tiny feet

Eli had beautiful little feet.  I let the kids pick some special shoes for Eli that we could put on him after he was born.  He was able to wear the shoes they had chosen, and they were able to bring the shoes home to keep.  It is a beautiful reminder that while his mortal feet did not walk, his spiritual feet are very busy walking now.  The spirit world is an orderly place and Eli has specific things he is doing.  He isn't messing around and relaxing his feet on an ottoman.  He is anxiously engaged...moving...just as we should be.  These shoes help us remember who he really is.

Clubs

I recently read a poem that described a lot of my feelings. This woman describes her experience going to a book store after her newborn died.  Instead of buying a book about babies, she was buying a book about grief.

"The titles inviting me to join

their band of broken hearts and shattered lives.

I want to scream-I do not belong here!

...I choose the book on grief

and lay it on the counter like an unclean thing.

The eyes have changed, they look away,

no longer wanting to see inside you.

They secret my purchase away

but I am not concealed

I have been torn open for all to see..."

Remember in high school when you were able to take part in extracurricular activities...some of them being clubs.  There was FHA, FFA, NHS, Key Club, chess, etc.  What if you showed up on the first day of your freshman year, and they randomly selected students to be in certain clubs?  You didn't get to choose.  Well... no one would like that.  The whole point of these clubs is to find something that suits you and helps you interact with like minded people.  What if, for example, there was a toilet cleaning club.  5 out of 2000 students were selected and were in charge of cleaning toilets every Wednesday for 3 hours after school. Students in this club wouldn't be able to be part of any other club for the duration of their high school experience.  

I feel like I am a new member of a club that no one wants to belong to. It is the club of mothers whose babies have died.  People shudder, sometimes literally, when they hear about this club. They say, "I can't even imagine." 

No.......you really can't imagine. 

I imagined and imagined and imagined from July until November, and I couldn't have imagined how this would be.  It is a small band of sad women, who feel relegated to dark, lonely place. They thought they would be in the club of "New Mothers," which makes the contrast seem even more unbearable.  They are on the outskirts of the rest of the population; just in seeing and hearing distance from the "New Mothers" club they had planned on joining.  This club looks sickly and feels like death, and everyone in this club has thought that death would be preferable to this place on at least one occasion. There isn't much to look at in our club besides empty arms and shattered dreams, so a lot of women find themselves looking longingly towards different clubs...but mostly just the one club.

Many people like clubs of one kind of another. I'm not sure we call them "clubs," but that is what they are.  Here are some easy bumper sticker examples.  I am in the "RAGNAR" club.  I am in the "LOTOJA" club.  I am in the "My child is an Honor Student" club.  I am in the "Baby on Board" club.  I am in the "Obama Hater" club.  You don't see bumper stickers that say: I am in the "sit on the couch and eat Cheetos all day" club.  I am in the "my child gets C's and D's club."   I am in the "I forgot to vote on election day" club. Or even worse: I am in the "infertility" club.  I am in the "Yearning to be Married" club.  We don't want to brag about those things.  We don't like being in those clubs.  We like to take credit for all the "good" clubs we are in, but don't put a spotlight on the clubs we don't like.  There is no bragging in the club I belong to. No one wanted to be a member. 

When someone new joins the club we all weep when they arrive.  We never want anyone else to come and join us.  We would rather everyone was in the "New Mothers" club even if we can't be there. When you first arrive, it feels wretchedly unfair that you have to be here at all.  You are happy there is support and love, but you can't get over the fact that you hate this place. You hate that you are a lifetime member.

You do different things in this club.  Going to the cemetery on holidays has become a new tradition for many of us.  You are grateful you have a place to go, but feel too young to be there in the first place.  On the 23rd of December we went "shopping" for headstones.  It was as unpleasant as it sounds.  I was bitter that my holiday "shopping" was limited to this right now. Who in the world does that when they are only 33?  Someone in my club does that.

For Christmas, I was planning on buying tiny shoes and socks for my bundle of joy.  Instead I got to buy a wreath to put on his grave.  When I imagined spending Christmas with my new baby, this isn't what I had in mind.   When you get gifts you don't get sweet little outfits and diapers.  You get books about grieving and calming bath salts.  Because you actually have time to read books and take baths every night now that your baby is gone. Please don't think I am ungrateful for the above gifts.  I most definitely am grateful.  I need those things in abundance right now and I truly appreciate them.  I am just sad that I am in the club that has to receive those gifts.  When someone picks out a card for me they don't go to the "welcome baby" area.  They go to the sympathy and condolence section. I only know because I recently bought a card for someone in that area and it seemed like a cruel irony. 

There are initiation requirements for some clubs.  In the "New Mothers" club you are initiated with nursing problems, sleepless nights and a post baby body.  In my club, you still have your milk come in, but no baby to feed.  You still have sleepless nights, but not because you are snuggling your baby.  You usually have a post baby body too, but no baby to validate that either. 

My friends say I still belong to their "club," but I know I don't.  I can't anymore.  At least not right now.  I feel like I have been marked.  I will always be here, but someday I can be part of other clubs again.  Clubs of my choosing, hopefully.

Be thou my vision

Be Thou my Vision

Sometimes it's hard to look up because we are so accustomed to looking around, but we still have to try.

Sympathy vs Empathy

Take 3 minutes and watch this short clip...it is well worth your time...

Sympathy vs Empathy

Do you want a sandwich?  (It will make sense after you watch it)

lesson 5

My favorite and the most beautiful lesson I learned...

Eli taught me that the feelings of love we have for someone is its own reward.

 I had a powerful realization that day after Eli passed away. I realized that the love I had for him was its own reward. I think we very often times love or "show love" to people, hoping we will get a reciprocal love from them. We think that the love they give to us will be the reward for loving them. This isn't true.

