Christmas, grief

Christmas, unraveled.

Hannah

Christmas will be different this year.

I tried to get my Christmas shopping done quickly because I felt so panicked everytime I had to go out.  Seems everywhere I went I was ambushed.  Racks of little Christmas dresses and matching shoes seemed to mock me and stockings embroidered “Baby’s First Christmas” left me feeling punched in the gut. 

There is just such an emptiness, and it feels like in all the cheerful anticipation and bustling, my precious little girl has been forgotten.

People seem to put a time limit on grief, and it seems the older your child is, the more time that is allotted.  I don’t understand this, because there is tremendous grief whether you lost a child that was 10, or a baby that left straight from your womb.  We don’t have Christmas memories to grieve, but we grieve the Christmas memories we will never create. 

Christmas has come although we hoped to wake finding it had already passed this year.  We are thankful to be surrounded by family and are holding our littles ones tighter than ever and breathing prayers of thanks to have them here to share in the joy and the pain. 

Every time I hear “oh hear the angel voices”… my eyes fill with tears because I know my little girl’s voice has joined that angelic choir this year.  I am clinging to the promise that one day I will join her and get to hear that beautiful music for myself…

Until then… I am wrestling this pain and determined that I will choose hope in whatever pit I may find myself standing.

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

                                                                        -Horatio G. Spafford

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Letters to Ellie

Hannah

My Sweet Ellianna Grace,

We never imagined we would not have you here for your very first Christmas.  It saddens our hearts to see your stocking hanging empty, and to know there will be no rushing in to scoop you out of your crib on Christmas morning. 

I try to imagine what is must be like in Heaven… are the angels bustling around preparing for a big celebration?  Are there Christmas carols and sounds of bells?  Is everyone still whispering about the little baby Jesus and what He did for us all those years ago?

I hope that you are held close by your new friends, and that your brother is lovingly showing you the way around.

As we gather to celebrate a Celestial Birthday, you will see a space among us… a space where you will never be far from our thoughts… a tiny purple Christmas tree adorned with sweet memories of you.  There will be tears in your absence, and there will be joy when we think of you dancing near that sea of glass.. a gift no one can top with wrapping and bow.

We will be giving thanks for the blessing of 4 1/2 months here graced with your presence, and for the ways we have grown and the things we have learned. 

Missing you dearly, loving you deeply, and waiting for the day I will hold you again.

All My Love,
Mommy

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Amanda the Panda, grief

A Bit of Cheer

Hannah

We wanted to share something special with you that has been a blessing to us this month…

A few weeks ago we found two large boxes on our doorstep.  We dragged them inside, eager to see who they were from.  Inside was a letter addressed to us from Amanda the Panda.  It said this was a Holiday Cheer box, sent to us because a guardian angel had contacted them on our behalf.  Amanda the Panda is an organization that reaches out to families who have lost a loved one.  Inside the boxes were twenty-five wrapped gifts, one for each day until Christmas, to bring a smile on days that undoubtedly will be some of the most difficult. 

The first gift was for all of us.  An Amaryllis bulb.  A beautiful red flower with a single lonely stalk that with a little loving care will bloom year after year.  We tenderly tucked the bulb into its pot of soil and are anticipating the beauty of Ellianna’s Amaryllis when it blooms in a few weeks. 

Every morning after our advent devotion, the kids dash to see whose turn it is to open the gift for that day.  Smiles and cheers erupt, and for a moment there is a sparkle on faces that have been worn by frequent tears. 

People shrug and say children are resilient, they will be fine.  I disagree.  Children are wounded just as much as adults.  We spend many nights holding tiny hands, rocking small bodies wracked with tears and heartache as they try to mend the pain of their sister being torn from their lives.  It is a long and very painful road, which makes moments of joy and laughter mean all the more to us.  We are deeply grateful to all the people that had a part in bringing us some much needed cheer and something to look forward to on some of the hardest of days.

