Don't cry because it's over

The last few weeks have been very emotional for me.

We chose Gideon's grave marker, finally.  I will post a picture in a few weeks once it's finally done and set and in the ground.  It took us a while to make it happen, mostly just because we hadn't set aside the time to go down to the cemetery to meet with the people who run things, and make a decision.  It was hard to be there.  It's obvious that I won't see him again for a while, but how do you sum up a life on a grave marker?  How does anyone sum up a life on a grave marker, it's got a beginning date, and and ending date and a dash.  Everything happens in that dash of life, for all of us.  For him, it really was a short little dash...

Memorial Day is a new and different experience when someone close to you has passed, and there is so much focus on remembering.  I remember anyway, and I can't explain why there is a heavier weight around Memorial Day, or around holidays.  I think somewhat they are a family time, and so I'm keenly aware of his absence.  The cemetery is a peaceful place, but it makes my heart ache to hold my little guy again whenever I am there.  He's so close, but so far away when I am standing on the ground above where he is buried.

My 12 year old is graduating from elementary school.  He was blessed with the same teacher two years in a row, and she was also able to teach my 9 year old this year, and she has been a sweet support to our family both these last two years.  I was pregnant at the end of last school year, and lost our baby over the summer. I am pregnant again this year--it feels a little bit surreal.  She was ready, and helped the other teachers to be ready to understand if my boys got emotional at school, and to encourage them to be their best self, despite the hurdle they had to overcome 11 days before their school year started.  My kids have all had amazing teachers, both in church and at school, and I feel like they have been an answer to prayers.  Our family has really needed and been very strengthened by the support we have had from so many wonderful people, but especially the teachers in our lives.  Sunday School teachers, Priesthood and Relief Society teachers, Primary teachers, and school teachers.  I feel a little sad to see the school year ending.  I don't like endings, even though deep down, I know every ending is just a new beginning.

At the "graduation" assembly yesterday, Ethan's teacher quoted this saying, which I've heard before, but it really touched my heart.  "Don't cry because it's over.  Smile because it happened."  Me--I'll probably do a lot of both, especially being pregnant.  I am proud of my children and have enjoyed seeing the progress they make.  They are growing in personality and ability, becoming better at reading, writing, math, problem solving, and I love being their mother and watching them grow.  This comes with the weight of what I will miss with Gideon, and those special moments are tinged with a hint of sadness because I wish he was still here and "in line" to have his turn with those moments too.  He'd be 9 months old on Memorial Day.

The Chase family "baby birthdays" have begun.  Gideon was one of several cousins born last summer.  A few had their birthdays this spring.  More birthdays will come.  I'm happy to see my nieces and nephews growing, and in many ways, being around these tiny people is therapeutic to my soul.  Still, I sure wish mine was here to celebrate his birthday in a few months too.

Some of the emotions of late aren't sad--in fact I have also been super excited and happy.  I feel like the baby I am currently expecting is a baby that so many people already love and are excited for--I think there are literally hundreds of people who have expressed excitement and joy with us as they can see my growing belly, and as they ask if things are well with us, I can tell they truly are hopeful that this baby will be happy and healthy.  It's a little sad that many mothers don't get to experience people being super excited with them if or when they are pregnant with their 6th child--it's often met with a snarky comment.  I am blessed that so many people are rejoicing with us that we are expecting another baby, who looks really healthy in her ultrasounds.  I have felt so much joy emanating from so many friends and family members who care about us and our family, and I am grateful.

And then there's the rain again.  I posted about rain last fall.  In April, we began praying for rain, as we had very little precipitation all winter long, and live in a desert.  We have to have had 5 inches of rain in the last 3 weeks. (Really, my son made a rain gauge in cub scouts, and we've measured at least 5 inches of rain.)  It's been such a rainy May.  It is much like our rainy stint last summer during the week where Gideon and I were in the hospital, and the few weeks after.  There are a lot of memories of running out of the hospital parking lot in a downpour, of driving there in Scott's little car (with no working A/C) and being grateful for the cooler rainy weather, of feeling like God watered our garden for us when I was too busy with caring for myself and my baby and my other children to worry about the garden.  As I was driving home in the rain one day, I remembered a lesson someone taught me years ago about trying to run away from God's blessings.  She compared it to running around in a rain storm and trying not to get wet.  It just doesn't work.  He rains blessings down on us, even if we think we don't deserve them, and we try to run for cover, we still end up soaked with his blessings.  And I feel like I've totally been rained on.

