Birthday, Grief, Love, and His Presence

Yesterday was Joshua's birthday.

It's a day that we are supposed to look forward to and enjoy. It's a day that is supposed to be filled with family, cake, laughter and joy.

It's a day, that so many tell me, that I need to celebrate his life instead of mourn his death.

But how can I celebrate a life that isn't here? To sit around a birthday cake made for a son that is dead is one of the most depressing things on the face of the earth.

August 16th is a day that I dread every year. It's a day that all the memories come flooding back to me. It's a day that I remember how much hope I had for my son's life. It's a day that began the last 51 days of my son's life. It's a day of sadness, not because I didn't appreciate or value his life, but because it's a day that signifies his absence in our lives and in our family.

Over the past 3 weeks, I've done a great job of keeping busy. Two weeks of vacation, summer camp, and the beginning of school have kept my mind preoccupied. But I knew it it was coming. My heart knew that there was really no true way to avoid it.

Yesterday came. The day my son should have turned 4.

There were tears. Lots of tears. Tears from me. Tears from Shane. Tears from Caleb.

Oh, the tears from Caleb. Those are the most heart breaking tears of all. Have you ever watched your 8 year old son process what it means to be "celebrating" his dead brother's birthday? It's awful and heart wrenching. It leaves you crying out for Jesus to give you the strength to make it through; to give you the wisdom and grace to put aside your grief to comfort your grieving child. It's like a sick and horrible punch to the gut that leaves you breathless.

But amid the grief and the tears, there was a Still Small Voice whispering peace. God's goodness was shown again through the kind gestures and words of others. His provision poured forth through cards in the mail, a bouquet of flowers, a cake delivered to our door, kind words on my Facebook timeline, supportive texts to both me and Shane, friends who visited just to see how we were, a family member who came and provided company when loneliness threatened to consume, a card sent to our children reminding them that their brother is loved and remembered. God knew what our needs were and provided for every tiny little detail throughout the day.

My heart is still shattered from losing Joshua. It doesn't consume me daily like it used to. In fact, if I'm not blogging here, that is usually an indicator of having a good day. My bad grief days are few and far between. But when they come, they COME. It will likely always be that way, and it's ok. It's ok because it shows how much I love my son. My tears are my way of letting my love and fierce devotion to Joshua show. It's my way of letting my heart cry out to God, begging him for peace and assurance. It's through those tears that Jesus draws me closer to him and breathes healing into my broken heart.

Happy Birthday, Joshua. Your Mommy, Daddy, brothers and sister love you so much. We miss you, sweet boy.

Don't Forget The Daddies

It's no secret that, between Shane and I, I am the one that is more active on social media. Shane has never loved the internet. It wasn't until we got iPhones a year ago that he finally got his own email address.

He has never minded me using social media, or my blog, he just prefers not to use them himself.

Since he doesn't use social media, he doesn't have the contacts that I do. He's not as verbal (both written and spoken) about his life and his struggle with losing Joshua. I always have been.

It seems that every anniversary and birthday that comes, our friends have been very good about telling ME that they remember Joshua. They do a good job of passing on their sentiments and love, and for that I am grateful.

However, Shane is often times left in the dark.

I think that is probably true of most fathers who have lost a child. The daddies don't show as much emotion or aren't as verbal, and when they struggle, they struggle internally or to a few trusted friends. They don't blog about it (typically) or post on Facebook that they are feeling sad. They just don't.

But, they grieve. Oh, how those daddies grieve.

I have seen it for myself. In very quiet and personal moments, I've seen Shane wipe away a tear. I have witnessed him looking at the picture of him holding Joshua that hangs on our fridge, his eyes lingering a little longer than normal, often accompanied by a big sigh. Or, sometimes he gives one of our living children a hug that lasts just a little longer than usual, simply because he needs an outlet for his loss. Sometimes, out of the blue, he sits down next to me on the couch and puts his head on my lap and lets out a deep sigh. It's a sigh that, I have come to learn, is a sigh expressing his loss and his grief.

As each year comes and goes, my grief is usually more "public." People know when I am having a hard time and, graciously, those closest to me usually offer support, prayers, and encouragement. What they don't realize is that Shane is, often times, feeling the same and even though he doesn't express it, he needs the emotional support as well.

As we come closer to Joshua's birthday, or if you know a daddy that has lost a precious child, please don't forget them. Tell these men that you remember their child. Tell them that you are praying for them. Offer encouragement and support or just simply a listening ear.

These daddies struggle just as much as the mamas do. They just do it differently.

Silent Tears, Quiet Grief, and Sacred Friendships

This week has been a week full of silent tears and quiet grief.

One week from today, my baby should be celebrating his 4th birthday.

Instead, it's just another year gone by that I am left to wonder who he would be.

Over the past few weeks, I have done a lot of traveling.

 Two weeks ago, my husband and I took a week long camping trip, just the two of us. July is our anniversary month and this year we celebrated 10 years of wedded bliss survival growth companionship love. As I try to think about the words to describe our marriage, I just can't place one word on it. We have had our highs, but we have had equally as many lows. And the lows have been LOW. It seems that the past 10 years have been marked with sadness, struggle, grief, anxiety, stress, and exhaustion.

I guess that is normal when you are married at 20 years old and don't really know who you are. Add four children, jobs, college, death, and houses into the mix, and you learn who you are and who your spouse is. We have spent the past 10 years growing up together and it's been exhaustingly wonderful.

As Shane stated last night, our love is deeper and more firmly planted than it was 10 years ago. We have survived and thrived. We have loved and lost and stayed together through it all. I've cried silent tears of thanks that our love and our marriage has remained. I can't imagine losing him after everything else.

