Dearest Isaiah,
Your death catapulted my life onto an entirely different path.  Before you died, I had a sweet little life... 2 precious daughters, healthy and pregnant with my third child, wonderful husband, nice little church, sweet little friends, beautifully boring days with hardly a problem in sight... 

Ha.
After your death, things changed! 

Those 2 precious daughters... they spent many evenings crying, many days panicking that someone else would die. 

That wonderful husband... he was walking around with a shattered heart. 
Those sweet little friends....well, they tried to understand, but they (for the most part) just couldn't (and they kept getting pregnant and they kept giving birth to healthy babies...). 
And my beautifully boring days... they were filled such sadness and pain and panic attacks.


Yes, my life changed completely.


And those changes caused me to face the very realness of death. And eternity.  And the suffering that is present here on earth.  Of course, I knew that we would all die, and I knew that there were people who were hurting.  But, before losing you, Isaiah, I tried to keep those thoughts at arms length (or further!).
But then, you died. 

And I realized that death wont always be at arms length.
And then little Emmie came(and I realized the torment of s. abuse that she had endured),

and I met J's birth mom(and watched as she, amidst great tears, handed her son over to me),

and I held little C(and watched as a judge terminated his mom's rights),

and I realized that I was not the only one hurting... I certainly didn't have the corner on the market of suffering in this life.




And as I'm just crossing the two year mark of losing you, I'm realizing that, along with my life changing, my heart is changing.  I'm not sure, exactly, how to put this into words... But I no longer want that old life.  I don't want the superficialness of it.  I want my life to matter for eternity.  I want my Savior, the one who died for me, to be pleased with my life.  I want to see those who are hurting and weep with them and tell them that there is a God who loves them and that this is not the end of their story and that this life is very brief compared to eternity.


The problem is, when you open your eyes to the suffering around you, when you are willing to share in that suffering, you too will suffer some.  You cant share another's load and not expect to feel some of the pain and heaviness of the burden.  And being burdened is not what my flesh enjoys.  But God is near to the broken hearted and reaching out to the broken hearted brings me near to the heart of God. And that is a sweet place, I place that I want to be.


The situation with Emmie is very difficult.  A s. abused, physically abused, 4 1/2  year old is not easy to deal with.  The trauma and pain that she must work through is great.   Many people are telling Daniel and I to stop.  My heart is wrestling.  Daniel's heart is wrestling.  I have no idea what will happen. 


I do know, though, that I can never go back to living a life that ignores those who are hurting.


Oh Isaiah, what a journey.
 

Dearest Isaiah,


Tomorrow is April 13th.  It will officially be two years since you died.


This morning I called my mom and I just cried.  I cried because of all the memories, the memories that sear, I cried because of all the regrets (why didn't I call the doctor sooner? why did I attempt the vbac? why didn't I pray for you more?), I cried because I never got to meet you, I cried because a lot of people simply don't understand why I still feel sad, and that, well, that just really really hurts. 


My mom is the best and she listened as only a mom can.  And more importantly she spoke truth:
~Isaiah, your life was not in vain.  God had a purpose for it.
~God is sovereign.  He, and He alone, holds the keys to life and death.  I did not kill you.  I could not have saved you.  I've got to let the guilt go.
~I will see you again.  You are in Heaven.  Period.
~Yes, there are people who don't understand, people who think I should be done grieving. But, that's ok.  This is my journey and until they are forced to walk a similar path, they really wont be able to understand. And, that is ok.
~Jesus.  Jesus knows suffering.  Jesus knows grief.  And He is near to the broken hearted.  He is near to me.


Oh Isaiah, what do we do over the next two days? How do we walk through them? They will be so tough.
AnnaGrace burst into tears at bed time.  She is still grieving as well.  She wants to have presents for you and a party for you.  But I don't know if that is what is best.  Do I let her have a little party and presents? Do we sing happy birthday? Is that weird? Is it making her sorrow worse? I guess there is no instruction manual for how to grieve.


Tomorrow we are going to do a little picnic.  Some friends and some family will meet us there and we will have a picnic.  It will be a time for us to focus on the blessings that we do have, to force us to get out of the house, to stop (at least for an hour or two) the constant and at times overwhelming memories.  And, like last year, I will include the anchor symbol to help me focus on hope... Hope that is real.  Hope that has been, and is, an anchor for my soul. 


