The Heart of This Boy

Rather abruptly at lunch yesterday, Lucas announced that he really wants a sister. But not a baby sister "from my tummy." He wants us to adopt a sister that is closer to his age so he has someone to play with. He said he had been "really thinking about this." I could see it on his face. He was very serious and thoughtful. It was not a whim discussion. And although his comments caught me off guard, they did not catch me by surprise.

He has said before that he would like a sister, but has never been so specific about adoption and wanting an older girl to join our family. I know that part of this adoption idea being sparked in his head comes from asking about a book I just finished that tells the story of a family's adoption journey. But it wasn't like he was borrowing an idea. It was more that one had been uncovered and he now had words for it.

His words were both tender and funny. He has figured out where "our girl" would sleep and sit in the car and at our table. He has an idea of what her name should be but he's not ready to share that yet. The longer we talked about it, the more he wanted to say. It was as if he could picture it more and more and couldn't contain how much he would love if it all actually came to be. I kept asking why he thought he wanted a sister, specifically one his age. After saying "I just do" about a dozen times, he finally got quiet.

"Sometimes, I just feel like I don't want to be the oldest. Like if my brother were here, I would have someone to be with me." My heart stopped for a moment. There it is. The root of this is a longing that I totally get. I feel it with him, I just didn't know he felt it like this. He misses his brother.

When asked why missing Micah makes him want to have a sister and not an older brother, his reply brought some much needed tension release to the moment. Pointing at Caden he says, "Well, I have already seen how that goes and I think I want to try a sister this time." LOL! (disclaimer: These boys LOVE being together and LOVE playing together. Caden is just a bit intense for Lucas sometimes and a bit frustrating at this stage.)

I relayed this conversation to Hubby later in the afternoon, but more in a "hear the cute things our son said" kind of tone. When really, his words have touched a deep place in my soul. I don't know if we would ever adopt another child or not. Reading this book has certainly revived a desire I have had since high school to share our family's love with a child who may be in need of some. But parenting these boys is hard and makes me wonder if I have what it would take to parent through an adoption and be the right kind of mother to a girl of any age. But Lucas' words still ring in my ears. Is God using my 5yr old to water a seed?

I certainly don't know yet. I told Lucas that as a family we could talk more about this and pray about it. I told him he should ask God if this is right for our family and see what God says. But no matter what, if any, concrete action comes from this lunch conversation, I at the very least got a glimpse into the soul of my son and it was precious. So very precious. He has such a tender, little heart that longs for a brother he has never met. This visceral longing that has forever changed me resides also deep in this boy that, in many ways, rescued my soul from darkness. He also longs for a sister and I just can't dismiss that. I think I might long for that too. But the thought of bringing a little girl into our family, no matter the route, is daunting and a bit terrifying to me.
I am grateful for the heart of this little boy. I am touched by his words and thoughts and fully aware of God working in his soul. And mine.




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Unfixable

What a dreary day. This whole week actually has been nothing but gray skies and cold weather. It kinda sucks actually. What happened to spring?
In other news, today is Micah's birthday.

I stopped at the tree last Friday after having a conversation with some dear friends the night before. The emotions of all this have really snuck up on me this year. I felt totally unprepared to dive with my friends into what year seven looks like in this grieving journey and yet I didn't want to miss my chance to process it with the people who love me most. So at the tree last Friday and then again today, the emotions finally all caught up with me. Sometimes, what my soul needs is just to let go and cry a little. Or a lot. Holding the longing in just makes it worse.

