Birthday Party at a Cemetery

Regardless of my bed rest state, I was bound and determined to get out and celebrate Sarah's first birthday. It was very bitter sweet. To celebrate something in Sarah's name was a sweet honor, but to go to her grave for it, was a bitter reminder. We had a headstone, with her name and her footprints on it. We set up a picture, just for the occasion, so we could see her face. It gives you that sick feeling everytime you come upon the grave of your daughter. Also, knowing full well, that "she" is not really "there". She is in paradise. It was a beautiful day. Sun shining, everything so colorful, you can even see that in the background of this photo. Beautiful.
We had Isaiah color a piece of paper for Sarah's birthday. Daddy and he went into the store, Isaiah watched as the balloon person, got his picture small enough to fit in the balloon. He picked the color blue for her and a pink one for him. He was very excited to give his little sister a present. To be able to "send it to heaven." We went to the cemetery in Altoona. We had gotten a little cake with a "1" candle on it. We lit the candle, sang "Happy Birthday", let Isaiah blow it out. and then we had him send off his balloon. As we watched this balloon slowly float up "to heaven" I even found myself in a child-like state, waiting for Sarah to receive it. We all watched until we couldn't see it anymore. When Isaiah said that he couldn't see it anymore, we said, "Well, that's because Sarah has it now."









I cried the whole time, of course. My aches of the present pregnancy melted away, as I relished in my memory of Sarah. We felt like a whole family again for that moment. We took lots of family pictures. Josh and I watched Isaiah play in one of his new "playgrounds". He would check out all the other headstones, seeing others that were from little kids. We got to tell him, once more about Grandpa Joe, (whose headstone was right next to Sarah's) and how they were together. I sense Isaiah gets jealous sometimes, hearing about them being up there, and him not.

But I just tell him that God decides when he will go to heaven, and that the point is, is that we will be together again.

Bed Rest

Oh, bed rest. It actually wasn't so bad at first, but with the medicine, and Isaiah acting up, that part was hard. Isaiah turned into those "Nanny 911" kids, and my mom can vouch for that. This picture is a good moment though. We have our "babies" in our bellies. (yes, Isaiah, put another one in my shirt, as he did his) The medicine mad me jittery and it was hard to sleep. I was nervous in the hospital. I believe I was only there overnight. My doctors and midwives were with me and letting me know that things look good. I remember one of the midwives, Susan, came to see me and gave me this deep hug, cause she knew my desperation of not wanting to do this, deliver a pre-mature infant, watching her fight for her life, not knowing for sure if she will be ok. But the doctor's ensured me that my chances for a healthy baby in the end are very good, after all I was 33 weeks, and was just looking at some good time in the NICU if I did deliver. I went to the hospital one other time also, about 5 or 6 days later, cause the medicine stopped working. Then they put me on different medicine. I'm more of a naturalist so you can imagine how terribly fond I was of all the medicine being put into my body, and then into my baby. Not a happy camper.

We talked with a NICU nurse, to prepare ourselves for the possibilities of delivering early. She was very nice. We were able to share our story to her. We learned that she was grieving a son who had passes away at an older age. She told us she needed to hear our story, and to see us, that we had peace enough to say, "God is still good." gave her that sense of fellowship that one has when surrounded my "family" that are like-minded. Sharing eachother's loads.... (there is always a reason for everything:)

I remember feeling sick every time we had to go to the hospital, thinking "this is it!" and still being scared to death of having an infant again. I felt shameful for thinking such things. But we'd go home empty handed. I remember on time, we went home before midnight, and Isaiah was staying over at Brandy's and they were just going to keep him overnight. I was having such a hard time being without him, and I never had been overnight without him after Sarah's passing... until this occasion. I remember crying so hysterically, sitting in the car still, in the driveway, back home. and Isaiah was gone. I don't know what came over me. I felt childless, altogether. No Sarah, No Isaiah, No baby Eve. My hands were completely empty. I begged Josh at midnight in that driveway to go to (25 min. away) Colfax, and bring him back home. I'm sure Brandy was a little confused at this, but everyone, I'm sure, didn't even try to lift a finger to me for that. They could appreciate it, I think. But I didn't care. I went into the house, to get back on my couch, while Josh picked up that little sleeping boy of ours. When he came back, I held my big 2 1/2 year old, like a baby. and cried some more, but took a deep breath of relief, that this was my proof that I was not childless. I still had my son. I wept bitter tears for Sarah once again, guilty tears for Eve, and relieved tears for Isaiah. I was a mess.
At this point my Jesus was the only one who could consol me. As I laid my head on my pillow, I imagined it was His chest. (that process was very familiar to me)

