Tag Archives: grief

for her. for them. for me.

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This summer I began running – or really, jogging (I’m still so slow.) It was very therapeutic for me this summer as it was one of the most difficult summers in my life. I have written a bit about it here on the blog before. I was so proud to make it out of this summer and into fall. And now, into 2013 feeling much better and ready to face a new year. Eisley’s passing date and birthday this year was one I didn’t share on my blog. I guess I didn’t really know how to best convey my heart because honestly, I didn’t even know what was happening within me. I was a complete wreck this year, 2 years later. I can’t explain it and I guess if you’ve ever lost anyone, you’d understand that – there really sometimes isn’t a way to explain your grief.

To top it off I had thrown up walls with every person in my life (Ted too). I had two friends (nearby) that really continued to pursue me despite my walls and pushing away – my “funk” - or whatever you’d call it. They are the ones I asked to join me in a 5k I did, not because I didn’t still love my other friends or anything! But because it was, at the time, what I felt was best for me.377847_10151065744211989_890910759_nA verse of truth that I still cling to, especially in troubled times where truth is hard to remember. (a piece of a letter I wrote to E in the hospital)
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This year, we had a simple picnic lunch on her birthday and did a balloon release. each year we write notes on pink balloons and release them. 267197_10151068118951989_1913800824_n  Chase was way more involved and understanding this year and that made our hearts both full and ache simultaneously. 380053_10151072238656989_1697785671_n

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our family photo on Eisley’s birthday September 17, 2012

EisleysbirthdayfamilyphotoCollage2011 // 2012
426795_10151068722831989_1162516962_nwe went out to a local ice cream shop, Scrumptious, for Eisley’s birthday after the balloon release.
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I knew I wanted to run a 5k around Eisley’s birthday and last minute, I found one. The {PERFECT} one. Colour Me Rad. How incredibly fitting. The final stretch was PINK powder too which just made my heart so very happy and thankful, like it was truly a run in honour of her.

This run was so much more to me than words can describe. The physical victory was amazing – 3.2 miles (mostly ran, I was sick with a cough and strep throat – which at the time I didn’t know that!) – but more than anything, the significance of this run meant more than anything. I felt like it was a declaration – one in honour of Eisley and also as a declaration that I WILL keep going. That I can. That despite everything I am FEELING, I can do this. I can live.

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for her.
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for them.
620886_10152252958760727_15126740_o for me.

a {different} beautiful dream.

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It’s a moment I will never forget, probably because it was one that would either scar a person for life, or move them to tears. It was the very first time I witnessed a birth, at the young age of 13. I was watching the kiddos of my mom’s friend while she labored away in their home. My mom was there and as the time of their daughter’s birth neared, they asked me if I would like to be in the room. I decided I did and I have never regretted that decision since. It was beautiful and I knew at the moment, that was what I hoped for some day. I always knew I wanted a family (being the eldest, I always did), but now I knew how I wanted to birth my children. In the peace of our home.

Years later, I was 24 weeks pregnant, I had a wonderful midwife and a beautiful birth story all planned out.  But they were telling me that I was Group B Strep positive and I was told that I wouldn’t be able to have the home birth I had always dreamt of (I later learned, you actually can be GBS + and still have a home birth, but thankfully He knew what we needed at the time). I was crushed. I mean, devesated. I balled and balled. Ted, who was never fully at peace with the idea of a home birth, finally felt peace and knew this was the best decision for us. Then, at almost 42 weeks they told me the likelihood of me having to have a c-section was great. Many factors that weren’t adding up. I felt like the biggest failure, frustrated with my body for being unable to have my baby naturally.

I won’t go into detail Chase’s birth story, if you’re really curious – just click here as I have written his birth story online once before. To sum it up, 42 hours of labor, 3.5 hours of pushing, making it all the way to 10cm only to have him get stuck and unable to fit and come out. I had him by c-section, totally exhausted and drugged up and unable to remember anything or hold him until a day later.

My perspective has greatly changed since we’ve lost Eisley. I have since realized, through our own life experience, that any birth story that is able to bring the baby to your arms, alive, is the really best birth story there is.

Words can’t express how incredibly thankful I am that I was able to have Eisley naturally (vaginally) 73 hours of labor later I met our sweet girl face to face. It wasn’t what I had dreamt when I thought of having a baby but I am so very thankful that I was able to hold my daughter, to see her precious face before we said goodbye, and because of that, I wouldn’t trade any of those 73 hours in for anything. (we just recently had the 2nd anniversaries or her death -september 14th and her birthday – september 17th. Blog post about those precious anniversaries, soon.)

I decided to schedule a c-section with Shailo. There was really no question in my mind. I knew I couldn’t go through another long labor that would potentially result in a c-section, again. And also, I felt a natural birth was too traumatic from going through what we had with Eisley just shy of 14 months before. So, in regards to a c-section, even though it was a dream lost – I was able to have two beautiful boys due to them. So very thankful we live in a day and age that it is possible.

I kind of digress, but I wanted to share a bit of my heart behind what I’m about what I am really blogging about. When I was pregnant with Chase, Eisley and Shailo I enjoyed looking through photographs of birth stories – home births, c-section births, hospital births… I was constantly moved to tears by them. In my pregnancy with Shailo I really felt that God gave me an incredible dream. I wanted to be a birth photographer. I wanted to capture “that moment” for another. You know, that one moment when the mother first meets their baby face to face. The moment when they birth their baby and he/she is placed on their chest. The incredible emotion, the overwhelming love… that moment. That specific moment was one that I was unable to have but I wanted to capture that for someone else.

