Secret Garden Meeting - October

The Secret Garden is a place that is only open for bereaved parents. It is our garden, our secret place to come to. A place to remember our children with those who understand us. It is a place to just be, without worry or fear of not being accepted. May you feel safe to share your hearts here in the garden.

So this meeting we would like to talk about where you are. Where are you at in your grief. Has it been years or just weeks since you lost your baby. How are you feeling. How do you hope you will feel in the future. Have you found any peace at all?

This grief no doubt has many unexpected turns and twists. The longer I'm on this journey to hopefully healing, the more I realize the permanence of this loss. More than anger and frustration, I am being swallowed up in sadness. The guilt has been left behind for the most part, along with being angry at God or anybody else. It's just sadness right now. But I'm not even a crying mess, like I was a few weeks ago. The sadness creeps in while I'm teaching, driving, working, in conversation with someone, cleaning, sleeping, dreaming, anything really. It's always there in the back of my head, and it is the burden that weighs me down. I get to wondering if it will always be this way? 

I am in some twisted way learning to accept this fate. She's in Heaven, me still here, but even in acceptance the loss is wearisome. The sadness is derived mostly from how far time has taken me away from her life, and those moments I got to know her. Lately, it's not so much over the things I missed out on with her. Don't get me wrong, those things make me sad when I get reminded, but that's a bottomless pit of disaster every time I go there. Because there is no end to what I missed out on had I had the chance to raise her.



So this is me. Sad. Sad. Sad. Along with this sadness, there is a burning desire to cherish those moments I had with her. Even in the pregnancy, after hearing all the bad news, I still enjoyed her so much. I never let myself stay sad when I was carrying her, or watching her in the NICU. Maybe I am making up for it now? Who knows... I feel that there are never enough ways to honor her life. I strive to honor her life through mine, living in the moment, and loving life. 


I'm crazy excited about getting to start her memory garden in a few weeks. And by next summer I will be able to crack open my paints again! I want to be free again to remember my daughter and not be constrained by sadness. My loss was her gain, and I want to live like it.

So, have I found peace? Yes. I really have. The peace is ever present as I keep my eyes fixed on the One who can heal me completely one day.

In Jenna's Name

In honor of my sweet Jenna's life, I have started creating Hope Collages for babylost mamas. It seems there are never enough ways to memorialize their lives.

I can do this for children of all ages, up to 18 years old. If you have lost or know someone that has lost a child due to miscarriage, neonatal loss, illness, tragedy, or anything really, I would be honored to create one for them. I would like to be able to do this for as long as I can.

There are a lifetime of words that will never be spoken because we were asked to say goodbye too soon. This is a way to piece all those words together that so often remind us of our angels. I do this free of charge and the turnaround time is 5-7 days.

Please visit Abiding Hope Collages at: www.hopecollage.org if you are interested.

Here are some examples of the hope collages...

Picking up the Pieces and Healing Tears

I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but last night I felt so much better after I just let it all out. I waited until after I thought my husband was sleeping and I cried and cried and cried. I had a mountain of grief sitting on my chest and a million different emotions that can hardly be handled that were desperate for some relief. So I cried and it HELPED.

Nothing got solved, just released. Maybe that's what it was.

Aside from the million emotions, I didn't get a chance to blog away my heart. This added to the reality of facing my grief, which at times, is unbearable.

On a different note, I find it difficult to talk with people. Just simple conversation makes my brain crazy. It's not that I don't want to (or maybe I don't?) but it is so hard to FOCUS. I have never been more scatter-brained and that makes me crazier. I also find myself avoiding certain people because I don't want to talk about the frivolous things in life and they don't want to talk about my baby who died too soon. So I become a hermit who crawls out when I MUST be ok or when I finally reach a "safety zone".

On top of that, I haven't been able to go see her. Her marker is so pretty but its ugly too. It just urks me that she is in the ground. My brain knows she is in Heaven, but my heart can't get past her body being buried - the very one I felt kicking and moving inside, is buried. I can't write in words what that does to me. I hate it. I used to love going to see her and I wish I could see past the marker that so delicately marks her putrid grave. Why did I spend so much time trying to make it look so pretty??!! It is not going to matter! I thought it was the last thing I could do for her. Now it just keeps me away. I feel guilty, angry and disgusted that I can't make it better. It hurts so much to see her like that. I mean to go this Friday. She will have been gone four months. I want to go Friday, but it's going to be hard.