I had an experience where I felt God very specifically directing me to pray that I would receive Eli with all the love I had in my heart. I had worried about this a bit because I feared my time with him would be too short to have that love fully matured and realized. God had literally told me exactly how to ask for this and was able to give it to me because I had asked. 

I want to share some of the feelings I have for Eli. No words could ever adequately communicate the feelings of my heart, but hopefully the spirit will touch you so you can understand a little bit of what I felt.

I have never loved anyone the way I loved Eli. I loved him so completely and so fully so immediately. It was so natural for me to do so. It was consuming and the most beautiful thing I have ever felt. It matured right away... Not like my other kids...it's still maturing w them. When I met him and watched him struggle for his life, all the things I have sacrificed to give him life became manifest. It  was a cumulative effect of the months I had carried him. I was grateful that my pregnancy was so hard and that my labor was so hard. It allowed God to be able to let me feel love as strong as my pain had been.  The love I had always felt for him could now  be given to him in the flesh. We really can't experience great joy and love without great sorrow and pain. I've never felt love like that. I know that it was gift from God.

I believe that's how God loves us. So completely...so fully...all encompassing. No selfishness and no strings attached. Just purely. He does only those things that are for our own good. Only those things that will bring us happiness. He loves me enough to give me the best chance to obtain eternal life. He loves us more than I even love Eli, and I can't comprehend that. He loved us enough to sacrifice his own Son. I love Eli. I've never loved anyone enough to sacrifice Eli in their behalf. Especially for someone who might never accept him. I feel Eli was too precious and too pure for such a fate. Can you imagine how Heavenly Father felt as he gave his perfect and pure Son for our sake? For all of the sinners....which is all of us... It opened my eyes.

Now that I don't have Eli in my arms the pain is immense, but I wouldn't trade those moments of love I had with him for a lesser pain or sorrow. That kind of love is worth any price. And someday I will have all the time I want to love him in the flesh. 

Eli taught me that the feelings of love we have for someone is its own reward.

2 songs

There are two songs that I want to tell you my thoughts about.  

The first is: Mary, Did you know? I really despise this song.  If it comes on the radio, I demand we change it, and fast!  Do you want to know why such strong negative feelings from a song about Mary.  Well...the title says it all! Mary, did you know? Uhhh... ya... she knew. She knew better than anyone else.  She was the first one that knew.  She thought about it more than anyone else.  She raised him and thought about his earthly mission everyday.  30 years before most people even had the chance to know him.  SHE KNEW!  What a dumb song!  Did you know, Mary?  Was it a surprise to you?  Do you think that her only sacred experience was when the angel Gabriel came to tell her that she would be the mother of the Son of God?  Hadn't she felt something different her whole life? What about during the years she was raising him?  Don't you think she had a lot of help from His Father?  Anyways... that song really bothers me because it depreciates her very sacred  and integral role in His earthly life. Maybe the song doesn't really mean what it sounds like it means, but I still don't like it.  It should be entitled: Everyone else, did you know? 

The second song: Breath of Heaven.  I don't know if I ever listened to the lyrics before, but I heard it the other day and really listened to it this time.  I always thought it was talking about after Jesus was born...like he was the "breath of heaven" or something.  No...it was written about Mary's pregnancy.  I really started to think about how that might have been for her.  She was given news that she would be the mother of Jesus Christ.  She had never been a mother before.  This was her first baby.  At our house we say, the first child is the like the first pancake....never the best; it takes a minute to get the hang of things.  But, by the time you make the 2nd pancake, the pan in the right temperature, you have the good spatula, and you are in the pancake making groove.  She didn't really have the option of messing the first one up.  She had to do it right the first time. God was His literal Father.  We all want to be good parents, but imagine if the other parent is God.  That would really bring out your insecurities and weaknesses.  What a tremendous weight.  She probably didn't run up to her friends and casually talk about the morning sicknesses and stretch marks.  It wasn't an ordinary pregnancy.  Oh, and remember that she was pregnant before she got married.  Hmmmmm.... quite a lot for a young girl.  The first year of most marriages is a little interesting.  You have to work out a few (or many) kinks.  Maybe their honeymoon was spent walking/riding a donkey to Bethlehem.  How exotic! Joseph and Mary had to be better than that.  Their first child was Jesus Christ.  

This song talks about her pregnancy and the weight she carried.  I don't intend to put myself in the same category as Mary, but thinking about her pregnancy, reminded me of similar things in mine.  I felt a huge weight in carrying Eli.  I knew that he was born to die.  It was a different timetable than Christ, but that is the main reason He was born.  I felt Eli's spirit as I carried him and felt he was superior to me in many ways.  So valiant and immovable.  It felt like a privilege to be part of his life; especially as his mother.  The songs says," Breath of heaven...hold me together, be forever near me."  I felt the need of this heavenly help as the time approached to deliver him.  I knew that what I had to do was not possible if left to my own devices. I relied on God to walk with me, and be right by my side through all of it.  I imagine that Mary felt she needed heavenly support in a mighty way.  I imagine that she waited and waited for her son to be born.  She waited anxiously to meet him, knowing that this meeting would be unlike any other.  I felt that way too. 

Another part of the songs says, "Do you wonder, as you watch my face, if a wiser, should have had my place?"  I wondered that.  Mary may have wondered that. And another line, "I am frightened, by the load I bear...but I offer all I am...for the mercy of your plan." I feel like I offered everything I had to God in this process; physically, emotionally, spiritually...because I knew his plan for Eli was merciful. He was to be spared a mortal experience. I was willing to give that for my son, so he could fulfill his mission here and in the spirit world.

Mary gave birth to her first child in a stable.  I have a problem with foul smells; especially while pregnant.  Can you even imagine that?  Sure...let the cows watch me give birth. How different from what she had probably anticipated.  She wasn't in her home or surrounded by familiar people or things.  And who was with her?  Joseph was there.  Maybe a midwife, maybe not?  And this was her first baby!  How scary!  She had to trust Heavenly Father. Who were the first people to see her.  A bunch of shepherds...humble men, but stranger nonetheless.  I don't usually even like people I know bombarding me after I give birth to my children in a clean, sterile hospital (with visiting hours). I have tremendous respect for Mary.

