Dear Jonasen,

Last night I couldn't sleep.
For the next day I knew that I would be presenting Joe with a bible.  Though I knew about this for some time, I didn't know quite what to say.  How do you share your faith with an 8 year old?  How do you share experiences that have shaped your faith?  When I think about my faith much of it was carved out of pain... when I was in the trenches going toe to toe with God... wondering Why?

But in the end I knew he was real and I wanted nothing more than to share that knowledge with those I love, especially my children.

And so last night I sat down and began to write.  I wrote in Joe's bible all the things I wanted him to know.  I know that like all of us his walk in faith will have twists and turns and detours.  I do hope and pray though that he'll always remember this path that I am trying so hard to carve for him.

Here is my letter to Joe:



And if you'd like to see the actual presentation of Joe's Bible and my reading of the letter, you can click HERE.  My daughter video taped it for us.  There are many shots of our feet, but I am glad she captured the moment.

I'll never forget that first Mother's Day.  How bittersweet it was.  I had a beautiful baby in my arms but a huge hole in my heart.  I had a flower on my wrist and I remember those around me in church looking at me and smiling at me.  A sweet young mother.

What many of them didn't know was that whole story. That my motherhood didn't begin with the baby in my arms, but with his brother who was born one minute before him that September before.

They didn't know that I felt God that September night. Felt a presence that is indescribable.  One that I will never forget. I grew up that day.  I had a purpose.  I was a mother. But that first night being a mother, I looked at my first born one last time, kissed his forehead and whispered to him how much I was going to miss him.  And God knows I miss him still.

I am not alone.

Only after losing my Andrew and sharing his story with others did I realize that the pain that I had was not unique.  Friends who had had a stillborn baby, or miscarriage came to me~  Shared their stories~ Cried their tears~ Carried me.

I didn't know.

And you probably don't either. There is something about us. We have an amazing strength to smile again, to get up, to live life, to laugh... and still right there, just below the surface we have them there... with us.  Be it a child we held in our arms, a heartbeat we saw on a screen or a dream we had when we saw those two lines on a pregnancy test.  We remember.  We never forget.  We never will.  We are their mothers.  The one who loved them first and we will love them still until we take our last breaths and join them once again.

I'm sad that I am part of this group, but I am proud.  For no where in this world have I found the love and support and undying kindness like that of a bereaved mother.  One who walked my shoes. One who would carry me when I could not walk it alone.

Thank you.

Thinking of all of you on this International Bereaved Mother's Day.
You inspire me with your stories.  With your strength.  With your love.

Wishing you peace~
Hugs,
L

The things we can't change

I was just thinking of that puppy.  The one you saw when you were in third grade that you KNEW you had to have.  The one you had already named and whispered to saying, "You are just going to love your home.  We are going to have so much fun together!"

I was just thinking about the job interview.  The one that you nailed!  The one that you knew would be yours and you started thinking about the commute and how you would set up your classroom when your 5th grade students arrived in the fall.

I was just thinking of that boy... the one you fell in LOVE with when you were 12.  The one that had the last named that you were sure would be your own and practiced writing over and over.  The one that made you cry heavy sobs when you learned it was never going to be.

Well... mom and dad said that puppy would get too big.  And that job... mom and dad said that would be a long commute.  And that boy... your folks said you'd be over him soon... Sometimes mom and dad are right.

The thing is Laura, you have learned that there are things that we can't change in this life even though you wish you could.  I wish your hair was thicker and that horrible twin skin that Andrew and Joe left you would go away (without the heavy price tag that a tummy tuck would bring).

But I want you to think about this...
Had you gotten that dog, there would have been no Jenny Puddles.  Could you imagine your life without that sweet dog?  ~The one you told all your secrets to- the one who you held, tears rolling down your face as she took her last breath...

Had you gotten that job there would have been none of them... All those children that you were meant to teach- those children that were meant to teach you.  You know their names... the students who you think of still and wonder if they remember you too... (They do!)

And that boy.  The one you cried for days over.  Look at your life, your amazing husband- the one whose kiss can still make you weak in the knees, those beautiful children that create the laughter in your home.  Let's face it.  It was a good thing that God never answered those prayers or perhaps more importantly, He answered them, NO!

But what about him?  What about that little boy that you loved and prayed for.  The one that you dreamed about.  The one that you dream about still?

What about her?  The girl you had thought would be a perfect little sister to your Ali Jane?

