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.

Capturing what I've lost

We have a DVD of photos from a session we had taken at Juno Beach, FL when Mason was nine months old. Mason was digging through our DVD's a few nights ago and insisted that we watch it as a family. As I sat watching the beautiful photos flash across the screen, I instantly realized that Robert would be the same age as Mason when those photos were taken. 


I wondered how Robert may have looked by now. Would he have Mason and Bob's same chocolate brown eyes, or would he have his momma's blue eyes? Would he be getting ready to walk? Would I have still been nursing Robert? Would he be completely in love with his older brother, Mason? 


So as I sat holding my beautiful, healthy four year old son in my arms, I found myself overcome by the grief of not having Robert here with us. Robert has been gone for over 13 months and there still isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about him. I miss my son.

October 15th Raleigh

In honor of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, I've organized October 15th Raleigh. I wanted a way to honor Robert's memory and our miscarriage in 2004, as well as to reach out to all the other parents who've experienced a loss through miscarriage, still birth, infant loss or ectopic pregnancy.


This candle light memorial will be held on Thursday, October 15, 2009 at 7pm on the South Lawn of the State Capital, Downtown Raleigh. The evening will consist of a simple ceremony of music, an open mic time, a naming ceremony, as well as candles lit in memory of our little one's. This is a free, community-wide event to anyone in the Triangle area.


My prayer for October 15th Raleigh is that parents will find Hope and healing after a loss.

What a difference a year makes

I still can't believe how quickly a year comes and goes. I can honestly say that my life looks pretty different than it did a year ago. Besides the obvious of going so fast from pregnant and planning a life with a new son to not pregnant and redefining what my life looks like after losing a baby.

There's just no way that you can lose a baby and come out on the other side as the same person, because you're not. Losing Robert has changed me forever. It's changed the way that I look at my life here and eternal life. It's changed my relationships with family and friends; it's drastically changed my relationship with God.

Without hesitation, I will admit that around the time that Robert died, I was probably the furthest that I've been from God in a very long time. We had no home church. I was not reading my bible. I was not praying. I firmly believe that God will allow things to happen in our lives to get our attention and to draw us back to Him. No, God did not take my son from me, but he allowed it to happen.

My new relationship with God is a direct result of losing my son. My desire to become stronger in my faith, to connect with my church, to "grow up" all comes from my realization of why I'm really here.

Another awesome outcome over the last year has been the strength of my marriage. You often hear how a loss can tear a couple apart. Losing Robert has made Bob and I stronger than ever. Through the strengthening of our individual relationships with God, we've seen the overflow into our marriage. Sure, we still have our moments (who doesn't,) but are constantly striving to stay God-centered and to keep each other accountable.

There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about Robert. He would have been just about 9 months old now. There are times when I still cry and feel that physical pain of not having Robert here with me, but the tears are less and time does begin to heal.

So now you have two!

I was shopping at Kohl's a few days ago and ran into a teacher from the school where I did my graduate internship last year. I was working there when I became pregnant and I had not seen her since I finished last June. She immediately and enthusiastically said, "So, now you have two!" Of course I had to break the news that we had lost him. I actually handled it really well (no tears), but it's amazing just how I go about my day and there are still reminders that Robert is not here with me.

While I'm Waiting

I love the lyrics to John Waller's song, "While I'm Waiting". It really sums up so much of what I'm feeling in my life and in my heart right now. Even though the wait can feel like torture at times, it's through the waiting that we can begin to see what God really wants for us; that he begins to unveil his plan for our lives. The very act of waiting and being obedient to God is an act of worship to Him and our confidence in who He is and what He says He can do. Will it be painful at times? Yes. Will we want to give up? Probably. But is He faithful? Absolutely.  

So today, even though I feel crushed, I will go on actively waiting.

