Trying to Take Back Christmas: Grieving and Changing Traditions (Another U-Turn)

Every year when Christmas rolls around, it's like I'm on a zipline that's about to go off the cliff. I'm deathly afraid of heights, so it's not something I would do willingly. But that's just it, Christmas comes every year and every year I face the traumas around my daughter's death one week before Christmas. So here I am, strapped to this zipline at the top of the cliff and Time pushes me off and all I can do is close my eyes, hang on with all my might, and wait for it to be over. And just like every year, when it is over, I open my eyes to a mess of Christmas decorations that I get to tear down with all the bitterness of my heart. 

Believe it or not, Christmas used to be my favorite. I couldn't wait for Christmas to come. I decked my halls with a lot more than holly! Red and green colors would burst from every corner of the house. But the grieving journey has other plans for me. For whatever cosmic reason, I decided to change my color scheme that year to blue and white. The Christmas tree hung tons of blue and white balls and it was beautiful. It was one week before Christmas, we were at my mom's house putting together Christmas baskets with goodies. My daughter Sarah died during her nap in my mom's room that afternoon. After we got back from the hospital, without her, I spent the whole week in that very room, breathing in what was left of her spirit. The day after Christmas, we finally came home for the first time. Sarah's nickname was "blueberry" because of the blue hemangioma on her nose and our tree with all it's blue balled ornaments, looked like a blueberry bush. At that moment, I saw it as this beautiful message that "Sarah was still among us for Christmas." That was my beautiful reminder. For years, I would put all those blue ornaments on the tree, faithfully bringing her message back to us. It was comforting. 

But then something switched in me. I got really sick and extra sensitive to everything around me. I stopped celebrating her birthday the way I normal would. All the things I did over the years to help me cope with Sarah's absence were now incredibly hurtful. I had needed those things during those years, and now I didn't. I needed something else now. I'm still sorting through certain triggers around Christmas, but a big one this year were those damn blue ball ornaments on my tree that no longer made me feel her, they made me feel her absence all the more. They took me back to that awful day when we came home for the very first time with empty empty arms. Those balls reminded me now of my emptiness, that hole that no God can ever fill until I see her again. 

So after talking with my wonderful therapist, I decided to not only take them off of my tree, but to destroy them. Just me and my husband set out to destroy this awful trigger. I stood at the tree and bagged up all the blue balled ornaments of that awful day and started towards the back door. But I was stopped by my 12 year old son Isaiah. The only child that was actually here when we lost her.

"What are you doing with those?" He asked me, staring me down. 

"I'm taking them down and getting rid of them this year." I tried to be delicate with my voice. 

"No! No! No! Put them back! Put them back!" tears were welling up in his eyes. The desperateness in his voice broke my heart and I started crying with him.

I didn't even think about his feelings with these.  "I'm sorry sweetie, but I have to do this. They are too painful to keep. This is something I have to do." 

"Put them back, please, put them back!" He just kept repeating it through his tears. After that I took him to a private place so we could talk and it was decided, after both of us bawling, that we would put a mini tree up in his room and he can keep one single ball from the bag. As a mother who understands that he has his own unique journey of grief, I had to compromise in this.  

So with my heart now torn to shreds, I went to the garage with my husband who had a tarp down and ready and we smashed the shit out of those ornaments. They were not easy to break either, because they were plastic. Especially the ones that we more solid plastic. It made us angry that they weren't glass that would break easily. But that's just it, isn't it? It's not easy removing triggers from your life. I can smash these ornaments, but the traumatic memories they triggered will always be there. I felt like this was our ceremony of trying to "take back Christmas." This time of year will always be hard, but I want to love Christmas again. I can't promise that this will do it, but it will definitely help. And it's already easier to breathe without staring at those ornaments all day, every day. 

My encouragement to you, if you struggle with grief this holiday season, is don't let traditions prevail if they start hurting you. My husband even added, "Well, it's like we always kept putting those ornaments up for tradition so we don't offend ourselves." Allow things to change as you change. It's okay to give yourself permission to do so. Life changes us so much as we continue to grow and experience new things, new trials, and new victories. Let these traditions change with you as you need them to, in order to cope the only way you know how. 

~Love yourself enough to prove it. 

Dancing with December

O December

You never evade me.

My heart betrays me.

It’s a painful price to even look at you.

8 years passed.

In my head, she dies again…. Every time.

All treasonous senses so religiously remind me.

Time’s repetitious dance is my enemy.

If I could blot you out, I would.

Useless to pray you away.

My old love for you remembers better days.

Days filled with light passed, now clouded by darkness.

Days with joy and excitement passed, now knocks dread.

Warm family closeness wrestles isolation.

Why must I take your hand as you escort me through memories I wish I could forget?

Your swift movements lure me in, arms remain warm as the silent snow falls.

I feel your attempts to cover my eyes from the sight of her empty face, but it’s no use.

I hear your song, “Because of the One we celebrate this season, we have Hope…”

It’s not that I don’t take solace in those words. I do.

It’s just the measure of my heartache is that great.

And you know this. Every year you know this.

You are one of the precious few who know me this well.

So this ornament, made with my own careful hands, will whisper in my ear

"Just breathe." 






(In memory of Sarah Layne Wing 9/7/06 - 12/17/06)

Not this time. Not this year. Making U turns in the grieving process.