I have seen your tears.  Been with you on those nights that you screamed in the shower hoping no one would hear you (though they probably did).  I have watched you as you sat.  Silent.  Wondering.  Wishing. Missing them.  No one knew your mind, but I did.  And I was there.  I know you wondered where God was.  Did he hear your prayers?  Of course he did.  But why did he say "No?".

All of these answers you wanted now.  You wanted them yesterday and let's face it... you have had a pretty blessed life.  Not much struggle.  Not much pain (though I would never minimize your dog, your job, that boy...) But what about them.  Your CHILDREN.  That's when things seemed to change.  They were bigger.

Why them?

Laura, there are things that you can't change.

You didn't get that dog, but you fell in love with another.
You didn't get that job, but you had one that turned out to be perfect for you.
You didn't marry that boy, but the one you married is more amazing than any other boy you know (or will know!).
You didn't have those babies... you didn't get to look in their eyes... hear their laughter... feel their arms around your neck... hear them call you,

mom.

And you can't change that.

But
Laura, you know they are safe and that unlike that dog, job or boy you know they will see you again.  That you will see them again.  You know they are waiting.

God said, "No."
And in time you figured out there were others meant to be in your life.
Joey.
Ali Jane.
Zach.
Sean.
Lives you were meant to touch.  Lives meant to touch yours.
And you do.  And they have.
But they were meant to be in your life.  You were meant to keep their memories alive.  You were meant to write this, share them, show others...

There are things we can't change,
but hang in there- endure the painful wait.
Something is in store for you.
Someone, somehow is in store for you.
The next chapter is always better than the last.

A Dream I Had

I used to pray that he'd visit me in my dreams.

I'd heard of that.

Days went by.

He didn't.

Weeks went by.

He didn't.

Years went by.

He didn't.

And then last week I had a dream. I thought it was him. It was a little baby and I wondered if it was him~ And then the strangest thing happened. I looked to my right and I saw a little girl about three years old. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. She had short blond hair and the most beautiful smile on her face. She was dancing. I saw her face. I knew in an instant it was her.

~E~

And she was smiling.

I felt such a love and peace that I wanted to stay there in that moment forever and just watch her. Smile at her. I know she saw me too and that filled me up in ways that I didn't think a simple dream could.

I saw her smiling and her hair spun around as she turned to go. First she waved as if to say, "I'll see you again mom." I wasn't sad to see her go. She was happy and I saw that and I knew that. I was happy she came to me.

Yes my love, I'll see you again.

I prayed to be visited in a dream but what I didn't know was it wasn't Andrew I needed to see, it was her. I didn't quite know what the dream meant. I wondered about it but just kept that warm feeling with me all day. I didn't share it. I kept it to myself. A little secret just between me and her.

But I wondered who that baby was... I didn't give it much thought until now...

I got some very sad news today. A very dear friend found out that she had lost her baby. When I first found out, I sat in disbelief. I couldn't wrap my mind around it. I thought there must be some mistake... but no. I know (all too well) that the absence of a beating heart is not something that is mistaken.

I cried for my friend and memories came flooding back that day. To E.

I couldn't talk. I sent out a text that simply said, "Baby's gone." I wonder if others sat and felt the same way I did today. Shock. Disbelief and then sadness. Sadness for my dear friend.

And I, the one who seems to have words coming out of her pores has no words. I have no idea what to say. How to make it better. I wish I could make it better. You know I wish I could make it better.

As I sat and thought, and cried, and sat some more my thoughts went back to my dream. To that little blond girl that I knew without a doubt was my sweet E and I thought that perhaps that baby was your's, my friend. I wonder if somehow they came to me to let me know that it is OK. They are both there. They are both safe. I know it is hardly a comfort right now as the what-ifs and what-could-have-beens take you prisoner. But this I know~ they will eventually loosen their grip on you. And I do pray that one day you will feel that peace and perhaps be visited in a dream by a sweet babe that smiles and waves and lets you know from the depths of your soul that it is OK. They are OK. All will be well. I pray that that feeling will one day fill you up to overflowing.

Until that day I am thinking of you my friend and praying so very much.

You know I am here to talk (tonight, tomorrow, next, month, or next year). I am here to talk or listen or simply to sit in silence. Cry.

I love you.

(And others who you don't even know are praying for you too. Hopefully anyone who has read these words will also keep you in prayer. Even though you may not believe, I do hope you find that to be a comfort.)

(((Hugs)))

~L

Don't Should on Me!

Don't Should on Me

There is a tremendous value to talking to someone... talking with someone... someone who has been in your shoes, walked your walk.

