how many children...

How many children do you have?

As a mother I hear this question wherever I go.
I am the mother of five.
But is my answer always five, is it that simple?
For a bereaved parent this is never a simple question.
I sometimes answer four.
If I answer four it might mean that I am not in the mood;
in the mood to let you deep into my life, 
in the mood to feel a sting of sadness,
in the mood to make you uncomfortable.
I might answer five and just leave it at that, 
but often another question follows:
how old are they? 
Which only leads to more awkward answers and questions..
If I answer the truth it can make the conversation uncomfortable.
If I answer four I am often left with guilt, 
guilt for not aknowledging my own daughter..
But I am learning that either answer is okay, 
that God will lead and guide my heart and my response.
The majority of the time I answer with "four and one in heaven".
I often find that when I do, 
the person I am faced with is another bereaved parent,
or someone that needed to hear about Kathleen's brief life,
that God can bring you through the darkest struggles,
that He is our healer, our comforter, our strength.
It may bring a sting of sadness, 
but like the lament psalms they end with 
hope and comfort and encouragement. 
Perhaps the times I don't respond this way, 
I am really robbing the other person of an opportunity to be 
touched, healed, comforted, encouraged, inspired
like so many have been by Kathleen and by my story.
It is a simple question, but not a simple answer.. 
If you want to know that answer that lies deep in my heart,
it would be very controversial. 
My answer would be NONE.
I have no children, they are not mine, they belong to God.
I am their caretaker for however long God allows it.
Be it two hours or a life time.
It may seem like a simple question, but it is not,
and neither is the answer.

five

Five years ago our Kathleen was born, and died.
Hard to believe it's been five years.
Sometimes it's hard to believe it even happened.
The memories of holding her in my arms are fading.
The memories of the excruciating pain are fading.
I don't want to forget.
But perhaps I am not supposed to only remember how she was.
Maybe I am supposed to see what she is.
Five years old.
Blue eyes.
Blond hair.
Pig tales.
Walking with Jesus.
Today five years have passed.
Today I am the blessed mother of five.
Five

butterflies

Those who have read my very first blog know why I have titled this blog site 'Butterfly Tears' and why I am reminded of Kathleen every time I see a butterfly - as we released butterflies at her funeral. I can't express how thankful I am that we did this and that I have something to associate her with here on earth. I don't really buy things for my girl Kaitlin with butterflies, she is my flower, Kathleen IS my butterfly. I know not everyone understands this, and that's okay, because I know that unless you have lost a child there are many things you don't understand..

I walked out of Big Lots a couple of weeks ago with grateful tears in my eyes because I had found the perfect memory box for Kathleen. The week before I had picked up three boxes for my living children but decided against getting one for Kathleen - after all she has the memory box that was given to us at the hospital.. But when I got home I regretted it. Not only is the box not big enough but it also means a lot to me that she is treated equally to my other children, as equal as I can for her not being here physically.. As I headed back to the store I prayed that God would provide a box in the same style as my other childrens but with butterflies which they didn't have the week before. And there it was!!! I am so grateful to God that He provides and cares even about the 'small' details of our lives. This box meant so much to me.

My dream trip is a "Butterfly Trip" to Mexico where you see the thousands and thousands and thousands of monarch butterflies gathered in the trees. After Kathleen died I saw the trip featured on a travel show and just knew that one day I would love to go there. How overwhelming and how beautiful that would be.

Some may have noticed that I include a butterfly in some of my photography business design. It is my way on honoring and including Kathleen, although most won't know. But I actually believe it is because of her that I now do photography professionally. I was a volunteer photographer for forget-me-not before I started my business and it is certainly because of her that I do that! And doing that convinced me I can do anything - including pursuing my dream of having my own photography business.

For Sunday school today Kaleb's homework consisted of drawing a picture of heaven. He drew a picture of Jesus and Kathleen. And then as we sat in the service a butterfly came flying by!!! In the middle of winter, here is a butterfly, in the church! It reminded me that although Kathleen is in heaven and I am comforted that one day I will see her again, she is also present with us here, on earth - because we remember her, we speak her name.

