when words aren’t enough.
I have this deep welling up in me. I constantly feel like my body aches. I know it’s more mental and emotional but sometimes when I cry I just reach for my heart, as if it’s physical. As if I could ease the ache.
This is grief. And no matter how hard I try, there aren’t words to even describe the feeling inside of me… inside of Ted.
When I journal or I talk with friends or family, or when I blog or even when I pray… it’s hard to find the words. You might be thinking. “Seriously?!” because of how often I write here and how much I say. But the words, the words to describe this ache… there just aren’t words to express or portray even the slightest bit of how we ache inside.
When people asked me how I’m doing, I get this sudden lump in my throat and heat in my stomach and I literally have to fight the tears. I have this deep welling up inside that isn’t satisfied even by weeping (or writing, talking, singing…).
Yesterday, I realized a few really significant things for Ted and I.
First let me just say, I was really amazed at the response to my blog the “what ifs”. I knew being so raw and vunerable could leave people wondering why I would even share so much or even have people judge me. Honestly, I just didn’t care because I’ve shared where I am at this entire time and that day, I just really wanted to share.
In the responses to “the what ifs” post I received via email, facebook/twitter messages, here or a text message… I was in tears. Most of you would say “He knows” or “He knew” and things which spoke deeply to my heart. I know some of what was spoken to me was straight from the heart of God.
He knows (our ache, our hearts, our struggles, etc)
He loves us.
And we are clinging to that right now.
We were visiting our dear friends the Cobbs yesterday and as we were about to leave we remembered the time their little girl (3) prayed for Chase who was screaming (teething). All she said was, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus…” over and over. It was the most precious prayer, whispering his name over and over. My friend, Kat told us that they actually pray that way often because sometimes you just can’t find the words.
I love that and it rings so true in our lives. Sometimes, words aren’t enough. Right now, we can’t even find the words to speak even when we pray because this ache is so deep and overwhelming.
When I am weeping and crying out I can barely utter what my heart feels… but He knows. He knows my ache… Ted’s ache.
You might know those times (I think we’ve all been there at one point or another) when words aren’t enough. But He knows.
“Jesus, Jesus, Jesus… be with us now”
the “what ifs”…
Even before we lost Eisley I struggled with the “what ifs” and now that she is gone, they haunt me even more. If I wake up in the night my mind just messes with me so much which to be honest, is part of the reason I can’t sleep without Ambien for the first time in my life.
One of my favourite nurses would talk with me about the “what ifs” and how they could come to haunt me and how I would need to battle them with truth. The truth is, I feel like the what ifs are the truth. Right now I don’t think there is one person that could talk me out of that.
I am trying to feel what I need to feel. Sometimes it is guilt. Right now I feel immense guilt.
I struggle the most with wondering about the week and a half they gave me the okay to be up and around because they thought we were in the clear (I was 17 weeks and had stopped bleeding and at that point she was right on track). Because I had been on bed rest for almost 5 weeks at that point when they told me I was free to walk around, I overdid it. I took Chase out everyday to a park or outside or shopping. I Chased him around at the spray park. I overdid it and I wish I could take that week and a half back because that week and a half meant everything to her.
I struggle wondering if I didn’t stay on my left side often enough and when I would wake up at night sometimes I would be on my back and panic because I knew it wasn’t good for her. When I would go to bed at night, I would turn to fall asleep on my right side “because it was easier for me to fall asleep on my right side”. I regret being so selfish.
(Side note: They gave me an order of positions for best blood flow to the baby. The best position was on my left side, then my right side, then my back, then sitting, then standing. When I went to the hospital the totally cut out lying on my back, sitting up and standing.)
I wonder about my time that I was home and on bed rest. She barely grew then and it was my fault. You can try to talk me out of it, but I know it was. I would struggle asking my family to do everything for me and for Chase and I would get up to do a “quick diaper change” or to get a glass of water or make a “quick meal”… I regret being so stubborn and not asking for help for everything.
I also really struggle when I think back to the days that I sobbed with her inside of me. I know she could hear me and she could feel me shaking. I only did it twice when I was pregnant with her, but twice may have been too many times. I remember that Thursday before she passed away I had a horrible day. I was terrified of losing her and cried throughout the day. One of my nurses (who was with me that day I cried so much) told me after I lost Eisley, that she could see a change in me the day I cried. It made me wonder if I gave up hope … and I struggle with that right now too. I had never hoped for something as much as I had for her life… yet that day, I was terrified and feared I would lose her. Did I give up? Was one day of weeping too much for her?
The only thing I feel I did right was the amount of water I drank and how I totally cut out caffeine and all other beverages. But that is the only thing I feel I did 100% right.