 On the 7th of September, every year, I open the box of yellow cake mix, stir in the oil and eggs, and then slowly and gently fill each paper cup with that thick pudding-like batter. As they bake, you can smell cake throughout the whole house. After they cool on the cooling racks, I carefully smooth the chocolate fudge frosting over top. A bowl of M&M’s waits patiently to be picked through. The blue ones are what I’m after. I place a single blue M&M in the middle of each cupcake, donning the symbol of her endearment, “blueberry.” It is her birthday after all. What’s a birthday without cupcakes?

I raise no decorations throughout the house. No presents are ever bought. Only letters are written. Notes from the kids; from siblings, cousins, and the friends she would’ve had, tucked away in helium balloons to send off to the sky in imagined hopes of her retrieving them. Then we eat the cupcakes.

The cupcakes that were meant for a little girl…

…a little girl that’s not. here.

Not here.

I’m a jealous mother. I want to hold and squeeze my blonde hair, blue eyed 8 year old girl. The one that would be turning into a little woman so fast before my eyes. The one that would be my niece’s sanity in the midst of being surrounded by boys. The one that would be teaching her younger sisters everything she knew, because... you know... she would know everything... Ah, I am so very jealous! It makes me angry. But mostly, it hurts. It hurts a lot.

This year will be 8 years. Why, after doing this for 7 years, am I coming to a point this year where I don’t want to do it? (I’m not sure I have an answer to that) I can’t promise I’ll feel like this next year, but for some reason, I just can’t do it this year. Not this time.

And that’s okay.

I’m not okay. (Don’t worry, I’m getting help for that.) But it’s okay that I do what needs to be done. If it’s going to be too much this year, then I call it off. This is part of my process. And I’m allowed that.

Sometimes in the midst of doing things consistently, you have to check yourself and make sure you are still okay with it. It’s okay, to be okay, with things that people deem weird. And it’s okay for you to not be okay, with things that people are expecting. You may get some push back, but it’s not about them. This is about allowing yourself to process your own grieving journey.

For me, this year it just feels like a slap in the face. I don’t know how I did it all the other years, but this year, my face already hurts just thinking about it. (literally and figuratively) I want to be able to just break down and cry without my whole family and the few close friends watching me. My closed doors have their freedom in that. Sarah’s siblings demanded to be able to release balloons still and that’s okay, I’m conceding for them. I need to allow them that because that’s also part of my job as their mother too. They still want to celebrate her birthday and I love them for that.

Obviously no one is safe from making “U turns” in their grieving process, no matter how long it’s been. This year has been an extra hard year for me and I’m making a lot of changes. I didn’t foresee me making changes here too, but it’s what feels right, right now. And I must follow it out. There will always be next year. I’m just glad I have a supportive family that keeps up with my change of weather, call it quirky, and love me anyway.


Not-so-Happy Birthday, my sweet Sarah. Your mother just simply misses you. 

Read her story here.

Read what we did last year for her birthday here. 

I Counted. 3 Months and 10 Days.

Yep. I counted. Ruth is 3 months and 10 days today. Exactly.

That number sticks out to me because that's how old Sarah was when she died, 7 years ago.

The milestones never stop when you're grieving. I thought for a moment that this would be the last time that I get to hold one of my babies, at this age, soaking in the feeling of holding that little body all over again. But then I retracted that thought and can safely assume I will probably do this to my grandchildren someday too.

3 months and 10 days. Forever etched into my memory.

Days like these are very bittersweet. I hold Ruth today and my heart breaks. I miss Sarah so much. I miss my baby. I go back to that awful day and remember holding her as I nursed her for the last time, and kissed her cheeks before leaving her to her nap. This day is a painful reminder of what I miss every day. But then I force myself forward and open my eyes to Ruth. This beautiful little girl that God has blessed me with. She's smiling so big and laughing. She talks to me with her little babbles. She reminds me so much of Sarah. I love her so much. This part of the process of grieving helps me to soak in these little things, not taking her for granted.

My eyes are wide open because of my suffering. This must be part of God's mercy because I value my awareness, but I wouldn't have it, if I didn't lose Sarah. That's a painful truth that I've had to give myself grace with. It's easy to blame myself, on a spiritual level, and say "God made this to happen because I needed to learn this. So this must be my fault." I did that with Dad (he died when I was 16) and then with Sarah. (aaaaaaand with any other crap that comes down our path)

It doesn't help. It's not true.

Because it's not

about

me.

So, on that note, I hold my baby tight being able to thank God for this day with her.

My Ruth. 

My Sarah. Read her story here. 

Satisfied: Last Dedication

Last Sunday, our family had our last babies dedicated. 

It was such a weird dynamic, standing together as our little family of 7 (secretly 8), in front of a body of believers that are still new to us. As we scrambled to gather our children to all stand nicely at our side so the church can concentrate on what was about to happen, I couldn't help but think of all we've been through as a family and all that we are presently going through. I kept thinking how this was the last dedication for our little unit.  

