Bits and Pieces of Normalcy

I can feel it.

Every day a little more.

It will never be the *SAME* because there is someone *MISSING*, but I know the Lord will bring a *NEW NORMAL*

I made the bed because I wanted it to look nice. I vacumned the floor because I wanted to. These are little pieces of normalcy that are a welcome sight to me.

Even my heartache has bits of joy intermixed. Packing up the milk today to send to the adopted baby was oh so hard. I cried quietly as I put it all into bags and sent it on its way, but there was joy in knowing another child would benefit from what was meant for my little one.

I continue to read my Psalms every night and every morning. I continue to put one foot in front of the other. I continue to trust in the Lord. And the Lord blesses over and over again.

February 26th

Getting out of bed has been very difficult. I know the Lord wants me to get up and be a mother to my other 4 children, so after some brainstorming w/ some friends, one of them called this morning to get me up out of bed and give me a few simple tasks to do. Even though it hurt to be awake, it felt good to do something as simple as make coffee and put the cereal on the table for the children.

I folded Emmy's clothes today. The day she died, in a frenzy, I had pulled all of her clothes out of the closet and sat on the floor of her room holding them and crying. I later put those clothes in her crib and left them there. I packed away the ones she never wore and neatly folded the ones she had and put them in the drawers of her dresser. There were stains on some of them that were from her. I am not ready for them to be in storage, but I am ready for them to be somewhere other than scattered across the crib.

It is so hard to have her things out and about now. But my husband is not ready for them to be put away and I suppose I might be upset too if I do put them away. I just feel a punch in the gut every time I walk by them.

I am torn between KNOWING and FEELING. I KNOW this was the Lord's will, that it was her appointed time, that He will sustain me, that I will get through this, but I FEEL like I don't understand why or how or when. I feel like there is this gaping hole and nothing will fill it ever...and that is partially true. It was said at the funeral, our arrow was shot into Heaven and any other children the Lord may bless us with will never replace that arrow, the place where the arrow had been will always be empty.

But, in time the wound will heal over. The scar will remain, but it won't be a festering sore anymore. Right now I have to walk through it all and feel everything as it hits me. Some things I can save to feel for later, but much of it just has to be felt at the time. Things like seeing the bottom of the laundry basket marked with the girls' names and the cubby where the basket goes marked the same. Things like putting away nursing clothes because I have no need for them now. Seeing things or thinking about things that happened "before Emmy died" and then realizing all the things that have happened since without her.

The Lord has carried me for over 2 weeks now. My sister-in-law sent me this verse a few days ago and I have said it over and over to myself and even set it to music to sing to myself and my children throughout the day:

Psalm 37:23-24
"The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, and He delights in his way. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down; for the Lord upholds him with His hand."

No matter how low I am, I am still in His hand.

After the Fog, I Feel

After The Fog, I Feel

The fog lifts and now I feel

Things beyond my control, my reach, my comprehension,

Emotions no longer supressed,

Thoughts no longer hidden,

Life no longer muffled.

After the fog, I feel.

I hear a baby cry, wishing it was you.

If only I could still hear you, touch you, hold you.

Your crib sits empty,

Empty like my heart, empty like my arms.

A barren reminder that

After the fog, I feel.

I know, despite my grief,

the fog must lift and I must feel

love again, joy again, here again.

One more moment to hold you would never be enough,

So from afar I love you,

Until after the fog, I feel you.

My grace is sufficient

I sat down to write this morning, but could not. All I could do was cry. Today was the first day where I had to have some semblence of a routine. Not a full routine, but something that resembled some sort of "normal" for my children's sake. My husband convinced me to leave the bedroom and try to start my day, but shortly after breakfast, I was back asleep on the couch. When I did wake up, I sat and cried. Everywhere I turned were memories of what would never be. An empty swing where she used to sit while I fixed meals...an empty bassinet beside my bed where she slept...soap and lotion and diaper cream bought especially for her.

This was also my husband's first day back at work. I no longer had him to lean on when I couldn't stand anymore. He came home for lunch and ended up having to finish re-heating it for me as I was completely lost and kept staring over at the swing. I wondered how I would get through the day. I cried out to God to help me.