I thought about it like this.

In this house there is this beautiful, fragile yet perfect glass vase. And it sits in a place where it can display its beauty to everyone in the house, at all times. But one day it gets knocked over and it doesn't just break - it shatters throughout the entire house, in every corner and under every stool, table and furnishing. No matter where you walk in this house there are sharp remnants of this once-beautifully adorned glass vase. But the beauty is gone and all that's left is a mess and pain with every step you take. As I think about the glass pieces everywhere I go, I can't help but think I am just leaving the glass pieces on the ground to continue to wound my already wounded heart. How do you pick up the pieces? How do you tell yourself it's time to find a way to heal? When does the pain stop tearing you apart everywhere you go? When do the little things in life that bring you back to the darkest hour stop bringing you to tears? How does life return to a sense of normalcy after your innocence is gone? How do you pick that first piece off the ground and not feel guilty?

I don't know. But I do know that it has got to start soon. Some sort of stepping forward. Not "moving on" or "getting over it" as people say without the slightest idea of how those careless words rend your heart, but a true finding of what it means to live with this grief and without the guilt of leaving her behind.

It won't happen overnight and I know these next few months and even years will try my relationships. I hope that my friends and family can be patient. I pray that I can have grace. I know that I serve a good God. There are few things that I know for certain anymore but one is that He is right there, ready to help me pick up that first piece. And the second and the third.

...forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark...

Philippians 3:13,14

Peace in the Storm

Since I lost Jenna, I find myself re-evaluating everything in my life. Everything. Nothing is as it was. It's a bit overwhelming. When everything in this world keeps rotating and it feels like it should STOP, it just keeps going.


I feel out of place in the sunshine. Under a stormy sky, I feel right at home because that's how I feel inside. It sounds strange, but I just don't know if I will ever get to appreciate a beautiful sunny day for what it once was. I keep asking myself, How can it be so sunny and beautiful outside when my heart is so grief-stricken? When we live in a world where babies die and children get illnesses? How can the sun keep shining when there are countless broken mama's hearts all over the world? How can the skies be so blue as if nothing happened and my Jenna is not here like she should be? I keep asking these questions, as if the world revolves around me... News flash - it doesn't.


I get to thinking about what Jesus did on the cross and it melts my heart. I don't think I have ever appreciated it more than I do now. I write that to my shame, but her death just made my salvation and Heaven more real. He made it possible to see her again. He made a way. And that gives me hope, more than I can ever write about.


It's an amazing truth that I can survive this grief. I don't feel like it most days, but it is just mind-blowing that women have survived this lifeless and empty grief. That also gives me hope. I read about the mothers who have passed their first year or more without their little ones and that gives me a huge glimpse of hope. I can't see myself being in a better place right now, but it must be possible.


Lauren from "Walking by Faith" so perfectly worded it: "He’s showing me how to live life when it hurts to breathe some days."


It does hurt to breathe some days. It hurts to exist. I told someone the other day that I don't know how long I am going to be where I am in this grief, but this is just where I am. Desperately missing her. Devastated. Feeling deserted by God.


I know better than to feel those things, but I do. I know whom I have believed (II Tim. 1:12), and He is faithful but I can't help but feel that I have been let down by the One who could have saved her.


Lately where we live, it has been raining and stormy. It has perfectly captioned my heart's deepest sorrow. I stand here but I am really not alone. Even when my frail mind is doubting His cause, His love and His plan, He is right there, assuring me that it will be alright filling my heart with the the mystery of peace.

HIGHER!!!!

Returning to the backyard bliss of my childhood tonight was comforting. I was in the playground where I used to go as a teen and swing because I was bored. But today I was there, desperate for a sigh of relief from the relentless waves of grief. Relief from this thing I call the aftermath of my fate. Life without the one who was my purpose seems so shallow. I have daily reminders that pull me a million or so directions, urging me to continue in this unfortunate world.



For a split second, I was swinging.


                               Higher…


               Higher…


Higher…


I almost convinced myself that I could escape. Swinging has a whimsical likeness to it. The increasing speed and hustling wind against my face brought such an illusion of flight. I had a thought that if I could go high enough, I just might escape this harsh reality; this new normal as we like to say. I kept swinging because for a few moments my feet were off the ground that often required more of me than can be handled. The ground where we buried our firstborn. The ground where all my burdens would meet me when I stopped swinging.