As I sit here and write about it, I'm remembering all the others. Isaiah's dedication was interesting because we were in a Lutheran church getting our baby dedicated and not baptized. Instead they anointed his head with oil and prayed over him. What a blessing he's been to us, having the mind and thought process that he has, all the theological discussions, I can't even count the times. He truly is a "man after God's own heart" (the meaning of Isaiah's name)

We didn't get a chance to dedicate Sarah before she died. But in a way, I don't grieve that part as much because her death was like the ultimate dedication. Of course, no where did I give my consent, but that's the beauty of it. The reminder that they are only on loan to us after all.  The way I am able to honor such a dedication is by sharing her story and giving that Love to people that need it with the utmost empathy only one that has gone through it can give.  What a "princess" she truly is. (the meaning of Sarah's name) 

Eve wouldn't let the pastor hold her during the prayer. She stayed in mommy's arms. Such raw emotions fighting the urge to hold her tight and never let her go, after losing Sarah. I had to commit to embracing God's control along with His Love at the same time. This little girl's arrival has stretched me in ways I didn't know I needed to be stretched, in ways I didn't see coming. But we were made new... again. We journeyed through our "new beginnings" with her arrival. (the meaning behind Eve's name) 

Teshura... oh Teshura. She let the pastor hold her, in all her fight and pain she went through, there is so much deep love inside of her, so deep, it's usually hard to tap into. ;) Again stretching me with my emotions, her trials only brought, and continue to bring, our young family that much closer together. What a true "gift of God" she really is. (the meaning of Teshura's name) 

Then there's Naomi and Ruth. They were dedicated together (last Sunday) and they have brought that much more healing to our family. I had certain emotional scars that these 2 surprises brought healing to. It will be interesting what they continue to bring to our family. Naomi lives up to her name, meaning "beautiful" and "pleasant" (most of the time). Of course, she looks exactly like me! Ha! And Ruth, there are several meanings to her name, but my favorites are "companion" and "friend". She is 2 months old now and I can't wait to see her personality blossom. But the ultimate favorite meaning of her name is "satisfied". 

For I am satisfied with all these babies that I have. I am overwhelmed with raising 5 of them, disciplining 5 of them, feeding 5 of them, schooling 5 of them, getting them to bed is almost comical as they each come with 5 hugs and 5 kisses and 5 drinks of water (assuming Ruth will follow suit when a little older). I know one day I will miss doing everything 5 times.  

When it comes to my babies, I am satisfied. 

the Wingdings

Today Marks 7 Years

I was up at 4am.

As I nursed Ruth I couldn't help but go back to all the memories of "that" morning... 7 years ago, today.

Sarah was stuck on her 4am feeding. I was trying to get her unstuck by letting her go back to sleep when she awoke at that time. She had gone several days without waking for that 4am feeding finally, but that morning... I'll never forget. She woke up at that 4am time, fussed a little and then went back to sleep. She didn't wake up again til 8am. (which was her normal morning feeding time) The last time I nursed her was at 11am when we arrived at Mom's house.

As I went through the days events, I laid there so early this morning, gladly, almost smiling over the fact that Ruth woke up at 4am to nurse. Of course, tears fell. But it was like I was able to do the thing I wished I had done that day. Once more. Last baby. Getting through this time, what a way to start the day.

It's been a mix of emotions because on one hand, I want to give myself up to it and just bawl my eyes out. But then on the other hand, I want to be numb to it. Hold it together and just get through. I'm not ashamed of my tears, I'm exhausted of my tears.

What do we do on days like today?

Whatever we want.

We work on whatever project we want to. We'll relax whenever we want. We basically let our hearts lead in the process. If we feel like doing something in particular we'll do it. I don't like running into people, so we'll steer clear of certain places.

Just trying to enjoy the blessings I have. A husband that loves me so much and 5 other children to take care of.

ALL my babies... Tesh, not so thrilled... 

Triggers

Like a snake, lurking around the corner waiting to attack, so is my apprehension about the coming week.

Every year it never fails, always pales... Christmas.

The garland I hung in October is already looking like clutter to me... 12 days before the holiday it celebrates.

Without thinking, my husband tells me, "maybe on the 17th we can bake cookies and have some family time."

...bake cookies... on the 17th...

That's what I was doing. That day. 7 years ago. When she slipped away from me, so silently.

The natural stresses of the holiday make it worse. The hustle and bustle was never my thing. And my grieving heart simply wants to be alone in calm.

Anything extra added to the plate, only feels that much more overwhelming.

Overwhelmed, I am.

"When my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the rock that is higher than I." Psalm 61:2

I saw a post on facebook today that said, "Healing rain.... wash over me!!"

That voice is not alone. Made me think of a song I clung to during those raw moments. It's one I still run to in times like this. As I listen to the words and the music, I can see myself lying down. Floating in calm waters underneath gloomy grey skies. My hair all spread out like a crown. I can feel the cool water underneath me and then slowly, drops of rain kiss my face.

I will be alright. Just having a bad day.



Side note: (for those who are wondering)
Ruth is doing well. She'll still nurse, even though I have to give her bottles also. I embrace that as my blessing.

Sarah's Golden Birthday

Another year has passed and Sarah would've turned 7 this year. I love taking my mind to imagine what life would be like, having her around now. Teaming up with Eve, giving their big brother a hard time. But then... it leaves me in a reality that hurts. I force myself to remember that she's safe and that the children I do have here still, are healthy.

