The Gift~ Understood

I've written this blog a million times in my head.

I've shared this blog a million times at meetings.

But I've never been brave enough to share it here until now...

For some reason, this has been the message that is swirling in my mind and I know it won't go away... until I write it down, so here goes...

Background:

I am a blue.

Teachers and anyone who has had 'colors' training' probably know what I am talking about, but the gist is... I care. I want you to be happy... I want to have peace... I want to be liked... I am outgoing and outspoken. I will be there for you. I am a "glass half full" because I want YOU to feel that way.

That's who I am.

More Background:

That's not quite who she is.

And from the day I met her, I felt I was trying to win her heart, just as I had won her son's- but he was the baby and I felt I had my work cut out for me. I think that she liked me... She always respected me. But at the end of the day, I married her baby~ took him out of his home town~ and brought him to mine. I never felt good enough. I became the "daughter-in-law" and now (having three sons of my own) I know how scary that must be to have another woman suddenly become the number one woman in your son's life (thankfully I don't have to think of that for a while).

My story begins:

A month before they were born, she was diagnosed with cancer. It was not good. She was very sick. She could not make it to the hospital. I know I made the calls but can't recall if I talked to her or him. I had told them they were boys- that one had died. No. Their son couldn't talk. He didn't have a voice. He couldn't speak and didn't for a day. And to this day, I don't know if he ever did talk about it with them.

He was able to come and see us. I loved him so much and I do believe that he loved me. I still remember his laugh- the sound of his voice and the words he spoke to me that day, "When I came and told them I was here to see Laura they said, 'The one who had twins?', and I told them, 'No! She had one baby!' Don't worry, I set them straight!'"

I looked to him with so much love and spoke to him so very gently for I knew he was just protecting me in the only way he knew how. I knew his intentions were good.

"No. It's OK. They're right. I did have twins."

And that was it.

That's all that was spoken of it.

Over the year though, I spoke a lot.

I fit his name in everywhere I could.

I wanted to make sure that they knew it.

Heard.

For they never spoke it-

Though I desperately wanted them too!

But I am blue. I am determined. And I couldn't give up.

A month after my boys were born, he was diagnosed with cancer.

And he was sick.

Very sick.

The cancer took him within a year of diagnosis and still today I can't believe that he is gone.

I still remember his laugh, the sound of his voice, and the way he made me feel that I belonged.

I was there when he took his final breath and left~ flew away too soon~ just weeks before September 15th.

I was in the room.

And I will never forget it.

In the year that passed, I continued to send her letters~ "Well Wishes" and "Thinking of Yous". I had already survived the first year of a broken heart and I knew that though our grief was different, we both shared that brokenness. I knew what it felt like when that phone stopped ringing and though I couldn't bring myself to call, I couldn't stop writing either.

Writing was my shield- I didn't have to see the reaction~

But still I talked.

And said his name.

And waited.

But nothing.

I was a bit discouraged, but realized that what is comfortable for me, was probably not comfortable for her and as time went by I learned more about her, more about my relationship with her and I chose my moves carefully~ I am blue. I am determined. And I wouldn't give up.

Each time I wrote I would sign all our names~ three names~ and a butterfly~ a butterfly always attached to my son's name.

And still I waited.

But nothing.

The year anniversary of her husband's death was coming up and though my husband had forgotten the specific date, I knew she wouldn't... and I hadn't. I thought about it for weeks, what to do, how to say "I remember too! I know you are hurting! I know you still think about him every day! I do too!" I prayed about it.

I made a card.

I put a blue butterfly on the front and used blue chalks to blur the wings so carefully.

And though my previous cards could be quite wordy, inside I wrote just two lines:

Sometimes they fly away too soon.

Thinking of you.

~ Laura

I waited.

But nothing.

The next month, on September 15th (his second birthday) I got a sympathy card and it remains my favorite gift she ever gave me. The gift of understanding. I have it still and I treasure it more than she will ever know.

I waited. And it was worth it.

She understood.

And she remembered.

In her own way. In her own time.

Don't give up.

Sometimes it takes life to open your eyes.

Sometimes it take life to open theirs.

But in the end, we all feel~

And we all long to be

Understood.

This Side.

It's been a while.

Eight years this September since my life went in a direction I never imagined it would.

Eight years...

Over that time, I have had about every emotion, every feeling a person could have (and then some). And even through all the suffering and pain, I have come out stronger and better on this side.