I told a friend today that I don't miss my baby Micah anymore. I guess I have moved past the stage of grief where you continually re-live the tragedy and feel angry that there wasn't a different outcome. The ache I feel here in year 7 is just this unfixable longing for my family to be complete. I mean, I love my two boys with every fiber of my being. They bring me more joy than I ever thought imaginable. But if I am being totally honest, I seem to always feel a sense that something is not quite whole. Especially this week. This is the only week of the year that I want to get pregnant and have another baby. Like I think that will somehow make the feeling of lacking go away.
What I really want, I can never have. I want Lucas to have his older brother. Someone to hold his hand and help him navigate this life the way he does for Caden. Lucas is such a sensitive, intuitive kid. He has been telling people all day today that it is his brother Micah's birthday and that we are sad because he isn't here but that we will see him in heaven someday. His little face just looks at me with a knowing. A knowing he didn't get from living through it. He just knows. He gets the hurt and longing in ways I cannot even fathom or describe. But he cuddles up to me and takes my hand or just wants to be close, like he needs the comforting too. I sometimes feel so unequipped to help Lucas navigate his emotions- heck, I can barely navigate my own sometimes. And I can just see how having his older brother around would ease his little soul.

Truthfully, it breaks my heart into a million pieces that Lucas does not have Micah, that I don't have him. When I imagine having a seven year old running around my house, loving on his pup and his little brothers, I just know in my soul that THAT is what would make me feel whole. But it is THAT that I cannot have. So this longing, this deep ache in my soul, remains unfixable. I can't imagine that this stage of the grieving will ever go away. Maybe it will feel less something... well, just less.... in years 8 and 9 and 10 and ... But I don't expect to wake up one day and say "Wow, I'm glad to be over that." But yet, in year 1 I didn't think I would ever have children or be able to go on with life as usual. And yet, I have 2 amazing boys and a semi-"usual" life. So who knows.

Do I sound like a broken record? I feel like one. Just turn me off if you have heard this song too many times. I'll play a new song soon, most likely.

Oh, and I am getting a tattoo. Yep.



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Remembering

I hope to sit on this sand someday. Either on this side of heaven or once I get there. Actually, any sand would be heavenly if I had all three my boys sitting with me. The beach is my haven, my place of peace where all seems well in my soul and in the world.
Today, I am remembering a very sad day. A day I had to let go. But today I am also looking at this picture and thinking about that day when I will be able to finally let go of the longing and the sadness. A day when I can sit in the sand on the beach, any beach, and finally feel whole.

I miss you, sweet boy. Save a spot on that heavenly sand for your mama. I ache for the day when we will watch this sunset together.


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Year 6

Towards the end of March every year, I start getting e-mails in my in-box that I should have canceled years ago. Fisher-Price, Gerber, One-Step Ahead, PotteryBarn Kids, and I think a couple others. All lists or sites I entered my information on when I was pregnant with Micah back in the fall of '03... and they are still sending me mommy-propaganda.

Check out these new toys perfect for six year olds! What sports does your six year old love? Has your six year old hit all the developmental markers? Are you ready for kindergarten? We have the perfect gift for your six year old!

I get a pit feeling in my stomach when I see them in my in-box. I never open them. I let them sit there for a few days and then just delete them without ever reading about what my six year old should be playing with or learning or getting ready for. I should really unsubscribe, but I just can't do it. Or maybe I don't want to.
See, I don't have a six year old. I should. I have a son that would have been six. But I don't have a six year old. I think what really keeps me from canceling these e-mails is this feeling that they are one of the few current reminders I have of what life could have been. Should have been.
I look at Lucas and can hardly believe how much he has changed in the last 4years. He is this amazing little boy with his own ideas and thoughts and feelings. And Caden, he is already such a little boy with emerging thoughts and opinions too. I have seen them grow from tiny, defenseless babes to the independent souls they are becoming. But with Micah, I missed that. I only knew him as an infant. A very sick, can't breath on his own, but otherwise perfect baby. And my memories of him are all of him this way. I can remember his piercing eyes and tight grip as Hubby and I stood by his NICU bed. I remember his golden hair that would probably have all fallen out as he got older and his chubby cheeks that might have slimmed away as he became less baby and more little boy.