Breath of Heaven

Lesson #4

Eli taught me that Our mortal bodies are so sacred..much more than I had ever before supposed.

We were able to care for Eli's body after he had passed away. We washed and cleaned him very slowly and very meticulously. It was very sacred. I wondered if it would be uncomfortable to do this. That was not the case.  It felt to natural to care for him even after his spirit had left his body. His body was very sacred. I felt a great privilege in being able to do this.  We were also able to dress his body before we buried him.  That, too, was a very special experience.  I looked at his mortal tabernacle with such awe.  I felt so protective of his body after he passed away.  I was surprised to feel this way.

That experience made us think of those who cared for Jesus' body after he was crucified. I understood the sacredness of our body so much more after that. It is truly God's creation. Eli's body had done exactly what it needed to do. He had finished his work while In the flesh. Could we say the same when we are laid to rest? He came to touch hearts and teach us certain things and God gave him the exact body he needed to do this. 

As he lay there on the table, I had the thought that it had taken 9 months to create him and he had only needed his body for about 5 hours. I didn't feel cheated or robbed by this timetable. I had the thought that God works in mysterious ways. 

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.

For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts."

Isaiah 55:8-9

Eli taught me that Our mortal bodies are so sacred...much more than I had ever before supposed

The bitter cup

In a talk by Neal A. Maxwell, he talks about drinking a bitter cup without becoming bitter.  I understand this idea and understand why it can be a challenge.  When I went through the last half of my pregnancy, knowing that Eli would die, life seemed extremely bitter. There was a constant reminder that, while it looked like I would have a healthy, bouncy baby boy, I wouldn't.  I hated the questions about when I was due.  People would say how exciting it was and how wonderful little boys are.  They would ask about my other kids and go on about how my boys would be so excited to have a little brother they could play with. It was all kind hearted, but so painful to hear over and over again.  Occasionally, I would just blurt out what was really going to happen so they would stop talking.  I'm sure I really made some people feel awful, but I just couldn't listen to it all the time.  Other people, who knew what was going to happen, would totally ignore me, because it was too weird to talk to me with an elephant (or me) in the room. It was bitter and I knew it would continue to stay that way for awhile.

After Eli died, I realized that the first 4 months were like an appetizer.  The bitterness was deeper and more painful now. But at least complete strangers didn't have a clue what was going on now and wouldn't ask me anymore questions.  That was nice.

"Whatever the form the test takes, we must be willing to pass it.  We must reach breaking points without breaking.  We must be willing, if necessary, to give up our lives-not because we have a disdain for life as some do, but even though we love life-because we are the servants of Him who did that in such an infinite way for all of us.  Moreover, partaking of a bitter cup without becoming bitter is likewise part of the emulation of Jesus."

Applying the Atoning Blood of Christ

Story time

Our experience with Eli was so unique because we had a lot of warning before he died, but not very much actual time with him.  I always felt he would be born alive, although I didn't know this for sure.  In the early days of our journey we talked about what we wanted to do with the limited time we would have with Eli. It was a time to look for purpose and be deliberate, and not just find things to fill up time.  We could all do better with this idea... including me.  I don't usually feel like my time with someone has an expiration date, but I did feel like that with Eli.  I couldn't wait until later to do this or that. I didn't have tomorrow to hold and kiss him.  It didn't matter if I was tired or in pain... I only had today.  

It was a blessing to be able to live like that for the months leading up to his arrival and during the time he was with us.  We didn't do ANYTHING haphazardly.  We just didn't have time for that. There was a day, I remember distinctly, that I was laying in my bed in the middle of the afternoon (trying to stave off the nausea with a little shut eye).  My eyes were wide awake, and I knew that on another occasion, I would have deemed that a waste of time; just laying there and not sleeping. I would have gotten up and done something "productive."  But I didn't that day. I just layed there and held my tummy and tried to soak in that moment.  I thought that this was my chance to take a nap with my baby.  Usually I have done that, quite by accident, after having a newborn, because of the exhaustion that comes with that.  I knew this was my only time to talk a nap with Eli.  I held onto him, literally and figuratively, knowing that I wouldn't get naps like this in the future.  It is a challenge to live like that all the time because we always think we will have another day.  But what if you don't?  

"Dream as is you'll live forever.  Live as if you only have today. -James Dean. 

How often do we do that?  How often do we do take full advantage of strengthening a relationship in the moment, because that is the MOST IMPORTANT thing we could be doing with our time. I have been annoyed with all this holiday cheer...That's just where I'm at right now.  I think "Are all of these things that everyone is doing strengthening relationships?" If what you are doing is really going to strengthen a relationship, then, by all means, do it!  If it isn't, it's a waste of time! A big, fat waste of time. Instead of spending 3 hours researching which game would stimulate your preschoolers brain activity, why don't you spend 10 minutes deciding on which game to buy and the other 2 hours and 50 minutes playing with that preschooler? That will stimulate their brain.  I don't care how good the other game is.  It won't strengthen your relationship unless you sit and play with them.

I'm pretty sure you all know this, but when you die, you don't get to take your Christmas presents with you.  No one will care if your stockings matched.  No one will care if your had a perfect place setting for Christmas dinner.  God doesn't care. It will matter if you looked at someone while they were talking to you.  It will matter if you gave someone a hug and told them you loved them.  You only get to take a couple of things with you; relationships and knowledge. We are wasting a lot of time, my friends.

