It will not be in vain...

I don't write about him that much anymore. When I first started my blog- preserving the memory of our son JD was a great motivator for it. And I had a deep need to write about him. Remember him. Make him known.

My needs are different now, but he is still very much a part of each moment of my life.

He's in my dreams more than anyone knows. He fills my heart in paces that are dear to me.

And the pain of his passing form our life will not be in vain.

It was one of my greatest fears in the early days after losing him. That everything we went through would lack purpose and seem pointless.

But I know that God doesn't waste pain. I know that he uses everything for his glory.

And Joshua is part of that.

I am amazed at the way that God has already used this experience. I could never have known how many hurting women would be in my life or whom my life would touch in some way.

It's already here. It's already happening. This multiplying of peace and being used by God because of what happened.

Some of you know that I have been working on writing a book dealing with our experiences of Joshua and Caleb's birth and Joshua's death.


Some days the book seems like a dream. I have briefly looked into what it takes to get published and I became intimidated. And yet, I feel a great pull to get this thing done. So I have been contemplating simply getting some printed and having them available to a few hospitals in the area to give out to women who are facing loss. I have already talked to the nurses in my birthing center about it and they are eager for the moment I finish.

I know the pain of loss.

I know the deep and unrelenting torture that goes on in a mommy's heart when she must say good bye to her baby.

I also know the beauty of hope. And it is this hope that drives my desire to get my experiences written down and in the hands of women who need to read it.

Will you pray with me as I pursue this desire?

Alot of what I have written actually comes straight from my journal. Here is an excerpt:

January 15, 2003

It was so cold. In the single digits outside. Even colder inside of me.

We stood at the tiny grave and for the first time a thought went through my mind that I didn’t know I was capable of thinking.

“I want to be with him. Don’t put dirt over him until I can climb in too. I don’t want this pain. Let me go with him!! Please don't make me stay here, living in this agony!”

The intensity of that desire took my breath away. I didn’t really want to go on. This charade of doing life was too exhausting, when the moment he died something died inside of me as well.

And then a vivid picture entered my mind. A tiny hand reaching out. A miniature little body. A boy who was lying in a small enclosed bed an hour away. Mine. My hope. And at that point, my reason to go on.

Every one had walked away from the graveside by then. It was far too cold to spend much time out there at all. Dave and I stood there and prayed, holding one another a few minutes longer.

I took a deep breath then, conjured up a mental picture of Caleb again, and walked away.

I had to see him. We went up to the hospital as soon as we had hugged and thanked the last person who had come to support us.

And there he was. Still looking very frail, but still fighting.

He has to live. He just has to. Do I dare hope? Should I pray? Would it do any good? 

The confusion that I had begun feeling spiritually continued to work its way into my life, causing me to feel further and further away from God. Some how I knew that it was me, not God causing this chasm, but in my grief and sometimes even anger, I pushed that knowledge aside and tricked myself into thinking that God had some how changed. That he didn’t really care. That he hadn’t heard, listened, or cared about the hours I had spent pleading with him for the life of my baby.

I started an almost manic search for why this had happened. I had to make sense of it. The questions tumbled into my mind in droves. They trampled most all other logical thoughts. I had to know.

Why had God granted my request for twins if he knew one would die?

If He is who He said He was, all knowing, all powerful God, then he could have stopped this. Why didn’t he?

Was there a greater purpose? What was it?

Was some one going to come to know him through it? Who? And wasn’t there a better way? A way that was not at my expense?

Where was He?

Why couldn’t I feel Him?

Why did I feel like I was drowning?

When would the suffering end?

Why was Caleb still so sick?

My quest for answers only multiplied the questions and the frustration resulting from that was tearing me apart inside. Slowly. Painfully.

A few weeks after Joshua’s funeral I sat in church singing mindlessly to a God whom I was learning to block out of my life.

My lips sang “At all times I will sing of your greatness. At all times I will sing of your love. At all times I will sing of your faithfulness. For your goodness remains and your love is the same at all times.”

Some thing broke deep with in me. Because although I was denying his nearness, He had not changed. He had not moved. It was I who had moved away from Him. And he was right there, speaking truth into my heart. As my lips sang the words my heart was yearning to once again have sweet fellowship with the one who created my inmost being and loved me beyond comprehension.

I collapsed into the pew sobbing. I gasped for breath. I couldn’t stay there. Not with that song playing and every one around me singing those horrible lyrics! It wasn’t true. He couldn’t be trusted and He wasn’t the same at all times. At least I couldn’t sing of His faithfulness at all times. I couldn’t right then.

