For Grieving Dads

I am thinking of all the grieving dads out there today. For those who do not know, Nan and Mike have created a Forum for Grieving Dads. Please click on the picture above to learn more about all the amazing work they are doing.
I'd also like to wish a happy father's day to an amazing dad I know an ocean away. His words have taught me so much and while I do not want others on this journey, I'm glad that he is walking it and sharing himself with those who need it. There is no doubt that Abigail is looking down and smiling at the amazing Dad God chose for her. Happy Fathers Day!

So dads everywhere,
Wishing you peace.
Always.
Hugs-
Laura

PS. Please grab Nan and Mike's button and put it on your blogs for others to learn about it and if anyone knows how to make a blog button for un-tech savvy me, shoot me an email. Thanks all!
Blessings!

Dear Dad,

Dear Dad,

I've been watching.

I've been watching you for almost seven years now. I remember how your face looked the moment you learned that I was not going to be coming home with you. I remember how you prayed to God that somehow there was a mistake, that they were wrong, that I would grow and flourish in your home, with you and mom.

I watched you. I was with you when you hurt. I wish you could have felt me. I was there next to you all along and my only wish was that you could feel my arms as they wrapped around your neck. Could you feel me there? I know there was so much that you wanted to teach me, but I'm here to let you know I've been watching. And you've been teaching me still.

You have been a source of strength when you didn't think you could be. I know that you remember me in quiet times in your way when no one else sees. I have watched you and I hear you. I hear your prayers, your songs, your words. You have shown me that a father's love is a love that cannot be broken.

I want you to know on this day, Father's Day, I am remembering you. The one who wanted me and wants me still. I want you to know that I'm watching as your love continues to grow. I hear every word, I know every wish. I want you to know that I'm watching and waiting. For I know that one day we'll be together again and then I will be able to show you, return the love you so unselfishly have given. You've given of yourself. You've given to mom, to my brothers and sister and you've given to me.

Close your eyes dad. Know that I love you. That I miss you and that I look forward to that one day when I can look into your eyes and tell you that.

Happy Father's Day Dad.
You're amazing and you're not forgotten.
Not by me.
Not ever.

Beautiful

Waves.

She's never known a pain like this. For months she carried them. Dreamed of them. Wished for them and in a matter of moments it was gone. A bad dream. And while she tried to wake up, she couldn't. Sometimes she tries to wake up still. A bad dream. A terrible dream. And perhaps if she tries hard enough she can see him, hear him, wrap her arms around him... but he's always beyond her grasp- beyond- and it hurts. It hurts that he's gone. That he's not coming back- pain like this. Hurt.

She stands alone. Wondering if anyone has felt this way. Surely no one who has lived. Felt this way. Cried these tears. Tears that don't stop. Tears for him. Tears for her. Tears so she'll remember. Tears that they may forget. Tears that come still when others think they have long since dried up. Alone.

All that she's done is fail. Looking around she sees children. Everywhere. Children laughing, and smiling. Children who are full. Children who had mothers who brought them here safely. Kissed them in the night. Held them close. She failed him. He's gone. And had she gone in earlier- done things different...

Hang onto hurt. She did that. She did that for a long time. And when she finally began to let go, loosen her grip on it, it was too much to bear. She crumbled. Her grief was her's. A way to feel close to him again. To show her love for him. Can you let go and still hang on?

If you've been there, you know

If you're still there, hang on.

We're all dealt our lumps of coal.

But what you do with it can turn beautiful.

Beautiful.

Peace. Peace from a little boy who sent it to her on that dark September night. The night he was born to the heavens. She felt a peace she will never forget. A peace that she will hold onto until the day she joins him. A peace she can see when she closes her eyes and can see them. Walking hand and hand into the most beautiful light. Laughing. running. Because they know. They know her love still.

Beautiful.

You're not alone. She has an ear. To listen and to cry and to feel. To feel deeply because she's been there and she knows the pain. The pain of being so close and losing it all. The pain of dreams that are snatched away before they've even begun. An ear that will never let you feel alone.

Beautiful.

