12.31.13
The Nanana had invited us over for New Year's Eve, and I was ecstatic. I was excited to not have to go out and be around a lot of people, and because The Nanana is seriously one of my absolute favorite people in the entire universe.
When she first invited us over, we were both excited. But after a few minutes, she said, "My granddaughter R will be over with us... Are you sure you will be okay with that?" I knew that R was around Presley's age, but I knew I could be blatantly honest with Kenney about how I wasn't really sure how I would feel about being around a toddler aged little girl. "I'm spending the weekend around my cousin's kids in Houston, so how about I text you after that and let you know how I did and what I think my limits are." Kenney graciously understood completely.
On Monday, after realizing how therapeutic it had been to be around Presley, Brenna, and Sir William, (I'm not sure why he gets a title and the other two don't, but let's just roll with it) I texted Kenney and let her know that we would definitely be coming over.
"Great! I'll make enchiladas!" was her reply.
We got to her house around 6:30, bringing some tamales I had bought from a college friend. Miss R opened the door, her dark brown hair pulled back in a messy pony tail. "HI!" she said with the enthusiasm of a three year old as they just meet a complete stranger.
"Well HI!" I said back, instantly falling totally in love with this precious little girl. She immediately grabbed my hand and drug me into the kitchen. "Nanana they're here!" Through the course of the night, I would see R's special room upstairs at Kenney's house, and she would request that she get to sit by me at the table when we ate dinner.
"The office wants me to write a book," Kenney told us that night. "Isn't that completely silly? They are sending a ghost writer out to follow me around and write down the things I say and all the experiences of being a mortician."
"Oh my gosh, that's amazing!" I said. "Take notes for me on the whole process... I think I may go down that road with the blog eventually."
We talked about everything and nothing all that night. We talked a little bit about Kaitlyn and all the things that I did and didn't remember from the hospital. Around midnight, we did the countdown to the new year and I ran to get my wallet.
"We have to wave a dollar because then you get rich in the new year!" I explained to them because all three of the adults were looking at me like I had lost it. "My family and I do this every year."
"Well hell," Kenney's husband said, bringing out at $10 bill. "Maybe this will make me extra rich."
They all humored me and we cheered in the new year. We stayed a little later than I expected and ended up leaving Kenney's house around 2 AM.
There were a lot of emotions in saying goodbye to 2013. I will always call that year my bittersweet year because it was just such a juxtaposition of emotions. Such joy, and such pain. Such life, and such death. All in a very short period of time. I was somewhat relieved to have the next year start just to say goodbye to the old one. I was sad to see how much time had passed since we had held sweet K-So. Always the two dualing emotions.
Kaitlyn
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Christmas Exchange
12.29.13
The next afternoon, my family was doing our traditional gift exchange at my grandparents house. Our group of about 20 people gathered out on the sunporch and laughed as we exchanged gifts.
Sam had gotten my Aunt Sondra as her person to buy a gift for (we use to do a white-elephant gift exchange, but this year we did a secret santa type exchange). I was sitting across the room behind my grandparens and beside Alex, and we all watched as Sondra ripped off the wrapping paper. My heart sank. The box was a Buy-Buy-Babybaby box with the pink, blue, yellow, and green pastels on it. I had a flashback to the last time I had been in Houston, which was for my baby shower, and I started to get upset. My mom was sitting on the other side of Sondra and caught my eye, and, being my mom, knew that I was about to lose it. She said, "Don't watch." and shook her head to try to help me focus on something else, but it was too late. Sondra had laughed when she saw the box and looked at Sam who replied, "We had a lot of those boxes around our house!" I quietly excused myself and went back into the house. I almost ran to one of the back rooms where my parents stayed and just started crying. I let myself be consumed with my complete misery of remembering the last time I had seen one of those boxes. I'm sure it had contained a really cute outfit or maybe a set of pacifiers for my soon-to-arrive baby girl. Maybe I had said something cute or witty before I opened it, making all the girls in my family laugh at me. Alex hadn't been home yet, but of course for most baby showers the Dad doesn't come unless its at the very end to help move the big items that were received.
I cried really hard in the back room of my grandparents' house. I knew there was no danger of anyone hearing me through the house and the chaos of Christmas, so I just let it out. I wailed. I still do that sometimes when I get overwhelmed. It just feels better to be vocally grieving instead of always trying to grieve in hushed voices.
After a few minutes, Alex came to find me. He does this thing where he gets on one knee and talks to me when I'm sitting on the edge of the bed. His stance is one of pure love, and it always puts our faces at the exact right height with each other.
"What happened?" he asked, not understanding what had caused me to leave the room. I started explaining how that seeing that silly box had affected me. "She didn't do it on purpose," he said (not that I had ever thought that Sam or anyone in my family would do something on purpose to make me sad). "You are going to get to have another chance to open presents with those boxes in them." He continued.
"I know, its just hard." I said. Alex gave me a big bear-hug like he usually does when there's nothing left to say, and then helped me get up and head back out to the group.
Later, I found out that Ash and Sam had both asked where I ran off to, thinking that I had probably just needed to use the bathroom or something. But I think my Aunt Sondra knew. She may not have realized it at that exact moment, but I think she totally understood and understands that sometimes, out of the blue, I still get overwhelmed by my grief. But throughout the months since Kaitlyn died, I have learned to be okay with that.
I'm not perfect, and God doesn't need me to be perfect. He just needs me to trust in His plan for reconciliation. He takes my brokenness, my sadness, and still turns it into a beautiful song.
The next afternoon, my family was doing our traditional gift exchange at my grandparents house. Our group of about 20 people gathered out on the sunporch and laughed as we exchanged gifts.
Sam had gotten my Aunt Sondra as her person to buy a gift for (we use to do a white-elephant gift exchange, but this year we did a secret santa type exchange). I was sitting across the room behind my grandparens and beside Alex, and we all watched as Sondra ripped off the wrapping paper. My heart sank. The box was a Buy-Buy-Babybaby box with the pink, blue, yellow, and green pastels on it. I had a flashback to the last time I had been in Houston, which was for my baby shower, and I started to get upset. My mom was sitting on the other side of Sondra and caught my eye, and, being my mom, knew that I was about to lose it. She said, "Don't watch." and shook her head to try to help me focus on something else, but it was too late. Sondra had laughed when she saw the box and looked at Sam who replied, "We had a lot of those boxes around our house!" I quietly excused myself and went back into the house. I almost ran to one of the back rooms where my parents stayed and just started crying. I let myself be consumed with my complete misery of remembering the last time I had seen one of those boxes. I'm sure it had contained a really cute outfit or maybe a set of pacifiers for my soon-to-arrive baby girl. Maybe I had said something cute or witty before I opened it, making all the girls in my family laugh at me. Alex hadn't been home yet, but of course for most baby showers the Dad doesn't come unless its at the very end to help move the big items that were received.
I cried really hard in the back room of my grandparents' house. I knew there was no danger of anyone hearing me through the house and the chaos of Christmas, so I just let it out. I wailed. I still do that sometimes when I get overwhelmed. It just feels better to be vocally grieving instead of always trying to grieve in hushed voices.
After a few minutes, Alex came to find me. He does this thing where he gets on one knee and talks to me when I'm sitting on the edge of the bed. His stance is one of pure love, and it always puts our faces at the exact right height with each other.
"What happened?" he asked, not understanding what had caused me to leave the room. I started explaining how that seeing that silly box had affected me. "She didn't do it on purpose," he said (not that I had ever thought that Sam or anyone in my family would do something on purpose to make me sad). "You are going to get to have another chance to open presents with those boxes in them." He continued.
"I know, its just hard." I said. Alex gave me a big bear-hug like he usually does when there's nothing left to say, and then helped me get up and head back out to the group.
Later, I found out that Ash and Sam had both asked where I ran off to, thinking that I had probably just needed to use the bathroom or something. But I think my Aunt Sondra knew. She may not have realized it at that exact moment, but I think she totally understood and understands that sometimes, out of the blue, I still get overwhelmed by my grief. But throughout the months since Kaitlyn died, I have learned to be okay with that.
I'm not perfect, and God doesn't need me to be perfect. He just needs me to trust in His plan for reconciliation. He takes my brokenness, my sadness, and still turns it into a beautiful song.
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Meeting Sir William
12.28.13
After jammie and coffee time, Alex swung by the house to pick me up to go get ready for the 80th birthday party. I started to get a little bit nervous about seeing everyone. My uncle, Ash and Sam's dad had stopped by grandma's house earlier that day, and everyone kept telling me that Ash had been asking when we were going to get there because she was anxious to see me. I kept asking if Sam and her husband and Sir William were going to be there, but everyone kept evading me. They kept telling me that William hadn't had all his shots so they weren't sure if Sam wanted to bring him and let him be around a lot of people. I wasn't really sure if people were telling me the truth or not, but I just let it be.
That afternoon, I went over to the restaurant with a couple of the women in our family to help set up the room for the party. My second cousin has a bakery, so her family brought a beautiful cake to celebrate. It was the first time I had seen this part of the family, so I obviously got a lot of hugs and a lot of "I'm glad to see you"s and "So sorry to hear about Kaitlyn"s. One thing I forgot about (forgive me, John!) is that my second cousin had ALSO had a baby boy in July. John and his wife had a little boy named Luke and the three of them showed up as we were setting up the room. The pit of my stomach dropped out when I saw him, but he was wearing this adorable little hat and he has what our family likes to call "Montgomery ears" where they stick out just a little bit. When Ash had Presley, the very first picture I ever saw of Presley I said, "Oh my gosh she has Ash's ears", and those are the famous Montgomery ears.
Then Ash arrived with Presley and Brenna. I was, again, a little nervous about seeing Brenna because the last time I had seen her was at the house after Kaitlyn's memorial service. I remember that Brenna had been a little fussy and started crying and I had to leave the room because I needed to cry myself and also because I didn't want to have a physical reaction to the sound of a baby crying. But when Brenna got there, I was beside myself with joy. Oh my gosh I wanted to hold her. So, I did. I think she weighs about 15 pounds now, and she is the sweetest little girl. And she looks absolutely nothing like Kaitlyn. She looks like her dad, who has strawberry blonde/red hair. Presley looks like Ash to me and Brenna looks like her dad. I held her, and we walked around the area and looked at the Christmas lights. Brenna played with my necklace that I had on, and this moment was incredibly, incredibly therapeutic for me. I had talked to Kate pretty extensively the past Monday about going to Houston and seeing all the family babies, and she told me to just live in the moment and if I felt like loving on a baby to love on a baby and if not, my family would understand (understatement of the year). I was so glad that I went to Houston, and that I had taken Kate's advice because I loved every minute of holding Brenna.
Sam's family of three still hadn't shown up, so I asked Ash again if Sam was going to make it. She said she honestly didn't know. I am still not convinced this wasn't a plan to see how I reacted to the other kiddos first before they subjected me to meeting William for the first time (have I mentioned I have the best family in the world for caring about me so much?)
As we all sat down and settled in to dinner, Sam and her hubs showed up. Sam had William in a baby wearer on her chest, and I have to tell you that in the first instant William's hair looked really dar. Like black. Like Kaitlyn's hair black. And about as long. I sat frozen in my seat with my stomach clinching and said to myself, "I can't do this. He looks like Kaitlyn. He looks like Kaitlyn." And about that time I noticed that Alex had leapt out of his seat to go and greet Sam and her husband.
I think I lived about six-hundred emotions all in the span of three seconds. I was so nervous and sick about William looking like Kaitlyn. I felt a little betrayed that Alex had left me so quickly to greet them. I felt sad that I wasn't baby-wearing Kaitlyn. And then, I was happy. I was happy for Sam. I was glad that this wasn't her story.
And then I wanted to touch him. I like really really wanted to touch him. So I got up from my seat and went over to hug Sam hello. I'm pretty sure we nearly crushed Sir William in his baby sling, but when we pulled away I realized something. His hair wasn't like K's at all. It was lighter, more like Sam's dirty blonde hair. And he smelled like a baby should. There was complete and utter joy. I didn't cry, but I just stood there for a minute and played with his hair, barely an inch and a half long. It was so soft, just like Kaitlyn's. His head could be cupped in my hand, just like Kaitlyn's. But his eyes were lighter, maybe hazel. And his hair was so blonde I wondered how I had seen it as dark as I had initially, but I guess it was a trick of the light. I was overjoyed to just run my fingers through his hair.
Sam, bless her heart, just let me. She let me stand there (probably a little awkwardly) and go through all of the emotions that I needed to, and I love her for it.
When I see William, I don't see Kaitlyn. I know its still really early in my grief for me to say this, but I don't think that every time I see William it will make me depressed because we lost Kaitlyn. I think instead it will remind me of what an amazing gift babies really are. Every single life should be celebrated from conception until death, and William's life is such a blessing and a miracle. His birthdays will probably remind me of how old Kaitlyn would have been, but I also know that those birthdays were never part of her story. And I will rejoice with my cousin because they are part of William's.