Who would he be as a six year old? Who would I be as the mother of a six year old who had never known the pain of burying my first born? Would he still look like the spitten-image of his daddy? How might life be different? How might I be different?

I am beyond the acute stage of grief. I don't think about my grief everyday. If I am being totally honest, I don't even really think deeply about Micah everyday. I do see his picture everyday as I walk through my living room. But remembering him has just become part of me. Missing him has become part of me. But there are some days when the longing is overwhelming and the thoughts of what might have been just over take me.
I don't know if that is normal for this stage of grief. Probably is. Year 6. Closer to 10 than 0. I'm not sure if that means anything to you, but to me that feels big. Though I can't really explain why.

I sat in the nursery tonight, nursing and rocking Caden to sleep. He likes to hold my hand and play with my fingernails as he falls asleep. I just leaned over and rested my cheek on his forehead and closed my eyes. As dysfunctional as this may be, as I felt Caden holding my hand I tried to imagine that it was Micah and remember what it felt like for his little fingers to grasp mine six long years ago. I could picture myself there, in the NICU, sitting in a rocking chair holding my first born son. And as I rocked Caden, I just cried- tears of a deep longing for times like this with Micah that I was cheated out of and yet also tears of deep, deep gratitude for these moments that I do have with Caden and did have with Lucas.

I may not know what Micah would be good at or what toys he would like to play with or if he had hit all his developmental markers. I may be left wondering how life up to this point has changed me for the better and the worse. I may, at times, feel all alone in this world and in my grief. But, here in year 6, I do know that God is with me. He is holding me, walking with me, blessing me. He has given me Lucas and Caden and friends who deeply love me and remind me of how far I really have come in these 6 years. One of my dearest friends told me today that it is the times when I worry about losing my hope that prove that I really haven't lost it. That rings so true in my heart. I am sad, heart-broken, incomplete. But that is not the whole picture, thank you Jesus. I will be made whole one glorious day but I can still see the amazing ways I am a blessed woman now on earth. I do feel lonely and like I haven't navigated this grief well at times, but I just keep praying that God would help me reconcile this woman that I am with the idea I have of who I should be.

Year 6. Still longing. Still hurting. Still wondering about so many things. But yet, grateful and hopeful and learning how to be comfortable just being me.


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Off Guard

The calender and the weather tell me that it is April. March has come and gone, Lucas has turned 4 and I've already had my toes in the sand. Spring is here. The air is warm, the sun is shining and we are emerging from our Chicago-winter hibernation. It is already mid April, and while I am very excited for most of what that brings, I feel like spring is catching me a little off-guard.
I sat out at Micah's tree for awhile today, trying to collect my thoughts. His birthday is next week and I am feeling a bit unprepared. Even sitting out at the tree today, my mind was flooded with all sorts of other things and worries that I couldn't clear away as I tried to intentionally think about deeper things. As I tried to remember. I did have a good cry though. About missing him and about all the other things that seem to be weighing on my mind and heart right now.
(I should not let myself blog when I am in this kind of mood. But, then again, that is kinda why I have this blog- to help me filter my thoughts and figure it all out.)

I am kinda in a "one-day at a time" mode right now which is why next week is coming so fast. I am trying to get things done and stay on top of life all while living it to the fullest. Add in a couple extra challenges (physical and situational) and I am at times just keeping my head above water even before adding in the pressure and emotion of figuring out what grief in year 6 looks like.
(I should have blogged yesterday when it was 80degrees and I played outside with my boys all day and had biscuits and gravy for dinner- it was a great day!! See, I am not always this melancholy.)

Spring is here and I am not quite ready. Micah's tree is staring to bud, and it is so beautiful to me. I have heard that often times it takes a couple season-cycles for new trees to bud, so I am grateful that ours is blooming this first spring. The air is sweet and fresh, just like the new signs of life on the branches. I, however, am a bit flustered, a bit unorganized, a bit off guard. But I am also intent on being intentional in how I live the next few weeks. I will try not be dictated by my to-do list. My heart tells me to shake off the "shoulds" and obligations and see where that takes me. I will say that my week in Florida with no laptop and no phone really made me feel free to enjoy my boys and my downtime in refreshing ways. I want to keep that up. But we'll see how it really goes. Right now, I just need to get my thoughts and "to-do"s in order so that no matter what the next few weeks look like, I am ready.