For her Golden Birthday this year, I put together a book that tells some of her story, making it easier for the kids to understand that she is real, that she lived and still lives. It's another gift I'm able to give. I love teasing the children's thoughts of heaven and that reality. How powerful it is to have someone close, like a sister, or a cousin who is strolling with our King already, to help us understand the realness of it all.



Sarah's Story:

"Today there’s a birthday, that we must always remember,

for there’s a little girl who was born in September.

With blonde hair, and blue eyes, and chubby cheeks,

if you walked in her sight, you could hear her little squeaks.

She was a good little girl that liked to blow raspberries,

because of her blue nose, we called her Blueberry.

Her name is Sarah, Princess is what it means,

sometimes she still likes to dance in our dreams.

To take her to heaven, God knew it was right.

Our hearts take comfort that she’s in His sight.

She has no more owies, nor bumps, nor tears.

No more hurt, no more pain, and no more fears.

God took her away on a December day

so He could have her with Him to play.

How will we get to her? Some of the kids had ideas.

Will a helicopter hat do? Maybe really big shoes?

No, just like Sarah, an angel will come

 to deliver us from this earth we are on,

And send us to heaven to see everyone

And she’ll be waiting to say, “finally, you’ve come!”

3 months and 10 days is all she lived on this earth

But we still like to come here to celebrate her birth.

So for now, she would like us to stay happy for her,

so grab a napkin and a yummy cupcake that’s near.

For today, September 7^th is when we get to remember

this sweet little girl who was born in September. "

We make little pictures and letters for Sarah to put in the balloons to send up. 

Josh read the story to everyone.

We sang "Happy Birthday"

Then let our balloons go. 

We watch them until they are gone. 

Then eat cupcakes :) 

The girls hard at work making Sarah's stone look nice. 

the end result :) 

Daddy and Naomi. 

Recovering From Nightmares

Isaiah kissing Sarah.

After writing that last blog post, I have been receiving so many wonderful messages from people in response. People from all walks of life, encouraging me by sending their love and prayers. Some of you are walking with me in the very grief of our little Sarah. Some walk with their own grief of their own precious loved one. Some walk beside us, not having been through this experience themselves, but ever still remain faithful in love. Some having watched us as we went through losing Sarah and some new friends that just love on us, hearing of the trials we've gone through.

I just wanted to take a moment to say Thank you! Truly. Your love keeps bringing hopeful tears to my eyes. Hearing from certain people (having known us from the time of losing Sarah), once again, I'm taken back to those raw moments. But these moments aren't ones that ache so much, they are memories of simply being held by God.

If I left you with saying that I'm being reminded of "simply being held by God." I feel I would be doing a dis-service to you.... because I desire for you to understand what I mean by this.

All our family, our church family supported us so well when we were going through this traumatic experience. We were "held by God" by being served by "the body". That's ALL who have helped us in any way. Whether it was one thing that you did or many. ..

My husband and his dad during one of Sarah's birthdays.

I remember food being given to us. People coming to me just to lay beside me as I wouldn't move from my spot. People talking and being with my husband. I remember people taking care of our 2 year old. Pastors opening up their buildings to us for services, for prayer, for fellowship, for counseling. People coming to us just to stand in front of us, all to say, "I don't know what to say to you." People crying with us. A woman giving me cabbage for my drying milk in consequence of my baby being gone. Sarah's doctor encouraging us. I remember 6 months down the road being asked "How ARE you doing?" The hugs. The gifts. The cards. The little kids that were drawing me pictures of our whole family and writing me precious messages. The prayers. The space for grieving.

Grandma Lyn with Isaiah

Me and Samuel, my little buddy that helped me heal allowing me to hold another baby again.

Whether you did one or many of these things.... we felt God's hand upon us. We knew, by your love, that we had not been abandoned. You were the Body of Christ that well for us. Not all of you are from the same church building, but all of you banded together for the same cause, as the Body, to show love to a family that needed lifted. It brings tears to my eyes, even now as I write this, remembering those precious moments, because of what you did for us, that we were able to have those intimate moments with our King.




Today, as I have been receiving all your responses to this difficult time for us today, I am remembering the God, whom we serve, and why we serve Him. Your love, which can only truly come from Him, (whether you believe or not) gives me the hope that's going to get me through.



With all my heart, Thank you. May God bless you as you have blessed me.

Remembering My Nightmares Are Real

I just finished watching a movie.... it was supposed to be your average chick flick, or so I thought. Very quickly I realized that there was a familiar element to this drama... a baby had died. Within the first 10 minutes of the movie, it tells us of this history, but I kept watching, convinced that it was a one time "thing"? (sure it'd come up a little later, but lightly... right?) ...

wrong.

As the story unfolds, flashbacks occur, and I find myself wrapped in these scenes that I can't shut out. The main character had so many emotional problems surrounded by her baby's death. She kept flashing back with what happened, facing the present with people's ignorant accusations and hurtful conversations. She would lash back at them with blind hate, all because she refused to see anything or anyone outside of her. I know this. I know her hate. I know her grief. I know her wandering.

There was a scene where she was flashing back to her last moments with her baby girl. She was nursing and fell asleep. She awoke with her baby still on her chest, but to her dreadful surprise, her baby wasn't breathing. The scene showed her panic when she realized this and she desperately tried to get her to breathe. Then she came back to present time, carrying a guilt that she must've killed her baby by accident. I know her guilt. I know her suffocation.