After jammie and coffee time, Alex swung by the house to pick me up to go get ready for the 80th birthday party. I started to get a little bit nervous about seeing everyone. My uncle, Ash and Sam's dad had stopped by grandma's house earlier that day, and everyone kept telling me that Ash had been asking when we were going to get there because she was anxious to see me. I kept asking if Sam and her husband and Sir William were going to be there, but everyone kept evading me. They kept telling me that William hadn't had all his shots so they weren't sure if Sam wanted to bring him and let him be around a lot of people. I wasn't really sure if people were telling me the truth or not, but I just let it be.
That afternoon, I went over to the restaurant with a couple of the women in our family to help set up the room for the party. My second cousin has a bakery, so her family brought a beautiful cake to celebrate. It was the first time I had seen this part of the family, so I obviously got a lot of hugs and a lot of "I'm glad to see you"s and "So sorry to hear about Kaitlyn"s. One thing I forgot about (forgive me, John!) is that my second cousin had ALSO had a baby boy in July. John and his wife had a little boy named Luke and the three of them showed up as we were setting up the room. The pit of my stomach dropped out when I saw him, but he was wearing this adorable little hat and he has what our family likes to call "Montgomery ears" where they stick out just a little bit. When Ash had Presley, the very first picture I ever saw of Presley I said, "Oh my gosh she has Ash's ears", and those are the famous Montgomery ears.
Then Ash arrived with Presley and Brenna. I was, again, a little nervous about seeing Brenna because the last time I had seen her was at the house after Kaitlyn's memorial service. I remember that Brenna had been a little fussy and started crying and I had to leave the room because I needed to cry myself and also because I didn't want to have a physical reaction to the sound of a baby crying. But when Brenna got there, I was beside myself with joy. Oh my gosh I wanted to hold her. So, I did. I think she weighs about 15 pounds now, and she is the sweetest little girl. And she looks absolutely nothing like Kaitlyn. She looks like her dad, who has strawberry blonde/red hair. Presley looks like Ash to me and Brenna looks like her dad. I held her, and we walked around the area and looked at the Christmas lights. Brenna played with my necklace that I had on, and this moment was incredibly, incredibly therapeutic for me. I had talked to Kate pretty extensively the past Monday about going to Houston and seeing all the family babies, and she told me to just live in the moment and if I felt like loving on a baby to love on a baby and if not, my family would understand (understatement of the year). I was so glad that I went to Houston, and that I had taken Kate's advice because I loved every minute of holding Brenna.
Sam's family of three still hadn't shown up, so I asked Ash again if Sam was going to make it. She said she honestly didn't know. I am still not convinced this wasn't a plan to see how I reacted to the other kiddos first before they subjected me to meeting William for the first time (have I mentioned I have the best family in the world for caring about me so much?)
As we all sat down and settled in to dinner, Sam and her hubs showed up. Sam had William in a baby wearer on her chest, and I have to tell you that in the first instant William's hair looked really dar. Like black. Like Kaitlyn's hair black. And about as long. I sat frozen in my seat with my stomach clinching and said to myself, "I can't do this. He looks like Kaitlyn. He looks like Kaitlyn." And about that time I noticed that Alex had leapt out of his seat to go and greet Sam and her husband.
I think I lived about six-hundred emotions all in the span of three seconds. I was so nervous and sick about William looking like Kaitlyn. I felt a little betrayed that Alex had left me so quickly to greet them. I felt sad that I wasn't baby-wearing Kaitlyn. And then, I was happy. I was happy for Sam. I was glad that this wasn't her story.
And then I wanted to touch him. I like really really wanted to touch him. So I got up from my seat and went over to hug Sam hello. I'm pretty sure we nearly crushed Sir William in his baby sling, but when we pulled away I realized something. His hair wasn't like K's at all. It was lighter, more like Sam's dirty blonde hair. And he smelled like a baby should. There was complete and utter joy. I didn't cry, but I just stood there for a minute and played with his hair, barely an inch and a half long. It was so soft, just like Kaitlyn's. His head could be cupped in my hand, just like Kaitlyn's. But his eyes were lighter, maybe hazel. And his hair was so blonde I wondered how I had seen it as dark as I had initially, but I guess it was a trick of the light. I was overjoyed to just run my fingers through his hair.
Sam, bless her heart, just let me. She let me stand there (probably a little awkwardly) and go through all of the emotions that I needed to, and I love her for it.
When I see William, I don't see Kaitlyn. I know its still really early in my grief for me to say this, but I don't think that every time I see William it will make me depressed because we lost Kaitlyn. I think instead it will remind me of what an amazing gift babies really are. Every single life should be celebrated from conception until death, and William's life is such a blessing and a miracle. His birthdays will probably remind me of how old Kaitlyn would have been, but I also know that those birthdays were never part of her story. And I will rejoice with my cousin because they are part of William's.
PJ's and coffee
12.28.13
On Saturday morning, Alex dropped me off at my grandparent's house for coffee and chit chat while I was still in my PJ's. I bought these pink plaid pajamas for Christmas for myself and rightfully called them my "Christmas Jammies", Alex said they make me look like a grandma. Neat.
Anyways, my Mom and Dad had stayed the night at my grandparent's house like we usually would, and my Mom had texted me that she was up sitting on the sunporch waiting for me to get there. Not long after I got there, my grandma got up and came out to sit with us.
"Ames, you have a real talent for writing," she said. "The way you tell stories engages people. And I'm really, really proud of you for being open about your experience with Kaitlyn to share with other people what God can do with a horrible situation."
We started talking about religion and sharing Christ with others. Since I can remember, my grandma has emphasized that our actions show Christ's love more than our words. One of the coolest stories she has ever told me is that one of her dear friends from early in life called her 20 or 30 years later and told her that she had become a Christian because of my grandma's example in her early years. That's a pretty awesome testimony.
We talked some about theology, and that's when my grandma said something really profound. She said to me, "Ames (she always calls me that), Satan can't take your salvation away, but he can take your testimony."
Satan can't take away our salvation, but he can take away our testimony.
That took a few minutes to sink in. Of course, we talked about that for a little while after she said it, but what she was saying is that no matter how distant we become from God after becoming a believer in Christ, we are always saved. Once those sincere words are spoken from our lips, we become part of the body of Christ and can never be removed. BUT there are still choices to be made. We can chose to draw close to God, giving him complete rule and say over our lives and letting Him use us to show His glory, or we can chose to be distant, never fully engaging in the perfect plan He has laid out for us. If we are a "distant" Christian, we are letting Satan take away our testimony. We are missing out on the awesomeness that is a personal relationship with God through Christ Jesus and The Holy Spirit. We miss out on feeling the power of God moving through our lives, we miss out on having our eyes opened to see His love for us in all the details of our lives, and we miss out on fulfilling our true destiny on this earth.
My other grandma
12.28.13
My Grandma on my Mom's side turned 80 on the 19th of December, 2013. It was quite an accomplishment considering that exactly 10 years earlier, she had been diagnosed with a brain tumor in her frontal lobe the size of a tennis ball and they told her going into the surgery that she may not make it off the table. This all happened my freshman year at college, and I was a complete wreck.
My Grandma is one of those people who can live (literally) across the state and make you feel like you are the most important person in the world. My Mom is the oldest of her four kids, and she is the only one that doesn't live within about 30 minutes of my grandparents. When I was growing up, my grandparents had to put in more effort to be a part of my life because we didn't see each other once a week at church or get picked up randomly to go shopping at Walgreens (that was a big deal back then). But somehow, my Grandma was able to be closer to me than my grandmother that lived in the same town.
To say she had a big influence on my life would be an understatement. She continually encouraged me to be who I truly was, without worrying about how others saw me. Because of her, I started playing the piano when I was in Kindergarden and continued for 9 years until I switched over to playing the flute and piccolo, which I played all the way through college band. Because of her influence on my mom, and my mom's influence on me, I was a self-motivated student and graduated high in my class (though not top 10% because I got a C in spanish freshman year- ironic that I am now married to someone who speaks fluent Spanish). I continued on an finished a degree in Biomedical Engineering through The University of Texas at Austin, having my grandparents cheer me on the entire way. (Does that surprise you? I am not a writer in any way- I like numbers...)
My Grandma was an Oboist in high school and was awarded a scholarship to Sam Houston State University. However, it was the 1950s and she met my granddad and decided to forgo going to college to get married instead. Enter my mom about 2 years after they got married.
If you know anything about neurology or psychology, the frontal lobe is where most of your personality resides. The firing of those neurons determine what your outlook on life is as well as how you respond to situations. When my Grandma was diagnosed, there was somewhat of a sigh of relief in my family because we had seen changes in her personality prior to the diagnosis. She became mean, easily agitated, and very hard to reason with. The night before her surgery, she was staying in a hotel across the street from the hospital. I was still in Austin at the time, but I heard the story retold through my family members that were present. The night before, my Grandma was terrified. As we all would be knowing that someone was going to cut open your head and you may or may not wake up. She kept saying that she didn't want to do the surgery and that she had changed her mind, being okay with not fighting the cancer. Enter my uncle, the same uncle that prayed at the beginning of Kaitlyn's memorial service. He got down on one knee in front of his mother and told her, "This is not you. You have taught us all to be brave and to fight for our lives and for the lives of others. Tonight, we can cry and have a pity party and say why you, but tomorrow morning we are going to walk into that surgery suite with the courage and bravery we all know you have in Christ."
And that's exactly what she did. She had an extremely successful surgery where they got clean margins when they removed the tumor. Over the next 10 years, her moods would fluctuate as they titrated out her medications (those things are no joke) but for the most part my Grandma was relatively close to her old self.
My Grandma decided that she was going to throw a big party for herself for her 80th birthday. She was beyond excited, not unlike a little girl getting ready to turn 16. She printed up invitations and hand-wrote them to all of her family and friends, including even her dentist. She called me a few times wanting to know if Alex and I would be able to come, and at the time we just didn't know how we were going to feel about it. The biggest thing I was worried about was being around Sir William because I had no idea how I would react to him. I hadn't been around any babies yet, and I worried that I would just have a complete come-apart and traumatize everyone in the room by just sobbing over his little body while I ached for my own daughter.
I talked to Kate about this extensively. "Give yourself grace," she repeated for about the thousandth time. "But at the same time, don't exclude anything. I thought I wouldn't be able to hold another baby after Piper, but I found it to be really therapeutic. My husband, on the other hand, did not hold another child until it was our own. Everyone grieves differently, and you need to allow yourself to live in the moment and experience what God has planned for you. And don't commit to going or not going. You can decide the day of the party if you want to go, and even if you get there and decide its too much, you can leave." Kate always makes things so simple and I adore her for it.
Friday night, Alex and I boarded the plane to got to Houston where my family lives. I have to admit, I was also a little nervous about seeing the adults in my family because I hadn't seen them since the memorial service. I was excited and terrified all at the same time.
My parents came and picked us up from the airport and we headed over to my grandparents house. It was only the 6 of us at the time, and I can tell you it was a great relief to get to see just my grandparents first. We got in late, so everyone else was home with their kiddos. We sat and talked for a little while, about nothing really, and then we made plans for the morning. Alex is crazy into cross fit, so he had already scoured the area and found a gym he wanted to visit on Saturday morning. I told my grandparents I would be back around 8:30 in my pajamas for coffee and chitchat. My parents had been generous and understanding enough to get Alex and I a room at a nearby hotel so that we had a "safe zone" to go to if we got overwhelmed. We hugged everyone goodnight, and headed to the hotel at nearly midnight to crash.
My Grandma on my Mom's side turned 80 on the 19th of December, 2013. It was quite an accomplishment considering that exactly 10 years earlier, she had been diagnosed with a brain tumor in her frontal lobe the size of a tennis ball and they told her going into the surgery that she may not make it off the table. This all happened my freshman year at college, and I was a complete wreck.
My Grandma is one of those people who can live (literally) across the state and make you feel like you are the most important person in the world. My Mom is the oldest of her four kids, and she is the only one that doesn't live within about 30 minutes of my grandparents. When I was growing up, my grandparents had to put in more effort to be a part of my life because we didn't see each other once a week at church or get picked up randomly to go shopping at Walgreens (that was a big deal back then). But somehow, my Grandma was able to be closer to me than my grandmother that lived in the same town.
To say she had a big influence on my life would be an understatement. She continually encouraged me to be who I truly was, without worrying about how others saw me. Because of her, I started playing the piano when I was in Kindergarden and continued for 9 years until I switched over to playing the flute and piccolo, which I played all the way through college band. Because of her influence on my mom, and my mom's influence on me, I was a self-motivated student and graduated high in my class (though not top 10% because I got a C in spanish freshman year- ironic that I am now married to someone who speaks fluent Spanish). I continued on an finished a degree in Biomedical Engineering through The University of Texas at Austin, having my grandparents cheer me on the entire way. (Does that surprise you? I am not a writer in any way- I like numbers...)
