Ok so this post may or may not make sense-- but let me try...
Night time is usually when I feel the waves of emotions hit.  I guess that's because, during the day, I'm so busy and the house is so noisy (with my 3 and then little Emmie, there are 4 kiddos ages 5 and under running around!) that I don't have time to remember. At night, though, it is quiet and I glance over at the pictures of Isaiah and I remember. 
And the memories bringing searing pain.
Last night was rough.  But it was not just me simply grieving the loss of the life of my son. It was more like I was struggling with the losing itself. Struggling with walking through the terrible experience of finding out that he was dead and then of having to tell my daughters.  It was such a shock to find out that he was dead. And when I think of that moment when I did find out he was dead, and when I think of the awful moment of when my oldest daughter found out her baby brother was dead, there is a huge storm of emotions that engulf my heart: shock, fear, sadness, anger.  These emotions are intense.  They sear. They almost take my breath away.  What surprises me is that they don't just come from the actual loss but from experience of the losing.  Does that make sense?
Its all still so shocking.  I just cant believe it happened. Its been almost 14 months, and I still cant believe it happened.
Miss ya and love ya lots, sweet Isaiah!

In memory of my son, I decided to sew little diapers for Teeny Tears and donate them to my local hospital.  I received several items from the hospital when Isaiah was born and I treasure these items (one item is a blanket that I still sleep with every night!).  It is nice to do something in his memory and to reach out to the women who will be grieving.  If I can help provide even a little itty bit of comfort, it will be worth it.  I just really really really  wish these little teeny diapers were not needed. 
Will post a picture when I'm done. :)

Thinking about my little boy in Heaven...
Do you think that people age in Heaven? Or do they remain the same as when they died? Will I instantly recognize Isaiah?

Wish I would have held that sweet, perfect, little hand longer before saying goodbye :(

 

Thankful for my little crew here on earth...

Have to keep "Emmie's" face covered since she is not legally ours. And the baby really looks like an old man here-trust me he is much much cuter :)

Love this.  Its by John Piper-- written to a mom who had lost her son to stillbirth.

Amputation is a good analogy. Because unlike a bullet wound, when the amputation heals, the arm is still gone. So the hurt of grief is different from the hurt of other wounds. There is the pain of the severing, and then the relentless pain of the gone-ness. The countless might-have-beens. Those too hurt. Each new remembered one is a new blow on the tender place where the arm was. So grieving is like and unlike other pain.
There is a paradox in the way God is honored through hope-filled grief. One might think that the only way He could be honored would be to cry less or get over the ache more quickly. That might show that your confidence is in the good that God is and the good that He does. Yes. It might. And some people are wired emotionally to experience God that way. I would not join those who say, “O they are just in denial.”
But there is another way God is honored in our grieving. When we taste the loss so deeply because we loved so deeply and treasured God’s gift — and God in His gift — so passionately that the loss cuts the deeper and the longer, and yet in and through the depths and the lengths of sorrow we never let go of God, and feel Him never letting go of us — in that longer sorrow He is also greatly honored, because the length of it reveals the magnitude of our sense of loss for which we do not forsake God. At every moment of the lengthening grief, we turn to Him not away from Him. And therefore the length of it is a way of showing Him to be ever-present, enduringly sufficient.

Uncomfortable Conversations

Ever since Isaiah died, a part of me dreads social situations with other moms (i.e. play dates, lunch group, birthday parties, and my *favorite*... baby showers).  One reason I dread these is because of the difficult I'm-not-saying-a-thing-but-I'm-thinking-and-feeling-lots conversations that I will inevitably find myself a part of.  Here are some examples:

Today, we had lunch group.  One of the moms is due tomorrow (When I was pregnant with Isaiah, I was also due on a Saturday; I very clearly remember what I did on that Friday before my due date--cue onslaught of sad memories and painful flashbacks); anyways, this mom told us that the doctor offered to induce her today and she told him no.  I almost had a panic attack on her behalf. I wanted to tell her-- hurry, hurry, get that baby out quick while it is still alive!
(Now, I know in my head that inductions are not always the best route-- but after losing Isaiah, my emotions often just speak louder than my head). 
Did I say anything to her? Nope. 