And, the story beforehand and those precious moments afterwards. But especially the moment the momma (and daddy) first sees their little one.

The question, “How could you photograph…”that moment”… something you’ve never experienced yourself?” started to plague my mind. And while that makes total sense in a way, I had to battle that. I honestly think there will always be this yearning in my heart. Wondering what “that” moment would be like. And even without the experience of a home birth or a completely natural, un-medicated birth, I feel that yearning so strong that I am able to truly capture the moments I would believe to be beautiful – as if it were my birth story. What would I want captured?

Another thing that began to draw out insecurity from within me was knowing that I wasn’t a professional photographer, so how could I just jump right in. My wonderful hubby jumped on board with my dream and wanted to help me in any way possible. So he has been teaching me. :) I have a lot to learn but I can already see a change in the work that I do. And also, I don’t want to be a professional photographer, maybe not ever, right now I just know I want to understand the camera and how to best captures those moments for someone else.

So how do I begin?

I knew that I wanted to start with friends, but even with close friends… how do you ask something like that? “Hi, I’d like to photograph your birth story, what do ya think?” The first thought of many is most likely – “I don’t want …down there… photographed!” haha. Thankfully, I was spared that awkward conversation and just 3 weeks after I shared this dream with Ted (October 2011), a friend of mine called me. She asked if I would consider photographing the birth of their son, Seth. I literally got goosebumps and tears filled my eyes. I was honoured to shoot my first birth in April.

During the birth of my friend Brittany’s son, I was asked to shoot my second birth by another dear friend, Bethany. She was Brittany’s doula and a long time friend and inspiration of mine. The amazing thing is that when I had shared with Ted about my dream, I had told Ted that I wanted to ask Bethany when they got pregnant with their next baby. And not too long later, they shared they were pregnant with baby #7! On September 15th, just a few weeks ago, I shot my second birth – the beautiful birth of their 4th daughter; Lilyana Elaine.

I hope to share both birth stories here soon. Today I will be posting the birth story of Seth Tyrus Maxwell (with permission.)

I am hoping for more wonderful opportunities like the two I’ve had this year. So very thankful for this dream I believe He’s given me and can’t wait to see how He will use this and bless others with it! Possible overseas someday? We shall see!

I just wanted to share a little bit about the story behind this dream that I believe God’s birthed in me (pun intended ;)) Thanks for stopping by!

simultaneously.

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i have realized something in the past few months and as it slowly but surely resonates with my heart and mind, i am finding freedom.

i am beginning to come to understand my simultaneously grieving yet, thankful heart. that it is really okay that they both exist. and that (for me) there cannot be guilt in this. i can’t really say i fully understand or comprehend this idea, but in my heart it resonates. it happens each and every day.

today is actually a good example of this very thing;

august 8th holds a fun new milestone as well as a precious memoury that we hold dear to our hearts.

today, Shailo is 9 months old, which is unbelievable to me! (photo taken today at his 9 month checkup)

it is also the anniversary of when we found out that our Eisley was a girl at our Pink or Blue party.

i’m reminded in dates and anniversaries, like today. and i’m reminded in the little every day moments. recently, i stood watching a moment happen at the Zoo and instantaneously felt full of both thankfulness and sorrow. thankful for what my eyes beheld before me in that second; my precious boys. sorrow in knowing their sister would never be apart of even the smallest moments like these.

both of these feelings, sometimes existing at the same time or sometimes one right after the other, it’s something that has burdened me and overwhelmed me with guilt until recently. but they no longer need to and it is this very idea that i have to let go. i have to quit trying to wrap my mind around it and just go with these feelings.

they are happening.

they are very real.

they are often and in my everyday.

i imagine that each and every one of us has come to know that life is oh so beautiful and oh so painful.

it is both bitter and sweet.

and while we will never truly understand how the two can really coincide, how they can often go hand in hand, i know that His grace, His mercy, His peace… they carry us through these moments.

i’m super sleepy and i really hope  that despite my inability to think straight, i was able to share what i really wanted to tonight. i guess i just wanted to share (publicly) with the hope that maybe in this blog post, in my sharing this vulnerable bit of my mind, maybe it could help someone.

i don’t have answers for why things happen. why often there is the bitter with the sweet. but i know that He carries us.

maybe we ought to let go of trying to comprehend all of this and feel what we need to feel.

maybe in this, we will find healing.

maybe if we let go, we will find a greater understanding of what it means to really live life – because we come to feel these very things.

yeah, that makes sense in my head, hope what i am trying to get out resonates in someone reading this now.

xoxo, jami

on the mend. whatever that looks like, that is.

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i struggle with what i believe most momma’s struggle with and that is, doing things for ourselves. myself. me. i remember before i had Chase i wanted to be sure that i really focused on yes, being a momma, but also still being who i am too. what makes me, me. doing the things i love all while being his mother.

over the years – and through everything we’ve walked through in his “short” (almost) 3 years – i’ve really began to push that aside. it has {really} hit me recently though. it’s taking it’s toll on me. it’s another reason i decided to keep blogging. i’m a verbal processor, just in case you haven’t figured that out yet ;) and i need the time to process. like really process everything. and i do mean EVERY thing. i’m just wired that way. i often wish i wasn’t.

we recently moved  back to a city where we lived just 2 years ago. {So much} has happened and changed within our family and within us since we’ve moved. i kind of expected a lot out of this move and instead i found that my high expectations were crumbling as i watched the reality kind of set in. and oh so quickly. we are so different than we were when we lived down here. our lives were too. we’re in a completely and totally different place in almost every way than before. i didn’t expect to feel what i feel now.

