That morning when I came in to Joshua's room, he was crying. I picked him up, said good morning, and told him how much I missed him. He looked at me, and instantly calmed down. Had I known in that instant what was going to happen next, I don't know what I would have done, or how I would have acted.
But what I wouldn't give to go back to that very instant. That instant of complete love. That moment of calm, peace, and recognition.
What I wouldn't do to go back to that moment, and hold my crying baby again. Watch him recognize me, and calm down immediately. What I wouldn't give to kiss his forehead and give him gentle hug. I loved that little boy enough to give up 51 days of my life for him. I
I also picture that day, after he was gone, making the 2 hour drive home. Shane driving, me in the front seat, Joshua in my arms.
I remember feeling like if we just took him and ran, far far away, that he could stay with us forever. I knew on our way home that our near future held a final good bye. He would spend the night away from us, in a cold room, on a cold table. I didn't want that for him. I wanted him home in our house, snugly warm, and loved. But that was not our reality.
I had to constantly remind myself that he was gone. His body was no longer his home. If we ran, no matter how far, his body would start to decay. He was gone. Running would not change anything for him or for us.
I so badly wish that he was here with us. Grief is such a selfish monster. I know he is much better off in Heaven, healed and whole. But I, selfishly, want him here. I know what he is experiencing in Heaven is better than anything he would ever experience here on Earth, but I wanted him to grow up, learn to walk, run, talk, color, laugh, and love. I wanted him to be my son here on Earth. I wanted him to become a husband and a daddy. All of those things will never be and while I have the Hope that I will see him again, it still doesn't take away the sting of his absence. I just want him. Here. Now.
15 comments:
Oh, Jill, I want that for you too. Love and hugs mama.
*hug*
I am so sorry for your loss. I know this pain, and I have no cure for it myself.
I want this for you too. I cannot imagine going through this. I will be praying for you. My heart breaks at what you have experienced.
~Danna
I can't understand all of your pain. I do know and I know that you know that God understands. He let His Son leave his side in Heaven to come to earth for all of us. I am sure He didn't want to do it. But God had the choice. Unfortunately, your choice would to keep Joshua with you here on earth. Any parent would want the same for the child they love and have known since conception. I know you will see Joshua again soon in Heaven when you will meet our Risen Saviour and Heavenly Father. Oh - what a day that will be. I love you and Shane and Caleb and Hannah and Joshua (my little Popeye). Oh what a day it will be when all of us are reunited in Heaven.
i dont know about you jill, but when sawyer died - and we had him. it was okay. as long as he was in my arms, no wires, no tubes, no needles. it was okay. it wasn't until we had to leave him, that it was bad. that was the beginning of the nightmare.
I remember back to the day of Johnny's funeral thinking he needed something warm and cozy to be buried in...so he wouldn't be cold. How hard it was to say goodbye and have a finality of never physically holding him close to me again. I hurt with you as I read this. It's been 7 months this week for us...it will start to get a little easier, but it will always be a part of you. You are strong and God is lifting you up. Praying for you as this wound is so fresh. I just read the blog for Bowen... God will help. Thank you, Lord for that.
I can't even imagine... We continue to pray for your hearts to be healed.
God must have seen something very special in your family, Jill. Not many people have the strength that you do right now, at this very moment to deal with what you've gone through.
Never let anyone, yourself or otherwise, convince you that you can't handle this grief and pain, because you already are.
Still praying, whole heartedly,
Peach and Drummer
Praying.
Crying with you! Thank you so much for sharing your story with me. What joy knowing you will see him again one day. Blessings!
Jill- I found your blog on Team Ewan's site, and I am so sorry for the loss of your sweet little Joshua. I think about the harsh realities that both you and Kirsten have gone through, and that you must continue to relive in your mind and I hate it for you! It seems so impossible...yet you are both an inspiration as you navigate through your grief. If only wishing, and hoping, and loving could bring those angels back...
Continuing to think and pray for you, sister. If you haven't been to Bowen's website lately, Matt wrote about something someone wrote to him. Three words... "God will help" If you're up to it, check out the "digging deeper" post from 10/12/10. Sending all of our love your way.
