Welcome, Baby Will!

I'm sitting here on my due date. Ever since we found out that another baby would be joining our family, we've looked forward to October 2nd. But we also assumed that we'd go past that date, since both Jack and Leah were born after 40 weeks. So imagine how delighted I am to be sitting here with my baby sleeping right next to me! Sweet baby boy decided to join us a couple of days early. This is his story.

I woke up at 2:30 in the morning on Sunday, September 29th with some sporadic contractions. I had actually gone to bed noticing them, but I was able to sleep through them for a couple of hours. I was awake from 2:30 until 5:00 and they went from 10 minutes apart to nearly nothing, so I went back to bed until the kids woke up around 7:00. We laid low all day Sunday, having contractions once in a while. By the end of the day, I was beginning to think we had another long labor ahead of us. I labored with Jack for 30 hours and with Leah for 28. I had really hoped to cut it down considerably this time. :)

I went to bed on Sunday night, again having some contractions that were manageable enough to sleep through for a little bit. By around 1:00 am, they were strong enough to keep me up. So I sat on my big exercise ball and listened to music and timed contractions. I'd had a feeling that things might pick up overnight, so I'd told Dan he should probably sleep downstairs so I didn't have to keep things quiet or dark. Contractions slowly progressed from 8 minutes apart to 5 minutes to 3 minutes. I knew they'd get stronger, but I was surprised at their frequency. I had been in contact with my midwife Kathrine for a couple of hours, and I woke Dan up at around 4:30 to help me. After an hour or so, we decided that we needed to make a decision about going to the hospital because if we missed a certain window of time, we'd wind up in about an hour of morning rush hour traffic. No thanks! So my dad came over to be with Jack and Leah and we left for the hospital at about 6:00 am.

We got to the hospital and checked in at the triage desk. A nurse hooked me up to the monitors for a little while and Kathrine checked me. I was at 3 cm and she could tell that the baby was still pretty high and needed to rotate a little bit in order to help me dilate more. I was a little bit discouraged at the number, and again was convinced that this meant another marathon labor ahead of me. Dan, Kathrine, and I walked around the hospital for a little bit to try to get things moving. Contractions had slowed down considerably since we'd left the house.

Once we were back from walking, I got back on the monitors for a few minutes and we chatted with Kathrine about what to do next. Since I wasn't progressing very quickly and I was at risk of getting over-exhausted before it was time for the real show to start, she suggested maybe going back home to rest (with a prescription for a stronger antihistamine to help me sleep). I knew this was a possibility, but I was also a little discouraged. But I was exhausted and knew that resting would be good. Before we did anything, she said, "Let me check you one more time." So she did and while she was, she said, "Hang on, I'm going to strip your membranes." So she did that and said, "Before I send you home, I want you to walk around for 30 minutes and come back here and we'll talk." So Dan and I left again and headed to get some breakfast. It was immediately evident that the membrane stripping (just the process of separating the bag of waters from the cervix--my waters were still in tact) definitely ramped up the contractions. I had three before we even left the building (we were headed to get breakfast in one of the Children's Hospital buildings), and I could hardly sit or eat without having to stop and focus on a contraction. After about a half hour, we headed back to my midwife. It was about 9:00 am at this point.

I again spent a little time on the monitors and Kathrine checked me. She said, "Okay, I'm happy with this. He's definitely starting to drop more. Let's see if we can get you in a room." I asked what my dilation was. "The number isn't important." I told her she sucked. :) But YAY, I was getting in a room and not going home!

We got into our room around 9:45. At 37 weeks, I had tested positive for Group B Strep. It doesn't mean much to carry it, but it's something that can be transmitted to the baby during delivery, so I had to have a round of IV antibiotics during labor. If things could be predicted well enough, they'd do the round of antibiotics exactly four hours before delivery. Unfortunately, we had no idea when he'd come. So they did the first round at 10:00 am and made plans to do a second round at 2:00 pm. My doula/photographer/cousin Renee came shortly after my first round of antibiotics were done. I continued to labor through extremely strong contractions. At one point I asked one of my nurses what my last dilation had been. She said 3-4 cm. I was surprised that was enough of a change to get us into a room, but pleased that it was better than nothing. But still--these felt like 7-8 cm contractions, NOT 3-4 cm contractions. That made me nervous.

After laboring for another hour or so, Kathrine checked me again. She said, "Oh, this is perfect. You're completely thinned out and soft, and he has rotated and dropped. Wonderful. Let's get in the tub!" I said, "Seriously? What am I dilated to?" She said, "The number doesn't matter. Let's get in the tub!" I told her she sucked again. :) As the tub was filling and the room was being transformed into "go time" mode, I overheard the nurses talking. They happen to need the actual numbers for my chart, and I heard them say something about 5-6. I thought, "Centimeters? There's no way I should be getting in the tub at only 5-6 cm." I know that sometimes the water can slow down labor, and that's really the last thing I wanted. But deep down, I would trust Kathrine with my life, so I trusted that she thought it was a good time to get in.

I got into the birth tub at around 11:35. The water felt amazing. The contractions didn't feel very different to me versus how they felt out of the water, but I could tell that the water helped me relax way more during the time between contractions. After being in the tub for about fifteen minutes, and during a particularly strong contraction, I said, "Um, urge to push! That can't be good!" In my head, I was still only 5-6 cm and I knew that if I felt the urge to push before I was completely dilated, I was going to have to fight that urge or risk making my cervix swell. Kathrine said, "That's fine--just go with it. Trust your body." So I let my body push involuntarily with the next couple of contractions. Before I knew it, his head was right there. And my bag of waters was still intact, which was amazing. I pushed out his head with one contraction and the water broke at that point. The rest of him came in one more push. (After Kathrine untangled the cord from around his neck--a nuchal cord is what took Hannah's life and I was fearful of seeing it again, even though it can happen and not be an issue at all). It was the most incredible feeling in the WORLD. I immediately pulled him up on me, and according to the photos that my cousin took, I started crying and stopped sometime a couple hours later. :) He was a little blue, which is common for water birth babies, since their head is still under water while their body is being born. And since the water had literally JUST broken, he had the amniotic sac stuck to his body. It was so crazy. (The fact that my water didn't break until his head was born was also good news on the Group B Strep front. They wanted the antibiotics in my system for at least four hours. We only got two. But Will never actually came in contact with the birth canal--he had the bag protecting him the whole time!)