I am excited, and a little nervous to see what this summer will bring.  The last school year has been the hardest one of my life, but I have seen beautiful growth in my family, which is reason to both to cry and smile.


  

Daily habits: brushing teeth and scripture study

I have this bizarre gift to find parables in every day life, to be struck by spiritual lessons in the most ordinary of circumstances, especially as a mother.  Sometimes an every day, run of the mill moment (like arguing with my child about whether they like dinner), inspires a dawning realization, a lesson that I learn from and take with me for years.  I truly do feel it is a gift, albeit a strange one.  Some time I'll have to write down my epiphanies on boogers, dehydration, and playdoh.

A few years ago, I was in a slump on scripture reading, and recommitted to daily study again.  I came to the end of the day, as I was preparing for bed, and realized I hadn't read yet.  I decided to multi-task (I LOVE finding ways to combine tasks) and read my scriptures as I was brushing my teeth.  I have NO idea what I read that night, but after reading a very short time, my spirit had an "a-ha moment".   In that profound moment, I realized how alike brushing my teeth every day and reading my scriptures every day actually are.

Let it be truthfully declared that I am not as diligent at daily prayer and scripture study as I should be, even after Gideon's passing, although it has provided me with additional motivation to be my very best self, as he's an angel in heaven, and I have a long way to go to be that celestial.  I want to be better, and grow to be the person God sees when he looks at me.  I don't exactly know who that is, but I glimpse her here and there in my deeper spiritual moments.  Like most people, my daily habits are sometimes very diligent, and sometimes not so much (envision a person trying to learn to drive a vehicle with a stick shift--there's a lot of lurching forward and stalling.)

You know how on a day when you've eaten a lot of candy, your teeth start to feel pretty grimy by the end of the day?  It feels really good to brush that all off and start over clean, to get the gunk off and feel my real mouth again.  Only if I am really sick do I ever say to myself "I am just too tired to brush my teeth tonight."  And even if I am sick, I don't ever miss 2 full days in a row, it is disturbing to even think about.

Daily prayer and scripture study do that for my soul each day.  I am more mindful of it in the last few months than I was even before, as I need that daily dose of perspective to keep me going, to help me have the faith that I will have answers and be with Gideon one day, that God does indeed hear and answer my prayers.  When I go a day without reading my scriptures, it's like the gunk has built up--all the heaviness and confusion of a busy life in a mixed up world just sticks, and I don't feel like me.  When I study my scriptures and pray, I am able to start fresh, feel my real self again.  I am happier, I am able to shed off the grumpy, less patient me, and become closer to the person I know I can be.  Only it's way too easy for me to tell myself "I am just too tired to read my scriptures tonight." and then sometimes to miss a few days in a row.  I know I need to do better, that it should be just as appalling to me to skip my scripture reading as to skip brushing my teeth: one is a physical need, the other is a spiritual need, truly a need, not just a nicety.

The analogy can go further--go too long without brushing and teeth begin to decay, cavities form.  Go too long without reading scriptures, and faith (and my kindness and patience) begins to dwindle.  Still a problem that can be solved, but it takes more effort to have a cavity filled or regain knowledge and/or a testimony and to get back into the habit of not losing a temper.  Having cavities filled or teeth crowned comes at a high cost.  So does losing a testimony.  Preventative maintenance does require daily effort, but it's worth it.  (Plus fresh breath and a happy attitude are much nicer to be around for those who have to be near me.)

I have a few favorite places to read in my scriptures: In the Book of Mormon, I love Ether 12, Moroni 7, 2 Nephi chapter 4, and 3 Nephi chapters 11-17.  I love and enjoy much of Proverbs (especially chapter 3), and Psalms a lot.  I also love Phillipians 4 and Ephesians 4, 5, and 6, but I have been loving reading in James lately.  I love how he talks about DOING and not just believing. about how powerful the tongue can be, about being submissive to the Lord.  When I haven't known what to read lately, that's where I go.  Sometimes, I study out a topic (like controlling one's temper or being happy or finding faith), but when I don't, I just go to my old favorites and they give me that daily fresh start.  I love finding the perspective I need to prevent spiritual cavities, and to help remind myself how to become that person I hope to be one day.