There was another scene later where a doctor looked over the autopsy report, per her husband's request after he had learned of his wife's guilt, so she might finally be free of it. The doctor assured her with every trace of evidence, that she, in fact, did NOT kill her baby. She said there is always evidence of suffocation or smothering, and there was nothing, that's why they deemed it SIDS. This poor mother cried with great relief and heart ache all over again. I know her relief. I know her shredded heart.

The movie ended.

I turned the tv off with tears still in my eyes from bursts of crying. My husband, the only person in the whole wide world that knows the exact heart ache I feel, (with a sigh of pity that I stumbled on such a movie), takes my hand and kisses it.

I really should be in bed. It's really late. But I've been taken back to one of my most desperate times, and having trouble bouncing back to present day.

 It will be 7 years this year. Her birthday's around the corner. My heart, right now, aches as if it's only been 7 weeks, maybe even 7 days. There's just some things you never forget. The way she smiled. The way she felt. The love. That last moment with her. The shock. The trauma. The lost-ness. The screaming. The endless tears. The hate. The denial. The guilt. The relief. The wandering.

Not many know this, but I'm still working on separating Christmas and her death. There's still things I work through that keep my journey continuing. To learn how to live with the grief.

7 years. The world thinks that it's been enough time for me to move on and breathe easy. There's no truth in that. I was reassured tonight that I can be brought back "there" in a second. and I'm still sitting here trying to catch my breath.

No Bride is Worthless

Ah, yes, another birthday. I have cupcakes ready to make this morning in memory of a blonde hair, blue eyed little girl that should be running through my house, proclaiming that she is 6 years old today! The siblings are making birthday cards, in anticipation of folding them ever so tightly to stick into a helium balloon, all to let them go in the sky, heavenward, in hopes that Sarah will know that not only is she loved by her Creator, but that she is loved by us, here, still on earth.... with earthly sorrows, seeking out true human joy that one day, we will be with her in heaven.

A promise made by a King.

Not just any king. The King of kings, our Creator, Savior, our Bridegroom.

So many things have been running through my mind lately. I don't even know how to organize it all in one blog post... but as always, I'll do my best.

I've been thinking....
I wish I could go back to being myself.
What is myself?
How to reach my retreat.
Why am I having such a hard time feeling a self worth?
Why am I letting a situation define who I've been these past several months?
Truths about what true church is.
Resenting a lot of practice of modern churches.
Homeschooling my children.
How do I teach my children what the Scriptures say, and how to show love to people, no matter the different cultures and beliefs. .
True evangelism.
Missing my dad, how I wish I could pick at his brain right now.
Feeling for the first time, really, that I'm "fatherless". Something I've always been able to overcome in the past.
Missing old friends that I so wish I could talk to about all this.

All these things and more... have been wandering in the desert of my brain. Some of them, through reading and studying are coming clear. But there are some that I'm still chewing endlessly on. As if, I'm not to be chewing on them at all....

I like to think about things until I come to a resolve about it. If a new thought comes into my mind, I go into this hyper-drive, where I think and think, I go into my "moral warehouse", I study and read, and think some more. I don't stop until I've come to some kind of conclusion as to what I believe about that given subject.

All this to say.. I've been on this quest, this study. I've been swimming in books, including studying the Bible and what other theologians have to say about it. I've been in this deep thought process, that makes my "dark horse" side very visible, as soon as you bring these subjects up.

A part of me enjoys being in such a study mode. It brings my focus off this earthly form, into the spiritual realm, but that's where it gets tricky. Opening up these doors, always gives God the chance to truly speak to me and we become closer, but at the same time, it gives satan a chance to tempt me further into a spiral of worthlessness.

Let me bring you some of my thought process... these are, of course, only highlights... I could probably write many books on my explanations of how I got to these conclusions.. of course, there is a Book already written :)

My self worth. I quickly believe that I am worthless, and I don't know why I've become so gullible, but I know I need to stop thinking these things and hold to verses that I can cling to. I am of true value to Him, my Beloved. I need to remember our engagement, our communion. God has given me certain gifts that enable me to worship Him and show love to others. Those gifts are my retreats. I need to remember this as well.

Church. Fellow believers coming together to study together, pray together, play together, practice together, sing together, work together, support and encourage each other, hold each other accountable. These to me are the essentials. You can't take one out.
There is a modern mode, that seems to be creeping through America, that is taking away the play or being legalistic about it's practice, or legalistic about it's singing. Where there's little accountability, little support, if any at all. Where there's concern for numbers, instead of concern for the individual. Where pastors and leader are being used as crutches for parents and it's allowed. Where the exhaustion of ministry is about advertisement and events and programs, and not about staying up through the night with a family that just lost a their child, or about coming together to feed the family that is working so hard, but can't make ends meet, or sitting with the elderly that have been abandoned by their family, or sitting in that parking lot trying to convince a precious teenager that she is worth so much more and that she shouldn't commit suicide. This modern mode is expecting people to come to them, and it's not going out to the people that need the hope of Jesus and after showing them Jesus, inviting them to come and fellowship.

I could go on and on. Trust me.