Welcome, Spring. I am glad your here. I just need to catch up a bit.


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A Need for Love

If you have been around the blogsphere or twitter at all today, you have heard about this story. I didn't even know about this blog until today. And boy, am I glad. I know it was God's way of sparing me the emotional manipulation. I did read about it last night, but I had no idea the extent of the deception that this woman manufactured until I read this Chicago Trib article today.

My first reaction- rage! How could this Chicago suburbs (she is from Palos Heights) woman fake this tragedy that is SO REAL for SO MANY people? She played on the empathy and emotion of mothers who have walked through similar heartache all in the name of getting the attention. The Trib reports that she did receive donations and gifts but they can't confirm if she benefited financially from the whole hoax. That doesn't matter to me. What makes me so infuriated is that she took a situation that I have lived through, that LOTS of people have lived through, and turned into a big game. It is not a game. The pain is real. The grief, the anxiety, the depth of sadness that you almost can't escape... all very real.

Once I had the chance to sit with this for a bit, my next reaction is just plain sadness. Sad for her. Sad for all the people that made the effort to support her even if it brought back the pain of their own grief. What must this girl's life be like that she would have to create such an elaborate scam to get the attention and love she needs? The Trib article also reports that she did lose a baby in 2005. SO she does know this pain. Which makes it even worse to me that she exploited it in this way. She must have a void, an emotional void, a deep need to be loved and appreciated and valued.

I don't know what disturbs me more, what this lady did or why she did it. Or, that I can see pieces of myself in her. I do know that feeling of wanting everyone to share in my grief or just acknowledge that what I was/am feeling is real. I also know the desire to have attention showered on me and to feel like I have something to give that other people thing is worth something. I too have a deep need to be loved and valued and appreciated. Most of us do in some way or another. But, thankfully and by God's grace, I have people in my life that love me and value me and appreciate me. Maybe not all the time or perfectly well. But I know that I am loved. And although my blog does not get 100,000 hits/day (as her was) or anywhere even in that ballpark, I can't get my worth from that. And even when the things I do to try to get attention or make something out of myself don't elicit the response from others that I was maybe hoping for, I can only be myself and learn to be content with that.

This girl, "April's Mom," did a really horrible thing. But she did it to fill a very real need. And I get that. I hate what she did. It still makes me very mad. But, I also want to find her and give her a hug. I'm sure she feels horrible now that the truth is out and she is getting all this negative press. I have done things too that I am not proud of. Most people have if they are being honest. So, I forgive her as a way of continuing the healing process in me. My grief is not lessened by what she did. Nor is hers. And for that, she needs my prayers and not my rage.


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If no Grief, then no Joy?

In this rare moment of quiet, I am sitting here trying to think. While I am a pretty good multi-tasker, I am not that good at deep thinking or processing emotion in the midst of the chaos that normally ensues around here. I need these moments, these calm and peaceful moments, to think and be introspective and sort through the emotional jumble that is inside my head and heart.
This is the beginning of the hardest week of my year. And this year seems particularly hard. It is year #5 and it feels bigger, harder. A milestone.
In the past, I have struggled with feeling like I have to grieve as on-lookers would expect me to grieve. Appropriately emotional and yet able to keep it together and look at "the bright side." I am trying to let go of that and just be what I need to be, grieve how I need to grieve.
I recently had a conversation with someone I deeply love (and if you are reading this, know that I do deeply love you.) She asked me about our plans for remembering Micah this year. We have a couple things in the works and she wanted to know the status. During the conversation, I broke down, trying to open up to her and share my true self, I didn't hold back the tears. I could have. But I decided to let her see what I was truly feeling.
"I am having a bit of a hard time this year," I told her. "This year feels big, like it was so long ago but is still so raw. It just seems so unfixable. This hole I feel, it is so unfixable."