Last week, the kids and I went on a small road trip to Maryland to visit my friend Marina. Marina and her husband lost their son, Charlie, to HLHS 4 years ago also. They are now raising Charlie's surviving twin brother and also his rainbow baby sister. Marina and I met shortly after her sons were born and she was quick to offer encouragement and wisdom before Joshua was born. Our friendship has grown over the years and we have found sacred space in the deep crevices of our friendship.

The kids and I spent a week with Marina and her family last week. Even though it was chaotic with 5 kids under the age of 8, it was so comforting to be with someone who understands. She knows the pain and heartache of saying goodbye to her baby. She knows the pain of having to learn to live without him. She knows the joy of a rainbow baby, but also the struggles that accompany new life. She knows the struggle to balance grief with joy, anxiety with letting go, and raising children while in the thick of grief.

I am safe with her. I can cry without having to explain myself. She, the same. We don't have to speak about the pain. We can just sit in silence and share each others pain. We don't have to explain why we do the things we do, especially when it comes to raising our children. We understand the anxiety and the overwhelming need to keep our children close. We just get it.

One day, when I stepped out of the shower, she could tell I had been crying and she knew why. She simply followed me into my bedroom and offered a hug and shoulder to cry on. That is sacred. She understands and supports and loves because she, herself, knows.

But now, I'm home. The tears have been falling, often silently. I don't want to share them any more. I hide them. I don't talk about them. I just let them come and conceal them from others.

After four years, I've found that I'm tired of explaining them. I'm not overwhelmed with grief and sadness like I once was. But the tears are there. My mama heart hurts for a baby that isn't. Small things remind me of the loss. Big things remind me of the life that won't be. And the ache in my heart works its way out through my tears. I'm not necessarily looking for comfort from others, or searching for answers to life's big questions. My tears are simply signs of a mother missing her child.

Four years have passed. My grief has changed. Joshua's birthday is a painful reminder of what is gone- a birthday without the birthday boy; another school year beginning without my child.

My heart aches. My soul cries out. My arms yearn to hold the child that he would be. But it just isn't, and tears are all I have left.

God's Way of Pouring Out His Grace

As time moves on, I sometimes tend to lean towards the idea that people have forgotten.

Life has moved on. That's what it does. It keeps moving.

When loss comes, our lives feel shattered and we don't know how we will ever move forward. We realize quickly that nothing will be the same. Most of all, there comes a time when people stop speaking his name.

The first year, Joshua was remembered in a way that left me speechless. People from all over remembered him. They lit candles in memory of him, they sent cards. They said and wrote his name to me. Those who got to know him in real life, reached out to me and encouraged me to remember his life and what a blessing it was instead of focusing on his death. All of the words of encouragement, love, and remembrance brought peace. My baby was remembered.

Then there was year 2. Some relationships fell apart, while others began to blossom. Joshua was remembered again, but not by as many as the first year. I know it's wrong to expect people to remember, but it hurts when they remembered the first year and not the second. It was a painful reminder that life goes on.

The 3rd year was even less. And I noticed. I noticed the ones who were intimately involved in Joshua's life and our life, who didn't even acknowledge the day. Close family and friends who didn't remember. It hurt. A lot.

But what can I expect? Life just goes on. It just does.

I let it go, knowing that I can't expect others to feel the loss like I do. I let it go, praying that God would help heal my broken and bitter heart. I let it go, just trusting that God continued to have a purpose in Joshua's life and my brokenness, and that he would reveal it to me when it was His will to do so.

Next month is year four. I am expecting the number of phone notifications to be even smaller this year. I am expecting the sting of others forgetting or not realizing the importance of acknowledging the days- even if they aren't involved in our lives anymore.  Life just goes on, I can't blame others. I just can't. But it does hurt.

But this is where God has poured out his graciousness on me. This year is different.

God has shown me, in specific people, that Joshua's purpose on Earth was fulfilled.

Just a few weeks ago, a woman reached out to me. She said that because of Joshua's life and my words telling his story, that she accepted Christ as her savior just after Joshua died. Not only that, but shortly after she received the gift of salvation, her husband and 3 sons did also. Now, don't get me wrong- I take no credit for their salvation. I did nothing to bring them to it, but God worked in their hearts through Joshua's life. What an honor. What an amazing purpose to his life. God is so very good and so very gracious.

And over the past 3 days, I have had 4 separate emails/facebook messages from completely random people (that I would never expect to hear from) telling me that they remember Joshua. They have shared how Joshua's life has impacted their own, and I have been beyond blessed to know that my sweet baby boy has been remembered.

Tonight, I am in awe of God. I am in awe of a God who knows me so well and provides for my every need. I am in awe of a God who prompts others to share their memories with me. I am in awe of a God who is the creator of the universe, yet provides a way for my heart to heal through others.

I am so undeserving of his grace, yet he lavishes it upon me.

For those of you who remember, thank you. Thank you for blessing me in such a mighty way. Thank you for keeping Joshua alive in your heart and giving meaning to his life. Please don't ever hesitate to say his name to me or Shane. We love to know that he is remembered. 

A New Grief

Over the past 3 years, it is no secret that I have struggled with Joshua's death. I have experienced every type of emotion and every facet of grief.

I have felt God's presence in ways that are inexplicable, and I have also felt completely abandoned by Him. There have been times of complete clarity, and times that I couldn't tell you which way was up. I have been able to clearly explain my feelings and my grief, and there have been times that the words just don't come.