Newness of life

I often think about things I wish Gideon was able to experience with me or with our family.  I wish he could be seeing all the flowers bloom, and crawling around on the grass for the first time.  I wish I could have handed him an Easter egg this year, and that I could be watching him try different foods for the first time.  I have begun to look at the world with different eyes as a result.  

I truly have a strong hope in the resurrection, that he will get the chance to live and experience life as I have.  I catch myself enjoying snowflakes, bubbles, the feel of water on my skin, the taste of my favorite foods, and the smell of rain more often as I think forward to things I want to share with Gideon.  I find that the hope and faith has given me a sense of newness of life (like is mentioned in Romans 6:4).  There is glory and beauty to be found here on earth, and I am happy to be able to enjoy it.  I have found relief from the pain of all I am missing through taking more moments to enjoy the things I truly treasure, and putting them on a mental list of things I hope to share one day with him.

I do miss him, and I still do not understand why his life was so short, why he had to miss out on so many things.  He only ever saw the hospital--

he missed out on much of the world.  I went to the cemetery today and put flowers on his grave, and found myself reacquainted with that feeling that part of my heart is buried there.  I left holding back tears, and marveling at how strong that grief can still feel.  I don't know if that feeling will ever go away, and do you know what?  I am OK if it doesn't.  I love and miss my little boy, and I don't think I will stop loving or missing him, so that feeling will probably just be there for the rest of my life.  I don't think I'll ever stop wondering how he would have reacted to his first snowstorm, to his first taste of bananas, to ice cream, to playing in the rain until I have been able to see it.  

In the meantime, I am trying to find an appreciation for all the amazing experiences I am being blessed with: family, friendships, hugs, good food, learning, the colors and landscapes to be seen in the world, the way I feel when music touches my heart--I am glad that I will be able to share them one day with Gideon, but I am also glad to be able to share them now with my loved ones.

I was thinking today--if this was my first day of life, what would I cherish most?  Seeing in color?  Eating?  Good music and time with my family?  I don't think I could rank my favorite things, but it was a good thought to have on a day when I was going to visit Gideon's grave.  Cemeteries are such sad places in some ways--so many reminders of what was, or what could be, of loved ones who are no longer with us.  Today, though, besides the sad, my thoughts helped me be grateful for life, and for those things which I treasure most.  Despite the grief that walks with me, there is also much more "walking in newness of life" as my testimony of the resurrection has grown stronger and my hope in it burns brighter.  I am grateful for the Savior, and that through him, this grief does not have to drown me, and that my hope in the resurrection allows me to appreciate the treasures and beauties all around me.

I have shared my feelings surrounding the story of when the Savior calmed the tempest.  There was another time when Jesus was on Galilee in somewhat stormy weather, walking on the water, and Peter wanted to experience it too.  Peter was actually making it happen--walking on the water, when the big waves distracted him and he became afraid and began to drown.  He called out to the Savior to help him, and instead of calming the waves (which He could have), he took Peter by the hand and helped him have confidence in his faith, to continue walking along despite the storm raging around him.  I am no Peter--I don't have that kind of faith.  I do, however, feel that sometimes, the Savior takes me by the hand even in the middle of my grief, and helps me to redirect my faith back to him, so that I can keep walking despite the high waves, which truly is a miracle.  As that overwhelming grief surrounded me at Gideon's grave site, I wondered a little about how I have been able to live life for the last months, but then I also remembered how much I am looking forward to sharing things with him when he's resurrected.  The Savior makes that possible, and as I experience those overwhelmed, terrifying moments, I can reach out to him, and he helps me keep walking, even as the storm rages on.

Being grateful for a heavy load

A few years ago, when we were living in a ground level apartment, and had just one little toddler, our apartment flooded.  The drain backed up into our kitchen, and filled much of the apartment with about 1 and a half inches of disgusting water.  Ironically, at the time, Scott and I were teaching the Nursery class in church, and the lesson for the Sunday after our flood was about being thankful for water.  Even to little 2 year olds, I knew I could not tell them I was grateful if I wasn't truly feeling it--being honest is really important to me.  I remember thinking that Heavenly Father was getting a good laugh out of that.  Somehow, I managed to still be grateful for water, even in the midst of feeling like I was frustrated by it, and was able to teach the sweet children about God's creation of the world, and how blessed we are by water.