Last night, we had some friends over.  One of the girls is due in about 3 weeks.  She told me that she was telling a nurse (who knows my story), that she has not bonded with this baby as much as she bonded with her other two.  Why?
Because of me.
Because of me, she now knows that a healthy uneventful pregnancy can end in tragedy. 
I wasn't sure how to respond to this?? Your welcome. I'm sorry. Don't worry-- it only happens rarely and I took one for the team. ???
(I am, though, very thankful when people are brave enough to talk about Isaiah. I would much much rather them talk about his life/death than not talk about it.  Even if what they say doesn't always warm my heart.)

Then there was the conversation about future children.  I was standing in a group of moms.  One mom asks the other-- do you think you'll have anymore kids? She answers and then asks the question back.
As they talk, my heart sinks; my mind says walk away; my feet stay planted. 
I don't want them to ask me about future kids.  I don't want them NOT to ask me about future kids.  Can we just talk about the weather????

These are just a few of the many conversations that I find myself trying to survive. 
Any conversations ya'll have had to survive lately?
 

I have writers block.  Really bad writers block.  I have no idea what to blog about-- and its not for lack of thoughts or emotions (because there are certainly plenty of those swirling through this head and heart of mine!).  But I want to write -- I want to record and remember this crazy journey that is my life.
So, here are just a bunch of things I've been thinking/feeling lately:

1. Fear. I constantly and I mean CONSTANTLY check to see if this wee baby of mine is breathing.  During the day, he sleeps downstairs, in the kitchen, with me right there watching him.  I admit--I'm a little paranoid.  I see my paranoia and I don't like it.  But I guess that's something I have to do battle with right now.  Here is an example of my crazy fear:  It was all I could do to make myself go to Target today.  Not because I didn't want to go to Target.  But because baby had not had a good nap all day and was currently sleeping and so I really needed to leave him, at home, sleeping.  So I decided to go, alone.  Before I left, my husband was instructed to please check on baby every few minutes.  I finally got myself out the door ok. And I made it to Target ok. I made it through Target ok (and actually enjoyed shopping alone for a bit!). But, then, on the way home, I heard sirens, and they were headed in the general area of my home.  Immediately, sad/scary/not good thoughts started barraging my brain.  I wish I could say that I was strong and fought them off and trusted.
But, I cant.
Because I wasn't. 
I simply gave in to the bad thoughts and didn't trust. 
So, I called my husband and in a calm voice (trying not to let on that I was on the verge of panic) said "Hey-- how are things?"
(what I meant, of course, was--is baby still breathing????) 
"Just peachy." were my husbands exact words. 
SIGH. 
Breathe. 
Crazy me. 
               "Dear God, Please help me to trust You with this sweet precious little one."

2. Envy.  This feeling is nothing new.  I just still get very jealous of all the women that I know that simply decide one day that they want to get pregnant, and they then proceed to quickly get pregnant, and they then go on to have super healthy pregnancies and, then, at the appointed time, they deliver healthy babies.  I'm happy for them.  It just kinda hurts. And I'm just a wee bit jealous.

3.  Surprise.  This goes along with #2.  I'm actually surprised at all the healthy babies.  I went to a baby shower this week.  I just wanted to stare at the belly. 
Here are my crazy thoughts:
"There is really a real, healthy, growing, little baby in there.  Soon she will be born.  She will come out pink and crying.  Her mom will snuggle with her.  Her big siblings will come meet her.  There will be joy... "
For some strange reason, healthy babies are just shocking to me.

4.  Sadness.  This will always be with me I think.  Just missing Isaiah. Missing him so so much

5. Longing.  Longing for the day when all will be made right.  When mommas wont have to let go of their babies.  When arms wont ache to hold the life that should have been.  When every tear will be wiped away.  Oh how I long for that day. 
My daughter Kate told me the other day that her children (she was pretending to be a momma) went to heaven. 
"Oh?" I said "Tell me about that."
She proceeded to tell me that they were just swinging on the swing set and went higher and higher and higher and then they went to heaven.
Oh the sweet simplicity of a child's heart. :)
I kinda wish we could all just swing up to heaven. 
Seriously, though, one day we actually will be headed there. 
Oh how sweet it will be!

Well, its getting late.  I need to go snuggle a precious little boy.  Here is a picture of said precious little boy:

oh how i love this little boy.