I know I have said it before, but it's true. I thought I was prepared to feel sad when we learned Gideon was not going to make it. And I was told (and have come to terms with) that it is OK to feel happy, to still find times to laugh. And I think I have a pretty good sense of humor, and I have laughed a lot. I didn't want to go through this, but I had talked to people who had been through things like this, so I thought I was "prepared".
I wasn't really. I wasn't prepared for the ups and downs and rollercoaster that this is. I don't know if anyone ever really can be. No matter how much anyone tells you about feeling different emotions, it's not the same as experiencing them. The swirls of emotion are all over, and often knock me off balance a little bit. I think it is not quite as debilitating as it was at first. Sad isn't all consuming, but it is still present in many things, more things than it ever used to be before Gideon. I was not prepared for the moments when tears would spring to my eyes, and for the times when things make me gasp, because I am surprised by how tender my heart still feels. I was not prepared for the echoes of voices in my head "Mommy, I don't want Gideon to die" (Hyrum) or "Mom, I am afraid to pray for another baby, because what if it doesn't live too?" (James). Or a neighbor girl, who sees the picture on the piano "Is that your baby who died?"
Sometimes I am surprised at the happy moments, the laughter, the moving on that I do. I got to enjoy a fun "sister" date with a few of my sister in laws this last weekend, and it was so fun to just enjoy life, the company of people that I love, and shopping. I actually do really like shopping....Of course I couldn't help but bring up Gideon. And, since I was hanging out with my husband's sisters, I told them how I think their brother is REALLY handling things. They are kind enough to ask and wonder and worry about both of us.
P.S. I vented about this to his sisters....Men miss their baby's too. Why do some people assume that he is not or should not be having a hard time with this? Almost everyone asks him how I am doing. Very few people ask about Scott. People know that I will be struggling and hurting. Few people, though, expect him to be sad or worry about him. Even he was surprised at how sad he felt when they told us that Gideon may not make it. He expected that it would be hard for him because it would be hard for me, but it has been hard for him because he loves our children, and knew he would miss this child. He misses those tender tiny snuggles. We both miss all the things we would be doing with our baby. It's funny, I know we believe men can be good dads and love their kids and be involved in their lives. I know that we expect and hope fathers will invest their time and efforts and emotions into their children. So why in the world do people not expect men to have a hard time when they lose a child?! Not that he "cries himself to sleep each night on his huge pillow", but he has those same moments, where he misses holding our baby. He has times when a sweet moment is turned a little sad by missing our sweet one.
For example. On Sunday, our daughter climbed up into Scott's lap. She has her Daddy under a spell, and she is a sweet thing with lots of snuggles and loves to share. The day she was born, as he held her, Scott said "I think I'm in love." And he is. He has always treasured her snuggles and loves. But when she climbed onto his lap, he had one of those moments where the sad just snuck in with powerful potency. He won't get to hold Gideon for MANY years. He missed snuggling our baby. And then he felt frustrated that the sweet moment had to have sadness mixed in.
Another P.S. Do NOT judge someone else's trial. Don't. Don't. Um...don't. We have experienced both sides of this coin as we have gone through this. Sometimes people tell us "your trial is so much bigger than mine." or "I don't think I could ever handle anything like that." Perhaps it is true, but I don't think that is really so. Many of these same people have health issues, have family members with very severe health issues, have marriages in distress, kids that have gone or are going astray. My advice: give yourself and God some credit--your trials are your trials, chosen for you, to be hard for you, to challenge you, to smooth your rough spots. They are hard for you, and will help you grow, the same way that my trials will help me grow. And I see many of you going through these trials and have so much respect for you, and wonder how I could ever go through that. I will say it again, it is so true: I have great respect for you. God is a MASTER craftsman, and what you need to be the best you is not going to be the same as what I need to be the best me. Yes, this is a hard trial for Scott and I. Do NOT assume that it is harder than yours.
ALSO do NOT assume that it's easier than yours. I have been very irritated when people imply that because we only had our baby a week, we didn't really know him, so it must not really be that painful. Let me repeat, a little louder here. DON'T JUDGE SOMEONE ELSE'S TRIAL!!!
That is a hugely unfair assumption. I am sure it is hard to lose a child that you have spent 10 years with, or 2 years, or 18, or 23. Death is hard. The end. We don't like endings, it's not in our eternal nature. (Dieter F. Uchtdorf again.) Let's not "rank" each other's trials, huh? There are reasons I can see your point, losing a dear one that you have known for years is hard, because you have many memories tied with them, associations to them, and you will miss their nuances, isms, and their unique ways, many things in this life will trigger memories of them, and that will hurt, probably for years to come. I am not going to tell you that I think I have it worse than you, but here's a little food for thought as to why I think this is hard in its own way. I never got those 10 years (or 2 or 23, or 67) worth of memories. Because I have children, I do know about the funny things they say and do in many different stages, about their first steps, about learning to read, having a favorite song that just makes them do their own dance. I will not get to experience any of that with Gideon until we are all resurrected, and that's a ways away. Part of what makes it so hard is what I didn't get to experience with him...
OK rants over.
So yeah, I got to enjoy a fun weekend with my sisters in law. I love them, they have all been a wonderful support to Scott and I through this whole thing, and have blessed my life in countless ways. They often know when to let me cry, when to cry with me, when to help me laugh, and when I need alone time. They have served me in a host of ways. They are either remarkably intuitive, sensitive to the spirit, or just have amazing luck with their guesses. It felt wonderful to be happy with them. I still thought of what would have been, though. If my plan had happened, I'd have had a 2 or 3 week old baby. I wouldn't have joined them in all the festivities, because I'd have been snuggling my tiny fellow, nursing and exhausted during those first several weeks.