We didn't have moment to waste with Eli.  It was very easy for us to decide how we would spend our time with him.  We wanted to give him a blessing. We wanted to hold him and kiss him and talk to him.  I wanted to do skin to skin with him.  We wanted to read some stories to him.  We wanted to sing to him.  We wanted pictures of this so we could remember.  We didn't plan anything else besides that.  My mind couldn't go further than that, and nothing else seemed important.  We were able to do all of those things... and nothing else mattered.

One of the books we read is entitled: 

Love is you and me

"Love is me.... and love is you. So when you smile, I smile too.

When you're around the skies are blue. It's like being happy! times two.

Love is...sweet.

Love is GRAND!

Sometimes love is just holding hands.  It's a feeling inside.

It's a smile in your heart.

It keeps us together when we're apart.

Love is fun! It's feeling free!

Love lets you be who you want to be.

Love will catch you when you fall.

Love! It's the greatest gift of all.

It's just us two...without a care.

It's what we give...

and the times we share.

It wipes away the tears...send our troubles along...

Love is the place where you always belong.

And we've got love-me and you. We're sticking together. We'll see it through..and wherever we go...

Love will always be...because

love is you and me.

It was written for me and Eli...or so I felt, the first time I read it.

I have read that people stay in their grief longer because they feel it connects them to their loved one. I very much understand that idea.  But after I read this book, I heard the spirit whisper to me that my love would connect me to Eli; not my grief.  It was a powerful truth that gave me hope, and helped me understand that love is more powerful than sorrow or pain. Love endures, while those other emotions fade.  

Lesson #3

Eli taught me that Our Spirits are stronger than our bodies

  

Eli taught us a very powerful lesson. Life is going to be harder than you thought. Right after Eli was born they took him over to the little bed where they take babies after they are born. They dry babies off  and move them around and usually you see an active, pink baby that looks a little shocked from the trauma of birth. you hear a beautiful little cry.  That cry warms your heart because it means your baby is alive and well.  When they took Eli over to the bed we saw no movement and heard no cry. His experience was probably harder than he had imagined. I would have to think that he had been prepared in every way he could have been...intellectually, but as he lay there on the bed, he was sorely amazed at the difficulty it took to stay alive. From a medical standpoint, he should have died right then or minutes after. He lay there on the bed, totally motionless for over 10 minutes as they used a bag and mask to breathe for him. The doctors and other professionals helping us knew we wanted to bless him and allowed Jason to pick him up while they continued to breathe for him.  We quickly had our family member come in.  Jason gave him his first and last blessing on this earth.  It was a beautiful experience.  They finally decided to stop breathing for him.  It had been over 35 minutes since he had been born and he hadn't taken a breath on his own or moved his body.  He began to breathe.

We have learned that our bodies are an instrument of our spirits. Our body  is a tool through which our spirit works... Eli had a frail body. It was hard for me to imagine this when he was inside me.  He was so active and kicked and moved just as much as my other kids had. But, after he was born is was evident right away that he wasn't going to be here long.  He hardly moved his body.  I don't think anyone really knew this except me and Jason because we were the ones who handled his little body.  If he moved a hand or a foot we were really excited.  He had hardly any muscle tone and it felt as if he would break if you weren't perfectly careful with him.  At one point, i was holding him against my chest and his little arm was down at his side.  I realized it and thought he was uncomfortable in that position, but didn't have the strength to move his arm at all.  At one point, when he was doing fairly well, we decided to put his special little team G onesie on.  It was almost too much for him. 

His oxygen was so low and his co 2 was so high that his higher brain functioning wasn't working.  The reason they explained this to us was so that we would know that Eli wasn't in pain... that he wasn't uncomfortable or suffering. But it helped me to understand that What we saw from Eli was his spirit shining through. His spirit was communicating with us. His body was capable of no such thing. I have no doubt that he was communicating with us. Let me share a few examples of things we saw from him.  When Katelyn would talk he seemed to recognize her voice.  He would try to open his eyes for her.  It took such effort and looked terrible strenuous.  He was able to get them open some of the time.  At one point, the sun was shining through the window on his face.  He strained to open his eyes to see it. He was only able to open the one eye that was being hit by the sun.  I imagine that he was used to such bright light from being with Heavenly Father and this brightness was familiar to him.  There was a time when me and Jason were alone with him.  We were able to sing some songs to him that are special to us.  He made some noises back to us in an effort communicate.  It was very obvious to us when he did this. 

I have looked at the pictures we have over  and over and over again.  I look at every detail, but mostly his face.  I can see when he is relaxed and content.  It is when we are holding him.  There are some pictures of him laying on the bed.  His face looks different in these pictures.  Not distressed, but not as content.  There is a couple of pictures of him being placed on the scale to be weighed.  He is mad and his face looks distressed.  You can tell so much by looking at someone's face. We understood how Eli felt by looking at his face.  Right before he passed away he raised him arm up.  This was  a big deal because he had hardly moved at all... so moving his whole arm was quite a feat for him. We had no idea he was about to die at that point.  He was doing just fine only minutes before.  We felt it was his way of communicating with us about our family.  Jason has coined the phrase..."onward and upward"  after he gave us this sign.

His spirit is what kept him alive for that long...it certainly wasn't his body. He should have died on that table...but as soon as Jason picked him up and held him and blessed him he began to breathe in his own. there is no medical reason this is possible. I have at tremendous amount of respect for Eli and his will to live and fight. I have never seen anything so beautiful and so strong as I saw that day in the hospital room.  I think he must have also been surprised with the love he felt from so many family members. I sense that this was more beautiful than he had anticipated and wanted to linger for a little while.

 Our spirits really are stronger than our bodies... Eli showed us that.

a laughing matter

We received Eli's death certificate a few weeks ago.  It was a weird thing to get.  You don't really want to get one of those. It looks very similar to a birth certificate, but is less wordy. I was interested what it would say. I wasn't overly sad when I got it.  I just read over it a few times to see what the world had to say about him. I love to see his full name written out.

Eli Aaron Gause

It makes me feel like he is acknowledged.  It comforts me. There is a spot on it that says: Education.  

