Today is March 24th, 2013. I first laid eyes on this date, when I typed my conception date into a due date calculator, when I was just 4 weeks pregnant at the end of July 2012. Never would I have dreamed that on this date, I would open the bag of my daughter's cremation ashes, rubbing just a tiny bit of the fine powdery dust between my fingers in an effort to feel nearer to her. I am in the middle of the most nightmarish storm I have yet undertaken in this life. I want to go back to the innocence of never knowing the pain of losing a child. I want to go back to when due dates were happy days. I want to have my pregnancy innocence back. These desires will not be granted, and I don't know why. But I move ahead, choosing to trust Him in this storm.
When I got up in front at Abbie's service and spoke of the impact of her brief life, I talked about how I have prayed the same words about each of my three children, "God, please don't take this child from me." I spoke of how His answer was "yes" with Isabel, "yes" with Josiah, and "no" with Abbie. I often play the series of events leading up to her birth and death over and over again in my mind, and I feel like my brain, soul, and spirit is being wrenched between two opposing and fiercely strong winds. Each is like a gale, whipping at my body, threatening to pull me off my feet, forcing me to completely surrender to the sheer power of it. The first gale is the absolute, unwavering assurance that God is good. He is good all the time, even when I don't understand Him, even when I sit on my couch for hours, unable to stop crying, months after the death of my child. The opposing gale is the one that wants to drag me down into the endless depths of the question "WHY?!?!" I still feel myself asking this question multiple times a day. Do I believe her life will have a legacy, a meaning, a purpose? Yes. But I struggle with the question of "Why?" because I don't yet quite know exactly what that legacy will be. I don't know how her life will touch others lives just yet. And that's hard for me, to not have it all lined up in a neat little row, to make some sense out of the chaos. I know I want to join with other grieving mothers that I have met on this journey to help break the deafening silence around child loss. And I know I want our story to help spread the balm of Jesus' love to other hurting hearts. I don't know exactly how or when this will take shape. But I am waking up each day and living my life, the best I can, for my family here on earth and for my beloved daughter in heaven. It is all I can do, for now.
Were her eyes blue? Surely they were behind her closed lids, but would they have stayed that way as she grew?
Would she have had platinum blond hair like her brother, or darker blond hair like her sister?
Would she have been a petite child like our other two?
Would she have been a feisty baby like Isabel, requiring lots of attention, or a more mellow one like Josiah who was mostly content to go with the flow and watch the world go by?
Would she have been a good nurser?
What would her giggle sound like?
What would have been her first word?
What would have been her favorite color? Favorite food? Favorite toy? Favorite movie?
Would she have been bright like the other two, learning her ABCs, colors, counting, and letters earlier than average?
Would she have been a tough little girl? I think she would have been, because she was really tough in the womb, hanging on for many weeks in an inhospitable environment.
Would she have had a love-hate relationship with Ginger like the other two?
Would she have joined her sister in gymnastics and ballet, looking up to her as she learned new things in each?
Who would have been her best friend?
What kind of student would she have been when she joined our other kids at their private school?
What color would she have chosen for her prom dress?
What style of wedding dress would she have worn?
Who would she have married?
What would have been the look on her face as she handed me her own child to hold for the first time?
All these questions and more, every day. I miss her.
Sometimes as a blogger, a thought will hit me that I feel I should share on my blog, but often times I don't because I don't feel I have enough other "stuff" to share to make the blog entry worthwhile. I am going to try, with this blog, to get out of that trap. This journey of grief is so winding and unpredictable, that often times the thoughts and insights come in tiny chunks, itty-bitty but impactful, you might say very much like our precious baby girl Abbie who weighed less than one pound, but whose impact has been weighty.
So, for tonight, here is my thought:
I do not even begin to understand the WHY of what happened, but I am comforted even in my gripping pain, because I know the WHO that is holding Abbie even now. My Savior, Jesus Christ, saved my life so completely, when I was 19 years old, and in so doing, He saved my life once again as I journey through the tragic and unexpected loss of my daughter. I do not know how I would handle this without having Him to lean on. His power is made known in my weakness. Come Lord Jesus. Engulf me in your arms, along with every other grieving mother on this planet. Only You will someday make sense of all this mess, and make it right and whole.