I remember in early months looking to those women who had been attending group meetings for months, even years... watching them. They may have given me the same words as someone who had never walked my path, but their words I heard... Why? Because they knew. They understood what simply isn't understandable... unless you've walked that walk.

I could write pages on what not to say to someone who has lost a child. In short, my best advice would be "be slow to speak and quick to listen". We live in the days of Dr. Phil and reality television where problems seem to be wrapped up in 30 minutes. Solved. Better.

People want that for you. They want you to be better and when their calendar thinks you 'should' be better, they will start handing out their advice to you. Giving you their 'shoulds'.

You should be over this by now.
You should be able to go to that baby shower.
You should be thankful you can get pregnant.
You should...

Those shoulds may or may not be great advice but unless you have worn those shoes, your 'shoulds' may fall on deaf ears, on angry ears, on defensive ears. Ears that will take your shoulds, file them away and bring them out in a blog, meeting or coffee with those of this 'secret society'.

I heard some wonderful words from a friend at one of those recent meetings and she was sharing the words of another. Words that were great advice whether the speaker had walked our shoes or not...
DON'T SHOULD ON ME!

The thing is the people that you think 'should' be feeling better want to feel better, but they are not ready or they just can't and your shoulds will just push them further from discovering their own truth and finding their own peace.

Don't should on me!
Great advice! For everyone everywhere but particularly for those who don't need to hear your "should" anymore. So be a friend, be an ear, be a shoulder. But don't be a should-er.

A walk of faith (different shoes)

I've been thinking.

I've cried the last two Sundays in church while singing. Because I've been thinking of him... missing him...

When I hear from readers of this blog, it is usually for questions of faith. I know that those questions and emails are because people want to believe. They want it to be OK, but they just don't know how. The pain is too binding. The grief is too great.

I realize that my walk in faith has been in different shoes than most~ shoes I would have rather not put on. A nurse friend commented on it just last month. She would never forget meeting me. How she recalled me saying how blessed we were on those days that September... And knowing that I meant it. Different shoes.

The one thing I have always been certain of is that when I have talked, God has listened. That sounds incredibly self centered and perhaps it is. He heard me when I told all those that came into that room that we were blessed (and I meant it). He heard me as I screamed at him in the shower, cursing Him as the water washed away my tears (and I meant it). He heard me as I begged him for release. He heard me when I was silent. He has heard it all.

He hears me still.

He hears me share the story of Andrew. The boy that He gave me once upon a time that lives in the heavens. He hears me share the story of Andrew and how Andrew brought me closer to Him~ to a God that I thought I was close with... but it wasn't until I stripped down the wall and let Him in to see the entire me~ the broken me~ that I actually got it. Oh yes my babies are safe. Oh yes they are in heaven. Oh YES! And yes. One day I will join them.

Andrew has opened doors for me to share my faith. To let people know that I have felt hell. I have felt that absence and brokenness~ a physical pain~ a suffocating pain. But I too have felt the exhale. I have sat still, eyes closed~ and felt it cover me. Embrace me. A love like no other. A peace like no other. Once upon a time I prayed that my children would "Populate Heaven" now I thank God for answering that prayer with a "Yes!".

Andrew.

You've done that.

You've given me reason to share the story of God each time I say your name. To let them know that it can happen. They can find peace again. They can find peace again and then they too can share it. Share it with the world.

There are days it seems too big for me. Too enormous for words. And that is when I am still and let Him shine. For without Him I am nothing.

Like every woman who has a child I knew what a miracle it was. Ah~ when I became a mom. When I looked at him. When I looked at that beautiful baby and knew somehow in my soul that it was going to be OK.

I would be OK.

It was OK.

He was OK.

But still I think of him so often. I wonder if he thinks of me. I wonder if he knows how I share his story. I wonder if it makes him smile, like he makes me smile~ even through my tears.

But still I think of Him so often. I know He thinks of me. I know He hears me share His story. I think it makes Him smile~ perhaps through His own tears.

Thank you for the gift.

~Peace~

May it find you.

A Song for You

I remember in those early days finding songs that spoke to me. Made me think of him. And even now, I will hear those familiar notes and they will bring me back to that time and place~ those days where it was so raw and I wondered if I'd make it through another day.

But I did.

And when I think of those days and what got me through, I think of those mothers that went before me. The ones that gently told me to breathe in and breathe out. The mothers who took my hand, cried with me and told me I was not alone.

Today I was driving and I heard a song that made me think of those days, those people and those of you who may need it.

Wishing you peace,

L

To view this on YouTube click HERE.