Lately, I've been struggling again. But again, as time has gone on, my emotions and the way I process my grief has changed. I've become more private about it. I don't share it with my husband or even my best friend. I often find myself thinking that it's pointless to even express my grief any more because there is simply nothing new to say about it. It's all the same old, same old and for lack of a better explanation, I'm tired of it.

But now there is a new and festering aspect to my grief. Anger.

Not anger like the rage that I felt at Thanksgiving just a month after Joshua died. No, this is festering, bubbling over anger. It's anger that makes me feel isolated and alone. It's anger that is being directed towards everything and every one. It's anger that scares me.

I haven't written here in a  long time. I have stopped writing because my grief has changed. I haven't NEEDED to write. But I'm finding myself in a place that scares me and I don't know how to fix it.

I am angry and if I don't figure it out, it will destroy me.

So what am I angry about? Everything.

I'm angry at the God that I love with my whole being. He did, after all, allow our baby to die in my arms. He allowed my husband to be 2 hours away when our baby died. He allowed me to be alone and have to tell my husband that his son died and then wait for two hours until he could get to the hospital. He allowed our family to be seperated by over 100 miles for over 2 months while Joshua was alive, only to be taken away. He allows my husband to question whether his own son even knew who he was!!!

He allowed our family to be subjected to attacks from complete strangers who blamed his death on me mere moments after Joshua died. He continues to allow those attacks to come, 3 years later after the fact. He has allowed 3 long years of painful healing and growing. He has allowed me to continue to struggle with anxiety on a daily basis- despite my pleas for refuge. He allowed my dad to die at the age of 56 just a mere 14 months after Joshua died. He allowed so many other things that have been and continue to be so incredibly painful. And I'm mad at him for it.

I'm mad at people who are guilty of nothing but reminding me of myself and my life before Joshua- a painful reminder of who I was and the person that died inside when Joshua died. I see their innocence and their faith that comes so easily- even though they think it is hard. I hear the Christian platitudes of, "I'll pray for you" and "God won't give you more than you can handle. You are so strong." (which, by the way is not even Biblical!!!!) I hear things like, "Just look to God for your answers." or "You have a wrong view of God, that is why you are angry at him." I look at people who bring hardships upon themselves and then complain about it as if they are completely helpless to fix the situation. And all of these things make me so ANGRY!!! (I know there have been so many blessings and good things that have come along the way, and I'm not diminishing those things.)

Now, I know in my head and in my heart that God is good. I love him with my whole being. I have seen his mighty hand in my life and through Joshua's life. He has given us so many blessings despite the pain and suffering.

This is why worship is so hard for me. I worship and love a God who has allowed so much suffering and pain  in my life. It seems so contradictory. But I love Him. And I trust Him.  Completely.

But that doesn't take away my pain. It doesn't take away the anxiety that I surrender every. single. day. of my life. It doesn't take away the fact that my baby is nothing but a pile of ashes that sits on top of my dresser instead of a wild 3 year old running around making me crazy with exhaustion.

I'm having a hard time reconciling my anger and my love. I can't begin to understand how good and faithful God has proven himself, yet how much pain I have in my life because of what He has allowed to happen. I just cannot make sense of it.

So here I am. Writing again. Please bear with me while I work this out. Be gentle with me as I tell you of my struggles. And offer your words of wisdom and your prayers.

I am determined not to get stuck. I feel like this new grief is just another part that I need to work through, and I KNOW that God will be faithful through it. He will get the glory. I just need to work through it.

Reconciling the Past with the Present

Caleb was 4 when Joshua was born and died. At the time, he was in preschool for half the day and at daycare with Hannah for the other half. Shane was working full time and when he got off work, would pick them up from daycare and care for them in the evenings. During the weekends, Shane and the kids came down to Indianapolis to visit Joshua and Mama.

However, due to their age, they weren't allowed in the NICU to see him. Caleb could, but he could only come for 15 minutes at a time with preapproval from the neonatologists. It was a constant juggling act and Shane and I did our best to provide as much normalcy and routine for the kids as we could. We tried to keep their schedules and routines the same. We tried to make their weekends fun by going to the Children's museum, the park, or the zoo.

Thankfully, Hannah was spared the memories. She was only 2. She doesn't really remember much from those days. She knows who Joshua is through pictures and our stories about him, but she doesn't remember the chaos that was his life.

Unfortunately and fortunately, Caleb does remember.  He remembers seeing his brother for short periods of time. He remembers us telling him that Joshua was very sick. He remembers plopping down in the waiting room lobby after Joshua's first surgery and saying, "I'm not going anywhere until I see my baby brother."

He remembers the child life specialist explaining to him that Joshua was going to have a big "ouchie" on his chest when he saw him. He remembers seeing Joshua with the tubes and lines and chest open.

I'm so thankful he has those memories, but he's having a hard time with it again.

He's 7 now. 3 years have gone by. At the time, Joshua was a very concrete and tangible person. He was his brother.

But now, he's reprocessing what happened. He's beginning to understand the consequences and results of Joshua's life. And it's hard for him to understand.

After school today, he asked me, "Mom, if Joshua didn't die, would we still have Lukey? If he was still alive, would Lukey still be our brother?"

Punch. To. The. Gut.

I answered honestly. I told him that if Joshua had died, we would not have Lukey. We most likely would not have had another baby.

That is so hard for him to reconcile. He loved Joshua so much. He still does. But here is Lukey, who he also loves very much. How does a 7 year old understand that he can't have one and not the other? How does he make sense of his love for one brother that wouldn't have happened without the other?