Instead of simply saying she missed him too or some other empathetic offering, she began to tell me how hard it has been to watch me grieve Micah- how she hoped that someday I would be able to "just remember" and not have it be such "raw grief." She went on to talk about how she often thinks about two babies that she lost to miscarriage and wonders if they had lived would she have had her youngest girl. "Would you not have had Lucas and Caden and known that joy had Micah lived?"
Now, to her credit, she is in NO WAY trying to say that having Lucas and Caden makes the loss of Micah any less significant or tragic. Her point, I think, was simply that moving on with my life may mean focusing more on the joy I have with my two boys than on the grief I have over losing one. And she is probably right. Probably.

I wrote recently about feeling angry that God did not answer my prayers and heal Micah. Family and friends and even some random people in bloggy-land have e-mailed me with concern that I am still so "angry" and that I am not focusing on the joy that God has given me. I don't think that is the whole picture. You are all right, that keeping my eye on my boys and the blessings they are to me is honoring Micah and his memory. Enjoying life and staying positive is the way to keep the grief from swallowing me whole. But, I truthfully don't know what to do with this premise that I am missing out on the experience of full joy by focusing too much on the experience of real grief. I have both. I hold both. And there are moments when one or the other mostly shuts the other out. But never completely. That is the nature of this grief, and this joy.
And maybe that premise is true to some extent. Maybe I will never know what it is like to have untainted joy. If Micah had lived, if that fateful ultrasound had been "normal" and uneventful,... What would my maternal joy feel like then? How many children would I have? How much joy would I know if I had never known grief?
I don't like to ask the question "would Lucas and Caden exist if Micah had lived?" It feels like having to choose between my three boys. God is bigger than that, to me. He has known from the inception of this world that someday I would lose my first son and then be blessed with two more. I don't have to figure that out. And I would never be able to.

This kind of goes both ways. My grief may taint my joy at times. But doesn't it also make it more rich? The depth to which I am grateful for my boys is deeper because I know the pain of losing one. I love them differently having lost than if I had never known this grief. I am not saying I love my kids any more than a mother who has not grieved. I just love them differently, with a bigger sense of appreciation and gratitude. And even a little bit of fear thrown in there since I know that my boys are a gift that I am not in complete control over. God holds those reins.

But the question still remains- If I had never known this grief, would I know this joy? What would it mean to know joy if I had never known grief? Would I experience joy more deeply without grief or does the grief make the joy more full?

And more fundamental... are grief and joy even really opposites or... What is the opposite of grief? One emotion certainly changes the experience of the other. But in what ways, I am not sure I really know. I thought by now I would know more. It is, after all, year 5. And yet, it is only year 5.
One thing I do know- I certainly know grief. Raw, intense, overwhelming, unfixable grief. But I also know joy. Vibrant, consuming, warms-you-from-the-inside joy. My grief is part of me. And maybe I am afraid to let it go for fear of what that would mean. But those who know me would hopefully also say that my joy is part of me too. My boys are truly the light of my life and I cherish my moments and my life with them.

Here I sit. Holding both the grief and the joy. This week will be a strange mix of both. Making time to grieve but also being with my boys and living life. It is like rain when the sun is shining, or standing on the beach in the midst of a storm. Grieving Micah, but also joy. Joy that he was here for even those three days. Joy that I have Lucas and Caden and can teach them about their brother. Grief and Joy. Together in my soul. Probably forever. But if not, at least for now. And I am o.k. with that.

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photo credit:maz hewitt

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A Strange Lonliness

I grew up a little today... quite unexpectedly. My grandmother, my dad's mother and my last living grandparent, died last night.