And He did.

A friend called to tell me she was on her way over. I got dressed.

I received several gifts/cards from the MOMYS. I cried, but felt comforted.

My friend came and we drank coffee and talked and talked. I smiled.

A friend called. I talked some more, and cried some too.

I received an email. I cried tears of joy, and felt excitement for the first time since my child died.

This mass email from a friend of a friend, contained a request for br**stmilk from whoever could help out. I couldn't believe it! I had not been able to throw out all the milk I had pumped while our daughter was in the hospital. I kept thinking I should, but I kept avoiding it. Even today, I had looked in the freezer and thought, "WHY am I keeping this?" I reached for one of the containers to start throwing all of it away, but was stopped by one of the children needing something, so I gently closed the door and purposefully chose to put it off a little longer. This email brought joy to my heart again! I could help another baby. I could bless another family. I could give life-giving milk to another child!

So, while today started w/ tears of sorrow, God kept lifting me up until I was on solid ground. He brought me to a place where I could cry tears of joy.

Today ~ Moving Forward

Today is not an easy day. After nearly a week of people crowded in my house and around me, I feel numb. I am hiding here. I am so lonely for Emmy, but I want to be alone w/ my memories of her. I went and hid in my mother-in-law's office last night, so I could have a moment alone w/ my thoughts and a pen and paper. Here is what I wrote:

*******************************

I would not move forward if it meant leaving Emmy behind. I don't know how anyone can pretend a child never existed, take down their pictures, remove their things.

I have 5 children. I will always have 5 children, until the Lord blesses us again--then, I will have 6. It grieves me, though, to think how others will look at our family and not see Emmy. They won't know someone is missing. But, she is there...a beautiful, precious piece of her lives on in each member of my family.

I will not pretend I have 4 children. I will not pretend my Emmy-girl never existed. Anyone who asks about our family will come to know her name, her story, her testimony.

No, I do not leave her behind and "move on", I move forward, with all 5 children--one running a bit ahead...just out of sight.

Our precious baby girl has gone to be with the Lord

I don't even know really where to begin, but writing has always been my outlet, and I am having a moment of clarity where my fingers seem to be able to type w/o stumbling. I just feel the need to talk...say what I am feeling...honor my baby girl.

We went to a dinner Saturday night w/ our baby girl. She was the belle of the ball. Everyone talked to her and fussed over her and she just sat there so happy and content. I held her for most of the night and toward the end, Daddy held her.

We went to a friend's house for the night. She and I scrapbooked and drank Dr. Pepper, while her dh and mine talked politics in the living room. Our little one went to sleep on our bed. She awoke around 1 w/ a fever. I gave her Tylenol and nursed her back to sleep. Around 5am, I was awakened again by her cries...she was feverish again and breathing rapidly as children do with fevers. I gave her more Tylenol, changed her diaper, and nursed her on the couch. My oldest son came out to go to the bathroom and stopped by the couch. I told him baby was sick and to pray for her. He said that must have been why God got him up.

I laid her back down on a palate on the floor at about 6am. When we awoke at 8am, I looked down at her...something wasn't right. Her eyes looked funny and her breathing seemed very labored. I grabbed her up and laid her on the bed. I called for my husband to come look at her. I wanted to take her to the hospital her surgeries had been at, but that was nearly 2 hrs away...neither one of us felt she could make it that far. We raced to the hospital, leaving the other children in my friend's care.

At the hospital, I felt desperation...I knew she was not going to be ok, but I kept hoping against all odds that somehow she would pull through. Her poor body was mottled, her eyes were not tracking, her O2 was 76, her blood pressure was nearly non-existant. I had watched my father die 1 year and 1 week earlier...I knew. They moved her to another room and put her in a warmer, they stuck a tube down her throat, they stuck a tube down her nose. She was in septic shock. They started chest compressions, and while my dh kept begging them to continue, I just wanted them to quit and let me hold her. We fell on the floor and prayed and prayed and cried out. I finally asked them to give her to me...I begged them to let me hold her. The chaplain was so good to make them completely unplug her so I could sit in a chair and rock my baby. I held her tight, kissed her feet, her cheeks, stroked her hair. I asked the Lord to give her back, but I knew that was not fair of me to ask.