I also struggle knowing that my placenta may have failed her (we don’t know for sure what happened yet, placenta or chromosome, the tests come back in a few weeks… as if it could make things better…) I am always battling, wondering if there was something more I could have done. Everyday I wonder.
She was so perfect and it just doesn’t make sense or add up. What happened? What went wrong? Could I have done more? All of these questions are haunting me right now. I will probably never know and that is so very hard. But I know that I wish I would have seen the severity of everything from day one. I knew something was wrong, but I wish I would have done more…
I am really struggling today… lately… this week has been incredibly difficult. I’ve felt so guilty this week and have shut down emotionally more than I know is healthy. I want to feel what I need to feel, so if it’s guilt I need to feel, then so be it. I just don’t want to become numb and let the loss of Eisley be one that changes me negatively forever. I want her life to change mine for the best. I want to carry on her legacy and the trust and hope I had in Him throughout everything.
Right now, I am struggling and I am asking you to pray for me to know how to handle this guilt in the best way.
I always wonder if I contributed negatively more than I helped her. I feel like I failed, I feel solely responsible even if it was the placenta because it’s my body that did this to her, it was my body that failed her. I wish I would have protected her more. I wish I could rewind and try harder.
I would change oh so many things to have my Eisley here in my arms.
To my dear sweet Eisley.
Right now we are broken because we hoped you would be in our arms. We hoped your first party would be one where you were passed from person to person as they admired your beauty and life. But even though we don‘t have you (physically) here with us, we are celebrating you today. Our friends and family are standing with us to admire and honour your beauty, your life and the legacy you’ve left behind. You are so loved!
We all prayed for your healing. We prayed for life to your bones and for nourishment …and He did what we’ve asked of Him. You are whole and perfect. You are healed and have more life in you than we could imagine here on earth. You are being nourished by His presence.
It may not be the way we thought or what we had hoped for and it is hard to understand why you couldn’t stay with us, but I know someday we will see you again.
Until then, I will remember the time I had with you and hold it very dear to my heart.
I will remember with joy, the day that I found out we were pregnant with you, our little surprise baby. I will always remember rejoicing on August 8th at our ‘Pink or Blue party’ where we found out you we were our little girl and we began calling you by name, our little Eisley Antalya.
I will remember feeling your little kicks and the rhythmic thump, thump, thump of your hiccups deep inside.
I will remember the very first time I felt you kick from the outside, at the very same time your daddy felt too. I will remember the ultrasounds where we watched you suck her thumb and stick your tongue out. I will remember the daily heart monitoring and hearing your swift heart beat, beat, beat to let me know you were okay.
I will remember the night before you went to be with Jesus, when you reacted to her daddy’s voice as he talked to you. I will remember your final kicks to me the morning you passed away, as if you were telling me goodbye.
I will remember the day we finally gave birth to you, September 17th- the first time we held you in our arms and the peace that washed over us we held you. I will remember how in awe we were of your perfect little Chase-like nose, your beautifully shaped lips and your tiny little hands and feet.…I will remember just how perfectly and wonderfully you were made.
We love you, our Eisley-girl and you will forever be apart of our lives and in our hearts. You will be apart of the steps we take as we walk throughout life. I know my life and the lives of many others will always be inspired by the legacy you’ve left behind.
I wrote you many letters when you were in my womb and this letter was by far the hardest because I feel like it’s another step to letting you go, but when I remember where you are and Who you are with it helps my heart ache a little less. I remember you are healed and that you aren’t suffering and that is what I want for you above all else.
I know you’re loving being with Jesus, as He’s showing you the universe.
Rest peacefully between His shoulders, my sweet Eisley-girl.
Let Me Tell You About Eisley.
(We asked our friend Nathan to write a short story about our Eisley-girl that could be read at her memorial. He wrote this beautiful piece.)
Let me tell you about Eisley .
We all waited for her with baited breaths, waiting for the day when we heard the news that all was well, waiting for the day when we could see Jami’s beauty and Ted’s passion in her eyes. To have her little finger wrap around ours, to hear her laugh at the stupid faces we all make at babies…
Let me tell you about Eisley.
Everyone has a story, no matter how short or long their life, there is always a story, We know from Jeremiah that God knew her before she was formed he knew her story. . In every story there is beauty and every story is a part of an even greater tale. Often stories are filled with questions, some times the questions seem too great and distract us from the story, but we must remember the story, we must find the beauty in it. Eisley has a story.
There is so much that we do not know about who she is, what she would have been as she grew, who she would have become, but there are things we do know, we know she was a fighter and she was stubborn we know that she was strong, we know the dreams her parents had for her, dreams that she would filled with life, to face the world head on vivaciously, we know the love that was and is had for her from a vast community.