Both my grandfathers died before I was born. My dad's mom did remarry and I knew and loved him as my Grandpa my whole life until he died when I was in college. My mom's mom also died when I was in college. Growing up a military kid, we lived all over so I saw my grandparents once or maybe twice a year, if that. So I would not say that I have ever been super close to my grandma ("Grams"). But we occasonally talked on the phone and traveled to California to visit. I tried to be faithful to send pics of the boys. And I loved her.

And now that she has gone to heaven to be with Jesus, I feel strange. Yes, sad but also grateful because she had Alzheimer's and is now herself again. Also admittedly a little jealous because she is now in the presence of Jesus and probably holding my little Micah's hand. I do hope they found each other. No matter what your theology of heaven tells you, I know that my grandma and my first born are worshiping Jesus together tonight.

.

My Grams with Lucas in June '06

But this strangeness I feel surprises me a bit, catches me a little off guard. As I process this news and sort through the emotions of it, I feel inexplicably lonely and isolated. As I said, I didn't see her that often. But now I have no living grandparents and that feels strange. I am no longer anyone's granddaughter. I am daughter, sister, daughter-in-law, sister-in-law, mother, niece, cousin.... but not granddaughter. I just grew up a bit.

My parents both told me that everyone would understand if I didn't make it to California for the funeral. It is a week until Christmas and I have a 4month old. But I feel the need to go. Not really to see my family, though that will be nice. Not to make an appearance. I am going to validate a relationship that is significant to me, to my boys. I am going as my way of saying that I loved her deeply and treasured her role, even if somewhat limited, in my life. I am going because she was my grandmother, a woman who I am forever connected to and thus my boys are too.

She was a strong woman who survived two husbands, a son, a grandson, a great grandson, and her beloved dog. She loved to play video poker and slots in Vegas and smoked like a fiend. But she was tender and genuine and very much a part of me. She loved the color purple, ice cream, and anything with dogs. It has only been in the last few years that she stopped sending me sweatshirts with puppies on them for birthdays and Christmas. She always sent cards for mine and hubby's and Lucas' birthdays even in the throws of Alzheimer's. It was like the last piece of her that always remained in the now. I made her a quilt a few years ago with squares for each person in our family and she displayed it proudly on her wall. Right next to the picture I cross-stitched for my grandpa when I was barely 9 or 10 and all the family pictures she had collected over the years. I always found it funny to see pictures of Lucas displayed right next to a picture of me from 2nd grade.

I moved up on the generation ladder today. There is only one above me now. And that feels strangely lonely. I wonder how my dad feels, being at the top of that generation ladder now...

I grew up a bit today. She is my history, a piece of my heritage. And I will miss her. I already do.

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He Came to Complete my Brokenness

I have always been one easily moved by moments/songs/memories where I can sense something bigger than what is on the surface. I am a deeply emotional person, as are most women I guess. I cry during the National Anthem because of all it represents to me, all the people I know as a military kid who have sacrificed so much. I seem to cry a lot during worship when the reality of the words on my lips overpowers my soul. I tear up a lot this time of year because the beauty of the season (the lights, the carols, the traditions, ...) really touches me. I think about Mary and her journey to motherhood. I think about the deep, deep significance of Christ humbly coming to earth as a baby to save all people. But mostly, I get very emotional when I find myself in the midst of a moment with my loved ones, my boys... a moment where time seems to stand still and I am struck with the "big-ness" of life.

I had one such moment tonight... watching Polar Express of all things. I watched as my awe-struck, train-lovin' little boy sat and watched this movie with his eyes as wide as saucers. Every few minutes, he would turn to me and announce with exuberance the amazing thing he had just seen. "That boy is walking on top on the train, mommy!!" I smiled in response as my littlest boy sat cooing in my lap. Lucas eventually made his way down to the floor where I was sitting with Caden and climbed into my lap. I had both my boys, contentedly sitting with their mama, all snuggled up against my chest. The beauty of that moment was not lost on me. And quite predictably, I started to cry. I held them close and tried to drink it all in. My boys, two of them anyway. Lucas was once this small and how fast the time will go with Caden too. The days are not too far off when they won't want to sit with mama anymore. But my tears were not for how quickly my boys are growing up. The emotion of the moment was simply having them at all. Having lost my first, having moments to hold and kiss these two will NEVER be lost on me.