You see, she's never been mine. My husband and I never talked about it, but always lingering in the back of our minds...long b/f she was sick...were the thoughts of her not staying w/ us. I shoved them out of my head, but there were still little things...her stocking has an angel on it, she seemed so unbelievably perfect...never fussed. My husband said he felt from the beginning that she would not be w/ us long...but that is never something you talk about. I think I told one person just recently that I felt as though the Lord wanted her home and we just kept prolonging the inevitable.

The Lord brought her back to where all of this started...my friend's house. You see, that is where she got sick the first time...I do not know why He chose there, but I do know He ordained that moment from the beginning of her life. Maybe b/c I needed my friend to be there, maybe because I needed to know there was absolutely nothing I could do. I do not know if I will ever be able to go back there...and that pains me...she and I have had many good memories there...but even walking into her house Saturday gave me de ja vu of when our baby girl first got sick...little did I know what would transpire there would be more than de ja vu. My baby died in a hospital called Mercy.

An amazing thing is that God put a family in our path several months ago who lost a child 3 years ago at the age of 6 1/2, as well as 2 babies (ages 5 days and 13 days). A few weeks ago, she asked me to write an article for her new website (she is in the midst of having a book published entitled "In Faithfullness, He Aflicted Me"--the website is meant to help grieving parents) on all we had gone through w/ our daughter...never did I imagine we would be sharing the same perspective. We had spent Friday night fellowshipping at their house. They were the first people we called...they drove 2 hrs to get to us.

They have been walking w/ us through all of this. The husband will be presiding over the funeral...I feel as though he is the only person who can do it. We are slowly planning her funeral...I hate this. I do not know how I am going to let them close that lid. She will be wearing an outfit her Aunt bought her. I cannot imagine any other child wearing it. She will be buried w/ the puppy dog that stayed by her bedside all through the surgeries. We will have a slide show of her life. And we will be releasing balloons w/ her name on them.

I also have a physical hurt that is a painful reminder that I have full br**sts and empty arms. I hurt so bad, I cannot even hold my other children w/o wincing in pain. I have such strange and stupid thoughts...too many to put them all here. I want to remember every second of her final moments, yet I cannot bear that picture. I want the funeral to be perfect...no regrets. I ache to hold her...to change one more diaper...to nurse her one more time. I think I can hear her...I tell myself to be quiet and not turn on the light when I go in my bedroom b/c baby is sleeping. But she's not.

I wanted to keep her, but she was not mine. She was never mine. She has always been the Lord's, just as they all are. I don't own any of them...they are all on loan. But that does not stop the hurt. And even knowing what I know now, I would do it all over again...I would hold her and love her for those same 7 months over and over and over again.

Eating to Live

You've probably heard the saying, "Eat to live, instead of live to eat." Well, that has always been one of those anecdotes I thought sounded cute and catchy, but one that I definitely do not live by. However, today, something we heard in church caught my attention, and I believe my world is about to change in a big way.

The Lord has brought people into my life throughout the years who have taught me new and healthier ways of eating. Starting about 4 years ago, my husband and I researched a few different things we were hearing from some friends of ours, and took the plunge into sea salt and fructose. A little while later, we abandoned the fructose for honey and raw sugar, and added in whole wheat. In the past 4 years, we have slowly made subtle, healthier changes to what we eat, but still many of the things we eat make us unhealthy.

For instance, I have a serious soda addiction. A friend of mine with the same addiction says she feels like an alcoholic when it comes to soda. I do not disagree. For her, it is a means of putting pep in her step and getting through her day. For me, it is a means of disengaging from my day and unwinding. And for both of us, the thought of doing away with soda seems daunting. The STUDY on caffeine and miscarriages was enough to cause me to buy caffeine-free soda, but I know deep down that soda isn't good for me no matter what form it takes. I was reading through Mrs. Catherine's blog, when I came across her weight loss tips...one of which being, "Eliminate colas-even the diet ones. They are full in sugar and are empty of any nutrition. Your body can not use any of it." It was yet another epiphany...one of those "duh" moments if you will. I knew that, but I needed someone else saying it, for me to really consider leaving soda behind.

