tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65997300223868410572024-03-12T23:14:38.978-04:00the remsnydersSeth and Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01534435028118848508noreply@blogger.comBlogger376125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-1312733553256219902018-07-20T14:39:00.002-04:002018-07-20T16:48:11.012-04:00what a stillbirth is. and isn't. <div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
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“When fetal death occurs after 20 weeks of pregnancy, it is called stillbirth. These tragic deaths occur in about 1 in 160 pregnancies (1). Most stillbirthsoccur before labor begins. The pregnant woman may suspect that something is wrong if the fetus suddenly stops moving around and kicking.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">I've stayed quiet and stopped writing the past four years or so. In the beginning I found writing to be a helpful outlet for loss and an opportunity to invite others into a place people rarely share for the sake of learning what the grief process is like. During my absence from here, my grief took several turns and God used our trip to Disney in November 2014 to lift me out of a very dark place that I had been in since April of that same year. While I made progress, the holidays came, a new year, my birthday, and then the one year mark. Add in Minnie in 2015 and my realization that I struggle with PPD and PPA. While I enjoyed the outlet this blog allowed I went quiet partly because I felt like I had nothing new to say and as time passed, it wasn't healing all wounds. Additionally, getting to the place where I am “well” was and is a priority of paramount importance. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">I'm back to writing and sharing because there have been some things from the past few years that I haven't talked about due to their sensitive nature. I knew I wanted to be in a better place to craft my words, that they would come from a place of processed emotions and not a reaction to something that caused me to struggle. I want to be clear that this post is not coming from a place of bitterness, judgement, anger, or resentment. I've found that sometimes things need to be said and if they aren't the trend continues. I'm speaking to this topic because it is something that can deeply wound and hurt a mom who has had a stillbirth experience. Im also writing because there is very little publicly written on this topic and it is a common experience for a stillbirth mother to have. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">Simply put: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">A miscarriage is NOT a stillbirth. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">In the wake of our loss and the hours and days and weeks and years that followed the hell we lived in, a near constant refrain that my husband and I would often get as a preface to many conversations was: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">"I had a miscarriage at (fill in the blank) weeks..." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">Before I continue on, I want to be clear, if you said this to me, I am not upset with you. I'm not writing this to give you a backhanded passive aggressive correction. To be perfectly honest, I received this comment from so many people, I stopped keeping track who said it and going back to each individual would be far too much. So here I write, my attempt to explain why that's unhelpful and how it hurts. It is something that upset me those first few weeks and was a consistent topic in my meetings with my grief counselor. I say that not to guilt, but to give an accurate window into the place I was coming from. Ultimately, I hope what I share is a means to caring for moms better in the future and to learn. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">Don't make someone else's loss about you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">A statement like that can make a Mom or Dad feel like they have to enter into your sadness and pain in the midst of a time that is complete and total emotional turmoil. Simply put, they do NOT have the capacity to do this. If you have walked through the grief of losing a child this way, you would probably understand why, if you haven't I honestly pray you never have to know the pain. I often felt bewildered after receiving these comments via text, email, and comments on social media. I did not know how to process or respond. Time has given me the ability to reflect. My initial reaction was confusion because let's face it, no one sits down and explains to you from a medical standpoint that this is a stillbirth (they really should, it would be incredibly helpful and affirming) and what that means from a simple definition standpoint. When moms would make references to miscarriage it never felt like a place I belonged and I did not feel any ability to relate to their circumstances, nor them to mine. Yes, child loss is a common thread that weaves together moms and takes on different forms, but the experiences of that loss are not the same. I am not minimizing the horror, pain, or suffering that comes from a miscarriage either and seeking to elevate my experiences above theirs. I'm simply trying to explain how they're not the same and using that as a platform to reach out is not helpful. Here's some ways it's different. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">I felt him move in my womb and when he died, experienced an absence of that movement. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">We knew him as a boy, our son, for several weeks before he died. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">I was admitted to the hospital to induce labor and waited 24 hours to hold my child. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">I held my baby in my arms and delivered him the exact same way I did my other children. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">When the day was through and it was clear his body was made for heaven and not earth, and you literally watched the decay happen to his body before your very eyes, we said goodbye. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">Two days later we buried him in the ground out of respect for human life and in his sacred memory. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">For three straight weeks I had to stave off my milk coming in by wearing a sports bra around the clock 24/7 and could only take a shower every few days to keep my milk from letting down. Sorry if that's tmi for some. But the horror of that experience is still very real to me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">Good intentions are not always good. I fully recognize and am aware that that statement comes from a good place, a desire to share and say: “hey, you're not alone, I care.” I think there's better ways to do that. Having struggled through these years, I have learned I could never fully relate to a mom who was lost her still born child at full term, or a mom who's baby died in her arms post delivery, or a mom who's baby died of cancer at two years old. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">But that's my point. The sharing or stories and the creating a bond comes at a different time. In the wake of raw and unimaginable grief, a simple statement of care can simply be: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">"I'm so sorry for your loss, I can't imagine the pain you are walking through, but I am thinking of you and carrying you on my heart. I will remember your son." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">That's enough. It doesn't have to be a download of here's how we can relate. A simple statement doesn't seem like a lot but it speaks volumes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">“I'm so sorry for your loss”: it acknowledges that child, what the family is walking through and the pain they are experiencing from that loss. A loss that is so unnatural, a father and mother were never made to bury their child and say goodbye. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">“I can't imagine the pain you are walking through”: you can't because it isn't you and no amount of shared experience will ever build that bridge. Every loss is unique and no two losses are ever the same. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">“I'm thinking of you and will remember your son” : this is what most parents want. Their child to be remembered forever and always. It stings that they will not raise them in an earthly home with earthly arms, but they will always be counted among them. I am a mother of four, not three, and people who affirm that, they will never know how much that means. I had one mom email me on every 10th for the entire year just saying she was thinking of me, remembering Bobby and praying. I will never forget her and what that meant to me. She wasn't flowery in her words, she was simply acknowledging my pain and grief and letting me know she cared. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">I don't want this to be a copy and paste statement. I just felt it was important to provide an alternative and the whys behind the word choices. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">We all have a lot to learn. It’s a part of life. I hope my voice and experiences can be something that helps change our approach and ways of caring for people in the wake of their loss(es). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;">Sent from my iPhone</span></div>
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scremhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15876151454164797646noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-90925684032624007822014-12-15T00:06:00.001-05:002014-12-15T00:06:18.617-05:00holidays that hurt and hope that comes.<div><span style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRfwZgSA7B5TrTshf6_3EsEtQJe6aQjwlRpEp7cqji5xzMdE_lhuMrVfAQTS9DIvZvic0ING9rz1t9ojeiFEvDiNqhYy9gV1PErFsz-JkVSAjQMRi53JIDmiG-XuEJ3VpbPBVk0hG6bqQ/s640/blogger-image--894717798.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRfwZgSA7B5TrTshf6_3EsEtQJe6aQjwlRpEp7cqji5xzMdE_lhuMrVfAQTS9DIvZvic0ING9rz1t9ojeiFEvDiNqhYy9gV1PErFsz-JkVSAjQMRi53JIDmiG-XuEJ3VpbPBVk0hG6bqQ/s640/blogger-image--894717798.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><span style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><div>I never know when the missing and wave of grief will come. A few weeks ago, it was when I closed the front door and the chill winter air flooded my senses as I watched the first snow fall of the season out the front door. Bobby, you were missed in that moment. Moments like that where the earth stands still for just a second and you remind yourself to take your next breath and your stomach flips as you turn to walk away. It's been almost 8 months and it's still hard for my mind to process. The reality that as long as we live, he will always be missing. </div></span><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">There is a sadness that hangs in the air as everyone talks about the season. Each holiday display, ad, and pinterest post feels like a lashing. Christmas cards arrive and while I'm grateful to be remembered and included there isn't the family picture I dreamed of sending. As I walked through Trader Joes last week, I teared up as the song "all I want for Christmas is you" played over the speakers. I stopped for a moment in front of the drink section and paused. As if I couldn't take another step without acknowledging the pain and the missing I was feeling for my boy in that moment. I just kept thinking, as tears welled up in my eyes, that he is all I really wanted for Christmas this year. I must have stopped so long, the store clerk approached me asking if I needed help finding anything. "No I'm fine thanks," I replied. </span></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">In those moments that's when death stings the most. Grief stares you down and says "I win for now." My arms that are empty still ache to be filled with my boy. I'm still feeling the physical effects of missing him. Grief runs its course in that way too. Aching arms, moments when a baby cries and you feel like your milk might let down, and sleepless nights thinking of the life that you could have had. </span></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">When I think of Christmas, I think of sickness and a room full of family as they opened one of their presents announcing that there would be a baby joining us next Christmas. A chorus of shrill squeals and congratulations followed. This year there won't be my Bobby to pass around, the long awaited gift was returned, far too soon. <span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">There's a lot of painful reminders that lie ahead and a lot of memories to relive from last year. Land mines, as I've called them before. A whole field to get through. </span> </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">As people I talk of "the most wonderful time of the year" I want to hide and be alone. Getting a tree up sounds like a miracle and passing presents around feels trite. I don't want the gifts this year, I just want to celebrate the truth of the holiday. That Christ came to shine a light into our darkness. Born as a baby to make a way for me to inherit his righteousness, to be fully loved by God. That's where the celebration for me is, because He came, I can, someday, live with my Bobby forever and while I sing his praises here, I can join in the heavenly chorus there. A place where there won't be any more tears or sadness or grief at the sound of a holiday or the passing of a month mark since I held him. Celebrating that truth is where I've found my joy in a season that has brought an overwhelming feeling of Bobby's absence. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br><div>Do I believe in gods grace? Yes. </div><div>Do I know that God goes before me? Yes. </div><div>Do I believe that God ordained this? Yes. </div><div>Do I know God is with me? Yes. </div><div><br></div><div>All those truths and the impact on your heart does not mean there will be peace, love and joy in your heart at every moment when loss is present. Celebrations and holidays are harsh reminders that life isn't the way it should be and it doesn't mean that someone who believes and trusts in God wont experience immense sorrow on those days. What God gives us grace for doesn't mean the days we live in aren't hard. God's truth changes your outlook because you know God promises to lift you out and lift your head but it doesn't mean life and reminders don't hurt. Denying it and putting on the happy face to fit in doesn't make it better. I can't force this holiday season to be a joyful experience, all I can do is find joy in Him, the one who gives and takes away. </div><div><br></div><div>I've always written to be true to myself and this grieving process. I can't fake this and my honesty flows in every letter, word, and paragraph I write. My purpose in all this is to write about grief in the present tense. The reality of the process is it's so very hard to see God's perfect plan of redemption being worked out even if the head knowledge is there. It is a literal living of the cliche phrase "one day at a time." </div></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I hate that life still sucks and hurts, in some ways, just as much as it did the day we found out. In other ways, our grief has been put on hold as wave after wave of life have kept coming at us: more death, financial stresses, life decisions, sickness, etc it don't give you a break. It's when all is quiet, the moon shines in on the far wall of our bedroom and some nights I stare at it for endless hours just thinking about all that this year has brought. It's in those alone and silent moments that grief comes and reminds you that this is a process that is still going on even on the best days. </div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">2014, you were the year that took me deeper than my feet could ever wander. New Years always start with fresh hope and big dreams. The hope we've found in the midst of suffering is a deeper and truer hope than I knew before. Nothing is certain. All we get is today. Life is crazy raising our two girls. In many ways I feel I've failed them, but I know this: they got to see our God pull me out of a deep dark place. I pray so much that He uses that for good in their lives in the years to come. I don't know if I'll ever use the phrase "I wouldn't change a thing" because if I had known how this year would have played out I would have changed a lot. Belly pictures of growing babes aren't so obnoxious, selfies can be a gift, filing a closet just to pack it away hurts, and opening your heart up to love can mean your world ends up upside down because you loved so deeply. I changed this year and it was the farthest from my dreams, but now I can say with full confidence as a tuck my scared little buddy Behr into bed that the promise that Jesus is always with us is the truth. HE NEVER FAILS AND HE WILL NEVER LEAVE. </div>Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-28307766280285675512014-10-20T00:35:00.005-04:002014-10-20T01:26:22.393-04:00Hope within Hopelessness<div style="background-color: white;">
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This is a humbling darkness to share, but I wouldn't be honest if I said that these struggles weren't a part of my journey. My goal in writing is to share my grief in the present tense. I've talked a lot about darkness and not a lot about specifics. I wanted to write this post to illustrate what the darkness is and the many forms it can take in the life of a believer w</span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">ho </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">is g</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">rieving. 2014 will most likely will be, the hardest year of my life. We've tasted death far too much. Mama Bear passed after a heroic battle with cancer, losing my son, one of my <a href="http://www.wearethefamilymorris.com/wearethefamilymorris/2014/7/1/post-48-the-miscarriage-story">best friend's miscarrying her baby</a>, then my Dad dying on Mothers Day. This past week, the incredible woman who gave us Bobby's plot and told us it "would be an honor to be laid to rest next to our son", passed away, far too soon and suddenly. Her death completely leveled me. Death stings like a son of a bitch and it cuts deep. There's no sense to made of it all. As much as I hate that these things I share have been a struggle, I still believe in a faithful God who redeems and who never left me in the midst of a grief that often left me questioning the very faith I professed for most of my life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222;">I was just waiting for my turn. My fear of death was gone and the hope of heaven was the answer. I never struggled with self harm thoughts or suicide, but a car accident, cancer, or some other fatal sickness didn't seem so bad. One day I walked across the street in front of Wegmans and thought to myself "if that truck hit me, it would be ok." That was a low point for me. I certainly never would have stepped out in front of a car to get hit, but if the driver didn't see me it would be a "happy accident." I told those closest to me I would welcome it, if that meant I could go home and be with my Bobby. It was an ironic hope within total hopelessness. I did my best to try to not make it sound morbid and I truly believe in my heart I loved my boy and being with him felt like the answer and the fulfillment of one of the deepest longings I've experienced. I described these thoughts and feelings at a recent follow up with my Nurse Practitioner. She looked at me and said, "what about your girls?" My eyes filled with tears and I knew. Even if I have been physically present in their lives my thoughts had pulled me far from this earth. I longed for heaven with such a deep ache that I missed what was still here for me "after the storm." That was me these past six months: waking up in the morning not knowing who I was anymore and realizing I'll never go back to who I was before April 6, 2014. Everything in me hated what had become of myself as a result of these overwhelming losses. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222;">Thoughts like these filled my mind on a daily basis:</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"The girls would be better off in full time day care. I just can't do this Mom thing."</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"I never want to get out of bed again."</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"If I could just be alone and take a break from life I can finally grieve the way I need to."</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"I wish I could just get through the day without feeling like I need someone to hold my hand."</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I still believe in the hope of heaven, that it's the place where all our sorrows will be redeemed, but I got lost in the sadness and grief and couldn't see what I had here. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222;">Experiencing Bobby's death was twofold in a way, his earthly life was lost and a part of myself died with him when I left the hospital with empty arms. I didn't know how to go on. I was the extrovert turned introvert, the social turned recluse, the happy turned sorrowful, the functional turned dependent. "Normal" tasks felt like insurmountable challenges. The darkness was dark and the pit was deep. A mother was never made to bury her child, that was never part of God's good design for this life. Yet there I was, on that rainy Monday leaving the ultrasound office with a picture of my boy turned facedown while my world was being turned upside down. During that week, God showed his love for us and Bobby in profound ways. The biggest, being one of the most perfect and peaceful resting places, that was generously given to us by a cemetery counselor turned friend. God carried us when I couldn't see and in the countless moments when my "heart and my flesh may have failed." Going in to that week and coming out on the other side with the burial of my boy on that serenely perfect Saturday changed me. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Six months later, God is still redeeming that week and still pulling me out of the pit. That profound moment sitting on the crinkly white paper in a doctors office was when God came to me and showed me he has more for me here. More work to do. A legacy to live on behalf of my boy. Two daughters to raise to love Jesus and their brother. A husband to stand by and choose again and again even when our grief leads us down different paths.