I was asked by a friend today if having Caden now makes my family feel complete. I answered with an emphatic yes, because he really does in so many ways. But not completely complete. Holding my two boys tonight and watching the wonder on Lucas' face, I felt warm and full. Yet empty. I squeezed them both to savor the moment, these seconds where I feel so grateful for being their mother. I am overwhelmed by the enormity of this calling at times, but can't imagine anything I would rather be called to. But it is also in these moments of maternal clarity that I feel the deepest joy and grief all at once.

This same friend blogged today about missing her baby she hasn't met yet. It is about such a deep longing, a physical need to be connected to that baby and touch him and see his face. I know that pain. I am feeling it right now. I can hold and touch and kiss two of my babes but the one I cannot will always leave a big hole. Even as I sit here and type and weep, I try to remember what is was like to hold him and touch him and kiss his soft skin. And it is hard to remember. So I lean down and kiss Caden instead because it helps soothe my maternal aching. My longing does not lessen my love or appreciation for the special moments with Lucas and Caden. If anything, it deepens it. I want ALL my boys. I long for it. Longing doesn't even scratch the surface. And I know it will never be so here on earth and that is why I will never be completely complete.

In this season where we celebrate God sending His Son to earth, I am moved by so many things. Precious moments with my boys, the simple beauty of a brightly lit tree glimmering through the snow, the words and peaceful music of the carols, ... But mostly, I get emotional when I am reminded of the truth that Christ came to earth not just to save me, but to make me whole. To heal the places where I am wounded and raw and longing. To complete my brokenness. And when I look at my boys and hold them close, I know the He came to heal their brokenness too. My little Micah is is heaven, also now whole. And although I long for the day when I can hold him and kiss him and tell him how very much his mommy has missed him, I am oh-so grateful for moments like tonight when God reaches down and opens my eyes to the amazing gifts I have right here in my lap. I am the mother of three boys, and I can kiss two of them. So I will. Every chance I get.

P.S.~I just read this over before clicking "publish" and it seems a bit jumpy. I don't know what to do about that so I apologize to those who actually read this far down. It is the result of trying to transform my raw emotion into cohesive thoughts and it is harder than it seems. But it is helpful for me to have an outlet for this raw emotion and to process it all. So thanks for bearing with me, if you were able to follow me. Consider it ramblings from a grateful yet grieving mama who is caught up in a moment of deep love and longing for all three of my sons. Longing for complete completeness that only God can bring. May God grant you, and me, His perfect peace.