He's been having a hard time lately. He's been struggling with what life would be like if Joshua were still here. It's a concept that is hard for me to understand at almost 30 years old. How in the world will a 7 year old understand it?

I know he's reprocessing what happened, and I'm glad that he is, but it breaks my heart all over again to see him struggle. Please pray for us as we help him to reconcile the past with the present and for him to be at peace with it.

I'm Not Sure.

I can't seem to get my mind to come up with the words that I want to share.

I'm not sure if it's the massive amount of things that need to be done over the next few weeks.

I'm not sure if it's because I'm trying to learn to let grief continue to have it's way with me as I am still mourning, 2 years later.

I'm not sure if it's because, as the time comes closer to move to our new home, I am reminded of God's grace and mercy, yet so completely mystified by His plan for my life.

I'm not sure if it's the steroids that I've been prescribed to help get some fluid off my knee- (my anxiety has been at an all time high because of the unexplained pain in my knee.) Let's just say I have been a little big HIGH WIRED these past few days.

I'm just not sure what is going on with me.

I have found myself in a place, emotionally, that I'm not sure what to do with. I find that deep down, at the very core of who I am, there is Peace. Peace that comes only from God. There is peace, and trust, and hope.

But on the surface, there is sadness, anxiety, stress, and exhaustion.

I want to find a place of rest. I want to find a place where the Peace outweighs the exhaustion and anxiety.

I have been challenged lately by some loving and truthful friends to keep searching. To keep reading God's words to find that peace. To keep trusting in His promises.

I've been digging. I've been searching my heart out. I have been crying out to God.

I feel Him moving, and I hear Him saying, "In my timing. Rest in me and I will bring that peace."

So, I wait. I wait for the stress to be over. I will continue to wait for Him to show up to show His Glory. I will continue to trust in His plan for my life. In the mean time, I continue to ask for grace and truth from those around me.

Answered Prayers and Honoring Joshua

I have been praying for a while now, that God make Himself physically present in my life. I have begged Him to make himself evident, leaving absolutely NO doubt that He is here with me.

It's a prayer I began praying not too long ago during a time in my life when I felt like He was the farthest away from me. I was in a very dark place, wondering how a good and merciful God could allow such suffering and heartache. I knew I NEEDED Him more than ever, but it was so hard just trusting Him because I was hurting so deeply.

So, I began praying.

That is around the time that He began opening doors- finding our builder "on accident" on Craigslist, a work at home job that allowed me to earn some extra income for our family, and a new church. All things that I know He brought to us.

Just yesterday, God answered some more prayers in a very tangible way.

I won't lie and say that yesterday was easy. I won't lie and say that I was excited to get out of bed and "celebrate" Joshua's birthday. I would have slept the day away if I could. My grief was raw, it was intense and it was overwhelming.

But, God had plans to give me reason to celebrate, even when I didn't feel like it.

Right after I dropped Caleb off at school, I got a phone call. It was our doctor. We have been waiting on the results of a Cystic Fibrosis test on Luke (I didn't want to share it publicly, because I didn't want to make a big deal out of nothing if it turned out to be nothing). With his lack of weight gain, and constant constipation as well as frequent respiratory problems, there was slight concern that CF could be the culprit. The doctor was working hard to find out if he had been screened for it when he was born, but finding out that answer was a little more difficult than they anticipated.

After waiting a week for the results, the nurse on the phone gladly told me that he was, in fact, screened as a newborn and he fell within the normal range. I have been carrying around that burden for a week. My anxiety has been at an all time high, almost making me completely unfuctionable (yes, I just made that word up!) and depending on my medication to help calm me down. It was such an incredible relief and a wonderfully tangible answer to prayer!

After that phone conversation, we received another call. It was the construction manager of our new home. He informed us that we are WEEKS away from being finished on the house. Not months like we had planned, but WEEKS!!!! What a blessing and what a great day to hear this news!!! Praise God!


2 HUGE answers to prayer, both on the same day, which happens to be one of the saddest days of the year for me. If that isn't God moving, I don't know what is!

Finally, in memory of Joshua, I was finally able to do this.

It's still red and fuzzy because it's just a few hours old.
Once it's healed up, I will post better pictures!

Joshua's exact handprints. Same size and everything!

I've been thinking about it for almost 2 years now, but just recently realized that I was ready. What better way to remember my son on his birthday than by getting his handprints on my body to stay there for the rest of my life? 

There was so much healing in the pain. It was like a release. I never have to worry about his handprints being lost or ruined. They will always be here. I will always see him when I look in the mirror. His name is written on me forever. There is no forgetting. 

Yesterday could have been a lot worse than it was. I've been so blessed by your support, your love, and your kind words. Your emails, texts, Facebook posts, and messages helped to keep me going. Thank you all so much for loving my sweet Joshie as well as our family. 

This Week

I'm not sure what this week is going to be like for me.

Caleb starts school at his new school on Wednesday. Joshua's 2nd birthday is on Thursday. Shane is working till 10:30pm every night this week. We are officially into week one of Operation Fatten Lukey Up- he is not gaining weight like he should be and we are trying to figure out why.

I'm trying not to dwell. I'm trying not to even think about it. My mind cannot go to another birthday without him here. I cannot think about the exhaustion that normally accompanies the long 8 days in a row when Shane works late. My oldest is going into first grade. Why does he have to grow up? I guess the alternative to never growing up is worse. Thinking about the possibilities behind what could cause Luke to not gain weight is devastating and terrifying to me.

The grief is raw, overwhelming, and crippling. But I can't let it stop me. I have responsibilities. I have 3 little lives depending on me.