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I wouldn't call that day a totally snap out of it magical revelation, but the influence it had on my head and my heart was certainly profound. This past week, I finally stopped and made time to sit down and talk with my oldest, Audrey. Just about life and princesses and art and tornadoes (her recent weather related fixation) and we had a beautiful conversation. As I walked out of her room and said goodnight I realized what I had missed. The ordinary. The connection. The engaging moments of daily life. I realized she had grown up these past six months and she had changed too. I'm looking for those opportunities now. Even today, Audrey and I got to enjoy the sweetest date time, driving down the highway one of my "Bobby songs" came on shuffle, the light shone so bright and I missed him, deeply. Yet in that very same moment of missing, I was also taking in the endless chatter in the back seat from my girl who had so many stories to tell and things she wanted to talk about. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I realized I could have both. I can remember my boy and enjoy my girl. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222;">It's humbling, I can't recall many memories from the past 180 days, other than my children were clothed and fed. There are entire days that I've forgotten and erased from my memory. Days that I've been told by friends that "they've never seen me so bad" and I wouldn't know where to start to tell you why or what even triggered the downward spiral. When you're living a nightmare I guess it makes sense. You want to forget. You want to wake up and all will be made right. In that grief driven, depressed, dream like state of mere daily survival, I missed a lot. I don't have to let my guilt, sadness, and grief drown me, because my Savior lived and died to conquer sin and death. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Randy Alcorn shares this most beautiful picture of that day when our losses will be redeemed:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"Now then the question in the resurrection and so that the older person becomes a younger person again, but in a body without suffering. However, what about those who have never reached that peak? What about children who died? Well, we do have those passages in Isaiah 11 and Isaiah 65 that seem to clearly have some children on the new earth. And so I think one possibility with that is they could be resurrected at the age they were when they died. If that is the case then God would not fast forward. He would not skip any stage. And I think in some ways that would almost make sense that there would not be a skipping of stages, but that they as children could literally grow up on the new earth.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Now if that is the case — and that is speculation — but to me it would fit beautifully with Luke six and other passages where God brings comfort to the mourners and in the sense of you have been through this, but I will compensate in the world to come in the resurrection. You have experienced mourning. I will give you laughter. You were deprived of raising a child who died at a young age. Maybe you will be able to be there with your child as he or she grows up on the new earth without threat of death, harm, abuse or anything else. And to me somehow I just believe it would be just like our God to perhaps do that. And then the rejoicing there will be in contrast to the loss and the misery and the suffering on earth will be celebrated for all eternity because everybody will know: You know what? I loved raising my kids on the old earth, but, wow, to have grown up here.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I like to imagine that heaven will begin where we all left off with Bobby. A 21 week little belly and the promise of a pain free labor. No post partum complications. Breastfeeding with ease. Sleepless nights won't feel sleepless with a newborn. Watching him grow and experiencing those early days of life with Bobby in its fullness as a family. Every milestone experieced: the perfect smell of newborn skin, first smile, first laugh, rolling over, sitting up, crawling, first solids, first kiss, first hug, first I love you and the list goes on for days. I have to agree with Alcorn that "it would be just like our God to perhaps do that." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I don't have to hurry up to get there or miss what I have here. His promises are sure "that he will wipe every tear from our eyes and death shall be no more." There's more for me here. I don't know why God made Bobby and took him back, but I do know it is just like our God to redeem. So I can say no to guilt, and hold my head high with the strength He provides, and live the rest of my ordained days to their fullness. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>John 1:5 "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."</i></span></span><br />
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Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-88402704988247948722014-10-08T23:05:00.000-04:002014-10-08T23:05:45.468-04:00A Tribute with a Name. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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(PC: <a href="http://www.imkristen.com/2014/09/bobbys-balloons.html">I'm Kristen</a>)</div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I write a lot about tears, grief, stillbirth, sadness and loss, but there is a story of redemption that God is writing, one day at a time, with me patiently waiting and trusting as it unfolds. Aside from my husband, no one has walked closer to me </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">through all this than my best friend of 15 years, Becca. We met in high school yearbook, went to college, got married, I had my first daughter and she waited for her answer, but she rejoiced. A couple years later, I had my second daughter and she had her first son just four months apart. We've been together at the birth of all of our kids. She and her husband lived with us for a time, then the Lord provided a house just 0.8 miles down the street from our own. Our kids play and love on each other like siblings. Our front doors are always open. Meals have been shared countless times. Life has been lived together in the most blessed way I could ever ask for or imagine. </span></div>
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(PC: <a href="http://www.imkristen.com/">I'm Kristen</a>)</div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">God, looking through His eyes, had a plan that was bigger than we expected, it always is that way. He directs our steps and He knew I needed that sister down the street to be there to walk with us through life's happiest moments and deepest sorrows. If there has ever been a need she has done it or filled it. Our little boys were due just five days apart and while many have questioned how one could continue to walk as close as we have, all I can point to is God. The first and only thought I had walking out of that ultrasound office on April 6, 2014, aside from accepting the fact that my son was in the arms of Jesus, was a peace and a confidence that our boys and their stories would never be for naught and it was never going to be a wedge to separate us. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I don't just believe in the existence of God, I believe in a personal relationship with Him. A Great Redeemer, who always loves us perfectly, and when my heart and my flesh fail, He is my faithful strength. There are days when I struggle to see how that plan of redemption is going to work out. I doubt, I question, I ask why. Then I look at this little boy God brought and some of it makes sense. I see and I trust that God is going to give this boy a beautiful legacy to carry with him for the rest of his life. To me, just like my son, he is perfect in every way. </span></div>
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(PC: <a href="http://www.imkristen.com/">I'm Kristen</a>)</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After I started blogging again, I asked Becca, when AJ was born, to share the meaning behind his middle name. To testify to how God was at work, even in the deepest pit and darkest places. I hope it encourages you in the ways it has encouraged and reminded me how our little boy is celebrated and remembered through his life. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">AJ's Name </span></span></div>
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<i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My son didn’t have a name until he was thirty-six hours old. It </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">might have even taken longer if we weren’t so eager to leave the hospital and knew the newborn fog would make us forget to submit the appropriate paperwork. He didn’t have a name but he did have a middle name. He’d had a middle name since April.</span></i></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Janet and I’s friendship is hard to define and difficult to understand to some but it’s one of the sweetest gifts in my life. And it truly is a gift. It’s been obvious time and time again that the Lord created and has sustained this friendship through misunderstandings, through growing up and changes, through the hard days and the every day. When I miscarried our first teeny tiny babe far away in Oklahoma at only a few weeks she cried with me and stayed in bed all day like I did miles away. My hurts have often been lighter because she has shared carried them on her heart. She truly has been a friend who bears burdens. And in April, with her text on that <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_109685399" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">Monday</span></span>, her labor through that dark <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_109685400" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">Wednesday</span></span> and <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_109685401" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">Thursday</span></span> and watching her the last few months, I’ve tasted the slightest part of her grief and her pain. </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Compared to my firstborn, in utero this child’s movements were all hard, deliberate and strong. Where Behr would press his little rump out for rubs and bounce to music and seem to want Mama’s attention and affection, this baby jolted me awake or shocked me with his strength, time and time again. However aside from a few random movements I’m not sure I felt him move from getting the text that still haunts me on that<span class="aBn" data-term="goog_109685402" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">Monday</span></span> morning until our ultrasound hours later. (Because of course we had scheduled our appointments for the same day mere hours apart.) As he was measured and examined and we were told he was healthy and well, he moved and moved--and I felt it. My husband and I wept through most of the ultrasound. It felt so unimaginable to follow Janet and Seth’s footsteps into the same office with such a different outcome. Only a few weeks before I had been in a similar room with Janet watching her baby and then mine wiggle and kick and looking forward to finding out that evening together what gender they were. And as I lay there, seeing my son bounce, hearing the tech’s words, and holding my husband’s hand the name, “John” came to my mind and my heart and never left. It was not a name on our list and never a name I think we would have considered without Bobby.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>For reasons I don’t think we’ll know until heaven Bobby and my son “came from heaven” at the same time. God created them in Janet and I and gave them due dates only five days apart. That is not an accident and can only be planned by a Creator and Author of Life not two scheming best friends. They were connected in such a unique and amazing way even simply in their mothers’ hearts. And then God took Bobby back. When he was born, while the world stood still, while we wept over and over for hours in that hospital room, my son leapt. As if he knew. As if he was welcoming and releasing his friend. And he continued to leap for the next twenty plus weeks. As much as it confused and stabbed my heart there was no voice, no stimulation, or anything that generated a reaction like my best friend and I talking. He knew Janet’s voice uniquely. In the ways Behr responded to his dad’s voice and Audrey’s this child responded to Janet. Over and over all I could think as he jumped inside while Jan and I sat and talked about anything and everything, sober or insignificant conversations, was “John.”</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>John <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_109685403" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">1:41</span></span> “When Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the baby leaped in her womb.” -- John the Baptist and Jesus. Created at the same time. Sent with clear purpose. Each a reminder that God keeps His promises to His people and operates in ways that only He can understand. To be clear I am not saying that Bobby is Jesus or that my son is a second coming of John the Baptist. But I do believe that, even if it’s simply for our families and the lives they touch, that these two boys’ lives both have rich purpose here on earth to point back to heaven and the hope that we have there.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>There were many small mercies during the 24 hours Janet was at the hospital. Yet, unfortunately, there were many painful and harsh interactions on top of the circumstances for being there. Yet one of the moments where God was clearly present was a stranger who gave of his own time and with great intention to show love and compassion to both Bobby and his parents. Telling my husband about him in tears while wandering Wegman’s that week sealed the deal on our son’s middle name. That person’s name was John. I like to imagine that had our sons been allowed to grow up together here on earth that they would have had that sort of loyal, giving, compassionate character in their friendship. I can’t wait until they meet in heaven and the bond I know they would have had is displayed in real and perfect ways that I long that they would have had here.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Finally, John means “God has been gracious” or “Yahweh is gracious, giving bountifully.” I never could anticipated the end of this pregnancy when it started in December. My grief is not the same as Janet’s. But she is my sister. There’s a strange sort of grief in watching your friend hurt and there’s a strange sort of ache in longing for a child that wasn’t your own but that you anticipated nearly as much as your own. Walking out the rest of my pregnancy alone, watching my belly grow and noticing I was trying to suck it in when I walked in her house, wishing the leaps that were both so reassuring and yet so heart-breaking within my own womb were echoed in hers, and even now snuggling a newborn and waking up for middle of the night feedings with no one to text at <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_109685404" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">3am</span></span> all the random half-awake thoughts in my head, has had its own challenges for my faith and hope. There’s been days I’d rather stay in bed. There’s been nights of tears. And yet in the midst of her own grief and ache, as always, my best friend was and has been the greatest encouragement to my heart and soul. She repeatedly reminded me of the faithful goodness of God in created my son as well as Bobby. Her words and her genuine love for me and my son are a gift I cannot repay or really convey how much they have meant. She loves me and loves my son in ways that speak volumes of the greatness of God and His perfect love at work in her. “John” is a tribute to that. To the God that has given us this friendship as well as our sons.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Luke 1:78-79 Zechariah praising God for his son, John: "...because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace."</i></span></span></div>
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To read more of AJ's birth story and to see it all captured in pictures enjoy <a href="http://www.imkristen.com/2014/09/ajs-birth-story-maryland-birth.html">I'm Kristen's post</a>. </div>
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Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-82587856107529795922014-09-11T01:06:00.001-04:002014-09-11T01:10:24.090-04:00Endless Summer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I didn't post during the month of August. There was a sacredness to those days. A waiting, a longing for closure and as I counted down the days to my due date and the anticipation of <a href="http://www.imkristen.com/2014/09/bobbys-balloons.html">celebrating </a>Bobby's life I wrote a lot but wasn't ready to publish it for the watching world to read. The grief of those warm days of August has carried over to September and thoughts of "progress" have been thrown to the wayside. These are the days to grieve, to experience the emotions, to acknowledge the loss, and to trust that this process is going to help me move forward the rest of my days. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">August and September have brought closure and reopened wounds, joy and sadness collided <a href="http://www.imkristen.com/2014/09/ajs-birth-story-maryland-birth.html">in one holy labor room</a> when my best friend gave birth to AJ (the meaning of his name will be a post in and of itself because its a story I want people to hear). In so many ways, these milestones have thrown me back to the kind of grief I felt in those first two weeks. Where tears flow easily, where your life feels like its over, where sadness pierces your heart and the feeling that Bobby is missing is so acute. His best friend is here and he is not. The milestone days were always hard, but now it feels like he should be here in the day to day of our lives and he's not.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On the outside I appear more functional, more social, more happy, but on the inside, I'm still that same Mom who was crushed that second week of April and in the quiet, alone moments when its me in my bed with Bobby's very empty blanket the tears come and the sadness can't be pushed away. As darkness fills my room and the clock turns to another day at midnight I'm awake thinking of him and imagining what life would have been like with a tiny baby in my arms this September. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I poured myself a bowl of applesauce a few weeks ago. A normal enough thing to do at lunchtime, on that particular day it made me sad. Memories of being pregnant with Bobby flooded my mind as the first bite hit my palate. I craved it often and went through jars by the day. Call me silly, but I will never think of applesauce the same. Sadness often accompanies reminders, but it's a different thing to just be sad all the time. There are some days when the ache runs deeper into your body and your soul. The days where brushing your teeth takes an hour and getting your kid's diaper changed feels like an accomplishment that deserves a reward. Getting out of bed feels like you won an Olympic medal, but that's what we all do, everyday, right? And a shower, well, there are days between to wait for those. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Giving birth to your stillborn son. Sucks.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Losing your Dad, a month later, on Mother's Day with no last goodbye. Double sucks.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Struggling with depression on top of it all. Triple sucks.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">All of these things have changed me and are still changing me, every day. I will probably say it a thousand times, but its the truth: grief is a process. God made us all with senses: sight, smell, touch, taste, and hearing. The way those function within grief is a part of what changes you and exhausts you. Your body is on overdrive physically, emotionally, and spiritually at all times. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The sight of a bare closet that was once filled with clothes.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The smell of Seth's homemade French fries that made me want to hurl every time he cooked them when I was pregnant.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The touch of an empty blanket, saved for a baby who was wrapped in it months too soon.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The taste of Wegmans sushi, mint M&M's, Starbucks vanilla chai and Annie's granola bars recall the memories of those first two weeks in bed and were almost all I ate. The sadness those weeks is incomprable.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The sound of songs that move me to tears, everytime, "take me deeper than my feet could ever wander" "on Christ the solid rock I stand, the Rock won't move" "though you take from me I will bless your name."</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The list goes on. <br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">As I've said before, I'm not writing to illicit pity or cry "woe is me." I'm writing to share the forms grief takes in my life, it might look different for someone else. This is my personal journey, I'm opening up and sharing because if no one talks about it, it will only continue to feed the loneliness, isolation, and stigmas you feel when grief rocks your world. I'm writing so that people can be invited in to understand what this is like, so we can all love on the hurting better, not with judgement, not with expectation (you look great, shouldn't you be doing better by now?), but with the kind of compassion and mercy our Savior lived when he walked the earth.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">We are all mere mortals. Grief will find us all in this fallen, broken world. We all will meet our maker and come to our end. That natural order isn't always followed and some perish tragically. Not a sparrow falls apart from the will of the Father and I'll never understand on this earth, but he has me here and he's given me the courage to give my feelings words and to share them. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">This recently showed up on my Pinterest feed and I had to laugh at the foolishness of it.