We mourn the loss of her life, here in our story, but envy the world of perfect, brilliant, beauty that she is now absorbed in. We miss her dearly, the expectation of seeing her learn to laugh and dance, sing and run, to manipulate her daddy, like we all know she would have, we miss seeing the adoration that would have been in her eyes for her big brother, and in a few years the contempt of his playful picking. We miss the art that would have been created with Jami as they grew as mother and daughter. We miss that deep-seated hope that everything will be ok. But friends, let me tell you… God is no less holding Eisley and us in his arms now, weeping with us as we mourn and celebrate, as he was every moment for these past months as we worried for her and Jami. I am filled with joy and longing as I picture Eisley walking side by side with our creator, her tiny hand cradled in his, the hand that formed her and all the universe, telling her stories of those who love her, how proud he is of her parents, and brother, telling her the stories of those one day coming to join her. Telling her how much we and he love her.
Let Me Tell You About Eisley written by Nathan Rowlan
You Will Find Me
Ted and I were searching for music that spoke to us where we are at right now. He found this. Amazing.
You Will Find Me
When your souls weary//When you find doubt
When you can’t hear me// Lay your troubles down
In your dark moments//When your hearts weak
Bring yourself broken // You will find me
Who wrote the rain // Who wrote the sun in // Who called your name // Where are you running // I’m gonna be there near or far // I’m gonna meet you where you are // Who wrote your name // Who wrote the sun in
When you come thirsty // When the wells dry
When your souls dirty // I am by your side
When your faiths broken // When you can’t see
With my arms open // You will find me
You carried all my shame // When you called my name // I am not the same
Who wrote the rain // Who wrote the sun in // Who called your name // Where are you running // I’m gonna be there near or far // I’m gonna meet you where you are // Who wrote your name // Who wrote the sun in
The Beautiful Party for Eisley.
On Saturday we celebrated Eisley’s life with dear friends and family.
We were so touched by how many people came and recognized our daughter’s life and felt the loss of her , even though they had never personally met her.
We had our friend Darren do a medley of ‘You Are My Sunshine’ and a piece of a song by Manchester Orchestra. I will post the lyrics, the meaning to us and the song itself soon. (They actually recorded it for us so we can have it forever)
(We had this photo stretched onto canvas and will put it up in whatever place we call home)
Ted shared the meaning of the songs in the medley. I read a letter I wrote to Eisley. Our friend Katherine read a short story we asked our friend Nate to write, about the life and storyof Eisley. And then we ended with ‘Hallelujah’ and ‘How Great is Our God’ as we released pink balloons her honour. Everything combined was as we hoped it would be. It was difficult and tearful and painful, but beautiful.
One of the most memorable, beautiful things was the balloon release.
Eisley, you are so loved.
I can’t explain with words just how much it meant to us to have everyone celebrating her life with us and those of you who celebrated her life from around the world (pictures of balloons release from around the world soon.)
Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts.
It was an especially emotional day. We felt everything from grieving the loss of dreams we had for her as we watched the balloons float high above us to the next second feeling inexplicable peace and joy when we remembered Who she was with. We celebrated her life and mourned her loss at all once. It was beautiful and painful. I can’t even find the words to express exactly how is was for us, but it was everything we hoped.
_____________________________________________________________
(I almost didn’t add this, but to be honest, I really feel I should be raw. We need prayer. When everyone left the party for Eisley and we went home, the weight of everything began to hit us again. I told a friend that I didn’t want the memorial service to end because I was afraid people would forget her life and legacy. We’re also afraid to feel alone in this. We have no idea “how to handle” loss other than feeling what we need to feel, but even then?…I think I will write a bit more about this later, but please pray for Ted and I.)
Forever, her big brother.
Chase did his balloon release for Eisley a little after the service and it was something I think a lot of us will never forget.
It’s true, he doesn’t know the fullness of the loss of his baby sister, but he know something has happened. We taught him to say “baby” when we learned I was pregnant with Eisley and he would give kisses to my belly. I know he knew something and I can’t say how much, but I can say that I am telling him about his baby sister Eisley and will continue to tell him her story until he understands. He will know her as his sister.
I still hard for me wrap my mind around her not being here to run around with him. My heart aches when I’m reminded of this as I watch him play. Today we walked to a park with my sisters and I watched him run around and do and say things that make him suddenly seem so big. It’s really hard for me to watch him get bigger knowing she isn’t going to be growing alongside him. I don’t know if this makes any sense, but it’s one of many dreams I had for her that I have to let go.