William Joseph Bennett was born at 12:03 pm. I had gone from 5-6 cm to 10 cm in less than 20 minutes. And he was born about 10 minutes after I had the urge to push. From when I consider active labor started, he came in a reasonable 11 hours. Thankful he didn't follow in his siblings' footsteps on that one. :)

Once the umbilical cord had stopped pulsing, it was clamped for Dan to cut. We were separated and Dan was able to have some skin-to-skin time with Will while I got out of the tub to deliver the placenta. And while our experience up until this point was so ideal and amazing, the next 24 hours were a bit of a doozy. I ended up bleeding a little more than they would have liked, which made for a very "medical" postpartum recovery period. All in all, I lost about 2 1/2 liters of blood, but I luckily never needed an infusion.

Shortly after I delivered the placenta, Kathrine brought it over to me and said, "I need to show you something." She pointed out the cord going into the placenta and said, "This is what's called a Velamentous Cord Insertion." Basically, instead of the cord going INTO the placenta, it just attaches to the outside. (I had heard of it before because it's one of the issues they found with Grace, of The Missing Grace Foundation, after she was stillborn). It's (obviously) not always life-threatening, but it is concerning and it's something that should have been caught in an ultrasound. Kathrine said, "Let's just say this little guy had a guardian angel, and I think we both know who it was." And we cried. I looked up some more information about it when we were in our room later. When a VCI is caught via ultrasound, they will often induce labor early to avoid the chance that the placenta and cord will detach from each other. There are also often complications if a labor goes on too long. So what I got from that was that God clearly had his hand on this baby, and the fact that I went into labor on my own before 40 weeks and had a considerably shorter labor than my first two babies was not at all a coincidence. I was also initially frustrated that it hadn't been caught, but I after thinking about it, I believe that God was protecting me from knowing about it. It would have been one more anxiety-producing contribution to this pregnancy. It was as if he said, "Will is going to be fine. There's no reason to make Erin worry about one more thing."

All in all, this whole experience was very healing. No, it doesn't mean that we're that much more "over" losing Hannah or Charlie. But we have safely welcomed a rainbow baby into our family, and we couldn't be more thrilled to have him here!

The bereaved are not immune

When you lose a baby (or babies), you are not automatically ushered into a life where your current or future children always behave angelically. Where your pregnancy goes by quickly and without pesky symptoms. Where your life is perfect.

Bereaved parents are not immune to the humanness of this life.

When we first attempted to navigate through life after Hannah's death, I remember being really angry with people who complained about their perfect, healthy babies. Or their children who had the ability to cry and scream and throw tantrums. And honestly, sometimes I still get angry. Some people are clueless.

But mostly, I've been forced to walk a very thin line between the bereaved mother who misses her babies and knows what a gift her children are, and a frustrated mother who just wants her kids to stop fighting, dang it! And she'd also like this heartburn to let up. And to sleep uninterrupted by bathroom breaks and hip pain.

Last week I had to stop at Michaels for one item. As I tried to complete my transaction with the cashier, Jack and Leah were arguing over who got to carry the one item out of the store. After handing the woman my check card, I turned to them and said, "You guys. It is not a big deal. Please stop." The cashier finished and the woman in line behind me drummed up her snottiest voice, looked past me at my fighting children, glanced back at my belly and said, "And you want to have another?" No, it wasn't even a question. Imagine it more as, "And you want to have another," almost with a disapproving shake of her head.

I wasn't sure what to say. I think I just looked at her blankly, gave a small chuckle, and left the store. I wanted to say, "Oh, if you only knew what we've been through to 'have another.' Then maybe you'd keep your disgusting mouth shut!" But I didn't.

As I've sat with this experience for a week now, I have a kinder answer for this lovely woman.

Yes, I do want to have another. I want to have another because I understand the beauty that comes with new life. And I appreciate that beauty even more now that I've had to give two of those precious lives to the Lord.

I want to have another because I understand that these sibling arguments will cease and I will long for the day when I can watch them fight again.

I want to have another because I know that these annoying pregnancy maladies will end and I'll be left staring into the eyes of a baby I've longed for for over two years. Eyes I didn't get to stare into when I delivered Hannah or miscarried Charlie.

I want to have another, even though he may scream and cry and cause us all to lose a little sleep, because I'll remember that I would have given my right arm to hear my stillborn daughter make a sound.

So as much as I was taken aback by the rudeness of this woman, she has made me aware of something. That I know both sides. And that knowing and living both sides is a gift. One of those gifts that you wish you hadn't had to accept, but one of life's curve balls had other plans.

It's having perspective and having grace. And remembering that I'm human.

And not immune.

An update of sorts :)

Hmmm. I've inadvertently taken a two-month blogging break. Yeah, things are a little crazy around here :)

For one, we closed on a new house on June 4th. We spent a little over a month fixing it up (lots of paint and random projects) and moved in on July 13th. Now we're just getting settled and unpacked and trying to get used to the fact that we live on the other side of town from where we used to. Nearly every trip somewhere makes me think, "Okay, how do we get to _____ from here?" I think I'm finally getting the hang of it. And the house is just amazing and exactly what we needed. A fresh start.

Oh, and I'm in my third trimester of this very complicated rainbow pregnancy. Complicated because each day is very different and unpredictable. One day I can be really positive and confident and actually picture meeting the little guy. Enough that I can even wash, dry, and fold tiny baby clothes and buy some tiny diapers and make a hospital bag packing list. And then there are days when I wonder how on earth I can just assume that everything is going to be okay. And my mind thinks of all of the things that can go wrong between now and when he is supposed to be born.

One thing that has really helped is seeing a psychologist who deals with helping women heal from past traumatic birth experiences. While re-reading a book about childbirth a couple of months ago, I realized that the fact that my last hospital birth experience was delivering my stillborn daughter might play a pretty big part in my experience this time around. So I asked around and found a wonderful woman in St. Paul. And I feel much better about going into another labor experience being aware of the things that can come up, but also being aware that this baby is writing his own story.

Eight weeks left (or closer to ten if he follows in his siblings' footsteps). Either way, October is going to be here before we know it. Which is wonderful. I can't wait to meet this little man whose feet are currently kicking just about right through my belly. :) I can't wait for Jack and Leah to meet him--they are so in love already, rubbing my belly and talking to him. And I can't wait to tell him about his other brother and sister who made it possible for him to be a part of this family.

Significant

It may appear to be a standard "belly shot."

This picture just happened to be taken last week when I reached 23 weeks and 2 days. A year and a half ago, 23 weeks and 2 days is when we met Hannah.

The whole week leading up to that day, I kept thinking "Hannah was probably gone by now." And as if on cue, baby boy would flip or kick to let me know that he was definitely not gone.

Our pastor was able to put some words to this complicated time for me in last week's sermon. We're studying Acts, and the last couple of weeks have focused on how we respond to storms. Sometimes we survive them, sometimes we can't avoid the bad waves and our boat is capsized.