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I texted my friends and said: "Yeah, I wish that was my life." I agree we shouldn't spend our whole lives riddled with worry about all the what if's of life. Yet there are times when those seemingly imaginative worries become your reality. That's the world I'm living in, in the here and now.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The night before my ultrasound I told my best friend it would be a "relief to go in for my appointment to see him move." I didnt see him move. I saw a dead baby on the ultrasound screen and my life turned into a nightmare in an instant. Since then, "Janet, your baby isn't alive" has rung in my ears more times than I care to count. </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">When the phone rang on Mother's Day evening, I assumed it was my Dad calling me to leave a late message wishing me happy Mother's Day. When I saw the call come in, I mentioned to a friend who was visiting, "I hope my dad is ok." Instead, it was my uncle trying get in touch to let me know my Dad had passed, somewhat suddenly. The things we worry about can become our reality and completely change our lives in an instant. It doesn't change who I believe God is, but it's the reality of this fallen world. Death has taken people from me I love dearly. The aftermath is what has crushed me to the core and left me in the pit. Being crushed doesn't mean the God I believe in isn't there, it means in placing my trust in Him that He's tied himself to me and is with me. There isn't an answer in this life for the "why?" but our God is big enough to be asked. He cares about His children and wants us to come to Him. </span></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Psalm 23:4 promises that: "</span></span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for YOU ARE WITH ME; your rod and your staff, they comfort me."</span></span><span class="p" style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Trebuchet, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 13px; text-align: justify;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Life has changed, I've changed, my grief has taken turns and the missing goes on. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">In these times, grief wins and right now that's good. It's needed. Grief was made to be gone through and not around. The other day I finally decide that the facade is gone: that if I needed to cry I was going to cry, even if it was the grocery aisle at wegmans or the drive thru at chick fil a. Knowing </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">every tear is counted and not a sparrow falls apart from the will of our Father. Some day I'm gonna hear the number (probably something like 1,245,694) and everyone will be wiped away.</span>Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-56500240279256572772014-07-31T11:18:00.002-04:002014-07-31T11:18:50.410-04:00The Beauty of A Life. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSvOjXZEYc_0eUhdHolKeRQnOBLLnqN6gB9PMdJlVALAxZXNbdY2pDQ09vYwxf3k5RykrcfM6Sczj5LSlMNdM8fH8ynwibH5Np-hyyD8u0Zx_aWZdp5Te7xlHt5jj7LadCsQF_MJ7l6U/s1600/photo-9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSvOjXZEYc_0eUhdHolKeRQnOBLLnqN6gB9PMdJlVALAxZXNbdY2pDQ09vYwxf3k5RykrcfM6Sczj5LSlMNdM8fH8ynwibH5Np-hyyD8u0Zx_aWZdp5Te7xlHt5jj7LadCsQF_MJ7l6U/s1600/photo-9.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">On Wednesday, we went to visit Bobby. We stopped at Butlers Orchard so the girls could pick fresh flowers from their fields to take to him. It's one of my favorite things to do with them and even Edy, who's 2 1/2, knows "we go pick flowers for Bobby" and excitedly chooses every flower with care. We drove down to the market to pay and the girl checking me out commented on my bracelet I wear in memory of Bobby (I purchased it off of <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/CagedBirdBlog">Etsy </a>from a Mommy I had met through Instagram and I love it). The cashier commented on how much she liked it and I looked down forgetting I had chosen to wear it and fumbled with my words. I got a slow "thanks" out but didn't know what to say beyond that. Everything inside of me wanted to speak his name. To tell her about Bobby and why I wear it in memory of him. But I didn't. For a moment I felt stupid even wanting to talk of him. She had no idea what those flowers were for or why I wore that bracelet and I wish I had more courage to speak of the why behind it.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL58KUBJgaBOGN9c6oWBzBsPslei7eCLPuCFKrk7JaIxzNzHzqviKdaXoN_3M0pKLbAZnBu1C9lQWIXvZgG19OOgV7DsWCIYgcoA78AC6ZCk3CakoJCw_B_d0IMS7Vcr-AjbYn5fvxvqE/s1600/photo-8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL58KUBJgaBOGN9c6oWBzBsPslei7eCLPuCFKrk7JaIxzNzHzqviKdaXoN_3M0pKLbAZnBu1C9lQWIXvZgG19OOgV7DsWCIYgcoA78AC6ZCk3CakoJCw_B_d0IMS7Vcr-AjbYn5fvxvqE/s1600/photo-8.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A part of grief that I have had to overcome is fighting the lie that Bobby isn't seen as a life to begin with. I can feel awkward in those moments, like the one at checkout, especially when we live in a culture and political environment that results in heated debates about what life even is and when it begins. Not every one shares the same sentiments or convictions. This is a post that has weighed heavy on my heart. I've been hesitant to even share my thoughts and feelings on this side of my experience because I do not want to make my child's death a political issue or create a context that puts his life up for debate. I'm sharing my heart, because I'm Bobby's momma and I'm sharing to remember him because I believe every life, regardless of at what stage, matters.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Bobby was born when I would have been 21 weeks, what is medically considered an "unviable" stage, but he was an externally fully formed little boy and perfectly complete in ways I never expected. He was beautiful. I marveled while I wept and held his lifeless body in my arms. Before I knew he had died I felt him move, I knew him as a him, he knew the sound of my voice. Giving birth to a child that never cried or breathed their first breath and going home without a baby in my arms brings a diverse experience of grief and a feeling of loss.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The way our nurse treated us the day he was born made me feel like he wasn't a life. She was absent. Aloof. Neglectful. Disconnected. Uncaring. After he was born I was left sitting in my own blood and had to clean myself up. Ill never forget leaving bloody footprints on the floor on my way to the bathroom and having Seth catch me as I slipped in it while he held our lifeless boy in his arms, trying to calm me down while a string of profanities came rolling out my mouth. I couldn't believe what was happening and on such a day as this. He tried to comfort me and help me, but it was beyond anything I could ever comprehend. Our midwife changed the sheets and I assumed our nurse was busy, but I was her only patient. She just didn't want to deal with it. She never wrote up a crib card for him, wrapped him in a blanket, bathed him, offered to dress him, took hospital photos, and she never measured his length. I had to ask for his footprints twice and when she finally did it she told me she "would try her best but she might not be able to." We put him in her arms to do the footprints and she brought him back, covered in blankets, in a decorative box. In the moment I never knew what was happening was so wrong. It didn't feel right, but in my loss I couldn't process how awful it was until after the fact and sadly, these are just a few examples. The grief that she has added to our loss of Bobby is immense.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I won't allow someone's mistreatment of me and our son to shame me into silence. It only makes me want to raise my voice louder for those who have no voice. The truth is, that's easier to put in writing than to live out personally, but I'm trying. Bobby's story is much more than me sharing my grief. I share his story because life matters and a life such as Bobby's should be treated with dignity and respect. It's the very reason we buried him. It's why we speak his name and it's why I miss him every day. He was a life and it was lost.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I have always believed life matters at every stage, a child in utero is not a mass of cells. It is a child uniquely created by God to live the number of days He has ordained for them. Anyone making a "choice" about these things, at the very least, should understand that it's a heart beating, a living and moving being that is nourished, kept and protected inside their Mommy. When my son died, he died in the safety of my womb, with the comfort of my voice and the sound of my heart beating.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Experiencing the beauty of God's creation at this stage has only made me marvel more at the miracle that life is. As I said before, I have always believed in the sanctity of it, but having the opportunity to hold Bobby, at 21 weeks, to see his beautifully formed body, was a gift. The loss of his life was a tragedy, but I realized, what I held to be true wasn't just true as a vague conviction that I stood on and defended, it was a tangible experience of what I have always believed.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Bobby and his life will always be a part of our story and our family. He will always be spoken of in our home. He will always be celebrated on his birthday. His sisters will always know of him as their brother. I pray so much that God would do great things from these ashes and the story of his short life. That people's minds would be opened to the beauty of life that is set before us and the precious gift it is.</span></span>Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-81776268025678477482014-07-11T00:29:00.003-04:002014-07-11T00:29:27.421-04:00The Results. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim2vU2Tk05emxk_fKSxv5aVbSW3f_jGWPBiaX4Erwy26Q8kMSDgXlC2ZU1f4aks0yZMGxVFNgD_RGZaKnJTS3pHTjfQwcoQih1fRy8CSMM1WBu0zh2ZQRUYDC4wG_USqp0yIZcja3U4to/s1600/20140410_bobby_0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim2vU2Tk05emxk_fKSxv5aVbSW3f_jGWPBiaX4Erwy26Q8kMSDgXlC2ZU1f4aks0yZMGxVFNgD_RGZaKnJTS3pHTjfQwcoQih1fRy8CSMM1WBu0zh2ZQRUYDC4wG_USqp0yIZcja3U4to/s1600/20140410_bobby_0001.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">(PC: Peter Bang, Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222;">After losing Bobby, there's been so much to grieve, process, think about and educate myself on. So many questions were left without answers and when your child dies you just want to know why. I never wondered or thought I did something wrong, but to me there had to be a reason. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The day we found out Bobby died and some of the things that were said still haunt me in a way. But I also left there with a false sense of "reassurance" as to the why behind his death and a lack of understanding of what I was experiencing as a result of his death. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">My mind swirled with emotions that day we found out and sadness ultimately prevailed. Grieving for my boy took over and I didn't think to ask questions or even question what was said until recently. No one writes a book or hands you a manual on all the how to's of child loss. I get it. Its a book no one would want to buy and certainly not a pamphlet anyone would want to hand out to a grieving parent who just found out their baby died before they ever breathed earth's air. There were so many practicals to figure out: cremation or burial, </span></span><span style="color: #222222;">cemetery, what day to go in to be induced (they left that decision entirely up to me since my body wasn't going into labor), a mortuary to handle all of the funeral arrangements, packing a bag for a hospital stay, crying all the time, sleepless nights, brain fog, etc. Processing the deeper elements of all this fell to the wayside. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">It could be a peaceful quiet moment, a drive in the car, a trip to the store for one of these thoughts to pass through my mind:</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"Janet, I'm sorry, your baby isn't alive." </i>Worst thing in the world to ever hear. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><i>"It looks like he probably has a chromosomal abnormality, you're welcome to come back for genetic counseling." </i>No medical doctor should ever say that unless they have something to go off thats a </span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">surety. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><i>"It's a miscarriage and you're gonna go to the hospital to deliver the baby." </i>It wasn't a miscarriage. It was a death. My baby died. That never sat right with me. After doing the reading </span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">myself, a fetal death is defined as a stillbirth at my stage in my pregnancy. As hard as that was to realize, it was validating. Understanding also brings about healing. So many women came out of the woodwork talking of their miscarriages (and I am not saying that to demean any of them or their experience, the loss of a child is a loss. period.), but I never felt like I could fully relate and conversely so it felt wrong to put myself in the shoes of a mother who gave birth to a stillborn child at 36 weeks. But understanding the simple medical definition helped me know where I belonged and I didn't have to feel lost in the middle anymore. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">Moving beyond that, after a lot of back and forth we finally got the pathology report back a few weeks ago and it was devastating in a way. We had been following up and asking for answers on the status of it, but finally, after 10 weeks of waiting the news came. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">My phone rang at 7:53am and I knew it was the midwife calling. I knew exactly what she was calling for and I wasn't ready to face the news at that time of day. I barely get out of bed before 10am on even a good day and hearing the results that early was too much for me. Seth called a few hours later to let me know she got in touch with him about the pathology report results. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><i>Our little Bobby was completely healthy and normal in every way. He. Just. Died. </i></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">Punch to the gut. I don't even know what I said in response. It was one of those moments, almost out of a movie, where your ears ring and your mind goes to another place. It was so hard to hear he might have had a chromosomal abnormality, but the converse reality made me look to The Lord and beg "WHY?" Our perfectly healthy, completely wanted, and fully loved boy just died. No explanation. No reason. No answers. With the news brought another deeper wave of grief. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">Unfair. Wrong. Confused. Backwards. Messed up. God got this wrong. Shake my fist. Angry. All sorts of feelings emotions, tears, questions, and doubt. When I stop to think too much about it, I feel sick. My boy is gone and with him </span></span><span style="color: #222222;">went my dreams. Life felt perfect and in one single moment it was changed forever. </span><span style="color: #222222;">In any loss, in any grief, there is a wrestle that comes. If you don't wrestle you can't heal. You can't move forward. You have to face it. I knew I had to stare death in the face and to acknowledge the hurt I felt from it and what it took from me. I feel it every day. I also knew I was going to have to look to God and his Word and wrestle with my faith and what I said I believed all this time. This hurts like hell and missing your baby every day is the shittiest (sorry, but words like devastating, sad, wrong, etc don't really sum it up) reality. </span><span style="color: #222222;">I'm still wrestling. I'm still processing grief and I'm done calling this a "new normal" cause this awful place is anything but normal. Every single day is a reminder of that. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Last week, my best friend, Becca and I, grocery shopped together at Wegmans. Our three kids squished into the race car cart made shopping a breeze after a quick pit stop at the bull candy aisle. We found the shortest aisle at checkout and started loading our items up onto the belt. A familiar face turned around in front of us. It was Becca's parents neighbor. She commented on Beccas growing belly and how cute Her little boy Behr was. She politely greeted me and introduced herself, looked at the cart and commented on me having two kids. I calmly replied with a "yeah" but as my necklace jingled as I put my stuff on the belt I felt like I was telling a lie. Knowing she had lost her daughter too I knew if I explained that actually I am the mother of 3 children she would have understood. But who really wants to have a moment like that with the cashier awkwardly looking on, as I talk about delivering my still born little boy at 21 weeks. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">On our way out we ran into another mom from church who enthusiastically greeted us asking us both how were doing. Becca answered first and I think I probably mumbled "doing ok" still trying to catch my breath from the interaction at the register. Nothing is ok or good about what this is right now and when you're grieving there is this lie that I feel like I sometimes buy into that I need to make everyone think I'm fine and good when I go out in public and look put together. And my gosh, you don't want to just word vomit the truest answer on someone who just wants to carry on with their grocery shopping. Sometimes I wish I could be blunt enough as wearing at shirt that says "my baby died" so at least people would know why it's a miracle I got dressed at all, let alone made it out of the house. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Loss hurts in the most unexpected ways sometimes. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222;">Today, it was in our pediatricians office on the way out. The age old question of "How many kids do you have?" never stung SO bad. It being the 3 month mark and Thursday Bobby has been on my mind, and I just blurted out "3." It was one of those moments where you say it and you can't take it back. I then went on to explain that one of our babies died recently as I am looking down at this perfect tiny, week old baby girl, feeling like a total kill joy. "Im so happy for you, enjoy every minute, she's beautiful" is all I could say to recover from that moment. </span><span style="color: #222222;">Ugh. It was awful. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I don't know what it's going to look like to answer that question moving forward. When you lose a child all you want is for their life to be remembered, cherished and celebrated. Grief makes people clumsy and I don't fault anyone for asking me how I'm doing, but it's ok to speak Bobby's name. I love to hear it. If you know I am a Mom of 3 it's ok to say that out loud, because Bobby will always be counted as one of my own. It's ok to say I'm praying for you without it being awkward. I'm carried by those prayers. It's ok to say I'm thinking of you because it feels like Bobby is remembered and not forgotten. It's ok to share in our grief because there's more than enough to go around and I am sharing his story so that people can know what grief is and what it does to your life and how it rocks you. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I've be listening to a song on repeat recently from Needtobreathe and its been a simple profound truth thats kept me going. His love has surely found us. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="text-align: center;">Your love will surely come find us</span><br style="border: 0px none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;" /><span style="text-align: center;">Like blazing wild fires singing Your name</span></i></span><br />
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: center;">God of mercy sweet love of mine</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span><span style="text-align: center;">I have surrendered to Your design</span><br style="border: 0px none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;" /><span style="text-align: center;">May this offering stretch across the skies</span><br style="border: 0px none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;" /><span style="text-align: center;">And these Halleluiahs be multiplied</span></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Bobby bear goes for his first swim.)</span></div>