I grabbed my purse and ran for the door. I went into the first room I got to; the pastor’s office. It wasn’t long before the pastor’s wife and my friend Rachel quietly came in and closed the door behind them.

They let me cry, and then they lovingly asked me what was going on.

I know my words sounded bitter. I also know I wasn’t judged in that moment.

“I can’t sing…that…song!”

More crying.

“He isn’t loving and faithful all the time. Sometimes he lets us go through awful stuff. Stuff that hurts so bad I just want to crawl out of my skin! Where is He? Where was He when I cried out to Him asking Him to heal Joshua?!”

God was using this song, this moment, these questions to move me into a phase of grief I had to enter into. I couldn’t by pass it. I had to reach this breaking point to move past it.

The two lovely women with me let me talk. They shared some scripture with me. They told me it was okay. Honestly I don’t remember much of what they said or did. I just remember that when I left that room some thing had changed for me. It wasn’t a big step and most, if not all, of my questions still remained, but a small crack was forming in the wall I had built between myself and God.

I didn’t run to him and allow His comfort to envelope me like I wish I had at that time, but I began speaking to him again. Little by little. Here and there. It wasn’t complete unburdening, but it was a step in the right direction.

Then one night I demolished the wall and boldly approached Him in a way I had never in my life done.

We got a call from our dear friends who worked in the youth group at church with us. They were informing us that one of the young teen girls who attended our youth group was pregnant.

I had been living each day in state of numbness. I would put one foot in front of the other. I would visit Caleb. He was making little progress. I would eat, so that I could make milk for him. Emotions came, still mainly when I was alone. Some thing big felt like it was always just below the surface. I couldn’t allow it to come out. If I did I may never stop crying. I had to keep it at bay.

The night we received that phone call I lost the control that I had been so carefully putting in place daily. The situation with the girl in our church started my complete unraveling. It started out as a quiet crying. I look at Dave in disbelief. “I bet her baby will be perfect.” I whispered the words and immediately felt guilt. I would never wish ill on any one’s child, and I wasn’t wishing this one any harm. I was just struck with some of the ironies of this world. The tainted realities that cut so deep.

My crying became louder, insistent, desperate. I had never cried like that in my life. I was screaming and yelling, pounding my pillow. And I finally talked to God. Openly, freely, with no reservation. I yelled at Him. I told Him I was angry, I asked Him why. I screamed at Him. “He was my baby! And you took him!!”

And then, in a whimpering state of exhaustion, as I was being rocked in the arms of my dear husband, I finally surrendered to the comfort that God had been offering me all along.

 The comfort, the love, and the peace that entered into my being right then stunned me. It rushed in like a torrential downpour of sweet goodness. And that is when I realized it had been there all the time. God was longing to soothe the hurts of my heart. But he had created with in me a free will. A will to run to Him or go my own way. The hurt, the disappointment, the grief, the confusion – it had turned my focus from Him. But He was waiting. Always waiting.

I got it then, that it hurt Him so much to see one He loved crying alone. So close to comfort, but denying it. Oh how He loved me. He even loved me when I screamed at Him. I felt as if he were telling me “Go ahead, tell me daughter! Tell me where it hurts. Tell me how you feel. Oh how I have been waiting for this moment.”

I felt no guilt in expressing my feelings to my God. And it was the turning point of my loneliness.

It still hurt. I still struggled, but I was not alone. Not for a minute.

Be careful not to bunk your head

I love their logic.. really, it is just the thing to put a huge smile on my face.

"I know why they are called bunk beds mom. It's because when you are on the bottom one and you stand up you bunk your head on the bed on top!" ~Jay

"MOM - Daddy and Jay are playing with the flight!! They are playing with the flight! Go look!" ~Noe as he peers out the window at Jay and Dave flying a kite...


"Are they called tornadoes mom, because they tore up grandma and grandpa's house?" ~Jay
-This one actually makes me sad, because he was a very young 3 years old when this did, indeed, happen.

"This bug is a tick mommy because they tick us off." ~Jay after having a tick painfully removed from the back of his neck (And I am still greatly traumatized ....and maybe a little ticked off because of said bug)




"Mom, I just put my glasses on the hippopotamus" ~K - as he sets his glasses down on the ottoman (yeah, I was totally looking around for a huge animal in my living room).

To my second born

 You were born second. By six minutes.

But you are often referred to as our first. Because here on earth - physically with us, you are our first.

You tend to fall in place in birth order as a second born - after Jay. So technically that would make you a third born. Jay has many qualities of a first born. He is protective of you in a big brother type of way.

So, you are kind of a first, second, third born.

Confusing much?

Here's what is not confusing: You are completely and thoroughly loved for who you are.