The truth is, our boat DID capsize on November 5, 2011. I remember people telling me it was okay to be mad at God. And I knew that it was okay--that God could handle it. But I never felt that. I knew that somehow, in the midst of our pain, God was (and is) still good. And when we got pregnant again, we trusted a God we knew was good. And when that pregnancy ended too, we still trusted. What other option did we have? Sink in an ocean that had claimed our boat yet again?

My lightbulb moment last Sunday came when our pastor explained why we continue to trust when things go wrong, particularly repeatedly. We trust because he has proven to be trustworthy by the work he did on the cross. We're not just trusting because it's the right, godly thing to do.

So I've made it past the point where we said hello and goodbye to Hannah. This is the most pregnant I've been since March of 2009 when Leah was inside me. And obviously making it past this point doesn't guarantee us anything. We aren't promised a healthy, living baby just because we've made it to ___ weeks. But that doesn't mean that I have to spend the next 17 weeks in fear. I will continue to trust. To trust a God who is good. A God who gives good gifts. A God who will carry us through whatever lies ahead, whether than includes parenting this boy in this world or not. A God who has given us good reason to trust him.

*If you're interested in checking out the whole sermon, you can watch here: http://vimeo.com/67560859

Mother's Day

As I said on Facebook, Mother's Day is complicated. I understand both the joy and pain of this day.

I came across a blog last week and want to share part of the author's (Amy Young) post:

To those who gave birth this year to their first child—we celebrate with you

To those who lost a child this year – we mourn with you

To those who are in the trenches with little ones every day and wear the badge of food stains – we appreciate you

To those who experienced loss this year through miscarriage, failed adoptions, or running away—we mourn with you

To those who walk the hard path of infertility, fraught with pokes, prods, tears, and disappointment – we walk with you. Forgive us when we say foolish things. We don’t mean to make this harder than it is.

To those who are foster moms, mentor moms, and spiritual moms – we need you

To those who have warm and close relationships with your children – we celebrate with you

To those who have disappointment, heart ache, and distance with your children – we sit with you

To those who lost their mothers this year – we grieve with you

To those who experienced abuse at the hands of your own mother – we acknowledge your experience

To those who lived through driving tests, medical tests, and the overall testing of motherhood – we are better for having you in our midst

To those who will have emptier nests in the upcoming year – we grieve and rejoice with you

And to those who are pregnant with new life, both expected and surprising –we anticipate with you

This Mother’s Day, we walk with you. Mothering is not for the faint of heart and we have real warriors in our midst. We remember you.

Nothing can separate us

I was reading the One Year Book of Hope last night before bed and loved their "amplified" version of Romans 8:38-39, so I wanted to share it here. :)

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life [not cancer, a car accident, crime, or calamity], neither angels nor demons [not evil in the media or crazed psychopaths], neither the present nor the future [not any current crisis or any tragedy that may be in my future], nor any powers [not a demanding boss, a cruel dictator, or a blood-thirsty terrorist], neither height nor depth [not winning the lottery or losing my life savings], nor anything else in all creation [not a hole in the ozone, a forest fire or a hurricane, a hungry shark or a killer bee] will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

Blessed ♥

Book recommendations

I recently added two books to the Resources tab and wanted to review them briefly.

He Heard Hannah by Lynnette Kraft and Courtney Becker was brought up on a babyloss Facebook page and obviously caught my attention because of the title. And it was super cheap for the Kindle, so I grabbed it and ended up reading it last week. It's a fairly quick read and a really touching story. The book is written by both authors, each taking every other chapter. Lynnette and her husband have nine children, three of whom are in heaven. They lost two sons at or shortly after birth and their daughter Anna was born with a heart condition that they knew would eventually claim her life. Courtney (male) was the 911 dispatcher who talked Lynnette's husband Kyle through the last moments of Anna's life. This event completely altered the path of his life, and he eventually reconnected with the Krafts. The book is an amazing testament of how God can use the pain in our lives for good.

The One Year Book of Hope by Nancy Guthrie is a book I've had on my shelf for over a year. It came in a care package from a wonderful organization after we lost Hannah. It's by the same author as Holding onto Hope, which I read right before I lost Charlie and completely devoured and adored. It's a story of their grief journey, coupled with a study on the book of Job. The One Year Book of Hope is a daily devotional (but without dates, so you can start when you want and take as much time as you need). :) Each week has a different theme (such as "Brokenhearted," "Holy Spirit, Comforter," "Sovereignty of God," and "The Mysteries of Heaven") and begins with an introduction. There are then five days of related studies (with a scripture, prayer, and am opportunity for "digging deeper" in more scripture) and a closing day with reflection, meditation, and prayer. This book has been so refreshing, and I love digging in every day. If you're looking for something to read daily, I'd definitely recommend it.

Hope

I'm not about to tell people how they should grieve, but I do find myself saddened by the fact that more people don't live with hope. Being thrust into this babyloss community, I have a front-row seat to everyone's struggles. And sometimes those struggles are downright despair with no glimmer of hope anywhere.

Now, don't get me wrong. I have really hard days. I am sad that Hannah and Charlie aren't here. But there is always hope. The God who carried us through our losses still carries us today. I can't imagine how hard life would feel without Him.

The other night, I was driving home from St. Paul when this song came on the radio. It was totally a gift from God right when I needed it. A perfect reminder that He has been there all along. He IS constant, good, and sovereign.





You were reaching through the storm
walking on the water
even when I could not see
in the middle of it all
when I thought You were a thousand miles away
not for a moment did You forsake me
not for a moment did You forsake me

after all You are constant
after all You are only good
after all You are sovereign
not for a moment will You forsake me
not for a moment will You forsake me

You were singing in the dark
whispering Your promise
even when I could not hear
I was held in Your arms
carried for a thousand miles to show
Not for a moment did You forsake me

and every step every breath you are there
every tear every cry every prayer
in my hurt at my worst
when my world falls down
not for a moment will You forsake me
even in the dark
even when it's hard
you will never leave me
after all

not for a moment will You forsake me


Praying for friends today, wherever they are in their grief. Praying for hope.

Reflections on an unplugged weekend

I think it's fair to say that I've been rather disgusted by the overuse of social media and the personal devices that make it so easy to have everything we "need" right at our fingertips. From play dates where I had to compete for attention with someone's smart phone, to holiday gatherings where everyone was so plugged into their own little world, to this:

Really? And maybe this photo was doctored up, but the fact is that I don't think it would surprise anyone to see that the entire first family was on their phones during the inauguration. 

And then I came across this blog and these two posts in particular:

The Children Have Spoken

How to Miss a Childhood

And while I'm not personally convicted by these posts, they do make me really sad. Because I see it, too. And it's not just the parents who are plugged in. It's the kids sitting at the restaurant (or the checkout lane at Target or the doctor's office waiting room), playing on their parents' (or even worse, their own) iPad or smart phone. 