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faith, hope, trials

Rolling With the Punches

Hannah
“Be still, there is a healer
His love is deeper than the sea
His mercy, it is unfailing
His arms are a fortress for the weak.”
~Chris Tomlin
I love this song.  Words that remind us of One who is greater than our troubles, a refuge we can run to.  I have to admit though, some doubt has made me challenge these words the last few weeks.
In the midst of keeping up with busy schedules, work, school, and travels and holidays on the horizon, we were thrown for a loop.  I started having some health problems.  Exams and test results came back concerning, and after seeing a specialist I was told I could be having a blood clotting problem, or it could be cancer. 
What?!?  Even as much as I have been learning about having faith, I was shouting at Heaven.  Surely, I thought, God would not do this to us right now.  We are still picking up the pieces from losing our daughter.  My husband and kids need me to be there for them right now.  He wouldn’t let us get kicked when we’re down, right?!  He promises not to give us more than we can handle.  I’m not sure I believed that right then. 
As the day neared for a procedure to take biopsies, I was wrestling.  I could see the fear in Mark’s eyes, and all I could do was avoid talking about it, trying to ignore what we might need to face.  I was washed with guilt… surely my friend who lost her daughter didn’t think she would also have to say goodbye to her husband and raise her remaining children in the thick of so much grief… and here I am complaining.  God never said we would go through something hard and then get a free pass from any more heartache.  In fact, He said in this world we WILL have trouble… but the promise in that is He has overcome the world.  That is a powerful promise, but still difficult for me to cling to when I felt so much fear.
As I felt myself begin to doze under the anesthesia, my only prayer was “God, please.”
The news is outstanding…. NO cancer, NO clotting.  It is so much easier for me to praise right now than it was for me to trust.  But God promises to use even a LITTLE faith, so I guess He’s not done with me yet:) 
We are breathing a huge sigh of relief and trying to teach ourselves that no matter what comes our way, we are more than conquerors.  We will continue to forge a path through the wreckage, one step at a time.
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That Ellie-Shaped Hole

Hannah

Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s… One thing these special days have always had in common for us is family.  A time to be together with the ones you love the most; to enjoy each other’s company, and share in each other’s joy.  Only this year, these days will reverberate echos of sadness as we try not to keep staring at the empty chair among us. 

Frankly, I would be content to just fast-forward through the holidays this year.  Better yet, rewind to this time last year when Ellianna was snuggled safe and secure inside my womb… before she felt any pain, and before we knew the pain of losing her.  How about a re-do?  I’m sure I could fight harder for her this time.  Unfortunately, that is not a reality.  I must try to find peace in knowing her pain is gone and she is whole once more.

What will it be like to have Thanksgiving dinner uninterupted by the needs of our 8 month old?  Will we be able to hold back the tears at the sight of a lone, empty stocking hanging between ours?  As we count down to a brand new year, will we be able to look past the agony of knowing she will not be here to celebrate her birthday?  Most of all, will there come a day when it no longer feels like our hearts are shattered beyond repair?  Because we choose hope and we know faith, the answer is yes.  Healing will come.  For this season though, the pain is immeasurable.  It’s hard to feel joy and it’s hard to give cheer.  We are clinging to each other, taking one day at a time… bracing ourselves against the storm.  Aching from the deepest places within us to not see our beautiful little girl in that empty chair.

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hope, love, marriage

The Love of my Life

Hannah

This week Mark and I are celebrating our 10th wedding anniversary. A whole Decade. Wow.
Are there people who thought we would never make it? Most certainly. Were there times that nearly broke us apart? You betcha. But the thing is, when God looks on something and says it is good, IT IS GOOD. We have been continually molded and shaped and taught how to love each other and rise above the hurdles that are thrown in our path. In spite of every attempt the enemy has made, God’s hand has faithfully been on our lives, pointing to the beautiful purpose that He is fufilling through our love.
So 10 years later through the raw grit of life, I have a greater love and understanding of the man that I chose to spend every day of my life with…
10 Things I Love About Mark…
1) He still kisses me goodnight, even when he *thinks* I am sleeping.
2) He is not afraid to show his tears.
3) He always makes time for our children.
4) He kills all the spiders.
5) He supports me and helps me reach my goals.
6) He is “better than me” at driving the babysitters home.
7) He makes sure our girls know they are beautiful– inside and out.
8) He is SO patient.
9) He is a darn good cook.
10) He is the glue that has held us together through some of the hardest days of our lives.
Celebrate with us. God has chosen something impossible and made it something beautiful, and we hope that we will be a reflection of that promise of healing to anyone who sees us.
Happy Anniversary Buddy!!!
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Good Things

Hannah
In all the hurt and uncertainty… good things are happening…. This week marks the first steps in some important journeys for our family…
Please remember us in your prayers this week… pray we will stay focused and working as a team… that we will make it to all of our appointments with as little stress as possible… that we will be protected from negative thoughts… that we will be rested. That God will do great things in us and through us. We believe…
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From the Mouths of Babes

Hannah

“From the mouths of infants and children, You have created praise.”
Matthew 21:16
Morning time holds a special time of prayer for the kids and I.    It began as me praying for them each morning while they listened. Now it soothes my heart to see how they are learning to pray and growing in their own understanding of who God is. They are so simple and honest… many of us adults can learn from the humble prayers of a child. How often we get concerned whether we are using the right words or making our prayers sound good, and yet it is the words of the children we know are close to the heart of God. I want to share some of the things these precious little souls are praying for… and hope they make your heart smile like mine.
“Please hold Ellianna in Your lap in Heaven and keep her safe” -Jacob
“Please help Mommy not be afraid” -Baylie
“Help me to have a happy heart today” -Bella
“Please help those Angel Guards keep Satan out of Heaven” -Jacob
“Please let Ellie see your rainbow horse” -Baylie
“Help me do my best and not listen to lies” -Jacob
“I hope Ellie is having fun with you in Heaven” -Bella
“Help our friend to believe in You” -Baylie
These simple and heartfelt conversations show me the trust and faith that is molding their lives and giving them hope… and it encourages me to hold tight to my own.
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faith, grief, losing a child