And then, on the 14th (your birthday)... I don't know what we will do.  It is supposed to be rainy.  Maybe we should have a little party for you.  I think your sister is right-- Who cares if it seems weird?


Oh Isaiah--wishing I could hold you. Wishing I could hear your laugh and see your eyes dance.  Wishing I could hold your hand and feel your little fingers intertwined with mine.  Wishing I could count your toes and sing to you and read you a book.  Wishing I could walk upstairs and peek in your room and see you sleeping.

I love you, precious son.  And I really, really miss you.


Love,
Momma

Dearest Isaiah,
The grief monster is rearing its ugly head again.  Besides the fact that its back, this time, its a bit of a different kind of beast.  I cant put my finger on what's different about it -- a bit lonelier maybe? Everyone else (including Daddy) seems to have moved on and healed.  My heart, though, still just feels sad.  And the fact that they have moved on, but I haven't, makes it all the harder. Along with being lonelier, the grief is more final.  You really are gone.  I really didn't get a chance to meet you and, this side of heaven, I never will.  Your life, the plans that I had, the dreams of how my family would look... they are gone. 
Oh Isaiah.
At almost two years post, I can still hardly bear it when I'm with a bunch a moms and the conversation turns (as it ALWAYS does!) to pregnancy, birth, ttc etc.  It causes my heart to just ache and ache. Seeing a sweet little momma with her sweet little baby bump is so so so difficult. I wonder, would it be easier if I had gotten pregnant again? Having J has been such a blessing, a wonderful gift.  Truly-- he is a ray of sunshine in my life.  But, I didn't give birth to him... is there healing that comes from going through a pregnancy and giving birth to a live baby after enduring a still birth? Would I be better able to endure seeing pregnant friends, better able to join in the pregnancy conversations?  Or would the intense pain that comes with the searing memories still surface?
Oh Isaiah.
Longing for you sweet precious son. 
Love,
Momma

Originally, she came to stay with us for just a few days.  And then she went home for about a week.  Then, her mom called and asked if I would pick her up and take care of her for awhile. 
Eleven months later and we are still taking care of her.

My husband and I have always been interested in foster/adoption --we even talked about it before we were married(oh how fun and innocent and simple life seemed back then!).  However, we were thinking young children.  Babies.  Toddlers at the oldest.  We knew enough to know that a three year old who has been raised in a terrible environment will have some deep wounds.  And those wounds will need lots of skilled care to heal.  And we knew we did not have that type of skill.  

However, God obviously had different plans than we had. 

We planned to have a third child.
                         God allowed our third child to die.
We planned to then foster or adopt an infant.  (My husband clearly said-- no child over 2.)
                         God brought us a three year old.

Let me be very clear here--I like to be in control.  I like to make a plan and then follow that plan, checking off each step as it is accomplished. 

She is hurting.  Her wounds are very raw.  She's angry and lashing out. 
Its difficult for me to see the wounds.  Instead, I see the tantrums, the disobedience, the meanness.  (She's four now and she still poops in her pull-up, but only when she wants to.  If she wants a treat-- she'll poop in the potty.  If she's angry-- she'll poop in her pull-up.  Do you know what its like to change a four year old's poop?  Its Disgusting.  I HATE DOING IT.)

There are times when I feel so angry at God.  "Why, God?" I question Him.  I cry out in ager to this God "Why did my baby die? Why did you bring this child to me?  Why do I have to deal with an angry, mean, fighting-the-world four year old after everything else that I've been through?"

She doesn't want us to have control over her.  She believes that she must remain in control.  No matter the consequence.  But she cant continue to live like that.  She must learn to trust us.  She must allow us to take care of her.  To trust the decisions we make for her.  She must realize that she doesn't see nor understand as we do.  She must find rest in our love.

After my tears dry up and the questions stop pouring forth, I hear a small voice saying to me "My child-- I love you.  And I have a plan for your life.  A plan that you can not see nor understand.  My ways are not your ways.  You simply must trust Me.  You must learn to let go of your plans, to open your tightly fisted hand, to let go of control and keep your eyes on Me.  This world, your plans, they will not bring you joy because you do not see the whole picture.  You must trust me. "


She and I-- I'm thinking we may have a few things in common. 
   