</span></span>Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-86175869770788886522014-06-25T22:45:00.000-04:002014-08-21T18:05:51.483-04:00Our "New Normal."<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I haven't written in awhile frankly because words have slipped through my mind like sand and they've come faster than I could even type. Part of it too, feels like what I'm saying over and over again is just beating the dead horse and it's hard to not feel like people are just done hearing about how I miss my baby and how I keep asking God "why?" Sometimes too, I just don't want to talk because it's too much to relive. Even "new normal" feels like a joke because nothing about this and our daily life feels anything close to "normal." I get out of the house, I look put together, but I don't feel any better, maybe just more functional. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">Grief still has no fix it's. No solutions. No timetable. No problem solver that's a cure all for the sadness that greets me each day when I think I'm going to wake up from this bad dream and it's all gonna be over with. Some think that if you just look at all the good in your life that will somehow overcome the loss. That's a lie. I look at my kids and thank God for the gift they are, for my husband who loves me in the most sacrificial way, for the many blessings we have, all of those point to the love God has for me, but that can never bring my Bobby back from the grave. I can never move on in my life without Bobby, even if he isn't physically present, for now we are a family of five. Grief makes people so uncomfortable, but the irony is that grief will inevitably find all of us. We all die, some tragically, our days our numbered, this world is fallen, and it hurts. </span></span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The feelings are still coming out raw and the sadness I feel about the loss of Bobby still takes my breath away. Daily life still brings reminders of the nightmare we're living. Recently, it was doing my laundry and finding three pairs of maternity pants and the outfit I wore the day I came home from the hospital without Bobby. It was in the kitchen when I was making lunch on Father's Day and I looked down at something I dropped on the floor. The reality that I could see my feet and bend nimbly to pick it up was crushing. It was the family I saw in Target, a beautiful family of five: two girls and a tiny baby boy. It was the bill that came in the mail for the "you're baby isn't alive" anatomy scan. I wish I wasn't here right now. I wish I could make the sadness leave. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">The closer I get to August the heavier the grief feels. I didn't expect that. For some reason I thought experiencing his death, saying my final goodbye, and my due date would be the hardest part and in the meantime life would just go on. The adrenaline has worn off and in so many ways the rubber has met the road. This is my life and I have to go on, one day at a time. Instead of counting down the weeks until I get to hold my boy, I'm counting down the weeks since I held my boy in my arms. It's backwards. It's broken. And it's a mess that only Jesus can bring beauty out of. </span></span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">Grief is a friend too. To deny it, is to deny yourself the healing you need to move forward. Loss is meant to be grieved. Some days its good to stare death in the face and remember that loss hurts and it changes your life forever. A trusted counselor reminded me that this is a process, I'm in transition, that I'm never going to be who I was before and I'm not yet who I'm going to be "after the storm." Reminders like that help on the days that I just want to pull the covers over my head and wave the flag of defeat. Defeat is something I feel and face every day. My hope and faith in Jesus are all I have to overcome it. When darkness seems to hide His face, faith, even as small as a mustard seed is something of worth to my God. Great faith can be small. God promises to not crush the bruised reed. He promises to be faithful even when I'm faithless. He promises to never leave me or forsake me. These are the promises I cling to when I want to give up and when I can't stop asking "why oh Lord?"</span></span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">It's not a matter of being lifted out of the pit, it's a matter of lifting you're eyes in the pit to the one who knows your suffering and gives a purpose for your pain. Some days all I can do is lift my eyes and that's what his word talks of time and time again. I still don't understand why he hasn't lifted me out, but I'm here and there's nothing in my power I can do to change it. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">Bobby, you are remembered and missed every day. It comforts me to know you will always be my boy. You died in the safety of my womb, you <i>knew</i> my voice, and the sound of my heart beating. You will always be a part of me. </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm in this pit because I'm your Momma and I love you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span>Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-68300569943719149172014-05-27T11:09:00.002-04:002014-05-27T11:17:15.066-04:00A Dream is A Wish Your Heart Makes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">"No matter how your heart is grieving if you keep on believing..." - <i>Cinderella </i></span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Disney speaks to my heart sometimes and it's probably because I love it so much. </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">We had a dream. A wish. And a plan. Disney as a family in 2015, with a squishy little boy who could camp out in the stroller or sleep in the Ergo the whole time. I'm super practical and 6 months seemed like the perfect age to take him. I didn't want to go pregnant, I didn't want to go with a newborn, and we wanted to go before Edith turned 3 to save money on park tickets. So we narrowed it down to a week in February/March, I did all my research, picked our top 3 resort hotels, and I started saving towards an ambitious goal to make those dreams a reality. </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Ever since our trip in April 2013 not a day has passed that Audrey has not asked when "are we going back" and prayed many prayers "that daddy would sell a lot of paintings so we could go to Disney world." Some people might think it crazy: huge crowds, long lines, humid heat, and crying kids. For me and our family, Disney is a place with the happiest of memories, where heaven touches earth, and the time we have as a family there is priceless. I get teary eyed during the fireworks show in front of Cinderella's castle and before we lost Bobby, I wasn't a crier. </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">I hope that Bobby knows its one of his Mommy's favorite places on earth. I hope </span><a href="http://www.wearethefamilymorris.com/wearethefamilymorris/2014/1/6/post-39-the-best-vacation-of-our-lives" style="color: #222222;">Mama Bear</a><span style="color: #222222;"> (she and I share a similar deep love of all things Disney and the way she raised her kids with that love for the magic is the same vision I have for raising ours) has already taken him on Small world, introduced him to Mickey, and walked down Main Street to the sound of the singing barbershop quartet with Cinderella's castle in view. I hope some day when I get to be with him in heaven I can can experience all those things with him too. </span></span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The closest I've come to a "fix it" (and I know it truly isn't) solution to all this sadness is getting on a plane and flying there as a family. That's how much I love it. It fills a place in my heart that few things can and seeing the sheer wonder in my girls eyes when they step foot in the parks is like nothing else I've experienced with them. It's magical in a way and you can't help but be swept up in the joy of it all.</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">When we found out about Bobby, those dreams were put off and money that was set aside for our trip went towards making a different kind of place for our Bobby to be laid to rest. God provided for us in huge ways in that, but needless to say, the whole financial aspect for us has felt like another burden was added. The financial cares of medical bills and burying a child are the worst kind of reminders of this reality we live in. At moments it's hard to not feel crippled by the sheer weight of it. 4 weeks to the day, the hospital bill came in the mail and it felt like a bad joke. Thankfully, that bill was covered by the hospital (a whole story for another time as to why). </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Our dreams are put on hold and our seemingly "perfect" plans have come crashing down on every front. Losing Bobby has brought so much sadness, but it's a life that we didn't get to have with him that I grieve for too. Sharing my favorite place with my boy was something I longed to do and I had no doubt he would have loved Disney just as much as his Mommy and sisters.</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">About 4 weeks ago a package came to our doorstep from one of my dearest friends. Inside were the most perfect little mouse ears and embroidered on the back was his name. There aren't words for a gift like that. Not only did it bless me because he was remembered, it brought tears to my eyes because whenever we go, he will be a part of it. I told Seth I would proudly wear those ears the whole time were there. </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I love Disney and I long to go, but I follow and trust in a Savior who's plans are better than mine. I don't understand why I don't get to take my little boy with me, I don't understand why He made Bobby the way he did, I don't understand why He took him when he did, but I know He's good. I wish our dreams were becoming a reality when I wanted them to be, but no matter what my dreams may be Gods plans are always better. It sucks. It hurts. It's hard to reconcile it all in my mind and there's pain that won't go away, but somehow it's gonna all work out. I can't wait to see that unfold, I can't wait to tell that story of God's faithfulness on the other side, I can't wait to hold Bobby again. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">For now, I hold fast to the promises God has made in his word even if they don't always make sense to me every day. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I know he hears our prayers and I know He knows the desires of this Mama's broken heart. I believe, with confidence, He will make a way for us to go. To have that time at Disney as a family to remember and celebrate our little boys life. When we do go, I know I will have that experience as a Mom to 3 beautiful children even if Bobby only comes with me in my heart. </span>Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-52673823626692199842014-05-19T12:06:00.002-04:002014-05-19T12:06:59.991-04:00When Grief is Unreal. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>(My girls playing in our front yard, having a tea party, with "Bobby Bear." One of the sweetest gifts and reminders that even though Bobby is absent from us, his memory will always be a part of us and in a way, he is with us. Moments like this and when reminders of him come in this way it brings tears to my eyes.) </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">I'm pretty sure whoever said "God doesn't give you more than you can handle" was wrong. It's a trite phrase that "sounds right," but doesn't bring any sort of comfort to someone who, in the moment, is feeling overwhelmed with grief. I'm talking about the kind of experience the psalmist wrote about: "Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and your waves have gone over me." This is where I find myself. My Dad died this past week, on Mother's Day, and the wave of grief, that follows death is one that hits you hard. It knocks you off your feet, leaves you stunned and completely at a loss for words. The timing feels unreal. First my son and now my Dad. It's a lot. From the outside looking in it feels like a tsunami hit our lives and I'm clinging to Jesus, watching my world wash out to sea. If there was a category to put all this heaviness, I'm pretty sure it would be flooded. God does give you more than you can handle and it's why I need him. I can't carry all this heaviness and loss and I certainly can't understand it without Him. </span></span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Summer is coming soon and it has always been one of my favorite times of the year. Long warm sunny days, pool play dates, ice cream at Jimmie cone, beach trips, and the list goes on. It's one of the most anticipated seasons for our family and one where so many memories are made. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm not looking forward to summer this year, as sad as that is for me to say. Instead of counting down the days to my due date, nesting inside to stay cool, complaining of cankles, and picking berries at Butlers with a huge belly, I'll be remembering my little boy and grieving his loss that still feels so fresh. Instead of calling my Dad on Father's Day, I'll be planning a family gathering to honor him and spread his ashes.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The heat and humidity won't bother me so much, I won't be nearly as short of breath, and that prize of holding my boy won't be waiting for me in August. These reminders hurt and it makes me realize how much death stings. I still miss Bobby. I'm still sad that this is my life. I'm still holding onto hope that this is gonna work out even though this won't be a summer of dreams fulfilled. </span><br /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Bobby's life matters because there's real life, "this is hard", "life sucks", "I can't see the light in the darkness" kind of faith to be lived out for the glory of God. I'm often writing this story when I'm watching the sun rise on a sleepless night, when the tears seem to come in the place of words, when God feels most distant and I need to remember the hope I have as much as I need to remember Bobby's life. God's plan for my life and Bobby's are bigger than ourselves. Trusting in Christ doesn't mean the road is easy and all your troubles go away. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Losing a child and then a father, especially this way, can feel cruel.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> In spite of how it feels, I know my Savior knew what it was like to be forsaken so I wouldn't ever have to be forsaken in my darkest night. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I know my Savior is "a man of sorrows" and "acquainted with grief." </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I know my Savior cries with me because he lived in the flesh, he knew humanity, he was "deeply troubled in his spirit" and he wept with Lazarus' family. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">In the grief of death, my Savior's response wasn't to teach and wasn't to fix it, he was there to come alongside the hurting and to cry with them. He is here with us. We are not alone. I have felt that in every card written, every meal made, every bathroom cleaned, and every flower </span></span><span style="color: #222222;">arrangement sent. We have been loved on in the ways our Savior would have when he walked the earth. We have felt this outpouring in ways we never could have expected and we are often speechless at the kindness we have been shown. This dark place would feel even darker if it weren't for so many who are simply walking alongside us, remembering our Bobby, praying for us and helping us with so many practical needs so we can simply grieve. </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">All the way my Savior leads me;</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> What have I to ask beside?</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Can I doubt His tender mercy,</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> Who through life has been my Guide?</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Heav’nly peace, divinest comfort,</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> Here by faith in Him to dwell!</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">For I know, whate’er befall me,</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> Jesus doeth all things well.</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">All the way my Savior leads me,</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> Cheers each winding path I tread,</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Gives me grace for every trial,</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> Feeds me with the living bread.</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Though my weary steps may falter,</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> And my soul athirst may be,</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Gushing from the Rock before me,</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> Lo! a spring of joy I see.</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">All the way my Savior leads me;</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> Oh, the fullness of His grace!</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Perfect rest to me is promised</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> In my Father’s blest embrace.</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">When my spirit, clothed immortal,</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> Wings its flight to realms of day,</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">This my song through endless ages:</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> Jesus led me all the way.</span></i></span>Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-29646868995054496602014-05-07T22:20:00.001-04:002014-05-07T22:22:04.904-04:00One Month Later<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC0GrkziwQODFzwKAMossB4QZPxdbs4ZmOIC2M1HamqkzlNJyL8vXIrHVzWSNdGQRHD43F50mOZ8VxZJm8OzL9K5laAqooGOEm4QIvUA_dT2U2A9ebFwcf7ls6jA8IPHjVaqdj1ToKClA/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC0GrkziwQODFzwKAMossB4QZPxdbs4ZmOIC2M1HamqkzlNJyL8vXIrHVzWSNdGQRHD43F50mOZ8VxZJm8OzL9K5laAqooGOEm4QIvUA_dT2U2A9ebFwcf7ls6jA8IPHjVaqdj1ToKClA/s1600/photo.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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(Me & my girls visiting Bobby last week. It was my first visit.)</div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I feel like a stripped down version of myself, rubbed against sand paper, my thoughts and feelings still coming out very raw. It's been a month since we found out that Bobby died and just a few days shy of his birthday. I've experienced all the after affects of having a baby, but no baby. My milk came and went, hot flashes, night sweats, and sleepless nights. It's funny because looking back on this month, it's with similar feelings and experiences of the newborn stage. The thought of "where did the time go?", "How has it been a month already?" Instead of sitting in a doctors office for a 4 week well visit, I'm sitting in a waiting room at a grief counselors office just across the street from our pediatrician. Life can feel ironic at times.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I went into my sonogram appointment on April 7 and literally came out a different person at the end of the day on April 10. My wandering, anxious thoughts turned into a nightmare of a reality. I miss what life was like before our loss. I miss laughing without wanting to cry after because I think of Bobby and his absence from our lives. I miss enjoying people, rather than just wanting to be alone. I miss looking forward to things and the anticipation of his arrival. The planning, the projects, the dreaming of our future. I miss the innocence of those days, the beautiful simplicity of them. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Grief was made to be experienced and felt, it's a process, it takes time. Here I am. A month later. Unfortunately, it still sucks. I still cry a lot. I still miss my baby. I still have moments throughout the day when it feels like my life is over. I didn't expect to be better by now, but I guess I expected some progress and a lot of days it's hard for me to see. This is hell. But I'm fighting. I'm taking steps to move forward, to heal and to grieve. Although it's discouraging, the slow goings of this remind me that grief doesn't work on a timetable, I can't will myself to get over this loss, and there are still big things to put behind me.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This week I took steps forward in the darkness and although it never would have been a big deal in my world before, it is now.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I had my first session with an amazing grief counselor. We talked a lot about that first week, how its changed me, and how to live life in my "new normal." I left feeling truly helped and cared for. Having a safe place like that to go is so huge for me right now. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I contacted the nurse manager at the hospital to discuss the details of my awful nurse experience on the day Bobby was born. Unfortunately, some of the things she did that day have only added to my grief. Although it's painful to talk about I know it will help me move forward. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We all went out for a family lunch even though there are reminders everywhere when you leave the house. There's no preparing for them. In a lot of ways it's like stepping on a land mine. You step on it. Hear it click. You walk away and it blows up in your face. On this outing, it was a newborn cry in the photo studio on my way to the bathroom in what I thought was a safe place of JC Penney. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I checked the mail, even though I find reminders there too. Bobby's crib card came and that brought on a whole onslaught of feelings and emotions. I'm so glad to have those things of his to keep, but it's the sad reminder that I left the hospital with no baby in my arms.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We visited Seth at work and spent the morning at Ikea with friends. By some miracle, we made it out the door by 10:15am with 3 kids, snacks and sippy cups. When we get there to unload I realized that I left my purse at home and have no wallet. Thank Jesus for generous friends to cover your tail, but even the most obvious things don't cross my mind these days. I know these things happen to every Mom on any given day, but the obvious things seem to be smacking me in the face more often than before. Even being there was hard, I wanted to go, but hated the reason. I got prints done of Bobby to hang around the house and Ikea is one of the best place to find frames, kids eat free on Tuesdays, so I did it. It was a hard feeling to shake during our time there and another reminder of how life has changed. Things that would have been fun before bring on feelings of sadness now. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I don't share my life or Bobby's story to illicit pity or to try to be a hero. I don't see myself as amazing or my suffering as spectacular. I don't see this trial as a reason to put myself on a pedestal, to elevate myself, and cry "woe is me." In a lot of ways, there are others who have suffered far greater losses. This is my life and I share it because I hope it can be a means for others to understand what it's like to walk through hell and come out on the other side. To show what its like to be weak, but to be held up by the strength that comes from Jesus. I don't have it all figured out. I struggle to believe sometimes. But my life and this story is authored by Jesus. He bought me. He owns me. He is the one who keeps me. He's engraved me on the palms of his hands and I know he is the one who is carrying me through my darkest night.