It’s so hard to watch the dreams we had for the two of them disappear so quickly. I think we will ache often throughout the years as we watch Chase grow up without Eisley by his side and we’ll always wonder what it would have been like. Yesterday, watching him let the balloon go was memorable yet hard. Beauty intertwined with the bitter taste of letting those dreams go.
It might “get easier as time passes” but right now it is so very, very hard.
Jesus, be our strength as we ache and grieve the loss of our daughter and Chase’s baby sister.
A “party for Eisley”!
I was looking through my photos to find a “picture that says a thousand words” and this fit perfectly. ( I took this on one of our Thailand outreaches)
Saying this past week has been hard is putting it lightly. I’ve avoided getting things all in order and ready for the memorial service for Eisley. I know it needs to get done, but it feels so hard to plan this memorial because I feel like it’s another step to letting her go and saying goodbye. I feel like we are becomming more and more aware, that this is our reality; She is gone. I really, really hate those three words.
When a friend saw that I am having a hard time planning this memorial service and that I’ve even been avoiding it, she wrote me with a challenge she felt God gave her to give me. She wrote about how this “wasn’t the Jami she knew”, the one enjoyed planning events and especially those for the ones I love and my kids. I realized how right she was. I put so much effort and work into the ‘Pink or Blue’ party for Eisley and had a blast planning it. And I want to put as much effort into our daughter’s memorial, the celebration of her life. When I initially sent out the invites to the memorial, even then I wrote “a celebration of her life” and I meant that with everything in me. Over time, I guess I let that vision sink away while the sorrow has settled inside of me.
My friend wrote about making it more of a “party for Eisley” and I love that idea. That is what we want.
I told Ted last night about the challenge to look at this as her party even though she cannot attend physically. We both got teary because it is hard that we’re planning this kind of party without her here with us, but we really want to honour and celebrate our little Eisley’s life.
So, let’s celebrate sweet Eisley! I hope you can attend the party for Eisley this Saturday and if you can’t attend in person, stand with us in prayer and in your thoughts that day. And if you want to, we will be releasing pink balloons during the service and I want to ask that you TOO will release a pink balloon whereever you are and snap a photo of it and send it to my email address; . I will put it in her scrapbook!
Eisley will be watching us celebrate her life as she rests between His shoulders. I do believe that, with all of my heart. :)
(I took this photo when I was first pregnant with Eisley. These photos of our spring walk that day will forevermore cause me to think of her when I see them.)
Eisley-girl, we’re going to throw you the best party ever, in honour of your life and your legacy. You are loved, so very loved.
Joy Amidst.
Chase is so very glad to have me home.
He follows me all around more then ever before. Wherever mommy goes, he goes. And if he catches me headed to the back of the house to use the restroom or to our room, he freaks out. I think he’s afraid I’m going to leave again, which breaks my heart.
We’ve spent a lot of time outside together. He will run around and then run at me and literally throw himself into my arms. I love it. Watching him run around, play, dance, talk, laugh at himself… He is my little joy amidst this deep sorrow I feel.
I decided the first day back home, that if I needed to cry in front of him, I would. Even though he doesn’t understand or feel the loss of his sister, he know something has happened. I know he does. When I cry, he comes to me, climbs into my lap and reaches up to touch the tears on my face. He snuggles me more often and kisses my face when I cry or even just because. I was telling a friend that it’s like the sweetest poem come to life, if that makes any sense at all.
I have been in awe of how sensitive he has been to me. I think it’s God’s grace and love pouring out all over him and into me in this time.
He is such a joy. And boy does he make me laugh. I mean, just look at that “squinty face”. How can you not laugh? Chase also learned to say “I love you” in his own way this week, which I find incredibly fitting in this time. He say “I (something in gibberish) you” or just “I you” and it means the world to me.
I wrote this in my previous blog, but I often think of Chase as Eisley’s big brother and the dreams I had for the two of them together. I ache knowing they will never happen but I know someday we will see her again. For now I am just telling Chase (and one day our other children) about his sister and the legacy she left behind. Teaching him of who she was as I got to know her deeply in my time with her. He will love her as his sister even though she will never walk this earth with him.
(When I took this photo and uploaded, I immediately thought of my two sunshines. My little sunshine Eisley in heaven and my sunshine Chase here on earth.)
Thank you Jesus for my babies. Thank you for the time you let me have with my Eisley-girl and for letting Chase be our little joy here on earth with us. I am cherishing every moment with him more than I ever have. I am so very, very thankful for Chase and Eisley and for being given this honour of being their mommy.
Where my heart and mind aren’t connecting.