  

Tough times this week:
~Waiting in a line and a pregnant lady gets in line behind me.  I wanted to run away.  I literally had to work really hard to just stand still.  Is it crazy that I still feel panicky/sad/angry/jealous when seeing pregnant women?  Shouldn't I be better by now?
~My sis in law sent a text announcing her 4th pregnancy.  Yep, she was pregnant with her third when I was pregnant with Isaiah, my third.  Yep, she got her son.  And, yep, she is pregnant again! I am so very happy for them.  I am so very sad that its not that easy for me. Now, I'm just waiting for my other sister in law (who was also pregnant when I was pregnant) to announce that she's pregnant....

Sweet times this week:
~Sitting in the nursery that would have been Isaiah's room and rocking my sweet rainbow son "J" while watching my sweet foster son "C" play.  Knowing that I have been able to love on two boys who have also experienced a loss in their little lives is somehow comforting.
~Listening to my oldest daughter AnnaGrace call J her "best bud in the whole wide world".  I love the sweet relationship between them!   I love that she has a little brother here on earth.  I am so thankful for his precious, miraculous life.

In the bike trailer together.
I know, I know, J looks a little funny here. :)

Confusing time this week:
~Meeting C's mom at the foster care review board meeting, and watching as the board reviewed the case against her and then delivered some hard news.  She cried.  I felt so sorry for her.  I felt a little angry too--why had she done those things to her precious son?  Didn't she realize what a gift he was? But, mostly, I felt sorry for her.  I wonder what her life has been like.  What her life is currently like.  I tried to comfort her a little.  She asked me to give her son a hug from her.  I understand the feeling of losing a son and just wanting to simply give him a hug.  I told her I definitely would. And I did.
~Emmie is having a terrible time.  She starts counseling on Friday.  I hope it helps.  I just need to do one whole post on the situation with her.  Its just really hard stuff.    
 

Where do I begin?

Well, they say a picture is worth a 1,000 words, so I'll just share a couple snapshots from our last few months:


We landed back in the hospital for the second time this summer.  Different little girl.  Different problem. STILL.NO.FUN.
 Hoping and praying for no more hospital stays in the near future!
 

After our stay in the hospital, we headed to the beach for some R & R. It was a sweet time of much needed rest. And of smiles. :)

 

We were so thankful for this time away.  We did not want to go home! 





 

 

 

While at the beach, DSS called (again!) asking if we would consider taking a foster child.  This time we decided to say yes. And the Monday we returned, a precious 14 month old boy was brought to our home. My heart breaks for "C" (who is on the left); suffice it to say he has had nothing short of a very very very tough first 14months of life.

 

 

 

 

Doing life with 5 little ones ages 6yo and under is WiLd and CrAzY :)

 

 

 

And although my arms are never empty these days, my heart still longs, grieves, yearns for the little one that I will never again (this side of eternity) hold.

 

 

There is so much to write.  So many emotions in this heart of mine that I need to process.  There is still so much sadness over losing Isaiah; there is still so much envy of others and their "perfect" pregnancies and birth stories"; there is  unbelief about how a mom could so neglect her 14month old baby boy; there is confusion about why God chooses to take some little babies but He decides to grant life to others; there is a growing awareness of all the brokenness in this world (I truly led such a sheltered happy life); there is a grieving and a questioning of God about all this brokenness.... there are just so many many emotions. 

However, my day has been (just a tad) busy, and I am tired. 

So, I'm going to sign off. 

But I do hope to write again soon. 



The other night, I went to our local Women's and Children's hospital and donated some itty bitty diapers (teeny tears), gowns, blankets, and hats. 

When I handed them over to the nurse that I had been corresponding with, she explained to the other nurses that they were for the IUFD's (intrauterine fetal demise).  The way she said it made me kinda sad.  IUFD's?  No, they are babies.  Babies that were dreamed about, talked about, planned for, hoped for, prayed for, longed for, and loved.  Babies that have died. Somehow, hearing them called IUFDs cheapens their lives. 
 
"Dear God,
 I pray for each of these mommas.  I pray that as they wrap their little ones in these garments that You would wrap Your arms around them.  I pray that they would feel Your love and comfort.  As their hearts shatter, give them a supernatural peace in their soul.  Remind them that in Heaven, every tear will be wiped away and there will be no more goodbyes.  Thank You Lord for hope."