Now, don't get me wrong. Plenty of the apps on our iPad and Dan's iPhone are games for the kids (and some are even educational--bonus). Not to mention the access to Netflix. But we definitely limit the amount of screen time that the kids get everyday. And we certainly aren't taking these devices out of the house in a regular basis. But both kids are quick to ask, "Can I play the iPad?" if they are even approaching "bored" territory in their day. And the answer is usually "No," or "Okay, but just for 5 minutes."

But then I got thinking. Are our (general American family "our") kids programmed to be entertained by something or someone every moment of the day? Yes, they are. I notice it when Jack has more than a couple of days off of school. He's not used to the lack of constant classroom stimulation. And just the fact that my kids alone are so quick to ask for something to play with/on before they even begin to try to entertain themselves with something else was eye-opening.

So, I proposed a weekend of technology detox.

And the best part is that my family didn't freak out at the idea. They actually welcomed it. And I secretly thought that they were in for a rude awakening. :) After chatting with my husband, we decided on this past weekend--Friday night through Sunday night. And while I didn't want it to feel like a structured "thing," these were our basic ground rules:

Both laptops and the iPad were turned off and put away in our bedroom. 

Since we don't have a landline, our cell phones were placed on the counter in case we needed to be reached and were taken with us if we left the house--but only to be used for answering the phone.

Our only television time would be two designated movie times, with all of us watching the same thing together. 

Thank you, redbox.

And that's it. We started when Dan came home from work on Friday. And we survived! In fact, it didn't feel THAT different from a normal weekend. Here are some thoughts/highlights.

Both kids (okay, mostly Leah) would ask to watch something or to play with the iPad, but as soon as I said, "No, we're not doing that this weekend," they said, "Okay," and moved on.

A lot of the things we did instead of relying on devices are things we do all the time anyway: we ate every meal together, we read, we cleaned, we played with Legos, we did homework, we colored, we did laundry, etc. Getting rid of the devices didn't open up this whole world of, "Oh my word, look at all the stuff I have time to do now that I'm not tied to my smart phone!" And for that I am grateful. It let me know that maybe our "plugged in-ness" is at a reasonable, moderate level.

It was so quiet. Sometimes I'll turn the TV on to watch the news and realize a couple of hours later that I never turned it off, and we just get used to that noise in the background. But the quiet is so amazing. Even constant music via iTunes or Pandora can make me crazy after a while. I just need to hear nothing. Except for the owl that lives in a tall tree somewhere in our backyard. So awesome. :)

Jackson did two things that made me smile. After already getting his allotted 30 minutes of reading done on Sunday, he grabbed another book and said, "Could you set the timer for 15 minutes? I'm going to keep reading." :) Then out of nowhere in the car, he said, "I think we should unplug every weekend." I said, "I like the way you think!"

Logging back on last night was most disappointing! As I scrolled through my newsfeed, I thought, "Seriously? This is what I missed?" You all could have been much more interesting! ;)

So, there you have it. Am I leaving facebook or swearing off the use of devices? No. Although I don't know that I'll ever have the desire to move on from my basic non-smart phone. The break was nice, and I'm sure  we'll do it again once in a while. But I am also coming away from the weekend knowing that we have our priorities pretty well lined-up. There's obviously always room for improvement, and some days and weeks are harder than others in this area.

I'd love to challenge you to try an unplugged weekend. And I'd love to hear how it goes!

The Liebster Award

Sweet RaeAnne has nominated me for a Liebster Award!



This blog award is granted to up and coming bloggers with fewer than 200 followers who deserve some recognition and support to keep on blogging. What is a Liebster? Liebster is German and means sweetest, kindest, nicest, dearest, beloved, lovely, kind, pleasant, valued, cute, endearing, and welcome.

RaeAnne has asked 11 questions for the 11 people she nominated for the award. Here are my answers. :)

1. What do you love most about your baby/ies?
I have four babies. Jackson is almost 7, and he's the baby who made me a mom. :) My favorite thing about Jack is his heart. He is so kind and tenderhearted. Leah is my first girl and is 3 1/2. As my husband says, God literally put a ray of sunshine in Leah when He made her. And it's true--she just radiates joy. My third baby is Hannah, and my favorite thing about her is how much she has enriched our lives, even though she died before she was even born. She brought life through her death. My fourth baby is Charlie, and I love that I knew he was a boy. It is a small thing, but after two losses and questioning how much I actually knew my  body and the things going on inside it, I was thrilled to learn that my mother's intuition had been right. :)

2. What character from a book would you like to meet (even fictional ones)? Why?
Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe from Anne of Green Gables. It's a story I've loved for so long, and I'm re-reading the books right now. And they're just so fun. Anne is just so unique and amazing. And Gilbert is the quintessential literary gentleman.

3. If someone could bring you a meal right now, what would it be?
Soup! I am all about soup right now, especially with these sub-zero temps we've been gifted with in mid-January Minnesota. Brrr. I love a good tomato soup. Or chicken noodle. I actually have two soups that I found on Pinterest on my menu for next week--potato soup and tortellini soup. Looking forward to those dinners!

4. What is the best thing someone has said to you after your loss?
I can't think of a specific thing, but just acknowledging the loss and not trying to explain it. Saying something is important--staying silent is painful. And trying to explain it is ridiculous and usually results in something hurtful.

5. What reminds you of your babies the most?
Footprints remind me of Hannah. Even when Leah sees footprints, she calls them "Hannah footprints." :) I don't have a specific thing that reminds me of Charlie. Definitely seeing their names or initials in other places.

6. What's your favorite song/book/movie?
Song: Wow, this is hard! I feel like I have to pick one out of a billion good ones. :) In regards to grief, I really love the Steven Curtis Chapman song "Not Home Yet." Just a great reminder that as painful as life on this earth without our babies is, it's a drop in the pond of the eternity we'll get to spend with them. THIS isn't home.
Book: To Kill a Mockingbird. It's the first book I remember reading for school and not hating. :) And it's just amazing.
Movie: The Sound of Music. Classic. I've probably seen it a hundred times, and it never gets old.

7. Who do you admire most?
Oof, another impossible question. I'm going to have to pick more than one. :) First, my mom. She's one of my best friends and there are many things I love about her, but I admire her for how she faced cancer. It's been almost 9 years since her diagnosis and she faced it with confidence and grace. And survived, so that's awesome too. :)
I also admire my husband for breaking free from generational crap, for lack of a better word, and being an amazing and present husband and father.