My Grandma was an Oboist in high school and was awarded a scholarship to Sam Houston State University. However, it was the 1950s and she met my granddad and decided to forgo going to college to get married instead. Enter my mom about 2 years after they got married.
If you know anything about neurology or psychology, the frontal lobe is where most of your personality resides. The firing of those neurons determine what your outlook on life is as well as how you respond to situations. When my Grandma was diagnosed, there was somewhat of a sigh of relief in my family because we had seen changes in her personality prior to the diagnosis. She became mean, easily agitated, and very hard to reason with. The night before her surgery, she was staying in a hotel across the street from the hospital. I was still in Austin at the time, but I heard the story retold through my family members that were present. The night before, my Grandma was terrified. As we all would be knowing that someone was going to cut open your head and you may or may not wake up. She kept saying that she didn't want to do the surgery and that she had changed her mind, being okay with not fighting the cancer. Enter my uncle, the same uncle that prayed at the beginning of Kaitlyn's memorial service. He got down on one knee in front of his mother and told her, "This is not you. You have taught us all to be brave and to fight for our lives and for the lives of others. Tonight, we can cry and have a pity party and say why you, but tomorrow morning we are going to walk into that surgery suite with the courage and bravery we all know you have in Christ."
And that's exactly what she did. She had an extremely successful surgery where they got clean margins when they removed the tumor. Over the next 10 years, her moods would fluctuate as they titrated out her medications (those things are no joke) but for the most part my Grandma was relatively close to her old self.
My Grandma decided that she was going to throw a big party for herself for her 80th birthday. She was beyond excited, not unlike a little girl getting ready to turn 16. She printed up invitations and hand-wrote them to all of her family and friends, including even her dentist. She called me a few times wanting to know if Alex and I would be able to come, and at the time we just didn't know how we were going to feel about it. The biggest thing I was worried about was being around Sir William because I had no idea how I would react to him. I hadn't been around any babies yet, and I worried that I would just have a complete come-apart and traumatize everyone in the room by just sobbing over his little body while I ached for my own daughter.
I talked to Kate about this extensively. "Give yourself grace," she repeated for about the thousandth time. "But at the same time, don't exclude anything. I thought I wouldn't be able to hold another baby after Piper, but I found it to be really therapeutic. My husband, on the other hand, did not hold another child until it was our own. Everyone grieves differently, and you need to allow yourself to live in the moment and experience what God has planned for you. And don't commit to going or not going. You can decide the day of the party if you want to go, and even if you get there and decide its too much, you can leave." Kate always makes things so simple and I adore her for it.
Friday night, Alex and I boarded the plane to got to Houston where my family lives. I have to admit, I was also a little nervous about seeing the adults in my family because I hadn't seen them since the memorial service. I was excited and terrified all at the same time.
My parents came and picked us up from the airport and we headed over to my grandparents house. It was only the 6 of us at the time, and I can tell you it was a great relief to get to see just my grandparents first. We got in late, so everyone else was home with their kiddos. We sat and talked for a little while, about nothing really, and then we made plans for the morning. Alex is crazy into cross fit, so he had already scoured the area and found a gym he wanted to visit on Saturday morning. I told my grandparents I would be back around 8:30 in my pajamas for coffee and chitchat. My parents had been generous and understanding enough to get Alex and I a room at a nearby hotel so that we had a "safe zone" to go to if we got overwhelmed. We hugged everyone goodnight, and headed to the hotel at nearly midnight to crash.
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Our Christmas Card
12.25.13
I love Christmas cards. LOVE THEM. Our mantle is filled with smiling faces of everyone we have come to know and love from across the years. People that are only friends-of-friends that we have never met face to face have sent us Christmas cards.
I had plans for a family Christmas card. It would be something adorable that the girl who we had picked to do our newborn pictures would do. This sweet being's name is Lindsey, and she was such an amazing friend through our deployment! Alex found her pictures online and fell in love with some of the poses she did with newborns, so we started a conversation with her. She told us that there is a program called Operation Attachment where photographers donate their time to serve the families of military members who are deployed. They offer a free session as long as your loved one is deployed, so we weren't sure if we would qualify because we were sincerely hoping that Alex would be home before then and disqualify us!
Anyways, when Kaitlyn passed, Alex had the state of mind to email Lindsey and tell her what happened. Her immediate response was to tell us about Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep. Even though we had already contacted NILMDTS through the hospital, that just tells you so much about Lindsey's heart and character. She is constantly looking to serve others.
I had contacted Lindsey about still doing some Christmas cards for us because I wanted them to use for Christmas cards. But I didn't know what the heck they would look like. I started combing the internet for pictures of couples that didn't have them both smiling cheerfully at the camera. That just felt fake; everyone we were sending cards to knew we wouldn't be smiling and cheerful this Christmas.
Finally we found the perfect one.... and the perfect verse to go along with it.
I love Christmas cards. LOVE THEM. Our mantle is filled with smiling faces of everyone we have come to know and love from across the years. People that are only friends-of-friends that we have never met face to face have sent us Christmas cards.
I had plans for a family Christmas card. It would be something adorable that the girl who we had picked to do our newborn pictures would do. This sweet being's name is Lindsey, and she was such an amazing friend through our deployment! Alex found her pictures online and fell in love with some of the poses she did with newborns, so we started a conversation with her. She told us that there is a program called Operation Attachment where photographers donate their time to serve the families of military members who are deployed. They offer a free session as long as your loved one is deployed, so we weren't sure if we would qualify because we were sincerely hoping that Alex would be home before then and disqualify us!
Anyways, when Kaitlyn passed, Alex had the state of mind to email Lindsey and tell her what happened. Her immediate response was to tell us about Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep. Even though we had already contacted NILMDTS through the hospital, that just tells you so much about Lindsey's heart and character. She is constantly looking to serve others.
I had contacted Lindsey about still doing some Christmas cards for us because I wanted them to use for Christmas cards. But I didn't know what the heck they would look like. I started combing the internet for pictures of couples that didn't have them both smiling cheerfully at the camera. That just felt fake; everyone we were sending cards to knew we wouldn't be smiling and cheerful this Christmas.
Finally we found the perfect one.... and the perfect verse to go along with it.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Christmas Eve
12.24.13
Christmas Eve. So many emotions associated with this season. So many hopes and dreams with Kaitlyn.
Things happened that morning and we decided to go to a service at Hope that we weren't originally planning to go to. Chad and Jenny joined us, and one more friend joined as well. The five of us sat in the row and listened to them retell the story of the Christ child. Of the birth of Jesus.
Of the baby in a manger.
There were so many references to babies and mothers and Mary holding Jesus in her arms before the shepherds. It was... Bittersweet. Here, in this simple story that everyone retells at Christmas, was my agony and my restoration. Remembering that I was without my daughter, but also remembering that I would be reunited with her because of this baby that was born in the middle of the night in a manger. There were too many images and memories flashing around my mind as we listened and worshipped.
I remember thinking about the advent calendar I had been participating in through a website called "She Reads Truth" and I remember thinking that this was just my personal advent. I feel like I have always been in a state of "wait". I have been waiting for Alex to come home from deployments, waiting to change jobs, waiting to get pregnant, waiting for Alex to leave, waiting for sonograms, waiting for Alex to return, waiting for Kaitlyn, waiting for the pain to stop, waiting for Christmas, waiting for the right time to try again, waiting for restoration. John talked about how God yearned so much to be reunited with His creation, but that even He waited until the right time to bring Jesus to earth. The perfect answer and solution to every human failure.
I cried at the service that night. It was just too much to see the beauty and pain and be reminded of our own. Alex put his arm around me as I let the tears run down my cheeks (I never hide my tears in church, I'm just too proud).
We know that we will be reunited with Kaitlyn eventually. We know that that little girl is going to impact people for years to come, we have already seen glimpses of that. We know that God is good and that His plan for us is good, He promises us that. So for now, we hope. We hope for our next child to arrive safely. We hope that we can be lights in this dark world for others in desperate situations. We hope these things because we trust God. We know at the end of the day, the story of the Christ child is neither the beginning or the ending of God's story: He is the twist in the middle of the plot that keeps us going. He was the answer to the question that had been lingering, waiting for centuries. He was the promise for the future generations of a genuine, personal relationship with God.
Monday, December 23, 2013
Maybe that wasn't for me after all...
12.23.13
On Monday, I had another counseling session with Kate. I plopped down on her couch and said, "I did a lot of work on myself this week."
"You did? Tell me about it." She replied back, crossing her legs in the office chair she always sits in when we talk.
I told her about it: I told her about getting really angry with the nurse who thought her life was hard. I told her about going to our hometown and being honored by strangers. I told her about thinking about talking to my grandma about Kaitlyn but hesitating.
"WHEW! Sister! Are you exhausted?" She asked when I finished talking. I totally was. I turns out grieving even in really good ways will completely wipe me out. I feel like I could sleep for 10 hours or so.
As we started to close our session, I felt that feeling come over me again. The one where God is bringing something to the forefront of my mind to talk to someone about. I was thinking about the Treasure You application and I thought I wanted to tell Kate about it because she would have some good, sound, Biblical advice about it. But I also need to confess that I was feeling really self-conscious about telling her. I thought she would say to me, "Oh doll, you're nowhere near ready to do that yet." or "Are you sure you're up for that?" The selfish side of me really didn't want to tell her. I mean, I just felt really conflicted. And part of me worried that Kate would win it over me. I'm not trying to be silly, I'm just saying that she's two years outside of her loss and she's a professional counselor, for pete's sake. Surely she would have better things to say than me.
I resisted telling her. I sat there and tried to shoo the feeling away. Finally I looked at the ceiling and said, "Okay FINE I'll tell her." Kate kind of cocked her head at me and I looked at her and started telling her about the conference. After I was done, she said, "Maybe you were suppose to tell me about that. Because I just got that feeling, too, like this is important. And something you didn't know is that this weekend I felt God telling me to get ready because I am going to start speaking somewhere, in some way. I don't know what that looks like yet, but maybe this is it. Thank you for telling me."
I had a complete mixed reaction between relief and envy. I mean, she's obviously much better qualified than me to have that kind of attention, but at the same time I wanted to be the one to share the story. Our stories are similar but different, but I still wanted to be the one with the opportunity to remember and share.
If you ever meet me personally, know that sometimes I have verbal diarrhea. I tend to say whatever comes into my head sometimes. One of my friends says Jennifer Lawrence reminds her of me because she does the exact same thing. It happens the most when I'm comfortable in a situation with people that I don't mind being not the best version of myself.
This was a prime example. "Oh okay. Well maybe that was it. But I have to tell you I"ll be really jealous if you get it but then again if God doesn't want me to have it and it was meant for you then that's okay but I"m still going to be really jealous but that's okay. And you'll have to get Robin Roberts' signature for me because I really like her." Yeah just run that sentence together and you'll get about where I was. I was immediately embarrassed, but thankfully this conversation happened at the end of the session.
We decided that we wouldn't meet for the next two weeks because of the two holidays that were coming up. I was grateful because I needed time to recover from my embarrassment and my not-well-hidden envy.
On Monday, I had another counseling session with Kate. I plopped down on her couch and said, "I did a lot of work on myself this week."
"You did? Tell me about it." She replied back, crossing her legs in the office chair she always sits in when we talk.
I told her about it: I told her about getting really angry with the nurse who thought her life was hard. I told her about going to our hometown and being honored by strangers. I told her about thinking about talking to my grandma about Kaitlyn but hesitating.
"WHEW! Sister! Are you exhausted?" She asked when I finished talking. I totally was. I turns out grieving even in really good ways will completely wipe me out. I feel like I could sleep for 10 hours or so.
As we started to close our session, I felt that feeling come over me again. The one where God is bringing something to the forefront of my mind to talk to someone about. I was thinking about the Treasure You application and I thought I wanted to tell Kate about it because she would have some good, sound, Biblical advice about it. But I also need to confess that I was feeling really self-conscious about telling her. I thought she would say to me, "Oh doll, you're nowhere near ready to do that yet." or "Are you sure you're up for that?" The selfish side of me really didn't want to tell her. I mean, I just felt really conflicted. And part of me worried that Kate would win it over me. I'm not trying to be silly, I'm just saying that she's two years outside of her loss and she's a professional counselor, for pete's sake. Surely she would have better things to say than me.
I resisted telling her. I sat there and tried to shoo the feeling away. Finally I looked at the ceiling and said, "Okay FINE I'll tell her." Kate kind of cocked her head at me and I looked at her and started telling her about the conference. After I was done, she said, "Maybe you were suppose to tell me about that. Because I just got that feeling, too, like this is important. And something you didn't know is that this weekend I felt God telling me to get ready because I am going to start speaking somewhere, in some way. I don't know what that looks like yet, but maybe this is it. Thank you for telling me."