A voice. To share her story of the deepest pain and the greatest love. The pain of a mother who lost but gained. Gained the love of a boy who knew her love before he took his first breaths- in a world beyond her own. The love of a boy that felt her heartbeat, knew nothing but warmth, nothing but love. She'll share his story. His lessons. His life. Because it mattered. It matters still.

Beautiful.

Moments. Moments to pause and remember and love. Know that it doesn't end here. This is where it begins. This is where your story starts. Look at today. At your choices. Choose the one they'd want you to choose. Choose the one you gave them while their heart beat inside of you. Choose Love.

It's beautiful. Isn't it?

There's a life outside of your madness

And there's a face behind every scar

There's a love overflowing with gladness

Get out of that place that's restraining your love.

Break free.

They'd want you to.

If just for today.

If just for a moment.

Beautiful.

Ugly Me.

I try to hold on to hope.
I always have.
Even that night.
Six Septembers ago.
I talked about how blessed we were.
The peace I felt.

And it was all true.

But that is not the whole story.
There was an ugly me.
Gripped by the pain of what had just happened.
Gripped by the horrific thought that my baby was dead.
Dead in the next room.
And I couldn't bear to see him again.
Not that way.
There was no peace in that.

All true.

And I hear of people who are pregnant.
Pregnant after years of trying.
Pregnant with multiples.
And I am so happy for them.

All true.

And still- almost seven years later-
I feel it creep upon me.
The jealousy.
Why do they live?
or more importantly...
Why didn't he?

All true.

Jealousy rears its ugly head.
And normally I keep it at bay.
Normally.

In those early years I would write in my journal.
The ugly me.
So raw.
So real.
I would write through the pain-
Tear-stained face-
clenched teeth-
Tight hands.
The ugly me.

I worked through it and learned more and more about her.
When she would come.
And sometimes I welcomed her.
And needed her.

But every time- When I felt she would swallow me up-
my words would pour out upon wet pages
and the waves would subside.
And that peace I felt.
That peace I felt in that room- six Septembers ago-
Would return.
I'd return.

I know that my reality is this.
This is my reality.
My Peace.
My Jealously.
My Ugly.
My Me.

All of it.
Comes and goes-
Ebbs and flows-
Down again.

Jealous?
Yes.
The Ugly me.

Sums. (What's right)

We are the sum of our parts.
The sum of our experiences.

There is a reason why I keep his pictures in my room. For my eyes only. For only those who ask to see him. Those pictures are him. But they are not him. Not the way I remembered him. Not the way I see him now- six years old.
I keep his pictures in my room.
It's what's right for me.

There is a reason why I announced my pregnancies early. I shudder when I hear that they've waited to share their exciting news. The news of a new baby until that 12 week safe zone. Is 12 weeks safe? 20? 39? Safe? I had no safe zone. I needed your prayers from that moment- from the moment I saw two lines.
I announced my pregnancies early.
It's what was right for me.

There is a reason why I may leave early from that baby shower. Hearing the excitement, that the clothes are washed and put away- hearing that brings me back- reminds me of a girl I used to know- a lifetime ago- and sometimes I miss her- and sometimes I may feel that sorrow- that longing to feel what it would be like to be her once again- it brings me back and I may not want to share it with you.
I may leave early.
It's what may be right for me.

There is a reason why I speak his name. To remind you. To remind me. That I once was in love with a little boy that may just have lived in my home had I went just one day earlier. Just one sweet day. I once was in love, but he broke my heart and took a piece with him. I love him still.
I speak his name.
It's what's right for me.

There is a reason why I say I have four children at home. At home. Two words you will always hear me add. For two are no longer living in my home, but in my heaven. I forgot those words once. I will never forget them again.
I say those two words.
It's what's right for me.

I don't expect you to know or understand
why I do what I do,
say what I say,
or think what I think.

I am the sum of my parts.
The sum of my experiences.

What I do is not wrong or right but it is-
What's right for me.

And the sum of my parts changes- with each life I am touched by- whether I knew you for a moment or forever. I was changed. Changed by you. And along the way I've learned that what may be right for me, may not be right for you.
And that's ok.

They may not understand now.
They may not understand ever.
But you are the sum of your parts- your experiences.
Do it.
What's right for you.