8. What's one thing you wish people knew about you?
Hmmm. I don't think there's much that people don't know! I'm an open book. ;)

9. If you could visit any place in the world, where would you go and what would you do?
Either Hawaii or the UK. Our honeymoon was in northern MN in July, so I've always wanted to take a tropical trip with Dan. We'd do absolutely nothing but lay in the sun and relax. :) And Dan went to England and Scottland when he was in college and has always wanted to return. So I think that would be another fun trip.

10. What's the best date night you and your spouse ever had?
Our anniversaries are always pretty awesome date nights. It usually involves a restaurant that we'd deem too expensive any other night of the year. :) Last year was our 10th anniversary and we had dinner at Fogo de Chao (which rocked) and then went to Comedy Sportz (a local improv group that we also saw on our first date). It was a pretty fun night!

11. If you could redo your wedding day, what would you change/what would you keep?
There isn't much I'd change. If anything, I'd choose a different season. We got married on the hottest day of the summer--the dew point was literally over 80 degrees (making the heat index like 115 or something). It was insane. I would have much preferred spring or fall, but since I was still in school, it was much easier to do it in the summer.

For Ellen

One of my favorite famous people is Ellen DeGeneres. Her birthday is in January, and after a random viewer sent in a duct tape likeness of Ellen, Ellen decided to allow others to send in handmade "Ellens."

Well, how could I say no to that?

Meet crocheted Ellen.

Isn't she just irresistible? I know the skirt and the bow in her hair are a little far fetched, but I think the tennis shoes make up for it. And the hair was just plain ugly without the bow. :)

I'm also enclosing gifts for her nieces: an elephant for Eva and a pig for Perry.

Hehe! :)

Time stands still

While running some errands with the kids last night, Jackson told me, "We're making a star at school, and we have to write five things that we remember about 2012. I wanted to write 'My mom lost a baby,' but my teacher said it had to be stuff about me."

I said, "Well, I bet we can think of some other things to put on it. But that was sweet of you to remember Charlie."

"No, I meant Hannah and Charlie."

"Well, we lost Charlie in 2012. Hannah was actually in 2011."

"Wow, it's been a long time. It doesn't feel like it."

Tell me about it, kid!

Sometimes the fact that it's been over a year since Hannah was stillborn makes my head spin. And now that we're past the six-month mark of losing Charlie, it's even crazier. And it doesn't always hit me just how much life has been lived in the last 14 months. Sometimes grief feels all-consuming.

But then we have an amazing breakfast date with friends. Or I get to snuggle with my newly non-napping Leah or listen to Jack, my budding reader, read me a book. And I remember that we have experienced a lot in the last year+. A lot of pain, but a lot of life. A lot of life.

Happy New Year!

I remember exactly what I said on Facebook on December 31, 2011. That 2011 had kicked my butt and I was looking forward to 2012 with hope and peace.

And then 2012 sort of kicked my butt too. Crap.

So now we're entering yet another year. 2013. And what am I?

Glad for a fresh start.
Scared.
Hopeful.
Grateful.
Cautious.

I'm trying really hard not to brace myself for another butt-kicking. It might come, but I'd rather trust that God will carry us through whatever he has for us, just as He has so faithfully the last year+.

Dates

Some dates are so significant. And sometimes I hate that. It's one thing if the date is a birthday or anniversary--a happy event. But when it's the anniversary of your baby's death, or the due date of a baby who didn't make it, then dates kind of suck.

Today is a significant date for two reasons. First, it is six months since I miscarried Charlie. And second, today should have been Charlie's due date. Double whammy. Just another chapter in the book of Things Are Not the Way They Should Be. 

And subsequent loss is such a tricky thing. Because beyond the emotions of missing Charlie and wishing I really was 40 weeks pregnant, there is this counterpart that says, "There should never have been a Charlie! Hannah should be here, and she should be 9 months old." But she's not. So there was a Charlie. And now there's not.

Christmas butterflies courtesy of Carly Marie.

Bean Sprout Baby!

Last fall, I taught myself how to crochet. And as the fall progressed with all of its craziness, crocheting became very therapeutic.

After the holidays last year, I decided my very unofficial New Year's resolution would be to open an etsy shop in 2012. At with just a couple of months left in the year, I've done it!

Please, take a look! Enjoy! :)

http://www.etsy.com/shop/BeanSproutBaby

one year

Grief is funny.

Not "ha ha" funny. It's unpredictable and annoying. It's necessary. It's messy.

If someone had sat me down on November 2nd last year and said, "Here's what you've got to look forward to in the next year. Here are the losses, challenges, and CRAP that await you," I don't think I would have necessarily welcomed that news with open arms. "Bring it on! Let's see what we can handle!" No. Please just let me keep living my normal, easy life. Please.

However, looking BACK at this past year from here, having survived it, I'd do it again. What? Yes. I'd do it all again because we've not only lost this year. We have gained. We have been gifted with so much. Amidst the pain, there has been life. There has been hope. We have felt God near us in ways that we never have before.

Rather than get into this more in writing, I will share the video from this weekend's services. I was honored to  share our story during our annual "Novembering" services. It was a very sweet, humbling time.

My portion starts around 14:20 and runs roughly 9 minutes. But if you can spare the half hour, I think Steve's intro and closing are really poignant, and Wayne's story is very sweet as well. And the video ends with the scrolling list of names that our community has lost over the past year. Even when you don't know someone on the list, it's always such an emotional part of the service. Both Charlie's and Hannah's names are on the list, which Elizabeth Hunnicutt accompanied with her amazing song, "Grows Hope."

https://vimeo.com/52875936

(Sorry you'll have to deal with following a link. My non-premiere vimeo account won't let me embed) :)

Fall Garden

In fall
the garden is spent

having given its all.

Cucumber vines lie exhausted on the ground

Tomato plants list to one side

Cornstalks stand dignified and empty

Sunflower faces droop earthward, 

shades of their former selves.

All that has not been claimed lies moldering in the dirt--

          a bruised tomato, a forsaken pepper...

                    a misshapen pumpkin, a trampled stalk of beans.

What came from earth is returning

to the place from whence it came.

There is an intimacy here,

          in the fall garden,

                    gazing at living things in their demise.

I want to avert my eyes, avoid this tender grief.

Is this life or is this death? I cannot tell.

Ah, but there is beauty here

          amid all this death and dying.

To have given one's self fully

at least once

that is the thing.

To have spent oneself in an explosion of color

          to have offered one's body for food,

                    one's very soul for nourishment...

It is an unseemly generosity,

beauty of another kind.

In fall

the garden says, "This is my life, given for you." 

And we are fed.

Ruth Haley Barton

Sharing

On Thursday afternoon this week, I got an email from one of our pastors. He asked if I'd be willing to share some of our story during our annual Novembering (remembering lost loved ones) services next weekend. As in, during the main service. In our not-so-tiny church.