when we left (YWAM) we still felt young, carefree and adventurous. we left feeling hopeful for a new season and where we felt God was leading us. it was a hard and difficult step to take leaving the (structured) ministry of YWAM and jumping into the (not so structured) ministry of being out here and pursuing our dreams, away from what we had known since graduating High School. we stepped out, rather naive to what we’d be facing. the reality hit us full force. ( i feel like it {still is}). we found out soon after leaving YWAM that we were pregnant with Eisley…

it’s hard to say that “everything went downhill from there” because even though that is true, we wouldn’t trade one minute of {any} of it. we had our beautiful baby girl and for that we could never be more thankful and never regret a moment. yet the reality is, everything did go “downhill” from there. after we lost her, i’ll never forget, around a month after losing her – we were living with my grandparents, broke as could be. we sifted through our things in storage and sold the items that we were using that could bring us in a little money to help with groceries and to pay for diapers. all while grieving and feeling confused (and at the time, still an incredible amount of shock). i remember sitting outside in the sunshine of autumn (thanks, Colorado for being so sunny year-round) and pulling Chase into my arms and just crying my heart out. it felt like it couldn’t possibly get any worse, but to be honest, it hasn’t felt much better (besides the awesome addition to our family! he blesses our hearts so very much!)

i really thought, 2 years from the time we left YWAM, that we’d be in a different place (in so many ways) than where we are now. like i said, we don’t regret anything, but it’s freaking hard out here. and then add to the mix… just everything… we sometimes joke (but are kind of looking at each other like, are you serious, yeah..confused haha) that we need to go back on staff so we can live off with support again. it’s not a bad thing, (please, please, please don’t assume that’s what i’m saying here) we just remember what life was like before and sometimes miss it.

i turned 25 in march. (i have completely avoided my 25 by 25 list, because it’s really too painful, more reminders) i hit my first official identity crisis. no, i am not exaggeratting. i thought many a times wondering, “who am i anymore?!” should i be admitting this to the “world”, maybe not, but i guess my way of thinking is that if you stop in to read my blog, you might care just a tiny bit about us/me.

i was sharing with a dear friend of mine – who has walked beside me literally every step of the way since 2005- about all of this (much more drama and tears while sharing face-to-face ;)). she encouraged me and had a thought and perspective that hadn’t had. during our time away, even though just 2 years, it seems like so much longer and now as we come back, it makes sense why there is this struggle within us. we have changed so much (which i know) while some of the surroundings and even people, have stayed the same. but also, more than that, during our time away, it was a constant fight for our daughter’s life, and our life and survival. now we are here and God has seriously provided us with a beautiful (temporary) home (sunshine galore here, thank you, Jesus!) Ted has a new job that is more uplifting (for the most part and obviously not his dream job) and now we are busy with things in life that are productive for us and our dreams, rather than just busy with survival mode.

and now that we are here, in this place where burdens that once were, seem a little lighter. it hits us. the reality of what we’ve gone through. the shock far gone, and the survival mode no longer on full speed. it hits us. and it’s hard and dark and icky and sucky and frankly, the overwhelming thoughts are hell. hell. hell. how do you even process certain things? … how?!

i know that, really, there is just so much to process and so little time to sit down and actually do that. it’s a matter of being intentional and setting aside time to do so. also, just learning to do this as we keep up with the busyness of life. we’ve realized lately the importance of taking care of ourselves, saying no to this or that so we can actually maybe even process some things. and sometimes maybe it’s just the opposite that we need, saying yes to this or that to get ourselves out of this funk. we’re trying to take this all step-by-step, little by little. in hopes to find a way and time for our hearts to begin mending.

here i am – yet again – admitting i’m (we’re) struggling, broken and confused but this time seeking peace for our family. peace for our broken hearts. peace all the way around. peace amidst this chaotic life.

thanks for listening. :)

I will lift up my eyes to the hills—
From whence comes my help?
My help comes from the Lord,
Who made heaven and earth.

{Psalms 121}

an all-over-the-place post about nights and Chaseyboy

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(this post has been in the works for a month now so even as i re-read some of this i can see how much God has really been working in my heart and mind – so very thankful that my eyes have been opened or whatever you want to call it…read on if you dare ;)… no but seriously, do because i want to hear from those who may have walked this road before us)

Chase is almost 3-years-old. 33 months to be exact. and there is something i have rarely (if ever, really) shared. definitely not on the blog – maybe you caught a glimpse of it in my post about the “ba-bas”  and even when sharing with close friends and family, i haven’t shared what nights with Chase are really like.

i don’t think i ever made the conscious decision to not be honest, i mean people who are around enough, know that Chase has “rough nights”. but within the last month as i’ve gained more perspective i’ve started to share honestly about what it’s really like. mostly to process it and try to understand it.

the perspective that i’m talking about – about our (my- not Ted’s but not his fault as he is seriously the deepest sleeper i know) nights with Chase –  is that what we are going through is {not} normal. it’s like my eyes have been opened to what’s really going on and maybe, if i’m being totally honest, i’m facing the reality of something i haven’t wanted to for far too long.  the reality. the truth.

sometimes, it’s feels easier to go through the motion of things than to really deal with the root cause, the deeper issues. or maybe it’s just that i don’t even know where to begin, or i’m afraid of what i’ll really learn if i allow myself to face everything honestly.