I had a complete mixed reaction between relief and envy. I mean, she's obviously much better qualified than me to have that kind of attention, but at the same time I wanted to be the one to share the story. Our stories are similar but different, but I still wanted to be the one with the opportunity to remember and share.
If you ever meet me personally, know that sometimes I have verbal diarrhea. I tend to say whatever comes into my head sometimes. One of my friends says Jennifer Lawrence reminds her of me because she does the exact same thing. It happens the most when I'm comfortable in a situation with people that I don't mind being not the best version of myself.
This was a prime example. "Oh okay. Well maybe that was it. But I have to tell you I"ll be really jealous if you get it but then again if God doesn't want me to have it and it was meant for you then that's okay but I"m still going to be really jealous but that's okay. And you'll have to get Robin Roberts' signature for me because I really like her." Yeah just run that sentence together and you'll get about where I was. I was immediately embarrassed, but thankfully this conversation happened at the end of the session.
We decided that we wouldn't meet for the next two weeks because of the two holidays that were coming up. I was grateful because I needed time to recover from my embarrassment and my not-well-hidden envy.
Sunday, December 22, 2013
Building the foundation
I have been extremely fortunate in my life to have been exposed to a lot of Christianity. A lot of churches, a wide variety of theologies, and a lot of great teachers. A LOT of great teachers.
People have said to me, "You're so strong in your faith. I could never have handled it as gracefully as you did. You're so amazing."
First and foremost: People are crazy. I mean, I don't think I have handled Kaitlyn's death in a bad way, but I also am not naive enough to think that this is all me. Have I tried to be transparent in my sorrow and grief? Absolutely. I have even written a couple of posts just to show that I am not amazing. These emotions are true and real to who I am, and who am I am evolving to be as I walk my grief daily.
However, and this is a big however, I need to emphasize that I have been building on my foundation in Christ since I was 8 years old. There have been seasons when I walked away from church and the "Christian" walk (read: Senior year of high school was rough and I think my parents would 100% agree I got lost), and as I went through college Church and actively pursuing Christ really fell on the back burner.
The summer before my Senior year in High School, my church did a Senior's only Bible study. I was really excited and showed up every Wednesday night at whoever's house to be fed by other's knowledge and to grow my own. One Wednesday it was my turn to host the study, and I was ecstatic. Like cloud 9 ecstatic. I was excited to have all of these awesome Christ followers coming to my home to worship!
An hour or two before the study was suppose to start, I got a call from the leader who was one of my friend's dads. "We're going to cancel the study for the rest of the summer," he told me. "Nobody could come tonight, and people are just getting busy with vacations and not going to be able to attend. I'm sorry." When I was on the phone with him, I handled it like an adult. After we hung up, I cried for a good 30 minutes. I had been leaning on that group so much to prepare me for the challenges of the upcoming seasons of change. I felt abandoned. I felt left out. I was disappointed. And beyond all that, I knew that I would fall. I knew that if I didn't prepare, I was going to fall on my face because my faith wasn't strong enough. And that's exactly what ended up happening. Instead of pursuing my relationship with Christ on my own, I fell into going along with the crowd and hanging out with people I'm not proud that I followed. I let things that should have shocked and shamed me become okay. Almost like the tale of the frog who is boiled alive because he doesn't feel the water around him getting hot.
The point is: I was leaning way too much on others to grow me. I made the decision to let others dictate the depth of my relationship with God. After I fell, I did a big U-turn around the time I went to college and when I lived with Nancy I continued to be challenged in my personal walk.
I had heard it throughout the years, but I never really got it that your relationship with Christ is as deep as you want it to be, and it is personal. All of us will have struggles, guaranteed. It even says it in 1 Thesselonians 3:3 that we are destined to go through trials. Here's the thing, though: God doesn't give us a blueprint for when those trials will occur. He doesn't tell us if it will happen tomorrow, or next week, or next year, or not for 50 years. I guarantee my parents never had it cross their mind that their first granddaughter would be called home early, and if they had seen that Kaitlyn's death was coming they would have begged us not to get pregnant to avoid the pain.
The point is this: build your foundation. Don't wait for the trials and struggles and pain. Don't wait on your pastor to return from vacation, don't wait on that Bible study to start at church. Start now. Ask God to grow your spirit and genuinely seek Him. He will provide you with such individual attention that you'll be amazed that you didn't find Him before. You'll start recognizing His favor in your every day actives. And then, when the rain comes, your foundation will be solid. You'll still hurt, you'll still cry, but you will know in your heart and soul that your Father loves you. He yearns for a relationship with you and for you to seek him.
People have said to me, "You're so strong in your faith. I could never have handled it as gracefully as you did. You're so amazing."
First and foremost: People are crazy. I mean, I don't think I have handled Kaitlyn's death in a bad way, but I also am not naive enough to think that this is all me. Have I tried to be transparent in my sorrow and grief? Absolutely. I have even written a couple of posts just to show that I am not amazing. These emotions are true and real to who I am, and who am I am evolving to be as I walk my grief daily.
However, and this is a big however, I need to emphasize that I have been building on my foundation in Christ since I was 8 years old. There have been seasons when I walked away from church and the "Christian" walk (read: Senior year of high school was rough and I think my parents would 100% agree I got lost), and as I went through college Church and actively pursuing Christ really fell on the back burner.
The summer before my Senior year in High School, my church did a Senior's only Bible study. I was really excited and showed up every Wednesday night at whoever's house to be fed by other's knowledge and to grow my own. One Wednesday it was my turn to host the study, and I was ecstatic. Like cloud 9 ecstatic. I was excited to have all of these awesome Christ followers coming to my home to worship!
An hour or two before the study was suppose to start, I got a call from the leader who was one of my friend's dads. "We're going to cancel the study for the rest of the summer," he told me. "Nobody could come tonight, and people are just getting busy with vacations and not going to be able to attend. I'm sorry." When I was on the phone with him, I handled it like an adult. After we hung up, I cried for a good 30 minutes. I had been leaning on that group so much to prepare me for the challenges of the upcoming seasons of change. I felt abandoned. I felt left out. I was disappointed. And beyond all that, I knew that I would fall. I knew that if I didn't prepare, I was going to fall on my face because my faith wasn't strong enough. And that's exactly what ended up happening. Instead of pursuing my relationship with Christ on my own, I fell into going along with the crowd and hanging out with people I'm not proud that I followed. I let things that should have shocked and shamed me become okay. Almost like the tale of the frog who is boiled alive because he doesn't feel the water around him getting hot.
The point is: I was leaning way too much on others to grow me. I made the decision to let others dictate the depth of my relationship with God. After I fell, I did a big U-turn around the time I went to college and when I lived with Nancy I continued to be challenged in my personal walk.
I had heard it throughout the years, but I never really got it that your relationship with Christ is as deep as you want it to be, and it is personal. All of us will have struggles, guaranteed. It even says it in 1 Thesselonians 3:3 that we are destined to go through trials. Here's the thing, though: God doesn't give us a blueprint for when those trials will occur. He doesn't tell us if it will happen tomorrow, or next week, or next year, or not for 50 years. I guarantee my parents never had it cross their mind that their first granddaughter would be called home early, and if they had seen that Kaitlyn's death was coming they would have begged us not to get pregnant to avoid the pain.
The point is this: build your foundation. Don't wait for the trials and struggles and pain. Don't wait on your pastor to return from vacation, don't wait on that Bible study to start at church. Start now. Ask God to grow your spirit and genuinely seek Him. He will provide you with such individual attention that you'll be amazed that you didn't find Him before. You'll start recognizing His favor in your every day actives. And then, when the rain comes, your foundation will be solid. You'll still hurt, you'll still cry, but you will know in your heart and soul that your Father loves you. He yearns for a relationship with you and for you to seek him.
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Great Expectations
12.21.13
It was time for us to go off to our hometown for a fundraiser in Kaitlyn's honor. The gym, Crossfit FMS (For My Savior) had decided to raise money for the Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep organization as a way of honoring our daughter.
Here is the post that the owner's wife, Hallye, posted:
It was time for us to go off to our hometown for a fundraiser in Kaitlyn's honor. The gym, Crossfit FMS (For My Savior) had decided to raise money for the Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep organization as a way of honoring our daughter.
Here is the post that the owner's wife, Hallye, posted:
Christmas Fundraiser
My husband started this small business in West Texas just trying to make my dent in the world. I figured he would help a few people lose some weight and provide for our family. It grew, and grew. The day I realized he was making a bigger impact than I thought, was when Alex Munoz messaged him to tell him he was following our programming in Afghanistan. That really blew my mind. Here was a soldier, fighting for our country, in a desert across the world that was listening to my husband and our little gym. Alex has always been special to me, for that reason. We mailed him some shirts and a small care package while he was stationed and David & he have always kept in touch via Facebook.
As some of you know, Alex and his wife Amy were expecting a little girl, Kaitlyn Sophia. Alex arrived home (unexpectedly at that) in time for her delivery. Their little girl was in the breech position and they elected to do a c-section. They loaded their car with their car seat and their hospital bag and were off to meet their sweet girl. When they checked into the hospital they found out that God had called Kaitlyn home. I cannot imagine a greater pain. The grace with which Alex and his wife have handled this heartbreak is truly remarkable. To get a better glimpse, you can see Amy’s blog here.
Now, with the Christmas season rolling around God has placed them even more heavily on my heart. I reached out and asked Amy if there was anything we, as a community, could do for them. She mentioned this organization, Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep and how they gave her the most precious gift on that day. Pictures of her sweet baby girl. You can read more about that, here.
That was all it took. We will raise money to donate to that organization in sweet Kailtyn’s name.
Friends, acquaintances, strangers, anybody, this is to you – As most of you know, this is one of my few posts on the website in the 2 years we have had this little gym. This is so, so important to me. Most of us will never have to experience the absolute tragedy that these sweet people have. THANK GOD. And please, even if you have a dollar left to your name, give some pennies to this cause.
Many years ago, while listening to the late Kidd Kraddick, my husband and I heard him talk about the “healthy kid tax” and how we are called as parents of healthy babies, to pay our “tax” to those that don’t. I ask you, if you can find a place in your heart to donate, please do.
Alex & Amy will be attending this “Kaitlyn Sophia WOD” which will be held on Saturday, December 21st, 2013 at 10 am. Even if you can’t make a donation please feel free to come out and help support them physically, with a smile and a hug.
More details on the WOD itself will be released next week, but plan on being here at 10 am! And of course, even if you can’t make the WOD, donations are welcome!
As for donations, we are putting a suggested donation of $20 on this, but obviously, any more or less is welcomed. You can email with the amount you would like charged to your account, you can bring cash/check to the box beforehand and give it to a coach, or you can bring it with you on the day of the WOD.
I am so blessed and honored to be a part of this amazing community and I am SO EXCITED to see how we can impact this charity.
Thank you, and may God bless you!
We were blown away that they had decided to do this for us, and we were really excited to get to be there for it. I agonized for a few days over what to wear, and Alex said, "Its a gym, just wear sweat pants!" I told him that would make me a poser because I had absolutely no intention of working out.
As we were driving to the gym, Alex and I decided to set our expectations on what we would like to see the total at. Hallye and David had asked for a donation of $20, so we figured if 10 people showed up to do the workout, then that would be $200. Plus, if people didn't show up or donate, it was within our means to top it off to $200 (read: I am a control freak and need to be sure we raise at least this much). We said a little prayer before we went into the gym for God's will to be done and for His glory would Kaitlyn's memory be honored.
When we got to the gym, we waited until Alex saw David, the gym owner, get there before we got out of the car. I was humbled and honored that this guy and his wife had decided that our daughter was their fundraiser of choice for the Christmas season. David did a short introduction before they got started on the WOD, and Hallye and I sat in the back and talked. (More on this later)
At the end of the workout, Hallye tallied up all of the donations and made the announcement that they had raised $3,500 in Kaitlyn's honor. "And that's not including some people that I know are going to donate later in the week and our own donation," she said to the group. I'm pretty sure my jaw was on the floor. It was amazing. I was stunned. And blessed. I think this is a perfect, tangible example of how when we set our minds to what would be "incredible" and then ask God's will to be done concerning it, He will gladly blow our expectations out of the water.
Christmas dinner
12.21.13
That evening, we went and picked up my grandma on my dad's side for Christmas dinner. She has pretty advanced Alzheimer's, and I don't think she called me by name the whole night. But she sure wasn't shy about saying how good looking my husband is!
We were sitting at the bar playing around on my iPad and I was trying to engage her in a conversation. It was really hard for me to not talk about Kaitlyn. I struggled for nearly the entire conversation about whether or not to bring K up, but I knew that if she didn't remember my daughter it would hurt, or even worse, if Mom and Dad had decided not to bother to tell her just because she wouldn't remember. Later, I would ask and Mom told me that she and Dad did tell my grandma about Kaitlyn, but at this stage in her disease she doesn't even recognize pictures of her own daughter that are scattered around her room at the nursing home. She just knows my aunt as "some really pretty girl." I was relieved that they had told her, but still sad that I wasn't able to talk to my grandma about it.