I said yes.

And then I felt like I was going to throw up for about the next hour.

But I knew as soon as he asked that it was something I needed to do. As I told him, any opportunity I have to tell our story and maybe help one person through our experience, it means that our babies haven't died in vain. That there is a reason for everything we've gone through in the last almost-year.

It's going to be a crazy weekend. The services are November 3rd and 4th. Last year, we found out Hannah had died on November 3rd and my induction began on the 4th. What a difference a year makes. We are also set to celebrate Hannah's birthday on the 4th, as well as attend a brick dedication ceremony where Hannah's brick is because we had one placed for Charlie as well. And then Monday is her actual birthday, and I'm sure I'll be a mess. Maybe I'll go to bed Monday night and, by the grace of God, wake up on Friday. Is that really too much to ask? ;)

Anyway, I'd greatly appreciate your prayers--right now, as I write out my story, for clarity. And next weekend, as I actually share, for peace and clarity. And that I wouldn't throw up, pretty much....

October 15th

In October, 1988, President Ronald Reagan proclaimed October as National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, stating:

"When a child loses his parent, he is called an orphan. When a spouse loses her partner, she is called a widow. When parents lose their child, there isn't a word to describe them. This month recognizes the loss so many parents experience across the United States and around the world. It is also meant to inform and provide resources for parents who have lost children due to miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy, molar pregnancy, stillbirth, birth defects, SIDS, and other causes."

The co-founders of www.october15th.com decided on October 15th as a day where communities could better understand the pain of those grieving the loss of a child or children--a day to reflect on their pain and embrace them in love.

If you or someone you love has lost a child, you are invited to light a candle tonight at 7:00pm (in any time zone) for one hour to honor those lives lost.

All historical information given is courtesy of www.october15th.com.

This is why

After an unfortunate run in yesterday with an anonymous comment on an old blog post, I came across this post today on Franchesca's blog. And it could not have been better timed. THIS is why I write. And it's why I don't just write about the pretty, comfortable stuff. Because grief isn't pretty or comfortable. It's messy. And unpredictable.

And so I'll KEEP writing. Just try and stop me. ;)

http://smallbirdstudios.com/2012/10/12/why-it-is-important-to-break-the-silence-about-baby-loss/

Last year

My dear friend Amy coined a phrase that I find myself using a lot lately.

The ghosts of autumns past.

Normally the change in the temperature, the emergence of fall decor, and the too-early-emergence of Christmas decor/music/etc would be a welcome shift from summer. But now it just conjures up painful memories.

We're getting to the point in the year that, one year ago, our lives changed forever. So the next month is full of dates that were just normal days one year ago, but that will now forever be significant.

One year ago today was my 20-week ultrasound. We got to see our precious baby (choosing to keep the gender a surprise) and marveled at God's handiwork of tiny fingers and toes. Halfway to March 1! We ate a celebratory brunch at IHOP. :)

I remember a scrapbooking retreat, a girls' night out, a parent-teacher conference. And I was pregnant. Blissfully unaware that just weeks later, I no longer would be.

Halloween is probably the hardest day to think about at this point. That was the last time I really felt Hannah move. It was the last big event before the rest of that awful week unfolded.

And then my mind moves beyond November 5th. To the first surreal days of this new journey. To fitting into regular jeans way too soon. To picking up my daughter's ashes. To a trip to Duluth as a newly bereaved family. To surviving Thanksgiving. To dreading December and the happiness of Christmas. Because I wasn't happy. I was broken. And mad. And not pregnant anymore.

So what do these ghosts of autumns past do? They make me want to crawl in a hole. To put on my yoga pants and take a nap for about a month. To hide. To wallow. To despair. But really? That would just be giving in to these ghosts. These ghosts that have no authority to touch me in the slightest way.

So here's to not giving these ghosts power. Because I truly believe in the One who wants more for me than to dwell on how hard things were last year. One who encourages us to have hope in the future and believe there are bright days ahead.

Hannah's birthday

November 5th is quickly approaching. And since there's nothing I can do to stop that date from getting here, I'm trying to embrace it and think of the ways we can celebrate her very brief life.

In March, I had some very sweet friends honor Hannah's due date by releasing pink balloons. It was the most touching gesture, and I love the idea of doing it again for her birthday. Our family will be visiting the Angel of Hope statue where Hannah's brick is placed and releasing a pink balloon from there. If YOU would like to join us virtually, you are invited to release one pink balloon on either November 4th or 5th. (Just because it's easier to get our family together on a Sunday rather than a weeknight, we will be celebrating and releasing on Sunday the 4th). If you do release a pink balloon, I'd LOVE a picture of it! Feel free to email it to me at erinmbennett720@gmail.com or post it on Facebook and tag me.

Prayer flags

A few weeks ago, Carly Marie posted something on Facebook about a project she was taking on in honor of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day on October 15th. She is inviting people to make prayer flags and send them to her so she can construct banners out of all of them for a ceremony she will hold at the beach (in Australia, where she writes all of the names in the sand). Well, a few of us decided to make flags and send them together to save on shipping. :) Our shipping day is Friday, so I figured this afternoon that I better get them done. And this is what I came up with! I knew I wanted their names and dates, and I added Bible verses to them. I had bought a few other things to decorate them, but I liked how simple they were with just the embroidery and a little bit of ribbon. So I decided they were done. :) Can't wait to mail them!

Missing out

Once in a while, I am hit with how much of Hannah's life we are missing out on. Jack is downstairs cleaning his room right now and I just heard him say her name. And then I imagined how we'd be hearing her name if she were here. "Hannah just rolled over!" "Mom, Hannah needs a new diaper." "Hey, I think Hannah just woke up." She should have joined us in March, so she'd be about six months right now. We'd be starting solid food. We'd be making her laugh. She'd be blowing raspberries and developing a distinct personality.

Sometimes I feel like I'm doing really well. And then sometimes I feel like this post happened a lifetime ago. I'm mad that I don't get to use her name to talk to her on a daily basis. And then my iTunes plays Steven Curtis Chapman's "Not Home Yet" and I remember that life on this earth is such a blip on the screen compared to what waits for us when we die.

But it still sucks sometimes.

Color Me Mine

A couple of weeks ago, my friend RaeAnne invited us to join them at Color Me Mine (a paint-your-own pottery studio in Maple Grove) on Sunday the 19th in honor of August 19th Day of Hope. Instead of all four of us going, I decided to take Jack with me for some art time. :) Luckily we were some of the first ones there because it took us a while to pick out what we wanted to make. Jack finally settled on a basketball piggy bank, and I picked out two small boxes, as well as letters to adhere to the top for Hannah and Charlie. It was a really fun experience--wonderful to sit and chat with RaeAnne, awesome to do something artistic with my little artist, and amazing to make something for my sweet babies who live in heaven.