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Nancy Guthrie's writings have been a huge source of help to me in this time. I had to share this quote from one of her books because it spoke to me and its the truth:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"God does not discount or dismiss your tears. They are precious to him because you are precious to him. In fact, when God reveals glimpses of the culmination of human history--in a future that will fully reveal and be fully worthy of his glory--he includes, as a centerpiece, this promise in Isaiah 25:8 'The sovereign Lord will wipe away all tears.' Picture in your mind right now the Lord of the universe reaching down to gently and lovingly wipe away your tears. He doesn't ignore them or tell you that if you really had faith you wouldn't cry. He wipes them away. And Revelation 21:4 tells us that not only will he wipe away tears, he will remove all of the sorrow that caused them. God's plan for the future is to destroy forever the evil that has brought you so much pain and then to live forever with you in a place he has lovingly prepared where there will be no more tears."</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I can't wait for that place with no more sadness or pain or loss. I can't wait for all of the tears to be wiped away. I wake up ever day with a deeper longing for heaven than the day before. </span>Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-46314287103094838862014-04-29T23:57:00.001-04:002014-04-30T00:13:50.788-04:00Bobby's Story in Pictures.<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="text-align: center;">In Memory of Bobby, who has changed our lives forever. </span></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="text-align: center;">You call me out upon the waters</span></i></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzqYP-XLzewMwJ3oHU5Dy7mnqAzU1c17IfSvxgOGu_2CMiIjctmRRfG0_npMRN_0bjVItj5LhPiBP2sQ15W2X9WYjjCHE9ccwwtV4XGW9tdu4aAnZYe54t-UgLSY4NOqkyUkPFek11UqE/s1600/BabyBoy-8-3188782449-O.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzqYP-XLzewMwJ3oHU5Dy7mnqAzU1c17IfSvxgOGu_2CMiIjctmRRfG0_npMRN_0bjVItj5LhPiBP2sQ15W2X9WYjjCHE9ccwwtV4XGW9tdu4aAnZYe54t-UgLSY4NOqkyUkPFek11UqE/s1600/BabyBoy-8-3188782449-O.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="text-align: center;">The great unknown where feet may fail</span></i></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_XMZ3zKn9BvFS-WqRC9kX4njII_iQeDA9VOxzMGomvRFCo8Zl_QMZ_b4TdVCVoNyB3g4uCbn7t-_OuEui2hNmp2C3w6WdEtx67GvSlIDodR6iZzogdMCQb0sms9ZcXj1NjPy8MxruwU/s1600/BabyBoy-37-3188781642-O.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_XMZ3zKn9BvFS-WqRC9kX4njII_iQeDA9VOxzMGomvRFCo8Zl_QMZ_b4TdVCVoNyB3g4uCbn7t-_OuEui2hNmp2C3w6WdEtx67GvSlIDodR6iZzogdMCQb0sms9ZcXj1NjPy8MxruwU/s1600/BabyBoy-37-3188781642-O.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="text-align: center;">And there I find You in the mystery</span></i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7NqaTpRk2fo_fM14iqaCeTcTNlOpIw9Goj72AcjX_QPI3RXA7STTxeVfX9_GFj1lRbPODpAGWb9PWc3TxKpfXv5ypd9TkWCoWIA7Jpb35l32d4hey8x-ZuN2juzTwgx9w8bn9qWixv2I/s1600/BabyBoy-39-3188781599-O.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7NqaTpRk2fo_fM14iqaCeTcTNlOpIw9Goj72AcjX_QPI3RXA7STTxeVfX9_GFj1lRbPODpAGWb9PWc3TxKpfXv5ypd9TkWCoWIA7Jpb35l32d4hey8x-ZuN2juzTwgx9w8bn9qWixv2I/s1600/BabyBoy-39-3188781599-O.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In oceans deep</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC2G13XuTJGLlAnP3qaxgud9DxLQmMvZQtpe3YziaLx1bEexrkOZTdUaSWziKhpx3zN-qtkrK7V59d7PPbdOUqp1Z-2R-uFiae40lzTm1jqtWcslmYVfvow8Z7bx8KDjWbUH_BNjsNwcY/s1600/BabyBoy-35-3188781687-O.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC2G13XuTJGLlAnP3qaxgud9DxLQmMvZQtpe3YziaLx1bEexrkOZTdUaSWziKhpx3zN-qtkrK7V59d7PPbdOUqp1Z-2R-uFiae40lzTm1jqtWcslmYVfvow8Z7bx8KDjWbUH_BNjsNwcY/s1600/BabyBoy-35-3188781687-O.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="text-align: center;">My faith will stand</span></i></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGF14v-42yV1UDrlJtEOFMAHjHw8nyglx1kQvlLojlntoF3_N5KZJTu2rnlf8gq8vF6w5td4qr72bFrIyTextYsubdaVqzre57zcOt0fkC_hTksbB0stpl7Ep6ZRn4MXJ7l4nyOd8cXUs/s1600/BabyBoy-48-3188781302-O.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGF14v-42yV1UDrlJtEOFMAHjHw8nyglx1kQvlLojlntoF3_N5KZJTu2rnlf8gq8vF6w5td4qr72bFrIyTextYsubdaVqzre57zcOt0fkC_hTksbB0stpl7Ep6ZRn4MXJ7l4nyOd8cXUs/s1600/BabyBoy-48-3188781302-O.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
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<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>And I will call upon Your name</i></i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOchuXhh7m_mJiUjnvw1NYd60nj70qmt7B5RbmvYx9ZEy9j9-aoJkeu6SCTV1dX5lmfxeIy3PXQby6lebHi4-S0JPCzH2XfwI72tXPODgiiMdWdQYUu77Y5hrQPP1WbftOODXsiveehd0/s1600/BabyBoy-28-3188781896-O.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOchuXhh7m_mJiUjnvw1NYd60nj70qmt7B5RbmvYx9ZEy9j9-aoJkeu6SCTV1dX5lmfxeIy3PXQby6lebHi4-S0JPCzH2XfwI72tXPODgiiMdWdQYUu77Y5hrQPP1WbftOODXsiveehd0/s1600/BabyBoy-28-3188781896-O.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="text-align: center;">And keep my eyes above the waves</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></i></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzmzznNj-TFfoWFRYAeZ8oAhJkxjGIMig0A5ozQw9kwcGzbvcSQNCTholUhlLAkDbp6cKobOF42dgGg0Uf7XqiLBecGfKMh90uRPE6ZFdRLxkUUIlLfLv0dGDIxkPfFsZlK_OFBhO1OM0/s1600/BabyBoy-58-3188781002-O.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzmzznNj-TFfoWFRYAeZ8oAhJkxjGIMig0A5ozQw9kwcGzbvcSQNCTholUhlLAkDbp6cKobOF42dgGg0Uf7XqiLBecGfKMh90uRPE6ZFdRLxkUUIlLfLv0dGDIxkPfFsZlK_OFBhO1OM0/s1600/BabyBoy-58-3188781002-O.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="text-align: center;">When oceans rise</span></i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpSTjq_7xYTzueQVXjW3OI1XlJ3j2mFRrcWorX-wJWJhTQ0erLHeSDCE3Y5ghQBRhtOXjZE4kRWkRWDcvIAtL-9wJRGkb6hJo2oYpYN4mo4HUVTOdNlP34MmLWHEGOf1h7fydBFuDK_gM/s1600/BabyBoy-79-3188780387-O.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpSTjq_7xYTzueQVXjW3OI1XlJ3j2mFRrcWorX-wJWJhTQ0erLHeSDCE3Y5ghQBRhtOXjZE4kRWkRWDcvIAtL-9wJRGkb6hJo2oYpYN4mo4HUVTOdNlP34MmLWHEGOf1h7fydBFuDK_gM/s1600/BabyBoy-79-3188780387-O.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="text-align: center;">My soul will rest in Your embrace</span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></i></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgij_YTGN-gBX7cjGQdfyTAoscyUkc4c9njNOWTq8NFCBJ93EReqbm5ehFOSCWRrmI53xk5yezV1ZTjTloj04ezLLR_HOY1gnN1Pyxr6KydekTlGYA3y0LbOcUFMkpW9S8WUs73Xu6sRS4/s1600/BabyBoy-27-3188781931-O.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgij_YTGN-gBX7cjGQdfyTAoscyUkc4c9njNOWTq8NFCBJ93EReqbm5ehFOSCWRrmI53xk5yezV1ZTjTloj04ezLLR_HOY1gnN1Pyxr6KydekTlGYA3y0LbOcUFMkpW9S8WUs73Xu6sRS4/s1600/BabyBoy-27-3188781931-O.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="text-align: center;">For I am Yours and You are mine</span></i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXDdCA2Jr3W-HgnmLSzirZOUSpRAmE4nmajUqcYKjhT7dp0NQ5yfC0uIFuvYFAnjdZb_bzPWxqaAyBvZKHTcxb-dITUkCt0G65lzc_xLWWb04aTCijwIA-9azr1tX_7vM72tAU-loCU0U/s1600/BabyBoy-84-3188780248-O.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXDdCA2Jr3W-HgnmLSzirZOUSpRAmE4nmajUqcYKjhT7dp0NQ5yfC0uIFuvYFAnjdZb_bzPWxqaAyBvZKHTcxb-dITUkCt0G65lzc_xLWWb04aTCijwIA-9azr1tX_7vM72tAU-loCU0U/s1600/BabyBoy-84-3188780248-O.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>
<span style="text-align: center;"></span></i></span></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="text-align: center;"><i>Your grace abounds in deepest waters</i></span></i></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></span></i></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsbvR-J0xW9fIlvQTN-0-whdlmJgE1B6SSVmj6Owh7C6MFRmVfNz1mnYIRSuDT62l2JlDCH_iuIu3PR5XrYdw8sU23NcXc3tPWKKWPom8KU74mWJ5ptzRqt6axS58M7JX2DPuySSouB-U/s1600/Bobby-15-3188779749-O.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsbvR-J0xW9fIlvQTN-0-whdlmJgE1B6SSVmj6Owh7C6MFRmVfNz1mnYIRSuDT62l2JlDCH_iuIu3PR5XrYdw8sU23NcXc3tPWKKWPom8KU74mWJ5ptzRqt6axS58M7JX2DPuySSouB-U/s1600/Bobby-15-3188779749-O.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Your sovereign hand</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqb2T3OqqHGD40Ti9sgNaSIwdRN7Ni1YDrN0VHv7iT1YulEvlDV1E6-PR4YOxqIitCBuYqKPGdi5ADuIr5RCll-R13DurfWtYLoKktYjw4SFXiWHeWv6fQ92v4UeJeU51CJURZGwTgsMw/s1600/20140410_bobby_0012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqb2T3OqqHGD40Ti9sgNaSIwdRN7Ni1YDrN0VHv7iT1YulEvlDV1E6-PR4YOxqIitCBuYqKPGdi5ADuIr5RCll-R13DurfWtYLoKktYjw4SFXiWHeWv6fQ92v4UeJeU51CJURZGwTgsMw/s1600/20140410_bobby_0012.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">Will be my guide</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></i></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4aeXXjwwAmGf4tHihy-nY1MNWgt8M2hEp7gIVN8CYuAwPsIJO4qkbnTS1uQ2E2ep1o3ti5KrUbwbAyBaVbcRQqh93ddTQn6Zk-MEnNxLuCAtId0pDIyDj0c8X4frNbJW2v5-1UqjBf1c/s1600/Bobby-56-3188778262-O.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4aeXXjwwAmGf4tHihy-nY1MNWgt8M2hEp7gIVN8CYuAwPsIJO4qkbnTS1uQ2E2ep1o3ti5KrUbwbAyBaVbcRQqh93ddTQn6Zk-MEnNxLuCAtId0pDIyDj0c8X4frNbJW2v5-1UqjBf1c/s1600/Bobby-56-3188778262-O.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="text-align: center;">Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me</span></i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcpRaV2v182eI5YxDIY1oO4tE2hVQbZ_tEr16MhOQ1XWAGhcsVsrczV3O_f8fEM75uHoaiXVpRFBz2mX6UsGZeuMuTUBhiGJLM7Ipfy5enGiuHUb1N9jpPE3QdGrIolyyvSobMdYIoq-Q/s1600/Bobby-37-3188778956-O.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcpRaV2v182eI5YxDIY1oO4tE2hVQbZ_tEr16MhOQ1XWAGhcsVsrczV3O_f8fEM75uHoaiXVpRFBz2mX6UsGZeuMuTUBhiGJLM7Ipfy5enGiuHUb1N9jpPE3QdGrIolyyvSobMdYIoq-Q/s1600/Bobby-37-3188778956-O.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You've never failed and You won't start now</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixZJyiARk3ov4-E1pvkPBJe5yx8bJ50Ojci_n1Gu5xpCNS6_UVvpCVixxDb2_JW7ghDsrvtCistB_wyVq3h3zy5u2Ij2ZWolsIjhof-h5UGqfwx9GvG6pGPkWxvV5syKBCAi-m0EO1du4/s1600/20140410_bobby_0033.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixZJyiARk3ov4-E1pvkPBJe5yx8bJ50Ojci_n1Gu5xpCNS6_UVvpCVixxDb2_JW7ghDsrvtCistB_wyVq3h3zy5u2Ij2ZWolsIjhof-h5UGqfwx9GvG6pGPkWxvV5syKBCAi-m0EO1du4/s1600/20140410_bobby_0033.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i></i></span></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><br /></i></i>
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>So I will call upon Your name</i></i><br />
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><br /></i></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXsiqr-rKJAlyC3kMLkrnsWqK_QWcU2Rjp6RCj-A12R1RX6AblAA5jjl_nhNaJkBhyTTRHc1T-Ju5ptpg-4K7BStVHiXSV5w0G7E2VZaX-EmH3Q4O4_EfoRkeBpD8wYtahOY46rU-S618/s1600/20140410_bobby_0002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXsiqr-rKJAlyC3kMLkrnsWqK_QWcU2Rjp6RCj-A12R1RX6AblAA5jjl_nhNaJkBhyTTRHc1T-Ju5ptpg-4K7BStVHiXSV5w0G7E2VZaX-EmH3Q4O4_EfoRkeBpD8wYtahOY46rU-S618/s1600/20140410_bobby_0002.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></i>
<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And keep my eyes above the waves</i><br />
<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKrwO95CCtOaHwKJW6n337MzyB1czzaz98jxZFWDbiE65SK9AycQGkPS_xNKqmlrz1H888Pn85GJ5DoiVT-mrZkAHQG18yGDpctSAcU4t79qiw1fvj8xFzy6uCTWVvmZp5n_Lk31zAH-Y/s1600/Bobby-54-3188778315-O.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKrwO95CCtOaHwKJW6n337MzyB1czzaz98jxZFWDbiE65SK9AycQGkPS_xNKqmlrz1H888Pn85GJ5DoiVT-mrZkAHQG18yGDpctSAcU4t79qiw1fvj8xFzy6uCTWVvmZp5n_Lk31zAH-Y/s1600/Bobby-54-3188778315-O.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When oceans rise</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkdac3Ms-KMvTBSPH-gFl_gxZCNW_xve0DiDgy8lXM-dMemnbZksJQTsa8B-55u1XBn99pWptszM7uZPdwojmfMsO-XFM5eQPC6WtAIwbQOsYeVsXsJNFqzoUAwmZ157FSIOjVFn-2nfw/s1600/20140410_bobby_0088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkdac3Ms-KMvTBSPH-gFl_gxZCNW_xve0DiDgy8lXM-dMemnbZksJQTsa8B-55u1XBn99pWptszM7uZPdwojmfMsO-XFM5eQPC6WtAIwbQOsYeVsXsJNFqzoUAwmZ157FSIOjVFn-2nfw/s1600/20140410_bobby_0088.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></i>
<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My soul will rest in Your embrace</i><br />
<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf7D7ZJwwxGChyrU0fzwOtTTZrYpzJiYx6tqysqtufBZ5Zbo_Pz728dhqpw4tCOBaqSomQpctxlQZPPxDzF0i0afMfUrY5pl3Hb8lsZQz4G0iExt0eObV9zd4jegV6179B_SeE9R-kMsc/s1600/Bobby-40-3188778873-O.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf7D7ZJwwxGChyrU0fzwOtTTZrYpzJiYx6tqysqtufBZ5Zbo_Pz728dhqpw4tCOBaqSomQpctxlQZPPxDzF0i0afMfUrY5pl3Hb8lsZQz4G0iExt0eObV9zd4jegV6179B_SeE9R-kMsc/s1600/Bobby-40-3188778873-O.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">For I am Yours and You are mine</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7Mu8daEO9jxpPlbXFnYBIWQBmk1iWnYGOXRwRTxbnGAE5FHBFZ-2fSmUoQm8s-Y6XXXZGkqPKQzEcRVX5LothnZPgusrt8XXz3xykGvBm_xiq-jj32l859dnnK6TQEfBCU_DK0-WxtI/s1600/20140410_bobby_0015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7Mu8daEO9jxpPlbXFnYBIWQBmk1iWnYGOXRwRTxbnGAE5FHBFZ-2fSmUoQm8s-Y6XXXZGkqPKQzEcRVX5LothnZPgusrt8XXz3xykGvBm_xiq-jj32l859dnnK6TQEfBCU_DK0-WxtI/s1600/20140410_bobby_0015.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></i></i>
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;">Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders</span></i></i><br />
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></i></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMcfvSD1BwfguxlihCerhlx6-0wh0fpAUzmliBKGdZq9mO2k-QCxLVdOv199GGU_vpKh_Poqf5cgvMbiHi_BLEnDeYz4Ldy5UlI8xr2ZAwwt3I_Je2SVZK_ddyvF9ouoDr1kQ3GnGQ680/s1600/20140410_bobby_0099.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMcfvSD1BwfguxlihCerhlx6-0wh0fpAUzmliBKGdZq9mO2k-QCxLVdOv199GGU_vpKh_Poqf5cgvMbiHi_BLEnDeYz4Ldy5UlI8xr2ZAwwt3I_Je2SVZK_ddyvF9ouoDr1kQ3GnGQ680/s1600/20140410_bobby_0099.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
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<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Let me walk upon the waters</i><br />
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<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Wherever You would call me</i></div>
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<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander</i></div>
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<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And my faith will be made stronger</i></div>
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<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In the presence of my Savior</i><br />
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<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">-Hillsong, Oceans </i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We picked this song to be sung at Bobby's burial a</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">nd it only seemed fitting to share his life in pictures with the lyrics </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">because of the truth it has pointed us towards in the midst of our suffering. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="text Rom-5-1" style="background-color: white;">Romans 5:1-5 <i>Therefore, since we have been justified<span class="crossreference" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28049A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)"></span> through faith,<span class="crossreference" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28049B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)"></span> we have peace<span class="crossreference" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28049C" title="See cross-reference C">C</a>)"></span> with God through our Lord Jesus Christ,<span class="crossreference" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28049D" title="See cross-reference D">D</a>)"></span></i></span><i><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span class="text Rom-5-2" id="en-NIV-28050" style="background-color: white;">through whom we have gained access<span class="crossreference" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28050E" title="See cross-reference E">E</a>)"></span> by faith into this grace in which we now stand.<span class="crossreference" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28050F" title="See cross-reference F">F</a>)"></span> And we<b> </b>boast in the hope<span class="crossreference" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28050G" title="See cross-reference G">G</a>)"></span> of the glory of God.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span class="text Rom-5-3" id="en-NIV-28051" style="background-color: white;">Not only so, but we<b> </b>also glory in our sufferings,<span class="crossreference" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28051H" title="See cross-reference H">H</a>)"></span> because we know that suffering produces perseverance;<b> </b></span><span class="text Rom-5-4" id="en-NIV-28052" style="background-color: white;">perseverance, character; and character, hope.</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span class="text Rom-5-5" id="en-NIV-28053" style="background-color: white;">And hope<span class="crossreference" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28053J" title="See cross-reference J">J</a>)"></span> does not put us to shame, because God’s love<span class="crossreference" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28053K" title="See cross-reference K">K</a>)"></span> has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit,<span class="crossreference" style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-28053L" title="See cross-reference L">L</a>)"></span>who has been given to us.</span></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(Photo credit for all the pictures shared here goes to: <a href="http://www.lydiajane.com/">Lydia Jane</a> and <a href="http://www.peterbang.com/">Peter Bang</a>. Thank you.)</span></div>
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Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-84536231319146465542014-04-27T21:05:00.000-04:002014-04-27T21:05:03.152-04:00Our First Hello & Our Last Goodbye<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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(PC: <a href="http://www.peterbang.com/">Peter Bang</a>, Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep)</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There's no feeling on earth like meeting and holding your child for the first time. Although the outcome for this birth was different, my anticipation for that moment was the same. I loved my boy and holding him in my arms was all I could think of and what kept me pushing through when the wait felt like forever. Bobby was born at 8:50am and I'll never forget seeing him for the very first time. This tiny little human was laid on my chest, only with no cry and no first breath, but that can never change a Momma's love. His Daddy proudly cut his cord. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The morning Bobby was born the bright pink sunrise filled the sky outside the big windows in the labor and delivery room. The promise of a new day and an increasing confidence that we would meet our son (in the same room his big sister Audrey was born in) gave me fresh hope. It had been 24 hours since we walked into the hospital to be induced and the wait, at times, especially in the night, seemed excruciating. There were moments when I questioned God and wondered why he was putting me through this hell of a time when the circumstances we found ourselves in were already bleak. </span><br /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Our day began with heaven coming down to earth. We held him while he was already being held in our Savior's arms. We wept for the loss and sadness we felt, but we had confidence that in heaven he was perfect and whole. We had a whole day to be with him and hold him close, to snuggle him and sleep with him, to marvel over the beauty of God's amazing creation, to count his fingers and his toes. We cried, visited with friends, took pictures, and said our goodbyes. It was a beautiful day I'll remember always and one that has changed me forever. </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Saying goodbye and burying a child is the most unnatural feeling and agonizing experience for a parent. I hate it. Jesus hates it. He weeps with us and counts every tear. I could have held Bobby forever, but I knew and I could see his frail body was not made for earth. He was made for heaven. As the day went on you could see the decay happening before your eyes and it was heartbreaking. I didn't think I would come to a place of peace, but knowing he was already in a place where he was complete gave me peace to leave my son and say my final goodbye. </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">As beautiful as that day was I can't recount it without tears and sadness. Grief doesn't leave when you say that final goodbye. I wish it did. In many ways it just begins. I wish life could just stop so you could just grieve. I wish I could hold my baby again. I wish that there weren't days when it didn't feel like my life was over. I wish that there weren't days that I didn't just want to be alone. I wish that there weren't days that I didn't want to get out of bed. I wish I didn't feel "Mom guilt." I wish Bobby had a chance to walk this earth. I wish everything was made right now as Bobby is made right in heaven. Earth is a fallen world, broken, and incomplete, but God is with me. I am never truly alone or forsaken. I know I can't and won't come out on the other side of this without Jesus. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br style="color: #222222;" /></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm grateful God knew what was best and that His plan was better than mine for the timing of Bobby's arrival. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> In the night I cried over the agony of waiting for his arrival, but in the morning I understood God's plan and the gift that waiting was. Had he been born in the night we never would have the kind of time with him that we so desperately needed. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I think what God taught me through my labor with Bobby is one that parallels our current experience. Though we find ourself in a place that feels dark, sad, filled with pain, and we don't know how long this night will be, God is at work and his outcome is better than our "perfect" plans. I cling to that truth every day. I don't understand, I don't know how this will all work out, I don't know how God will bring beauty from ashes. But he's given me glimpses of that hope I'm holding onto. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My best friend shared this quote with me today, I couldn't have said it better myself:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">"It is much better to be left with the question in the night, 'What in the world are you doing, Lord?' than to think, 'You know, I cannot ask the Lord what he is doing, because he is not in this. I am on my own.'"