I got to indulge in some fun retail therapy, we went shopping in Park City at the outlet center, where I snagged plenty of good deals. Good deals give me a "high" and I LOVE IT!! I could blog just about all the awesome stuff I got for under $4, but I won't. I will tell you this bitter sweet part of the adventure.
I was afraid to go into Carters. Silly, but I have bought baby clothing for all my kids there, I have memories of being there pregnant, and memories of being there with a little baby, and I was a little nervous about it. But I figured I was being a little silly, my sister in laws reminded me that they have lots of stuff for kids, not just babies (they weren't pressuring me, just helping me through the moment) and so I walked right past the baby stuff and found some great stuff for my 6 and 4 year olds. TRIUMPH!!
...But at the checkout counter...there were these adorable pumpkin sock/slipper things. The sad got in my happy again, and I was a little taken aback. I had to blink back tears, because I wanted those little socks for my baby's feet that I won't get to see in a very long time. DANG YOU PUMPKIN SLIPPERS, you messed up my triumphal moment.
Really, Scott and I are doing well. We both take moments to treasure each other and our living children more, and treasuring the moments with those children is something I am becoming better at. Pumpkin carving and Halloween parties was NOT part of my original plan this year, I was going to be a mommy of a newborn. So pumpkin carving tonight was fun and memorable, but laced with a little bit of "I wish", a little bit of "I miss the way it would have been." We are trying to be happy, and choosing to look for God's hand in our lives, and look for what we are supposed to learn and who we are supposed to become from this trial. We often find that sad gets into our sweet moments, we just can't seem to get away from it, but we are having many sweet moments, even if they sometimes turn bittersweet on us.
Monday, October 27, 2014
Monday, October 20, 2014
Things I didn't expect
When they told me that Gideon's condition might be lethal (2 days before he was born), I knew that our family was going to be travelling down a very hard path. Even if he had lived longer, we knew things were bad, and I expected that it would be difficult. I expected that we would not always know how things were going to be, that there would be a lot of touch and go moments, that we were going to have to take things a moment at a time. I knew that it would be harder than I could handle alone, and I knew I wouldn't have to handle it alone. I have a wonderful family and friend support network (thank you all!!) and I have Heavenly Father and my Savior who love me and give me strength to bear the burden, even though the burden is still there.
There have been some things that I did not expect though. For example, I did not realize how hard it would be for me to see someone else struggling through a situation even remotely like ours. I have several friends and cousins who have had babies in the last few weeks. If anything at all seems to be going wrong, I feel a panicky feeling right along with them. One of my friends from when I was in high school has been in the hospital for weeks, and is having to deliver her baby 6 weeks early, and I am feeling all kinds of anxious for her and her baby. It is a reminder to me how much I still miss Gideon, how much pain there is, how I don't want anyone else to have to go through what we have. I DO know that Gideon is still my son, that he will be resurrected, that I will get that chance to raise him, but I still ache for him, I still wish he were here right now.
I didn't expect to feel so jittery about my other children either. I have always been a worrier and a fusser. I just can't help it, I have a big imagination, and I stress about things like kids coming home late, or pregnant sister in laws that might be overdoing it. (Sorry guys.) Now that we have lost a child, I am a little more guarded about my others. (I didn't think there was room for me to be more anxious than I already was, but apparently there is.) I back out of my driveway more carefully. I took Hyrum to the doctor because he kept telling me how much his legs hurt, and was sometimes limping. (He's fine, everything seems to be normal after both x-rays and ultrasounds of his legs.) It's hard for me to even send my kids to school now. I am terrified of losing another child. I am trying to still let them be children, but it is VERY hard to let my boys be boys at this point. I have to hold back all the things I want to holler at them to keep them safe in a bubble. "Don't climb that ladder! Don't jump down the stairs! No, you may not eat raw cookie dough, you might get sick and die."
I thought that I would simply make the decision to find joy in this trial, and then I'd just have to stick to it, but that's not really how it's been. It hasn't been nearly as simple as I figured it would be. I thought that seeing all the miracles that I talked about during Gideon's funeral would make it easy to be happy and move forward with life. That has not been the case. Every day, and sometimes multiple times a day, I have to come to terms with our situation again. I have to keep on deciding that I want to be happy, I have to keep on choosing to have faith in the Lord's plan for our family, to try and see what God wants me to see and become who he wants me to become. Otherwise, I would drown in the grief, in the feelings of guilt, wondering what I did wrong, or what I could have done better to change this situation. I AM choosing to trust in God, I am choosing not to let the feelings of self doubt drag me down, I am holding to the faith that families are forever, but those are choices I now have to face far more often than I expected to.
Some of the surprises have been pleasant surprises. My children do miss their brother still, and continue to petition the Lord for siblings (we are in a prayer war--some want a brother, others want a sister, and occasionally they are praying for twins for us. I am not quite sure how I feel about that idea.) They have done remarkably well, though. I wondered if they would use their grief as leverage to get away with not doing classwork or homework (no, I don't think they are evil, but they can be very dramatic sometimes), but they have worked hard in school and done really well. My relationship with my children hasn't really changed, but it has grown more dear to me.
I didn't expect that the holidays would feel so bitter-sweet. I LOVE the family time, the fun activities that are coming in rapid fire beginning in October. I am so much more grateful for the time I have with my family, and with good friends. However, as we prepare for Halloween, I am coming face to face with the plans I originally had for this year. We would have a new baby in October, we would limit Trick-or-Treating and avoid some of the parties/carnivals, and I would be home with baby while Scott took the kids out. That has changed. I have started Christmas shopping already (only a little, I love to find good deals and tuck them away), and I was looking through our stuff and came upon some outfits we had bought to give to Gideon for Christmas. They were bought about 10 days before I ended up in the hospital, when we had gone shopping at the pajama outlet up in Logan. It was heartbreaking to pull out these adorable pieces of clothing and know that I couldn't use them anymore. (But I have a nephew who can, and we passed them along.) Christmas is going to be very different than I had planned.
