Psalms 40

From Psalms 40

I waited patiently for the Lord; and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry.  He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings.  And he hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God: many shall see it, and fear, and shall trust in the Lord.

Jelly beans

How do you explain death to a 3 or 4 year old?  Lincoln has asked me a few questions recently and I realize that we will have to continue to discuss many things as he gets older.  We drove to the cemetery on Lincoln's birthday to give Eli a balloon.  I wanted to feel like he was part of our birthday celebrations because he is such an integral part of our family.  It seems to weird to have a holiday or celebration without visiting the cemetery.  I let Lincoln pick out a balloon to take to him.  Lincoln has been okay with the cemetery so far, but is starting to ask more questions.  One time he asked me if Heavenly Father was in the box (casket) with Eli.  I told him no and he became very upset because he thought Eli would be scared without someone in there with him. I tried to explain that he wasn't really in there; that it was just his body, but he lived in heaven with Heavenly Father.  He is four.  He didn't get it.  I eventually just told him that Heavenly Father was in there with him.  When we were driving to the cemetery on Lincoln's birthday, Lincoln was curious how Eli got from the hospital (pronounced hos-ti-bul) to the cemetery.  He wanted to know if he had a car seat?  Good question for a 4 year old.  I told him he had a special place to ride that kept him safe.  Then he asked why Eli couldn't come out of the dirt and come to his birthday party.  He wasn't upset about it....he was genuinely wondering why.  I told him that Eli lived in heaven and he could see us but we couldn't see him.  I need to do more teaching with that glove, hand thing, but there is only so much he can understand.  It doesn't make sense to him, but he isn't upset by it.....thank goodness. I hope it stays that way.  On Valentines day we went as a family to visit Eli at the cemetery.  Lincoln had been carrying a bag of jelly beans around all day that he had received that morning.  I told him he had to wait until the afternoon to eat them and he had been very obedient.  When we were at the cemetery, he told me he wanted to share some with Eli.  He ripped the bag open and carefully placed some on his grave.  We have left them there all this time.  It is beautiful reminder Lincoln's willingness to share something so precious.  Lincoln has come back with me a couple of times since then and he looks at the jelly beans.  They are disintegrating and he tells me that Eli ate them.  Of course he did sweetie.

The part I skip

I seem to write about a lot of things.  I like to write about my thoughts and emotions.  I like to write about chronological events leading up to Eli's birth and events following his death.  It is healing and helpful.  I seem to get stuck in a certain place.  It is right before they took his little body from us and continues until after right after we buried him.  I can write about all the other stuff. I can't write about that yet.  Nor should I.  It is terribly mortal and hard to process in a mortal mind and I don't like it.  This is where we live and this is what we do, but I don't like it.  I can't think of a better alternative.  I have tried.  But, I don't like it.  These events were done in the most tender and kind manner that I can imagine, but I still don't like it. I don't think I will ever like it, but I will have to be able to tolerate it better than I do now.  I may start back tracking in the chronological events or talk about more recent things, but that time is closed for now.

The frailty of life

I don't think we often understand the frailty of life because everything we see is so alive.  This was so apparent to me when I found out that Eli was going to die.  I noticed life in everything....people, plants, insects.  But I also noticed death more often.

Once you have watched someone die, you realize that life is so very fragile.  It makes you feel more vulnerable. It makes you feel like God is in control. Not you.

I have read that people who are grieving a child, don't fear death. I can say I don't fear death anymore.  It wasn't a huge fear before, but it was definitely a fear. Most grieving parents want to die at some point during the early aftermath.  This is true for me. It's not that I wanted to take my own life.  But, when someone you love dies, and you know the only way you can be with them again is to die, it doesn't seem like a bad thing anymore.  It seems like your ticket to a reunion.  It is your ticket.  So, death isn't a big deal anymore.  I'm not even worried about how I will die anymore.  Death doesn't seem so abstract to me anymore.  I have watched someone I love die.  Something that is sacred has been twisted to be a scary idea.  It isn't scary.  It wasn't for me, at least. I thought that handling Eli's body after he died would be weird or scary in some ways.  Again, this wasn't at all the case.  It was very sacred.  Dying isn't the worst thing in the world.  Being left behind might be?