During dinner, my Mom got up and turned on the Christmas music of Nat King Cole. The album starts out with an orchestration and slowly builds until his smooth voice comes in singing the Christmas Song. The start of this album has punctuated every Christmas I can remember. My Mom would encourage us when we were growing up to go and sit in the living room where our 7 foot Christmas tree was and just look at the lights when it was dark outside. I spent more and more time doing this as I grew up, mostly just appreciating the beauty of the tree and sometimes looking at the gold angel we had bought the year that Sheila died and put on top of the tree. I helped Mom pick out that angel because I wanted our tree to mean something that year.
We always made a tradition of piling into the car and driving around looking at Christmas lights. This album was always in the CD player, and we would drive out to the nice areas of the city where the HOA's required putting up Christmas lights. Sipping our hot chocolate (and later in life, our Starbucks!) we would listen to the music and appreciate all the lights shining brightly.
It hurt me to hear that song played again. The beginning of that album holds so many different memories across my 29 years, and I had so hoped that I would be making those same memories and traditions with Kaitlyn. I knew that Alex would probably roll his eyes and say, "She's 3 months old, she is not going to remember this" but he would have done it anyways because I asked him to. He loves me like that.
It was the same hurt that I experienced when we put up the Christmas tree and I thought about how pretty those lights would have been reflecting off of those chocolate brown eyes. I mourned the memories I had created in my mind of what Kaitlyn would be doing at this point in the year. I wanted to be able to hold her and talk to her as we looked at the Christmas tree and listened to an album that was made before I was born.
I left the table for a few minutes and snuck into another part of the house to cry. I needed to let out my disappointment in the form of tears. It didn't take long for Alex to come find me and give me a big hug and let me know it was going to be okay. Mom asked if I wanted to turn the music off, but I didn't want that. I just missed our daughter.
With our future kids, these memories will still be made, but there will always be part of me that longs for the Christmas of 2012 to have been our first Christmas with a little one.
That evening, we went and picked up my grandma on my dad's side for Christmas dinner. She has pretty advanced Alzheimer's, and I don't think she called me by name the whole night. But she sure wasn't shy about saying how good looking my husband is!
We were sitting at the bar playing around on my iPad and I was trying to engage her in a conversation. It was really hard for me to not talk about Kaitlyn. I struggled for nearly the entire conversation about whether or not to bring K up, but I knew that if she didn't remember my daughter it would hurt, or even worse, if Mom and Dad had decided not to bother to tell her just because she wouldn't remember. Later, I would ask and Mom told me that she and Dad did tell my grandma about Kaitlyn, but at this stage in her disease she doesn't even recognize pictures of her own daughter that are scattered around her room at the nursing home. She just knows my aunt as "some really pretty girl." I was relieved that they had told her, but still sad that I wasn't able to talk to my grandma about it.
During dinner, my Mom got up and turned on the Christmas music of Nat King Cole. The album starts out with an orchestration and slowly builds until his smooth voice comes in singing the Christmas Song. The start of this album has punctuated every Christmas I can remember. My Mom would encourage us when we were growing up to go and sit in the living room where our 7 foot Christmas tree was and just look at the lights when it was dark outside. I spent more and more time doing this as I grew up, mostly just appreciating the beauty of the tree and sometimes looking at the gold angel we had bought the year that Sheila died and put on top of the tree. I helped Mom pick out that angel because I wanted our tree to mean something that year.
We always made a tradition of piling into the car and driving around looking at Christmas lights. This album was always in the CD player, and we would drive out to the nice areas of the city where the HOA's required putting up Christmas lights. Sipping our hot chocolate (and later in life, our Starbucks!) we would listen to the music and appreciate all the lights shining brightly.
It hurt me to hear that song played again. The beginning of that album holds so many different memories across my 29 years, and I had so hoped that I would be making those same memories and traditions with Kaitlyn. I knew that Alex would probably roll his eyes and say, "She's 3 months old, she is not going to remember this" but he would have done it anyways because I asked him to. He loves me like that.
It was the same hurt that I experienced when we put up the Christmas tree and I thought about how pretty those lights would have been reflecting off of those chocolate brown eyes. I mourned the memories I had created in my mind of what Kaitlyn would be doing at this point in the year. I wanted to be able to hold her and talk to her as we looked at the Christmas tree and listened to an album that was made before I was born.
I left the table for a few minutes and snuck into another part of the house to cry. I needed to let out my disappointment in the form of tears. It didn't take long for Alex to come find me and give me a big hug and let me know it was going to be okay. Mom asked if I wanted to turn the music off, but I didn't want that. I just missed our daughter.
With our future kids, these memories will still be made, but there will always be part of me that longs for the Christmas of 2012 to have been our first Christmas with a little one.
Friday, December 20, 2013
I'm just kidding...
12.20.13
Friday I was really excited because one of our physician groups were throwing their annual Christmas party. I had picked out my outfit, and I was going to stop by for just a little while because I was also going out to our hometown that weekend and my flight was the last one out that night. But first, I needed to get through the work day.
One thing happened that day that was fairly significant: I actually had to walk out of a case because I was upset. One of the anesthesiologists who had come to visit us in the first 24 hours after Kaitlyn passed was working with us that day (luckily, I had a coworker with me), and we were in the process of waking the patient up. This physician is known as a jokster, he has his set of jokes he tells nearly every patient before he puts them to sleep and most of them are really funny. He makes everyone feel at ease, and he is one of my favorite people to work with.
While he was trying to wake the patient up, the patient started squirming a little bit on the table. I'm not sure of the gender of the patient, but this doc said to them, "Don't worry, don't fret, the baby's fine...". We don't do anything even remotely related to birth, so then he delivered the punchline, "I'm just kidding, there's no baby here." UGH.
I know that he didn't see me in the room; I had snuck in about half way through the case. And now I was about to sneak out of the case. I felt like I had been punched in the gut. I couldn't help but be mad, but I knew he would never say that in front of me on purpose. And like I've said before, I don't really want to be the person that everyone edits themselves in front of. But his joke hurt. I know it wasn't a slam at me, but it still hurt.
I left early that day and went and took care of some paperwork I needed to get finished. I felt kind of off for the rest of the day, and then I started getting a little anxious about going to the Christmas party. Remember how I told you I was the second in a line of 5 girls that were all pregnant together? Well, 4 out of the 5 of us were suppose to be at the party that night. I went early since I wouldn't be able to stay long, and within about 15 minutes of me getting there Sarah showed up. Sarah was big pregnant, she was number 4 in the lineup behind E, me, and Kaitlyn. She saw me, and complete joy lit up her face. I hadn't been able to go over to the office at all since I had been back at work, mostly because I was terrified of seeing Kaitlyn face to face because I wanted to love her but felt such jealousy of her all at the same time. Sarah had come to see us in the hospital, and she is one of the sweetest people I've ever met.
She quickly came over and gave me a big hug, "I've missed you. I've been worried about you... How are you?" It was a bear hug, and I loved every second of it. I had missed her too, we are right about the same age and both have ties to West Texas so we were fast friends when she moved to Dallas. I told her I was doing okay, but that I hadn't stopped by the office because it was just too hard. "We totally understand," she said. She let me know that her little one was coming on Monday. I had a wave of that panic similar to what I had with my cousin's birth. "She's head down?" I asked. "Yup, she's ready to go." Sarah replied. We talked about work a little, and then she asked if we were going to have another baby soon. "Definitely," I replied. "Well, you're going to have a hard time topping that name..." She laughed, "You're not going to reuse that, right?" "Um no! I have heard of people doing that, but that was absolutely Kaitlyn's name, and nobody else's. She kind of picked it." I laughed back at her. K-So will always only be for my first little girl and nobody else.
Later, preggo number 5 showed up and the three of us were standing around talking. We talked about how funny it was that all of us had been pregnant together, and number 5 is due in January. Sarah looked at me with her pregnancy glowing face and said confidently, "And then you'll start the cycle over." I love her.
I said a quick good-bye to everyone and headed out to the airport. I felt good, I was glad that I hadn't let my anxiety about the party keep me from going. I had gotten some great hugs and enjoyed seeing people I hadn't broken the ice with yet.
Friday I was really excited because one of our physician groups were throwing their annual Christmas party. I had picked out my outfit, and I was going to stop by for just a little while because I was also going out to our hometown that weekend and my flight was the last one out that night. But first, I needed to get through the work day.
One thing happened that day that was fairly significant: I actually had to walk out of a case because I was upset. One of the anesthesiologists who had come to visit us in the first 24 hours after Kaitlyn passed was working with us that day (luckily, I had a coworker with me), and we were in the process of waking the patient up. This physician is known as a jokster, he has his set of jokes he tells nearly every patient before he puts them to sleep and most of them are really funny. He makes everyone feel at ease, and he is one of my favorite people to work with.
While he was trying to wake the patient up, the patient started squirming a little bit on the table. I'm not sure of the gender of the patient, but this doc said to them, "Don't worry, don't fret, the baby's fine...". We don't do anything even remotely related to birth, so then he delivered the punchline, "I'm just kidding, there's no baby here." UGH.
I know that he didn't see me in the room; I had snuck in about half way through the case. And now I was about to sneak out of the case. I felt like I had been punched in the gut. I couldn't help but be mad, but I knew he would never say that in front of me on purpose. And like I've said before, I don't really want to be the person that everyone edits themselves in front of. But his joke hurt. I know it wasn't a slam at me, but it still hurt.
I left early that day and went and took care of some paperwork I needed to get finished. I felt kind of off for the rest of the day, and then I started getting a little anxious about going to the Christmas party. Remember how I told you I was the second in a line of 5 girls that were all pregnant together? Well, 4 out of the 5 of us were suppose to be at the party that night. I went early since I wouldn't be able to stay long, and within about 15 minutes of me getting there Sarah showed up. Sarah was big pregnant, she was number 4 in the lineup behind E, me, and Kaitlyn. She saw me, and complete joy lit up her face. I hadn't been able to go over to the office at all since I had been back at work, mostly because I was terrified of seeing Kaitlyn face to face because I wanted to love her but felt such jealousy of her all at the same time. Sarah had come to see us in the hospital, and she is one of the sweetest people I've ever met.
She quickly came over and gave me a big hug, "I've missed you. I've been worried about you... How are you?" It was a bear hug, and I loved every second of it. I had missed her too, we are right about the same age and both have ties to West Texas so we were fast friends when she moved to Dallas. I told her I was doing okay, but that I hadn't stopped by the office because it was just too hard. "We totally understand," she said. She let me know that her little one was coming on Monday. I had a wave of that panic similar to what I had with my cousin's birth. "She's head down?" I asked. "Yup, she's ready to go." Sarah replied. We talked about work a little, and then she asked if we were going to have another baby soon. "Definitely," I replied. "Well, you're going to have a hard time topping that name..." She laughed, "You're not going to reuse that, right?" "Um no! I have heard of people doing that, but that was absolutely Kaitlyn's name, and nobody else's. She kind of picked it." I laughed back at her. K-So will always only be for my first little girl and nobody else.
Later, preggo number 5 showed up and the three of us were standing around talking. We talked about how funny it was that all of us had been pregnant together, and number 5 is due in January. Sarah looked at me with her pregnancy glowing face and said confidently, "And then you'll start the cycle over." I love her.
I said a quick good-bye to everyone and headed out to the airport. I felt good, I was glad that I hadn't let my anxiety about the party keep me from going. I had gotten some great hugs and enjoyed seeing people I hadn't broken the ice with yet.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Dinner with Mallie
12.19.13
Backup to last Monday morning: I had woken up and turned on my favorite morning show to wake up to (you're welcome for the shameless plug, WFAA Channel 8) when I heard something interesting. There was a special section announcing a program called "Treasure You" with the theme of "Overcoming." Emmitt Smith's wife, Pat, was on the set that morning and talked about their conference coming up in January where Robin Roberts would come and speak about her challenges with cancer and overcoming her health issues that have plagued her for the last 10 years. I have watched Good Morning America for about the last 15 years of my life, and have watched Robin share her story of faith and grace in the storm twice.
Pat was on the news that morning requesting that females with stories of "Overcoming" the obstacles in their life write in and share their stories. I don't know how God speaks to you or grabs your attention, but I can tell you that the hair on the back of my neck stood up and I felt like this was important. This was something I was suppose to apply for. I listened as she told that the winner of the little competition was going to be able to share their story of overcoming with the other women who would attend the conference.
First off, I write much better than I speak in public. I get nervous and sweaty whenever I have to talk in front of large groups unless I consider myself an expert on the topic (i.e. only in job situations where I have been able to become a mini-expert on the technology). I have absolutely no idea what the heck is going to happen with this seminar, but I just knew that it was important for me to hear it that morning, and it would be important for me to apply for it if only out of obedience to what I was feeling God say to me.
