change

I have been wanting to re-do this space for my Jenna for awhile. I just couldn't figure out what I wanted it to look like. When I told my husband I was redo-ing Jenna's blog he said "Again??" Ummm... yea...?  I guess to him a blog is a blog... but to me - Jenna's spot has to be perfect, and I was beginning to get really tired of the gray background. So this time around I thought of doing a scrapbook look... and God was so good. He let me stumble on *the* most perfect scrapbook kit... called May Morning (umm perfect name since that is HER month) and it has a little bird... perfection again... AND the bird was a-hem... FUCHSIA!

Perfection. Only God.

Thank you, God for letting me find Jenna's new perfect look! 

I have been feeling nothing short of guilt for my lack of blogging here lately since Bubby made his entrance into this world. This blog was started to journal my grief, and I intend to continue my journey on grief here, but the honest truth is my grief has changed... yet again. Grief in one word is unpredictable. I find myself totally 'okay' one minute and then I wake up one morning and realize I have a dead child. In the 21st century... how do you explain that to the world??? And then the cycle of why me... why this... why why why starts. But the grief and the pain are not raw these days. It is tolerable, bearable and very much a part of who I am now. I don't feel jarred in this world of grief anymore. It's life. Forever. There are moments where I still can't believe this happened. And those moments come so unexpectedly into my everyday strut but they usually pass as quickly as they come. 

I guess I can honestly say I have accepted my daughter's death. I am NOT okay that she died. I am NOT okay that I will always get to wonder about her and never really get to know her. And accepting is a tricky place to be. I find guilt here too. I have to keep telling myself that accepting this does NOT mean I don't miss her with every fiber of my being. Acceptance does NOT entail forgetting or leaving her behind. 

Acceptance is smiling because she lived instead of crying because she died. Acceptance is realizing I may not be ready to look at those pictures just yet, and that's okay. Acceptance is knowing that she lives on through me. Acceptance is being filled with gratitude that I experienced joy because of her instead of feeling sorry for myself. Acceptance is remembering that God was there those 13 days. Acceptance is believing God out of pure desperation. Acceptance is embracing my days here with open arms and an open heart, and knowing I wouldn't be who I am today if it weren't for Jenna. Acceptance is resting in that blessed hope that I will get to see her again.

20 Questions

I thought about you today
like I do everyday since you were born
do you know you've been on my heart?
Was that little bird today you?
When the sky is pink and purple is God letting you watercolor?
Do you feel the summer heat where you're at?
Do you know that it's been over a year since I've seen you?
Is heaven a fun place to be for you?
What is it like to be so young, and already in Heaven?
Do the angels read my blog to you?
Can you fly where you're at?
What sort of colors are in Heaven and do you have your own room?
Your own mansion?
Are you still wearing the gown we put on you? And the bow? Do you wear a bow?
Do you remember your days in the hospital? Part of me hopes you do and part of me hopes you don't.
What color are your eyes in Heaven? I dreamed they were blue... and I will always wonder.
Do you watch us as we live our life without you?
Do you know that while our lives have joy again that there's always you that's missing?
Do you know you took a piece of me with you when you died?
Do you know that it's only because it hurts so badly that I can't talk about you like I used to?
Maybe it's because I know what I'm missing now...
As you can see I'm the one with questions
You've taught me more than I could have ever taught you.
You've taught me what matters.

On My Heart

No one noticed how you were missing that day
but I could see the places where your footprints should have been
and the smiles you would have made.

And people don't see me as someone who had her world fall apart anymore
because these days it looks put back together
I've only mastered the art of looking okay
but not ever really being okay

And I guess that's all people really want to see
Is 'okayness' and that all looks  well.

But I'll never be okay
because my life is not put back together
and I know what life we're missing.

I thought about how much pain you endured
and how brave and strong you were
for such a little girl
I hope you know you're my hero

And when life's difficulties come by
and it feels like I can't go on
I think about the fight you made to stay with us, for us
And that is all the umph I need to make it one more step

Most days I'm convinced that you were not of this world
and really we need you more than you needed us
I hate to admit it.
And it seems as fate had her way you really are alright.
The brokenness was left behind in this imperfect world.


I don't know how much of this world you can see,
but I think about you everyday
and lately talking about you is harder than I'd like it to be
but you will live on through me, one way or another

My heart breaks a little more when I see little girls at your 'would-be' age
but somehow I cannot see you as a one year old child
You are still a tiny newborn to me
And I can't wait to hold you again, Jenna.

