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.