My heart is so very heavy for you. I immagine myself in your shoes and I have to swallow back bile that rises to the surface. It is horrible, what you are going through. There is nothing I can physically do to relieve any of your pain. So please know...there is a Mommy of 3 somewhere in Central Ohio who is praying for you @ 10:48 on Saturday, November 13, 2010. I have never met you...but if I did, I would hug your neck, and let you cry, and then I would cry with you.
That photograph is beautiful. Thank you for sharing one of the most personal moments of your life.
Julie
I am so sorry for your loss, what a beautiful photo and post.
if there's anything that I'm SURE Joshua knew, it was your love. A caring, loving mother like you is a channel for the Divine one (God)'s love here on Earth. It is amazing that you sat by his side for 51 days... I know for you there was no choice... You are such a LUCKY woman for being able to be there for Joshua the entire time. I know personally, (and i'm sure you do also) more than one mother whose baby was in the hospital for so long, so far away from home, that she wasn't able to stay by his side, due to financial woes and unavailability of extended aid (even the ronald mcdonald house has to kick you out sometime)... When my son was born, he developed pneumonia from swallowing too much meconium and because I live in a rural town in Northern California, he was rushed via helicopter to UCSF (San francisco)... he only needed a little suctioning and an oxygen tube for a day or so, but I was lucky enough for him to be in what is considered one of the best NICU units in the country.... by the time we arrived the next day (a 6 hour drive with a 4th degree perineal tear just hours after birth!) our son was happy and smiling and worry-free... we had the healthiest kid in the room... they forced us to stay there an entire other week because they were force feeding him formula and he was throwing it up. (once they let me breastfeed him, he took it all and we were discharged the next day-UGH) anyway, we were devastated and were by our son's side the entire time we were there.... but I know that we were sent down there for a reason. Having my (after the first 24 hours) healthy son in the hospital really taught me a few things about appreciation... I don't know what the hospital you were at was like, but at UCSF, in such a big city, with such a great NICU unit, I had the opportunity of seeing a HUGE number of really really REALLY sick babies. UCSF prides themselves on the fact that they nurture babies that are born as early as 24 (is that the right number?) weeks... We saw babies with all kinds of health problems... some had monitors hooked up directly into their brains... you could see it by looking at them... the memories of some of these babies haunt my husband and me on a regular basis... but the MOST haunting part, by far, is that the whole week we were there, there were only 2 mothers, out of probably 12 babies in the room, that we saw....
(con't...) but the MOST haunting part, by far, is that the whole week we were there, there were only 2 mothers, out of probably 12 babies in the room, that we saw.... the ENTIRE TIME.... later we learned that it was because most of these babies were born to drug addicts and were alone, without family, their entire hospital stays, and for some of them, their entire life span. Now don't get me wrong-- the nurses there are INCREDIBLE and as close to mothers as these babies will ever get, but in a huge city and huge hospital like that, one nurse for three or four babies just isn't enough to keep these little hearts beating... anyway, my point wasn't to make us all cry, but to let you know that you are an exceptional AMAZING mother.. and I don't know if things are like that in the hospital in Indianapolis, but I woke up from my sleep at 5am and feel incredibly compelled to tell you and your compassionate readers about these babies at UCSF (and i'm sure other big inner-city hospitals) that are born WAY too early to parents who only had them (sorry if this sounds HORRIBLE-but it's true) because they were too drugged up to remember their abortion appointment) Well, God had/has something in store for these babies. They were/are incredible people whose wise, loving eyes I would gaze into while the nurses weren't looking. It's terrible, but for liability purposes parents like me weren't even supposed to really LOOK at these other babies, much less hold them, kiss them and cry on them like I wanted/WANT to... I don't know why, but whatever is pulling me to write this must know that there is someone out there who these words will touch and they will be able to make a difference in these babies lives. send your prayers and good energy and ask your God to wrap his loving arms around these babies.... On another note, Jill, your words keep me going sometimes when I feel like I can't go any farther... lately I have been so overwhelmed with having a 2year old and a 5 month old that I get crazy and feel like I just need a break, but I take a deep breath and think about what you're dealing with, and it helps me to just hug my kids and love them with every fiber of my being... it helps me to remember that life is fragile and although sometimes I feel like I'm going to lose it and I need a break, I remember that in a heartbeat something can happen and i could never see my kids again. I never need a break. which is good, cuz i don't see one coming for another 18 years..... lol?
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