On Eli's it says: 

Education: None

I started laughing... out loud.  I thought that was a little paradoxical.  I have learned so much from Eli and his mighty spirit.  I get why they had to write: "None," but it was so inaccurate that it made me laugh.

emotional chemotherapy

I have never had cancer. I have never gone through chemotherapy.  But, the way I understand it is that you basically try to kill the cancer cells before they kill you. It is a very aggressive thing to do to your body.  It kills a lot more than cancer cells.  It ravages your body and, in the end, you are alive, but barely.  And hopefully it actually killed the cancer. You go in for several treatments.  I imagine you are horribly sick after a treatment.  You probably start to feel a little better just in time for your next treatment. Then, you get to go in and do it all over again.  FUN!  Part of you is literally dying, but your vital bodily functions continue to work.  It isn't supposed to kill you, but you may feel like it is killing you (or you may wish you were dead). You have "good days" and "bad days," but if were being honest, the good days are nothing like you felt pre-cancer.  They are just good considering the fact the you have a life threatening illness that you are fighting.

I feel like I might be going through something called emotional chemotherapy.  That isn't a medical term. I made it up.  I feel like I do okay sometimes, but then get knocked over with another treatment.  My "treatments" aren't scheduled, so its always a surprise. Sometimes the fall out of the treatment is short...sometimes its long. It's not very predictable.  I feel like my vital functions are mostly working, but a big part of me feels dead.  People say I am "strong" and I wonder if they see all of my hair falling out and me vomiting for days after a treatment (I mean that metaphorically, of course). Well, I don't feel strong.  The treatments vary. Sometimes they are brought on by nothing at all. Sometimes its by seeing a bumper sticker or hearing a hallway comment.  It is usually a common and ordinary thing that causes a treatment to start.  I know some things that trigger me to have a treatment, so I try to avoid those all together. It's exhausting and I wonder if this isn't supposed to kill me.  But, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?  That's a nice sentiment if you don't feel like you are going to die.

Here's another way to understand some of my emotions. I feel like I don't have firm footing right now. I feel like I am in an ocean.  I don't really see the shore.  I know it's there, but I don't know how far away it is, and I would feel better if I could see it.  I am swimming.  Sometimes the water is relatively calm, but I am still treading water, so it gets tiring.  If a wave comes, there isn't much I can do.  I can't put my feet down and try and bear up under the weight.  I just get tossed around. Some of the waves are bigger than others.  Sometimes you go under the water and you can't figure out which way is up.  Sometimes it is sunny. Sometimes it is pitch black and you wonder if JAWS is going to eat you.  Everyone tells you that he won't really eat you, but when it is dark you wonder a little. But, you also realize that you could never tread water as long as you already have.  You failed that part in swimming lessons. So, someone must be helping you.  Someone is showing you which way is up when you are buried beneath the waves.  You wish that someone would just take you to shore in His motorboat while you sip hot cocoa and eat a mint truffle. But, He is taking you to shore. He does it His way, and it is a better way than the hot cocoa idea.

And for one final analogy that I have talked about before: When your arm gets chopped off.  When your arm gets chopped off, everything hurts your open wound.  If someone looks at your arm it might bug you. If someone doesn't look at your arm, it might bug you. If you accidentally brush it against the wall it will hurt. The air hurts it. Everything hurts it. It is just so sensitive and you are constantly changing the bandages making sure it isn't infected. You don't think about anything else except caring for this horrific wound. You try and protect it and may even do strange things in an attempt.. like putting your whole body in a big, plastic bubble. If you stay in the bubble, you will never hear a comment that will hurt you arm.  No one will brush up against it.  A dark tinted bubble would be better so no one could make eye contact with you.  But, we can't totally live in a bubble, and God wouldn't want us to anyways.  That's Satan's idea. You need people to bring you bandages and help you dress your wound; remember that you only have one arm left and its hard to put on your own bandages.  You haven't learned how to function without that arm yet.  It scares you to let anyone else near you wound. But when you do, it is actually quite helpful.  Even if they bump your arm a little, you don't care because they are trying to help you and that's enough.  At first, you might only let certain people help you take care of your wound.  You really have to trust these people and their medical expertise.  You want people trained by the motorboat driver.  He is also a doctor.  In time, you will trust others to help you too. You don't know if anything will ever matter to you again... now that your arm is gone.  You wonder how other people are walking around with missing limbs. But, like an amputation, the actual wound does heal over in time.  You will still have phantom pain. It might still be bothersome when people look or don't look at it, but it won't be as bad as it was at the beginning.  You won't be bothered by the wind or a raindrop on it.  It will get better, but it will never grow back.

Where is my calf?

I read an excerpt from a talk given by Bradley D. Foster entitled: Mother Told Me.  It helped me to understand some of my recent feelings.  The story wasn't really about what I felt, but it helped me put my feelings into words.

"In my profession as a farmer and a rancher, I've had a front-row seat to observe how a mother’s natural affection manifests itself even in nature. Each spring we take a herd of cows and their new calves up along Idaho’s Snake River, where they graze in the foothills for a month or so. Then we round them up and bring them down a road that leads to the corral. From there they are loaded onto trucks that carry them to their summer pastures in Montana...

On one particularly hot spring day, I was helping with the roundup by riding at the back of the herd as it moved down the dusty road toward the corral...

Because it was so hot, the little calves kept running off into the trees to find shade...As soon as we got the herd into the corral, we noticed that three of the cows were pacing nervously at the gate. They could not find their calves and seemed to sense they were back on the road somewhere. One of the cowboys asked me what we should do. I said, “I bet I know where those calves are. Back a quarter of a mile [0.4 km] or so, there’s a stand of trees. I’m sure we’ll find them there.”