yeah, obviously i’m still sorting through all of my thoughts. i’m overwhelmed by them. and, i’m afraid to share. but i {need} to share. i {need} to hear from others who are/have walked this road before. because i am baffled. because it’s recently started to take it’s toll on me.

there isn’t really a “gist” i’m getting at. it’s actually bunch of things jumbled into one big mess. and we go through this every.single.night.

i am slightly afraid that people might say, “well you’ve brought this on yourself”. and maybe that’s partly true. i love co-sleeping. i read this or that for and against it before i had Chase and decided i’d just do what i felt was right for us in the moment. after we had him, i pulled him into bed around 2 months and until a month before Shailo was born, he was still in our bed.

now he is in his own toddler bed, beside our bed (really don’t want to get into the full answer of why he’s next to our bed…basically,  it’s a fear-based thing within me that i’m working through. and also, because of our nights with him.) so, yes, he’s in his own bed. and Shailo sleeps in his little bed beside ours and I pull him into bed around 5am every morning (i would co-sleep with him, like i did Chase but after losing Eisley, it’s again, another one of my fear-based things. freaks me out now.)

the truth about our nights is that they are sleepless, long and exhausting. i am going to share honestly with the hope that {someone} can say they’ve walked through this too and can help me. here goes.

Chase doesn’t sleep for more than an hour and a half at a time. he wakes me up either every hour or hour and a half. (edit (because this has been a draft for a few weeks now): Chase slept one night for a period of 4/5 hours and i slept so deeply that when i woke i felt i had overslept and could barely get out of bed. cra-zy awesome and also, more perspective that this isn’t normal.)

he wakes me and asks me to do things like to straighten his pillow case. to fix his blanket because it’s no longer the way he likes it to lay. he wakes me if his jammies are on weird, or the ankles slid up to high but he can’t {not} wear jammies because if he doesn’t, he itches his skin until he bleeds (eczema) so in a way, some things seem kind of hopeless although i know they probably aren’t.

he’s totally inconsolable if he asks for milk and doesn’t get it. part of that is because he’s half awake and mostly because it’s a {major} comfort thing. i tried water for a time and that worked a whopping two times. he was doing much better in this area but again it’s gotten worse. we go through a gallon a day – maybe a day and a half if we’re lucky.

(-kind of TMI- side note: because he drink so.much.milk i have totally put off potty training all together. in my brain, the way this has to work it to get him to stop drinking so much fluids daily first. then begin the training. he pees SO much as you can imagine a child his age would, going through a gallon of milk all by himself in one day. he also poops like a baby still. mushy poos, rarely solid. (how’s that for TMI) so our nights our putting a damper on even things like potty training and saving money in diapers and milk…)

i was lying awake one night, around 3 am and trying to wrap my mind around our nights and i felt so clearly God reminded me of the first night i had to leave Chase to be hospitalized for Eisley. i suddenly realized that this could be a huge factor in why he freaks out at night. why he is unconsolable and needs the comfort of milk.

he was (is) traumatized too.

my heart aches every day lately as i’ve really let that sink in. i’ve known for a {long} time now this is an area i need to face. since we lost Eisley, i’ve struggled with anger towards Chase for things that aren’t his fault. things that are totally out of his control and to be honest, my hearts knows a major part of why he struggles with sleep is because he’s traumatized. by what happened while i was on bed rest and suddenly unable to to the “normal” things with him anymore. traumatized because his mother – whom always slept with her arm wrapped tightly around him – suddenly left him (when i hospitalized for Eisley – which once i had her, was 1 month. 1 month away from Chase)

traumatized because the woman who was now back wasn’t the momma he knew -watching me come back home – a changed, confused, grief-consumed and broken momma, not the momma he’d known his whole life (he was just 14 months at the time). i sometimes feel like she’s gone. the carefree-light hearted-cheery-rarely angry-momma.

i felt so consumed by the loss of Eisley that i stopped taking care of him in the loving, natural way i had before. i felt angry at him at times because i wanted to just be left alone in my grief, and friends, i feel like i’ve traumatized my son. i know i have.

i love him so very deeply and my heart has been changed by the love i have for him. from the very first time i learned he was growing inside my womb. from the very first time i heard his heartbeat, felt his movements within and saw his little profile during an ultrasound. and from the moment i held him in my arms, it’s like i now stand watching my heart run around in him. in my memory of eisley. in shailo.

it’s this deep, unbelievable and inexplicable love.

and my eyes have been opened again to this beautiful boy before me, my firstborn love, my Chaseyboy. my first baby to claim a piece of my heart. i love him so much and i know i’ve hurt him so deeply in my actions. in my season(s) of coldness and depression.

i’ve prayed my heart out during our nights but have i really meant it beyond my own selfish desire for sleep of my own? until recently, i don’t think so. i’ve been so selfish and so consumed.

it’s eating away at me. lately i watch him run around and i’m in awe at him and who he is, again. i’m starting to see him the way i once did before, and not just through the eyes of a grieving, confused and broken momma. i still feel broken and confuse and somedays, consumed, but mostly i feel like God is showing me what is before me in the here and now, and how i can live my life with my two beautiful boys and husband and still carry on Eisley’s legacy. it’s okay to feel these waves of grief and sorrow all while intertwined with living a full and happy life here. what’s before me now.

 i am so blessed to call Chase Journey, son. my firstborn. whom from the very beginning his life has truly been quite a journey. so much has happened in his (almost) 3 years of life, it’s unbelievable.