Kathleen, my little butterfly.

boot camp

I recently listened to a sermon titled "God's boot camp".
How essentially the Israelites had a boot camp in the desert.
We too are in God's boot camp, sometimes more intense
than others, but I think we are always being refined and taught.
Every struggle we go through, every suffering, is a way for God
to refine us and teach us even more. I think there are two things we need
to get out of every trial we experience: we need to learn
something and we need to act on it.

My biggest boot camp is called 'Kathleen'.
In the valley of death I learned that God truly does love us unconditionally because in a time when I didn't spent much time with God and didn't do much for God, He still loved me and blessed me.
I learned that with God's strength I can survive anything,
even the death of a child.
I learned that God is in control, no matter the circumstances.
I learned that ALL things can be used for good.
I learned compassion for others who experience the death of a child and I learned to relate to this niche of people that only very few can relate to.
And I acted on it by serving other bereaved parents with my photography.

Now I am going through another boot camp.
It is called "blighted ovum". I thought I was 9 weeks pregnant
but there was no baby.. It has been a time of sadness and disappointment.
This 'pregnancy' happened at a time when we truly desired one more baby, but were not trying and even preventing it. So when it happened anyway, I really thought this was the final baby that God wanted to bless us with, in His own special way, miraculously. But that didn't turn out to be His plan. His plans were different than I thought.. Yet it was still His plan. I am struggling to understand though. In many ways, Kathleen's awful death seemed to make more sense.. But I am trying hard not to lean on my own understand and trust in God with all my heart (Pro 3:5) as I go through this boot camp. I still don't know what I am supposed to learn from this trial, and what I am supposed to do with it. Maybe what I am supposed to learn is more trust. And to really learn and grasp that the Lord determines our steps. "A man's step are directed by the Lord. How then can anyone understand his own way?" (Pro 20:24)
I hope and pray however that one day I will be able to look back and understand. That one day I can tell you what I learned from this, and what I did.
But for now I am still going through the boot camp, with a heart willing and open to learn, to be refined. "The crucible for silver and the furnace for gold, but the Lord tests the heart" (Pro 17:3).

I am thankful that I am in God's boot camp, and not wandering the wilderness, lost and alone. God is faithful, never leaving or forsaking us. "Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you." (Deuteronomy 31:6)

In the midst of the boot camp I am at peace. Sad but still at peace. And I am finding myself more grateful than ever for the many, many blessings God has granted me with. Maybe that's what this boot camp is all about: trust, peace and gratefulness.

overwhelmed with happiness

These days I feel overwhelmed with happiness.
There was a time I thought I could never feel happy again.
But even before that time, before Kathleen died,
I did not think such happiness as this was possible.
I am reading through 'A Grace Disguised' by Jerry Sittser
and I am starting to understand.
To understand how it is ever possible to experience such great loss,
and then such great happiness.
The book explains how our soul grows through loss.
That loss enlarges the soul.
And although we may feel more sorrow, and more compassion,
we are also able to feel a greater happiness.
It's not a happiness I feel because I am healed.
Some losses you are healed from, like you heal from a broken limb.
Other losses are like an amputation. You never heal.
But you learn to live with it, and to live abundantly.
And you learn to use your amputation for something good.
I once met a guy who was born without limbs,
just one little foot with one toe.
Although he was born with this loss,
I am sure he experienced loss and suffering growing up.
But now he travels the world and encourages people beyond words.
With his little foot he does everything:
types on the computer, answers the phone, swims.. everything!
It is amazing what we are capable of doing, in spite of our amputations.
Or maybe because of them.
My life still has sorrow, not just my own but also the sorrow of others.
My life has darkness, but in the darkness a light shines so much brighter.
And these days there is much light. Much happiness. Much joy.
And I start to understand the words of Jesus:
"Blessed are those who mourn, because they shall be comforted".
I am comforted, and I am blessed.. and I am happy.
Thank you Kathleen for enlarging my soul.

four roses

Recently someone very dear to me gave me four roses.
One rose for each of my children.
That may seem like such a simple thing, a simple gift.
To me it was not simple.
To me it was an invaluable gift -
one that touched me, comforted me, brought me joy.
You see, whenever someone remembers my little Kathleen,
whenever someone acknowledges her, mentions her name,
that is one of the greatest gifts you can ever give me.