I truly believe that every person that I have met- every small interaction (be it a small conversation with a stranger or an email with someone I will never meet) has somehow changed me- in one way or another- formed me. Every single event has brought me to this moment and who I am right now- as I type these words.

And because I am writing this on my "Pause" blog, it would make sense that I talk about that person- that moment- that helped me realize that each person- each moment- has a lasting impression- no matter how long that person was in your life-

It may be just a moment-and yet that moment will change your life~ forever.

I remember being at the cross road- and just like Robert Frost wondering which path I would take but being in such a fog- probably not able to make much of a choice one way or another- probably forging a new path entirely- on my hands and knees...

Recently at a support meeting, I met a new mom. A young mom- just 19. She had just lost her baby- the feelings were so raw- so new. She was there with her mom and her daughter's father and my heart broke as her mother questioned aloud, "WHY?" "Why would God do this? There is no purpose? There is no reason."

I felt the heaviness- and recognized my old friend, despair. I wanted to reach out and somehow tell them- tell them all- hang on! It will get better!!! But I didn't dare. I remember those were the words I hated most- "It will get better 'in time.'" Will it?

The truth is- it did, and it does- but not the way the phrase makes it seem- I learned to live with it- deal with it- and see the blessings in spite of it. So in that moment, I prayed and searched for some way to let this broken family know that it does get better- it can get better- and you can find purpose...

I looked in the mother's eye and shared my story...

15 months after I lost my Andrew, I had a little girl. A healthy little girl who was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I experienced a delivery as it "should be" and even commented on how bright the operating room was (such a foolish thing I realize now since of course the operating room when I delivered Andrew and Jonasen was equally bright- but had a dimness about it to me...)

We went home with our (now) babies and after a few weeks, my daughter started crying... and crying... and crying... and nothing would soothe her. We walked miles of floor with her. We took her on drives. We put her in her swing next to a running vacuum to drown out her cries. Nothing helped. I felt like a failure. I could not soothe this little babe. I was doing something wrong but try as I may, nothing worked. I was exhausted and frustrated and heartbroken. Perhaps I was not cut out for this. This was too much. Perhaps I wasn't meant for "babies".

It was in those moments that I would walk with her- pat her on the back and whisper in her ear, "It will be OK. I will outlast you. I know what it's like not to have a crying baby. I know what it's like not to have a crying baby. I know what it's like not to have a crying baby."

It was in those moments that I realized that anyone who said they would never shake a baby, never had one.

I told them this story.

I looked her mother in the eye. Perhaps the next time- your daughter will walk a floor like I did and she will tell her baby, "I know what it's like." And it will make a difference.

I don't think that I would have shaken my daughter had Andrew been here (truthfully my daughter would not probably be here had Andrew been here). But I do know that it was Andrew's life and death that got me through those painful nights- who gave me patience- who helped me realize...

I am thankful for my laundry, because I have clothes to clean.

I am thankful for my aching back, because I have a garden to tend.

I am thankful for my busy schedule, because I have children filling it up.

I am thankful for tears, because I had someone to love.

I am thankful for a boy who left, because he left me this~

You can look at others and think that their grass is greener.

But I've looked around- I've seen their side- and I know- though there are loads of weeds- and patches of dirt around me, I wouldn't change a thing!

The grass is greener right where I stand.

I don't know if I would have seen this side, had it not been for that moment- that brief moment when I held him in my arms- held him close to my heart and said goodbye-

For now.

(Thank you Geoff for reminding me of my "quote" on facebook- this is the story that reminds me that THIS side- the one that I am on, will forever and always be as green as I make it- and it is beautiful!)

The Juggler

I am usually a glass half full girl-

I see the rose not the thorns.

The rainbow not the storm.

My grass is always greener.

And yet life has been heavy on me and that which weighs on me most is my dear Nan. My Grandma Jonasen (1/2 of the "Jonasens" my twinless twin is named after).

She had a heart attack.

And then surgery.

And then another heart attack.

And surgeries are no longer safe to do.

Her dementia will get worse they tell us.

And though I see my spunky, youthful, 7-years-to-a-century old Nan hooked up in her hospital bed- (surely a reason to see the glass half full)- something is wrong... with me.

The balls that I am juggling are flying above my head and I wonder which will drop first.

I think that life is like this.

It goes in waves of ups and downs and even the most optimistic of all can have days where they are angry, terrified, drowning in the tide.

And life is like this. Feelings are like this. They aren't right or wrong, they simply are.