The thought of a birthday party is like a swift and hard punch to the gut. I don't want to celebrate. Joshua is not here. I know his birthday should be a joyful day for me. I know I should focus on the life that he had, but it's just an awful and painful reminder of what should be.

My kids, Caleb especially, want to celebrate their brother's birthday. Caleb seems to be processing losing Joshua a lot more lately. He will NOT allow me to say that I have 3 children. He always tells new people that we have a dead baby brother who is in Heaven. I don't want to take away something that could be healing to him because of my pain. If he needs to celebrate his baby brother, I will sacrifice my grief to help him heal. But, dear God, I'm not sure how I can do it.

As this week is coming up, please remember our family in prayer. I feel myself slipping into the deep and dark abyss of overwhelming grief. I don't have the time to wallow in self pity. I have to continue on. I have to celebrate Caleb's first day of school at a brand new school. I have to be intentional about giving Luke as many extra calories as possible. I have to continue to keep it together so my house doesn't completely fall apart while Shane works crazy hours. God, help me. I can't do it with my own strength. I need you, Lord.

Most of all, please remember Joshua this week. Speak his name. Remind me that you are thinking about him. I NEED to know he's not forgotten.

Example of Anxiety

Anxiety is a beast.

It is the one area of my life that I pray on a daily basis that God would take from me.

It is crippling, irrational, completely insane, and completely uncontrollable.

I hate anxiety.

I've never struggled with anxiety- Until Joshua died and then 14 months later, my dad got cancer and died in 8 weeks. Now it is just a part of my life that I am working to overcome, trusting that with the help of some medication, counseling, and God's healing power that it will someday go away.

Here is an example of the type of anxiety that I deal with.

Yesterday, we were getting into the van to go to the store to buy Caleb a new school backpack. As I turned the van on, it started dinging and the ABS and Trac Off lights came on. The message screen also was flashing a message that read "Service Traction System."

After checking the brakes a few times, I knew that it was likely just a sensor problem and Shane reassured me that it was ok and most likely a bad sensor.

So, we went on our way.

I was hoping the lights were just a glitch and after letting the car sit for a while, they would somehow reset themselves. However, that was not the case. After the shopping trip was over, we had to get home, so naturally, I turned on the van. Those blasted lights were still on. This is when the anxiety set in.

Against all rationality, all head knowledge, and just plain common sense, I was fully convinced that the brakes were out in the van and that we were going to die on the way home. I had pictures in my mind of how it was all going to happen. I saw myself in slow motion grabbing onto the steering wheel to brace myself at impact. I heard my children screaming. Glass and rocks everywhere. Metal crunching and churning.

Shane met us at the store after he got off work. He knew that I was anxious about driving the van and asked if I wanted to switch cars. Logically in my mind, I knew that I should just switch cars with him and let him drive the van home, but the anxiety took hold again.

There was NO WAY that I could allow him to drive that van. If someone was going to die, it had to be me. Selfishly, I can't handle another loss, so I might as well leave him and the kids behind and be the one to die. He is the one, after all who has a job and health insurance, and the kids need their daddy. He is the better choice to keep here on this earth anyways! Plus, if I didn't die, I would probably be badly injured and require a lot of recovery time, and since I don't work, it would be more convenient for me to go through recovery than him. Plus, I would rather take the pain of a car accident than allow him to. Totally rational- right? HA!

Now, before you judge me, I want to say, I know that my thought process was ridiculous. I know that it makes me sound incredibly stupid. I even know, that after a few tests, that the brakes were perfectly fine. The worry that I felt was completely irrational. I know this.

However, by the time I got home, I was in a full blown panic. I was shaky, I was crying. I was thanking God for allowing me to get home safely. I took an anti anxiety pill and about an hour later I was able to somewhat laugh at my ridiculousness.

But this is what I face. Day in and day out. Somedays that anxiety is nonexistent. Others, it's crippling. Sometimes i'm convinced I'm going to die. Other days, I'm convinced my kids or Shane are going to die.  It's constant, it's intense, and it's EXHAUSTING.

Something about writing all of this stuff out is so incredibly therapeutic for me. I also hope that my struggles with anxiety help someone else feel a little less "crazy." I know I have struggled with what I KNOW to be true, and where the anxiety thought process takes me. I know I'm not alone in this.

Your prayers for healing from the anxiety are greatly appreciated.

Getting Back on Track

I have a confession to make.

I've been slacking.

My weight loss was going incredibly well. Until summer hit.

I've gotten lazy.

I've stopped tracking and I have been enjoying my food waaaaay too much.

However, I have not gained.

I am sitting right at the 32-34 pound loss mark. I started off at 255 pounds. I weighed in this morning at 221.   That number has not gone up at all, but it's not gone down either.

So, back on track I go. Today, I went to the grocery store for our weekly shopping trip. Instead of buying the junk that I love, I bought the healthy stuff that I love. (ok, well, maybe I bought a little bit of the junk that I love- everything is ok in moderation, even the junk- right?!)

I have 50ish pounds to go. I want to get there by the end of this year.

I can do it. I can do it. I can do it.


Let me grace you with a few pictures of my lovely self. I call these the "COME ON, JILL!!!!!!! Get your butt in gear!!!!' pictures!

34 pounds down

50 more pounds to go! I can do this!!!

And just for good measure. This is me at my heaviest.

Don't mind that awful bedhead.
I took the picture to make fun of my wonky hair,
but it turned out to be a pretty good "before" picture.

Speak His Name. Remember Him

It's hard for me to believe that we should have an almost 2 year old running around our house.

In 1 month, Joshua should be celebrating his 2nd birthday.