 one night, i was lying in bed with him, reading books before bedtime and i decided to video him reading this book to send to his Grandma Anisa in Alaska. it was a book about construction vehicles and it was so cute. when i pushed play and watched it back, i felt kind of stunned. thanks to having a phone with video capability now, i can watch him now from a perspective that most would see him, not sure if that makes sense. you know, like as a mother or auntie or whatever, you are around the kiddo enough to understand them and how they say things, so while we understand them, others are like, what did they just say? i had that moment. and brain suddenly registered the reality as i listened to his young voice; Chase is still oh so little. my heart stung a bit at that reality. i treat him and expect more out of him as if he were so much older.

i actually goes through these “roller coaster” emotions when it comes to Chase and how i feel i have/haven’t treated him. they go hand in hand with the season i’m in, so in my seasons of feeling more hopeful i feel guilty in how i’ve treated him during my seasons of depression, fear and anxiety. it’s a really hard and draining battle within me but i want to face this.

i want to be clear that i have never ever hated Chase or anything like that. i have always loved him and i always will. i’ve struggled with knowing how to grieve the loss of one child and still really, truly care for my other children the way i can best.

i guess i just wanted to share and see if there may be anyone who has walked this path before and has wisdom for me. whether it be about the nights or about grieving the loss of another child while caring for your children here with you and if you get me and what i’m failing miserably at trying to share here.

please pray for us as we keep processing all of this. please pray that we can find a way to get through these nights and most importantly how to really understand and work through any trauma that Chase is going through.

thanks for reading. i often hit post and know that those who really stick through to the end here (hi, you :)) must really, seriously like me or something for sticking around long enough to go through the ups and downs of my emo processing here. thank you.

love,

jami

Celebration of her life.

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September 17th the one year anniversary since Eisley’s birth.

We decided to get away as a family and it was truly what we needed. We spent 4 nights in Denver, some days around our friends and others just as a family. It was a time of remembering her, grieving our loss of her here and celebrating her life.

I really struggled as the anniversary of her passing and her birth came, for many reasons but mostly because it was the first year and I was wondering how on earth could I possibly do anything to commemorate her life in such a special way. I had many ideas on my “list” and was terrified that I wouldn’t honour her in the best way possible. As the time came, I let go of what I had planned and went with what we were feeling. Everything just fell into place naturally and traditions that we will do each year just came about. I feel we did the best in honouring her and no matter how much or how little we could have done, she’ll always hold a place in our family and in our hearts. There are a few things we really wanted to do this year and some things every year and I won’t share everything we did but here are some photos from out weekend.

We decided to do a family photo and a balloon release each year on the week of her birthday.

Another thing we would love to do each year is to make cupcakes with the kids and celebrate her life as one in our family. We want our boys and future kiddos to know their sister and who she was and is to our family.

Left: Chase’s god momma                                         Right: Eisley’s god momma

Melts my heart. <3

Pink Gerber Daisies remind us of her. Chase is blowing the flower to “make a wish” like he does with dandelions.

It was a bittersweet yet {healing} weekend for our us.

Eisley-girl, you are forever in our hearts and apart of our family.

“anniversary reactions” & “shadow grief”

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Last night I spent most of my time reading and taking in (most) every word of a chapter in ‘Empty Cradle, Broken Heart’. The section was called ‘Anniversary Reactions’. How perfectly fitting as we have now entered this week of anniversaries.

As I read, it helped bring clarity and peace to my mind with some of the things I’ve been struggling wondering. The book talked about having anniversary reactions and I really wanted to share a bit of what I’ve read.

You may find that you have particularly bad days at certain times of the year. These “anniversary reactions” are normal responses to the grief of anniversaries relevant to your baby’s life and death…anniversary dates are special and painful …

Anniversary reactions can be discouraging, especially as time goes on and you feel as though you’re putting your life back together. You may be surprised by the appearance of these emotions… some call this “shadow grief” – the dull background ache that stays with you; anniversaries simply bring that ache to the foreground.

When I read that about “shadow grief” it really resonated. One of the struggles, and I’m not sure how to even word this, is that I am aching everyday and yet there are specific dates that bring this ache our in me more than ever. I wondered if maybe something was wrong with me that on specific dates, it’s harder than others. A part of me know that it makes sense, totally. But then another part of me struggled with this as well. Was something wrong with me and my struggling?

As the dates of Eisley’s passing and her birthday come, pretty swiftly, upon us I found myself struggling more and more as this week drew nearer. I knew that the dates themselves would be really difficult and also bring up a lot of painful and precious memouries.

I think my biggest fear and struggle is wanting this week to be meaningful, to honour her memory and to help us in healing. I am worried and fearful that I will miss something or be unable to do something that I need to, for her and for us as a family.

All along I’ve wanted to still celebrate her birthday. I know that it could possibly sound weird, how could I celebrate her birthday when she wasn’t here with us? But something inside of me just really wants to, at least for this year and possibly in the years to come. I struggled at first, thinking that I was weird or messed up or maybe I was in denial still. But as I think about it more and more, it’s what I want and need. I want to celebrate her life and who she was and is to me and us as a family. I want to recognize her as a part of our family, even though she’s no longer with us. She’s a part of us forever.

And then last night, something so simple yet profound (for me) hit me; every day we are thankful for Chase and the dynamic he brings to this family and once a year we celebrate his life, his birthday. Even though every day, we’re thankful and recognize his life, we still do that once a year. It’s special and memorable and for him.