The past few days I have been having flashbacks of the day Eisley’s heart stopped beating. It all comes back to me, like a nightmare, only this is our reality.
I’m lying in the hospital bed as they use the monitor to search for her heartbeat. 5 minutes pass, then 15, then 30. I think deep inside I knew but I kept hoping. 45 minutes passed and I began to have a hard time remembering to just breath.
My heart was racing and they kept finding my heartbeat low where hers normally was. Each time they would find my heart and I could hear it beating, I would just close my eyes and listen and feel my own heart in my chest. This wasn’t her heart, it was mine. My heart racing because I knew she was gone.
They called Dr. Hill in and he came quickly along with an ultrasound machine. I felt like I was in a horrible nightmare as they plugged it in and kept thinking “This can’t be happening. I just felt her this morning”. They put the warm jelly on my stomach and I had to force my eyes to look at the screen that would tell me if my baby girl was still hanging on or not. I could see right away, she wasn’t reacting as she normally did when we had ultrasounds. I could see she was still. Dr. Hill brought the wand over my belly for a few minutes and finally pointed to the screen. He told me we were looking at her heart and that is was no longer beating.
I immediately began moaning and crying out “Oh God, no” over and over. The most horrible moment, realizing she was no longer with me.
I couldn’t even bring myself to call Ted and I had one of my favourite nurses make the dreaded call. Ted told me when he saw my number pop up on his phone, but heard Deb’s voice instead of mine; he knew. Our girl was gone.
Because I was alone so often, I had this horrible feeling that if I ever did lose Eisley, that I would be alone when I found out. And I was. My body shook from shock and sobbing for what seemed like forever but was probably not even an hour. I felt so alone and confused during that time. But when I finally regained my composure, I realized, I was most definitely not alone. Dr. Hill and two of my nurses had stayed by my side and Dr. Hill was actually rubbing my leg to comfort me, which I didn’t notice until I looked around. Dr. Hill stood close to me with tears in his eyes and my nurses were crying as well as they stood by my bedside. I wasn’t completely alone; I was surrounded by two nurses who I have grown to love and our amazing Doctor who has been such an incredible blessing throughout our pregnancy. Once I really opened my eyes, I soaked up the comfort they offered me in that time and the tears they shared with me meant the world to me.
One thing I still wrestle with is that I didn’t feel God’s presence when I found out my daughter was gone. Maybe it was because of the hopes and dreams I had for her were gone in an instant, but in that few hours of my life, I felt so confused, and alone and even abandoned by the One I placed my hope in. That is the one part of the week that still bothers my heart greatly and I’m still trying to process the entire day… and the time I felt without Him. But He did provide me with people who loved me and grieved with me, until Ted was able to get to Denver.
I guess where I am at currently, in this hour and sporadically throughout the past few days is denial. It sounds so twisted, that I can remember these horrible moments yet I feel like this can’t be happening. She can’t be gone. My heart still can’t believe what my mind keeps telling me. She is gone. I think that is why I keep having these flashbacks. I want to “make sense” of what happened. I just want to understand what happened and it even ask it replays over and over it just doesn’t seem real. Denial. One of the “stages of grieving”, I know, I’ve heard. I go through probably all of the stages throughout one day and over and over sometimes. It will probably be like this for a while and I am really trying to let myself feel what I need to feel.
Yesterday little things I read or heard or saw kept triggering this feeling of “it just doesn’t seem fair” in me. We had dreams and hopes for our daughter that were all gone in the instant they told us that her heart had stopped beating. Yesterday I kept thinking of Chase and how he will never know his little baby sister Eisley. They were going to be 16 months apart and they were going to be best friends. He was going to be her protector and give her big sloppy wet kisses. He was going to be the best big brother Eisley could ever had. All of those dreams are gone… and it breaks my heart more than words can say.
I will always tell Chase and someday our other children, of Eisley and who she was and the legacy she left behind, but it does break my heart that they will never personally know her and grow up with her. I watch Chase run around and I mourn the loss of his baby sister who I want so badly to be running along side him.
Our hearts and minds are having a hard time connecting the dots between what is reality and where we had such hopes and dreamed for our daughter. It’s even hard for me to put into words because it’s so obvious physically… she is gone… yet my heart doesn’t quite grasp that fully.
I know this is kind of a raw post, but it’s where I am at and I always want to be real and raw. Will you please pray for me? For Ted? For our hearts and minds to begin to connect the dots as we mourn the dreams we had for our Eisley and at the loss of her life. I am not strong, I am really the weakest I have ever felt. It’s not that I am in an unhealthy place but I’m hurting and aching and in need of your prayers. Ted is too.
Thanks for your love and support in this time.