This evening around 9:30, I was passing through the hallway upstairs and heard Isabel crying very quietly in her room. Her door was open, but she was crying so quietly that I could barely hear her. I stopped in her doorway as my eyes adjusted to the darkness and focused on her small frame in the bed across the room. She was lying very still on her back, with small sobs escaping her every few seconds. Isabel is a spirited and dramatic young girl, and usually when she cries, it is pretty loud and attention-getting in a way. But tonight, it was as if she didn't even realize anyone could hear her, and was trying to stay as quiet as possible.
So, of course, I padded quietly into her bedroom, knelt by her bed, and placed my hands on her gently. Her eyes were closed, so I was not certain at first if she was even awake. But after a few seconds passed, she opened her eyes partway. She had not yet uttered a word to me, and was still crying. I whispered, "What's wrong, sweetie?" To which she replied, in the sweetest little girl voice, "I miss baby Abbie," and continued to cry quietly. I had no words, and leaned down and gathered her into an embrace, wishing I could take her pain away, wishing I could give her the sister she so desperately wants to have back. We had a quiet conversation after that, and a short while later I tucked her back into bed and wished her sweet dreams and a peaceful night's sleep.
Oh my. Talk about melting my heart and breaking my heart in two, all at the same time. I am watching my oldest child grieve for my youngest child. I want to take away Isabel's sadness, and it is just one more reason, among so many, that I wish more than anything that I could bring Abbie back to this world. But I can't, and so for now, I will dry my child's tears and hug her tightly every chance that I get. But even while I dry her tears and hold her close, I look forward to the day when I will watch my daughters embrace one another, on streets of gold, and there will be no more tears of sadness in any of our eyes, and no quiet sobs escaping any of our lips.
On Saturday December 8th, twelve days after Abigaile Grace was born, our family was honored by a service that could not have been more perfect to honor and remember Abbie's brief life. We were blessed by about 100 people in attendance, and felt incredibly surrounded by so much love, comfort, and support from our family, friends, church, and community. I also am aware of several who wanted to attend but could not, due to distance or other conflicts that day. Therefore, I felt led to create as close of a simulation of the service as possible on Abbie's blog.
Abbie was dressed in a beautiful gown and hat (that were beautifully made by our wonderful next-door neighbor Kat Ryan, who is extremely gifted with a sewing machine), and laid on a soft, cuddly pink blanket that I had found for her to be cozily laid on. Inside the casket with her were a white teddy bear with a purple ribbon, a heart-shaped pillow, and a tiny heart-shaped necklace, of which I have a matching heart necklace that fits perfectly around the outside of Abbie's. These last three items were gifts from the wonderful NICU staff at Children's Hospital.
God is truly in the details - the day before the service, a gorgeous lavender blanket arrived, that Abbie's aunt Jess had ordered. It had been embroidered with "Abigaile Grace, 11-26-12, Loved and Cherished." We brought the blanket along with us to the service, thinking we would have it up front somehow along with Abbie's casket, photo, and flowers. We handed it to the funeral director when we arrived at church, and while we were greeting guests and not giving him any direction whatsoever, he went up and draped it carefully over the casket. It took my breath away when I walked into the room and saw how beautifully our little girl's memorial was displayed in the church. The blanket was literally the exact perfect size, and really made the casket seem much more warm and cozy, perfect for a tiny precious child. The color of the blanket also exactly matched the ribbons (which say "Daughter" and "Sister") that the florist had chosen to be wrapped around our floral bouquets. The canvas photo to the left was an incredible gift that was given to us by the organization Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep and the gentle and talented photographer Stacey Buckett from Buckett Photography.
The other priceless gift that was given to us by the photographer was a slideshow of the photos she had taken of Abbie with us in the hospital. The service was closed casket, so the wonderful staff at Hosanna! was able to take this slideshow and have it playing during the public visitation. This was important to me because I knew it would give so many beloved family members and friends a way to see Abbie at the service despite it being closed casket. The slideshow moved me to tears when I first watched it (in the privacy of my own living room!) and I know it moved many others to tears at the service as well. What a beautiful gift that our family will treasure for years to come. You can watch the slideshow here: Baby Abbie.