It’s different with our Eisley-girl because she’s not here and also in that, every day we ache and miss her whether it be like what they talk about with “shadow grief” or it be more intense. And it makes sense that, just as once a year we celebrate Chase’s birthday, that once a year the date of her passing will be more intense and difficult and also that I have a longing to celebrate her birthday as well. To me that date of her passing is very difficult, with a lot of painful memouries, shattering dreams, etc. The date of her birth I remember as peaceful. It is the day that I got to hold my baby girl in my arms, see her beauty and her features that resembled her daddy and me. To me, September 17th, though painful it was beautiful as well.

I want to celebrate her and I know this year, I need to.

I guess I just wanted to share a bit of where I’m at and also hope that this could maybe encourage and help a momma who has lost a baby as their anniversary dates come and with each year.

Side note: Reading ‘Emtpy Cradle, Broken Heart’ is helping me immensely and maybe it could help you too. I’ve read a few books that have helped my grieving and this is the only one that is written by someone with a Ph.D. I wasn’t sure I’d like it but I love it. They interview several momma who’ve lost a baby as different times or stages in pregnancy or after birth. Each momma has a different perspective and way that they are grieving. It has helped me immensely to not feel so alone or abnormal in what I’ve felt since we lost Eisley. If you haven’t heard of this book or read it, I seriously recommend it. It doesn’t reach you as a spiritual level, really at all, but it does help in other areas. 

music; held.

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music.

The words, the movement, the beauty expressed, the harmonies, the emotion is can draw out of one.

I close my eyes, take it in and find myself healing.

I’ve seen God meet people where they’re at time and time again and I’ve found He meets me in music, speaks to me through music, heals my heart through music.

He meets my heart through many different types of music, both “christian” and “secular”. Since we’ve lost Eisley, I’ve gained an entire “soundtrack” or two of music that speaks to my heart. Some music people have shared with me. Some of the songs I’ve stumbled across.

Music that meets me in the deepest, darkest, most painful places. The unexplored regions of my aching heart that need healing.

I decided to start sharing some of these songs and what they mean to me.

I’ll begin with Held by Natalie Grant and the meaning below.

Two months is too little
They let him go
They had no sudden healing
To think that providence
Would take a child from his mother
While she prays, is appalling

Who told us we’d be rescued
What has changed and
Why should we be saved from nightmares
We’re asking why this happens to us
Who have died to live, it’s unfair

This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We’d be held

This hand is bitterness
We want to taste it and
Let the hatred numb our sorrows

The wise hand opens slowly
To lilies of the valley and tomorrow

This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We’d be held

If hope if born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait, for one hour
Watching for our Savior

This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We’d be held

I don’t really even know if I need to share what this song means to me. I remember hearing it before we ever walked through losing our Eisley-girl and if I’m being honest, I brushed it off. I didn’t understand it.

A few people shared it with me after we lost her. I brushed it off again because I remember thinking it was cheesy and I didn’t want cheesy, I wanted something that met my heart. One day I finally decided to look up the lyrics (I’m always look up the lyrics of a “new” song while it’s playing to see if I really like what it’s saying or if there is something I have missed)

Whoa, this song brought me to tears.

it resontated.

it spoke what my heart and mind were having a hard time understanding. i knew people who had said if we’d prayed more or had more faith and i found myself doubting myself and how much faith i had.

i battled feeling that feeling although deep down i knew there was nothing more i could have done. nothing more. i had faith she would survive. God knew my heart’s cry but sometimes a miracle just doesn’t happen. sometimes, yes even with faith, we have no sudden healing.

“who told us we’d be rescued? why should we be saved from tragedy?”

the other part of the song that met me was when it speaks of being held, throughout everything.

and oh, are we held.

 i know that without a doubt in my mind and in my heart. we are held.

tightly held, between His shoulders.

amidst the darkest, most treacherous valleys, we are held.

in our grieving and aching, we are held.

in our questions and struggles, we are held.

i’m held. i feel this now.

and when i struggle in feeling this, i still know this to be the truth.

we. are. held.

September 14th, we were held, even though we couldn’t feel it at the time, we were held. i know that without a doubt.

September 17th, as Eisley was placed in our arms… as we held her, i felt him holding us.

as we said our earthly goodbyes and parted from our daughters body until eternity, we were held.

we were, we are and we will be held. 

and you…

YOU are held. whether mountain top or the darkest valley; You are held.

Pregnancy After Loss {Part 4}: Was I hoping for a boy or a girl? (Word heavy blog post)

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(You can read part 1 here, part 2 here, and part 3 here.)

This “Part 4″ is where I feel the most fear and hesitation about sharing honestly but I also feel a desire to share my heart regarding this. It’s a question that comes up a lot and also I think an unspoken one among many and I really do want to share.

 Was I hoping for a boy or a girl?

Mustache or bows? :)

I really want to pause here before I write about my response. I want to say that if you’ve walked through the loss of a child and are reading this, PLEASE know that this post isn’t to say that how I felt is the only way to feel or that you were wrong in your feelings. Another reason I feel so hesitant to share also because I don’t want another momma who has lost a child to feel an ounce of guilt over what they/you may have/will feel. Even though we may walk the same path of losing a child, we all grieve and ache differently and have different desires and longings when it comes to pregnancy after loss. Okay, whew, how’s that for a disclaimer :)

From early on in this pregnancy I journaled my heart away and I will share a snit bit of my response to these very questions. Let’s rewind to the beginning of this pregnancy.