The other day I killed a fruit fly.  I don't love killing bugs, but I also don't like them in my house.  I don't usually go to extreme lengths to preserve their lives by taking them outside, but I do occasionally.  I just don't like to end the life of anything.  I feel bad if I have a plant that dies.  If you saw my yard, you might not think it affects me because lots of stuff dies, but I just feel bad about it.  I feel like if I had taken better care of it, it would have lived.  Well, the other day I killed a fruit fly and instead of feeling a tiny bit bad, I thought to say, "Your welcome."  This place sucks and you get to go on to something better.  You are welcome.  I see death so differently than I used to.

Unresolved

I feel like I am glossing over a lot of my emotions because they are too present and unresolved to share.  It may seem that I am sharing my most difficult emotions in some of my posts.  I am kind of scratching the surface of some of them in my writing.  It's a snapshot.... maybe like the tip of an iceberg.  I think it takes your mind a while to process certain things.  You can't even begin to talk about some things until you have mostly processed exactly what you felt.  And somewhere in my head, I intended to say it all... not sure if that was ever a good idea?

One thing I can say, is that it is so interesting to write stuff down RIGHT when you are feeling it.  I don't censor it or edit it.  I just know that some things are for my eyes only and it is very freeing.  I can't even wait until a few days later....you can capture the emotion much more accurately in the moment.  It is interesting for me to read these things later, realizing that I DON'T feel THAT way anymore.  I could never articulate it after the fact.  There is power in the present.

I also realize that I am feeling more like "myself" because as I venture back out into this world, that I seemed to have left in July, I realize that some people don't like what I say.  They don't agree or they think that this is a forum instead of a blog.  It is my opinion and my experience and maybe it doesn't sound appealing....but oh, happy day- no one has to read it.  It is a free county with freedom of speech....for better or worse. I have found myself being more careful about what I say... in order to keep the peace.  What a bunch of crap!  I don't really operate like that and I certainly haven't for the last several months....mostly because I didn't feel like I was really HERE....in this realm....so I said what I said without thinking of who would like what and where I should edit and where I shouldn't.  Sometimes I lack the confidence to say it like it is, but mostly I don't.

Lincoln's birthday

Lincoln's birthday is March 23rd.  It is our first family birthday since Eli.  Lincoln's middle name is Snow (my maiden name).  It is so fitting as he looks like my side of the family as opposed to Katelyn and Ethan, who look more like Jason.  We found out later that his great, great grandpa was also born on March 23rd. I thought a lot about the day Lincoln was born during my day.  He was, by far, my easiest delivery, which is shocking because he was so large.  His face was so chubby when he was born that he literally couldn't open his eyes for a couple of weeks.  He was not, and has never been frail. I usually think about the day he was born a little bit, but having just given birth to Eli, I thought about it a lot more.  I seem to see everything through a new lens....even my memories.  It made the memory different, if that is possible.  I see it differently.  I like the different lens.  There are more colors;  Good ones and bad ones, but mostly good ones.

Lincoln is very easy to please, so I was happy.  He had 2 requests: A Hello Kitty cake (??) and a red present.  He didn't care what was in the present, as long as it was in red wrapping paper.  When we went to pick out his cake at Macey's I let him look through the book of all the cakes; Spiderman, Monsters Inc., Toy Story, etc.  He had said that he wanted a Hello Kitty cake, but I thought he might change his mind when he saw the other choices.  He didn't and I was perfectly happy to buy him the Hello Kitty cake "with the rainbow."  I don't know if Jason was perfectly happy?  Jason didn't even eat any cake, but it may have been a matter of the excessive food coloring and less to do with the character (although I can't be completely sure).  A few days ago we went to pick out some fun plates and ice cream for his birthday.  Lincoln wanted Ninja Turtles plates and pink ice cream.  He insisted on pink ice cream.  I let him pick a candle and he really wanted the number 5.  I kept telling him that he was only turning 4.  He was well aware of that fact, but told me he liked the number 5 and that's the one he wanted.  Wouldn't that be nice if you could just pick whatever number you want to go on your cake.  I think he's onto something.  We finally agreed on just plain candles with no number.  When we went to pick up his cake, he insisted that he bring a purse.  He has never done that before. I let him, but later told him that purses are for girls.  I don't usually tell my kids that things are for specifically for boys or girls, but I thought Jason would be a bit disheartened to learn that, no only did he pick the Hello Kitty cake, but he was now carrying a purse.  Lincoln told me that purses are for boys and girls.  I didn't argue further.  He carried one around today too.

