October 15th Raleigh

Another year of October 15th Raleigh has come and gone and I'm still amazed at just how beautiful the ceremony this year really was. I have to admit that I was nervous. I was pretty overwhelmed preparing for both October 15th and Uganda and was praying that God would do the rest. And it's no surprise that He did. The presence of God was so strong that evening that people didn't want to leave. It was truly an awesome thing to witness and to be a part of.

From the music to the volunteers, everything was seamless.

I have to say that I was most touched by all of the brave women (and man!) who got up in front of everyone and shared the most intimate details of the the darkest days in their lives. And there were a lot of you! Once again, I have been blessed by all of these parents much more than I could possibly offer to them. I simply gave them a safe place to grieve. I simply said yes.

A huge thanks to Jennifer Gregory who wrote a beautiful article in the North Raleigh News about October 15th Raleigh.

Bonded in grief, local parents find solace - News - NorthRaleighNews.com

A letter to my son

Dear Robert~
I can't believe how quickly two years goes by. I still miss you every day, but momma, daddy and big brother Mason are moving on; that's the way it's supposed to be. We're not supposed to live in grief. We know that you are safe and in His loving arms and I have faith in the promise that I will hold you again.
We spent August 21st the best way we knew how - as a family. The three of us went to a baseball game, ate hotdogs and peanuts, saw Scooby-doo (Mason's favorite) and watched fireworks. It was a good night. Even still, I couldn't help but to think what it would have been like to have you there with us.

Mason asks constantly when he will have a little brother or sister to play with and to love. He knows who you are, but still doesn't quite understand it all. He wants you here. Daddy and I remind him that every family is different and special and that he must wait on and trust God for his brother or sister; I'm still waiting and trusting, too. 
I'm getting ready for another special ceremony that helps other mommy's and daddy's in our area honor their babies. It's called October 15th Raleigh. It's my special way of honoring your short life and the countless other little lives. It's my way to serve and love, even in the midst of still missing you. 
I know that you can't see me or hear me or even read this, but it helps me still to write this now. You are missed. You are valuable. You are precious to me. You are loved.
Love,
Momma

I admit it

I've been completely avoiding my own blog. I mean, it's been four months since I've even written a post. I think I'm still really good at convincing myself that if I keep myself busy enough, I won't think about missing Robert. I miss my son.

Next month marks two years since Robert's death. I still can't believe that two years have passed. I would have a toddler. Robert would be running around, getting into everything. He would be following his big brother like a puppy. He would be giving big, sloppy, open mouth kisses.

My heart still aches from all that I'll never have with my son.

For the first time in over six months, I looked at the few photos that I have of Robert after I delivered him. He was so tiny and so perfect. I still can't help but to ask God, "Why?" His little urn is carefully tucked in my dresser drawer.

I've begun planning again for October 15th Raleigh, but I also know that I want to do something special in Robert's memory this year. I just don't know what?

It's easier this year than last, but it's still hard. There will always be a part of me that's missing.

A case of mistaken identity?

It may sound strange, but Robert's name was not always Robert. Bob and I had chosen a different name entirely for our second son. Or I should say, Bob found the name and we both fell in love with it (much like what happened with Mason's name). If you have not gone through the loss of a baby, you may not understand. But I actually know several people who have made the same choice that we did, and for many of the same reasons. It does not mean that we did not think through his name or the reason for it's choosing. We just felt that God was leading us in a different direction.

Robert was supposed to be named Asher. I love that name and still do. Asher literally means "happy."

For several reasons, we changed his name from Asher to Robert. First, the death of our son was so hard and painful that we didn't feel that giving him a name that meant happy was appropriate. Second, we held on to the hope and promise that God would bless us with another son and wanted to save the name Asher for our next son. Heck, at this point, I love the name so much that I'd use it for a girl! And last, it was Bob who decided to change his name at the last minute. Bob's formal name is Robert. I think that it was Bob's way of staying connected to a son we would never know here on earth.

I have hope that I will have another child. I still miss my Robert every day, but I can't wait to meet my Asher.

No. I haven't forgotten.

I know that it's been a while since I've posted on Robert's blog. I do confess that I've been so wrapped up in dealing with this mess of secondary infertility that it's been just enough to keep my mind off of missing Robert.


This month, Robert would have been one. Yes, I would have had a one year old and a 4 1/2 year old. It's so strange to think of what my life would look like if Robert were here. I think back to Mason's first birthday. I look at the sweet photos of the big "1" balloon. The messy cake photos. The smiles. The celebration. Anyone who knows me knows that I love a good party. I love to decorate and plan and make things special for that very special person. Even more, it's the whole idea of having a day to celebrate the life of someone you love. I hate that Robert's life was cut short.


I still miss my son everyday.

Surrender

When we think of the word surrender, it usually conjures ideas of defeat or giving up. "Surrender! Come out with your hands up!"It may imply that we're no longer going to try or simply can't do it. Webster defines one definition of surrender as: to give oneself up into the power of another.


As a Christian, I constantly battle with the idea of surrender. I want God to have everything, except this or that, thinking I can do it better. And when I'm at the end of my rope, I finally (often reluctantly or begrudgingly) surrender what's left of the mess I've made to God. And all along, He is ready with arms open wide, prepared and patiently waiting to fully take this burden from me. So why do I wait so long? Why don't I just give Him the burdens that He's prepared to carry, that He wants to carry? 


Surrender is so difficult because somewhere in my arrogance and controlling nature, I too often still cling to the belief that it's mine. It's my life. It's my family. It's my problem. It's my pain. When in reality, it's all God's. He's the maker and giver of everything; the joy and the pain. God doesn't exist for me - I exist for Him. The sooner I get this and truly surrender, the closer I'll be to the peace that God longs for me to have.

Constant Reminders

As usual, we were 5 minutes late for church today. I hurriedly slipped into my seat, grabbing my bible and notebook to begin to take notes for today's sermon. When I slowed down to begin to listen to Paul, I couldn't help but notice an infant car seat in the row in front of me. A moment later, the mom pulled a beautiful, very new baby girl from the seat. She placed her over her shoulder and this little ones eyes met mine. The pain of what I've lost came flooding back. Tears began to spill and I knew that there was no way I'd make it through service with this baby staring back at me. Bob and I moved for the remainder of service.


Robert has been gone for over a year and I still get caught in these moments. I'm not sure when they'll hit, usually sneaking up on me when I least expect it. I don't know why it hit me so hard this morning. Perhaps I'm emotionally strained with October 15th Raleigh coming up? Maybe it was the look I saw on Bob's face as he sat staring at this baby girl; part sadness, part longing. 


It makes me wonder how I'll feel ten years from now or even longer. I've talked to so many women who've experienced a loss years ago, but still live with the pain of losing a baby. How they may look up when they hear a name being called; their child's name. They wonder how their life would have been different had their baby been here with them still. I believe that God made mother's different. There is an instant bond that begins to take place when a women knows that she is pregnant. And an inimitable pain when that baby is gone. A mother's heart does not forget.