If I can hold the balls up, tomorrow I will be going to our local support group (the one where I found myself again)- hoping to help others. But it can be so hard to give when you feel you have nothing in you.

So please.

Don't tell them:

At least they have another at home.

At least they know they can be pregnant.

At least it was just a miscarriage.

At least it happened before you really "knew" them.

It will get better in time.

It is still so early.

It is still so fresh.

It happened for a reason.

While some of these (may) be true, it is not what they need and your well-intentioned words may fall on ears that are closed- on ears that are having a half empty day- on hands that are grasping for balls as they slip away from them one by one...

Sometimes it is enough to just tell them you're thinking of them.

Tell them you remember them.

Tell them you're praying for them.

And then just be.

And listen.

For when the balls stop bouncing, and they gather them all again,

they just may have something to say,

And it may be their words that help them find themselves-

And see what they DO have.

Just be.

I feel his arms wrap around my neck.

I close my eyes.

I remember.

Remembered.

It is a day so many of us have dreamed of- pictured ourselves being showered with gifts of dandelion bouquets and cards with painted hand prints- Mother's Day-

And yet for so many of us this day has not been what we thought- As we come up on yet another Mother's Day, I want you to pause and remember-

Remember the woman who lost her mother and though she may be surrounded by children, she is missing her mentor, her friend, her mom.

Remember the woman who lost her child and though she may be surrounded by children, she is missing the child who would have been- her daughter, her son.

Remember the woman who lost her dreams and though she never was pregnant she dreamed, and wished and prayed only to have her life take a different path.

They will be around you this mother's day- and you may not even know it-

Will you remember them?

I think back to that first mother's day. The one I had dreamed of. I had thought I would have had a flower pinned to my blouse as I sang praises to the God who blessed me so with two babies in my arms. How different that day was for me. I sat- a flower pinned to my blouse- singing praises to the God who blessed me so with one baby in my arms. I knew that this was not the day I had expected- far from it-, and yet I tried to play the part and I could look at my son and be thankful that he was- for I still remembered those moments they told me he was not.

But it wasn't long before my tears began to fall. I could see him out of the corner of my eye as his shoulders began to shake and he blotted his eyes with his handkerchief- My Grandpa- My Grandpa Jonasen- My living son's namesake. He looked over at me, with my son in my arms and he burst into tears. For he- more than most in that church- knew what I was going through.

His wife had done this- gone through 28 mother's days without her son- killed two months before I was born. What had that been like for my Nana? Sure I was a welcomed distraction that first mother's day for her (much like my Jonasen was for me) but what was that first mother's day like without her son. He had died in October. Had people remembered her in May?

This Sunday there will be a woman having that first Mother's Day or maybe she's had many- a Mother's Day far different than she had expected- and she may be watched- as other's wonder what to do... what to say... or she may be forgotten- as other's wish her well not knowing what lies behind her smile- the wonder- the dreams of what Mother's Day COULD have been.

I hope you remember.

Wishing you a peaceful Mother's Day-

And that you will be remembered-

For your strength

For your grace

For your love

Remembered.

Choices

Today is the International Babylost Mother's Day and I knew I would probably write something... I never know quite how my posts here will be received but this one is one that I have thought about for some time- and I have felt little nudges here and there to write about it- so I prayed about it and I am hoping that in some way you will open your heart to the story that I am going to share. Sit with it. You may not agree with my words but please read them.

When I was pregnant with my last child, the doctors and nurses would ask questions for filling out my chart. I would explain that I had been pregnant 5 times, had two losses and that the baby I was carrying would be (God-willing) my fourth living child (he was). These numbers could get confusing, so I would go into greater detail about Andrew being stillborn at 39 weeks, and losing E in my first trimester and having a D & C. On one occasion, the doctor was trying to get it straight and said to me, "So you had a twin pregnancy with one stillborn which equaled one living child, then two more living children, one abortion and then this pregnancy."

"Um what?? Abortion??"

I didn't realize that that was indeed the procedure that I had. It didn't matter that my baby was technically gone on my medical chart is says: Pregnancies: 5. Abortions: 1.

Lately I have seen and heard a lot of messages about abortion and pro-life. One of my favorite quotes (By Dr. Seuss) is "A person's a person no matter how small." I have never referred to my children as embryos or fetuses. If you have been reading for a while you know how I have a strong relationship with God, I am a Christian and yet sometimes the actions of other Christians make me sigh and make me want to run and hide.

