And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:7
Friday, May 21, 2010
Peace
I remember praying that God would make Jackson's birth peaceful - that the whole experience in the hospital would just be as peaceful as possible. I knew He'd been faithful to answer those prayers and this picture is a perfect reminder ...
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
All my thoughts ...
I have so many thoughts and emotions still swirling. I want to try to share some of it, because I know everyone is wondering - some ask and some don't. Some want to know and some don't.
I know that everyone wants to help - and I am appreciative of that, I really am. In all the ways it comes, I am thankful. I am blessed to have a few friends and family that "get it" - and keep asking how I am, knowing that this is a long journey, knowing that I want and need to talk about Jackson & the whole experience, that understand my tears are a good thing, that this process isn't pretty, that I need to hear his name spoken, and that I just need them to listen.
Everyone I love is hurting. I don't know how to help my children or my husband, much less myself. I know that I may need counseling. I get it. I know that I might need help walking through this - and if/when that time comes, I will seek it out. In the meantime what I need are friends and family that aren't afraid of my grief.
I am in awe at the power and intensity of this grief. I've had my share of losses and life events that required grieving, but this is just different. So much heavier. Tomorrow will be one month since I gave birth to my sweet boy and I am amazed at how deeply I still mourn. I could not have imagined this a month ago. I am shocked at what a scatterbrain I've been, how little focus and energy I have. Its exhausting. Physically, mentally, spiritually and obviously, emotionally.
I am usually a pretty open book. I don't typically hold things in. And because I love to write (and talk), I have plenty of words - its just hard to know what to share and with who (whom?). I have literally felt like I was losing my mind. Like I was going crazy. So, I kept things inside.
Until last weekend. I read the book, I Will Carry You by Angie Smith. She made me feel normal again! I used to read her blog and pray for her sweet family as they grieved the loss of their daughter just hours after her birth. I cried through the whole book - partly because I felt like she was telling MY story and partly because I so desired what she had - TIME. She knew months before her baby passed away that it would happen. Before I lost Jackson, I would have seen that as a horrible, awful turn of events. But from where I sit now, I see it as a beautiful gift. I'm not trying to minimize their pain at all, just pointing out that she had something I longed for! She got to say goodbye. She gave birth to a live baby. She was able to look into her daughter's eyes. I so wish I'd have known to say goodbye. I wish I could have looked into Jackson's eyes. Just for a moment. And, yet, I know that if I'd had a moment, I would have longed for another. There is no 'enough' in something like this.
Jackson's body was very fragile and deteriorated quickly. Because he had been deceased for over a week in my womb before birth, his bones had collapsed and his body was "squishy" (technical term for it)! But, it was easy to see that he had Eddie's mouth (a Kermit-the-Frog mouth, as I like to call it) and Eddie's brow. That is a beautiful treasure for us. The pictures I have are treasures as well. I have a hard time taking myself back to those peaceful hours that I held him - I want to remember it so badly, but there are too many painful memories that cloud it out. For now.
I know God will give me that again. I also trust that this pain I feel is where I am supposed to be right now. This is the season that God has chosen for me and I trust that walking through this pain is part of the work He is doing in me to bring about the good that I know He has in store. I have yelled at God and cried out to Him and expressed every emotion ... and at the end of it all, I have trusted Him. I know He can handle my grief and I know that He is walking me through this. I haven't felt like I could "hear" much from Him ... except to REST and TRUST in Him. I have heard that repeatedly. Those very words were in a song we sang at church on Sunday and I just smiled as I felt God affirming what I already knew I was hearing. He is so very good. Even when my circumstances are anything but.
We spent last week staying at a beach house on Galveston island. It was wonderful and a much-needed getaway for all of us. The kids needed some fun and distraction, Ed needed some fishing and I just needed some time away to think and process the events and emotions of the past few weeks. Its amazing how relaxing the sound of the ocean can be. I loved walking on the beach and looking at the waves crashing and being reminded of just how little understanding I have of the mind of God. So little understanding of just how big and amazing He really is.
By the end of our trip, I was feeling desperate. I'd gone to the beach for some down time and some relaxation, some fun, of course, but also in hopes of "pulling myself together," or "figuring out my emotions;" of finding some end to my intense grief. About the only thing I 'figured out' is that this is for sure a process, a journey - and a long one at that. Just like everyone has been telling me. I was sure hoping I could bypass the process. :) Maybe deal with it all at once? In a week. Nice, tidy little package of grief. Done.
I don't think I really know what my expectations were (or are), but I do know that I have to find a way to move forward while still mourning my loss. Life continues on ... whether it feels like it should or not. My children need me. I am praying every day that God will cover them with His grace - to meet their needs when I can't. To give me the energy I need to be the mom they need. Sure, I have much to be grateful for and I am. I have an amazing husband, a beautiful marriage and four wonderful children still here with me. I am blessed beyond what I deserve, for sure. But, there is a void as well. A hole. A missing piece. SomeONE missing. Someone I think about every second of every day. Someone I long to see again. To hold in my arms again. To hold his little hand again. To look into his eyes.