One thing that is not a surprise is that everything pulls at my heart strings. I have always been a crier. I am emotional, I can't help it. This has definitely taken it to a new level, which I'm still not sure I'm very comfortable with. I do have many wonderful highs, I treasure the time reading books to my kids, their hugs and kisses and questions make me feel so happy. There are some very sad moments too, reminders of things I have to wait a VERY long time to experience--hearing him laugh, seeing him smile, I won't get to see his first steps or watch him try new foods on Thanksgiving, or ride a bike, or open Christmas presents, or any of that for many years, and that can be really hard sometimes.
I once heard (and I LOVE it) the saying that in life, flat lines are a bad thing. Flat lines indicate death on a heart monitor. It's the ups and downs that let you know you're alive. Well, then--I am definitely alive, and choosing to find joy, day after day, or hour after hour.
There have been some things that I did not expect though. For example, I did not realize how hard it would be for me to see someone else struggling through a situation even remotely like ours. I have several friends and cousins who have had babies in the last few weeks. If anything at all seems to be going wrong, I feel a panicky feeling right along with them. One of my friends from when I was in high school has been in the hospital for weeks, and is having to deliver her baby 6 weeks early, and I am feeling all kinds of anxious for her and her baby. It is a reminder to me how much I still miss Gideon, how much pain there is, how I don't want anyone else to have to go through what we have. I DO know that Gideon is still my son, that he will be resurrected, that I will get that chance to raise him, but I still ache for him, I still wish he were here right now.
I didn't expect to feel so jittery about my other children either. I have always been a worrier and a fusser. I just can't help it, I have a big imagination, and I stress about things like kids coming home late, or pregnant sister in laws that might be overdoing it. (Sorry guys.) Now that we have lost a child, I am a little more guarded about my others. (I didn't think there was room for me to be more anxious than I already was, but apparently there is.) I back out of my driveway more carefully. I took Hyrum to the doctor because he kept telling me how much his legs hurt, and was sometimes limping. (He's fine, everything seems to be normal after both x-rays and ultrasounds of his legs.) It's hard for me to even send my kids to school now. I am terrified of losing another child. I am trying to still let them be children, but it is VERY hard to let my boys be boys at this point. I have to hold back all the things I want to holler at them to keep them safe in a bubble. "Don't climb that ladder! Don't jump down the stairs! No, you may not eat raw cookie dough, you might get sick and die."
I thought that I would simply make the decision to find joy in this trial, and then I'd just have to stick to it, but that's not really how it's been. It hasn't been nearly as simple as I figured it would be. I thought that seeing all the miracles that I talked about during Gideon's funeral would make it easy to be happy and move forward with life. That has not been the case. Every day, and sometimes multiple times a day, I have to come to terms with our situation again. I have to keep on deciding that I want to be happy, I have to keep on choosing to have faith in the Lord's plan for our family, to try and see what God wants me to see and become who he wants me to become. Otherwise, I would drown in the grief, in the feelings of guilt, wondering what I did wrong, or what I could have done better to change this situation. I AM choosing to trust in God, I am choosing not to let the feelings of self doubt drag me down, I am holding to the faith that families are forever, but those are choices I now have to face far more often than I expected to.
Some of the surprises have been pleasant surprises. My children do miss their brother still, and continue to petition the Lord for siblings (we are in a prayer war--some want a brother, others want a sister, and occasionally they are praying for twins for us. I am not quite sure how I feel about that idea.) They have done remarkably well, though. I wondered if they would use their grief as leverage to get away with not doing classwork or homework (no, I don't think they are evil, but they can be very dramatic sometimes), but they have worked hard in school and done really well. My relationship with my children hasn't really changed, but it has grown more dear to me.
I didn't expect that the holidays would feel so bitter-sweet. I LOVE the family time, the fun activities that are coming in rapid fire beginning in October. I am so much more grateful for the time I have with my family, and with good friends. However, as we prepare for Halloween, I am coming face to face with the plans I originally had for this year. We would have a new baby in October, we would limit Trick-or-Treating and avoid some of the parties/carnivals, and I would be home with baby while Scott took the kids out. That has changed. I have started Christmas shopping already (only a little, I love to find good deals and tuck them away), and I was looking through our stuff and came upon some outfits we had bought to give to Gideon for Christmas. They were bought about 10 days before I ended up in the hospital, when we had gone shopping at the pajama outlet up in Logan. It was heartbreaking to pull out these adorable pieces of clothing and know that I couldn't use them anymore. (But I have a nephew who can, and we passed them along.) Christmas is going to be very different than I had planned.
One thing that is not a surprise is that everything pulls at my heart strings. I have always been a crier. I am emotional, I can't help it. This has definitely taken it to a new level, which I'm still not sure I'm very comfortable with. I do have many wonderful highs, I treasure the time reading books to my kids, their hugs and kisses and questions make me feel so happy. There are some very sad moments too, reminders of things I have to wait a VERY long time to experience--hearing him laugh, seeing him smile, I won't get to see his first steps or watch him try new foods on Thanksgiving, or ride a bike, or open Christmas presents, or any of that for many years, and that can be really hard sometimes.
I once heard (and I LOVE it) the saying that in life, flat lines are a bad thing. Flat lines indicate death on a heart monitor. It's the ups and downs that let you know you're alive. Well, then--I am definitely alive, and choosing to find joy, day after day, or hour after hour.
Sunday, October 12, 2014
God must love me a lot...