And amid this useless wishing, the grace of God prevailed. I saw her in the sky. Flying to a faraway destination, no doubt a safe place. All alone, small and insignificant to this world, yet perfect. And in the blink of an eye she was gone. Just like that.


These feathered creatures remind me of her likeness. Her unfathomable beauty. The swift tenderness of their beings relates so perfectly to her fragile self. Now and then.


Words cannot begin to describe my agony tonight. I talk a lot about hope and I have it. But tonight my empty arms are crushing me.

I'm Going to Run with it

So I had an idea. I hope its a good one. I want it to be a way for us to remember our babies but also find a drink in this dry land of grief. Losing a baby has got to be one of the hardest things a person could ever be asked of God to do. While I read new stories every week of someone else who has endured this lonesome path, I get to wondering if there is any hope. The answer is YES. 

I am very touched how many people have supported my thinking "outloud" on this online journal at Handprints from Heaven. I have met so many of you through the most unfortunate circumstances. But I challenge each of us to look for hope. This new blog is dedicated to the mothers who have had their dreams dashed into a million pieces, and often times more than once. I pray that you find the hope that only Jesus Christ can give. I ask you to visit my new blog called Abiding Hope.

http://www.ourabidinghope.blogspot.com/

There, I can make a hope collage with your baby's name or just a phrase that you'd like done. It makes a lot more sense when you actually see what I am rambling on about. May the peace of God follow in the days ahead.

But I will hope continually, and will yet praise thee more and more.

-Psalms 71:14

Hope???

"And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three..." I Corinthians 13:13

Yes. In the midst of my broken, oh-so broken heart it is possible. Not because of anything I have done or even asked God for. My reason of the hope that I have is all because of my truest friend, Jesus Christ.

Everyday is a horrible reminder of the life that could have been. Having been almost four months into this nightmare of the life almost lived, it has exhausted my entire being. My will to fight and live and breath. But out of nowhere here it is.

Hope. Abiding Hope.

He pours it into my soul in buckets of sweet rain. I don't look for hope as I feel like hope is a way of leaving her behind. But when He just gives it to me, I can't resist. It feels so nice to have a glimpse of the life that survives this aftermath. He gives me hope when I least expect it, when I don't deserve it after all my questioning and anger and when I least understand it. He lifts me up just like He said He would. I don't know what my hope will bring, but I know that it is something that can be waited for.

When everything inside of me has failed, I have an abiding hope. One of my favorite definitions of the word abide is found in webster's dictionary.

abide: \ə-ˈbīd\ 1 to endure without yielding
 
Without Yielding! We have a blessed hope. We really really do. We can bring our shattered hearts and all the parts of our lives that don't make any sense to Him. When everyone around us seems to be forgetting our precious angels or when people shrivel up in conversation when you tell them yes, you had a child but they died, He has not forgotten or left any pieces of our lives behind. He is ok talking with us about our angels.

Tonight, even if it lasts for only a moment, I am going to dare to hope. I will not pretend I am ok. I will have a broken heart the rest of my life. I will always wonder why. But since Jesus made a way for me to hope, tonight I will. For as long as I can. There is no harm in hoping.
 
Lately I have had a bunch of rough days which has probably been reflected in my posts. Since I have shared my rough days I wanted to share my hope. Abiding Hope.
 
Hope for a healed heart.
Hope to go Home one day.
Hope to have a healthy baby one day.
Hope to see our last enemy conquered, death.
Hope to see my Jenna again.

"But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings..." Malachi 4:2

Something to Live For: Hope

I have been missing my little baby girl so.... MUCH. I just want to hold her, see her, smell her again. (sigh) Lots of moments I hadn't thought about in a while came to my memory this past week. Painful memories. But we shared them with her and for that they are precious. The more I go into this the less I appreciate it and the less I understand why. There's a question for eternity. Why. But it just is the way it is. I miss her. I am glad I got to know her. I just feel cheated, so very cheated on motherhood. I know I serve a GOOD God. He has definitely been there for me. Even when I didn't feel it, and sometimes I don't, He is undoubtedly there. He sustains me, keeps me going and gives me something to live for everyday. I cling to the hope He has given. Sometimes I just have to take Him for His word when all else fails, because He said so.