I feel similar feelings lately.  It has been a while (probably months) since I dusted off my piano and cleaned the pictures of my children sitting on top of it.  Yesterday, I cleaned them all, and was surprised at how emotional I was when I picked up Gideon's little picture and cleaned it off.  I wanted so much to be holding him, and not just a picture of him, and I was taken aback at how I instantly had to suck in my tears.

 Some days, the flood of pain is still there, the memories are overwhelming, and I just wish he were here with our family where I could see, hear, and feel him.  I still dream of him at night sometimes, and I definitely hurt plenty often.  I can see that I am learning from what has happened, the way that losing my son has deepened my perspective and understanding and appreciation of humanity, as well as becoming more keenly aware of the gift of life.  I am grateful for the tender moments I did have with him, the brief times I got to sing to him and look into his eyes, and for the few memories my other children have of him.  I know they have also grown from the experience, in some ways, especially for my 9 and 12 year old, it made them grow up a little too fast.  (So tender--when we watched Big Hero 6, they cried.  They know how it feels to lose someone close to you, and they were much more emotionally moved than they would have been.)

I do feel grateful for the gift of Gideon's short life, and for the strong feeling that this life is NOT the end of our existence.  I am so grateful for the knowledge in my heart that God answers prayers, even though everything did not work out just as I wanted it to with Gideon.  I still truly felt that God listened, and that's why we had any time with him at all.  I also truly feel that I will have more answers one day.

Elder David A. Bednar explained a story of a man who drove his truck into the back country to get fire wood, then got stuck (even with 4 wheel drive), and then he loaded the truck with wood anyway and managed to get out.  He drew a beautiful parallel about how sometimes the load makes the difference.  Loads give us traction, and can help us to move forward when we need.  I have felt this load make an immense difference in my life.  Each of my children is more dear to me.  My time on earth is more precious.  Love is a cherished treasure, and love that is reciprocated is beyond measure.  The load is still heavy, and it's still not fun to carry around, but as hindsight continues to improve my vision, I can see how far I have come, and how much my family has learned from carrying the load.

 It feels like being grateful for water, even when I'm in the middle of a flood.

What are you looking for?

A few weeks before the entire pregnancy with Gideon exploded into a whirlwind of bad news, early delivery, and the loss of our baby, I watched Pollyanna with my kids.  I am SO glad that I did, because the "glad game" became a lifesaver for me.  I found reasons to be happy in the situation, even though I was still sad too.

I have reflected much on my life, and about point of view since that time.  I am VERY aware that a person can be happy and sad, and the mixed flavors of my emotions have added new dimensions into my life.  I am grateful for the perspective, even though getting there has not been fun.  There are moments when the pain sneaks up on me and I still have overwhelmed moments.  In some ways, they are not as frequent as when he first passed away, but I think they have gotten more stealthy and potent, especially as time has gone on.  He was born July 25, he would have been 9 months old on April 25th.  He was born premature, so he would have possibly only acted like a 6 or 7 month old developmentally, but still, I know there are milestones he would have reached by now.  I would have been able to feed him solid foods, and watch him make faces and so much mess.  I miss that.  Even my 4 year old has enough knowledge and understanding to realize "Mom, we never got to hear how Gideon's voice would sound.  Are you sad for Gideon?" 

All the same, I have been able to find reasons to be happy, because I am looking for them.  I am searching to find God in all of this, to find perspective, and I am finding it.  I have felt guided and inspired at the words to explain to my children when they ask questions.  I have had scriptures and hymns come to my mind to bring me comfort when I needed it.  My spirit and mind have been strengthened with a sensitivity to truth, I feel it deeper now than ever before.  My hope and faith in God's plan for Earth and for his children have grown immensely, and I am trying harder to trust him because I truly know he has all the answers.

I have tried to find scriptures to help me express this.  Here is one from Doctrine and Covenants 98 verses 1,2, & 3.  (Doctrine and Covenants is a transcription of various revelations given to Joseph Smith and a few other prophets.  Many times, when reading scripture or encountering a problem, Joseph (or other prophets) would go to the Lord and ask for counsel.  They recorded and later shared the words and revelations given.)  "Verily, I say unto you my friends, fear not, let your hearts be comforted; yea, rejoice evermore and in everything give thanks; waiting patiently on the Lord, for your prayers have entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth, and are recorded with this seal and testament--the Lord hath sworn and decreed that they shall be granted.  Therefore, he giveth this promise to you, that they shall all be fulfilled; and all things wherewith ye have been afflicted shall work together for your good, and to my name's glory, saith the Lord."