I can often tell who "knows" about what has been going on and who doesn't by the look on their faces when I respond to "How are you?" So often, we ask that question without really looking for a sincere answer. People that really want to know how I am ask that same question differently than in the normal "Hey, how are you?" way we always do as a form of greeting that doesn't really want an answer. Lately, those who know about Gideon look me in the eye and touch my hand or shoulder and ask "How ARE you?" I don't know if anyone believes me when I tell them "I'm doing OK." or "I'm doing good today." You should. I don't lie when I answer this question. I'm getting better at short answers to the question, but I have stopped using the word "fine." It's not true anymore, not for me. My emotions swing too wildly for me to be "fine", I'm usually doing really well, or struggling, or else I'm just all over the board emotional. A few people today asked me how I was, and those that didn't know about Gideon just gave me quizzical looks when I said "Well, I'm really emotional today." If you ask me "How ARE you?" and I say "Fine" then you know that I wasn't really listening or answering truthfully, and you can ask me again to see how I really am.
What a tearful day today was. I cried when I was playing the organ in church this morning. I cried as I listened to a baby blessing, I cried when I heard people telling their stories of faith and healing, I cried as I read scriptures, I cried as I played for choir. What a DAY! I don't know if I could even list all the emotions that were so strong they made me cry today. I felt like the Spirit was communicating with me so strongly and it was so overpowering and overwhelming, tears came as I felt God's great love for me. Some of my tears were sad: I felt a little envious of the parents who blessed their baby with health and strength, and then I felt bad for feeling that way, because they absolutely deserve a happy, healthy child. I felt an overwhelming feeling that God is aware of me and is guiding me, even as I heard a mother tell a story of her child having a miraculous recovery from some health conditions that he had. I wanted that recovery for my baby, and I had faith that God could do it, just like he did for her son, but I have faith that it wasn't what Gideon was supposed to have. I teared up today as I saw the beautiful sunset and realized that my son never got to see one with me, never got to feel a raindrop, and I felt excited and grateful that I will get the chance to enjoy one with him one day.
I can't share all of the words and music that touched my heart today, because some were other people's words, and I can't quote them. However, there were several scriptures and phrases in songs that truly touch my heart deeply now, when they didn't before. You know those moments when you are reading something that you have read before, and lightning strikes your brain and lights up a passage in a new way, and it's like you've never read it or understood it before? Have you ever been singing a song that you have sung many times, and you know all the words and melody and have for a long time, but all of a sudden, you understand it on a deeper level? That happened to me 3 or 4 times within the last 24 hours. Here are a few I can share word for word:
1st: Yesterday, when we were reading the Book of Mormon as a family, we were reading in Mosiah chapter 23. Alma and the people who had listened to the teachings of the prophet Abinadi had to flee from before the wicked king, who was ready to kill them for deciding to follow the words of scriptures. They came to a land where they began to settle and build. However, the Lamanites found them and put leaders and guards over them. Alma's followers had chosen to repent and be baptized. They had to leave behind their homes and friends because of that choice, and settle a new place. They were doing good things, and happy about doing good things, but still, bad things happened to them as a result of the Lamanites discovering their settlement. In verse 21 and 22 it says:
2nd. Last night, as I was getting ready for bed, I was thinking about the song "I'll Go Where You Want Me to Go." If you haven't heard it, here's a link. It's a men's choir, because I LOVE men's voices.
I'll Go Where You Want Me to Go: large Men's choir 2009
It already says "I'll Go where you want me to go, dear Lord, over mountain or plain or sea. I'll say what you want me to say, dear Lord, I'll be what you want me to be." And I thought to myself, "if I was adding words to this, I'd add 'I'll bear what you want me to bear, dear Lord.' and 'I'll do what you want me to do.'" I played this hymn on the organ this morning as prelude, and felt that God knows that I am trying to do what he wants, and to have faith through this difficult time. It's NOT easy to have faith, it's easy to want to ask "Why?!" I do know that he has reasons though, and that his ways are higher than my ways, and his thoughts higher than my thoughts. (Isaiah 55:8&9) I know as I learn and grow, as I do what he wants me to do, and as I bear what he wants me to bear, I really will end up being what he wants me to be. I don't know what he wants me to become yet, but I do know it will be awesome. He's a master creator, and if I let Him do His thing, and keep on trusting, then I just know it's going to be epic.
3rd. A less known hymn that I played for choir today. Hymn 112 in the Hymnbook for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (aka Mormons or LDS)
Savior Redeemer of my Soul
"A father guiding childish feet through shifting treacherous sands."
"For bonds that cross eternity, for ties that never cease. For such a special family, I thank thee Lord for these."
Oh Lord, anoint mine eyes to see, and let my spirit sing, and give all thanks to Thee.
Oh Lord, my heart would sing thy praise, my voice in gladness raise, for all thy hands have made, until I hear and see and feel thy hand in everything."
When I was finished accompanying the choir on that song, I felt like I had been through an emotional wringer. My shoulders were shaking and I was sniffling and trying as hard as I could NOT to shake, not to mess up, not to drip all over the piano during that second verse. The emotions I felt were powerful. Some of them are sad, I do miss my son. I wish my husband was going to get to guide his childish feet sooner rather than many years from now. I never got to see him smile and I have to wait a really long time before I will get to see it, and before I will get to touch him again. Some of the emotions I felt though were overwhelmingly happy. I AM so grateful for my family. I am SO grateful for God. I felt Him so much today, He loves me, and I love Him. This is the hardest blessing I have ever had in my life. I am so grateful to have His strength to rely on during this very, very difficult time. He has let me know many times today, through strong spiritual witnesses that this is what our family needs so we can become who he wants us to be. I am trying hard to be grateful for what I am learning, and to recognize His hand in all things. I felt it so much today, He is helping us out more than we often recognize. When I look for it, when I am searching for answers, searching out who He wants me to be, and what He wants me to do, and when I search to see His hand in everything (like the song says) I can see it.