Sure enough, just as I had suspected, we found our lost calves taking a nap in the shade. Our approach startled them, and they resisted our efforts to round them up. They were frightened because we were not their mothers! The more we tried to push them toward the corral, the more stubborn they became. Finally I said to the cowboys, “I’m sorry. I know better than this. Let’s ride back and let their mothers out of the corral. The cows will come and get their calves, and the calves will follow their mothers.” I was right. The mother cows knew exactly where to go to find their calves, and they led them back to the corral, as I had expected."

 I have felt really anxious lately.  I'm not sure why, exactly.  It is the same feeling I have when I need to get a lot done and don't think I will have time.  But, I don't have anything I am trying to get done right now. So I couldn't figure out why I was feeling this way.  

I started thinking about how a mother's body changes to support a growing fetus.  Her body prepares for her child to be born.  After the baby is born, her body produces milk to feed the baby.  We don't have to think about these changes.  They just occur.  They happen so we will be able to give and sustain life.  I think that our minds also prepare for a baby.  These changes aren't as specific as milk production or weight gain, but it must occur so we aren't shocked when we have to start caring for our baby. I thought that because I knew Eli wouldn't be here, I wouldn't have that problem.  But I think those feelings are so innate that we can't shut them off.  I am so connected to Eli and my brain hasn't quite processed that the baby I helped create and deliver doesn't need anything from me anymore.  

The other day I was driving Ethan to gymnastics.  Lincoln was in the backseat and Katelyn was at a friends house.  I had the distinct feeling that I had left someone at home and almost slammed on the brakes.  I had to think through it to realize that I really did have everyone.  It felt like someone was missing.  I had forgotten someone.  It happened again about 5 minutes later... a panic feeling that I had left someone at home.  Even though I know Eli isn't here and doesn't need my help right now, my brain hasn't completely processed this.

I feel like one of those mother cows in the corral whose calf is missing.  I am pacing back and forth trying to get out of the gate.  I know that my calf is safe in the shade.  I can't see him.  I believe he is safe, but I still feel unsettled and anxious...just like that mother cow.  I know I should look back to the corral where the rest of my family is. To focus on them right now.  But I feel like I can't rest because my calf isn't with me.  

Can you see the terrible dilemma this causes for me?

I think in time, I will be okay that my little calf is in the shade and I will be okay that I am in the corral, but I wish I could just go back and get him sometimes, so I will feel complete and calm.

Tragedy at winter quarters

There is a sculpture by Avard Fairbanks depicting a husband and wife burying their child.  It is entitled "Tragedy at Winter Quarters." It is in memory of so many pioneer parents that had to leave a child behind during their journey to a safer place.  It shows them standing over a grave, with a shovel in hand; showing us that they had to dig the grave themselves.  They are looking longingly into the shallow grave.  The back of the statue shows roots extending from the ground up to the legs and back of the parents...suggesting that the roots could pull them down to the grave as well.  I could not imagine doing what they did; walking away from a grave that you dug yourself.  I think I might have laid down next to my child and died there.  It would seem like the most logical thing to do at that moment.  I'm not sure if I would be strong enough to walk away.   I thought this image was poignant.

"The death of a parent is considered a loss of our past while the death of a spouse constitutes the loss of our present.  The death of a child represents the loss of the hopes and dreams for our future."
-Joyce and Dennis Ashton

It is hard to bury your past, at times.  It is hard to bury your present.  I don't really know much about that. But it is backwards to bury your future.  It isn't right.  We want to hope for the future and trust in the great things that lie ahead.  How do you bury something that hasn't even happened yet. It seems impossible.  But, when your child dies, that is exactly what you have to do. When you have to say goodbye to someone that you barely said hello to, it makes it hard to go forward.

Lesson #2

Here is lesson #2 that I shared at Eli's memorial:

 Eli taught me about God's use of miracles...

 I learned that the obvious miracles are not ways as the most beautiful ones.

I thought a lot about miracles in July. The "obvious" miracle would have been for Eli's body to be healed.

I thought about so many New Testament examples of Jesus healing people. They all seemed physical at a first glance...and I was puzzled by this.  Why only write about the physical miracles?

I think he was showing us something we would understand...that everyone would understand. We understand a physical miracle. We someone who can't see has their sight restored, it is obvious to everyone.  When someone who has never walked, suddenly has the use of their legs, it is a miracle. Those miracles are beautiful, but don't you think it is even more miraculous when someone is spiritually brought back to life instead of physically? Isn't it more beautiful when someone's spiritual eyes are opened instead of their physical eyes being opened? He is capable of performing those miracles as well. I absolutely believe that God had the power to heal Elis' body, but he didn't.  Eli's body was still a miracle because it was the created exactly as God had always intended.  It gave Eli the gateway to the spirit world, which was the next step in his progression. God really did make Eli's body for his spirit.  Not his spirit for his body.  He didn't mess up.  He doesn't mess up.

I feel like a piece of my heart has been taken away. I feel like the middle of my heart is gone and all the other pieces strewn about. I feel like it is impossible to feel whole until I am with Eli again. I think this is true, I won't feel completely whole until I am with him again. That is a very difficult and depressing thought because there is no resolution in this life. I think it would take a mighty miracle to fix my heart well enough that I could do what God needs me to do for the rest of my life. I feel like it would take a miracle for me to experience joy again. It would take the miracle of the atonement. I know it would be a miracle because it seems impossible, and that's what miracles are...Asking God to help us do something that is, by any earthly standard...impossible.

Eli taught me about Gods use of miracles...

I learned that the obvious miracles are not always as the most beautiful ones 

pictures

Before we had Eli, I read about people who had gone through similar situations.  There was a common thread. The mother's would often say that they would look at the pictures of their baby's over and over again.  They said that the pictures were their most treasured keepsake.  I knew I would love the pictures we would get, but I had no idea how much I would hold onto them.  I thought it was a little odd that these poor mother's would just hold onto these pictures and look at them all the time.  I felt bad for them and thought, "I don't think I will do that." I don't think it's weird anymore.  I look at the pictures we have all the time, over and over again.  I will spend hours sometimes.  I could never thank my friend, Stephanie, enough for her willingness to do this.  She captures things in a beautiful way.  I'm sure you agree after looking at the pictures.  