On Tuesday, we got a phone call from Color Me Mine that our stuff was done and we could pick it up! So we did right away, because Jack was REALLY anxious to see his basketball. :) I don't have a picture of that yet, but here are Hannah and Charlie's boxes that I made!

So many feelings!

If I were still pregnant with Charlie, I'd be approaching the point in my pregnancy at which I lost Hannah. But I'm not pregnant. So this day/week that I anticipated being very difficult is, instead, quite different. I'm obviously thinking about what we were going through last November as we approached the 23-week mark. But since I'm not carrying another life, I'm obviously not fearing another loss. So it's mostly facing a date that should have been significant in my pregnancy after a loss. But now it will be just another day.

We spent the better portion of the last week up north with my family. It was a great time of relaxation and fun, and I had some time to do some reading. In addition to plodding along in Anne of Avonlea, I also brought Turn My Mourning into Dancing by Henri Nouwen, which I've been reading on and off for a while now. It's SO good, and has the potential of being a really quick read, but it's also so RICH. I feel like I can only handle a little at a time. Anyway, reading some of it this week has been quite timely and refreshing. I feel like things are starting to heal. And while I would give anything to still be pregnant with my sweet Charlie, I know that there is some healing from our first loss that is still taking place--healing that wouldn't be taking place if I was still pregnant right now. So for that, I am thankful. The future feels hopeful again.

Molly Bears

Shortly after Hannah died, I heard of a ministry called Molly Bears. They make weighted teddy bears for people who have lost babies (to weigh as much as your baby did). Their waiting list is opened up once a month, so I signed up at the end of November to request a Hannah bear. At number 1628 on the waiting list, I knew it would be a while (the waiting list is sadly up to over 4000). So I waited patiently until a few friends got their bears recently because I knew I wasn't too far behind them. And sure enough, earlier this week, I got an email notification that mine had shipped!

The really amazing part is that when we lost Charlie, I emailed them to ask if there was any way to add to my "order" rather than adding another bear to the end of the waiting list. Within minutes, they emailed back to say they'd be able to add a Charlie bear to our Hannah bear, who was already in production.

This morning, I happened to check the tracking number they gave me, and it said "out for delivery." And I didn't even care when the mail carrier banged on our door and woke Leah up. :) I sneaked the box into our bedroom to open it alone. The first thing I noticed was that the bears matched. Clearly one girl and one boy, but they were family. And although my babies were not meant for life on this earth, they are brother and sister, and it's only fitting that they should look like it. The second thing I noticed, as I lifted the Hannah bear out of the box, was how heavy 14 ounces felt. I remember Hannah feeling very light (after having nine and a half pound babies, anything would have felt light), and I assumed my Hannah bear would just feel like a normal teddy bear and wouldn't require much of whatever they use for weighting the bears. But there is a significant weight to her, and I love it.

Here are my babies! ♥

What Molly Bears does is so amazing, and they do it as volunteers of a non-profit. If you are at all interested in donating or learning more, please visit their website. 

Hope and Hearts Run

In a little over a month, we are going to take place in the 7th annual Hope and Hearts event, benefiting the Missing GRACE Foundation. Missing GRACE  provides resources and support to aid families who have experienced a pregnancy or infant loss, infertility, or adoption challenges and to advocate for proper management of pregnancies for all women. And as you know, we were very blessed to have Missing GRACE at the hospital when Hannah was stillborn. We've also benefited from their support group and other resources available at their Center for GRACE in Rogers.

On September 8, 2012, we will be walking in the Memorial Walk to honor our babies Hannah and Charlie, who are waiting for us in heaven. And if you are interested in joining us, there are a number of ways you can participate!

If you want to be there the day of the event, you can walk or run in the 5K or Memorial walk. ***If you are interested in walking with us as part of Team Hannah and Charlie, please let me know!*** You can also choose from a number of volunteer opportunities that day.

If you aren't able to be with us but still want to participate, you can make a donation! This is a link to the Team Hannah and Charlie fundraising page:
https://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/erinbennett/
Missing GRACE has been such a huge support for us in the last nine months, and I can't think of a more worthy cause at this point in our lives.

You can check out a more detailed list of all of the ways to get involved here:
http://hopeandheartsrun.org/minnesota/

If you have any questions, please feel free to email me at erinmbennett720@gmail.com.
Thanks so much!

10 years

Ten YEARS. That's nearly a third of my LIFE. :)

Ten years ago, while storms raged outside the doors and windows of our sweet little church, Dan and I became husband and wife.

The last ten years have held a lot. Joy. Heartache. Excitement. Sadness. Hope. But I can say with confidence that there's no one else in the world that I'd rather have spent the last decade with.

I love you, my dear! Ten years is a pretty big deal. But I can't wait for the next 50. ♥

three years

Leah Margaret!

You are THREE!!! I can hardly believe that just three years ago we were doing this:

And now we're doing this: 

We had a lovely, low-key Dora celebration over the weekend, complete with a Dora cake and LOTS of Dora presents. :) 

When I think about the last year of your life, it's so obvious how much you've changed. You've grown physically, and you have SUCH a little personality. It's beautiful. Like your daddy says, we're pretty sure God put a little ray of sunshine in you when He made you! You are simply delightful.

In addition to Dora, you are all about babies. In fact, you apparently have one in your belly! And tickling you too hard isn't good for the baby, as you have informed us more than once. ;) You also love to be in the water, and that's definitely a new thing this year. When we get our kiddie pool out, you are in it the whole time we're out there. And we've taken a couple of trips to the beach that you have thoroughly enjoyed.

One of your best friends truly is your brother Jack, which makes this mothers heart so happy. It's amazing to watch the two of you playing around, laughing, and being creative together. Not that you don't have your sibling "moments," but you are mostly pretty friendly. And the third piece of your friendship puzzle is definitely Lucy the cat. Whether she likes it or not (but usually she enjoys the attention), she is definitely the pawn in many of your games.

We are so looking forward to the rest of the summer and the next year with you. So excited to see what God has in store for you. We're so thankful for the beauty, energy, and life that you add to our family. Bless you in the coming year, sweet girl. 

We love you!
Love,

Mom ♥

Finally

I have been slowly collecting paper, printing pictures, and saving special notes. But tonight, just over eight months after Hannah's birth and death, I finally started her memory book.

Sure, it's just the first page. But I have a feeling this will be a lengthy process. Beginning was a necessary first step.