I guess God must love me so much. I really feel like I am getting better at seeing His hands in my life partly as a result of Gideon's little mission here to earth.
What a tearful day today was. I cried when I was playing the organ in church this morning. I cried as I listened to a baby blessing, I cried when I heard people telling their stories of faith and healing, I cried as I read scriptures, I cried as I played for choir. What a DAY! I don't know if I could even list all the emotions that were so strong they made me cry today. I felt like the Spirit was communicating with me so strongly and it was so overpowering and overwhelming, tears came as I felt God's great love for me. Some of my tears were sad: I felt a little envious of the parents who blessed their baby with health and strength, and then I felt bad for feeling that way, because they absolutely deserve a happy, healthy child. I felt an overwhelming feeling that God is aware of me and is guiding me, even as I heard a mother tell a story of her child having a miraculous recovery from some health conditions that he had. I wanted that recovery for my baby, and I had faith that God could do it, just like he did for her son, but I have faith that it wasn't what Gideon was supposed to have. I teared up today as I saw the beautiful sunset and realized that my son never got to see one with me, never got to feel a raindrop, and I felt excited and grateful that I will get the chance to enjoy one with him one day.
I can't share all of the words and music that touched my heart today, because some were other people's words, and I can't quote them. However, there were several scriptures and phrases in songs that truly touch my heart deeply now, when they didn't before. You know those moments when you are reading something that you have read before, and lightning strikes your brain and lights up a passage in a new way, and it's like you've never read it or understood it before? Have you ever been singing a song that you have sung many times, and you know all the words and melody and have for a long time, but all of a sudden, you understand it on a deeper level? That happened to me 3 or 4 times within the last 24 hours. Here are a few I can share word for word:
1st: Yesterday, when we were reading the Book of Mormon as a family, we were reading in Mosiah chapter 23. Alma and the people who had listened to the teachings of the prophet Abinadi had to flee from before the wicked king, who was ready to kill them for deciding to follow the words of scriptures. They came to a land where they began to settle and build. However, the Lamanites found them and put leaders and guards over them. Alma's followers had chosen to repent and be baptized. They had to leave behind their homes and friends because of that choice, and settle a new place. They were doing good things, and happy about doing good things, but still, bad things happened to them as a result of the Lamanites discovering their settlement. In verse 21 and 22 it says:
21 Nevertheless the Lord seeth fit to chasten his people; yea, he trieth their patience and their faith.I am sure that those verses were always there before, that I've read them and they've never jumped off the page like they did the other day, but as I read them, I began to choke up. The Lord tries our patience and our faith, even when we are doing good things. And..."Whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth."from Hebrews 12:6 popped into my head too. The Lord loves me. He is helping me grow, testing my faith.
2nd. Last night, as I was getting ready for bed, I was thinking about the song "I'll Go Where You Want Me to Go." If you haven't heard it, here's a link. It's a men's choir, because I LOVE men's voices.
I'll Go Where You Want Me to Go: large Men's choir 2009
It already says "I'll Go where you want me to go, dear Lord, over mountain or plain or sea. I'll say what you want me to say, dear Lord, I'll be what you want me to be." And I thought to myself, "if I was adding words to this, I'd add 'I'll bear what you want me to bear, dear Lord.' and 'I'll do what you want me to do.'" I played this hymn on the organ this morning as prelude, and felt that God knows that I am trying to do what he wants, and to have faith through this difficult time. It's NOT easy to have faith, it's easy to want to ask "Why?!" I do know that he has reasons though, and that his ways are higher than my ways, and his thoughts higher than my thoughts. (Isaiah 55:8&9) I know as I learn and grow, as I do what he wants me to do, and as I bear what he wants me to bear, I really will end up being what he wants me to be. I don't know what he wants me to become yet, but I do know it will be awesome. He's a master creator, and if I let Him do His thing, and keep on trusting, then I just know it's going to be epic.
3rd. A less known hymn that I played for choir today. Hymn 112 in the Hymnbook for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (aka Mormons or LDS)
Savior Redeemer of my Soul
Lyrics
Text: Orson F. Whitney, 1855-1931 Music: Harry A. Dean, 1892-1987
I sat at the piano and cried as the choir sang this. This is going to sound a little "born again", but I LOVE JESUS! Oh my goodness, I just felt so much gratitude for all the help he has given me as we have faced the pain and hardship of this. My belief in the resurrection, in Christ making it possible for all of us to live again and to be able to return to live with God in heaven through his sacrifice...it's made enduring this whole thing possible. It still hurts, I still miss Gideon, I still ache for him, but because of Jesus, I know that this separation is temporary. My impatience is a big part of the issue, it feels like such a long time before I will get to enjoy a sunset with my baby, or take him outside to catch snowflakes on his tongue. But I WILL get to, and that helps me feel so much better. I am so grateful for the love of my Savior, for how much he has sent his spirit to let me know that this is His plan for my family, that even though my prayers weren't answered the way I thought they should be (miraculous Gideon recovery), they were heard and understood, and the Lord is giving me what will (see verse 3) chasten my soul till I shall be in perfect harmony with Him. He is making me more worthy of His love and fitting me for the life above (with Him and with my Gideon.) I just love him. And this song said it so beautifully. Tears...
4th. You'd think my tear ducts would just dry out. Nope. I am not THAT blessed. I am a crier. I have lots of emotions, and they come out my eyes. If I'm really happy, I cry, if I'm angry, I cry, sad, guilty, overwhelmed...cry, cry, cry.