I'm in the middle of reading this book called The Chosen. It's about 2 different kinds of Jewish families. I like reading articles and literature from the Jewish perspective cause they always seem to pick up on something that I didn't think about. I take them with a grain of salt because I am, after all, a Christian, but the culture and their practice is so fascinating to me. There is some stuff that isn't in our Bibles that they practice, that I'm careful to find, but when you look at the stuff that is in our same Bible, I'm convicted of my own practice. How we raise and teach our children. How we guard ourselves, our marriages, our friendships. I want to study the Bible like they study their Torah. I want to teach my children diligently, talk of the Scriptures, like they teach their children and talk of it and debate it out. Just because I am not a Jew, doesn't mean that we shouldn't learn from them. Any Christian should realize that our Christianity has strong Jewish backgrounds, whether you're a Jew or not. Their culture holds a certain key to deeper understanding what Jesus was talking about when he'd say certain things to the Jews, the very Words that we study for our own lives. For example: Communion. Some don't know this, but when Jews, (in that time, and possibly still practiced today, but I'm not sure) would agree to be married, basically a proposal, they'd take a cup of wine, and both would drink from it, sealing their engagement. They would be considered a husband and wife, except for the "physical aspect"(that doesn't happen until the end when the feast takes place). It was a seal of a commitment, a seal of a covenant. When Jesus spoke about our relationship, he would always use a bridegroom and a bride as an example. We are the bride. When He sat down with His disciples, He broke bread, for His earthly body was to be sacrificed and then dipped that sacrifice into the shared cup of wine to resemble the covenant between Him and them. He explained this covenant is for all who believe. He wanted us to do this, and to do it often, to remember that we are, through His sacrifice and by our agreement of drinking from such a cup, His betrothed. We are His bride, His beloved.

" I am my Beloved's and my Beloved is mine." Song of Solomon 6:3a

No bride is worthless.

Full Sized Preemie??

Ahhh.... why do I ever think that I'll ever have a normal baby again? Isaiah was my only "normal" infant. He nursed, he slept, he grew, and was perfect. He was only 3 days early, and his birth weight was 6lbs. 12oz.

Sarah was normal and gained weight better than Isaiah, but then we lost her to SIDS. and that was one of the most confusing parts about it. Her birth weight was 6 lbs. 6 oz.

Eve was born a whole month early, and came out nursing well, but had premature apnea. That was terrifying. Her birth weight was 6lb. 12 oz.  (full sized preemie)

Tesh.... lol..... She was the worst of them all. Failure to thrive, MSPI, dysphagia, craniosynostosis (yes I can still spell that correctly) Her birth weight was 6 lbs. 6 oz. (full sized preemie)

Naomi, Birth weight 6 lbs. 4oz. And now weighs 5lbs. 5oz. and we haven't been able to get her to go back up yet. I'm already hearing the words, "She's nursing like a preemie" from my midwife. Good thing I kept all my "gear" from Tesh's issues cause it's all coming back out. 

I'm looking at this situation as a whole, and thinking.... "my body only allows my babies to be a certain size.... whether they are ready or not." It makes me want to fire my body. That's right. Be done having babies. It breaks my heart, but to keep doing this? having these babies that need preemie attention? and it's getting very difficult having babies like this, with all the kids I've stocked up. lol

It's weird because it was like Sarah was more this event, this pivotal time where life was way less complicated (within our small family unit), and then after she died, it was like, "full speed ahead" and it hasn't stopped.

I'm not complaining too much about Naomi's issues, I know they are small. She is still alive and these issues will resolve with lots of hard work (tired sigh) but there's this instant "defeated" feeling, as a mom, as a baby making vessel.

I find myself asking God, "Why am I doing this again?" "What is the lesson in all this?" "Have I not persevered enough?" "Have I not served You well enough?" "What shall I learn to make this situation go away?" "How long this time?" "Is it in Your plan for us to have rest?"

Then I come around... and think about all the people we've been able to reach, or help, because of all the chaos we've been through. Most of you know this, but my husband is a Youth Pastor, some day aspiring to plant a church.

hmmmmm..... that might be why. Being in the ministry has it's challenges all by itself. But it's our survival through these things, that's made our ministry strong and relational.

Why am I doing this again? cause He trusts me.
What is the lesson in all this? patience, endurance, hope, etc....
Have I not persevered enough? my guess is, "no"
Have I not served You well enough? that's why He trusts me... my guess
What shall I learn to make this situation go away? lol.... yep
How long this time? As long as it takes for me to make His child healthy and ready for His ministry.
Is it in Your plan for us to have rest? He does.... I'm just complaining.

Why am I doing this again? cause He trusts me.