I love the promises there, and they feel true to me.  I have searched for comfort and found it in truth.  Earth did not "spontaneously" exist--it has a creator.  He loves his creations and wants us to grow and progress, to become all we can be.  He had a plan for us to be able to do just that, and it involves the creation of families that can last forever.  Death, sadness, sickness, and wickedness exist in this world because he allows us and others to make choices, and because with that opposition, we are learning how good it will be to NOT have those things in the world one day.  If we had a life where everything was perfect, but we could not make choices for ourselves, we never would have learned or appreciated all that goodness can offer us.  I truly feel that our spirits existed before we were here, and that they continue to exist after.  There will be a resurrection, and we will get to experience that perfection--a body that will no longer be sick and die, and we will get to experience life with no wickedness and evil.  I do not have to fear, my heart takes comfort in this plan, and though it takes patience to wait for the plan to be unfolded, I am promised that God heard my prayers for Gideon's life.  I am grateful to know that those prayers mattered--that they just "didn't count" because they weren't meant to be.  God records them, the Lord has a plan to answer those prayers, and it will be a sweet joy to be with my son again one day.

I digress--this post wasn't intended to be my witness of God's plan, though that is part of what I have seen as I have looked for a broader perspective.  I have been thinking about how we find what it is that we are looking for.  If I choose to look for reasons why this is unfair, I can find them.  It is a slippery slope, one that I have tried mostly to avoid, because it hurts more than finding the growth, love, and learning I am experiencing because of what has happened.  I could find reasons to be angry, not just with God, but with my husband, with my children.  I could find ways to blame this problem on many: doctors, nurses, medications, my kids who stress me out sometimes, my husband who was very tentative about another baby, and until we knew we were losing him, didn't realize how much he loved our little guy.  I COULD let this destroy who I am. 

If you look back at my posts, you will even see that there are times I have been offended when well meaning people have asked questions like "Do you feel like you are getting over it?"  The offense is unintentional, and it is what I am looking for that makes the difference.  If I want to be upset and hurt, then I have a reason.  If I want to see that someone is wondering if I am healing and finding ways to go on with life, then I have a reason.  I am trying to look for the good and kind intentions, which eliminates most offense I would ever take.

My thoughts about "what am I looking for?" have spread to other aspects of my life.  I have begun to see that everyone sees what they are looking for.  People disagree about who should lead our country, about different laws that are passed or are being considered, and are very polarized about many issues.  We see what we are looking for, and so very rarely do we attempt to look at things by taking a step back and seeing both sides of the issue, or even more amazing step back would be trying to see what God and Satan might see of the issue.  We get offended over meaningless things, because we are looking to be offended.

I have seen great and bad things come from the feminist movement.  I have seen great and bad things come from the LGBT movement.  I have seen great and bad things come from people who are preaching religion, and from those who are listening to it.  Technology is amazing, but it has the power to transmit evil into everyone's hands.  Anti-vaccination movements are lately causing quite a stir.  Are any of these inherently evil?  No. 

I know people who are very polarized on any and all of these issues.  I love you all, and I honestly think that since Gideon's death, I am able to love you all even more.  Out of necessity, I have needed to take a step back from a "right here, right now" perspective and tried to look at things from a broader perspective.  That is what has enabled me NOT to search only for reasons why this is unfair and reasons to be angry or offended.  Because of that step back, I am seeing more perspective on both sides of so many issues.  I sometimes find it very enlightening, and sometimes confusing, as I think most times, the truth lies somewhere in the middle of the polar opposites, or in some broader understanding that our human and mortal selves do not see.  There is more to almost every story, a depth to each truth that we do not see or understand always.  I want to see and understand more, to be able to step back farther and examine many things from both sides.  My mortality limits this to some extent, but I am amazed at what keeping an open mind does for one's perspective.  (And I highly recommend that more people do it.)