I get to play the piano for two choirs. The larger choir is singing a beautiful piece written by Lynn Lund, called "I Give All Thanks to Thee." It speaks of beautiful tender things in our lives, and pleads for the eyes to see all the works the Lord has made. I wish I had a link for this one, because reading the words is not the same without the gorgeous music. Those of you who are coming to stake conference will get to hear it. (Hopefully by then, I'll be able to play it without crying.) This is a hard task, playing this piece as I cry. I am going to throw in a few pictures, because these were flashing in my mind as I played and heard these words sung tonight. Here are the words to the second verse:
"An infant's smile, a mother's touch, a sister's gentle hands."
"A father guiding childish feet through shifting treacherous sands." "For bonds that cross eternity, for ties that never cease. For such a special family, I thank thee Lord for these."
Oh Lord, anoint mine eyes to see, and let my spirit sing, and give all thanks to Thee.
Oh Lord, my heart would sing thy praise, my voice in gladness raise, for all thy hands have made, until I hear and see and feel thy hand in everything."
When I was finished accompanying the choir on that song, I felt like I had been through an emotional wringer. My shoulders were shaking and I was sniffling and trying as hard as I could NOT to shake, not to mess up, not to drip all over the piano during that second verse. The emotions I felt were powerful. Some of them are sad, I do miss my son. I wish my husband was going to get to guide his childish feet sooner rather than many years from now. I never got to see him smile and I have to wait a really long time before I will get to see it, and before I will get to touch him again. Some of the emotions I felt though were overwhelmingly happy. I AM so grateful for my family. I am SO grateful for God. I felt Him so much today, He loves me, and I love Him. This is the hardest blessing I have ever had in my life. I am so grateful to have His strength to rely on during this very, very difficult time. He has let me know many times today, through strong spiritual witnesses that this is what our family needs so we can become who he wants us to be. I am trying hard to be grateful for what I am learning, and to recognize His hand in all things. I felt it so much today, He is helping us out more than we often recognize. When I look for it, when I am searching for answers, searching out who He wants me to be, and what He wants me to do, and when I search to see His hand in everything (like the song says) I can see it.
I guess God must love me so much. I really feel like I am getting better at seeing His hands in my life partly as a result of Gideon's little mission here to earth.
Friday, October 10, 2014
Aching
This is a sad post because I really miss my baby today. I have learned though, that I don't like it when people feel sorry for me. I'd rather you feel sorry with me. So here it is, so you can know how my emotions have been today.
Sometimes, this is just overwhelming. I have described it to Scott as "It feels like there is an elephant sitting on my chest", and that's sort of how it is. It's sometimes hard to breathe. My chest feels so tight, my heart seems like each beat comes with great effort. I feel like I might implode. It's not this way all the time, but it happens often enough.
My baby was due this week. I fully expected that I'd have a new little fellow at our house, that I'd be sleep deprived, but also on an adrenaline high. The feeling of "what a miracle" that comes when I hold my new babies in the hospital would be going on now. And while I did get to experience that "what a miracle" sensation many times during the week Gideon was alive, it was not the same. Usually, it happens in the middle of the night, as I nurse my newborn in the hospital room and look over at my husband and think about how awesome and wonderful my family is, how amazing it is that my body knows what to do and how to do it, how God has blessed me. I still feel blessed, I still think my family is awesome, but I didn't get to have that moment in my room with my baby. Not this time. I never spent a night with him. And that's really hard today.
The last week, coming up to today has been tough. I'm not really jealous of all the wonderful mothers I see with babies. I was pregnant with some of my cousins and some of my sister-in-laws, and they all have their babies, and I have my pictures. A picture is worth a thousand words, and I'm so grateful to have the pictures, but a thousand pictures is definitely not worth a baby. I miss him. I miss the way his soft head felt against my face. I miss his tiny hands. I miss how much he would have grown, and have had lots of reminders in the forms of other beautiful growing babies. I can see how much they've changed since Gideon's birthday, and know that he would have grown and changed too.
Gideon was the 7th of 8 babies born to my family within the last year. (8th is due in a few weeks) Watching the others with their kids is wonderful and hard. In some ways, I love each of those babies a little more, because holding them and hugging them is the closest thing I have to being able to hold mine, at least they are related to me. I am always excited to see these beautiful cousins of my baby, my nieces and nephews, and if my emotions are in balance, I quickly snatch them up to give them love and attention when I see them. It's awesome and also very tough to see them grow, and to know that my son would have been part of this little cohort. I am sure that the remaining 7 will always be a little reminder of what I don't have here and now, and that's hard.
So much of me wants to jump in and try to get pregnant already, but the doctor has advised against it, as I still need to heal up. And frankly, I'm not excited to be sick for several months again. I am NOT one of those women who have energy and "glow" during my pregnancy...I'm the one who pukes for 4 months. (Could be worse, I don't puke for 9 months.) But I MISS having a baby, that was the whole point of getting pregnant the last time, and I don't have him.
I know that he's still mine. And I can't begin to express how wonderful it is to have that knowledge, the relief that I am still his mom, and he is still my boy, that he will be resurrected one day into a perfectly healthy child. I am more grateful now for that gift than I ever was before. I am more grateful for the blessings of the temple, which have sealed my family together forever, gluing him to me beyond mortality. And I do trust Heavenly Father that this was his plan for Gideon, and for us. I know I am learning and growing from this experience, but it hurts a lot.
Touching a picture isn't like holding a baby. I have ached for him a lot this week as I have approached my due date, as I've watched many of the women I was pregnant with grow larger and have their babies (or not yet, there are still a few who are pregnant and growing). I am so excited for each of them for the experiences they will get to have, but I miss having them with my baby. If you are one of those women, PLEASE do not feel bad for me. But please understand if I ask to hold your baby and then I cry. Understand that I am loving the moment so much, and missing having those moments with my own son, but am glad to have them with your child if you'll let me. Please don't feel sorry for me, but you can feel sorry with me, if you'd like.