Empty Space

Hannah


Two months have gone by since we gave our little girl back to Heaven… a blink in the face of eternity, but it feels like so much longer in the lonely expanse of the days spent without her. Some days I am able to smile as her sisters talk about her coloring up in Heaven, or when I feel relief that I don’t have to protect her from anything. Most days though, I’m just sad. I feel jealous when I’m around other families who are smooching on tiny cheeks or rubbing rounded bellies that are about to burst with fresh new life. Then I feel guilty for feeling that way and wish that I had more grace to bestow.

I feel alone and left behind. The rest of the world has moved on, and I am still swallowed by a sea of grief. No one can possibly feel what I still feel when I walk down the hallway and see her bedroom untouched, her tiny diapers still in a neat stack.

No one knows how I swallow tears when I buckle the other kids in our van, which seems too big now with that empty seat. No one thinks how every time I see the precious pictures of her on our wall that there won’t be any new ones to add. She was here, and there are pieces of her everywhere. Pieces that stir such emotion, it’s enough to break a soul. The first days after she died, I felt numb. Numb allowed me to keep going, to get through what needed to be done. Now I find myself wishing for that numbness instead of this shattering pain.
When my 3 children walk side by side I see a space… a hole where my littlest girl will never skip along beside them. When other people see us, they must not understand why we have anything to be sad about. They tell us how lucky we are to have the children we do…. They say how nice it must be to just have one child at home during the day… they say she was lucky to have lived as long as she did. I am not at a place where I can see the glass half full yet. Although I am happy to know Ellianna is whole and well and living in glory, I still miss her and yearn for her here… and I will, until I go Home.

It must be terribly awkward for people. People do not like to see pain. They want to know we are ok, that we are moving forward, and that we won’t break into tears in the middle of a conversation. That’s the thing about grief… it’s not something that goes away in a month, 6 months, a year… we are in it for the long haul. At Christmas when there is an empty stocking, we will be sad. 5 years from now when she is not starting Kindergarten, we will be sad. When there is no prom, no high school graduation, no wedding…we will still feel the pain and sadness of losing Ellianna. Many people are afraid of that; afraid to see us hurting… so they distance themselves, afraid to say or do the wrong thing. Well the wrong thing is to ignore it. We still need to know you’re here for us just as much as the day that she died. We need to know that you’re not too nervous to be around us, that you understand when we cancel because we have been hit by a new wave of grief, that you’re willing to talk about her, to say her name, to let us know that you have not forgotten.

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grief, losing a child

Lean In To It

Hannah

“How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?” Psalm 13:2

The grief of losing a child is immeasurable. It is a weight that lays over me like a heavy heavy blanket. Having other children I have learned, multiplies that grief because I am also grieving for the hearts of my living children. I am broken by the hole of losing my daughter and also bearing the burden of her three siblings who have lost a little sister. I am watching my 3 year old play that her baby dolls are dying and being buried… I am sitting with a 6 year old who wants to know why Jesus didn’t let Ellie come back like in the book “Heaven is for Real”… and explaining to a 9 year old that just because we didn’t get the answer we wanted, God is still sovereign. I am watching a 5 year old just a whisper away from death, and wondering if I still believe in miracles.

I know how this story ends, but that does not stop the enemy from planting doubts.

Mark and I started attending a Grief Share group this week. We had some challenges getting there, and almost didn’t make it, but we sure know now that there is something special in store for us. We met a young couple whose baby girl was born at the same hospital the day Ellianna died, and their baby girl, Lily Grace, died ten days later. What an amazing source of comfort it is to have someone who almost literally stood in our shoes. God places the right people in our lives at just the right time. It has been frustrating to us to feel like we are stuck while everyone else has moved on with life… our group is a place where we can be in that spot with others who are walking the journey right along with us. If you are grieving, or need to grieve a loss that you haven’t yet, find a Grief Share near you… it is a powerful resource for an impossible hurdle… http://www.griefshare.org/.

Someone told us grief is something you have to go THROUGH. You can’t go over it, you can’t go around it, you have to go through it…so LEAN into it. Like an ocean wave. That is what we are doing. Sometimes the waves are gentle, sometimes they knock us off our feet, but we are in a journey we can’t avoid.

Please don’t stop praying for us…

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