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.