Sometimes, this is just overwhelming. I have described it to Scott as "It feels like there is an elephant sitting on my chest", and that's sort of how it is. It's sometimes hard to breathe. My chest feels so tight, my heart seems like each beat comes with great effort. I feel like I might implode. It's not this way all the time, but it happens often enough.
My baby was due this week. I fully expected that I'd have a new little fellow at our house, that I'd be sleep deprived, but also on an adrenaline high. The feeling of "what a miracle" that comes when I hold my new babies in the hospital would be going on now. And while I did get to experience that "what a miracle" sensation many times during the week Gideon was alive, it was not the same. Usually, it happens in the middle of the night, as I nurse my newborn in the hospital room and look over at my husband and think about how awesome and wonderful my family is, how amazing it is that my body knows what to do and how to do it, how God has blessed me. I still feel blessed, I still think my family is awesome, but I didn't get to have that moment in my room with my baby. Not this time. I never spent a night with him. And that's really hard today.
The last week, coming up to today has been tough. I'm not really jealous of all the wonderful mothers I see with babies. I was pregnant with some of my cousins and some of my sister-in-laws, and they all have their babies, and I have my pictures. A picture is worth a thousand words, and I'm so grateful to have the pictures, but a thousand pictures is definitely not worth a baby. I miss him. I miss the way his soft head felt against my face. I miss his tiny hands. I miss how much he would have grown, and have had lots of reminders in the forms of other beautiful growing babies. I can see how much they've changed since Gideon's birthday, and know that he would have grown and changed too.
Gideon was the 7th of 8 babies born to my family within the last year. (8th is due in a few weeks) Watching the others with their kids is wonderful and hard. In some ways, I love each of those babies a little more, because holding them and hugging them is the closest thing I have to being able to hold mine, at least they are related to me. I am always excited to see these beautiful cousins of my baby, my nieces and nephews, and if my emotions are in balance, I quickly snatch them up to give them love and attention when I see them. It's awesome and also very tough to see them grow, and to know that my son would have been part of this little cohort. I am sure that the remaining 7 will always be a little reminder of what I don't have here and now, and that's hard.
So much of me wants to jump in and try to get pregnant already, but the doctor has advised against it, as I still need to heal up. And frankly, I'm not excited to be sick for several months again. I am NOT one of those women who have energy and "glow" during my pregnancy...I'm the one who pukes for 4 months. (Could be worse, I don't puke for 9 months.) But I MISS having a baby, that was the whole point of getting pregnant the last time, and I don't have him.
I know that he's still mine. And I can't begin to express how wonderful it is to have that knowledge, the relief that I am still his mom, and he is still my boy, that he will be resurrected one day into a perfectly healthy child. I am more grateful now for that gift than I ever was before. I am more grateful for the blessings of the temple, which have sealed my family together forever, gluing him to me beyond mortality. And I do trust Heavenly Father that this was his plan for Gideon, and for us. I know I am learning and growing from this experience, but it hurts a lot.
Touching a picture isn't like holding a baby. I have ached for him a lot this week as I have approached my due date, as I've watched many of the women I was pregnant with grow larger and have their babies (or not yet, there are still a few who are pregnant and growing). I am so excited for each of them for the experiences they will get to have, but I miss having them with my baby. If you are one of those women, PLEASE do not feel bad for me. But please understand if I ask to hold your baby and then I cry. Understand that I am loving the moment so much, and missing having those moments with my own son, but am glad to have them with your child if you'll let me. Please don't feel sorry for me, but you can feel sorry with me, if you'd like.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Choices
For the last week, my 3 year old, bless his soul, has begun saying something that sounds a lot like my post last week. He is expecting perfection from himself as he tries to write the letters in his name, or color a picture, or draw something. If it gets messed up, and his letters are kinked or curved or wobbly, he says "FAIL, FAIL, FAIL. I hate it when I fail." and he is so frustrated and disappointed. If his picture doesn't turn out how he wanted it to, he sometimes throws the pencil or tells me he can't do it because he needs my help.
What a choice to make. Do I help him write his name, so it can be perfect, the way he wants it? I want him to know that I will help him, but I also want him to know that I believe that he can do it. AND I don't expect him to do it perfectly, and he shouldn't either. I want him to know that I love and support him, and I want him to learn to do this by himself. One thing I know for sure, I have told him he should quit saying "fail" because he has not failed by making a mistake. It's OK to goof, that's not a "fail" unless you don't learn.
I am still teetering back and forth on what to do to help him learn. Each moment, I try to gauge whether it is more helpful to step in and help, or let him try again, whether I should encourage him to erase and fix the mistakes or to let him know that he tried and it's good enough that he doesn't need to erase. I have tried encouraging him to try again. I have told him that it's OK if the letters aren't perfect. He's got small hands and muscles that aren't used to this. We erase and try again. I point out the parts that he did so well, and tell him good job. But he often looks at it and again says "Fail, fail, fail."
And I see me. I see me in his actions and words. Sometimes, when I goof, or when I look back at what happened with Gideon, it all seems like "Fail, fail, fail." And because of my perspective now in dealing with Hyrum, I see Heavenly Father wanting me to know that it's OK that I don't do everything perfectly, and sometimes maybe not helping me as much as I'd like, because I need to learn and grow from this, and I CAN learn and grow from this. (I do feel His help and inspiration often, truly the idea for this blog post felt like inspiration from God--His reminder that He's there and He knows and cares what's happening with me.) It's OK if I am not perfect. It's OK if my heart and mind aren't used to this. I can erase and try again sometimes, and sometimes I have to just let it be good enough. I can't erase what happened with Gideon. I can't go back and NEVER forget to take my prenatal, I can't go back and decide to spend the few nights I did have with him on earth in the hospital with him. But I can quit telling myself "Fail, fail, fail."