In multiple scriptures, we are commanded to "Judge not, that ye be not judged."  We are also given commandments, requirements, and recommendations on how to live our lives in the best way.  It is sometimes a tricky balance to live a life trying diligently to keep the commandments, and also to not judge those who may not be making those same choices.  Judging comes very easily to most of us as mortals--it's probably why we have to be told so many times "judge not".  People are always judging others, people driving faster than they are, people driving slower than they are, people who support gay marriage, people who oppose gay marriage, people who believe vaccines are unsafe.  Everybody has a tendency to judge.  Don't.  Don't.  Don't.  We don't see it all.  We can't see it all.  We don't have to see it all, and truly, we'd probably be overwhelmed by being able to see it all. 

God sees it all.   He looks at our hearts, our motives, our choices, and knows.  He knows if we were trying to offend someone, if we were choosing selfishly, or if our actions were misguided or even an attempt at something good.  Just as His plan is perfect, and will allow me to be with my son again one day, the chance to grow into the best person I can be as I learn from tragedy, sickness, and death, His judgement is perfect.  His thoughts are higher than our thoughts, and His ways are higher than our ways.  (Isaiah 55:8)  As I have asked him for perspective, I have grown in the ability to see multiple sides to each issue, in the ability to love people on both sides.  I believe that it is a part of my journey to learn to understand people, and to love people, and I believe God is helping me to find what I am looking for.

John 7:17 and chopsticks

I have a bizarre gift at finding similarities between simple everyday things and the way we are to understand things on a deeper spiritual plane.  This week, it came as I watched my children attempt to use chopsticks for the first time.

Let it be said now that I am no master of chopsticks.  I have marveled that anyone is able to make regular use of them, and I would love to be better at using them, but I simply have not put in the time and effort to learn, and the learning curve has never really been worth it to me, when a fork, spoon, and knife are so readily available most of the time.

I was reading in the Bible this week, and came upon John 7:17 (again.) "If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself."  I have been familiar with this verse for many years, but it hit me in a new way as I compared it to chopsticks.  My oldest son was trying to show my other children how simple chopsticks would be, based on the instructions on the outside of the package.  A few simple steps, right?  I smiled to myself, knowing that the results are not as easy to achieve as they are to read about.  And then it hit me.

Results in life are not nearly as easy to achieve as they are to read about.  It's not really too hard to read scriptures, to hear words of counsel from someone, but it's a whole new game when you have to put them into action and get good at them.  You can't know understand how chopsticks work just by looking at a package, or by googling the instructions, or by watching someone else use them, anymore than you can learn to play the piano by reading about it or watching an accomplished concert pianist perform. 

Putting it into action is what yields understanding, but not always immediately.  There is a learning curve, and sometimes we grow impatient with that learning curve and decide it isn't really worth it, and go back to our proverbial knife, fork, and spoon.  We like familiarity, even if it doesn't always lend itself to our skill set and broaden our horizons.

I am probably not going to spend the required amount of time to become an amazing chopstick user.  I may give it a more honest shot on occasion, but it's truly not a high priority to me.  However, I am going to try to be more dedicated to putting God's word to the test in my life, rather than giving up after a few futile attempts and deciding I just wasn't meant to obey those commandments.  Gaining a testimony of his love, of his knowledge of me, and that his plan for his children brings happiness is probably worth a lot more to me than the use of chopsticks is, and consequently, the learning curve will probably be a little harder.  Skills and knowledge don't come without a learning curve, without time and effort, and persistence.

I think it's time to put down the fork, and take more leaps of faith.

Happy mash up

On the day we did our ultrasound, we were able to meet with the same doctor who referred us to the University of Utah hospital after an ultrasound he had performed.  He had recognized that Gideon's problem had gotten very serious, and knew our baby was going to need specialists after delivery.  He also suspected that they would need to deliver him early, to attempt saving his life.  He asked if we minded telling him the "rest" of the story.  He knew from my medical file that we had lost our son, and that we were in a new pregnancy.  In many ways, it was a great segue into the ultrasound of our coming daughter.  Telling him what happened with Gideon, about the warnings we got from the genetic counselors at U of U, hearing his reassurances that, though our chances of seeing this problem were increased as compared with "normal" couples, they were still only 2-3 %, and then experiencing the conclusion--an ultrasound showing a very normally developing daughter, made the experience one full of emotion.  I feel happy and sad, excited and a little bit guilty for being so excited, because I know if Gideon had been healthy, we wouldn't be having this baby, and I hope he knows that we love him just as much, even though he was not a healthy little guy.