</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> (Ligon Duncan </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Does Grace Grow Best in Winter</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">)</span></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">As a brief aside, thank you for all the comments and love from my writing. Many have asked me to keep writing. This has been a helpful outlet for me in my grief and it helps me to share it. I'm usually a private person, especially with my grief, but there is something marvelous and beautiful that is going to come from these ashes and I want the world to see how great is the God we believe in. This is going to be a story of God's faithfulness and redemption, with twists and turns, peaks and valleys, but in the end I believe I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Bobby's story is going to be bigger than his tiny and short life. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;">2 Corinthians 4:9 <i>"But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that </i></span><span style="background-color: white; font-style: italic; line-height: 21px;">the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us</span><span style="background-color: white; font-style: italic; line-height: 21px;">. We are afflicted in every way, but <b>not</b> crushed; perplexed, but <b>not</b> driven to despair; persecuted, but <b>not</b> forsaken; </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><i>struck down, but </i><b style="font-style: italic;">not</b><i> destroyed." </i>(Thanks Ally for writing and sharing this verse with me). </span></span>Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-65796079016240705392014-04-23T11:18:00.001-04:002014-04-23T11:51:18.939-04:00When Grief Finds You. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(PC: <a href="http://www.lydiajane.com/">Lydia Jane</a>)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The morning of my follow up appointment my stomach was in knots. The thought of leaving the house right now can bring on anxiety. You never know what you're gonna see, who you're gonna see or what they're gonna say. When you're in a fragile place like myself memories of things and people's words can feel like huge rocks being thrown at a glass house. It doesn't take a lot to break me down and even people's well meaning words can hurt and bring sad reminders. </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Home is a safe place for me. It's been a quiet place too. Everyone who comes and goes knows what we're walking through and are carrying this burden with us. I don't have to explain myself and being understood means the world. I can cry if I want to and not have to say why or look out of place. I knew my appointment was a hurdle to get over. I knew I would have to go sit in a waiting room full of healthy, happy, big belly expectant mothers. I'm not unhappy for them or would want to have others join me in my misery, but it stings. It's a reminder of my reality. I would have been 23 weeks today and probably sitting in one of those chairs, waiting. </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">They called me back just like a normal appointment. I stepped on the scale begrudgingly. Went into the room, sat on the table. Thinking ok, I survived the worst, the waiting room is over. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">While my nurse was checking my blood pressure it became increasingly clear from her questions that she wasn't tracking that this was not a routine 2 week post partum follow up.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Nurse: "Is your milk coming in?"</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Me: "Yeah." </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Nurse: "Are you still taking your prenatal vitamins."</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Me: "No, I stopped and I honestly haven't remembered." </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Nurse: "Are you breastfeeding?"</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Me: "No. My baby died."</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">(Silence) </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Nurse: "Ok, well you should still be taking prenatal vitamins."</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I didn't want to talk about prenatal vitamins, or my milk coming in, and I certainly didn't have anything to say about breastfeeding. She didn't even say sorry and I just wanted her to get out of the room. I wanted to cry alone and not shed a tear in front of someone who didn't care enough to take a look at my chart. Assuming she didn't mean to skip over it, the reminder hurt like hell. To have to say that out loud, well, I can't find the words to describe what swallowing that one felt like. Death stings. </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">My midwife, Angel, came in and I burst into tears. She gave me a hug and from the sound of her voice I knew she understood. She knew this was hard and a loss like this is awful. We talked and talked some more, she told me I'm "normal" that "this is a part of the grieving process" and "you're not crazy." It's validating to hear things like that. I need to hear that. Grief takes time and while it's rocking you, it rocks you. Especially when you look at yourself and you don't know who you are and unloading the dishwasher seems like an insurmountable task. </span></span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Grief is something that comes from walking this road. It's unavoidable, unwanted, and often unexpected. Grief "reminders" come on days of the week and days of the month. </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Monday is the day we "found out."</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Wednesday was my week mark. </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Thursday is the day he was born. </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Saturday is the day we buried him. </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">August is a month I have no words for but I know God will be there. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">In the Target aisle, its the side table I wanted to use for his nursery. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">In H&M, its the baby clothes section. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Before we lost Bobby I was not a crier. It took a lot to bring tears out of me and even when I did it was rare when the floodgates opened. It's even humbling for me to admit, that I've cried more these past two weeks than I have in my 31 years. I'm not the Janet I was before, at least for now. My mind runs on a single track, I can't process more than one thing at a time and things that were once familiar can overwhelm me. Add in not being able to eat or sleep and at moments I feel like a complete hot mess. Distant, distracted, exhausted, and emotional. I don't want to be, but I can't help it at times. Mom guilt too. I tell myself my girls won't remember, but it's hard to not feel like you're able to be the Mom you were or the kind of Mom you want. </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">In a loss like this God can feel far off and distant. Aloof. Uncaring. Some days it can feel like I'm picking up the shattered pieces of this mess and trying to put it all back together. "Real life" days can feel very empty and sad. What I've come back to in those moments is that belief and faith are a choice. And it's a choice I have to make over and over and over again even when my feelings are greater than what I believe. Many times, I often see God's hand more than I "feel" His nearness, sometimes visa versa and sometimes not at all. That is what keeps me writing, I want to remember the deepest waters God brought us out from. </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">On my very worst days and at my very worst moments (and there have been many) God never leaves me there. Ever. The lowest valleys and the deepest pits of my darkest night, God has never left me. </span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-style: italic;">"Your grace abounds in deepest waters</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-style: italic;">Your sovereign hand will be my guide</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-style: italic;">Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><i>You've never failed and You won't start now." </i>Oceans, Hillsong</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">"If I cannot trace his hand I can always trust his heart." Charles Spurgeon </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"If we are faithless, he remains faithful." 2 Timothy 2:13</span></span>Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-84476250692604628682014-04-21T10:46:00.000-04:002014-04-21T11:50:20.495-04:00The Meaning of a Life. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXgcM-zM_wQF_9WOox2MWLglWJDslVDaFd58MBn3OJ_NJHmK0d0oifu1aXHpn2zV6iLRNdru6BxfDqKjbWvtkJGJ4DzulwyABSt9i4ax0nrhBWs7aDgHxGeRS45OryXEAwZ2pYboV7x58/s1600/Bobby-46-3188778611-O.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXgcM-zM_wQF_9WOox2MWLglWJDslVDaFd58MBn3OJ_NJHmK0d0oifu1aXHpn2zV6iLRNdru6BxfDqKjbWvtkJGJ4DzulwyABSt9i4ax0nrhBWs7aDgHxGeRS45OryXEAwZ2pYboV7x58/s1600/Bobby-46-3188778611-O.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">(PC: <a href="http://www.lydiajane.com/">Lydia Jane</a>)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><i>"No footprint is too small to leave an imprint on the world." </i>(Many thanks to Laurie for sharing this with me.)</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Infant death and loss is a club no one wants to be a part of. And sadly, I've joined it and met other moms who are a part of it, many through sharing my story here. I wish I could hug everyone who's left a comment. There's a comfort in being understood, in sharing a path, and in knowing you aren't alone. It's healing in a way to see others go before you and experience a loss like this and really see that it does get better even if it sucks so bad right now.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Before we lost Bobby, I probably would have trivialized a loss like ours. Thought of it as hard, sad, but maybe not life changing. I would have even felt feelings of sadness but I might have even looked at it and thought things like:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">"Its not like they ever knew their baby outside the womb."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">"It's not really like having one of your children die since they passed while in utero."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Sadly, I might have even thought it silly that any parent would even bury their child at the time we lost Bobby. But when he was born, when I would have been 21 weeks, he had:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Ten fingers and ten toes.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Two eyes, two ears, a nose, and a mouth.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Two arms and two legs.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The cutest little bum.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Plump kissable cheeks.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">And the sweetest lips that had me lost from the moment I saw them.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">He was very much a formed, tiny little person. A perfect 8.5 ounces.</span></i><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Having lived through this hell, let me tell you. It's awful. And while I imagine knowing and experiencing a child alive and in the flesh would bring different and deeper feelings of loss, this is terrible. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy and if I could make all the pain of this go away I would. I shared that quote at the start of this post to make that point. The loss of a child at any point in their God given and created life, simply is a loss, and grief comes with that.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Bonding within pregnancy comes in different forms and at different stages. The amount you are attached and the amount they are loved only grows as they grow. Think of it when your child is born and how your love for them deepens as they live their earthly life. For me, those feelings of love start from the time I see those often surreal double lines. Come first trimester, the morning sickness (or all day sickness in my case) happens, you know what keeps me sane and pushing through: the finish line at the end. The ultimate prize: holding that baby and seeing all your hard work come to fruition in this precious life being laid on your chest. Hearing their first cry and watching them breathe their first breath of earth's air. It's the most beautiful, amazing experience and for me it keeps me from losing it when I just feel terrible.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Fast forward a few weeks to finding out (if you find out) if it's a boy or a girl. I have to say, I am one of those Moms that truly bonds when I know what I'm having. I remember it with my girls. Even though we didn't pick names, knowing what they were and knowing who was being added to our family, it was at that point that I was a goner for them. Totally done. Even deeper love. With Bobby, the boy thing was a total surprise. I really thought, "well, we just make girls" but he threw a beautiful wrench in the works.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I'll be honest, I struggled with the idea of having a boy. I think I secretly hoped for another girl and though I wasn't opposed, I wasn't all in excited. It took a few days and lots of shopping trips to get there. Some might call it superficial, but for me, I grew more attached to him with each piece of clothing I added to his closet. I had pictures in my mind of dressing him in every piece. Chubby thighs, kissable cheeks and all. By the time he was born last week, his closet was bursting and so was my heart for him. Oh my goodness, I loved that boy, without doubt and without hesitation. I hope he knows how much. He was so wanted by his Mommy and just as much by his Daddy.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The day we found out, the clothes got packed away. It was the first thing that I knew had to go. Some might be comforted by keeping clothes around, but for me, each item packed away was a dream surrendered of a life with him that we never got to have and the sadness that filled its space, there wasn't words for it. Those will always be Bobby's clothes to me.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">As a brief side note, I'm grateful for good friends who drop everything to be there for you in moments like that. Who get into your real life and do the dirty work. I didn't pack up those clothes. I don't think I ever could, but I can't say "thanks" enough to the friends who did. His clothes sit in a basement now, not in our house, waiting for the day when I will have the courage to open them, but for now I grieve.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Life matters. Bobby's life matters. And every parent who has ever lost a child, regardless of at what stage in life matters too. These small lives should be remembered and not forgotten, celebrated and not overlooked, cherished and not ignored. God has something for us to learn through each of their stories, because He made them. Bobby's story is still unfolding before our eyes and in many ways parts of it have yet to be told. I grieve for the short life he had, that matters so much to me and so much to many. He was and is a very loved little boy.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">A few days after Bobby was buried a friend of a friend shared this with me:</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #f7f7f7; color: #3e454c; line-height: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"We feel great sadness because we knew great love, regardless of the amount of time we were given."</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #3e454c; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I can't think of a better way to articulate our feelings. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #3e454c; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-11089019213640209152014-04-17T20:23:00.001-04:002014-04-17T20:36:25.469-04:00One week. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgv9od2yVHZgMmjsD4z7ngmntTj1-SY7ICFeDy4_zARv_vcnHRvfluDNpTAG5-irrrZ85b8xE8PZ0LII0YZnmkWBjKsVD3Db-BgzmgzQZmLAuU-F72GUyXjZdaXWu_kLtObNWqYcUwpNc/s1600/20140410_bobby_0075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgv9od2yVHZgMmjsD4z7ngmntTj1-SY7ICFeDy4_zARv_vcnHRvfluDNpTAG5-irrrZ85b8xE8PZ0LII0YZnmkWBjKsVD3Db-BgzmgzQZmLAuU-F72GUyXjZdaXWu_kLtObNWqYcUwpNc/s1600/20140410_bobby_0075.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(PC: <a href="http://www.peterbang.com/">Peter Bang</a>, <a href="https://www.nowilaymedowntosleep.org/">Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep</a>)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">It's been one week of unimaginable loss. Jesus hates death. He calls it the enemy. Jesus hates that I buried my son. Jesus hates that this is sad. It's been one week since I held my baby. It's been one week since I met my boy and said goodbye in the same day. The missing only grows and my longing for heaven only deepens by the moment. I can't wait to be with him again.</span></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Yesterday I woke up and checked my email and in it was the weekly Baby Center email telling you all the things you can expect and all the growth milestones your baby has met at 22 weeks. It stung. Its a moment that throws you off, you never know when it's going to come, and nothing can prepare you. Now I need to go unsubscribe. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">It happened a lot yesterday, the email wasn't the only moment when I missed my boy and cried. I was online shopping for the girls and my eyes came across a romper that would have been so perfect to put him in, even though he already had a closet full of clothes to wear. My mail days now bring grief cards and flowers instead of packages for my little boy. Sadly, on some mail days, some of those long awaited packages are still arriving</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: center;">. At the dinner table my mind wandered and it occurred to me, there will always be a little boy missing from our table. His chatter won't compete with his talkative sisters, his laugh is something I will never know, I won't ever remind him, for the tenth time, to finish his dinner. My milk is fighting to come in and I have no baby to feed. More tears. I look through pictures on my phone and find one of his sweet face and those perfect little lips and I think about how much I just want to have one minute to hold him again, but we already said goodbye. More and more tears.This is my grief and these are my sorrows. These are good things to grieve and I try to tell myself to let it come, that grief, in its own way is a gift, and it helps to feel these losses.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Grief makes you slow, scatterbrained, and rocks your body on every level. I needed to take a shower. I wanted to take a shower, but I sat in the chair in our bedroom and stared at the bathroom door for a good 30 minutes. Even something simple, feels like it takes all of me. Even things I enjoy and want to do take so much effort. I love food but can't eat. I love sleep, but can't sleep. The list goes on.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I cry often, and most of the time I don't want to talk about why and a lot of times if I do want to talk, I feel like I am saying the same things over and over and over again. I try to tell myself that it takes time, but right now I want to punch the person who came up with the saying "time heals all wounds" because to me that makes no sense. I want another baby so much, but I want it to be Bobby.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I listened to an <a href="http://www.covlife.org/resources/3968336-What_Im_Thankful_For?utm_content=buffer28147&utm_medium=social&utm_source=facebook.com&utm_campaign=buffer">audio message</a> from Josh Harris; he was preaching on the topic of death and suffering and how Christians walk through those things, he said:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><i>"We all need examples of what real Christian life looks like. We need to see that God meets people who are weak and have nothing left. God meets people who feel like all their faith is gone. In other words, he meets people like us in the real world."</i></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">What he said is the truth. I would be lying if I said I had it together all the time. Even if I speak truth in a way that sounds eloquent and "together" it doesn't mean I always believe those things and have it together in every moment. It's not possible and my life doesn't look perfect, it never will. My heart isn't always rejoicing in all things, I am not always trusting God, I don't often feel his nearness, and thats just the reality of the process. I'm human. If you're one of my closest friends, you might get a text from me telling you how shitty it feels to miss your baby so bad. I'm a fallen creature in desperate need of reminders. I have low moments and the reality is this is a very deep valley. I need to remember that Jesus weeps with me, that our loss is his, and he knows our pain and cares. That he meets me exactly where I am at. When I falter that doesn't mean I love Jesus less, it just means I need Jesus more. I can embrace and share my weakness because it is Jesus who is strong for me (2 Cor. 12:9). I can't and wouldn't want to walk through the valley of the shadow of death without Him.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Psalm 18:9 "He brought me out into a broad place; he rescued me, because he delighted in me."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Psalm 103: 1-5 "Bless the LORD, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name! Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits, who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, <b>who redeems your life from the pit</b>,</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy, who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s."</span></span>Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-27175332705881349022014-04-16T12:06:00.001-04:002014-04-16T16:52:40.369-04:00the day that changed our lives. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9gFhD-pG3HQZqJdpqP19Sw3FGOZKgFaV_5350jbE2Xb36D4t4a1cTKWNwnALrDg8nWhS0fKd4o1-VMvXJA3EkKzaRK2z_JjxtarnZuq3wtCDhjSBbRFnti9YwLvSn3sUELxXNvbO_E74/s1600/20140410_bobby_0036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9gFhD-pG3HQZqJdpqP19Sw3FGOZKgFaV_5350jbE2Xb36D4t4a1cTKWNwnALrDg8nWhS0fKd4o1-VMvXJA3EkKzaRK2z_JjxtarnZuq3wtCDhjSBbRFnti9YwLvSn3sUELxXNvbO_E74/s1600/20140410_bobby_0036.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">(PC: <a href="http://www.peterbang.com/">Peter Bang</a>, <a href="https://www.nowilaymedowntosleep.org/">Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep</a>)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">I'm sharing this day and writing Bobby's story to remember. Grief clouds your mind and makes you forget moments that mattered. I don't want to forget this story. Even though I wish it were over at moments, there's a purpose and a plan for our suffering. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">------------------</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Pregnancy is a series of moments where you hold your breath and thank God for the hurdles you jump over. At least for me. When you have your first ultrasound and hear the heartbeat, when you pass the first trimester, when you find out if it's a boy or girl in the second trimester. It's all feelings of validation and safety. Your baby is ok and all is well.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">At 17 weeks my best friend Becca and I planned an gender reveal with close friends since we were expecting just 5 days apart. I saw my boy on the screen moving, his heart beating so strong, every tiny feature about him was perfect. I'll never forget seeing him and having the specific feeling of my heart being filled with love for this baby even though I had no idea what they were. It was heavenly in a way because it was the last time I saw him very much alive.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">The two weeks leading up to our appointment I noticed a significant decrease in movement and a few days before we were supposed to go in for our appointment I didn't feel him anymore. I mentioned it in passing to friends, assuming I was just being hormonal and worrisome and even commented that seeing him the next day will just be a nice relief. As I laid in bed, I closed my eyes and my mind wandered. I couldn't turn it off and I think I knew. Not for sure but I see now how God prepared me.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">On April 7, 2014 Seth and I drove to the ultrasound office, sat in the waiting room like all parents do in eager expectation of seeing their baby and watching their every movement on the screen in awe and expectation. The tech called us back and then she started, measuring his head, his belly, and on down the line. About two minutes in, she looked over at me and says, "I'm sorry Janet, your baby isn't alive." She then went on to show us where his heart wasn't beating and how there was no life in his body. It was a sickening punch to the gut. The tears wouldn't stop coming and the horrible thoughts I couldn't stuff away from the night before were now my reality. I think my response to her when she told us was, "I know." She asked me some questions, all of which were torture to answer because I knew none of them would bring my baby back. What she said haunts me to this day.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">"When was the last time you felt the baby move?"</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">"Did you notice anything different?"</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">"Were you having any contractions?"</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">"Did you have a 12 week ultrasound screening?"</span></i><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">I wanted to scream at her through my tears and tell her to stop. To leave us alone. To give us peace. To cry for the baby we loved with every ounce of ourselves even though his life was short. To comfort the man I've never seen cry in our whole 8 years. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Our Bobby was so wanted. Our hearts were filled with joy at the thought of him being a part of our family. The girls knew him as "baby brother", he already had a closet full of clothes, we talked names, and Seth had dreams that every dad does of doing things with their son. The thought of holding and meeting that precious boy helped me persevere through almost 4 months of constant sickness.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Death stings and it changes your life. It's the unwanted guest. A thief. The unmerited victor. The taker of joy and the giver of pain. I'm grateful Jesus had victory over death and it's been swallowed up, but this side of heaven is fallen. It's broken. And we feel pain and loss in a very deep way. He is here to comfort us in our sufferings, but until were with him it exists and it's real. It hurts. It sucks so bad. (The picture I posted is an accurate representation of the agony we feel.) If our Savior didn't weep with us, we would be alone and hopeless. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">The doctor came in and talked us through what felt like the other side of our hell. All I could think of was home and how I just wanted to get out of this place and never see it again.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: x-small;">"You might want to consider genetic testing after this."</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>"You didn't do anything wrong, it was just the way he is."<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">"You're gonna have to go to the hospital to deliver the baby. They'll make you as comfortable as possible."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">"Your midwife will call you when you get home to make arrangements."</span></i></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">The worst part of the whole experience for me and the most devastating, I had to ask for pictures and they didn't even bother to tell us he was a boy. Even though I already knew, I wanted the validation and I wanted to feel like his short life meant something. Maybe people don't want pictures of their babies who've passed but I couldn't leave without something in my hands. Even though he was with Jesus, seeing his sweet little body curled in my womb brought me comfort.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">We left undone. It was raining outside, as heavy as the rain was so were my tears. Throughout that day I knew God was counting every one. I knew he was with us even though it hurt so bad and I didn't "feel" his nearness. I could see his hand, but I felt numb. I wanted my baby back and there wasn't a thing I could do about it.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">I am so glad I never got the "12 week screening" done because to us our boy was perfect. He was knit together by our Creator and we loved him. The reality is, if I had, abortion would have been thrown on the table as our best option because they think he had a chromosomal abnormality (we are waiting on testing to confirm but the reality is likely). Instead of us enjoying and celebrating his life, he would have been presented as sick, and although I speculate, I doubt we would have been encouraged to continue the pregnancy. To me, none of that matters. I would have carried him to term if God allowed, felt every kick, and delivered a baby that could have been seen in the eyes of some as weak, lowly, or inferior. But to us, he is our son and we loved him with a love so deep we would have turned our world upside down and cared for his every need if that meant he could be with us.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">I miss my baby every day, with every fiber of my being. He's changed my life and moved my mama's heart in ways I never could have known or experienced otherwise. He's shown me what I stand on in Jesus, He is the rock that doesn't move even if my whole life is a mess and I'm still unsure how to live in our "new normal." The Gospel of Jesus Christ is deeper and truer to me now, because it's not just "Jesus died for my sins." It's my Savior KNOWS and understands what it's like to experience the death of a child and that to me is a gift.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">Hebrews 11:1 "Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">"And our God is not a God to merely believe, but to experience,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">not to only believe in, but be held by.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">A God who not only breaks for you but breaks with you,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">a God to not only have creeds about, but to have communion with,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">a God who not only who dies for you, but who cries with you,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">the God who touches you and binds you and blesses you and heals you</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">and re-members you because He let Himself be dismembered</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">and He is the God we not only believe in— but we know.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">We know – know beyond a shadow of doubt, death or despair."- Ann Voskamp</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">I also wanted to share this song, because I have listened to it 100 times over and its uplifted me and helped me so much in my darkest moments. </span></span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/SRmkU0kgd3g" width="480"></iframe>Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-75649915203858313602014-04-14T22:54:00.000-04:002014-04-16T15:55:16.470-04:00for Bobby. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLcj1FE_H1WdMYCC2abmA9J8Obc_-WKMUMH9SYDa5P2en9sf8Wmnhn0P3Fsg4cBFcHBwD5BMCQB36d4uVH67LJNs5QEHVdVlKfz1NWrl2vGUygqQ_a3g9t5bSD2cw7ogDlb5fhXtiMnLo/s1600/20140410_bobby_0071.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLcj1FE_H1WdMYCC2abmA9J8Obc_-WKMUMH9SYDa5P2en9sf8Wmnhn0P3Fsg4cBFcHBwD5BMCQB36d4uVH67LJNs5QEHVdVlKfz1NWrl2vGUygqQ_a3g9t5bSD2cw7ogDlb5fhXtiMnLo/s1600/20140410_bobby_0071.jpg" height="640" width="425" /></a></div>
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(PC: <a href="http://peterbang.com/">Peter Bang</a> from <a href="https://www.nowilaymedowntosleep.org/">Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep</a>)</div>
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This blog has been quiet and I think the Lord knew the time away was needed. A calm before the storm of sorts. We found out we were expecting a new little baby in November 2013 and found out he was a perfect little boy in March 2014. Just a month later, on April 7, 2014, we found out that he was in the arms of Jesus. He was born just 3 days later, on April 10, 2014, weighing in at a tiny 8.5 ounces, but he is perfect to us and always will be. I was just as excited to meet him, to hold him, and to snuggle him as much as our girls, even though the outcome was different. A mother's love knows no limits and every life, no matter how small, matters. We pray our Bobby's life will be used in mighty ways. That many would see the faithfulness, goodness, love, and kindness of the God we trust in. Our suffering and our loss isn't an accident, there is a plan and a purpose in it, even if we don't know the end of the story.<br />
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We buried our boy on April 12, 2014. At his burial my amazing husband paid tribute to our son and I wanted to share it here because it has shined a light into my own personal darkness, it has reminded me of the truth I so desperately needed to hear, and it has helped me remember my boy in the most beautiful way.<br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"My beautiful wife is my hero. She has been since I have been married to her, especially after watching her deliver both our girls naturally and after watching her become a remarkable momma to them; but she climbed the most difficult of mountains that a loving mother could ever be asked to climb on Wednesday and Thursday. She delivered our son Bobby, who was already in heaven, and there were no cries. Just silence. And then the sound of our tears. She wanted him laid right on her breast where our other babies were first laid. She is and will forever be my hero. Her faith in the God we both know and love has and will continue to change me and compel me for the rest of my life. I love you Janet. You are the most beautiful, amazing, courageous, woman I have ever known.</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One of the best smells in the world is the smell of a newborn. I went outside yesterday and smelled our son. It was perfect to me. Thank you for moments like that God. Bobby is alive. perhaps more alive than even I who stands before you?</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I thought, while we were waiting for Bobby to be delivered on Wednesday, he wouldnt actually come until Thursday, that he is already in heaven and he already knows more about real life than we do. I thought, when we meet him, that he might wonder at our wonder. I thought we might have to explain to him why we are so clumsy in heaven's air, the only air he has ever known.</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Our son Robert Langdon Remsnyder. Bright with glory from the long hill. Thats what his name means. And that is what he is. Bobby. I think this is what I will say to you when we meet and I have to tell you why heaven is so foreign to us. This will be all mixed up between past,present and future tense so please excuse me.</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My son, you never breathed earth's often stuffy air. You never stepped onto earth's cursed ground. You were created for heaven's air. You were formed to walk on heaven's ground. Your breath has never been stifled by pollen or dust. Your lungs have breathed absolute purity. You have breathed the unfiltered breath of Christ. Your precious feet have probably never known stumbling. At least of the kind that we experience on earth when we scrape our knees or stub our toes and cuss at the earth.</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Bobby, your earthly eyes never got to see your mothers beautiful face lightened by this world's sun. You never got to hear your father's voice using your earthly ears or to feel our arms around you but that is because Jesus made you to see us with no filter, by the light of God's glory and your ears have been tuned only in the perfect pitch of heaven. You've heard angels sing from your first moments, and most glorious of all, you have heard the voice of our Saviour Jesus Christ, from the time you were formed. It was probably his embrace you first knew, after all, He loves children so much.</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You've never miscommunicated or disobeyed. We do that all the time. But you are our glory baby. Jesus formed you in your precious mother's womb and then took you directly home to Him self. It is better for you. Heaven is and ever will be what you know best. I have dreamed, in the past dark hours of this week, that we will wake up there and that maybe you will be the first person we meet. Maybe you will give me coffee that your mother won't mind and maybe you will give her the kiss she has waited a lifetime for, and maybe then you will do us the honor of introducing us to Our King, our Saviour and our Friend, Jesus. Maybe we will be wide eyed while you take us to him, maybe we will seem in complete awe and wonder? Maybe you will wonder at that? </span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, if in meeting you we seem strange and awkward, please give us time. We will have time. I thank God we will have an eternity with you Bobby. I love you, daddy loves you, mommy loves you, we can't wait to be with you."</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">--------------------</span></i><br />
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I may be back to blog some more in the midst of this storm. To remember our Bobby, to talk of what God is teaching me, to recount these dark days, so I can look back and see the hand of a faithful God who carried us through it all.<br />
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Psalm 27:13 <i>"I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living." </i>Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-35870203355698714972014-02-09T05:15:00.001-05:002014-02-09T05:49:21.679-05:00An explanation of silence. This blog has sat idle and ignored almost a whole year. When I started this little blog of mine I never could have imagined stepping away for so long only to never want to return again. Or maybe, just for now.<br />
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My life these days is full, raising two kids, expecting another one and being a wife, using my mind creatively and simply surviving the day are my top priorities. And in a blessed way it doesn't leave a lot of time for this little blog of mine.<br />
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My intentions in starting this blog was to share our lives. The good, the bad, and the ugly. And truth be told, sometimes things aren't made to be shared or talked about just because you have a platform to speak from. The Internet, blogs, and social media have made me tired. Sometimes it just feels like an endless gong of opinions, feelings, hurts, passive aggressive jabs and talking about other people, DIY projects and pretty homes with all white walls. It's honestly been hard to see the good in it for me. I've needed a break from it all. From caring what other people think and caring about how other people live their lives.<br />
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I stopped writing on this blog and I stopped reading blogs (with a few exceptions).<br />
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It was the best decision for me.<br />
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I needed to breathe fresh air.<br />
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I needed to "unplug."<br />
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I needed to not care about what's next exciting meal was that I wanted to share or what party I was going to plan or how I was going to redecorate my house next, without the desire for praise and a pat on the back from those who read that honestly made my life look a lot "cooler" and better than it really is.<br />
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Simply put, I just needed to live, and I didn't need to invite the watching world into it. And don't get me wrong, blogs have their place, but for me and for this time, they're not for me.<br />
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I wanted and needed time for real relationships and I found spending that time rather than writing was most beneficial for me.<br />
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This past year has taught me a lot. I'm not as trusting as I once was and I want to really know the people I surround myself and my children with.<br />
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At the end of the day, when you strip away the facade, the platform, the stories, the projects, the meals, the pretty things, we are all just human. I have real problems, raw emotions, "good days and bad days," and the truth is sometimes I don't take a shower. I love my kids, my husband, and the home we've built together. I love that our front door is always open. I love Jesus and I live for a good deal. I love grace. I love to throw parties, I love to decorate, I love to cook. I'm a loyal friend to the death and I cannot stand a liar.<br />
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I treasure this newfound privacy and quietness I've found this past year and the lives I have invested myself into and people who have invested themselves in me. I love that our life hasn't consisted of fancy meals or many DIY projects. I love the simplicity of it. I'm grateful for real conversations. For sharing my life with those I am closest to and not an audience of unknowns and silent lurkers.<br />
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This blog will probably sit untouched for the time to come. The motivation to pick it up again still hasn't returned. But it was nice to get in an update for now. To share my heart, because I want to remember this time as much as all the other times I have shared through the years on here.<br />
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<br />Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-63980204830706480282013-04-17T13:48:00.000-04:002013-04-17T13:51:55.873-04:00one year of Edith.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVCvP7v3slq4KItbccxT7kRInGLE14j_ZFMitGS1aB3FDQx6b18AUqo16T1ThxikTTq3ZSOc2UGz7peVs-9E4TE-olyZsEk6RRKkxfmlEwYDxt8Mq4ugUWoyCKr6DdxpuRgpiayoCQxcg/s1600/mom+and+edy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVCvP7v3slq4KItbccxT7kRInGLE14j_ZFMitGS1aB3FDQx6b18AUqo16T1ThxikTTq3ZSOc2UGz7peVs-9E4TE-olyZsEk6RRKkxfmlEwYDxt8Mq4ugUWoyCKr6DdxpuRgpiayoCQxcg/s640/mom+and+edy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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What a year with this girl we've had, its been hard to put all my thoughts, feelings and emotions into words. My heart was so full as we celebrated her first birthday, there was such a deep gratefulness in my heart for her little life. There are so many moments when I don't know what I would have done without her this past year. She has been a joy, truly, when we needed it most, and continues to be. Snuggling her, caring for her, and having those sweet cheeks to kiss have provided me with countless distractions from life and all of its cares.<br />
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We picked the name Edith for its meaning, prosperous in war or warrior for the good. I feel like having her has taught me those truths in some profound ways and for that I am so grateful.<br />
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Edy girl, you are your Mommy's joy, a true heaven sent gift, and the perfect addition to our family. We love you and can't thank God enough for your life.<br />