"While I'm Waiting"

I'm waiting

I'm waiting on You, Lord

And I am hopeful

I'm waiting on You, Lord

Though it is painful

But patiently, I will wait

I will move ahead, bold and confident

Taking every step in obedience

While I'm waiting

I will serve You

While I'm waiting

I will worship

While I'm waiting

I will not faint

I'll be running the race

Even while I wait

I'm waiting

I'm waiting on You, Lord

And I am peaceful

I'm waiting on You, Lord

Though it's not easy

But faithfully, I will wait

Yes, I will wait

I will serve You while I'm waiting

I will worship while I'm waiting

I will serve You while I'm waiting

I will worship while I'm waiting

I will serve you while I'm waiting

I will worship while I'm waiting on You, Lord

Babies, babies, everywhere babies

Yes, it's a part of life. People are going to have babies. And when you're in your early thirties and at the prime baby making time, everyone around you will be getting pregnant and having babies. That is, everyone but me. I know I sound a little pathetic and that I'm feeling sorry for myself, but that's because I'm feeling sorry for myself. 

In the last week alone, 2 women I know have had their babies. Of course, I'm thrilled for them. It's such an amazing blessing. But I want to get pregnant too. I want to bring my baby home. I want to get over this "hump" of loss and onto the next chapter of getting pregnant again.

I'm a good mom. No, I'm an awesome mom! I love my son more than life itself and I desperately want another child, a sibling for Mason, but it's just not coming so easy.

The saying goes that "Timing is everything". I know that God's timing is not always the same as my timing (probably something to do with the fact that he's the God of the universe and doesn't have the same concept of time that we do). But none the less, I'm trying to be so patient and wait on His time. But all I really want to do is scream from the top of my lungs that I'm sick of waiting! I'm sick of feeling like the only one around me who can't conceive. I'm angry that I have to think about the anniversary of my son's death next month rather than celebrating his life. 

Today I need the strength to just keep going. 

When the joy outweighs the pain

It's taken almost a year, but I know now that I've finally arrived at the place where the joy and blessing of potentially being pregnant again and having another baby outweighs all the pain of losing Robert or the fear of losing another baby.

Of course I'll never forget what it feels like to say goodbye to my son, but I also know the pure joy of welcoming my new child into the world. 

I know what it feels like to to labor for twelve hours. To hold a tiny, lifeless child only to leave with empty arms from the hospital. But I also know the feeling of having a warm, beautiful, healthy baby in my arms. 

I know what it feels like to walk through the valley and to announce to all your friends and family that your son is gone. To prepare for a memorial service. To decide between burial and cremation. To wake and see a tiny urn every morning. But I also know utter elation of calling to tell everyone that a new life is here. To hear the congratulations and the joy in their voices. To know that people are genuinely excited for your family.

I know what it feels like to miss a son every day. To grieve the milestones. To miss planning the first Christmas or birthday. But I know how it feels to enjoy the last four years of everything amazing and special that Mason has experienced.

So when I weigh it all, I'd do it again. The bitter and the sweet. Life brings us valleys so we can appreciate the mountain tops. And there are a lot more valleys or heading up & down the mountain than there times on top. So much so that if we're not careful, we just may miss it. 

When you know you've hit your limit

I know it's been some time since I've written anything on this blog. Overall, life has been good. We're caught up in the whole TTC thing again and it's just enough to keep my mind off of other things; for a while, anyways. 

It was such a blessing to celebrate Mason's 4th birthday on Monday. Celebrating with friends was fun and crazy and Mason was loving it. But it's amazing how even in the middle of a celebration, the loss of Robert can hit me. Three babies and one pregnant woman at our party. Which is fine, but throw in the non-stop baby/pregnancy talk and I felt like I was in a black-hole. I had to keep myself busy or go outside just so I didn't break out in tears. Who knows, maybe someday I'll want to swap pregnancy and delivery stories again, but not now. What so many people quickly forget is that my last delivery didn't turn out so well. I was in labor for 12 hours and delivered and held a baby that I didn't get to bring home. I won't get the milestones of rolling over, crawling, first words. I won't get to celebrate his first birthday or any birthdays. I don't get to wake up and snuggle and nurse my son every morning. Instead, I wake up every morning and see his remains in a tiny urn on my dresser. Yes, I know that's not Robert, but it's the only way I even know it was all real. That's my reality. 

And another thing. Yes, it was nine months ago. But guess what? I'm NOT OVER IT! I'll never be over losing Robert. Yes, it gets a little more manageable over time, but there's not a day that goes by that I don't think about my son. And even when we eventually do get pregnant again, I still won't be over it. One child doesn't replace another child.