Every day with you is a gift. And guess what? I almost forgot.

 I almost forgot that seven years ago we experienced months of wondering if you would be ours to keep.

And then yesterday I had a conversation with a friend. She talked to me about a time many years ago when they thought that their infant son was not going to make it. I gasped and said, "That must have been awful!"

 And a small voice in my head whispered, "It was. Oh, it was!"

I had to swallow my tears.

Right now we struggle with the fact that you aren't getting the instructions we are giving you on using the toilet.

We are frustrated that for the past nine months we have not been able to figure out if you have been experiencing pettit-mall seizures, or if you have developed migraines.

We have held you through these unusual episodes and have stilled our beating hearts as we search for answers.

And yet...

We almost lost you. 

So many times.

These things we are dealing with now? - They may be inconveniences. They may be baffling and disheartening. But they are not life and death situations.

You are whole and alive and learning and growing.

Reaching for things that were deemed out of your reach. 

When I look at you I see a masterpiece. 


I so clearly see a creator.

A beautiful and intricate design.

And I hope you always know that no matter where you are in birth order,

no matter what you can and can not do,

no matter what the doctors say,

the world says,

the voices in your head say,

even what your mom says,


you were created by a wise and all knowing God who has an incredible plan for your life.


He created you with a purpose and he deeply desires a relationship with you.

Grasp that above all else.


He is God.


He made you.


You are pleasing to him.


And he.wants.you.

As for your mom - she just needs to sit back and remember for a while.


Remember things that were terrible and fears that went deep.

Because in those memories the wonder of the gift that you are is unlocked.

Because the poison ivy post was not very charming on the blog...

 Just wanted to replace the first post that pops up on my blog from nasty to pretty. S0 there ya go. :)

I will admit - there was one point over the weekend when I wondered "Has any one ever died from ivy poisoning?"

So, apparently you can acquire a bad allergy to poison ivy later into your adult years.

I have pretty much always lived in the country and have encountered those leaves of three several times throughout my childhood. I would break out and itch - was slightly uncomfortable, but nothing awful.

About a month ago Dave was working on installing a large redneck-esque TV antenna (free TV - the only way we will have it) and the area by our house where he was working  ended up having a small crop of poison ivy on it.

He broke out.

I said I would stay away from him for a while.

I did not do as I said.

I also think I encountered some poison ivy when I was helping him stack some fire wood in our back yard. At any rate - I found evidence of poison ivy on my arm. It started to clear up after about two weeks - and then in a cruel turn of fate it returned, with a vengeance. It was really bad.

It multiplied. Alot.

I kept waiting for it to get better...

On Saturday Dave went to an all day men's conference in Indiana. K had a "migraine" (what the doctors are now saying these "seizure" type episodes have been all along. This will probably be my next post... ). I was trying to deal with his discomfort and take care of things here but I started feeling really ill. Nauseous, chills, low grade fever. Then I noticed that my arm, where the poison ivy had started, was about double its original size. There were some rather unsettling red streaks going down the entire length of my arm... Not pretty.

It was a rough day. Dave arrived home around 7:30 pm and I left for the after hours clinic. The doctor took one look at me and ordered a steroid shot - I quickly threw out the fact that I was nursing and he changed the order to a one week steroid pill regime (thank you very much my nursing baby. The shot may have expedited the healing, but being saved from a shot is okay with me any day. I've had enough shots to last a life time).

I am now taking the steroids, an allergy med, and an antibiotic... Whew.

I'm feeling so much better - other than the fact that this combination of meds tend to make me sick to my stomach. Worth it to kick out this awful poison ivy onslaught though.

(I really am okay now mom...) ;)

 I've been busy, busy! I hardly even slowed down to get through the poison ivy misery.

Taking lots of pictures (I'll show you soon!), designing a bright, fun, girlie blog for a friend (yes, I am totally hooked to the design thing now...), going to dentist appointments, doctor appointments, and meetings with kiddos, excited about a fund raiser I am helping with for the Center for Women this weekend, planning some charity work for our Sunday school class to do together, dreaming and scheming about camping, yard work, maybe a garden, and lots more stuff....

Just thought I'd pop in for a quick little update. :)

She

She is beauty.

She is patient.

She is my past.

She is my now.

She is giggles on the phone.

She is tears and "I wish I was with you right now".

She is "let's love our husbands better".

and

"Can you believe we are mamas to all of these BOYS?"

She is much anticipated visits

-and scouring the mall.

She is so many warm memories

-and the token "fight" once or twice a year.

She is my growing up years

figuring out life together.

She is 22 months older than me.

She is a big part of what continues to make Iowa still feel like home.

She is spiritual encouragement.