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And in case you missed the pictures from her darling first birthday celebration, our lovely friend, Lydia, documented them <a href="http://www.lydiajane.com/2013/04/edy-turns-one-birthday-party-in-maryland.html">here</a>.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/62315149" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe> <a href="http://vimeo.com/62315149">Edith's First</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user15524989">Janet Remsnyder</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-86991795782875213752013-03-04T13:44:00.000-05:002013-03-04T13:44:04.137-05:00truth to anchor your soul. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjChKAFn0vql1fcMMZXeEr_0bnmM9ZAcogDrhwqxrZhHfVYSiya7fiblhPFhzoR2TiZltzkLvViPfXFBoytQnt2K_0f4MRq8lQ2ocOR3rbQIdsFVFIiIMY23x48dw4FaCigj6g238llZ8E/s1600/IMG_3658.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjChKAFn0vql1fcMMZXeEr_0bnmM9ZAcogDrhwqxrZhHfVYSiya7fiblhPFhzoR2TiZltzkLvViPfXFBoytQnt2K_0f4MRq8lQ2ocOR3rbQIdsFVFIiIMY23x48dw4FaCigj6g238llZ8E/s640/IMG_3658.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><em>“I will make with them an everlasting covenant that I will not turn away from doing good to them . . . . I will rejoice in doing good to them.”</em> (Jeremiah 32:40, 41).</span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is one of those promises of God that I come back to again and again when I get discouraged (yes, that happens to pastors). Can you think of any fact more encouraging than that God rejoices to do you good?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He doesn’t begrudgingly fulfill his promise (Romans 8:28). It is <em>his joy</em> to do you good. And not just sometimes. Always! “I will <em>not turn away</em> from doing good to them.”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But sometimes our situation is so hard to bear we just can’t muster any joy. When that happens to me, I try to imitate Abraham: “In hope he believed <em>against hope</em>” (Romans 4:18). God has always been faithful to guard that little spark of faith for me and eventually (not right away) fan it into a flame of happiness and full confidence.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">O how glad I am that the thing that makes Almighty God happiest is doing good for you and me!</span></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(taken from Desiring God's daily devotional)</span></i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Truth be told, in the midst of trial, one of the hardest things for me to wrap my mind around is the aspect of God's character that He is good and does good. There are days when the fight of my heart is to just believe that simple truth. A friend sent this excerpt to me this morning and it was the perfect encouragement in the midst of the fight. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This simple truth that "God has always been faithful to guard that little spark of faith" brought me to tears. Because some days that faith feels small, fragile, and weak, but the more I saturate myself in the truth of who God is, the more I am given strength in the fight. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>You call me out upon the waters</i></span></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The great unknown where feet may fail</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">And there I find You in the mystery</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">In oceans deep</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">My faith will stand</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">And I will call upon Your name</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">And keep my eyes above the waves</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">When oceans rise</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">My soul will rest in Your embrace</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">For I am Yours and You are mine</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">Your grace abounds in deepest waters</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">Your sovereign hand</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">Will be my guide</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">You've never failed and You won't start now</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">So I will call upon Your name</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">And keep my eyes above the waves</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">When oceans rise</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">My soul will rest in Your embrace</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">For I am Yours and You are mine</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">Let me walk upon the waters</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">Wherever You would call me</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">And my faith will be made stronger</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">In the presence of my Savior</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;">Oceans-Hillsong</span></span></i></div>
Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-18766774611722676502013-02-20T11:48:00.000-05:002013-02-20T11:48:38.679-05:00the here & now.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoziYTxoTVp_708fkdqCSAdtcrz_GEV7mR3iDMtT_eo0ioKZ7n4aN3poTysHtcGLQy-e1OWy7Bsb1pQ_h2WfHBuFtqm1ieFhQ8LbArv0yqX-_O6w3biKMakuAJY65QPfZUC70dbtsbqQs/s1600/photo-72.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoziYTxoTVp_708fkdqCSAdtcrz_GEV7mR3iDMtT_eo0ioKZ7n4aN3poTysHtcGLQy-e1OWy7Bsb1pQ_h2WfHBuFtqm1ieFhQ8LbArv0yqX-_O6w3biKMakuAJY65QPfZUC70dbtsbqQs/s640/photo-72.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">"There are times when solitude is better than society, and silence is wiser than speech." Charles Spurgeon</span></i></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;">I talked some about why I stopped blogging and here's the honest truth: the me that's coming back to it now is not the same person who blogged before. Life has changed me and so much of who I am in the past year and a half. Looking back on old posts I realize I probably will never be that same person again. From here on out life is going to be real. Not that it wasn't before, but I guess I hadn't been touched, personally and through friendship, by some of life's deepest challenges to know that not everything on the outside may be what it seems. The reality is, from when I started this blog our lives were easy in so many ways. Too many ways to be honest. The things that were trials to us then seem like small beans to us now. There were many comforts in life that I could have leaned on and I never felt what it was to be without so many of those things until recently. God has taken many things away, but what he's given us in place of that is better. Far better. I would never have imagined what we would have walked through as a family of four, as a church, and in our relationships. I know so much more of what it means to just be sad, to be raw before The Lord, and to not understand his ways. It changes you and you can't help it.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;">And really, in many ways, we still feel like we're in the thick of it. There are days when it's hard to see the light. But it's good to dwell in the here and now, the "real life" as I've taken to calling it. Because here's the best part, there's still good in it and God hasn't left us or stopped working, even if it feels like He has.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;">It's hard to know what to say sometimes and how to say it while not coming across as a "woe is me", "my life is so hard", complainer while not sacrificing the honesty that is so lacking in the world of social media. I'm still working on that and I hope that if you read any of this and take anything away it's that life as a Mom and a wife is a wonderful gift, that I wouldn't trade for anything in the world, but we're all human and its hard some days.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;">But life is simpler now.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;">A joy for me is going to the grocery store. Alone. And just walking up and down every aisle. Just because I can.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;">It's in rocking my baby before she goes to bed and having her curl up on my shoulder and sigh and start to drift off to sleep.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;">It's the late nights with my best guy, just sitting on the couch next to each other, not even necessarily talking, just being together.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;">It's the spontaneous hug from my three year old telling me she "loves me so much."</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;">It's the countless texts from my Mom and other Mommys that make me laugh and remind me I'm not doing this alone.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;">It's the friends, married and single, who have offered to babysit for us, dropped off spontaneous meals, and blessed us in countless other ways. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;">These are great things. Good things and tangible evidence of a Heavenly Father who loves us and hasn't stopped loving us. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;">I'm not sure what this blog will look like going forward. I look at it and its somewhat of a mystery to me.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;">If I post a recipe it's not because I'm an amazing cook, but probably because it was one we enjoyed and its good to share.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;">If I post something about how I decorated or threw a party chances are its because its something I loved investing myself in and was glad to actually accomplish something. Not because I'm the pinnacle of success and I want everyone to do things like me. For example, I'd love to do a post about Edys nursery, its one of the most special rooms in our house to me. Heres the real life challenge: it's not done, and I still have a dark sheet pinned over the window in place of a curtain I bought all the supplies for but still need to make. She's 10 months and I'm starting to wonder if I'm ever going to get to it.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222;">In some ways it's good to be back to all this. To sort of pick up where I left off and to move forward. So if you're still reading thanks, and really, for all the sweet comments and words of encouragement double thanks. It'll be fun to see where this goes.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-48415828805397616822013-02-13T14:11:00.001-05:002013-02-13T14:11:52.891-05:00What if life was boring?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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After my last post about real life last week I got so many sweet encouraging comments and feedback from other Mommy's, if you did, thank you. It's always so nice knowing we're never in this alone and chances are we all think the day's a success if everyone in the house was fed. </div>
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I'm learning, ever so slowly, that this whole Mommy thing isn't about me and my life being easy, looking "cool", or going my way. I wish I could say I always embraced this season with joy, contentment, and gratefulness. Some day its mixed and other days I feel like I'm losing the fight. Today was the prime example of that. </div>
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The day started off promising. Edy slept well (which she hasn't for several nights because she's on cold number "I've lost track this winter I'm ready for spring to be here"), Audrey woke up with soaked sheets but Seth took care of it and breakfast time passed without a meltdown. I knew I had to make a call to reserve our house for our OBX vacation so an episode of Yo Gabba Gabba to keep the kids occupied seemed like a good solution. Minutes later I don't hear Edy and I turn the corner to see her at the top of the stairs just in time to catch her as she falls. Bruised forehead later and snot pouring out like water out of a faucet damage control seems to be working, I make the reservation, send out a few emails and its on to wash the soaked sheet and blankets. Edy's morning nap is over shortly after it began with a coughing fit. And somewhere in the midst of all this craziness some part of me thinks we should craft. Of course why not drag out every craft supply in our house, Valentines Day is tomorrow after all. Audrey makes some cards and I decide now's a great time to make the effort to love my husband. I find a heart cookie cutter start tracing, stamping, and then taping the hearts to twine. It's all going perfectly. Until I turn it over. It's all backwards. Meanwhile every toy bin in our house is being spilled out in the living room and then Audrey decides to have a tantrum and pulls out all the stops with, "you're not my friend anymore" and "you dont love me." Awesome. And it's only 1:00pm. </div>
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In these moments I want to throw in the towel. Flat out quit. The "I can't even imagine the thought of getting dinner on the table" because my day is clearly so far gone. But then I stop. I look at the picture of the backwards banner and realize, its not about perfect, clean, tidy, my children love me every moment, everything is right with my world life. This is my life. I can't change it and I wouldn't want to. It's about the effort, the heart behind it, not the outcome or what it looks like. Right in that moment, I got this text:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiXrsnWsanHyUomG9wYac1p1pcKRLoj5_EFSAdcovjSg5chfie2VBxym6977kx33JbSG-tVzlzz1Kn0g9yagnXzQZAyhz1Oe_n0mGsvenxQnfBeRE10935Kfj5nPHbKJsXo0cVJqtZPws/s1600/photo-1.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiXrsnWsanHyUomG9wYac1p1pcKRLoj5_EFSAdcovjSg5chfie2VBxym6977kx33JbSG-tVzlzz1Kn0g9yagnXzQZAyhz1Oe_n0mGsvenxQnfBeRE10935Kfj5nPHbKJsXo0cVJqtZPws/s320/photo-1.PNG" width="180" /></a></div>
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A day is gonna come when I'm gonna miss this. I know it. I know it because every veteran Mom I talk to tells you that and just about everything they've told me so far is true so I'm just gonna believe them.<br />
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So to embrace all I'm learning and for the sake of remembering, I'm leaving the banner as is because really it is just perfect because its where I am right now and I'm ok with that.<br />
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<i>Psalm 16:6 "The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a beautiful inheritance."</i>Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-27256320427726790132013-01-30T23:52:00.003-05:002013-01-31T00:00:27.924-05:00A Day in the Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPXr4NjbJDp1nHE-wT1FzOQTfxNoXGHlwAkQLqxUokBbDT36fvrjfv2m0WWFQeHjKPl2H_-mhlYZLgeljacpDzPN-N3ilfsXuh2QNKn_W6dP8WNcrAmUEM5MxmxdjJV8lCw37DS4nH9Bo/s1600/photo-68.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPXr4NjbJDp1nHE-wT1FzOQTfxNoXGHlwAkQLqxUokBbDT36fvrjfv2m0WWFQeHjKPl2H_-mhlYZLgeljacpDzPN-N3ilfsXuh2QNKn_W6dP8WNcrAmUEM5MxmxdjJV8lCw37DS4nH9Bo/s320/photo-68.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
The more people I talk to the more I realize that social media makes our lives look more exciting, special, and sometimes easier than they actually are. And it inspired me to add a hash tag (#reallife) on my Instagram for those moments when I want to celebrate the ordinary and embrace the reality of this season I am in as a Mom to my two precious girls. Is it fun, absolutely, is it easy, no, but the moments I find the most joy in are the simple ones that are typical uncaptured and in some ways are ordinary but amazing nonetheless. So here's a bit of real and a look into our lives.<br />
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8am I hear the pitter patter of a 3 year olds feet on the stairs, starting off the morning by breaking the rule of not coming out (except for a potty trip) of her room. She wakes up her sister. Normally I could roll but last night Audrey had a potty accident at 2am and Edy had a fluke feeding at 5:15am. Seth saves the day, feeds the girls breakfast, I squeeze in a much needed 40 more minutes of sleep, throw on some pajama pants, unbrushed teeth, and head down the stairs to fed babies, I throw a stray piece of banana chocolate chip bread in my mouth. Breakfast. Check. <br />
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Audrey grabs up a pair of boots and her puffy coat (you know cause its 65 degrees outside, you gotta be prepared) in her arms and takes off for the front door only to stop on the front step to sing a few T Swift tunes while I change a massively poopy diaper. Nap time rolls around for Edy, she goes down, I take a much needed shower, Audrey watches the iPad, I finally catch up on a few emails, work on vacation plans, and before you know it Edy's up. From here, its lunch, more playing, face-timing with Aly, snuggles on Mommy and Daddy's bad, an epic tantrum from Audrey because she wanted to see her picture right away (what day would be complete without one if you have a 3 year old), and then afternoon naps.<br />
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The sounds of wind and rain kept the girls afternoon naps shorter than usual, I got a little girl dressed and ready for dance and managed to get the girls to the car relatively unsoaked. I didn't escape the pouring rain and my whole back half ended up getting drenched. Nothing the seat heaters cant take care of. Excellent. We make it to dance class on time, which in and of itself is a small miracle. Edy and I run to the store where she charms all the people shopping with her sweet smile and incredible ability to turn around and completely escape from being belted in. Finish up, check out relatively simply, and pick up A from dance class. Come home, make the most gourmet dinner I could think of, hot dogs and french fries. Get the girls to bed mostly easily and that was the day.<br />
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And what do I do? Crash. And pin clothes for my girls they probably won't wear unless they go on sale for 50% off. But for some reason its relaxing and even if I'm not with them, I never stop thinking about them.<br />
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Why do I share this? Because for Mom's these are our "average" days (and for me I am partially rejoicing because nothing happened today involving my make up, a box of cheerios, a toilet seat, or a power cord) and in many ways they are the ones who deserve the well done for their faithful day in day out investment of washing dishes, changing diapers, sounding out words, making non-gourmet dinners, running carpool, wiping noses, and the list could go on. I wouldn't trade anything in the whole world for it and in many ways I don't want my life to look "cooler" than it actually is. I want to be grateful for what I have and just enjoy it: my kids, their laughs, faces, moods, tantrums, all of it. This is real life people and its good. So good.<br />
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So to all the Mommy's who are just doing what Mommy's do: you rock. Keep doing it. You are the best Mommy to your littles and they are blessed to have you. Never forget it. It may not be glamourous and you may have given up a lot for it, but rejoice in it because there is so much good to be had in the ordinary. And ultimately, when your kids look back on their lives they will never forget all the moments you were there and what you invested into their lives day after day after day.Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6599730022386841057.post-21293573564501285572013-01-17T20:03:00.000-05:002013-01-17T20:03:32.977-05:00Our 2012This seemed to be the best way to capture our 2012 since I virtually stopped blogging last year. There wasn't much time for it and at times it was hard to know what to say and how to communicate all that we were going through as a family. There were moments of so much joy, Edith, was a huge source of that. I look at her and I know that God gave her to us for a reason, He knew what we were going to walk through this year and he knew what a wonderful distraction she would be. When I am with her, her joy is contagious and I can't help but smile.<br />
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So many moments I felt a loss for words, utterly crushed, and often perplexed, blogging, for me, just wasn't the outlet to share those dark days. Maybe someday I will, but for now this I do know, that God carried us and that He is real. I saw Him move in ways I never could have imagined and I felt the peace and power of God even in the deepest valleys. This year I wrestled with truths I have known my whole life and at times doubted the goodness of God. These words from John Piper were a huge encouragement to me personally:<br />
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<i>"It is utterly crucial that in our darkness we affirm the wise, strong hand of God to hold us, even when we have no strength to hold Him." </i><br />
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We were carried this year, through prayers, meals delivered, babies held and watched, and in countless other ways. I think last year taught us a lot. That pain is real, that earth is not our home, and that we shouldn't be surprised when trials come. My friend, <a href="http://kauflinfam.blogspot.com/">Tali</a>, who has been through so much really said it best:<br />
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<i>"We are different people now, changed by the storms we have walked through. God has worked in us in so many ways, and we are not so innocent thinking that difficulty will never find us, but full of faith that when they do, God will be there and He will hold us up again."</i><br />
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Our 2013 hasn't been all that different, on Saturday, we are going to the funeral of our dear cousin, Steve, who died suddenly while vacationing with his wife, Jeannine. We are devastated and grieving with our family over this loss. He was such an incredible blessing to our family and we are so glad to have known him and felt his love. We know that our lives won't be the same without him and he will be missed.<br />
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<i>2 Cor. 4:7-9 "But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed."</i><br />
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<a href="http://vimeo.com/56452238">My First Project</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user15524989">Janet Remsnyder</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.Janethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08820475140545695098noreply@blogger.com3