Pushing Everyone Away

I remember the bigger I got, and the closer I got to my due date, the more of a mess I became. We are talking by the beginning of my last trimester, things got messy. I felt suffocated with horror. I was thinking about Sarah, constantly, still pleading to have her back. I couldn't accept her death just yet. So much anxiety over having this next one overwhelmed me. I hadn't cleaned out Sarah's crib yet. We had kept it up, especially because there was no point to taking it down when we would be just putting it right back up for Eve. Over the months I had collected things of either Sarah's or things that people had made for her memory, or things that reminded me of her. Whenever I got so upset, I would just go to that crib and be surrounded by stuff that was Sarah's, breathing in every last scent. As my anxiety grew worse, I started pushing everyone away. There were only a handful of people I would let near me. My mom was one of them. She could relate to me in a way very few people could because we had grieved such a great loss together before...... Dad. Her husband, my daddy. I know it's not the same, but what was so healing about our relationship was the fact that she was more than comfortable to talk about Sarah and acknowledge the fact that this new baby is a very hard thing to endeavor. Like this picture, she would rub my belly, so mother-like, and say, "ooohhhh, kailan." and start to cry.
I can't explain all the weight of the anxieties, but I can say that God taught me how to breathe through it. He showed me mercy....
I remember pushing everyone away, to the point I barely went out of my house, cause I was so distraught with anxiety. In that time, I was terrified of what kind of mother I was going to be to Eve. Would I love her, even though she is not Sarah? Will I be scared to even look at her, because she does or doesn't look like Sarah? How will I have the courage to nurse this new infant, when all I could think about is that I was cut off from the last one. Will I ever sleep? Will she keep breathing? Even when I'm not looking? Will she leave me too? Will Isaiah remember he has two sisters and not combine both of the babies?

As I unfold my story for you, I will answer those questions.
All I knew at that point was that I needed space because I couldn't breathe, and I needed to take a time out, and allow time to be with my Father. I knew that if I didn't take care of myself, then I wasn't taking care of my baby. I knew that if I kept going this way, that I might go into labor soon. So I took time, my husband right by my side, and just let things be.

but, of course, as most of you know. Maybe a week after I decided my time-out, I went into pre-term labor at 33 weeks....

Eve - new beginnings

On February 10th of 2007, almost 2 months after Sarah died, we found out we were pregnant again. I remember pleading with God, to make me pregnant again, so I had hope that my hands would be full, once again. Not to replace Sarah, but to fill my hands. My husband and I do not get pregnant THAT easily, so when I saw that positive test, I was surprised and relieved. It helped me to breathe a little easier, knowing that another bundle is coming. But, of course, it brought on a new wave of emotions that I don't think anyone is ever ready for when you've gone through losing a baby. I remember, it had been 10 weeks after Sarah died, that the medical examiner called and told me that officially, her case was being closed and the death certificate was ready for pick-up. Those 10 weeks were the longest 10 weeks. I remember having guilt, did I do something wrong? Did I actually do something, that resulted in my baby's death? Was it the hemangiomas? Did I neglect something? or Did I not do anything at all, it was just the way it was supposed to happen for her? Not knowing, drove me crazy.
She said... " sudden unexplainable infant death" SIDS! I knew that there was a big possibility that it would result to that, but to hear it. It definitely vindicated that I didn't actually do or necessarily neglect anything, but SIDS, in and of itself, is a big question. There are all these ideas and theory, but none of them hold water. I'm not sure God wants us to know. I think mainly because, at this point, it doesn't matter. It makes no difference. Knowing the how, does not reverse the what, and both produce the why, which is essential to healing. My only peace was knowing that God had the why. The why does not just come to you, you have to seek it out, just like you have to seek God. We had lots of why's cause we were looking for them.
This is a page from the scrap book that I put together within several weeks after Sarah's death. Scrap booking was very healing, it was one way to honor her life. I have pictures, sayings, verses, memories... whatever I wanted. I still look at it today, and think, "how in the world..."