I have seen bumper stickers that say when the heart starts beating, I have heard of the horrific things that happen during an abortion. I wonder what purpose those things serve. I wonder if they have changed the minds of someone with a healthy pregnancy facing such choices- and still it all makes me cringe when I see it- and it's usually because of her.

There are many people in this world who have changed me- sometimes it is just a story that sticks with me- one that I can't shake- and every time I hear someone say the word abortion I do not think of that doctor who wrote it on my chart- I think of her.

She had a stillborn just like me. It was her first pregnancy after years of infertility. He died while she was in labor and she knew it but she labored still- he was a large baby- nearly 10 pounds- and she labored still. She labored for many hours and at last held her son. A son she had dreamed about. She held his lifeless body on his birthday, Christmas Day and said goodbye. She and her husband went home alone.

She was older and wanted so much to be a mother that they tried again and after some time finally got pregnant. This was it! It was finally her turn! And then she went to that 20 week ultrasound- the one where 'normal' parents go to see cute pictures of their babies- learn the gender. She went to that 20 week ultrasound where people like us hold our breath wondering what horrible news could possibly await us.

For most of us- bad news does not happen twice and I do want to stress that so many of my friends who have had a loss have gone on to have healthy full-term babies (myself included 3x over)- but that was not to be her story. She learned at that 20 week ultrasound that again she would labor and deliver a dead baby. For the ultrasound showed that something had gone terribly wrong in her child's development. His brain did not develop. It was not there. In short he had no brain.

And after the shock she was faced with a decision- she could continue the pregnancy (as I know some moms have) or she could end it. After as many days as she possibly wait, she chose the latter. She cried when she spoke of it. She cried that she had to make that decision but she said she couldn't do it again. She could not labor again and deliver a dead baby. Not again. Her body could perhaps survive it- but her heart (broken again) could clearly not and as I write this I wonder how she is surviving today...

Looking at her, I felt so much sadness. I couldn't imagine having to make such a choice- and if faced with it and in her shoes I don't know what I would do. She was grieving so much and I could feel the weight in the room and felt helpless to lift it from her shoulders. All I could think was that they were ok. They were whole now- that she would see them again.

Her shoulders slumped as she spoke of her church. The church that had turned their back on her. For she had had an abortion. And though she needed their comfort they could not give it to her. While she hated that she had to make that decision, she stood by it still- for no one knew her pain- I clearly didn't and I was not about to judge her for it. I will not judge her still.

And that is why when I drive behind those bumper stickers and open those emails about life I get a lump in my throat and it is hard to swallow. I haven't talked to her in years but I wonder what she thinks when she sees them- if somehow it brings it all back- though then again it is something that never does leave us... our children.

So please- the next time you forward something on or think about slapping a bumper sticker on your car think about her- and others who have made that choice with a heavy heart- with a heart that wanted a baby more than anything-

The problem is until you've walked in her shoes... you won't know. So please don't judge. Just be. Be supportive. Be kind. Be loving. For that is how you share God. Embrace those who are hurting and listen- for their story just may teach you something. Perhaps we as Christians should not judge but offer support and love and offer another way- For even that word "Abortion"- that was something that brought her so much pain- from the loss of a baby who was already gone, to the loss of a church community that was so supportive during her first loss and to the loss possibly of faith...

This world used to be so black and white for me... and as each year passes it becomes a little more gray. I try to make sense of it and sometimes the pieces just don't fit together- at least not as neatly as they did in my youth- before I knew. Before I knew her.

Thinking of you who made that choice with a heavy heart- and those who went and delivered still. There is no easy choice- but you are all mother's and I remember you on this- your own Mother's Day. Thank you for sharing your stories with me- with others- for they change us- make us pause- change us hopefully for the better.

Saved.

2003 was the hardest year of my life but it was also the year that I fell in love... but not with who you think.

I knew God and thought of myself as a 'good girl'. I was thoughtful and kind, prayed often and lived my life in a way that I thought would be pleasing to Him. I was 'faithful' in every sense of the word.

And then I met Andrew.

Andrew changed things. Oddly enough I never doubted God's existence. I couldn't. I have said before that the moment that Andrew's beautiful body was pulled from mine I knew God. Felt His peace and His presence in a way I had never experienced. I knew He was there and in that moment I felt... well... blessed.

But that serene moment ended probably around the time my medicine did- and I realized the magnitude of what had just happened. If you have a child, I want you to remember that moment where you first looked into your child's eyes and fell in love... now imagine looking into eyes that would not open. And handing back that child you'd waited nine long months to meet. It is an indescribable pain. I no longer felt blessed, I felt betrayed.