I think 4 is such a magical age.  I love this little boy so, so much.  He is so easy to love.  He is a total animal and doesn't listen a lot.  He eats constantly and makes messes like the Tasmanian Devil.  He can't sit still for more than a few seconds it seems and is one big circle story.  I was worried I would be "bored" and not have anything to do with just one child home and no baby.  That hasn't really been a problem.  Grieving takes up as much or more time than taking care of a baby.  It wouldn't seem so, but it is the truth for me.  It is more exhausting and really is work.  I am never bored and am grateful for a bright ray of sunshine. like Lincoln, to keep me company.  He is such a light to me. I have a saying on my wall that says: Children are the anchor that hold a mother to life.  That means a lot of things to me, but in reference to Lincoln, I feel like he holds me to this life.  The one I am supposed to live.... in this world.  He helps me understand why I am still here.  Without him I would just have my grief as my companion and that would be more than dismal.  I know that in time my grief will be less invasive and sweeter in some ways.  Even though there will always be sadness, it won't be consuming all of the time.  Thank you Lincoln for coming to our family.  Thank you for being you and never apologizing for it.  I sure love you.

I'm so sad when Mommy comes home

I have joked that when "mommy comes back" everyone will know.  Jason will know because when he walks through the door after work, all of the kids will be crying instead of me. I don't want my kids to cry, but they will when the real mommy comes back.  I have let things slide quite a bit around here.  If you looked a picture of my pantry before and after Eli, you would understand.  They are getting a lot of things they never do becuase I need convenience and something that will keep them happy.  I know there have been at least a couple of days in the last four and a half months where Lincoln has only eaten pretzels until Jason got home.  What was going in the pantry before July was neither convenient for mommy nor happiness inducing for children.  But is was what I thought was best.  I wish my lackadaisical attitude was confined to the pantry, but it's not.  Anyways...it will be a blessed day when mommy comes home, although the kids may not agree. Some day they will thank me? Maybe.  I'll let you know when that happens...both the return of mommy and the thanking.

March 21st

I found out I was pregnant on March 21st....there's that number 21 again.  Here is my story about getting pregnant with Eli: 

We had Lincoln in 2011.  It was a rough pregnancy (just meaning that I was very sick and wasn't sure how I would make it through to the end.)  I remember being 10 weeks pregnant with Lincoln and just breaking down and crying because I didn't know how I would go on.  I felt nauseated constantly.  I would wake up in the middle of the night and feel awful.  I felt awful at the beginning of the day, the middle, the end.... it never went away.  There wasn't a "good" time during the day. It was 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for an entire pregnancy and that wears you down.  I actually prayed that I would be pregnant with twins because I felt we would have another baby after this and didn't think I could do another pregnancy.  I needed this to be my last pregnancy.  I know that's not how it works and I was already pregnant, so..... I was just desperate.  I didn't actual think I would magically have twins   ; )  And then there's the diabetes issues.  Every time I have a baby I go to the doctor afterwards to see if anything has progressed in relation to my diabetes.  This would usually manifest in my eyes as retinopathy, but could also present in any part of me.  It is a progressive disease that affects your vascular system....meaning it affects every part of your body.  It is always progressing on some level, just as our bodies are always aging.  I always need to make sure I am aware of any new developments before I dive into a pregnancy.  I have been so blessed and have been relatively unscathed from my pregnancies, but it is always a concern.  It requires constant vigilance while I am pregnant.  I can't just run and eat a pint of Ben and Jerry's and not have it affect my blood sugars and potentially my baby.  I have to be so careful and it is stressful to watch my blood sugars go crazy at times while forming a tiny human being.

Well, I finally had Lincoln and then the postpartum depression hit.  It wasn't a mild little "baby blues" issue.  I had some postpartum issues after Katelyn and Ethan, but nothing like this.  This time was different.  I'm not sure I knew how bad it was until I started to feel better. It lasted for a little more than a year.  I knew we needed to wait awhile to have another child.  I know that bringing a child into my family is a very big deal.  The pregnancy affects everyone in the family and the post baby stuff affects everyone.  It wasn't just me I had to think about.   I needed to feel responsible and judicious about what I was doing.    And Lincoln topped it off by being deciding not to sleep through the night until 18 months. Needless to say, we don't just get pregnant without a great deal of thought and prayer.  We don't do it because we are trying to have a certain number of kids.  We obviously don't do it because we are bored.  We are not trying to fit some predetermined mold in spacing or quantity.  We would only do it if is the right thing for our entire family.  I felt that Eli was supposed to come.  I felt more strongly about this pregnancy than I have about any of my previous ones.