I took a look at the application online and found out I needed letters of reference for my character and also had to provide all of my work information including my manager's name and number. Holy moly. Okay this is legit.
That night, Mallie and I had decided to meet up for dinner. It was the first time I would see her face-to-face since she had graciously taken pictures for us at the hospital. I was a little nervous, but I was excited to see her because I knew that we were going to be friends and continue my journey together.
We met up at a local restaurant, and one of the first things she said to me was, "I didn't realize how tall you are!" I'm a comfortable 5'11", and I get that all the time. I had been laying in the hospital bed last time she saw me, so this didn't completely surprise me. We sat and talked for a while about nothing and everything, touching on the subject of Kaitlyn ever now and then and eventually coming around to Mallie's story.
Mallie was a hope mom, too. She shared with me that she had lost her baby at 12 weeks, and she never didn't even have a sonogram to hold on to. She had been actively shooting for NILMDTS since July of 2012, and she said that Kaitlyn was the 27th baby she had taken pictures for. "I keep ornaments for all of them on my tree. I remember their stories and celebrate their short lives. I know how much pictures would have meant for me and that's why I volunteer to take pictures for others."
This. Girl. She has one of the biggest hearts I have ever come to know. We continued our small talk and eventually I got around to telling her about the "Treasure You" conference.
"You have to apply for that, I'll write you a letter of recommendation." she said, without the slightest hesitation. I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped open. I have no idea what God is doing with my application for the conference, but I knew that I needed to be blindly obedient and go with it. I told her I would love for her to write my letter, and I knew it would bring me to tears without even having read it.
Backup to last Monday morning: I had woken up and turned on my favorite morning show to wake up to (you're welcome for the shameless plug, WFAA Channel 8) when I heard something interesting. There was a special section announcing a program called "Treasure You" with the theme of "Overcoming." Emmitt Smith's wife, Pat, was on the set that morning and talked about their conference coming up in January where Robin Roberts would come and speak about her challenges with cancer and overcoming her health issues that have plagued her for the last 10 years. I have watched Good Morning America for about the last 15 years of my life, and have watched Robin share her story of faith and grace in the storm twice.
Pat was on the news that morning requesting that females with stories of "Overcoming" the obstacles in their life write in and share their stories. I don't know how God speaks to you or grabs your attention, but I can tell you that the hair on the back of my neck stood up and I felt like this was important. This was something I was suppose to apply for. I listened as she told that the winner of the little competition was going to be able to share their story of overcoming with the other women who would attend the conference.
First off, I write much better than I speak in public. I get nervous and sweaty whenever I have to talk in front of large groups unless I consider myself an expert on the topic (i.e. only in job situations where I have been able to become a mini-expert on the technology). I have absolutely no idea what the heck is going to happen with this seminar, but I just knew that it was important for me to hear it that morning, and it would be important for me to apply for it if only out of obedience to what I was feeling God say to me.
I took a look at the application online and found out I needed letters of reference for my character and also had to provide all of my work information including my manager's name and number. Holy moly. Okay this is legit.
That night, Mallie and I had decided to meet up for dinner. It was the first time I would see her face-to-face since she had graciously taken pictures for us at the hospital. I was a little nervous, but I was excited to see her because I knew that we were going to be friends and continue my journey together.
We met up at a local restaurant, and one of the first things she said to me was, "I didn't realize how tall you are!" I'm a comfortable 5'11", and I get that all the time. I had been laying in the hospital bed last time she saw me, so this didn't completely surprise me. We sat and talked for a while about nothing and everything, touching on the subject of Kaitlyn ever now and then and eventually coming around to Mallie's story.
Mallie was a hope mom, too. She shared with me that she had lost her baby at 12 weeks, and she never didn't even have a sonogram to hold on to. She had been actively shooting for NILMDTS since July of 2012, and she said that Kaitlyn was the 27th baby she had taken pictures for. "I keep ornaments for all of them on my tree. I remember their stories and celebrate their short lives. I know how much pictures would have meant for me and that's why I volunteer to take pictures for others."
This. Girl. She has one of the biggest hearts I have ever come to know. We continued our small talk and eventually I got around to telling her about the "Treasure You" conference.
"You have to apply for that, I'll write you a letter of recommendation." she said, without the slightest hesitation. I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped open. I have no idea what God is doing with my application for the conference, but I knew that I needed to be blindly obedient and go with it. I told her I would love for her to write my letter, and I knew it would bring me to tears without even having read it.
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
The middle of the week
12.18.13
Wednesdays are still my hard days. Its the countdown and countup combination that is very difficult to get my mind and heart wrapped around.
This Wednesday, my work was easy in the morning so I stayed home for a few hours and got caught up on paperwork. It hit me out of the blue. I have absolutely no idea where it came from, but one minute I was sitting at the bar working and the next I was standing in the doorway of Kaitlyn's room crying. I don't have a clue where it came from. There wasn't a trigger that I could have pointed to and said, "Let's not do that again." It was just the overwhelming, gut-wrenching missing of my daughter. I wanted to hold her again. For some reason, my mind had floated back to the sonogram we had 8 days before her arrival. Everything was fine, and my little girl was just sitting in her cozy corner of the world waiting for the time when she would show the world that I was right about her full head of hair. I don't remember her doing anything out of the ordinary that day, but I remember the sound of the ultrasound as it found her heart beat and started making the wooshing sound of the blood flowing in and out of her heart.
Whenever I would have a sonogram, I would leave the office with one of their envelopes and the flimsy paper images tucked neatly inside. Every time except for that last time, my first stop after the doctor would be a CVS or Walgreens where I could make copies of the sonograms on real photo paper that I could mail to Alex in a care package. He had copies of all of her pictures with him while he was stationary, but we knew that he would be heading home before I could get him copies of those last pictures.
I still have all of the envelopes stashed around the house. The early ones are in the bedside table on Alex's side of the bed, all organized by date taken. The most recent ones are sitting precariously on the side of her crib. I can't make myself do anything with them, and I don't think I am suppose to just yet. I have thought about putting them in a picture book, but its hard to think about the finality of doing that. I already have the box that has the few books that have her name written in them as well as a few things from the hospital, but her pictures are different. There are some days that Kaitlyn feels like a dream. It feels like my body didn't just spend 39.5 weeks sheltering and building this mini-human.
Those pictures are my reminder, my tangible, no-doubt-about-it reminder that Kaitlyn was here. I cried over those last sonogram images. On one of the first ones where she is more than just a little blob she had pushed her foot out and spread it on the side of my stomach so that her toes were slightly spread. She had her daddy's toes. I cried and kissed those little toes and talked to her picture. I just cried over my sweet baby girl.
"You make beautiful things
you make beautiful things out of the dust..."
Wednesdays are still my hard days. Its the countdown and countup combination that is very difficult to get my mind and heart wrapped around.
This Wednesday, my work was easy in the morning so I stayed home for a few hours and got caught up on paperwork. It hit me out of the blue. I have absolutely no idea where it came from, but one minute I was sitting at the bar working and the next I was standing in the doorway of Kaitlyn's room crying. I don't have a clue where it came from. There wasn't a trigger that I could have pointed to and said, "Let's not do that again." It was just the overwhelming, gut-wrenching missing of my daughter. I wanted to hold her again. For some reason, my mind had floated back to the sonogram we had 8 days before her arrival. Everything was fine, and my little girl was just sitting in her cozy corner of the world waiting for the time when she would show the world that I was right about her full head of hair. I don't remember her doing anything out of the ordinary that day, but I remember the sound of the ultrasound as it found her heart beat and started making the wooshing sound of the blood flowing in and out of her heart.
Whenever I would have a sonogram, I would leave the office with one of their envelopes and the flimsy paper images tucked neatly inside. Every time except for that last time, my first stop after the doctor would be a CVS or Walgreens where I could make copies of the sonograms on real photo paper that I could mail to Alex in a care package. He had copies of all of her pictures with him while he was stationary, but we knew that he would be heading home before I could get him copies of those last pictures.
I still have all of the envelopes stashed around the house. The early ones are in the bedside table on Alex's side of the bed, all organized by date taken. The most recent ones are sitting precariously on the side of her crib. I can't make myself do anything with them, and I don't think I am suppose to just yet. I have thought about putting them in a picture book, but its hard to think about the finality of doing that. I already have the box that has the few books that have her name written in them as well as a few things from the hospital, but her pictures are different. There are some days that Kaitlyn feels like a dream. It feels like my body didn't just spend 39.5 weeks sheltering and building this mini-human.
Those pictures are my reminder, my tangible, no-doubt-about-it reminder that Kaitlyn was here. I cried over those last sonogram images. On one of the first ones where she is more than just a little blob she had pushed her foot out and spread it on the side of my stomach so that her toes were slightly spread. She had her daddy's toes. I cried and kissed those little toes and talked to her picture. I just cried over my sweet baby girl.
"You make beautiful things
you make beautiful things out of the dust..."
The dude gene
12.18.13
I have what David liked to use to call "the dude gene." I am one of those people who can sit and have a complete come-apart, crying and wailing, and then when I am done I am perfectly okay with dusting off and getting back to life. It may be just my expert ability to mourn.
After I had finished crying over Kaitlyn's sonograms, I packed up my stuff and headed to work. Now, for the most part, I haven't written much about the people I work with aside from them coming to visit us at the hospital or coming to the memorial service. Mostly, people have been extremely kind to me and haven't given me anything to write about.
Except one.
There was a nurse, who really hit me the wrong way one day. She asked me how I was doing, and since I had just finished crying over my daughter's sonograms I was truthful and I told her I was having a bad day. I usually just kind of shrug and leave it alone, and most people understand that I am just going to have bad days sometimes. This time, I asked the nurse how she was doing and she kind of shrugged a reply. I said, "Oh yeah, you're having a bad day, too?" and she. replied (I couldn't make this up if I tried) "Yeah but with me it's not just bad days, it's bad weeks."
I beg your pardon?
Come again?
What?
I got mad. M.A.D. Red faced, needed to step out of the room to remember how to breathe, MAD. I was pissed. I was indignant. How could this person think that I was just merely having bad days? Every day I get up and make the choice to be a positive person, and to look for God in every detail of my sorrow, but even with all of that my grief still sneaks up on me and whacks me in the chest out of nowhere. I spent the morning crying my eyes out over pictures of my daughter that I will never hold again on this earth. And here this nurse thought that what she was going through could compare? Seriously?
I left the room and went and found a quiet little area where I could calm down. I was nearly in tears. I started pacing up and down the hallway. Kate had recommended to me that if I had moments where I felt overwhelmed that I should jot down notes in my phone since writing has become such an outlet for me. I opened up the notes app on my phone and wrote this:
I have what David liked to use to call "the dude gene." I am one of those people who can sit and have a complete come-apart, crying and wailing, and then when I am done I am perfectly okay with dusting off and getting back to life. It may be just my expert ability to mourn.
After I had finished crying over Kaitlyn's sonograms, I packed up my stuff and headed to work. Now, for the most part, I haven't written much about the people I work with aside from them coming to visit us at the hospital or coming to the memorial service. Mostly, people have been extremely kind to me and haven't given me anything to write about.
Except one.
There was a nurse, who really hit me the wrong way one day. She asked me how I was doing, and since I had just finished crying over my daughter's sonograms I was truthful and I told her I was having a bad day. I usually just kind of shrug and leave it alone, and most people understand that I am just going to have bad days sometimes. This time, I asked the nurse how she was doing and she kind of shrugged a reply. I said, "Oh yeah, you're having a bad day, too?" and she. replied (I couldn't make this up if I tried) "Yeah but with me it's not just bad days, it's bad weeks."
I beg your pardon?
Come again?
What?
I got mad. M.A.D. Red faced, needed to step out of the room to remember how to breathe, MAD. I was pissed. I was indignant. How could this person think that I was just merely having bad days? Every day I get up and make the choice to be a positive person, and to look for God in every detail of my sorrow, but even with all of that my grief still sneaks up on me and whacks me in the chest out of nowhere. I spent the morning crying my eyes out over pictures of my daughter that I will never hold again on this earth. And here this nurse thought that what she was going through could compare? Seriously?
I left the room and went and found a quiet little area where I could calm down. I was nearly in tears. I started pacing up and down the hallway. Kate had recommended to me that if I had moments where I felt overwhelmed that I should jot down notes in my phone since writing has become such an outlet for me. I opened up the notes app on my phone and wrote this:
Wednesday- I am angry and hurt today. I want my daughter.
I looked at her sonograms and missed her with every ounce of my being.
I am hurt that she is not here. I am angry that this happened to us. I want to be
obedient, but it is so incredibly hard to stay focused on the bigger plan.
Sometimes I just want to break.
I am angry that (nurse) thinks her life is hard- ITS NOT.
There is nothing like losing your child and feeling like you are spinning out of control.
I want to feel in control again. I want to be who I was 6 months ago.
I have changed so much and sometimes it's not for the better.