I appreciated our doctor and the ultrasound tech who did the initial ultrasound taking extra time to look and measure, to explain every little thing.  I know how to look for pockets of fluid now (had a little practice recognizing them with Gideon) and the tech was great about saying things like "There's a perfectly normal pocket of fluid in the developing brain."  They offered to do more ultrasounds, just for our reassurance and peace of mind, even though medically there are no flags that indicate she will need further ultrasounds.  I appreciated their consideration of my feelings and understanding how panicky and paranoid mothers can get after they have gone through a tragedy like ours.  My own OBGYN has also been stupendous at reassuring me, doing ultrasounds every time, and will be doing an ultrasound each time going forward, for my own comfort, so I can see her moving and growing and so I will have each visit to begin to make memories of her.

  Here she is just a wiggling away.

 

Even though I am thrilled that everything looks healthy, I still catch myself wondering if things are going to be OK.  I wonder if I'll have her really early and we'll have to do the NICU again, I wonder if something could develop incorrectly, if she might just stop growing.  I think that I am getting better at "breathing" (see the last post) through the difficulty and pushing forward no matter what happens, but I can't seem to completely walk away from all the doubts and worries.  I do have more hope now, and more reassurance than I have felt since the beginning of the pregnancy.

 

That day, I felt so happy, and my kids did too.  My youngest living child (age 4) was singing a mash up of several different upbeat songs as we ate lunch that day.  His sequence went like this:  "We will, we will rock you!  Let it go, let it go!  'Cause I'm so happy....happy...happy....Who you gonna call? Ghostbusters!"   Then he started to mix them up like "We will, we will ghostbust you."  No kidding. 

 

 I smiled and thought that my heart felt like that in some ways.  I felt so much relief and happiness that it's like my brain was schizophrenic with happiness.  Unable to dwell on just one happy thought, I floated from excitement about another daughter, to thoughts of watching a healthy baby in our ultrasound, to missing my Gideon but feeling like he sent this child to comfort me, to loving my happy 4 year old who was singing his heart out in a mash up to beat all mash ups.  I felt so much love and support from my husband who took part of the day off so that he could be there for our ultrasound, and who has been so understanding through all the emotions of two pregnancies within a year, and the loss of our child.  He usually tries to come to that big ultrasound, because it's pretty cool, and fun to find out what the baby is, but especially after our last scary experience, he wanted to be present to hear what the doctors would tell us about our baby, and to be there for me in case we got bad news.  I felt the love and strength of many of my family and friends, who I know have been praying with us for a long time, but especially since Gideon.  My heart was mashing up all these awesome feelings.

 

Later on Monday, a friend of mine posted the song "Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah" to my facebook timeline.  That was fitting for my heart, for my emotions.  I did a dance to that song when I was in 2nd grade, and have enjoyed it ever since.  It swirled in to the mash of songs that I had heard my son sing earlier, and it made me smile to know that she was happy for me too.

 

My little happy Hyrum has been asking this week to hear Gideon's song, so today we played it and sang along and looked at pictures of ourselves with Gideon.  He loved seeing pictures with himself and Gideon together.  Here are Scott and I trying to get our happy (and somewhat jumpy crazy) Hyrum to be very gentle with his very fragile little brother.  Hyrum was such a champ, he did really well in the hospital, and was so careful when he touched and kissed and held his brother.  Hyrum still remembers, and whenever we listen to the song, he says "Awww, I'm sad for Gideon."

It is good, but sometimes hard to swim through those memories.  I don't want to forget him, I don't want my children to forget him, I am so glad he joined our family and for the precious moments we had with him.  We truly were able to enjoy time as a family with him, and that is a gift I can't measure.  Tangible gifts since then have felt small and incomparable.  It does hurt to miss him, to wonder how he would be doing now, if he'd be rolling and crawling, how his laugh would have sounded, and what would he have delighted in?  I don't like having to wait for those treasures, and looking at his pictures makes me ache a little, but I also feel joy and hope blended in, because I truly believe I will get to have those moments one day, and I'm grateful to my Heavenly Father and to Jesus for making that possible.  Since Gideon, the mash ups of my emotions have an increasingly broad range, sad mixed with hope and happy, excitement mixed with tentativeness, and I'm beginning to grow used to it.  It's part of my everyday life now, but to anyone listening, they may hear a strange sounding mash up--sort of like "Who you gonna call?  Happy....happy.....We will, we will rock you!  Zip-a-dee-doo-dah!  The cold never bothered me anyway."