These past 2 years have brought healing, but they have also brought distance. Distance between myself and my child.

The memories are fading, and what is left is deep grief, spiritual upheaval, and anxiety from the traumatic experiences that his life brought.

His name is being spoken less and less. Not so much by myself, Shane, Caleb or Hannah, but by others. He isn't in the forefront of other people's minds. Yes, people remember him, but his memory isn't as fresh and as painful as it once was.

As Joshua's 2nd birthday comes closer, please remember my baby. If you think of him, please don't hesitate to send me an email, a message, or leave a comment about it.

As I've traveled this road of grief, I have discovered that nothing grieves a mother more, than when her child's name isn't spoken- when her child isn't remembered. I promise you, the mention of his name is not painful. Yes, there may be tears, but they are not tears of sadness or pain, they are tears of love, blessing, and honor.

1 month before he died.

Bright eyes!

Snuggle time with daddy! <3

Just A Quick Update and A Prayer Request

I wanted to let you all know that I am, in fact, still alive and well.

My silence last week was due to a family vacation with Shane's family. We spent the entire week camping at a state park!

It was a good time, but man, oh man, was it HOT. Over 100 degrees for the 6 out of 8 days we were there. Thankfully, while the cabin did not have air conditioning, our camper did.

We are home now, and we are EXHAUSTED! Lukey seems to be running a bit of a fever and I'm working on getting caught up on laundry.

If you are a praying person, would you mind praying for me?

My anxiety has been at an all time high this week. At one point, I was fully convinced that someone was going to break into our camper while we were sleeping, steal my children, and then murder me. It was so bad that I had to call my mother in law at the cabin and ask one of them to come and make sure there wasn't some dark figure hanging around the camper.

I'm also on edge because of Lukey's fever. After a quick trip to the grocery store tonight (in which I didn't bring my phone with me) I was convinced that Shane was going to have to get a hold of me because Luke stopped breathing or something ridiculous.

It's been a rough week for anxiety and have been taking my medication as I need it. This is just one part of me that I am trying to learn to live with since Joshua died. It's a part of my life that I hate. It makes me miserable, and I know it's completely irrational, but I can't control it. :o(

I appreciate your prayers. If I can ever pray for you, please don't hesitate to email or leave a comment!


And on another note, our house now has windows, doors, and a garage door! It's coming right along! next up? Rough plumbing, rough heating and cooling, and rough electrical! I can't wait!!!

26.2

I've reached one of my many goals for my weight loss!

After this weeks weigh in, I am down a total of 26.2 pounds.

At 25.5 pounds, I reached my goal of losing 10% of my body weight.

I did it. I've been at this for 16 weeks and have lost 10% of my entire body weight! WOOT WOOT!

I am now down to 228.8.

 I started off at 255.

Still a looooong way to go, but I'm making progress, and I am so stinking proud of myself.

Good, old fashioned hard work and self control is so hard, but feels good.

Now, if I could just muster up enough courage to take a picture of myself.

I think I'll save that for another day.

No Contest

One thing I have learned about grief, is to never compare losses. A persons loss, no matter if it's a pet, a friend, a sibling, a parent, or a child, is a big loss and should never be minimized.

I was on Facebook the other day and someone posted that a family member just gave birth to a stillborn baby.

My immediate reaction was pain. I know too well what this family will face in the upcoming days. My heart broke, wishing there was a way that I could offer comfort or support.

As I sat in front of the computer, I didn't know what to type, but I knew that I needed to type something.

I stumbled through my thoughts and all I could muster was a, "That breaks my heart. I'm so so sorry. Praying. <3."

Even after experiencing the loss of Joshua and my dad, when someone else experiences a loss, I never know what to say. I know all too well, words can't take away the pain, but acknowledgement is needed.

Then I read through previous comments.

One of them took my breath away.

It said, "I'm so sorry. It is so hard to loose a baby, but much easier than losing them later when you really get to know them."

I swallowed hard and held back the tears. I refrained from responding. While I don't know this person, I am almost 100% sure that they meant no harm and were trying to be gracious and gentle.

But come on. People, don't say stuff like this. JUST. DON'T. DO. IT.

A loss is a loss. A loss of a child, or anyone for that matter, is never "easier." Age doesn't negate the important-ness of that child in your life. When a baby is lost, there is the grief of all the "should have beens." There is grief in knowing that you will never get to know that little person.  It was your child.

When a child is lost later in life, that pain is also, but equally, as painful. Yes, you know that child. You raised that child. You sacrificed for and loved that child.

But hear me. This is not a contest. Grief is not something to be compared. It is never appropriate to say, "My loss is so much worse than yours." Your loss is your loss, my loss is my loss, and it all SUCKS.

Please, friends, please think before you speak. I know we all make mistakes, and we all want to take away the pain of loved ones that are grieving. But, please, don't add to the pain by saying stuff like that. Don't compare losses. Don't rank loss from easiest to hardest. There is no such thing.

Church

Shane and I have been attending church. (Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!?!?!)

It's not been consistent, and we haven't expressed any desire to make any sort of commitment, but we have been making an effort to go.

Church is something that continues to be extremely difficult for me.

Since Joshua's death, my faith has changed. My love for God has changed. My trust has changed. It's still there, but it looks NOTHING like what it used to. In some ways, it's better, in other ways, not so much.

In the early days after Joshua's death, I literally felt God's love enveloping me. It surrounded me, carried me, and gave me strength to make the decisions that no parent should have to make.