I want my daughter in my arms
I want reconciliation.
As I wrote I started to realize that I had been pacing in a figure-8 formation. I learned something in one of my Bible studies through church where they talked about the sign for infinity- ∞. In the old testament, when people would make covenants with each other they would lay out their blood sacrifices in two rows, link arms, and then trace up and around each of the blood sacrifice sections creating a path like an 8 on its side- the infinity symbol. When I realized this, after I had finished writing about my hurt, I started reciting things to myself like, "God is faithful. God will fulfill His promises. God's plan for me is good." I started to feel my anger subside. "God is faithful. God will fulfill His promises. God's plan for me is good."
God is faithful.
God will fulfill His promises.
God's plan for me is good.
Sunday, December 15, 2013
Breakfast with The Nanana
12.15.13
I was geekily excited about Sunday morning brunch with The Nanana. I was really, really excited about getting to continue our friendship after Kaitlyn, and I was flat our joyous that we got to go to her house and meet her husband.
We drove through the neighborhood where she lives and tentatively got out of the car and headed up the steps. Kenney lives in a gorgeous white two-story home, and the inside of it is everything you would expect with a nickname like "The Nanana." There were pictures of her family on the walls, and the house looked like it could have been plucked from the pages of Home and Garden.
She and her husband were cooking up a storm in the kitchen, and she invited us to come in and sit at her big wooden table while they finished getting everything ready. When we sat down, we started talking about our life and what all had been going on with me going back to work and adjusting to life getting back to normal.
Then we talked about her. She shared with us the story of how she was adopted at a young age (around 3-4 years old) by a family who had essentially been her babysitters for a year before her birth Mom gave her up to them legally. She told the story of how her birth Mom had been 14 or 15 years old when she got pregnant with Kenney, and that her birth Dad had told her birth Mom, "Don't you dare give that child my name."
Kenney laughed when she said, "He meant his LAST name, but obviously at 15 years old my birth Mom didn't quite understand that. So my name is Kenneth Dean..." She went on to say how funny it was when she and her husband got married because on their checks there were little hearts and it said "John and Kenney (that's not really her husband's name, for privacy's sake)" and he would always get funny looks when he would write checks at the grocery store. He told her she needed to change the checks and she switched them to Looney Tunes and he said that didn't make it any better.
Her husband had to run to work, and then it was just the three of us talking. Inevitably, the conversation turned to Kaitlyn.
"I didn't know how much you were going to remember about me coming to the hospital that day." She admitted. "You kept falling asleep while we were talking, so I figured you wouldn't remember anything."
It is a very weird sensation to hear that your memory may have significant gaps in it. I read a book this summer called Brain on Fire and it is a true story about a journalist in New York that had an entire month that she had no memory of. The book is basically her investigating what the heck happened in that month, and she goes as far as to watch videos from the psych ward of herself in a period where she has no memory. It was really a fascinating book to think that you can have portions of your life that are just empty in your memory. As I've written this blog, I have continually allowed myself to go back into the places and feelings I had when the events actually happened even though I am writing them two weeks late. Its easy for me to recall the emotions and gut responses to things, and for the most part my memory is very sharp on the events that I've written about. But to be told that maybe your memory is actually full of gaps is a very strange, somewhat scary feeling.
I thought I had a pretty vivid recollection of the events that happened in the hospital, and to hear that I may not remember bits and pieces of it shook me a little. I specifically remember Kenney saying on the Thursday she came to see us that she wasn't going to take Kaitlyn from the hospital that day.
I thought I had a pretty vivid recollection of the events that happened in the hospital, and to hear that I may not remember bits and pieces of it shook me a little. I specifically remember Kenney saying on the Thursday she came to see us that she wasn't going to take Kaitlyn from the hospital that day.
"The staff thought it was really weird that I wasn't going to take her. But I promised you I wouldn't, and I am trued to my word." She said.
"I would never have asked you about that," I told her. "Mainly because if you had lied to me then, I didn't want to know about it. So it was better for me to not ask and make you lie to me about it again if that had been the case, or for you to tell me the truth and hurt my feelings badly."
We finished up our breakfast and headed out to go see a movie (Alex and I love movies). Kenney's phone was ringing from the funeral home as we left, and we each got big hugs from her and promises to make plans again soon. I was overjoyed with happiness to get to keep her in our lives. I knew that we would get to be friends and I would get to love The Nanana for a long time to come.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Return of the Nanana
12.12.13
On Thursday, I got a wild hair and decided to text Kenney. I just wanted to stop by and get a hug from her, I had missed having an excuse to go see her now that all the business from the memorial service had died down.
Me: "Hi Kenney, can I come get a hug later this afternoon?"
Kenney: "I would love to see you!!! You have been on my mind and I wanted to call you but was hesitant..."
What I ended up telling her later is that I had felt the same way. I felt like I wanted to keep up a relationship with Kenney because she is legitimately one of the coolest people I've ever met, and we would have been friends if we had randomly met through a friend but instead she just happened to be our funeral director. I had hesitated to text her earlier because I didn't want to be one of those awkward people who just keeps hanging around after the purpose in the relationship has been completed. I didn't want Kenney to have to apologize to other people for me hanging around and her having to say, "Oh I helped her bury her daughter and she just keeps hanging around." I was extremely relieved when Kenney gave me permission on that Thursday to come by and get a hug from her. So I did.
When I walked into her building, Kenney was at the front desk instead of back in her office. She came around and gave me a big hug and said, "I have been so worried about you... I thought I did something wrong, and then I thought you were just doing really well and I didn't want to bring you down." I almost started crying. I had been so self conscious for nothing, and it wasn't my imagination that we were going to continue to be friends after all of Kaitlyn's service stuff was completed.
"I've got a family in my office..." She continued, letting me know that she wouldn't be able to talk for long. "I am having issues helping them bury their family member across state lines. But I want to talk to you. I want to hear how going back to work went. Is Alex here this weekend? Do y'all want to come over for brunch? Here's my home address, y'all come over on Sunday." Okay, this fabulous lady is giving me her home address. I can't tell you how excited I was that I was going to get to be friends with the Nanana for reals!
We made our arrangements for getting together over the weekend, and I left her office with a boatload of emotions. I had been so excited to see her and that she wanted to see me, but it felt incredibly anticlimactic to leave her office with just plans instead of a 45 minute talk hearing about what all had been going on in our lives in the previous weeks.
When I got back to the house that afternoon, I lost it again. I had been so excited to sit and talk to Kenney and I was a little angry with the family who had decided to need help when I needed her first. I was saddened because it felt like one of the few people who had been there and held Kaitlyn was busy. It was that dialing emotions of wanting to be happy that we had plans but also be sad in the moment that I wanted to have her undivided attention.
I rarely listen to the music that we played at Kaitlyn's memorial service. But for some reason, I decided that I needed to listen to the Chris Tomlin song that Alex had picked out to remember her, "Awakening." I had only listened to it a handful of times since the memorial service, and in those instances I was immediately brought to tears and had a moment remembering where I was emotionally the last time I heard that song. There had been one moment in the first few weeks that I was alone in Dallas where I just had a complete breakdown listening to it as the music filled our home. This was another one of those moments where I just needed to cry and be completely broken before God.
One of the things I noticed about that song is that the background of it is a heartbeat. I don't know that I ever noticed it before we played it at Kaitlyn's service, but now I love to listen to it even more because my ears hone in on that steady, slow beating before the start of the lyrics and I think about how awesome it is that our God creates such intricate beings on a daily basis.
I was sitting at the built-in desk in our house with my forehead laying on the counter, letting the tears fall down the bridge of my nose into my lap when I heard my phone ding with a text message. Normally, it my mom. She randomly texts me throughout the day to see what I'm up to and how my day is going. But this time it wasn't my mom. It was Jan.
Jan: "Hi Amy, your face came up in my mind just now, sending you favor, peace and love right now!"
Me: "Thank you! I just had a cry session. Yesterday was 12 weeks...3 months... Seems like an eternity and an instant all at once."
Jan: "Awe sweet Amy, so many milestones... you're right, fast but also in slow motion!!"
Me: "Thank you for the prayers, and for responding when God put me on your heart. His timing is perfect!!"
Jan: "I'm finally believing this!! So happy you know it at your young age!"
Jan: "Awe sweet Amy, so many milestones... you're right, fast but also in slow motion!!"
Me: "Thank you for the prayers, and for responding when God put me on your heart. His timing is perfect!!"
Jan: "I'm finally believing this!! So happy you know it at your young age!"
Sometimes I get really weighed down in the responsibility of saying the right thing to explain to people my relationship with God through Jesus Christ. I feel like if I just quote the right verses or repeat the things I've heard from various pastors over the years, I can help people understand it. But what I've come to realize is that sometimes the most powerful things we can say and use to show God's glory and mercy is our own stories and glimpses of God. The hope the personal stories I have shared with you over the last few months have enticed you to start thinking of your own spirituality, and what god you are currently serving. The fact that Jan, a friend I have barely spent any time with and yet have connected with on so many levels, followed the stirring in her heart and mind to text me at the exact moment that I was face-down in my brokenness in worship to God is yet another testimony of the love He has for me (and you). He is constantly showing us His presence and grace, but you have to be aware of it to recognize it for what it is.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
12 weeks (part II)
On Wednesday afternoon, I had the appointment with Kate that had been rescheduled. Funny how that worked out that on Monday it didn't bother me one bit to reschedule that appointment, but now that it was Wednesday I really needed to talk to Kate. And here I had an appointment already scheduled with her. God took care of it before I even knew what I needed.
I sat in her office and cried. A lot. Almost the entire time. I told her how there were images that were coming back, and things were getting more clear. One of the memories I have is in those precious few minutes after the c-section was complete and the whole OR emptied out to leave Alex and I alone with our precious baby girl for a few minutes. I remember Alex standing by me as I held our daughter, and I remember the nurses coming back in after our quiet moments and asking if we were ready to go. I think I said, "Sure, I guess." They left me sitting up holding Kaitlyn as we wheeled down the hallway to the next room where we would be reunited wth my parents.
I also remembered what had happened the night before we delivered Kaitlyn. Remember how I said I was/am a control freak? Well the biggest thing I was worried about with having a c-section was that the CRNA that did the entire epidural would miss and hit a nerve and I would be paralized or something. I have no idea why this was my biggest fear, but it was. I mean, the hospital I delivered at does 200 births a month, and well over half of those are caesarean.
I remembered that I stood in the kitchen of our house, and rocked back on my heels as I started crying to Alex and my Mom about how badly I didn't want to do "this". When I told Kate that, she said, "What did you think you were talking about?" And I told her the epidural. "Hmm." she said. Yes, Hmm indeed. I'm not trying to say that I knew what was coming, but I think something in my mother's intuition knew that there was something wrong. Another thing I started remembering is that Dani, our rotweiller mix, wouldn't sleep in our room that night. My parents were in the guest room, and normally when we have guests she puts on a little show when its time to go to bed and sometimes I have to pick up all 80 lbs of her in order to get her in our bedroom. That night, I decided to call it quits early and get some sleep (since everyone had been warning me to sleep that week because after Kaitlyn got here there wouldn't be time to sleep). Since my parents were still up, we let Dani stay out with them and they would usually crack our bedroom door for her to come in where we were. That night, though, Dani wouldn't come in our room at all. She fought my parents the whole way and ultimately won the right to sleep in the guest room with them.
My mom had told me the whole story in the immediate weeks after Kaitlyn. I had told her several times that Dani knew something was wrong because she wouldn't come lay by me anymore. Big dogs always like to sniff crotches, and Dani would do that to me sometimes and then back away growling. At the time, I thought that it was just because she sensed a new little sister in me that would soon be replacing her as the kid in the house. But really, I think its because Dani could sense or smell that Kaitlyn wasn't okay. I don't know if it was a hormone thing or just a dog intuition, and that might just sound crazy, but I think my big protector knew.
When I talked to Kate about all of these new memories, she told me that at week 12(ish) the fog of grief starts to lift and we start to remember things we hadn't remembered before. "You'll start processing things you haven't already worked through."
Is is wrong of me to tell you that I dread it? I don't want to work through more things. I would rather be done grieving, but something tells me I will be grieving in some way for the rest of my life. Which I suppose is the way its suppose to be when you lose a child.
At least until you are reunited for eternity.
12 weeks
12.11.13
Wednesday. Wednesday. 12 weeks. 84 days. 2016 hours. 120,960 minutes since I had held my daughter. It hit me far worse than I could have ever anticipated. 12 weeks. It amazed me how it seemed like an instant and an eternity all at the same time.
I was just barely suppose to be coming back to work. I was suppose to have a newborn and be adjusting to the idea of having to leave her at daycare, not having to leave her in God's arms. I should have been dealing with the annoyance of breast pumping in order to feed her, but instead I had nothing to show for my 9 months of getting fat, pimply, and swollen. I was empty. My stomach had returned almost completely to my pre-pregnancy softness, and all I had was the pink smile below my belly button where she was taken out of me.