Sarah's Angel Day.... #5

Me and sleeping Sarah in my arms

wow..... I underestimated my emotions today. I'm chalking it up to being pregnant, which this would be my first time dealing with pregnant hormones and getting through this crappy weekend, but I'm having a more depressing time than I thought I would. Maybe it was always easier cause this day would land on another day other than a weekend day? Maybe cause no body is puking their guts up this year, which seems to be the case every year, gearing my mind away from the terrible memories?
For those of you who don't know, or possibly don't remember, Sarah died on the Sunday afternoon, the week before Christmas. So not only is the day December 17 ringing in my ears, but the motions of going through a Sunday afternoon with family after church, one week before Christmas, is equally, if not more, painful for me.
The hubs and I got into this small stupid argument and it was like knives to my heart, even though it was over something so ridiculous, that we would have normally ended up laughing at within 2 mins., especially since in my frustration, a whole heap of papers fell as I'm trying to find what we were looking for, which after all the papers fell, there laid the folder we were seeking. I found myself being completely stubborn in my irritation and anger, and plummeting into even more of a depression. Of course, later we mended, which made things better, but my stubbornness is really getting the better of me. I've ignored the phone today, cause I don't want to speak. I know.... kailan? not wanting to speak? Of course, I'll write, text, email, FB, whatever,... but speaking? There's nothing to say without crying.... do I feel like crying to people right now? Or having them hear my quivering voice? nope. I'm sure they know I'm crying anyway, so I ignore the everpresent ringing of the phone from all my family and friends that are trying to contact us on this "day of days"...

which I will add... Thank you, all of you... even the name on the caller ID means a lot to me, knowing that you are thinking of us and of our grief together over Sarah.

I can't help but think about the "loss" part of Sarah right now. My mind is consumed in my grief at the moment. I don't want to do anything, but of course, I have to. I look at my kids and can't help but think about that day. A day much like today, when we were so unaware of what was about to happen. How are whole world was about to change. How naive we were that "it could happen to us".

Is ignorance bliss? Is awareness a gift? I know the answers, truly, but can't seem to feel them right now. My ruthless attitude of stubbornness is making me defiant from seeking the Truth in that she is safe in His arms.

I'm waiting for that slow motion turning of my heart to let go of meditating on the pain.  

You know when people don't look you in the eye cause they are angry and you take their face and force them to look at you? I can't stand my face being touched in such a way. That's a quick way to get me to push away even farther. He knows I hate it when people do that more than anything. However, I can feel His fingertips on my chin, but He's not forcing me to move, I have to let Him. I have to do my part in letting His soft touch of His fingertips comfort me knowing He truly wants to look into my eyes cause He loves me.

Why do I have to be so stubborn?!

I'll get there..... probably after I'm done publishing this post, having that weight off of me. it helps.

Tesh's 18 mos. post op check up :)

.... AND I'm officially in my third trimester, that puts me at 28 weeks today! Woohoo.. so far so good. I have an ultra sound around the corner that'll hopefully ensure no cranio for this one! And we got to check on that placenta, which I'm optimistic about. :) Anywho,

Tesh: She turned 2 in October and her post op appt. (being 18 mos. post op) was yesterday.
      As we were driving out of town, it was so foggy, actually, it was foggy the whole day, but sitting in a car, the fog was ever present. I was taken back for a moment to the time when we drove away from the Cavanaugh house after Dad died when I was 16. It was foggy, much like this. As we coasted along the interstate, we saw these circular set of lights in the sky... We all gazed at them in question as to what they were. As we drew closer, we realized they were new street lights. :) We all had to laugh about it, even though it had been only hours after I gazed upon my Dad's lifeless body. That moment is etched in my memory, so as we drive past all those circular set of lights in the fog, I can't help myself but to be drawn back to the fresh air of the "new normal".
      I was very optimistic about this appt...... for once! I knew that Tesh was healthy, and that her head had been doing so well, so far, that why would it go wrong now? right? I tried to hold tight to this logic, going against my nature of pessimism.
We arrived to the hospital, ...late, of course.... and went straight to the Xray appt. first. I was saddened at the reality that I couldn't go with Tesh inside the xray room, for obvious pregnant reasons, so I had to keep her in her father's arms. Which I think she kind of preferred, since she's been attached to him lately... .. trader... :) I could hear her screaming, as I knew they were strapping her down, and... if you know Tesh.... you know that's a big "no no". She really doesn't like being here.

not happy :( Her lip is out and everything.

We got to the NS's office. Dr. M felt her head, and sat in silence.... for what seemed like forever, but it was probably about 20 seconds, in reality. Of course, this is plenty of time for me to think of a million questions, "what is he thinking?" " what is he gonna say to me?" "is he trying to find words to let me down gently?" "is it that bad?" "is it not that bad and he's not wanting to freak me out?" "He's freaking me out!" "SAY SOMETHING!!"
   Then he starts talking, with a smirk on his face. He explains that she'll always have these "soft spots", we don't need to be worried about her playing with having those soft spots, and he'll see us back in 2 years. What?! All that silence for that?.... well, I guess I'll take it. The weight melted off quickly as I realized what he was saying. I had to hear it still though, I asked, "So the xrays look good then?" He replies with a smile" Yes, they look very good. She is doing very well, especially for being only 18 mos. post op." Phew!!! What a relief, not only is she doing well, but better than well. I'll take that too!!

See the grey in the middle of the top of her skull? That's the "gel" bone still, not fused bone :)

Here's her lumpy profile. Forever lumpy... :)

 Then he starts small talk, which I thought was weird. Of all of a sudden, he's asking Isaiah where he's taking daddy to lunch. What neurosurgeon has time to have small talk like this? He must be having a good day himself... later it made us wonder if he sat in silence like that just to get a bit of a rise out of us, since it was such good news... you gotta think, that's probably the most entertainment he gets out of his job, since it's normally so serious. :)

University of Iowa Hospital Skywalk

     We left, Josh and I looking at eachother in relief, giving high fives....(yes, we do that still) and enjoying the rest of the day, knowing that at this moment everyone in our family is safe. ..... safe. What a wonderful feeling. One of those "heaven" moments. .....safe. No worries, enjoying life to it's fullest.... safe.

