A New Thing

About a month ago, I had a doctor's appointment. Being back at the same hospital where I had Tyler got me thinking about some things again. I walked out of the building afterwards...the same doors where I left when I was discharged a year and a half ago... and those fears from the past crept in. What if I were to get pregnant again? Will it be a healthy pregnancy? Will I have a baby that actually lives with me this time? These thoughts ran through my mind as I walked across the parking lot.

Heavy-heartedly, I got into my car. I turned the radio on, and heard a verse being read on WGRC--

"Forget the former things;

do not dwell on the past.

See, I am doing a new thing!"

(Isaiah 43:18-19)

Oh, sweet peace in these words!

I don't usually hear things like this on a daily basis, but what great timing from my Heavenly Father to hear this when I did. Thank you, God, for that! It just confirmed the peace for me that I had already been feeling lately...that a new thing is about to happen.

"There will be a day with no more tears,

no more pain, no more fears..."

(sung by Jeremy Camp)

Another "First"

This past Sunday morning during church, I could tell Mike had something on his mind. He was a little more serious-faced than usual. I asked him if something was wrong. He hesitated, shrugged, then said he would tell me later. Now, girls, any of you out there know that we cannot let that go. But I wish I had.

He leaned over to me and said, "Your due date was April 5th, right?"

I nodded.

Then I got it.

He would have been one year old this weekend had the preterm labor never happened.

I'm usually the one pretty good with rememebering dates, but this time I didn't. I tried to blink back the tears. It wasn't working. I slipped out for a minute, then came back in. Thought that did the trick, but it did not.

Why fight the tears at this point? I think people get used to see me crying.

I get flashes sometimes of the "would have been." And right then, I saw Mike holding our dark-haired, cute little boy. But then I looked over and saw Mike sitting, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, looking so sad.

You know, I've always wanted to be a mommy. I was the junior high kid that volunteered to help in the nursery, because that's how much I have always loved babies. But even stronger than that desire, is my desire to see Mike get to be a Daddy. He wants that so bad. And it would fill my heart with so much joy to someday get to see that happen for him.

The first Sunday of every other month is an annointing service. For anyone who is not familiar with this, it is not a healing service type-thing you would see on t.v. Anyone is invited to go forward for emotional, spiritual, or physical healing. The pastor stands down below the stage, annoints you with oil, and says a prayer for you. I told him why we were there...for continued healing for our loss... for the wound that never goes away, and to be blessed again with another baby someday.

After all we have been through, there is still hope. We still hope for another baby that will be healthy and live with us. People ask us if we are interested in adopting. I value the gift of adoption, but for now, it is not for us.

So, back to Sunday. After the annointing, others were praying with us up front. It's always an emotional prayer for me. Good thing the annointing is toward the end of the service, because given my puffy, "gone-into-the-ugly-cry" face, I felt better just leaving church after that.
As we were walking out, I could hear the words being sung at that point from the service. Words from a song that is hard for me to sing at times, yet freeing and releasing for me to sing as well. Mike and I both commented later how it could not have fit the moment more for us--

"You give and take away.
You give and take away.
My heart will choose to say,
Blessed be the name."

He gives and takes away. Now, nowhere in that tune is there a line that says you'll know why he takes away. I think that's way that song is hard to hear. It simply just says He gives and takes away, that's all. After what we've been through, that song can almost make me picture an unloving God that yanks things away after he dangles them like a carrot. The song makes me remember the times right after his death when we wondered why God never saved him. Why he allowed it to happen. Sometimes we struggle in wondering if God thought we would be bad parents. Yes, we know that's not true, but it's an honest thought.

But the song also reminds me of other things I've dealt with and decided through all this. Faith in God is not conditional on my circumstance. It is not dependent on whether I have the "warm fuzzies" in my heart or not.

So, my heart does still choose to say it. Because when the heart isn't automatically feelin' the good vibes in the down times, you can still make the choice to say it. You can still make the choice to believe in more than your pain.

You can still make the choice to press on, and HOPE. You can still make the choice to BELIEVE.

Because God is not done with us yet.

Trust me, this is not the end of our story.

"Be confident in this, that He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it." Phil. 1:6

Coming Home Again

I will be very sad to say good-bye to my sister Missy on Wednesday morning. In fact, I'm trying to talk her into just knocking me out and putting me on a bus so we can skip the sadness. She's not okayed that plan yet...

But I will be so happy to see my awesome hubby Mike! Time and time again I am reminded just how thankful I am for him. He completely supported me as I took unpaid leave to spend the last couple months with my sister in Indiana. Not many husbands would be so unselfish to agree to that.

It seems like there are so many things that have happened in the past couple years with us that have definitely reminded me of how thankful I am for him. Turn up your volume and listen to this song. It's my song to him right now.

Some of the words...
"I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend
Lucky to have been where I have been
Lucky to be coming home again
I'm lucky we're in love in every way
Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed
Lucky to be coming home someday..."

I'll see ya Wednesday night, babes!! I LOVE YOU!!!

One Year: Happy Birthday, Baby Ty

It amazes me that this moment is here. Last year at this time, I was in extremely painful and progressed labor, then at exactly 12:13 am, our little baby Tyler Michael was born. Following his birth, we experienced the long-awaited pride of being Tyler's Mommy and Daddy. Then hit the indescribable low valley of losing a child... way too soon. At that point, we felt like time wasn't going to move on, and we were going to be in that pit of intense pain forever. We are so thankful that the joy of remembering our baby has slowly replaced that pain of knowing he's not with us. So today, I will share one of those memories that captures how we feel about our little man...