"My heart is inditing a good matter: I speak of the things which I have made touching the king: my tongue is the pen of a ready writer."

-Psalm 45:1

A More Perfect Love

I see your tears

When noone else does

I know how you miss me

And the emptiness you feel

I wish sometimes I could tell you

How I really am ok

How Heaven is far sweeter than words can tell

How precious the Lord is and I'm at home

Where all is well

I know that doesn't soften the blow

I know that doesn't dry your eyes

But if I could tell you just one thing

It would be that in Heaven there's just a more perfect love

A love that dries tears

A love that stands still

A love that doesn't know time

A love that forgets the woes of this life

And while you miss me being in your arms

I miss you too

But time hasn't torn a hole in my heart yet,

It's not been but a few moments

that I have been gone

The place where we one day will meet

Is closer than it feels

And me, your precious Angel

Am closer than you think

The life that I lived reached our Father's will

Far sooner than you would have chosen

But from Heaven the big picture is clear

And there's no doubt behind it there is perfection

The love that fills your heart for me

Does not go unseen

The tears you cry because I'm not there

Will be dried in Heaven

The longing that haunts you with emptiness

Will one day be restored

But Mother, in my new home

There is just a more perfect love

-written August 16, 2009

Thank God for the Roses

Lately... I have been having some rough days. I literally felt like I was drowning in this sea of grief, with no relief. I have been angry about what happened and the frustration that tags along with the loss has been eating away my joy. Not to mention all the millions of other emotions that follow anger...

But today I tasted the goodness of God. I forgot just how good He really is. He was there with me today. I carried a newborn for the first time after my sweet Jenna Belle today. And I think He must have been carrying me. Some might think it too soon but it helped me. It wasn't my baby - that part hurt. I realized what I am missing out on. But just to hold a miracle from God and know that healthy babies really happen. And to smell the sweet baby smell and to rock the baby to sleep - it really really did something. It gave me hope and something to look forward to. Something to treasure and be thankful for. Someone told me God won't let you stay down. Every once in a while, He'll send you a rose. Thank God for the roses.

Thank you, Mrs. Carol for sitting with me.

"Thou, which hast shown me great and sore troubles, shalt quicken me again, and shalt bring me up again from the depths of the earth."

- Psalm 71:20

The Secret Garden Meeting July

http://thesecretgardenmeeting.blogspot.com/2009/07/july-meeting.html

The Secret Garden Meeting comes together the last Friday of every month to offer support, hope, healing, acceptance and most importantly a place to be free and safe for bereaved parents. The questions for July are below with some of my thoughts...

How do you see or imagine your baby/ies now that you do not have them with you?

At first it was extremely hard to imagine Jenna Belle anywhere. Everyone kept telling me that she was in Heaven. That was a nice thought but so hard to get a mental picture of. After about three weeks to a month, I could finally see her. This brought a new peace and comfort that she was in good hands. Today I see her on the street of gold, with her dark curly pigtails bouncing around as she rides her pony. I can see her in the presence of family and friends who have gone on before, like her grandpa. And the best part is she is healthy. And happy. I don't believe she will have grown a whole lot from the moment we said goodbye when we meet again since time in Heaven is not like it is on earth.

On my hard days, even this vision does not offer a whole lot of comfort since there is still separation. It's times like that that I know she is not as far away as I feel. She watches me, listens to me and loves me. Sometimes I get this thought that she is right next to me but I just can't see her. She knows that I miss her and she waits.

How did the loss of your last pregnancy affect your choices/decisions about the birth of your subsequent pregnancy?

Its hard to say right now. There are of course the natural fears of history repeating itself, which would be the end of me. All I can do is hope for God's mercy.

"The Lord taketh pleasure in them that fear him, in those that hope in his mercy."

-Psalm 147:11

Days Like These

"For I am become like a bottle in the smoke; yet do I not forget thy statutes."

-Psalms 119:83

Anywhere I go, I feel like there is a lonely dark shadow around me, something like this bottle in the smoke. I guess that's normal after such a loss. After life has shifted the ground back to normal for everyone else, I feel that her memory is slipping away from this world. That is when it just seems endless; the pain, the loss and the absence of hope. As I read on through Psalm 119, I read that David, in spite of his hopeless feelings, he found comfort in God.

"How sweet are thy words unto my taste! yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth!"

-Psalms 119:103