(click on the picture and you can see it bigger and clearer)

When I got that call about the officiality of it being SIDS, I was so distraught. I was alone at home, not able to breathe. I cried so hard, because I felt that even though it was final, it wasn't. It's hard for anyone to accept an unexplainable death. What do you embrace? I started spotting later that day, and Josh came home and we went to the hospital to do an ultrasound to make sure everything was alright. Our #3 was fine, and I learned very quickly that my out-of-control emotions were going to effect my body, and this pregnancy. My tears never stopped that day, but the Doctor that evaluated my ultrasound was a good christian woman, that poured her love out to us that day. We were able to, once again, share our story.
Why # 29 ..... by that day....
We found out later that it was a girl, and came upon the name Eve. For new beginnings. She represented us moving forward , breathing a fresh way, with our rekindled source.

Hosea 11:8b " All My compassions are kindled..." we are the candle He uses, to shine His light.

For the Moments I Can't Sleep

Yeah,.... it's just early for me. Once in a while, I'm sure some of you can relate, I just wake up, ridiculously early and can't go back to sleep. For me, I think of Sarah, and songs run through my mind. Songs that help me through dealing with Sarah, songs that are healing.
I love to sing, and I love to write songs, so automatically I think, "I just need to get up, I'm up for a reason. ... I'll write." Before I get up though, a fresh song comes into my mind, and when that happens, any writer just scrambles for paper to write it down before it's forgotten. So I get up, quickly, and write His song. I try to put myself in check, cause I have this tendency to take the credit, for something my hands wrote, when it's the Spirit who is working in me, giving me the words to write. So it's His song.
Well I did it again this morning. Christmas Eve. It's a praise song, about standing on your crippled legs, still serving our King. I have every earthly excuse to just give up, and sleep my life away, but I serve a Great King. And He has given me strength that only He can give. So I can stand on my crippled legs, beating the odds, cause I have a Savior and Tower that is mightier than this world. You know how I know that I can stand, because that is only a sliver of what my Jesus did for me. Before He was crucified, while His flesh was torn from scourging and beatings, He bore His cross..... with us in mind.....
We are called to do the same. No matter what, I will serve my King.
If you can't bare your cross when you are beaten, how then are you going to carry your cross, when you are scourged.
Think of today as practice for greater things to come, cause your King is calling you to do His work, and you know what that means.

Listening to the Spirit Speak

I was once told that in ancient Jewish culture ( not to say that they don't do it today) that if there was a death, friends and family would go to their house and sit with them..... just sit.
If the grieved one talked, then the friends and family would talk. If the person wanted to just sit, though, they all would just sit. ... in silence. I know for some people today, that's hard, but truly, silence is so soothing to one that has just lost someone so close. There are no words that any man can say to make ... it ... better, or make it ... ok.
I hated it when people would hug me and say, "It'll be ok" .... honestly I wanted to smack them. No, I'm not proud of that feeling, but I'm being honest. Not that I'm holding a grudge against any of you for saying that, if you did, cause honestly I don't remember who would say it to us. Anyway, define ok.... feeling well.. doing fine.... at that time, that is the last thing I wanted to hear or feel, for that matter. Especially from someone who has no idea how I'm feeling. It's suffocating, really.

If you noticed in my story about Sarah, the people that I remember making it such a beautiful moment, that day in the hospital, were people that didn't say much TO US. They spoke FOR US..... , let me elaborate. Our pastors, they read scripture... the only words that we could truly hear at that time, the only words that were going to enable us to heal. The Pattersons, they prayed over us, for our marriage, our family. Our friends, Marc and El, they wept with us, holding us. That's what made it even slightly bearable. The fact is, is that we had such spiritual fellowship, and the only words that were spoken were scripture, prayer, and the sound of weeping. I remember when we got back to mom's house, after being at the hospital for hours, going straight to that very bed, my little girl left me. I planted myself there. If anyone wanted to see me, they had to come and sit with me on that bed. I remember I was laying there and Brandy came in and laid right beside me, and that's all she did. We cried, just she bearly said anything. That was a beautiful moment.
Have you ever felt like you didn't know what to say to someone who has lost such a loved one? That's the Spirit trying to tell you to be silent, He has given you no words to speak, cause there are none. What do you say to a mother who has lost a child .... 'it'll be ok? " NO,
if you say anything at all,