Originally, I wanted her to take some pictures of Eli, by himself...like the newborn pictures you see on pinterest.  I didn't think it would be quite the same because of the limitations we faced, but I still wanted some like that.  I do have some like that, but it turns out that those aren't my favorite.  Not even close. I like the ones of our real life. Of me and him. I look like I just gave birth...in my hospital gown, messy hair, no makeup, tired.   I'm not self conscious of these pictures at all.  They are beautiful to me because they capture what really happened. We didn't have a chance to bathe Eli before he died.  He was too unstable and it wasn't important.  His hair is dirty and there is blood on him in all of these pictures. He looks perfect to me. That's the way he came and that is the way he went.  

Before we went to the hospital, everything we had been living for was in the future.  We were waiting to meet Eli.  We were anxious about what would happen and how long he would be here.  I thought of little else for the months leading up to November.  In less than 24 hours everything shifted dramatically.  We made the fateful trek to the hospital, I went through labor, we met our precious Eli, he died, we cared for his body, they took his body away, and we drove home. Now everything we had waited and hoped for was in the past.  It was over...just like that.  Almost like a dream. I am looking in the past now, trying to hold on those moments. So, I stare at the pictures a lot and it brings me back to that day.  Back to him. 

shut in vs shut out

Ok, after my last post, I had a good friend talk to me about what to do when the person needing help shuts you out.  I haven't been on this side of the fence recently, but let me tell you my thoughts.  The first couple of weeks after Eli died, I hardly talked to anyone. I talked to Jason and God.  I did this because it was all I could do at the time.  It wasn't necessarily because I was too sad, mad, angry, etc to talk.  It was just way too much to process. There were simply too many emotions for such a finite mind to go through.  If I did have a day where I felt okay, I was scared to talk to anyone for fear that they would say something that would send me into a tailspin.  If I was having a really awful day, it usually took me at least a day to identify what I was feeling.  So, no matter what kind of day it was, I didn't talk to anyone.

 The reason I tell you all of this is because I didn't even feel capable of talking to anyone for a couple of weeks.  It has been 5 weeks ago since Eli was born, and I feel a lot more capable of talking now.  But, I still struggle sometimes and shut the world out.  It is a way to cope and process what it going on inside of you.  I received countless texts and emails in the days following Eli's death.  I don't think I responded to any of them.  I felt incapable.  I didn't answer my phone.  I received cards and didn't read a lot of them until later.  I would open one here and there.  It was too overwhelming to open them all.  I am usually a very capable person so feeling overwhelmed by the thought of reading a card was foreign.  It's not that they didn't help.  It was just overload. 

But, I did know that people were there.  I wasn't trying to shut them out.  I needed to know people cared even though I wasn't responding. I needed to know that when I did feel like I was ready to talk, my friends and family would be there.  I actually became a little anxious about this idea. I was worried that by the time I came out of my cave, everyone would be sick of waiting outside and would have left.  I still feel a little like a cave woman right now.

I also felt like I was stuck between two worlds.  I think I was.  I feel that slipping a little more each day and I don't like it.  Even though being stuck there made me almost unable to function, I don't want to come back and accept that I am really stuck here for now with only an occasional glimpse of where I was with Eli.  Eli was never part of this world.  But, he is a part of me, so if I come back to my life, he won't come with me. That's how I feel, at least. He never left the hospital, so when I come home, I don't look at his room and remember him.  I don't want to come back to where he is not.  I can't quite accept that he will never be part of my world... the one I am living in now. 

An event as dramatic as a death brings a lot of new emotions.  It can make a very good relationship feel strained. I don't know how it feels to be on the other end, but I'm sure it feels very hard, and maybe even upsetting, when someone doesn't respond to you.  It may feel like you are unwanted or unloved.  Like the friendship you thought you had, is either gone or changed so much that it will never be as sweet as it used to be.  I'm sure this is a tool of the adversary.  Our relationships are our most treasured thing in this life.  There are only a couple of  things we take with us when we die, and our relationships is one of them.  Our relationships sustain and carry us through difficult circumstances.  Of course, Satan would want to destroy that. He will put a wedge between you and someone you love however he can. He wants everyone to think they are unloved and isolated...no matter your situation.  But, nothing beautiful ever dies.  A beautiful relationship doesn't die when hardship strike.  It may feel unsteady for a bit because the circumstances have changed.  But the relationship hasn't changed.  

And by the way, I hope not to offend people by what I say. I am incredibly blunt.  Some people like it. Some people don't.  I came like this and haven't tried too hard to fight it.  We all get offended from time to time. We all have different life experiences and perspectives, so we see the world from a different angle.  But these are just my thoughts.  It isn't my goal to make everyone feel perfectly comfortable all the time. I just want to share my journey and how it is changing me and opening my eyes; how it is helping me understand myself and God better.  It is carving out places in my soul that haven't been touched before.

It seems like getting our negative emotions out, either through speaking or writing renders them less powerful.  But, when we say or write down our positive emotions, it seem like that power is amplified.  When we share the good, those things seem to expand and grow outward.  When we share the bad, those things seem to dissipate. So, I feel like I share a lot of the bad in order to try and get rid of it.  I also try to share the good, but don't seem as anxious about getting those out of my system. Maybe I should just give the disclaimer that I might say a lot of negative things right now, but if you can be patient and wait, I will tell you more good things in the future.  I have them all written down.

Laena

Our bereavement counselors told us that we need to tell people how to help us... because people don't know.  I guess I forget that.  I forget that people have not experienced what I have experienced.  I think that when they see me or talk to me they should just know what to do.