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Give and Take

Tonight I found myself driving down memory lane. I attended an event up on the NorthShore and had to drive through my old neighborhood to get there - where I lived during my first pregnancy and all the events on either side. It is kinda coincidental that I would pass through there today, the National Day of Remembrance for Pregnancy and Infant Loss. I drove past the Chili's where I used to order my weekly boneless buffalo wings to satisfy my pregnancy cravings... the Blockbuster Video where Hubby and I got tons of movies during the last few weeks of my pregnancy and the first few weeks after to help take our mind off everything... the neighbor's house where I pulled over and threw up in their grass... Everything looks the same yet so much has changed, as evidenced by the sleeping (thankfully!) babe in the backseat.
The soundtrack for my drive tonight was a CD given to me by a close friend today at lunch. She said that two of the songs reminded her of me. One of the songs was about just needing to cry as a release of the emotion and grief that life sometimes brings. So as I drove down familiar streets tonight in the rain, that is exactly what I did. I cried unabashedly because I was alone and the memories just overwhelmed me.
I certainly still miss him, my first born son. Tonight the hole in my heart that will only be filled in heaven seemed to swallow me up as I relived all that was during that time. The fear of what would be, being a week past my due date and just wanting him to be born so that we could know what we were facing, having him grasp my finger in the delivery room as they wheeled him away, hearing the news that there was nothing they could do, sitting in the first pew and watching all my family and friends say goodbye to my precious son that we all hardly got to know.
Time seemed to stand still for that moment. And then almost as if on cue, Caden began to stir behind me. Yes, life has changed since those days. Feeling the emotions of loosing Micah while hearing Caden cry in his carseat, I was struck by God's give and take. He gave me Micah but then he took him away. He gave me His peace and grace as I mourned that loss. Then, He gave me Lucas to take away part of my emptiness. He gave me contentment and took away my control. He gave me Caden and took away any notion that I can do it on my own. Tonight, He has given me eyes to see all that He has given me even in spite of what He has taken away.

Thank you Lord for the perspective I see tonight. Thank you for giving me Micah, even if just for a moment. Thank you giving what we need and taking as You see fit. I trust Your Hand and know You are good.

My Boys and their cheeks Micah 4/20/04
Lucas 3/23/06
Caden 8/11/08

No denying they are all brothers or who their daddy is!! The cheeks run in the genes! :)

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Legacy

*This photo has been entered in 5 minutes for Mom's Mother's Day photo contest*

The events of my life in the most recent months and years have gotten me thinking a lot about legacy and what kind of legacy I will leave in this world. As we approach Mother's Day, it has been on my mind more than ever.

I took this picture myself about 10days ago at the site where I buried my first son. I wanted to capture all three of my boys in one picture. Because the more I think about it, the more I realize that all three are my legacy. The very different circumstances surrounding each one of their conception and birth and the ways in which I have had to be "Mother" to each of them - that is the legacy that I leave in this world.

I did not get to be a mother in the traditional sense to my first son and that has always left me with a big void in my heart. I sat at the cemetery last week, unsure of how best to remember my first son, with my 2yr. old playing under the trees nearby. He saw me crying and came to check on me. I could have left him with any of my friends to give me uninterrupted time to grieve and mourn. But as my son snuggled up next to me, I realized how glad I was that he was there. We had the most tender of moments - he asks why I am crying and I tell him it is because I miss his brother who is in heaven with Jesus. "I love brother Micah," he says and I start to cry even more. He rests his arm on my belly, on his baby brother, and the two of us look at the picture of Micah as I tell him about his big brother. There is a certain look on the face of a toddler, at least mine, when they are truly comprehending and soaking in what they are being told. Lucas had that look, as if he was "getting it" - beginning to understand that not only did he have a baby brother in mommy's belly but he has a brother in heaven that would have been super fun to play with. Giving Micah's life significance by sharing those memories with Lucas... that is one of the ways I am being a mother to both.

For the rest of the day, Lucas carried around with him that picture of his brother Micah. "I love brother Micah"... "I miss brother Micah too." "Me too," I would answer realizing that I was teaching my son about how to grieve. Not by sitting him down and having some intense conversation with him about his brother. But by holding his hand as we walk through all this together. During all the fearful days leading up to our ultrasound with this baby, I worried a lot about how I would help Lucas grieve the loss too if it came to that. And now I know... just like this. By letting him see me cry and telling him it is because of love and longing and that it is natural for him to feel the same.

This is what motherhood means to me. And this picture says it all. Taking the hands of the little people God has entrusted to us and teaching them how to walk through this life - both the easy and the hard. Of course, motherhood is about nurturing and protecting and all those other things too. But right now, to me, it is about holding Lucas' hand up to my belly so he can begin to meet his little brother and sitting with him as we look at pictures of his older brother so he can begin to know him too. My boys, all three of them - my legacy.

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