As another bereaved mother puts it:
"The mention of my child's name might make me cry,
not mentioning my child's name will surely break my heart".

my special children

I have been thinking a lot about my children lately.
Thinking how each one is special.
Kaleb is my special firstborn -
the one who made me a mom,
who introduced me to the best job in the world,
who made me want more children when I used to want none.
Kaden is my special rainbow baby -
the rainbow at the end of a storm,
a baby conceived and born after the death of another child.
Kaitlin is my special gift -
the kind of gift I never expected in my life,
a gift that daily blesses my soul, touches my heart.

But then I think of Kathleen.
And I find no words to explain how special she is..
All I know is she is the one who changed me the most,
who impacted me the most.
She is simply just... my special baby.

God's love

Yesterday I attended a mother's group at my church.
We talked about God's love, His unconditional love.
Yet we often find ourselves trying to earn His love.
As we were talking about it, I realized something.
Somehow over these past three years my mindset has changed.
Somehow I am grasping the love of God better.
I know I used to serve God in hope that He might reward me.
Perhaps if I served Him more, did more,
He might bless me with more children.
No, it wasn't my only motivation but I realize it was part of it.
I WAS trying to earn God's love and His favor.
I served relentlessly, sometimes more than a full-time job.
And I was blessed with another pregnancy.
But it wasn't successful..
Then a year followed where I did not spend much time with God.
It was not that I didn't want to, I just couldn't.
Anytime I tried tears would flow and it just got too hard.
3 months after Kathleen passed I went to a women's conference.
I spend two days crying, non stop.
It was releasing but also exhausting.
And I was tired of having everyone see me cry.
No, somehow I just couldn't handle God's presence.
I still went to church every week.
I was there physically, but not emotionally.
I still read my bible and usually daily, but ONLY the psalms.
I hardly prayed. I didn't have words anyway..
I stepped back from volunteering as much.
I definitely wasn't deserving God's love.
But God was gracious, loving and patient.
Not condemning but only overbearing.
The following year I went back to the women's conference.
My main reason was just to get a weekend away with the girls.
I had no real expectations of an encounter with God.
Then one of the speakers told me the favor of God was upon me.
And it was. I was actually pregnant. I just didn't know it yet.
So in the midst of my hardest time with God, He blessed me.
He showed me unconditional love.
He doesn't do things because we deserve them.
Or withhold blessings because we don't deserve them.
He does everything in His timing. Because He loves us.
I know I haven't grasped His unconditional love fully.
How can we ever as human beings?
But I know now that I understand better.
I know my God better. I know His love better.
God's love.

weaker and stronger

Life as a bereaved mother has many paradoxes.
I believe this is one of them:
our loss makes us both weaker and stronger.
Stronger because you feel invincible -
if you can survive this, the death of a child,
you can survive anything.
But then there are days when you feel weaker.
Weaker because you are already filled with sadness
and little things seem to bring you over that edge.
Weaker because you easily saddened and burdened
for others who travel the same heartbreaking journey.
Or is that compassion?
I just know there are days I wish I wasn't this weak.
That I could go back to being ignorant and blind
to the suffering of parents all around the world.
And then there are days I am grateful God has opened my eyes
and opened my heart to these people.
That He has allowed me to be part of their journey,
part of their grief.
I feel honored and privileged.
And when I go to the hospital I feel strong.
It's a strength I know only God can give.
So my prayer is this:
God, may I be strong when strength is needed
God, may I be weak when weakness is needed.
And whether I am strong or I am weak
may I bring honor, glory and praise to You.



One day the weak shall dwell with the strong.

the month of March

As I approach and enter the month of March
I have a growing heaviness in my heart.
At first I am not quite aware of it.
Then I wonder why it's there, why I feel so sad,
why I cry so easily.
But then I remember it's March.
It's the month of my firstborn's birthday.
He will be five this year.
But it's also the month of Katleen's birthday, and passing.
She would have been three this year.
There is much to celebrate in March.
But it is also the month of sadness,
of remembering,
of wondering what could have been.
This year there will be three children around her cake.
I still wish it was four. That she was here.
That she could blow out her own candles.
That we would hear her laughter, see her smile,
watch her as she would open her gifts.
I miss her.
It's March again.

the world stops

Today a little baby girl joined my Kathleen in Heaven.
Today my world stops.
How can I go on doing life as normal on a day of such sadness?
How can I edit her pictures?
How can I work on my business website?
How can I look for hat patterns?
How can I do any of the things I had planned for today.
Because today is not another day.
Today is the day baby D died.
Today my world stops.