And lastly, I have included below an audio-recording of the service, that Hosanna's tech team blessed us with. The service was incredibly moving and powerful for our family and I know for many others in attendance. While we would give anything to have our beloved second daughter back with us on this earth, we were so honored by the way in which her short life was so beautifully celebrated, and many times during the service I envisioned her cooing happily in the arms of Jesus. We never heard her voice here, but I cannot wait for the joy I will be filled with when I hear it for the first time, someday when we meet again.
The service was about 50 minutes long and I have split it into 11 tracks. Click on each photo below to listen to each audio track. If you don't have time to listen to the entire thing, I would encourage you to listen to Pastor Ryan Alexander's welcome and opening prayer, and also his message. God's love, grace, truth, and promise are truly present in the message. We are so thankful to have Ryan as one of our pastors at Hosanna! May God continue to use him mightily for His service. And may God continue to use the short, sweet life of Abbie, to draw others closer into His arms, where Abbie is resting today.
During the past few weeks I have been spending a lot of time with Jesus, alone, in quietness, reflecting on our journey with the birth and loss of Abbie. I felt the Lord calling me to do this, to turn to the One who can heal my hurts, dry my tears, and help me to move forward from here. I am blessed with many weeks off of work right now for my physical recovery from the surgery, and have heard God's voice telling me to use this precious time to focus on emotional and spiritual recovery as well. So I have been obedient, and have seen the fruits of this disciplined focus, time and time again over these weeks.
Early in this time of reflection. I was listening to Christmas music on Pandora while sitting in a Caribou Coffee, spending time in God's Word and also working on some updates to this blog. The song by BarlowGirl, "Hallelujah, Light Has Come" came on, and stopped me from everything I was doing. The song is sung in the virgin Mary's voice, singing to her newborn son Jesus who will save the world. However, many of the lyrics resonated with me about Abbie's short life also. I chose to write this post on the day I heard the song, but not to publish it until Christmas morning, as we celebrate the One who came into the world to save us all.
The prayer of my heart continues to be that our precious baby, Abigaile Grace, will truly be her Father's joy, in pointing as many as possible to the Savior of the world, who came to us so long ago as the most precious Baby of all. Both of their lives were short on this earth but their impact has been far-reaching.
Though I still don't understand the full purpose of why her life had to
be so brief, I believe that heaven sent her to me, just as heaven sent
Jesus to his mother Mary and to each one of us. I look forward to the
day when I will see my beloved daughter again and when I will understand
fully, as I am sure Mary did when she arrived in heaven to greet once
again her beloved Son.
Peace and joy to each of you this Christmas - may you experience the true presence of Jesus, the Light who has come.
Five years ago today, I became a mother to my first daughter, Isabel Noelle.
Four weeks ago today, I became a mother to my second daughter, Abigaile Grace.
It's incredible the waves of emotions that I go through right now on a daily basis. Last Friday I was driving birthday treats to Isabel's school to share with her classmates, and when I was about ten minutes away from the school, I could barely fight back the tears. I was thinking about how I can't believe how fast the past five years have flown by, and how I would not trade a single day I have had with the incredible privilege of mothering my children. I was also thinking how sad I was that I would never be sending birthday treats to a school class for Abbie.
Birthdays have a new meaning for me all of a sudden. Life is so precious, and can be taken from us in an instant, so I feel we need to truly celebrate when one of our loved ones reaches another birthday. So today, we celebrate our firstborn, even while we still mourn the loss of our youngest. Isabel has blessed our lives many times over, and I am so incredibly grateful for her life.
Isabel loves being a big sister, and she is just tickled right now anytime she sees a baby. I am thankful for the short time she had with Abbie, and for the daily experiences she has being a big sister to Josiah.
Happy 5th birthday Isabel! We are going to make your day as special as we possibly can, and I am sure your baby sister is smiling down on you from above today.