Someday soon, I hope.

my specs

You ever feel like God's trying to show you something and he uses little things here and there sending the same message? It's happened a lot lately and it been about my specs.

In a movie I was watching, the woman is bitter with God for taking her husband from her, so unexpectedly and so young. She asked a man why God would let such unthinkable things happen to good people. I thought... yup...

The man she was talking with answered her this... If my daughter trips and falls while I am walking right beside her it doesn't mean I allowed it to happen, but I will cry when she cries and rejoice when she is well. I LOVED that picture of God's love.

And a message I heard a few weeks ago was about having faith to be able to see the goodness of God. I haven't owned this type of faith in a VERY long time.

Some days I cannot deal with the fact that I have a dead daughter - it is too much. And some days I cannot stop thinking about it and it is on the forefront of every thought.

I told my husband the other day I just wanted to be accept this life. Accept her fate. Accept it all, and seriously be okay.

The message was preached out of this verse:

I had fainted, unless I had believed to see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. Psalm 27:13

That word "believed" struck a chord with me. For over a year I haven't wanted to believe that God was good. Every time I heard someone say "God is good" or "God will work it out" or "God has a plan" my mind would default to my sick, tiny NICU baby. Well what about Jenna?!? I felt justified in questioning his 'goodness' since after all, he had let me down.

I really don't know how to move past the disappointment, but a part of my heart lately wants to believe he is still good.

My specs have been tainted with grief, bitterness and heartache but only I can clean the lenses. Only I can make that choice to believe that God is still good.

I walked out to Jenna's garden a few days ago and spotted a butterfly prancing among the flowers. I watched it steadily wondering if it would still be there if I dashed for camera in time... I watched it for a few short moments and decided I wanted to at least try to commit this bit of God's goodness to film. It's really hard to see in the pictures, so I apologize ahead of time, but if I didn't know any better, I'd say it was a baby butterfly... (it's near the bottom center)

it's been a while...

It's not that I don't have anything to say, but everything to say has already been said at least a hundred times.


I miss her dearly. I glance at her brother and get flashes of her silhouette, her essence, her being. I wonder if I will always see a little bit of her in him? hmmm....


I hope so.

It's a scorcher right now in south Texas and believe it or not, I am LOVING the heat. No not because I love hot weather, I just remember the last time it was this hot...


A year ago. Even the most bitter things in life (like hot Texas summers) can be sweet when they remind me of my Jenna.


A year ago we lived in this itty bitty rent house. I LOVED that house. It was the place we went home to from the hospital after she died.


The yard was a deceit size and it just felt like home. My hubs had moved us out of our apartment while I was in bed rest, so the first time I actually got to live there was after Jenna died. I remember Pete and I would spend long afternoons, and late evenings out in the yard fixing it up. We'd never been in a house before; it was nice to have so many projects to fill our empty time.


But I am having a hard time describing just how sweet that summer was. It's like heaven's fragrance lingered from that day it had opened it's gates and taken my daughter home. There was something sweet about those long days spent outside in our two-bedroom house. I literally could have lived there forever. I remember we would play the "Jenna tunes" over and over (lots of Allison Krauss)... and it was just sweet. There's no other word for life as it was at that time.


And don't misunderstand me, those summer days were filled with sorrow and lots and lots of pain, but the anger hadn't come yet nor the disappointment. I'm really not sure how I jumped on the bandwagon of disappointment and anger. Sometimes I just wish I could get a whiff of Heaven's fragrance again. Last summer I just felt her everywhere. I knew that I knew that I knew she was just fine. And that used to be enough.


I look back and remember fearing that I would forget her if I didn't _________(fill in the blank)... but I now know how ridiculous and impossible it would be to forget her. A few weeks after she died I felt like I needed to start doing something in her name... but I ended up spending the entire summer at that two-bedroom house. I eventually went back to work, although it was never the same. Things would complicate themselves by summer's end, and in July I would find this world of babyloss mothers, hearts knitted in grief and love.


A year from that sweet summer where Heaven just felt a step away, a breath away. A footprint away from my daughter's home. I hope to continue remembering last summer as the heat blazes these next few months.


I miss my girl.




ps - I am now taking requests for Hope Collages again