I have a good friend that very recently lost her baby.  More recently than me.  Her baby's girls name is Laena.  My friend was 20 weeks pregnant when they found out that Laena's heart had stopped beating.  I don't know what that feels like. She had to go to the hospital, knowing that her baby was already gone.  She had NO hope of meeting her alive.  But, she still had to go through the process of delivering her...at the hospital... surrounded by happy mom's and dad's with pink and blue car seats.  She had to go in there with a baby in her tummy and leave there with no baby in her arms.  What in the world?

I feel such a so protective of her right now.  I want to scream at everyone and ask them if they know what just happened.  My heart aches because, although her experience is different than mine, it is very much the same. I would have never realized that until now.  I would have thought it was unfortunate that her "pregnancy ended this way." I would feel bad and maybe take her a loaf of bread and honestly, think she was doing "fine" after 6 weeks or so. Her daughter just died.  I'm sorry if you see if differently, but that is what actually happened.  I have felt this need...since hearing about her loss, to educate the world on how to treat people when this happens.  I feel obnoxious for feeling this way, because I know that I have no authority to speak on anyone else's behalf.  I know that no two peoples experiences are the same.  I know that not that many people read this anyway... so my thoughts are presumptuous.  But I do feel such a need to reach out and love and protect my friend. I want to help her.  I want to help myself too, but everything shifted and changed when I heard about Laena.  I wanted people to understand because I understood at least part of what she was going through.

What are you supposed to do when someone loses a child?

What to do: Something...anything done in love is well received

What NOT to do: Nothing...doing nothing is the worst thing you can possibly do.  It sends the message that you are not important enough to me to try and love you.  I know people don't really feel this way most of the time, but when the end result is nothing...it is hard not to feel this way.

Maybe I should be more specific:

For me, I want someone to look at me in the eye and sincerely ask how I am.  I don't want them to be scared of the answer.  It might be better to say: What was hard for you today? What are you struggling with today? Because you aren't doing "fine" and when someone asks "how are you doing?" we are programmed to say "fine" or "good."  We want to do the socially appropriate thing. We want to give people the answer they want.  But, you aren't doing fine.  How in the world would you be fine?  If you skip over that question entirely and ask a more probing question, you have acknowledged that you know that aren't fine.  Its hard to say "I'm not okay..."  But you aren't.

Use their child's name.  There is no way that bringing up their child will make their pain worse (unless they are blocking all the pain.  I don't know how that works. I haven't tried it and don't plan to).  It can't be worse than it is.  Their child is dead.  Not using their name and not talking about them makes it feel like they never lived at all.. like they didn't exist.  So... I think talking about their child and using their name is a good thing.  It is healing for me to hear Eli's name.  I want people to remember that he is my child. I think that losing a baby can be particularly painful for mothers because no one knew this child.  He didn't run around the neighborhood with friends. He didn't play with cousins.  It makes the loss easier for everyone else, but it doesn't make it better for mom.  I think many moms in this situation walk around with a silent, unacknowledged grief.

Don't assume that faith takes away pain.  It doesn't.  Apathy takes away pain.  That's why the opposite of love is apathy, not hate.  If you love someone, you will be sorrowful when they die.  It is not a lack of faith.  Does our faith in Jesus Christ, and the glorious resurrection bring us peace? Yes. But don't think it takes away the pain. Don't try to slap a gospel band aid on it without realizing the true process of mourning with those that mourn.

Don't assume that the younger the child, the lesser the loss.  You lose many things when you lose a child.  You lose a part of you.  You lose the future you had dreamed and hoped for them. You lose the life you thought YOU would have. You also realized that you won't be with them again until you are dead (which is a long time, when your young child dies).  It has been hard for me because I don't know as much about Eli as I would like to.  I don't know if he is funny (I'm assuming he is because he is related to me)!  I don't know if he is serious and quiet or loud and boisterous.  Is he a peacemaker or does he rough house. I didn't know him long enough to know any of that.  That is good in some ways, but really hard in other ways.  I still have that mother/child connection with him, but have a loss because I don't know him the way I would like to.  I know that I will someday, but, like I said before, that is a long time away.  When you lose a baby, people might think it is better than losing an older child.  I have no idea if it is better?  But it really sucks...it's plenty bad. I hope I never know if one is really worse than another.

I think about becoming more like Christ; how do we emulate him in a situation like this?  What would he do?  Seriously...what would he do?  Would he sit home and do nothing because He wasn't sure what to do?  Would He say nothing because He was so afraid of saying the wrong thing and offending the person.  Now, you might be thinking "Well...He was perfect... He wouldn't struggle with those things like I do.  He actually does know how that person feels." True.  But, he still expects us to try.  He expects us to run to the aid of those drowning.  We shouldn't look the other way and hope they learn to swim. We need to try because He is able to reach that person through us.   I may have been the worst culprit of this not too long ago.  I always felt like I wasn't the right person for the job.  God would surely send someone more qualified than me to their aid.  I am sure I have said more than my fair share of ignorant things to people who were in pain.  But, I have learned a valuable lesson.  You never just sit around and wait to be invited or wait for someone else to step in; no matter what the situation is. If someone is hurting, you run and help them.  I have also learned that the spirit of your help is more important than the help itself.  Even if you say or do something awkward or seemingly insensitive, the love from you is what that person will feel and remember.  I will be different than I have been from now on.This may be a plea for my friend...it is a plea for all of those who carry this grief...often alone and quietly.  Yes... it may even be a plea for myself.

A lot of people have asked me how they can help me.  Sometimes I have something to say, but most of the time I don't know. I want to say: "If you think of anything...let me know. I'm at a loss."  I should say: "Ask God. That's what I am doing.  He always has great ideas."

Don't forget about Laena.  Her precious mother, JaLaine, never will.  Her father, Mike, never will. She was born on Thursday, November 27th.  Her last name is Moore. 

People are hurting all around us.