To say that I was angry with God would have been an understatement. I spoke to Him in ways I am ashamed to admit and when "Christians" would offer me some sort of "God loves you" message I would nod and then go home and roll my eyes at them- knowing that He saw my every mood. You see, I knew that He had the power to save my little boy... and He didn't. I believed in Him and that is what made me angry!

But I never doubted His existence. I went from thanking him for Joe to cursing him for Andrew and walking around in a fog where light could not reach- and I wasn't going to let it. Don't tell me about God! I talk to Him every day! I don't need your 'feel good' message right now! I know the 'real' God!

But here is the thing... somewhere during that time- of me rolling my eyes- wondering how God could make such a mistake... something happened. My tone started to mellow. My shoulders started to slump and I got tired. I was tired of blaming Him. And that day when I was on the floor with Andrew's ashes in my hand. I was tired. Tired of being angry and all that was left was a sadness. I had no strength left in me. I was tired.

No one knew what it was like to lose your son...

But wait...

He did.

His son was better than me. He was thoughtful and kind and lived His life in a way that was pleasing to His Father. He was faithful in every sense of the word. His Father must have looked into His son's eyes and fell in love. And He could have saved Him... but He didn't. He let Him suffer and die. Suffer. Why? For me. For this moment. So I could be picked up off the floor and live again. If I chose to.

He knew what it was like to lose your son and for the second time that year I felt him come over me and I felt His pain and mine. I felt Him hurt, for me. I felt His sorrow and His pain. And I was so sorry.

He was the only one who truly knew what I felt when I lost my son. He knew those emotions for which there are no words. He was the only one who knew my every thought- my every moment. He saw me on the floor. Screaming into my pillow. Hiding in the fog. He saw it all... and yet He never left me. And it was in that moment that I truly fell in love. For more than anyone in this world He knew me. He knew my sin-filled heart and He loved me still. He knew my anger and despair. And he stayed.

Yes. He could have saved Him... but what happened was, He saved me.

For love for God is more than going to church and singing some songs. It is more than reading your bible and praying. Loving God is surrender. It is giving yourself to Him- good, bad, ugly and beautiful- and the best part is... He takes you as you are- and if you're not ready... He'll wait.

He waited for me.

And I can't wait to look into His eyes and thank Him for that. I close my eyes and I can almost see it as He takes my hands and leads me to the other eyes I have so longed to see. The ones that brought me to Him.

Blessed?

Indeed.

Saved?

Forever.

Christ is Risen.

He is Risen Indeed.

Happy Easter- May His love break through the fog!

And he was there...

For those of you who are new to my blog- new to my story- I have been traveling down this road for some time. Andrew was my first born (over 7 1/2 years ago) and since then my family has had many blessings and of course, heartache.

Recently we packed up our family and took a vacation to the mountains. It was a hectic time getting everyone ready~ packed. I told my children they could only pack books and/or toys that could fit in their backpack and we were off.

There is something about going on vacation that makes me think of them. The people in my life know my story- know my family- but out there... people see us- a family with four children close in age and they have no idea what our story is- who is missing.

Over the years I feel like I have found a good place. One where there is more blessings than sorrow- even though some days I need to search- more blessings than sorrow- especially when it comes to the two lives I long to meet again one day... but even in that place, I have moments.

On our drive down, I was thinking of Andrew- nothing specific- his name just has a way of fluttering in and out of my thoughts often throughout the day. I was thinking of him when my middle son pulled a book out of his pack and asked me to read it to him. I looked at the cover and it said, "We Were Gonna Have a Baby, But We Had an Angel Instead."

And he was there.

Our last stop before our final destination was my friend's home. Our lives crossed when I lost my Andrew, and not long after- she lost her Brooke. Seeing her again was so sweet.

And he was there.

Toward the end of the night our boys were performing a show for us in the basement full of dancing and fun. My son had two shirts on and was hot so took one off. I glanced at his shirt, "My twin is an angel."

And he was there.

Sometimes I feel like life is so busy that I don't take a moment to really sit and remember and thank God for what I do have- a son (and daughter) in heaven who one day I will meet again. Too busy- but then something will happen and I'll feel it.

He is there. And he reminds me. Not with sorrow but with pause. Slow down. Look at the blessings around you. Slow down or you could miss them. Especially when your world starts to turn again. The good news is that they're always there- when you're ready.

Blessings.

And reminders.

That he was there.