If you’ve ever been pregnant or have known a loved one who has been pregnant, you know that the moment the two little pink lines show up, they never shut up :) You/they are flooded with all kinds of emotion and the excitement pours out at any given moment when a new thought arrises; thoughts about a future with a baby, will it be a boy or girl, wondering what day they will be born, early or late, big or small, hair or bald, daddy’s nose or mommy’s, etc, etc, etc…

Newly pregnant with baby #3, I wasn’t able to enjoy these questions that arose within me as I did with my first two babies. Instead I was faced with a loads of fear and anxiety as I finally began to think of the future. Thinking of labor was out of the question due to fear and memouries from a stillbirth. Thinking of a life with another little one on the way, I just couldn’t. I had a hard time finding hope to believe this little one would make it into my arms healthy and alive, breathing.

When it came to the thought of gender of this little one… whew. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have hopes for one gender or the other in each of my pregnancies. In my pregnancy with Chase, I had thought it was a girl all while deep inside I had hoped it was a boy because I loved the idea of having my kids have an older brother as I never did. With Eisley, I just had a feeling from the beginning that she was our Eisley-girl. I wanted her to be and she was.

This time around I found myself in an entirely different place than with the first two pregnancies. I cried out to God in regards to this little one’s gender. (And here is where my fear sets in before I share my heart…) Here is a quote from my journal that I feel says what my heart felt the best (I edited out some more personal things, but this is the main portion I feel to share);

“…you know my heart, you know how I’m wired, you know me better than even I know myself…I know that you know what I need, even if it’s not what I would have thought….but my heart doesn’t feel ready for another girl. Not so soon after losing my Eisley-girl…. I feel like I would be replacing her, I know I wouldn’t ever do that intentionally but I know myself and I know I would struggle believing that lie. Everything that I had dreamt and hoped for my Eisley, I would struggle as maybe those same thoughts arose if this is another little girl. And they will, I mean, even just how different it is to dress a boy and a girl, they would arise…. Please hear my heart. I know that either way You will be with me, guiding me in healing, whether this little one is a boy or a girl. But please, hear my cry … my heart just doesn’t feel ready…”

Even though that sums up what I had felt, I want to share a little more extensively. From the beginning I had hoped with everything in my that this little one was a boy. As you read, I was terrified of what my heart and mind would do if we were pregnant with another girl so soon after losing Eisley. I will be having this baby just 14 months after we lost her. It felt too close for my heart. I know that Eisley and this baby are two totally different children, two different personalities, etc. I just knew that my heart and mind would struggle in feeling like I was replacing her. I know myself well enough to know that it would be a daily battle at least for a while.

I struggled immensely in deciding when to share our pregnancy with the “whole world”. Hence waiting 5 months, and even that was hard!

For one, I found myself struggling to believe in myself for this pregnancy, that I could carry to term and grow/nourish a baby. A part of my fear of sharing was fear of hearing people ask me if it was too soon after Eisley or if I’d be able to carry this baby full term, etc. I needed people to {believe} in me and in that we could do this. I was afraid of even the few responses, like that, that might come. (I’m thankful that I only ever had one response where I felt they weren’t happy for us but more fearful!)

I also wasn’t in an emotionally stable place (not that I am now ;)) to share. We decided to share with close friends and family right away, which was terrifying, but we immediately found ourselves surrounded with their joy, excitement and belief that this would be a healthy pregnancy. As we began to share, questions were brought to me that I didn’t know how to process. I realized that if we were to share with the “whole world” that many more questions would arise and I really wouldn’t be able to share where I was at. I didn’t know. I was in shock. Fear and anxiety had a strong grip on me and what I was able to feel during that time. I needed the time to “process” the best that I could. I found taking it one day at a time, even still, is the best medicine for me. God guided my heart in showing me that important “one day at a time” lesson when I was pregnant with Eisley. Not that I am a faithful do-er, but I try to remember that and it helps immensely.

Another huge reason for not sharing early on was due to fear of having my heart wounded. After we lost Eisley, I was incredibly stunned to find myself wounded by people I’d never imagined myself hurt by. I had an incredibly hard time being able to sort through what people intentions were when they shared something publicly or to me personally. It was (and occasionally is) a constant daily struggle.  I found distance creep into even some of my closest friendships. I lost friendships due to feeling abandoned and ultimately wounded in the time of our darkest season, but for the most part, I allowed distance between friendships and people because of my assumptions. God has brought a lot of healing to my heart and now I rarely struggle with bitterness anymore. But it’s taken time and I still feel the ache of the loss of those friends when I really think about it. All this to say, I wasn’t sure how much more hurt I could handle at that point, where I first found out we were pregnant. I was in an incredibly vulnerable state that I feared more pain. I feel much stronger now and am able to (for the most part) sort through what’s said, or not said, and let. it. go. 

Perhaps, though, my biggest reason for not sharing my pregnancy with everyone for months… I didn’t want to have people think or even say things that implied that I would be replacing Eisley with another baby. Especially if this baby would have been a girl. As I began to share our pregnancy with family and close friends, I found myself in tears after sharing more than standing in joy and belief. I didn’t want to hear how “redeeming” this pregnancy could/would be. I didn’t want to hear that people had hoped I was having a little girl, because it conflicted with what I had hoped and my reasonings, and so I would believe that ultimately people were saying to me “I hope you have a little girl! Wouldn’t that be so redeeming?!” Even when that was {not at all} what people were really saying. I struggle believing that if we shared with everyone, perhaps most would hope we’d have a little girl. In my heart, I ached at the thought that others might really think having another little girl would be redeeming when in fact I knew for myself, even though that might look to be like redemption, it would not be at all. It would never bring my Eisley back and in that way, it could never be redeeming. (I hope I’m making sense)

All of the above are the “reasons” for why, for the most part, I kept my mouth sealed tight, until we shared at our Mustache or Bows Party. As I shared all of these above struggles with one of my dearest friends, she suggested that maybe I wait to announce to everyone (like on social media) until after we’ve had the party and can share with the “whole world” that I was pregnant and it was a boy. That way it left very little room for my heart to feel wounded by responses of people hoping it was a girl for redemptive purposes. Even when that wasn’t what people meant or their intention, it was/would be hard to hear.