She is a hard worker

-pulling crazy night/weekend shifts

to help her family,

-for important things she is passionate about.

She has been known to drop everything for someone in need.

She is caring. 

She is giving.

She is real.

She is loving on children

and magic with the elderly.

She is funny

-like hilarious (especially after 11:00 pm).

She is my sister.

She is my best friend.

And today she is 31.

(And if the fact that I just declared her age to the world makes her mad -

She will call me.)


Perhaps we just got the token fight for the year over with...

Just in case I forgot to mention it...

We are loving spring.

Half of a year

Tomorrow he will be six months old.

And I will spare you all of the cliches that I could be throwing out there about not knowing how this could have happened so fast -  and staring lovingly at a teeny tiny newborn just to turn around and find that my baby has grown so quickly into a little man right before my eyes. I'm not even going to delve any deeper into all of that - because you know me and you know I am thinking it. It goes without saying....

Indeed he is growing. And personality is bursting out all over the place.



Right now, as I see it, his personality falls somewhere between the will of steal that our Jay demonstrates and the mellow sensitivity that defines Mr. Noe.

He most definitely has a temper. And my oh my are we seeing more of it these days...

But he also is a patient little Mister. - Out of necessity I am sure. When one is the youngest of four one learns to wait his turn.

All of that marvelous thick hair has gone through a bit of a transformation. It has thinned and rubbed off alot on the back and sides but on top it has grown... and grown... and grown. It now gets in his eyes if I don't brush it over to the side (Lovingly referred to as the "comb over"). Daddy threatens to cut it on a regular basis... Mommy is not ready yet. Because mommy is just weird that way.

He wants to move. So much - he is reaching for that mobility. And I am gearing up for days of chasing..and picking up...and back up...and putting things away... and back away. Right now every time that he is lying on his back he flips right over to his tummy and he kicks and reaches - and reaches and kicks. And oh does he get angry when he doesn't get from point A to point B. But instead... he begins to go backwards and ends up at point C.  -And I must say I am ever so cruel of a mama to sit there and laugh at the poor child

It is so exciting to observe one so young and see their emerging individuality. To expectantly wait on all the wonders that are to come.

Yes - this is love. 

Love that we are getting to that point where things are just easier. Not so tiring, not so constant. A routine has been found and he has slipped into our schedule, life, and family so naturally. In such a way that begs the question - how was life before we were a family of six?

Love that (slowly, slowly, slowly) we are beginning to sleep a little bit more.

Love the slobbery kisses.

Love him in a way that fills my heart with a deep and lasting fulfillment.

Be still and know...

His squirms and whimpers turn to flailing and full fledged fussing in the crib next to my bed.

It's the wee hours of the morning and I am tired.

Really not awake at all.

I squeeze my eyes tightly closed and try to shake off the sleepy fog.

He's working on getting two bottom teeth through those tender gums.

He's still fighting off a cold.

He's quite distraught and will soon wake the others who are sleeping so peacefully.

So, I find the motivation to sit up-

and I reach for him.

His little body appears tense as he tosses and turns in his bed.

My hands reach soft warm skin.

And his response gives me pause.

It is immediate. 

It is ...

Peaceful.

Still.

Quiet.

Calm.

His once writhing form is now motionless in my arms.

His little fist reaches out and takes hold of my finger.

The silky hair on his head rubs up against the inside of my upper arm as he snuggles close.

And his eyes close once again.

So completely trusting.

All is well in his world once again.

And I want to emulate that kind of trust and reliance.

Because I know that there are times in my life when I am tense,

pained,

nearly writhing with my own perceived problems.

They seem insurmountable to me.

They cause anxiety.

And when God reaches I deny.

Can't let go of the worry.

Can't seem to be still.

But what I saw in my baby last night was such a sweet example to me and it really made me think.

Because God shows me things about Himself through my babies all the time.

And last night it was "See what he is doing with you? You need to do that with me."

So simple.

So hard.

So important.

Such joy...

I  just had to show you his face!

Wait for it...
 
It's coming...
 
The grin! (Both of them!)

Love builds

Sometimes love means hoping so much for the most independence for a sweet  little boy that he can possibly have.

Sometimes love sees a bright possibility - and follows through to make it happen.

At times that means such love  will motivate one to spend a day digging 12 deep holes, encountering tough dirt and rocks. An aching back and many hours...

It means using Saturdays - which could have been spent doing whatever he wanted to do, to work hard. Calculating angles, measuring, cutting, drilling, tasking.

Hours, and strength, and ingenuity.

He loves his little boy.

He gives me  insight into the way Jesus loves.

His little boy loves being able to go outside by himself with his walker now.