    





Of course, we stopped at Huhot.... Did you know there's a Huhot in Iowa City? We do!! It's on my top favorite restaurants list.

Isaiah took this picture. Me and Eve.

Eve, actually, took this one. She did very well!

Sisters lovin on eachother!

All of them lovin on eachother. This captures them perfectly.

Me and Eve being serious. Isaiah and Tesh being goofy.

Ok, fine! Let's all by goofy!!

Then, we stopped in the Amana's, which we love to do. Our normal places at the "The Chocolate Haus" and the wineries, trying different wines, and/or buying cheese and crackers.
       All in all, it was a great long day with great family time. The kids were really good during the whole thing. Yes, we cart all our kids around when we go to appt.s. It's actually really good for them. They like coming along and Isaiah learns so much and asks all these questions, stealing the hearts of every nurse he comes across. :)

If you've been following my blog at all, I'm sure you've read the stress around us. The family I talked about last post is still breathing through their "new normal".

Also, a very close friend of mine, recently had a miscarriage, that broke my heart. This was the very woman that fell to my feet when we lost Sarah, and now, I was holding her. It was her moment of brokenness and at first, she didn't want me around because of my belly (which I couldn't blame her although it broke my heart not to be able to be there for her) , but later, she allowed me to be there with her, she knew I loved her and that I knew her pain. She, too, is breathing....

This Saturday, December 17th, is Sarah's 5th "Angel Day". Missing her will never subside. 

I count my blessings. Oh, Lord, I count the blessings. Embracing Your plan can be so hard sometimes, but I am thankful for moments of Your peace and calm....
.....so for the Wings this Christmas, I am reminded that we are safe....

So Much to Say...

First of all, these anniversaries that we have just passed have put me in a whirlwind. I quickly chalk it up to being in my first trimester (which I'm just reaching out of) while dealing with all these emotions, but for some reason, it's hit me a little more about Dad's death anniversary.

Although September is my favorite month, hands down. It comes with all these bittersweets.

Sept. 2nd, my Dad has been gone for 11 years!! I can't believe it's been that long. I missed him more lately. It could be my hormones talking, but this pregnancy has brought fear and excitement to me with the VBAC decision. AND Tesh has been doing so well, and Sarah is still missed, and my babies are growing up and one can't help but see their family grow and know that Dad isn't here to experience it with us. I know... he can probably see us now.. but it's just not the same. He isn't here to hug me and hold me in his arms and bring reason to me. :) He isn't here to show my kids all there is to know about "THE GARAGE" especially during "A STORM"  I want my kids to know their Grandpa Joe and they only know him through my stories. It just makes me sad... I miss him.

Then there's my beautiful angel named Sarah. She would've been 5 on Sept. 7th.
5! I can't believe she'd be that old already. The baby that all I can see as a baby would've been 5... I would've started Kindergarten with her, and I would've brushed through her long blonde curls, looked in her bright blue eyes, telling her, as well as Evey, that they are such beautiful princesses.
Isaiah had been having these "sad moments" this year about Sarah. Asking more questions and fearing certain things. It seems the older he gets, the more aware he is about losing his little sister. It doesn't effect Eve as much, of course, but Isaiah.... I think a part of him remembers. 





And then there is Eve. My little "princess" that reminds me everyday that she is my princess. She will be 4 on Sept. 22nd. She is growing into this beautiful little lady.

And Tesh is doing so well. Her head is looking great, and she is smart! AND funny! She's a riot, always trying to make us laugh. And I've been so proud of her social bug coming out, after she lost it with the surgery, she's opening up to a few more people.... other than Mom and Dad. :)

This pregnancy has been going great! No more scares so far and I've been so encouraged by many women that I can accomplish this VBAC. I'm not saying it's 100%, cause there's always that chance, but I feel empowered, knowing that God has designed my body to take care of my baby and deliver this baby. I'm not nearly as scared as I was when I blogged last, thanks to the all the "ICAN" support. I'm doing things to encourage a healthy natural pregnancy and delivery, and am excited about it now. Of course, it helps that I'm not nearly as sick as I was before either. The sickness is lifting! and I can really enjoy my growing belly, which that's one of my favorite parts about being pregnant. :)

So there's my bittersweet month as I know it. Enjoy the pics of my kiddos and Sarah's 5th Birthday Celebration this year.

Watching the balloons go up!








Eating cupcakes :)






Grandma Lyn and Isaiah having a sad moment together.

Couldn't help but take a picture of these three sitting together on the bench.






Our goofy Tesh!







No one would ever know anything was ever wrong with her when she was a baby. She's been doing soooo well.

And Homeschooling continues on.....

Eve is doing some pre-school work,

while Isaiah works on his 1st grade writing.

Daddy's teaching science. He was explaining how, "We are like baking soda, and God's love is like the vinegar. When we have Jesus in our hearts and we show God's love, like our experiment, God's love grows for all the world to see."

They thought it was pretty cool :)