So a quick summary of what I felt when I first learned that baby #3 was a boy… well, first things first, I noticed before anyone told me! I have seen quite a few ultrasounds and I just noticed that it was a boy. I asked the ultrasound technician  if what I was seeing was little boy parts and she looked at me quite surprised and said, “Yes! I’m almost positive that what we’re seeing it outdoor plumbing.” :)

At 13 weeks pregnant I found out that I was having a little boy. My heart and mind felt relief. He had heard my cry and knew that this was what was best for my heart right now. I was also so thankful I found out so early in this pregnancy. That same week, I chose the perfect name for our boy and I can’t wait to share the name and the incredible meaning for him and for our family, in less than 10 weeks now!!! Boy S will have to do for now :)

Do I want a girl in the future? Yes I do. And I feel so strongly that we will have another little girl in our family but that time is not right now. I feel in my heart that when we do know that we are pregnant with another little girl, I will be as “ready” as one can be. I imagine that some of these same fears, struggles and lies will arise, but I also know that time will help my heart to heal and become ready for another precious baby girl.

Part 5 I’ll share what it was like to share the news at our gender reveal and also to the “whole world”.

Pregnancy After Loss {part 3}; Facing Fears, Finding Hope.

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I’ve been doing what you could call a series of my journey through pregnancy after loss. I often wonder why I’m even posting such things because I wonder who’s even want to read this kind of thing. I guess I just want to share about pregnancy after loss and how I am doing for those curious, but I also really hope this “series” will help another momma who might walk this road.

In case you missed it, here is Part 1 and Part 2.

(As I was looking back in my journal, I re-read this quote I’d written down and it seems to fit this post perfectly. Maybe it will give a glimpse into why I sometimes fall back to fear instead of hope.)

We left off with me 12 weeks pregnant, about to head back to see the specialist that I saw in my entire pregnancy with Eisley.

So, there I was, 12 weeks pregnant, making the dreaded elevator ride up 4 floors to our Fetal Medicine Specialist’s office. You might remember me talking about these trips in my pregnancy with Eisley. We saw her almost every week to check on our Eisley-girl. She was incredible at her job, but her job doesn’t leave much room for optimism. If someone was seeing the FMS, that usually wasn’t good to begin with. The day before Eisley’s death was the first time she had ever been optimistic about Eisley’s life and the chance of her survival. So, with all of that said…. the thought of going back and seeing her was almost unbearable.

I walked in with a racing and fearful heart. I knew that they’d be doing a lot of testing (blood work and ultrasound screening). What news would today bring? Ted wasn’t able to be there (not his fault, just fyi :)) so my mom came along for support. The checkup began and we waited as the ultrasound technician went over baby #3′s body. She’d explain along the way what we were looking at and I felt small relief with each positive comment. The amnionic fluid was great, the blood from the placenta through the cord to the baby was great, the placenta has no clot or abruption, etc. Sweet relief. But my mind kept falling back to fear; I also knew that I hadn’t begun bleeding with Eisley until week 13 and I knew that at any given moment, things could take a turn for the worse, no matter how great everything looked just the day before.

After the ultrasound technician was finished, she called in Dr. Daye. I hadn’t seen Dr. Daye since the day of Eisley’s birth and was kind of worried as to what she’s say about me being pregnant only 5 months later (only for safety reason for this baby, not at a matter of opinion.) She came in smiling and told me she was excited to hear that we were pregnant again. What? Smiles and excitement. I felt as though I was looking at a different doctor. Remeber, I had said her job doesn’t leave much room for optimism so imagine my surprise and honestly, my relief. She looked over the scans of our new little one and then did her own thorough checkup to again confirm, everything looked awesome thus far.

She did go on to warn me that mother’s who have had a placenta abruptions, have a 10% chance of reoccurrence. My heart dropped. Even just 10% terrified me. She went on to say that mother’s who’ve had such a severe case like ours, usually don’t have as severe a case again, if at all.  I tried to find hope in that but then again, we were always on the bad news of the percentages with Eisley. We were the small percentage that ended with devastation.

She asked me personal questions about how I was doing. I told her that I just really wanted to get past 13 weeks. She told me that I was almost out of the 13th week. I was so confused and told her I was only 12. She showed me that the day of my last period and where I was currently was indeed 13 weeks. (it’s a long story, but the OB/GYN office had their records wrong of when my last period was which confused the information that was sent to Dr. Daye’s office).

I felt hope in hearing that I had made it to 13 weeks and there were no problems. Bittersweet “milemarker” number one.

In the beginning of this pregnancy I found that my fear far outweighed my hope but as each week passes, I find myself hoping more than fearing. Little by little…

This very trip that I’ve just written about, was also the trip that I spotted a little something that gave away baby #3′s gender. Part 4 will be a post {just} about what I hoped the gender would be from the beginning and what I felt when I learned this little one’s gender… This post I am a little worried about sharing publicly however, the question of what I feel regarding having a boy comes up a lot and I really do want to share my feelings and thoughts about this…

part 4 coming soon.