Yes, it's a fine line. I don't want people walking on egg shells around me, afraid that what they'll say will upset me. But I want people to be aware that careless words hurt. When you're friends with someone and love them, you need to be aware of the balance. It's a give and take on both sides and at this point, I've reached my limit. Now, do I think that my friends were trying to intentionally hurt me by what they were saying? No. Do I think that it went overboard with all the pregnancy/baby talk? Absolutely! Guess what ladies, we love our kids and families. But we are still women who can talk about things other than allergies, diapers and hiccups ad nauseam. 

A loaded question

When someone knows that you're a mom, the first, most natural question is to ask about your children. How many kids do you have? What are their names and ages? So when I'm in situation where I know I'll be meeting and talking to moms who don't know my history, I find myself scrambling to decide what I will say. If I say I have one child, then I feel like I'm letting Robert down. But if I say I have two, then I'll have to explain the loss, and let's face it, people just don't want to hear about a baby that died. I could say, "I have one living child," but in my experience, that's also a major downer to people. I've seen the conversation abruptly stop with that one, too. 

I hate that I even have to think about things like this.

Comparing hurts and losses

I've noticed recently how many people try to compare losses. I've heard over and over again for the last eight months from friends and other women that their own loss was not as "bad" as mine because they were only in the first trimester and didn't have to go through labor and delivery. On the other hand, I've known people to say that because I was not full-term that it wasn't as bad as "so-and-so's loss". My best advice about comparing losses: Don't do that. Comparing hurts and losses is a waste of time. Just because I lost my son in my second trimester doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt as much or it's not as much of a loss for a friend who lost a baby at 8 weeks pregnant. Walk in someone else's shoes for a day and see if you still want to compare.

I'm so glad that God doesn't compare or prioritize our hurts against anyone else. Can you imagine if he was saying, "Well Katy, I have this women over here who delivered a few weeks later than you, so she's hurting more and needs me more than you do." No way! God knows our hearts and our hurts, and they are all just as important to him. Wouldn't it be great if we could all treat each other with the same kind of love and respect?

Sometimes I feel out of place

My life and overall perspective has changed so much in the last year that sometimes I just don't know where I "fit". I've been in this world of grief and loss for almost eight months and it sets me apart from my prior life and the people in it. And while I've met new, wonderful people who share my same journey of loss, I just don't want to stay in that world forever. On the other hand, there is always a new gap between the people I knew before losing Robert. I can feel it, even though I've accepted it. Especially with those friends who were pregnant at the same time I was, because they've all had their babies by now. 

I can feel a new season beginning. One that doesn't feel so sad, but hopeful. Not that I will ever forget my son, I just know that my life is continuing and it feels right. Even so, I know that I am still allowed to have sad moments or even days and more importantly, that it's okay. 

I was at the zoo with Mason on Thursday. We went with a dear friend of mine and her two kids. At one point, her daughter (almost 5 y/o) was hugging and kissing on her little brother (almost 8 months old) and I found myself feeling sad. I felt sad for the little brother that Mason does not have here. I know how much Mason loves babies and how sweet he is with them. I know what a wonderful big brother he will be.

One of those days

Today, I'm just tired. The whole TTC thing can really start to wear on you and I could seriously see myself slipping back into a depression if I didn't watch myself. I'm also sick with a head cold and pushing myself pretty hard lately. I often find myself trying to be everything to everyone and my physical, mental and spiritual health wear thin. 

Most people think I'm doing so well, which for the most part, I am. But there are still those days when I feel like I'm just barely hanging on. 

Pleasant surprise

I have to admit that I began this blog with somewhat selfish intentions. I wanted to work through this journey of loss in order that I may find healing and peace. Little did I  know that along the way I would touch peoples lives with my story. 

I'm so touched by the many e-mails, pm's and even face-to-face words of affirmation that I've received over the last month about Robert's blog. And while I'm honored and humbled, I also can't take the credit. I simply listened to God and started a blog. My words are His words.

It's hard to allow yourself to be vulnerable, but it's truly amazing how God can bless you and other's around you when you choose to let go and let God take control.