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.

Kathleen's shelf

Kathleen has a shelf. Just a shelf. A shelf tugged away in our office. Nothing pretty. Just a 29 dollar book shelf from Walmart.

She has a single shelf. I wish she had a whole room. A room filled with pretty furniture, dolls, teddy bears and cute pink clothes. I wish that each day she would make a mess in her room like any child does, and that each night I would get the privilege of telling her to clean up. I know she has all she will ever need, could hope or dream for in Heaven. Yet I wish she was here with us. I wish I could buy her the whole world. Instead her clothes is packed away in a small suitcase and her belongings and memoirs sit on a shelf.

A brown bear that laid on her casket, two white teddy bears, and a little lamb that came with a poem.

The Shepherds Hand
Taken swiftly as the purest dove
into the the Shepherds open arms of love,
straight from this world of harm,
your beautiful face so full of calm.
One day in Heavens glory we will meet,
O for that day will be so sweet,
but until that time my dearest little lamb,
rest in the Shepherds loving hand.

On the shelf sits a pink stone heart. I wish I could remember who gave it to us.. Some memories seem to be lost in the blur, others are branded into my mind.

Like I remember clear as day leaving the hospital without a baby and instead with a memory box. No words can describe such devastation. The emptiness, the pain. This was not the way it was supposed to be, this was not right. I should be going home with a baby, not a box. A box that now sits on this shelf. Inside of it is a stack of cards. I wish they were cards congratulating us on a new little baby girl. Instead they are cards with titles such as "in deepest sympathy" and words such as: "We are given many precious gifts as we go through life. Some we are allowed to enjoy for a long time... others only briefly. But each gift has the power to change and enrich us, to make us better human beings". I know her brief life was a gift and I know many good things have come from it - yet I wish God would have used other ways to make me a better person and that she was still here. But as another card reads: "Nothing beautiful in this world is ever really lost... those we cherish will always live on in memory". So I look through the box and I remember my baby. I look at the pictures, the hand and footprints, the hospital bracelet, her certificate of birth, a card that says she was born on March 27th 2008 at 0259 weighing 210 grams and measuring 22 centimeters. I hold the little fleece blanket she was wrapped in and hope somehow it will smell like her, but any scent is far gone.. I don't need these things to remember her, yet they do make her more real. I look at these things and I know I didn't make her up, that she was not a figment of my imagination.

I look at the velvet bag that sits on top of the memory box. It contains a small urn with her ashes. We thought about spreading it out over the ocean not knowing where in the world we may end up, but God never allowed it to happen. So her remains are still with us and probably always will be. Wherever we go, she goes.. Her remains that is, because Kathleen's home is in now in Heaven. One day that too shall be our home and we shall see her again, but until then I cherish the few things we have, the memories of her.

Memories on a shelf.

giving thanks

These are thanks that are long due. Thanks I should have given the months following Kathleen's passing, but I was too consumed with grief, and then it never happened. It may be a boring blog to read, and the people I am giving thanks to may never read it, but it's a blog I need to write. If I forget any or don't mention you by name, please forgive me. Much of the first year is still a blur to me.

First of all, thanks be to God who put the right people in the right place at the right time, and who has carried us through the biggest storm of our lives. There were times when I wanted to give up, but I know He never gave up on me and continued to hold me and carry me and love me.

Thank you Orleine for watching Kaleb in the middle of the night as we rushed to the hospital.

Thank you to Athletee, the nurse who helped deliver Kathleen. You were a tremendous support and encouragement. You treated Kathleen with immense respect and care. I am forever grateful!

Thank you Christina for coming to see Kathleen. It touched me so much that you held her and spoke so beautifully to her. You will never know how much that meant to me.

Thank you Mark and Trent for visiting us at the hospital. Your support and presence was truly appreciated.

Thanks to all the people who sent us flowers, cards, text messages and who brought meals. It all meant a lot to us.

Thanks to those who contributed to paying for house cleaning. Thank you Rachel for arranging it.

Thank you so much Kelly for watching Kaleb numerous times, allowing us some time to ourselves where we could grieve and cry. Your continuous love and care was invaluable.

Thank you Jess for the cute little lamb and the beautiful poem.

Thank you pastor Steve! Your support, encouragement and prayers will never be forgotten. Thank you for arranging and leading such a beautiful funeral.

Thank you to the about 50 people who came to Kathleen's funeral. Your presence and support meant the world to us.

Thank you to Bells Beach Christian Church for paying for Kathleen's casket. We will never forget your generosity.

Thank you Elizabeth for hosting the reception and for everyone who contributed and helped make that happen.

Thank you Simone for being the most incredible friend during the hardest time of my life. You were always there for me, allowing me to pour my heart out, to be real. I treasured that so much. You were my haven. Thank you also for not forgetting her birthday, for the beautiful flowers.

Thank you Linda for your tremendous support, for being my mentor. Our talks about life and God meant so much to me.

Thank you Teresia for being an incredible friend. We have never met but our daughters passed on the same day and we will forever have a special bond.

Thanks to all my online friends. The mutual support has been and still is invaluable.

Thank you Emma, Pam and Kate for being so caring. It was hard for me to continue coming to playgroup but your presence made it easier.

Thank you Lisa for bringing me along to the Passion Conference. I know that it was God ordained and that I needed the encounter. I am very grateful to you.

Thank you Sarah for our coffees and chats together. Your friendship and encouragement meant a lot to me. You kept my faith strong.

Thank you Dawn for framing my daughter's quilt so beautifully. And thank you to the lady who made the quilt. I don't know you, but your gift is forever treasured.

Thank you Bec for the massage gift certificate. It was such a sweet and thoughtful gift.

Thank you to Carol, my counselor. My meetings with you were helpful beyond words. You allowed me to grieve, to feel what I felt for as long as I felt it. You taught me that grieving is the way to healing. Thank you for all your words of wisdom, about death, life and God.

Thank you to everyone from Empty Arms, my support group. How sad the circumstances that brought us together, how wonderful to be surrounded with people who understand. I appreciate everyone's friendship and continuous support.

Thank you to my husband, my best friend. I can never thank you enough for your love and care, for standing by me in the darkest of time. For loving me when I was far from lovable. I could not have asked or hoped for a better husband. Thank you!

Thank you to my son Kaleb. You did not grasp the tragedy, but you were always willing to give me a hug, or bring me a Kleenex. You made me smile.

Thanks to everyone who prayed for us.

Thank you!

The many candles lit at her funeral.