But I know it won't stop for long.
Tomorrow will be another day with things to do.

Tomorrow their world will still be stopped.
The world of baby D's parents.
And it will be stopped for a long time.

I remember when my world stopped.
I wish the whole world had stopped.
At least for a day, at least for a moment.
But it didn't..

And every day a baby dies. Every day a baby is born.
Every day there is sadness and there is joy.
We must mourn with those who mourn and
rejoice with those who rejoice.
I don't know how you do both, but I know God does
and He can show us how.

But today I mourn. Today my world has stopped.

slow motion

Yesterdays sermon was about hitting the pause button in a hectic life. It may sound strange as a mother of three children, two of them being babies, but I don't feel like my life is hectic and playing in fast forward. Contrary I actually feel like my life is finally in play mode again, after having been in slow motion for so long. After I lost Kathleen my days seemed endless and months felt like years. I think grief slows everything down as you watch life from inside your bubble. And then every month I waited and hoped that my womb would be filled with new life, that I would be restored. For a long time I felt that was all my life was filled with: grief and waiting, and then more grief. After thirteen months of waiting my prayers were finally answered and my little Kaden was conceived, but then came more waiting - waiting for him to arrive, and much of that waiting was spent on bed rest. Life for me continued to be in slow motion. The day he was born and was safe and sound in my arms was the day when my life entered play mode again. I still grieve my Kathleen, but I am no longer waiting, no longer living life in slow motion. How grateful I am for play mode, for being alive, feeling alive.

finding meaning

I think we all want to find meaning in life. A purpose for our being.

I feel as though I have led two different lives. Before Kathleen and after Kathleen. My first life was pretty comfortable, you may even call it normal. I would go for daily walks on the beach with my son. I attended mom's groups and hung out with other normal moms. My church ministry was multimedia which kept me rather busy. It was a different life. Not necessarily a wrong or meaningless life, just different.

Then Kathleen was born and it turned everything upside down. Her short life brought so much pain into mine that sometimes I wasn't sure how I was going to survive, and I wondered if the rest of my life would be a matter of surviving rather than living. I wondered how God could and would use all of this. I was no longer the same person and couldn't continue to do the same things. Of course I was still a mother and did the things a mother does. But there had to be more. There had to be something I could use this loss for, this pain. Something that would give it purpose, give it meaning. The things that had given my life meaning in the past, no longer cut it. The words of Ecclesiastes would go through my mind:
“Meaningless! Meaningless!”
says the Teacher.
“Utterly meaningless!
Everything is meaningless.”

After my loss I spent a lot of time online connecting with other bereaved mothers. I had no idea there were so many and it seemed the numbers were increased daily.. I found that this mutual support and encouragement through the journey of grief and also subsequent pregnancies were invaluable. But I had a burning desire to do more, something face to face. I just didn't know what. And so I waited, wondering. Wondering what I could possible contribute, how I could make a difference.

Two years later the doors opened and I became a volunteer photographer for forget-me-not, taking pictures of babies that have passed or will pass or may pass so that the families can have lasting memories. I found that there was something I could do for others and that my pain had meaning. I know it may seem strange to some that I find my meaning and purpose in other people's pain. But reality is that this kind of loss happens so very often, more often than we know or would like to think. I am brokenhearted for the families and wish things were different for them, but in the midst of the pain I feel alive. I am no longer just surviving, I am living. But if a while passes and I don't get a hospital call (maybe another photographer gets the call, maybe the family chooses not to have photos taken..) I start to get irritable, frustrated, restless. I don't expect you to understand but without the pain, without this ministry, my life feels meaningless.