I know that everyone wants to help - and I am appreciative of that, I really am. In all the ways it comes, I am thankful. I am blessed to have a few friends and family that "get it" - and keep asking how I am, knowing that this is a long journey, knowing that I want and need to talk about Jackson & the whole experience, that understand my tears are a good thing, that this process isn't pretty, that I need to hear his name spoken, and that I just need them to listen.
Everyone I love is hurting. I don't know how to help my children or my husband, much less myself. I know that I may need counseling. I get it. I know that I might need help walking through this - and if/when that time comes, I will seek it out. In the meantime what I need are friends and family that aren't afraid of my grief.
I am in awe at the power and intensity of this grief. I've had my share of losses and life events that required grieving, but this is just different. So much heavier. Tomorrow will be one month since I gave birth to my sweet boy and I am amazed at how deeply I still mourn. I could not have imagined this a month ago. I am shocked at what a scatterbrain I've been, how little focus and energy I have. Its exhausting. Physically, mentally, spiritually and obviously, emotionally.
I am usually a pretty open book. I don't typically hold things in. And because I love to write (and talk), I have plenty of words - its just hard to know what to share and with who (whom?). I have literally felt like I was losing my mind. Like I was going crazy. So, I kept things inside.
Until last weekend. I read the book, I Will Carry You by Angie Smith. She made me feel normal again! I used to read her blog and pray for her sweet family as they grieved the loss of their daughter just hours after her birth. I cried through the whole book - partly because I felt like she was telling MY story and partly because I so desired what she had - TIME. She knew months before her baby passed away that it would happen. Before I lost Jackson, I would have seen that as a horrible, awful turn of events. But from where I sit now, I see it as a beautiful gift. I'm not trying to minimize their pain at all, just pointing out that she had something I longed for! She got to say goodbye. She gave birth to a live baby. She was able to look into her daughter's eyes. I so wish I'd have known to say goodbye. I wish I could have looked into Jackson's eyes. Just for a moment. And, yet, I know that if I'd had a moment, I would have longed for another. There is no 'enough' in something like this.
Jackson's body was very fragile and deteriorated quickly. Because he had been deceased for over a week in my womb before birth, his bones had collapsed and his body was "squishy" (technical term for it)! But, it was easy to see that he had Eddie's mouth (a Kermit-the-Frog mouth, as I like to call it) and Eddie's brow. That is a beautiful treasure for us. The pictures I have are treasures as well. I have a hard time taking myself back to those peaceful hours that I held him - I want to remember it so badly, but there are too many painful memories that cloud it out. For now.
I know God will give me that again. I also trust that this pain I feel is where I am supposed to be right now. This is the season that God has chosen for me and I trust that walking through this pain is part of the work He is doing in me to bring about the good that I know He has in store. I have yelled at God and cried out to Him and expressed every emotion ... and at the end of it all, I have trusted Him. I know He can handle my grief and I know that He is walking me through this. I haven't felt like I could "hear" much from Him ... except to REST and TRUST in Him. I have heard that repeatedly. Those very words were in a song we sang at church on Sunday and I just smiled as I felt God affirming what I already knew I was hearing. He is so very good. Even when my circumstances are anything but.
We spent last week staying at a beach house on Galveston island. It was wonderful and a much-needed getaway for all of us. The kids needed some fun and distraction, Ed needed some fishing and I just needed some time away to think and process the events and emotions of the past few weeks. Its amazing how relaxing the sound of the ocean can be. I loved walking on the beach and looking at the waves crashing and being reminded of just how little understanding I have of the mind of God. So little understanding of just how big and amazing He really is.
By the end of our trip, I was feeling desperate. I'd gone to the beach for some down time and some relaxation, some fun, of course, but also in hopes of "pulling myself together," or "figuring out my emotions;" of finding some end to my intense grief. About the only thing I 'figured out' is that this is for sure a process, a journey - and a long one at that. Just like everyone has been telling me. I was sure hoping I could bypass the process. :) Maybe deal with it all at once? In a week. Nice, tidy little package of grief. Done.
I don't think I really know what my expectations were (or are), but I do know that I have to find a way to move forward while still mourning my loss. Life continues on ... whether it feels like it should or not. My children need me. I am praying every day that God will cover them with His grace - to meet their needs when I can't. To give me the energy I need to be the mom they need. Sure, I have much to be grateful for and I am. I have an amazing husband, a beautiful marriage and four wonderful children still here with me. I am blessed beyond what I deserve, for sure. But, there is a void as well. A hole. A missing piece. SomeONE missing. Someone I think about every second of every day. Someone I long to see again. To hold in my arms again. To hold his little hand again. To look into his eyes.
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