It seems so dramatic when Hyrum says it, and the first time, I was so surprised, I almost laughed because it was completely out of the blue. He is VERY serious about it. From my point of view, I can see that it's wonderful that he's trying so hard, and cares so much, and I'm glad he wants to be better, and I know that with practice he will be one day.
And I'm sure God looks down as I struggle through my feelings, and maybe it's the same. Maybe He thinks it's wonderful that I'm trying so hard, and that I care so much, and He knows that with practice, I will be better one day. And maybe my thoughts of "I'm not good enough" and "maybe I really didn't want this baby" are not too much different than the dramatic "FAIL, FAIL, FAIL" that my Hyrum says when he makes a mistake. I am so serious about it, but it's really not as sad and as awful as I am seeing right this minute.
Several of you (thank you all so much for your love and support) sent me messages or comments about my last, very heavy post. In particular, the one thing that has helped me the most is that I need to choose. I can't choose what thoughts pop into my head (fail, fail, fail), but I can choose whether to give them any heed or not. I can't choose to have Gideon here with me, but I can choose what to do with this situation, to work hard and learn, to busy myself with good things that help me feel better, to talk with my family about what is most important, to share what I am learning. I can choose to seek God's help more when I'm struggling.
Yesterday, I felt a sense of "A-HA!" as I heard Hyrum say "Fail, fail, fail", and I explained that he hasn't failed if he messed up when he was writing his letters, that everyone has crooked letters when they are learning to write, and that practice will help. The realization that this was so relevant to my own situation was like being hit with cold water--it got my attention very suddenly. In that moment, I felt the Holy Ghost telling me that what I had just told my son was truth, and the truth resonated inside me as my own words echoed in my head.
So, I choose not to see it as "fail, fail, fail". I choose to see it as a way to learn and grow, and to know that I will get stronger and better with time and practice, just as my little boy will be much better at writing and coloring with time and practice. God knows me, and He's there, wanting me to succeed, wanting me to grow and learn, and I hope that I am slowly becoming what He knows I can become.
What a choice to make. Do I help him write his name, so it can be perfect, the way he wants it? I want him to know that I will help him, but I also want him to know that I believe that he can do it. AND I don't expect him to do it perfectly, and he shouldn't either. I want him to know that I love and support him, and I want him to learn to do this by himself. One thing I know for sure, I have told him he should quit saying "fail" because he has not failed by making a mistake. It's OK to goof, that's not a "fail" unless you don't learn.
I am still teetering back and forth on what to do to help him learn. Each moment, I try to gauge whether it is more helpful to step in and help, or let him try again, whether I should encourage him to erase and fix the mistakes or to let him know that he tried and it's good enough that he doesn't need to erase. I have tried encouraging him to try again. I have told him that it's OK if the letters aren't perfect. He's got small hands and muscles that aren't used to this. We erase and try again. I point out the parts that he did so well, and tell him good job. But he often looks at it and again says "Fail, fail, fail."
And I see me. I see me in his actions and words. Sometimes, when I goof, or when I look back at what happened with Gideon, it all seems like "Fail, fail, fail." And because of my perspective now in dealing with Hyrum, I see Heavenly Father wanting me to know that it's OK that I don't do everything perfectly, and sometimes maybe not helping me as much as I'd like, because I need to learn and grow from this, and I CAN learn and grow from this. (I do feel His help and inspiration often, truly the idea for this blog post felt like inspiration from God--His reminder that He's there and He knows and cares what's happening with me.) It's OK if I am not perfect. It's OK if my heart and mind aren't used to this. I can erase and try again sometimes, and sometimes I have to just let it be good enough. I can't erase what happened with Gideon. I can't go back and NEVER forget to take my prenatal, I can't go back and decide to spend the few nights I did have with him on earth in the hospital with him. But I can quit telling myself "Fail, fail, fail."
It seems so dramatic when Hyrum says it, and the first time, I was so surprised, I almost laughed because it was completely out of the blue. He is VERY serious about it. From my point of view, I can see that it's wonderful that he's trying so hard, and cares so much, and I'm glad he wants to be better, and I know that with practice he will be one day.
And I'm sure God looks down as I struggle through my feelings, and maybe it's the same. Maybe He thinks it's wonderful that I'm trying so hard, and that I care so much, and He knows that with practice, I will be better one day. And maybe my thoughts of "I'm not good enough" and "maybe I really didn't want this baby" are not too much different than the dramatic "FAIL, FAIL, FAIL" that my Hyrum says when he makes a mistake. I am so serious about it, but it's really not as sad and as awful as I am seeing right this minute.
Several of you (thank you all so much for your love and support) sent me messages or comments about my last, very heavy post. In particular, the one thing that has helped me the most is that I need to choose. I can't choose what thoughts pop into my head (fail, fail, fail), but I can choose whether to give them any heed or not. I can't choose to have Gideon here with me, but I can choose what to do with this situation, to work hard and learn, to busy myself with good things that help me feel better, to talk with my family about what is most important, to share what I am learning. I can choose to seek God's help more when I'm struggling.
Yesterday, I felt a sense of "A-HA!" as I heard Hyrum say "Fail, fail, fail", and I explained that he hasn't failed if he messed up when he was writing his letters, that everyone has crooked letters when they are learning to write, and that practice will help. The realization that this was so relevant to my own situation was like being hit with cold water--it got my attention very suddenly. In that moment, I felt the Holy Ghost telling me that what I had just told my son was truth, and the truth resonated inside me as my own words echoed in my head.
So, I choose not to see it as "fail, fail, fail". I choose to see it as a way to learn and grow, and to know that I will get stronger and better with time and practice, just as my little boy will be much better at writing and coloring with time and practice. God knows me, and He's there, wanting me to succeed, wanting me to grow and learn, and I hope that I am slowly becoming what He knows I can become.
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