In the months following Joshua's death, my attitude towards church started to change. I had major questions of faith. I was frustrated that everything that I had learned about God no longer matched up to what I now experienced. I was angered to hear sermons about reaching the lost of the community, when my family was sitting right there, in the 4th row, screaming out for help- yet no one seemed to notice. I was torn between longing to sing lyrics of love and worship while my heart wanted to scream and curse at the very same God who allowed my baby to die.

After a few months, I couldn't take it any longer. It became too hard. It became to painful to continue on. We became the black cloud in worship on Sunday mornings. So, we stopped going. We left the church that we had been going to for years. A church that I had been on which I had been on staff. A church that had loved our family and supported us through some of the darkest days of our lives.

The absence from church was actually really good for me. I continued wrestling with my faith and after a while realized that I had to make a choice. I had to choose whether to keep this faith of mine, or give it all up and figure out how to live this life without God. I chose to keep my faith, knowing deep down in my heart that Jesus loves me enough to die for me. God's love for me runs deeper than I can ever understand. I knew that His grace covered me when I truly asked for forgiveness for my ugliness and anger.

Even with the decision to remain faithful to God, my heart didn't feel right in church. It felt very superficial, lonely, and like faith was supposed to fit in a nice neat little box. Mine, however, does not (and probably never will, ever again.)

However, after a year of being out of church, Shane and I decided to give a couple churches a try. One of the churches we attended, we both felt extremely comfortable. The pastor is a very kind hearted and gentle person who welcomed us with open arms. The congregation is big enough to get lost, but small enough to know a few people. The kids loved the children's programs and even had a few friends that they knew. The style of worship is just our style- modern and all about Jesus.

But, I still struggle. When Sunday  morning comes along, I have no desire to go to church. Shane has to drag me, sometimes kicking and screaming. I sit through worship, surrounded by strangers and bawl my eyes out with every song that we sing. I listen to the sermons and beg for God to love me and forgive me for my awful ways. I beg Him to take my burden and carry me through my pain. I leave every. single. Sunday. exhausted, but uplifted- my Hope renewed, knowing that the trials of this life are temporary and that God continues to love me despite my struggles. I feel connected to God through my tears, knowing that He hears the cries of my heart and understands my pain.

We are meeting with the pastor of this church some time this week. He knows our story. He knows our struggles. He knows the questions of faith that I have dealt with. But he doesn't care. He welcomes us and loves us and is willing to walk along side us to help us heal.

Isn't that what church is, after all? Walking along side the sick and hurting. Caring for the less than desirable (of which, I think I have become.) Encouraging and helping foster a relationship with a God who loves us so much that He sent His Son to die for us.

Small steps, my friends. Small steps.

Anxiety and Exhaustion- I'm done with it.

My anxiety has reached new heights this week. Thoughts of Luke dying, feelings of impending death, and a crushing feeling of being completely overwhelmed and exhausted have taken their toll on me this week.

I'm not sure what has brought it on, or where it came from, but this week has been nearly impossible for me to function.

It has been an especially crazy week because we have all been extremely sick with a nasty head cold and Shane has been working late hours- not typically coming home until after 10pm.

Typically a head cold is not enough to send me into a tailspin, but this week it did. It hit me and it hit me hard. I finally reached a breaking point and had to break down and ask for help.

I called my mother in law and asked if there was any way she could come out for a few days to help me out. She kindly rearranged a few of her days and came out, no questions asked.

Having her here has been amazing. She's not done a ton to help, but just having her around has been extremely helpful. I think, for me, to just know that someone was around to help out if I needed it took a huge burden off of me.

I had counseling this morning. I talked to her about my extreme anxiety and complete exhaustion. I told her how I know that my fears are completely irrational, but I can't seem to control it. She really encouraged me to give up the mommy guilt and allow myself some time to rest. Time away from my family, time away to be by myself- to sleep, to rest, to do what I want to do. She encouraged me to spend some time allowing myself to heal from the sickness that has taken over, and simply allow myself time to rest in God's presence.

It was then that I realized that I am not doing anyone any good by being the way that I am. If I want to take the burden off of my husband,  I have to take care of myself. I have to allow myself a day or two to rest and heal. Then, I can come back and start functioning like a normal human being again.

I will openly admit, I am tired of living this way. I am tired of being run by fear. I am tired of worrying about if my children are going to die. I am tired of trying to hold everything together and trying to carry the burden of my entire family by myself. I can't do it all. I am just plain tired.

These next few days, I may fall off the face of the earth. Shane has graciously agreed (because he doesn't like who I've become just as much as I don't like who I've become) to let me have as much time as I need to myself. I don't know what that will look like, but I already feel like a burden has been lifted. He has taken next week off for vacation time and it's the kids' spring break. The timing of it all could not be more perfect!

I may be blogging or facebooking a lot. I may just sleep for 3 days straight. I may just go enjoy some great meals and a movie by myself. I'm not sure yet, but I'm excited. It's been too long since I've done ANYTHING for myself.

Good bye anxiety and exhaustion. I'm done with you.

Moving Forward- It's all or nothing!

I've been thinking a lot about this blog lately.

To me, my blog is like a best friend who walks life with me. It's a safe place for me to pour my heart out, live my life, and work out my faith. My blog connects me with people that I would have never gotten to know over the last few years of my life. Actually, my blog connected me to my very best friend, Molly. Without Molly, I'm not sure where I would be today. (Not to mention that her kids are my kids best friends!)

This blog has been through the darkest days of my life with me.

It sounds stupid, but this blog is deeply engrained in a part of my life.

But things have changed. Life's seasons change, and so does this blog.

I feel like it's time to move forward.