But then I get a call and I know that my life has meaning. I believe our lives have meaning when we serve God, and I believe we serve God by serving people. As I go into the hospitals with my camera I know I am doing just that. I am serving, I am finding meaning - meaning for my life, and for Kathleen's short one.

Meaning.

I promise

Dear Kathleen

I promise I won't forget you.
I know I think of you less often. Each day the memory of you become more distant. The memory of holding you, seeing your perfect little face, perfect little fingers. The memory of you, being real. I have less time to think of you these days as I take care of your little brother and little sister. Less time to remember, to grieve. Maybe I also think of you less because I am happy. I hope you are happy for me. But please still forgive me. Forgive me for going on with life without you.

Sometimes when I hold your little sister I think of you. Wonder for the millionth time what you would have looked like. But mostly I think of her, enjoying her many smiles and little coos.

I think of you when I go to my monthly support group. It is my evening to remember you, focus on you. It is our evening. But I didn't go this month. Instead I went out on a date with your daddy. I felt guilty but I hope you looked down at us and just smiled.

I thought of you yesterday when I held a little nineteen week baby girl in my hands. As hard and as sad at those moments are, I also cherish them. Cherish them because they bring me back to you. I know most won't understand that. They won't understand why I want to hold onto something so painful, so devastating. But in the pain I feel close to you, my little beautiful girl, my little Kathleen.

So I may not think of you as often, but I promise I will never forget. And I am who I am because of you. I do the things I do because of you. In me you will always live on. That is your legacy.

I love you and I will always love you.
Your mommy.

an amazing gift

I have been granted an amazing gift, a little girl, a daughter.
She is all mine. Well, she will be when the adoption goes through.
But she was mine from the moment I held her, four days old.

A year ago it was hard to believe I would ever have more children.
Now I have three. Three to hold, love and see grow up.
And one in heaven, that I will never forget, always cherish.
God works in mysterious ways. In ways I never imagined.

"I am still confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord. Be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD". Psalm 27:13-14
This is the verse God gave me as a promise May 2009.
A promise I have meditated on many times,
wondering if and when it would come through.
It came through when I held Kaden in my arms.
But God's goodness did not stop there.
He knew my desire to have a little girl, and He granted it.

Kaitlin fills the hole in my heart that yearns for a little girl.
She will never fill the hole that yearns for Kathleen.

But above all, I have seen the goodness of the LORD,
in the land of the living.

healing

Occasionally people ask me if I am healing.
It is an understandable question but also puzzles me.
The answer depends on how you define healing.

If healing means no longer feeling an intense pain,
so intense you think you will literally die with the next breath
and death would be okay because it means you will be with Jesus and your baby,
then I am healed.

If healing means you can look at the pictures of your baby
without an overwhelming sadness,
then I am healed.

If healing means you no longer remember all the insensitive things that were said to you after your loss,
then I am healed.

If healing means that you can be at parties and celebrations without a constant urge to run away because you have nothing to celebrate and your smiles and laughs are all fake,
then I am healed.

If healing means that you can have fun with your other children, fully enjoy them, be silly and laugh,
then I am healed.

The list goes on.

But if healing means you don't think about your baby in Heaven every day, long for it and miss it,
then I am not healed - and I don't want to be.

If healing means that you don't feel the literal pain that other bereaved parents go through,
then I am not healed - and I don't want to be.

To answer the question..
I am as healed as I want to be.

more than we can handle

God does not give us more than we can handle.

I have heard that phrase numerous of times.
Our nurse was the first to say it,
while we held our dying Kathleen in our arms.
At the time it seemed comforting, a nice thing to believe.
Then the days went by, the weeks, the months.
My pain grew deeper and stronger and I started to wonder.
To wonder if this was really a promise of God.
So I opened up His book and came to find..
there is no such verse. No such promise.
But what He does promise us is strength when we are weak.
Rest when our burdens are heavy.
Peace when our hearts are troubled.
He promises us struggles in life, but a Heaven without tears.

So here is what I do believe..
God does in fact give us MORE than we can handle.
He allows it so we will rely on Him, not ourselves.
Rely on His strength, not our own.

As another blogger puts it:
My entire LIFE has been more than *I* could handle,
but I've yet to come across anything in my life
that has been too much for God to handle.