Going into this pregnancy felt like a stretch.  I get sicker each time and I have more kids to take care of each time.  I was very nervous that the depression might rear it's ugly head after the baby came.  I felt nervous, but I trusted God and knew that He would provide the way through the relentless sickness and the depression, if it came.  I trusted Him, but knew this was not to be a small feat for our family.  It would not be a small feat for me.  But, I knew it was right and that there would be a beautiful addition to our family.  I felt our family would be complete and the time had come for this child join us.

We were very excited, (pretty nervous), but mostly excited when we found out I was pregnant.  I got sick 2 days after taking my pregnancy test; not even enough time to bask in the beauty of this beautiful life that was being formed inside me.  It hit me on Lincoln's birthday.  I will always remember that.  My days of eating and drinking and standing up like a normal person were over for 9 months. But it was okay.  It was more than okay.  It was a blessing....such a blessing.

I went to my 8 week check and they did an ultrasound (which they had never done in any of my pregnancies).  I became somewhat emotional as they showed me the little bean with a tiny heart beating away.  I was surprised how emotional I was.  It was a miracle.  I commented to Dr. T about what a miracle it was.  I told him that of all the children I had been pregnant with, this one felt like a miracle.  It was such a privilege to create a life. I was so grateful for the opportunity to do this and didn't take it lightly.  I felt that despite the physical and mental hardships, I had always been sustained and would be this time too.  I anticipated that I would get through these challenges and be holding a beautiful baby in my arms.

I never could have imagined what lay in store for me.

Zezza

Zezza....

What can I say?  Zezza (Zez, Zezzy) lives next door.  Her name isn't actually Zezza and I'm not sure I know that whole story as to why this became her affectionate nickname.  I'm not going to pretend like I know.  Her name is Sierra.  Near the beginning of her life, everyone seemed to call her Zezza. I felt awkward calling her this.  I felt I was the only one who called her Sierra. I didn't think I was "close enough" to use her nickname.  But after some time, I actually felt awkward calling her Sierra because I was the only one saying it (or so it seemed).

I'm not totally sure why, but Zezza has found a very special place in my heart.  She is one of my little sunbeams and I think that has made the spot even more sweet.  She is the kid who runs outside without her clothes on.  It isn't uncommon to see her in rain boots and a diaper (at least when she wore diapers). Her hair is usually a ratted mess and she has an adorable grin with prominent front teeth.  She has huge, sweet, brown eyes on her tiny face.  And what a sweet little voice.  She isn't confined by her tiny body....very tiny in comparison to Lincoln.... he could smash her if he wasn't careful, and sometimes he's not.  She makes up for her size with her energetic personality. She can really throw a tantrum.  I have seen MANY tantrums in my time, but she has actually scared me.  I didn't know that was possible.  And before you start wondering why she is half naked and doesn't have her hair combed....you must know that her mother, Lindsay,  is VERY responsible.  She clothes her and feeds her and fixes her hair and loves her.  Zezza just takes off the clothes, spits out her food, pulls out her pony tail and screams anyways.  It is NOT a parenting issue (in my opinion).  I can't say exactly why I love her so much, but I do.  I joke with Lindsay that it is so easy to love her because she isn't mine.