Mike read a little book to Tyler. His Aunt Melissa (my sister) gave it to him, and it's one of the best memories we have. I first attempted to read it, but I'm happy now that my tears didn't let it happen. It was a moment meant to happen between Tyler and his Daddy.

To Tyler~ We hope you felt our immeasurable love in every word of this story, in every touch, and in every word we ever spoke or whispered to you. We will love you forever, Baby Boy, our little "Nutbrown Hare."...
~Mommy and Daddy

"Guess How Much I Love You"

Little Nutbrown Hare, who was going to bed, held on tight to Big Nutbrown Hare's very long ears. He wanted to be sure that Big Nutbrown Hare was listening.

"Guess how much I love you," he said. "Oh, I don't think I could guess that," said Big Nutbrown Hare. "This much, said Little Nutbrown Hare, stretching out his arms as wide as they could go.

Big Nutbrown Hare had even longer arms. "But I love you this much," he said. Hmm, that is a lot, thought Little Nutbrown Hare. "I love you as high as I can reach," said Little Nutbrown Hare. "I love you as high as I can reach," said Big Nutbrown Hare. That is very high, thought Little Nutbrown Hare. I wish I had arms like that.

Then Little Nutbrown Hare had a good idea. He tumbled upside down and reached up the tree trunk with his feet. "I love you all the way up to my toes," he said. "And I love you all the way up to your toes," said Big Nutbrown Hare, swinging him up over his head.

"I love you as high as I can hop!" laughed Little Nutbrown Hare, bouncing up and down. "But I love you as high as I can hop," smiled Big Nutbrown Hare--and he hopped so high that his ears touched the branches above. That's good hopping, thought Little Nutbrown Hare.

I wish I could hop like that.

"I love you all the way down the lane as far as the river,"cried Little Nutbrown Hare. "I love you across the river and over the hills," said Big Nutbrown Hare. That's very far, thought Little Nutbrown Hare. He was almost too sleepy to think anymore. Then he looked beyond the thornbushes, out into the big dark night. Nothing could be further away than the sky.

"I love you right up to the moon," he said, and closed his eyes. "Oh, that's far," said Big Nutbrown Hare. "That is very, very far." Big Nutbrown Hare settled Little Nutbrown Hare into his bed of leaves. He leaned over him and kissed him good night. Then he lay down close by and whispered with a smile,

"I love you right up to the moon-- and back."

(If you would like to celebrate Tyler's birthday with us, please read the words of that story to your own child or someone you love. Squeeze them a little tighter and love them more than ever...)

Tonight...

Mike and I went back to the hospital where we had Tyler. We wanted to just deliver a couple Christmas cards and trays of cookies. It was one of those things that we wanted to do, but probably dreaded at the same time. We wanted to show appreciation for the MANY awesome and caring nurses we had in labor and delivery and in the NICU there. It seemed to bring back more memories for Mike than it did for me. I'm sure that's due to the fact that most of my memories were confined to the hospital room; whereas, Mike was out and about the hospital more during those days.

The nurses were appreciative, and it was random timing, so we weren't sure which nurses or doctors we would see. Unfortunately, we did not see our "faves." Still though, I'm glad we went. I feel like each little thing like that is a moment of healing for us.

I will tell more of his story of "Six Days" sometime soon. Right now, I'm directing my heart to my sister. Please keep her in your prayers.

My Sister

Please be in prayer about Missy's next oncology appt. It's this Thursday, and she will find out if the chemo is working or not. I would REALLY appreciate it!!!

The Days of December

Tyler's Ornament: Given December 2007

I can't believe so much time has gone by since I've written on this blog, and even more so, I can't believe that it is December already....and nearing the one year birthday and anniversary of the passing of my baby boy. In some ways it feels like it was yesterday, and it some ways it feels like a lifetime ago.

In losing a child, you don't just grieve the time you had together, you grieve all the moments that you'll never have. That's what makes grieving a lifelong process. There will always be moments when I think "Tyler would have been here."

I have really been okay with my friends' babies, and with holding them, and being sincerely happy for them. It's the random things that get me sometimes. Like walking through Old Navy and spotting that baby blue section that I used to browse. Or being in a grocery store and hearing a baby cry from 5 aisles away...the sound almost haunts me.

And now in December, it's the crisp cold air that brings his memories back even more. It's the twinkle of a Christmas light and the smell of our woodstove that bring back that ache in my heart and remind me of what I once had.

And in case you may wonder, with his anniversary approaching...you may feel at a loss for what to do. You can do or say whatever you're comfortable with...no one needs to feel like they need magic words for me. I'm okay with people talking to me about him. I'm always okay with that. I may not always be in the mood for a question though or a "how are you dealing with things." It's nothing personal...although I enjoy talking and sharing about him, sometimes questions force you to process something that a statement does not. I appreciate though any words of remembrance, thoughts or prayers that people have offered recently. It lets me know that he has not been forgotten...as that's my fear that he will be.

There has been so much on my heart and mind that I would like to write about on here. So many moments of healing, so many things I've learned, and so many moments that I've just missed my little boy. But mostly, it's the learning to let go of the pain, and instead holding on more tightly to the joy of the moments. It's been about the moving on from the "what-if's" and the "why's" and just letting the peace of God fill those spaces instead. It's been about me choosing to believe in the dark what I had always known in the light.

I have told a lot of his story on here, but I have yet to tell the story of "Six Days." It's taken me a while, but I'd like to give a bigger glimpse of our unforgettable time with him. I know all this may feel heavy to read, but it will be from my heart...and I don't know any other way to tell it.