The heartbreak

My friend RaeAnne posted this article on Facebook and it's too good not to share. I found myself nodding along to so much of it.

http://www.jsonline.com/news/opinion/the-heartache-of-infant-loss-131289299.html


I could particularly identify with these:
It's resisting the urge to smack the clueless individuals who compare your situation to the death of their dog or who tell you you'll have another baby, as if children are somehow replaceable.
It's being shut out of play groups for perpetuity. It's skipping social events with expectant and newly minted mothers because, as a walking worst-case scenario, you don't want to put a damper on the party.
It's listening to other women gripe about motherhood and realizing that you no longer relate to their petty parental complaints because, frankly, when you've buried a baby, a sleepless night with a vomiting toddler sounds something like a gift.
Infant loss is pruning from your life the friends and relatives who ignore or minimize your loss. It's recognizing that, while they may not mean to be hurtful, the fact that they don't know any better doesn't make their utter lack of empathy one whit easier to bear.
Infant loss is more than an empty cradle. It's a life sentence.

It was a boy!

My midwife called about an hour ago. They were able to test the baby itself after I miscarried, and they got the results back this morning. There were 46 chromosomes, and they were able to see an x and a y. Baby Charlie was a boy! Of course, I knew it all along, but it feels pretty amazing to know for sure. It makes a very intangible loss feel more real. It was our son.  ♥

Father's Day

On this day last year, I peed on a stick and learned that a third child would be joining our family!

♥  Hannah  ♥

Significant

It's been a little over seven months since Hannah died. Except that seven months came and went before I even realized it. June 5th is the first "fifth" of the month that has gone by without me noticing. By the 7th or 8th, I realized that I had missed it.

At first, I was kind of sad. Maybe even mad. How could I not realize it was the fifth? How could it just slip by without me noticing?

And then it felt healing. It became clear that I'm getting to the point where I'm not focusing on dates. I have to actually think about how many months it has been when someone asks me.

Deep down, I know that I'll never forget the important stuff. Like what my daughter looked like. And how it felt to finally hold her. And how much it hurts that she's not here.

But I know that we're making strides in healing. And that feels good too.

Baby Charlie

Well, I am very sad to have to let you know that our sweet Hannah has a sibling in heaven. Last weekend, at 14 weeks pregnant with our rainbow baby, I ended up in the ER with some bleeding. They couldn't find a heartbeat, and an ultrasound showed that the baby had stopped growing at about 11 1/2 weeks. Thankfully, I miscarried naturally at home the next day.

We named the baby Charlie. We don't know if it is Charles or Charlotte, but it seemed appropriate to give the baby a name. Charlie had been our boy name when I was pregnant with Hannah, and it kind of carried over into this pregnancy. And recently I'd thought about how cute it would be for a girl, too.

We're so sad to have to say goodbye to another baby. But we're reminded that we're not in charge. God has bigger plans and so much grace, and He's so much bigger than our pain.  ♥ 

Fear not

"Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.
For I am the Lord your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior"

Isaiah 43:1-3

Time does not heal

I came across this lovely blog post today.


"If you know someone who has lost a child, don't assume they are 'over it.' It's something that never goes away."


http://www.rageagainsttheminivan.com/2012/06/what-i-want-you-to-know-when-it-comes.html

Angel of Hope

Back in December, we attended the Angel of Hope annual candlelight vigil. There are over 100 angel statues in the United States, and one of the two in Minnesota happens to be at the Maple Grove Arboretum. Each year on December 6th, they have a candlelight vigil to honor children who have passed away.

Through the city of Maple Grove, you can purchase one of the bricks around the base of the angel statue to honor your lost loved one. After being blessed with people's generosity at Hannah's memorial service, we decided to use a portion of the money to buy a brick. I knew it would be installed sometime late spring and assumed we would just have to go find it sometime on our own.

About a month ago, I received an invitation to a memorial brick dedication. They do this twice a year to honor the bricks that are installed in the spring and fall. So yesterday, we got to see Hannah's brick and honor her sweet life in one more way.

This is the angel statue.

And my sweet Jack and Leah placing flowers on Hannah's brick.

Thoughts on six months

My friend Beth shared this post from another blogger about the six month mark after losing a child. I can identify with so much of it, so I want to share it.

http://facetsoflifeafterloss.blogspot.com/2012/02/6-months-now-what.html

My silly kids

The other day, Dan and I were remembering a video we had of Jack singing at about age three. We watched it together and all got a big kick out of it.


Leah especially loved it and wanted to make her own version today!

Grief graphs

I came across these graphs made by a fellow bereaved mother on Babycenter the other day, and I wanted to share them.

Most of us think of grief like the first graph. We assume that grief gradually decreases as time goes on.

But grief is really more like the second graph. The "peaks" of grief remain as intense, or almost as intense, while the "good times" get longer and the peaks of grief get shorter. 

This illustrates something that is so hard for me right now. I feel like so many people just want us to be all better. To be at the bottom of the first graph--where enough time has gone by, so our grief is not as intense. But we will never be all better. The second graph will go on forever. 

In the beginning, I described it as two steps forward, one step back. We're in this constant motion of slowly moving forward. But some days (or longer), it's two steps forward, two steps back, over and over again while we just stay in the same place. Sometimes we graduate to three steps forward, but there's always that one step back. I anticipate that in the future, we'll get to ten steps forward, one step back. And so on. Walking in this grief for the rest of our lives, learning how to heal, but never getting all better.

I love them

Sometimes I am struck by just how much I ADORE my children. Jackson will do something that makes me realize how much he's growing up and everything he's learning. Leah will sing a song in a silly voice and make us all laugh. Or we'll read a book together and crack up at the end even though we've read it a million times before.

And then I get mad that I'm not continually falling madly in love with Hannah. Don't get me wrong--it was love at first sight. And I'll never forget everything about her sweet little body. But I don't get to KNOW her on this earth. I won't hear her laugh or watch her build an impressive tower of Legos. I won't sit and read her a book for the millionth time.

But then I remember that I'll get to spend an eternity with all of my babies. And I trust that God will use that vastness to redeem what we lost on this earth.

Reminder

"If you know someone who has lost a child, and you're afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died--you're not reminding them. They didn't forget they died. What you're reminding them of is that you remembered that they lived, and that is a great gift." 


~ Elizabeth Edwards

International Bereaved Mothers Day

To my fellow bereaved mothers.

You are beautiful.

This is not a group that any of us wants to be a part of. To have to wait a lifetime before we can meet our sweet child or children.

But whether we hold our babies in our arms or our hearts, we are mothers. God chose us for this very special job. He has trusted us to carry a life that will spend its entirety with Him.

six months

It's been six months since Hannah came into our lives. Six months since we welcomed her into our family and then gave her to Jesus. Six months since we cradled her earthly body, while her heavenly body was being cradled by the Lord.

Six months since we said hello, goodbye.