It is such an incredibly weird feeling to want to stay in a moment and be away from it at the same time. I wanted so badly to reverse time and go back to those few precious hours that I was able to hold my daughter. I wanted to go back and watch Alex dress her again. I wanted to feel the weight of her in my arms, twirl her hair around my fingers.
Today was the first day that I couldn't really stop the images from returning. I kept reliving that morning in my mind, seeing the images of her still heart on the sonogram screen. Dr. L's eyes welling up with tears as she told me my daughter wasn't there anymore. The sound of my dad's crying, my mom thinking that Alex had been playing a sick joke on her. The absolute panic of my Mom's face coming into the little curtained room at the hospital.
I couldn't make them stop. I spiraled down into a pit of absolute depression. I missed my daughter with every ounce of my being. I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to soothe her when she was cranky.
At the same time of feeling all of these longings for my daughter, I also wanted time to hurry up. I want to have a child with my amazing husband. I am ready to be a Mom (a real Mom, not a heaven Mom). I want to have a child with the quiet strength of my husband and maybe his quirky humor, too. I am so ready for the moment of joy that will come when our next baby comes into this world and we are finally a family of three (or four... God might give us twins). But I have to wait. I have to let my body heal so that I give everything that I can to our next child. I waited for three months after being off birth control to try to have Kaitlyn because I wanted to know that I did everything I could to bring a healthy baby into this world.
And I did. I did absolutely everything that was in my control to bring her into the world successfully. In the beginning, I longed for a reason. I wanted to be able to look back and say, "Oh, I ate sushi, or lunch meat, or drank a 6 pack of beer..." and would know that next time I could fix it. I wanted to have something to change to ensure that this wouldn't happen to me again.
When I initially told Kate that, she said, "Yes, but that also leaves a big space for blame. If you had that reason, you would look to blame yourself for what happened to Kaitlyn. Be thankful that that's not your story." Fair enough, but it's still not easy.
I am struggling every day with this dualing emotion. I miss my daughter more than words can ever express, and no one will ever be able to replace her. But at the same time, I long to be a mom. Wanting time to stop and hurry up all at the same time.
If you haven't figured this out yet, I am a bit of a control freak. I want to help/fix/control every situation and everybody's problems. I am having to give up control of every situation to God. You would think that Kaitlyn's birth would have taught me that, but I am still struggling against it. I would much rather focus on your problems and issues than deal with my own. But that's why I started writing. It forces me to focus on myself and my own healing, and at the same time there is absolutely nothing I can do about it but wait and claim God's promises on my life. I would love to say that it has been a cakewalk, but obviously I still struggle.
All I know is this: God works everything for good. Kaitlyn's short life here on earth was not without purpose. Even this pain that I experience every day is not without purpose. Eventually, I will be able to see it. But for now, I have to be okay with being in this waiting period. My own personal advent season.
Wednesday. Wednesday. 12 weeks. 84 days. 2016 hours. 120,960 minutes since I had held my daughter. It hit me far worse than I could have ever anticipated. 12 weeks. It amazed me how it seemed like an instant and an eternity all at the same time.
I was just barely suppose to be coming back to work. I was suppose to have a newborn and be adjusting to the idea of having to leave her at daycare, not having to leave her in God's arms. I should have been dealing with the annoyance of breast pumping in order to feed her, but instead I had nothing to show for my 9 months of getting fat, pimply, and swollen. I was empty. My stomach had returned almost completely to my pre-pregnancy softness, and all I had was the pink smile below my belly button where she was taken out of me.
It is such an incredibly weird feeling to want to stay in a moment and be away from it at the same time. I wanted so badly to reverse time and go back to those few precious hours that I was able to hold my daughter. I wanted to go back and watch Alex dress her again. I wanted to feel the weight of her in my arms, twirl her hair around my fingers.
Today was the first day that I couldn't really stop the images from returning. I kept reliving that morning in my mind, seeing the images of her still heart on the sonogram screen. Dr. L's eyes welling up with tears as she told me my daughter wasn't there anymore. The sound of my dad's crying, my mom thinking that Alex had been playing a sick joke on her. The absolute panic of my Mom's face coming into the little curtained room at the hospital.
I couldn't make them stop. I spiraled down into a pit of absolute depression. I missed my daughter with every ounce of my being. I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to soothe her when she was cranky.
At the same time of feeling all of these longings for my daughter, I also wanted time to hurry up. I want to have a child with my amazing husband. I am ready to be a Mom (a real Mom, not a heaven Mom). I want to have a child with the quiet strength of my husband and maybe his quirky humor, too. I am so ready for the moment of joy that will come when our next baby comes into this world and we are finally a family of three (or four... God might give us twins). But I have to wait. I have to let my body heal so that I give everything that I can to our next child. I waited for three months after being off birth control to try to have Kaitlyn because I wanted to know that I did everything I could to bring a healthy baby into this world.
And I did. I did absolutely everything that was in my control to bring her into the world successfully. In the beginning, I longed for a reason. I wanted to be able to look back and say, "Oh, I ate sushi, or lunch meat, or drank a 6 pack of beer..." and would know that next time I could fix it. I wanted to have something to change to ensure that this wouldn't happen to me again.
When I initially told Kate that, she said, "Yes, but that also leaves a big space for blame. If you had that reason, you would look to blame yourself for what happened to Kaitlyn. Be thankful that that's not your story." Fair enough, but it's still not easy.
I am struggling every day with this dualing emotion. I miss my daughter more than words can ever express, and no one will ever be able to replace her. But at the same time, I long to be a mom. Wanting time to stop and hurry up all at the same time.
If you haven't figured this out yet, I am a bit of a control freak. I want to help/fix/control every situation and everybody's problems. I am having to give up control of every situation to God. You would think that Kaitlyn's birth would have taught me that, but I am still struggling against it. I would much rather focus on your problems and issues than deal with my own. But that's why I started writing. It forces me to focus on myself and my own healing, and at the same time there is absolutely nothing I can do about it but wait and claim God's promises on my life. I would love to say that it has been a cakewalk, but obviously I still struggle.
All I know is this: God works everything for good. Kaitlyn's short life here on earth was not without purpose. Even this pain that I experience every day is not without purpose. Eventually, I will be able to see it. But for now, I have to be okay with being in this waiting period. My own personal advent season.
Monday, December 9, 2013
Wait for it...
12. 9.13
While we were iced in, I did a lot of reading and blogging. As I was finishing up Girls with Swords, I came across this prayer at the end of the chapter:
Dear Heavenly Father,
I lay my life before you as an act of fealty. I am tired of
fighting from a position of disappointment.
You are faithful to your word, and you love and do all things well.
I surrendered all that I have carried in my own strength.
I give you the timing and ask that you give me your wisdom and words.
I chose to give you all my loyalty and devotion.
Rise me up to heal, rather than harm, in Jesus' name.
Amen.
As I finished reading that prayer, I happened to take a reading break and I logged on to Facebook. I had a message waiting for me there from the wife of an owner of a Crossfit gym in our hometown.
Hi Alex & Amy! I'm Hallye, David of CrossFit FMS's wife. I have been so touched by the loss of your sweet baby & the incredible elegance & grace of which you both have handled it with. For our annual Christmas WOD this year we would like to raise money to donate in honor of your sweet Kaitlyn Sophia. Is there a certain cause you would like for us to donate to, in her name? Or, would there be some unpaid medical bills or other expenses that we could help lighten your load? I feel privileged to know you both, even if it's only via Facebook. Hopefully our CrossFit community can help give you a little something special for Christmas this year.
Again, God was reminding us that we were not being forgotten, and Kaitlyn's memory was going to live on in the hearts of strangers. We coordinated with Hallye (don't you love the spelling of her name?) and we are honored that they wanted to honor Kaitlyn in this way. We decided that we would like the donations to go to Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep, since they provided one of the absolute biggest blessings for us in our time of despair.
Monday morning at work, Kate texted me and asked if we could move our appointment to either Tuesday or Wednesday that week since the ice was still pretty bad. I said no problem, and we rescheduled our visit to Wednesday afternoon.
Friday, December 6, 2013
Icemageddon
12.6.13-12.8.13
This weekend was nutty- the whole city of Dallas basically shut down because there was a huge ice storm that blew through. I hadn't really adequately prepared with food stuff, but it ended up being okay because Alex knew how to navigate the ice so we could sneak out and go to the very few restaurants that were open (read: Chinese food and drive throughs).
I spent most of my time stuck in doors reading and writing on the blog. There is one book that I started reading a few weeks after Kaitlyn died that has become very precious to me: Lisa Bevere's Girls with Swords. I had bought the book in February, but hadn't really read much of it since I was busy changing jobs and being pregnant. I'm going to share a few excerpts of her book with you here (and if Lisa ever stumbles across my blog- please forgive me for the copyright infringement):
This weekend was nutty- the whole city of Dallas basically shut down because there was a huge ice storm that blew through. I hadn't really adequately prepared with food stuff, but it ended up being okay because Alex knew how to navigate the ice so we could sneak out and go to the very few restaurants that were open (read: Chinese food and drive throughs).
I spent most of my time stuck in doors reading and writing on the blog. There is one book that I started reading a few weeks after Kaitlyn died that has become very precious to me: Lisa Bevere's Girls with Swords. I had bought the book in February, but hadn't really read much of it since I was busy changing jobs and being pregnant. I'm going to share a few excerpts of her book with you here (and if Lisa ever stumbles across my blog- please forgive me for the copyright infringement):
- There is no surer way to wound a woman than to attack her children.
- Sound like it fits? Yes, very much.
- I wonder what it might have happened if David had chosen not to kill the lion or the bear... The battles we win in private position us to slay giants in public.
- I have not always been a strong Christian. I have not always been public with my faith. But I have struggled through a lot of instances where I had to work through thoughts and prayers on my own. If I had not come through certain challenges, I'm not sure how I would have handled Kaitlyn's death. Sometimes, we like to downplay the challenges we run into because we don't realize that God is actually giving us a warmup for things coming in the future.
- Sometimes arriving too quickly is detrimental... Proverbs 20:21 warns us that what is gotten quickly is not always blessed in the end.
- Phew. This one still gets me because I am still in this period of waiting. I am waiting for my body to heal to the best "new" body it can be so that we can get pregnant again. I am waiting for the family of three that should have been present. I am waiting for our parenthood to truly start. More will come on this topic later...
- What are the enemy's schemes designed to do? To divide us from God and each other through the isolation tactics of guilt, judgement, shame, and suspicion.
- This one I came across as I learned about a lady in our area who had lost her son in a home birth. Mallie had created a safe group for moms she had taken pictures for to come and share their stories, and this lady joined just a few days after Thanksgiving. She posted, along withe picture of her son, about the guilt she was struggling with about giving birth at home. There are thousands of people out there who are struggling with guilt because of past decisions that have put them in situations that they are now in. But here's the thing: God knows each decision we make and provides His perfect peace for us after the sky falls. Our choice is whether we accept that peace or try to do it on our own (which I am still, and probably will be for a while, struggling with).
- Discernment is about knowing what really is going on so that heroic daughters can turn what others see as a disadvantage into an advantage.
- Bless it, I hope this is me. I want to be a "heroic daughter" and help others see their own potential if they only give up their struggles and turn to God. This was a call to see the bigger picture, much like the first excerpt that I shared. I don't think for an instant that God caused Kaitlyn to die, but instead I believer he allowed it to happen. Which means that He chose not to protect me from Satan's plot to steal me. I wonder how badly it hurt Satan's feelings when I didn't turn from God to give up hope?
- Listening to what other people say about you may cause you to forget who you actually are... Fools will appear to detour you right before you arrive where God wants you.
- Remember those "undesirables" that I said had found the blog that I'd rather not witness to? Let me tell you, for a while there I had a really hard time writing. I was so irritated that my innermost thoughts were being read by someone who I'd rather not read them, and I let myself get roadblocked from writing because I didn't want to give them anymore ammunition. This is a detour that I could have taken. I could have said "Forget it! I will just journal at home and not give anyone else access to my healing!" But I truly, 100% believe that God is going to do something crazy with this blog. As I am writing this, there have been nearly 20,000 (read that: twenty THOUSAND) hits on the blog of people sharing it with others and coming back to read what I have written. It is incredibly humbling to watch that number grow. And the funny thing is, on days that undesirables decide to lash out at me, the number of readers doubles for that day. Funny how Satan tries to get in our head and God still uses it for good.
- If He is with us and He is the same, then He is willing to display on earth all that the Cross purchased.
- Let that sink in for just a minute because it took me a few times of reading it to finally understand it. What this is referring to is that God allows us to face trials with death, disappointment, depression, guilt, sorrow, pride, etc. in order to show His glory. If you are struggling with anything having to do with your character, know that the struggle you face is not only allowed by God, but also will reveal His might and power if you turn to him.
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