It's no secret that after Joshua's death, we were attacked by people who used Joshua's death to further their cause. It's no secret that there are people who still, to this day, come and leave nasty comments about how I "killed" Joshua or how Luke is a "replacement" baby. I've reached the point of just laughing at these types of comments, but in reality, these types of comments along with knowing that these kinds of people continue to read here simply to rip apart everything that I write, has taken away my sense of security here.

In simpler words, this is no longer a safe place for me.

There are so many things that God is doing in our lives. There are so many doors that are being thrown open for us. Things that I want to share, but out of fear for my family's privacy, I don't want to share too much. For fear of the criticism from close minded people, I don't want to write about the ways that God is working. I don't feel safe. Not here on my blog, and not in my personal life.

I'm at a cross road.

I'm at a point where I need to decide what to do with this blog.

Until this morning, I pretty much decided to shut this blog down and start a new one. A fresh start sounded wonderful. Writing anonymously sounded like the way to go.

But as I'm writing this post, my heart is being challenged. What type of witness am I providing by living in fear? If I leave this blog behind, I am only sharing the pain of our lives and not the amazing blessings that God has been pouring out on our family. I find myself asking if satan is trying to discourage me from sharing because he knows that what God is doing can and will provide an amazing testimony to God's faithfulness to our family.

I've been hesitant to share personal details on here lately. Writing is an all or nothing type of deal for me. I'm either going to share everything or nothing at all.

This is what I need to decide. Do I continue on here or do I move on and start fresh? I thought I had it figured out, but now I'm not so sure.

Be patient with me as I decide.

I'm going to take some time to continue to pray about what to do. If I decide it's time to move on, I will do that. If I decide that I am going to stay here, be prepared for me to continue to put it all out there. If I decide to stay, I will risk the criticism and continue to share how God is working. It's all or nothing, folks!

Joshua CHD Doll- A guest post

I met my friend Molly years ago through our blogs when we were both pregnant with our first child. We enjoyed reading each others blogs, and quickly realized that we only lived 20 minutes away from each other. We met 6 years ago and have remained friends since. She has been there through thick and thin, always loving me, supporting me in any way she can, and always making me laugh. Just recently we started a new project together. Please read below to see what we have been up to!

I was very blessed to have the unique opportunity to meet baby Joshua face to face before and after his surgery.

Within 24 hours of his birth, I photographed him. Jill asked me to. She asked for those pictures of him, to remember his newborn body before it was forever changed.

On the drive home that day, after taking those photos, the disbelief over his broken heart overwhelmed me. From the outside, he looked exactly like my newborns had, like Jill's other babies had when I had photographed them. It was hard to accept that on the inside of someone so small, so peaceful, and so perfect, there was something very broken.

When I visited Jill and Joshua after surgeries and crashes, I met the same sweet face. He was so much more aware. His large wise eyes were entrancing, and once he made eye contact he kept it. And kept it. And kept it.

The thing that I remember most about Joshua was how much he was exactly like every other baby I have met. This is what stands out to me, and I think this is why accepting his death was and is so hard.

He had that soft baby hair, the sweet baby smell, his little baby fingers held on to mine with that tiny newborn grasp. He has the little newborn gurgles and growls.

And then, in the middle of all of these things, were his struggles. All the things this very real and very sweet baby endured...

But the thing I remember right after that is his scar, the scar that had left him forever changed left me forever changed as well.

I could write for days on the way life is different now than it was before Joshua. He changed the way I see myself, others, and life in general. Through Joshua I have even met new friends, and become closer with old ones.

But Jill and Joshua also opened my eyes to CHD statistics, and the Heart Community. Joshua made me realize that having a healthy heart is not something to take for granted and how unaware most people are about CHDs and how many people they affect all over the world.

He also opened my eyes to how much the scars of heart children mean and how beautiful they can be. What a badge of courage and hope they are!

In honor of Joshua and the struggles he and all other heart children face, Jill and I created a doll reflecting the scars Joshua bore from his surgeries and hospitalization. We have named him Joshua and are auctioning him off to raise awareness of CHDs and money for their research – in the hope that Joshua's struggles were only the beginning of his impact here on Earth.

To bid on the CHD Joshua doll, click on THIS link! 

(Molly also creates and sells many more dolls just like this. Visit her Facebook Page to take a peek at these beauties!!!)

Angels Here on Earth

Have you ever met an angel here on earth?

One of the many angels who have been caring for my dad came today.

This angel came in the form of an old gentleman with a long beard.

He wore suspenders and an amish style hat that he hung on the hall tree in the front entry way.

He came with a gentle spirit and a willingness to humble himself to a stranger in their greatest time of need.

We had not yet met this man. We knew his name, but that was all. 

Up until today, we didn't even know that he existed- yet today, he provided for my dad and our family in a way that will forever affect the way I think.

This man, a complete stranger, came to help bathe my father.

He was a gentle spirit, with kind and compassionate words.

He's been doing this for 30 years.

Bathing complete strangers- Helping to provide them with some form of dignity in their final days here on Earth.

His gentle touch was calming to my dad who has been in excruciating pain over the past few weeks.

In his kindness, he took time to make sure the sheets were changed and that my dad was comfortable and calm when he left.

In his kindness, he cared for my dad, a complete stranger, in a way that I have never before seen.

It seems so minor and insignificant. 

But for today, he provided more than a bath and a clean bed.

He provided a glimpse of God's tender love for us.

He provided a glimpse of God's compassion for us.

He provided a glimpse of Eternity.

This man.

This old bearded man.

An angel, sent from God himself to pour out His love on us.

What a blessing.