Or to paraphrase the phrase..
God doesn't give us what we can handle...
God helps us handle what we are given!

what if

What if Kathleen was still here?
What would our lives look like?
It's hard for me to imagine life with her.
Life that is less painful, less complicated, less stressful.
Life that is less challenging, and more comfortable.
Maybe even boring??

I thought of this today and realized how full my life is.
Full because she is not here!
Because of her I have met some most wonderful amazing people.
Because of her I am a better person, more compassionate.
Because of her I feel more, cry more and maybe even laugh more.
Because of her I feel fulfilled as I help others who too have lost.
Because of her I appreciate life and the miracle it truly, truly is.

As much as her absence hurts it has blessed and enriched my life in so many ways. I probably don't even see all the blessings yet. But slowly, slowly God is revealing them to me.

What if she was still here?
If she was here maybe Kaden wouldn't be.
So I hug my little boy and I thank Kathleen for her many gifts.

little girls

I admit it, I would love a little girl.

I don't know if it's because I lost one that I have this longing,
or if it's just a natural desire for any woman. After all,
most girls grew up wishing they had a real doll to dress in
pretty pink dresses and little hair bows.

Please don't get me wrong, I am SO grateful for my boys.
I adore them and would not trade them for anything in the world!
I don't want to trade them, I just want to add a girl to the family.

At times I think of adoption.
But is that forcing something that perhaps isn't meant to be?
Maybe I am destined to only have boys..
Or I could turn it around and say, maybe I don't have a girl
naturally because I am supposed to adopt one?
Please God, show me.

Sometimes I feel like I had my one chance and I blew it.

It hurts inside when I see little girls, particularly around the age of two. Each time it reminds me of what I have lost and what could have been. It makes me wonder what Kathleen would have looked like and what she would be doing at this stage. A year ago I wondered if she would be walking. Now she would be walking, and running. Maybe she would not be into pretty dresses and dolls, but cars and dirt - and that would be okay.
I just want my little girl.

My mom sent me a picture of her and my second cousin. She was so adorable. I wished with all of my heart that it was a picture of my mom and Kathleen. That I would have been able to give my mom a granddaughter.

Little girls are all around me.
They always leave a little sting of pain in my heart.
It's like a wound that just won't heal.
Like a scar tissue being stretched.
I am learning to live with it though. Or am I?

I want my two boys. I want my Kathleen. I want a little girl.
And that's the truth.

the small stuff

"Don't sweat the small stuff", we say.
But what is the small stuff? Isn't it all in the eye of the beholder,
a matter of perspective molded by life circumstances and
life experiences? A perspective that can change over time and over night?

Mine changed, once again, last night as I went to the hospital to take pictures of a little six month old girl. She was a SIDS case that had been resuscitated and was now brain dead. Suddenly everything becomes small stuff. I am reminded that as long as my family is healthy and alive, nothing else matters.

Does that mean that the fact that my husband is unemployed is insignificant? That after thirteen years of marriage we still don't have our own home? No, having a job and a home is important for our family and it is the best for our children. But I know God is our provider and we will be okay. We still have each other.

Does that mean I always feel privileged when Kaden wakes me up about six in the morning, pulls my hair while feeding, and cries when I put him down for a nap? Does it mean I feel grateful when I am scrubbing his pooh stained clothes? Absolutely not. But today I am.

I wish I always felt privileged, grateful and just happy that me and my husband and my boys are alive. But I don't. We all loose focus. We all need reminders of what's important in life. To not sweat the little stuff. Like the fact that my husband comes out of the store with children's tylenol instead of infant's tylenol even though I told him twice. Or that Kaleb spills grape juice all over his beige pants even though I told him to be careful. Or that getting the family together to celebrate my birthday seems like an almost impossible task. These were all things that frustrated me and upset me a few days ago. But today it is small stuff and I am grateful.

Sure it's okay to want things, like a job and a house, but I think there's a reason why the bible says: "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God." Philippians 4:6. We can bring all the small stuff before God and ask for His help and His blessings - all while we remember we have so much to be thankful for, that He has already given us SO much.

Thank you God that today we are alive and well.
And now my baby is crying..
Thank you God!

My beautiful Kaleb in the park.