May His Words come out of your mouth.... Luke 20:36, "for neither can they die anymore, for they are like angels, and they are children of God...."
May you know the scripture so well that you respect Philippians 4:7, "and peace of God, which transcends all comprehension, shall guard your heart and your minds in Christ Jesus. "

Sometimes people would come up to us, stand in front of us, and say, " I don't know what to say.." believe it or not,.... that also, was a breath of fresh air.

the Final Ceremony

This is actually a picture several months after Sarah's Funeral, but I wanted to take you here so you could see where her body dwells. The ceremony was beautiful. White flowers, for purity. White flowers everywhere. She was dressed in a blue Christmas gift dress, that I had received prior to her death. Worn by no one else. My twin brothers Seth and Noah were her pallbearers. That was hard.... only needing two, for such a small coffin. My husband Joshua spoke his first sermon in the ceremony, that he had actually written a week prior, not knowing that he would need to use it sooner, rather than tucking it for later use when he becomes a pastor himself. It was entitled,"Contentment in the Coming Storm" I haven't actually watched the video, but I believe we have it. Just ask and I'll let you see it. Anyway, I was so proud of him, he spoke the truth, and learned how to stand on his crippled legs, ... I am honored to be his wife.
The ceremony at the cemetery was frightening. I remember not wanting to get out of the limo to finalize this. A part of me wanted to make, even this, last... cause that meant that I stayed close to the time that she was alive. Sure I wanted to heal, but I more wanted my baby back. I just couldn't accept her death. I remember sitting in those chairs that have those coverings on them, reserved for the closest members of the family. It was December and their was no snow yet. That part was perfect. It was cold, but there was no snow or ice to worry about. I sat there, I know I listened at the time, but can't remember quite what the pastor said right now, but there is one thing I do remember. My face hurt from all the crying, it was swollen, I'm sure I didn't even look like myself. The cold wind brushed against my face, as if the Spirit was drying my tears. I took a breath. I looked at that coffin, with all those pretty white flowers. That same wind touched my face again, I took another breath. Each time I was going down in my despair, that wind wisped against my face, and I took another breath. Some people think that God's healing just comes miraculously upon them, like BOOM, "your healed!" it's not true, not with grieving anyway. With sin, I believe that Jesus has already healed you, you just have to have that BOOM moment in order to realize that, and embrace the way He originally made you. It's a cross you will bear, but you will bear it, cause you are a child of God.
Back to the grieving part, though, you have to take it breath to breath. You have to realize that He is breathing for you. That's where the healing begins. That's all you are asked to do. Not to make a spectacle of how well you are doing. Not to smile every time someone sees you, masking your true feelings. If you have the strength and the urge to smile, smile. If it's walking, walk. If it's talking, talk. If it's sitting, sit. If it's crying, cry. If it's only to breath, then just breath. All these things God gave us because He thinks that it's beautiful. He made us this way for a reason. These are gifts. You just have to realize that they are, and embrace them. Let it be. Amen. Do you know what Amen means? I have 2 versions. I've heard people say it means, "I agree" or another is " Let it be" . The Sabbath is about healing, doing nothing, but sitting and breathing and taking in the healing that only the Spirit can do. Once a week. Just healing from life's trials. If you do not feel you are healing, I ask you, are you taking the time to be with your Savior, with your Redeemer, with your Healer? To find comfort in His Words, to know that He is God, to let the Spirit breathe in you? I'm still working on it, but I know that because I am taking that time, I am healing. (this pic is me breathing several days after she died)

May you be the creation that God has made in the image of Himself. Just as Jesus walked, talked, sat, cried, breathed, so you may find that freedom of doing so. May you take the time to realize how truly precious you are to Him who loves you. So precious, in fact, that sometimes
(and definitely, once a week, Sabbath) all He asks of us is to breathe.