My husband...Mr. Willpower himself, does not have this soda issue. He quit drinking the stuff 17 years ago, and hasn't had one little sip since. His food issues are more a matter of sweets, eating out, and quantity. I cook very few convenience foods, but I bake a lot. I make sweets a lot. Therefore, we all end up eating...you guessed it...A LOT. My husband has many business trips and lunch meetings that require him to order off a menu full of super-sized portions and not-so-good-for-you choices. All this, along with a job that has him sitting in an office or in a car, has brought him to a place where he wants to live healthier, eat healthier, and be healthier.

Once again, God has placed people in our life who are teaching us about healthier eating, though I'm not sure they even knew we were listening. There is a family at church who's joy is utterly contagious. They have been so good to us throughout our baby's illness because they have been there; they know the agony of watching a child endure multiple surgeries. During our hospital stay, they brought us healthy snacks. These were not cardboard rice cakes and other tasteless delicacies, these were unbelievably yummy organic, healthy foods. I found myself asking questions on what types of foods would help our daughter recover. I listened for every tidbit of information I could get. I soon realized that our semi-healthy eating was really not as healthy as we liked to tell ourselves it is. We needed to do more...we needed to be more proactive. None of this did our friends ever say to us outright, or even imply...it is something I concluded myself as I listened and learned.

So, onward and forward...time to make some new changes...more drastic ones this time. Ones that help us to leave those "living to eat" days behind. Ones that will hopefully teach us to EAT TO LIVE.

STAYING at HOME ~ Dec 12, 2005

(**Blog notes** Yet another "blast from the past!" This entry comes from the final weeks of my pregnancy w/ our 4th child. Looking back, I see now where God was preparing me to stay at home more. I laugh at this post, because I now truly desire to be home much more than to be out, and I cannot believe I joined that many homeschool groups!)

Sleep alludes me. I am 34 weeks pregnant today and have begun that uncomfortable stage...the stage that makes you more than happy to endure back-breaking labor if only for the utter relief of no longer being pregnant!

I do not go out with all the children during the day because I just CAN'T. I know, Zig Ziglar would be terribly disappointed in me, but thankfully, I'm not out to impress anyone. However, my homebound status has forced me to reflect on a simple, yet profound piece of wisdom I received earlier this year at a homeschool conference...
To be a stay at home mom, you have to be home and in order to be a homeschooler, you have to be home.

Well, I like being home, but I also like being out.

When we moved here a year ago, I joined every homeschool group within a 40 mile radius (a total of 5!) Much of it was done in desperation to find friends for myself and my children. I had moved out of my comfort zone--a tiny town very near where I had grown up--and into a place where I had no family and nothing to do. I didn't want to be isolated, so I became pro-active and searched out other like-minded people. I kept up the pace very well until I became pregnant, but even then, I only dropped a couple of the groups. Well, a few weeks ago, when my superwoman facade began to crumble, I quit attending functions hosted by 2 more. I've pretty much pared it down to one group that meets about 2 times a month--once for a playdate and once for a history-based co-op. It's actually a bit of a relief.

All the homeschool groups in the area offered something a little different that I was sure my children needed to be a part of, but yet I found myself spending more time racing to and fro than being at home--the real thing my children needed to be a part of.

You see, home, if run correctly will fill all of my children's needs. I do not profess in any way, shape, or form to run a truly "correct" household, but you can't really work on your homekeeping unless you are at home. You see, everything my children truly need is right here, but in my human fraility, I go searching for something that continues to allude me (kind of like my sleep!) I am searching for just the right "program" or "system" or "place" that will make up for my ineptness, when the truth of the matter is there is only ONE who can truly fill in the gaps.

So, here I sit in the quiet of my own home (quiet because it is the middle of the night!) I may have initially been forced to stay at home, but I do believe I will remain at home.