Zezza has talked to me a lot about Eli; honestly more than a lot of people I know.  I think it has something to do with the fact that she also invited a baby into her family recently, so the concept of pregnant mommy and new baby resonated with her.  She is younger than Lincoln, but seems to understand things a lot better than him.  She understood the difference between a baby coming home and a baby dying....at least on some level.  I guess I enjoy that she isn't afraid to say something about Eli.  Sometimes incredibly blunt, but, nonetheless true and refreshing.  Lindsay had, at one point, tried to quiet Zezza down.  Zezza told her mom that I told her it was okay to talk about Eli....which I don't remember saying, but I certainly felt and must have communicated to her in some way.  I'm grateful she isn't afraid to say that Eli died.  He did.  I will say it, but most people won't.  It too blunt a word, but it is true.  She will. One time we were talking about Heavenly Father in sunbeams and I was trying to explain to the kids that we have a father on EARTH and a Father in HEAVEN.  They didn't quite get it and just kind of stared at me like I was a big liar.  "Ummmm.....my dad lives in my house"....they told me.  Then Zezza said,  "I know someone who lives in heaven.  Eli lives in heaven."  Another time we were talking about something unrelated in sunbeams and she blurted out, "Eli died.  But that's okay.  He's going to be resurrected."  I have no idea how she even knew the word resurrected, but she did and it was so sweet.  She was quite expressive as she said it. She is always expressive.  I love it.  At one point she asked Lindsay if they could make us Valentines cookies to help make me happy because Eli had died.  So thoughtful....she's only 3! It did make me happy.  It made me happy that someone knew I was sad because Eli died.

I have found that my ability to have good friendships with people right now is pretty minimal.  I feel like sunbeams is the right place for me.  That age group is so healing to my soul.  Zezza was being a little crazy in sunbeams a few weeks ago so I was holding her and trying to distract her.  I started talking about my garden.  I asked her if she would help me plant peas.  She agreed.  We did it today.  I feel pretty capable of having a relationship with a 3 year old.  They are always simple and usually sweet (and if they're not sweet, it's fine because they are only 3).  Nothing is complicated.  Not much is expected except snacks and hugs.  Their "problems" usually boil down to hunger, fatigue or someone taking their toy.  I feel capable of helping with those problems.

I have talked about Lincoln being such a good grieving buddy and I really mean that. He doesn't look at me weird when I don't fix my hair.  He doesn't really care if I can carry on a normal conversation and I can talk about whatever I want with them. He doesn't expect a lot and is content to plant peas and let me hold him.  I don't know what I would do without these sweet three year olds.  It makes sense that we are commanded to become as little children:

"And again, verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become a little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven."  (Matthew 18:3)....for such if the kingdom of heaven.  (Matthew 19:14)

It seems like a good group to hang around with.  It must make me feel close to heaven and that is where I want to be right now become someone I love is there.  It is one of the main reasons I used to work in the NICU.  When deciding where to work I reasoned that babies are the closest thing to heaven and I wanted to be close to that place.  Knowing what I know now, I am sure there were and are many, many angels in the NICU everyday.  I'm not sure I ever understood that while I worked there.

Thanks for planting peas with me Lincoln and Zezza.  Zezza bossed Lincoln around, and, admittedly, he was doing most things wrong and she was doing it right.  And she was wearing clothes (or jammies) and shoes today.... weird.

I just had to add in this pic of her hair.  This is her "normal" hair style.  I love it!

The Salvation of Little Children

Joseph Smith taught the doctrine that the infant child that was laid away in death would come up in the resurrection as a child; and, pointing to the mother of a lifeless child, he said to her: “You will have the joy, the pleasure, and satisfaction of nurturing this child, after its resurrection, until it reaches the full stature of its spirit.” There is restitution, there is growth, there is development, after the resurrection from death. I love this truth. It speaks volumes of happiness, of joy and gratitude to my soul. Thank the Lord he has revealed these principles to us.

“The Lord takes many away, even in infancy, that they may escape the envy of man, and the sorrows and evils of this present world; they were too pure, too lovely, to live on earth.” 

The whole talk is good to read: The Salvation of Little Children

What a wonderful blessing to have these revealed doctrines.  I feel that I grieve with hope, while there may be those that grieve without hope.

In His Hands

This is my favorite "personal account" book I have read thus far.  The author really gets honest and lays is all out for the reader.  After reading several books about this subject I started to realize that people were either holding back on how it really was, or my experience was very different than theirs.   I would read things that in essence said: It was really hard and I was really sad and then I remembered the resurrection and said a pray and felt better.  (I am paraphrasing).... Really? Hmmmmm......This book was better for me to read because I felt I could relate with many parts of it that I hadn't found in other books.  I wanted to hear an honest portrayal of grief.  I appreciated her candor and have a lot of respect for her and her journey. I saw not just where she ended up, but the places she had to go to get there.

Growth and breakage

I look back to the months from July-November, when Eli was growing inside me.  He was growing.  I was growing; my body and spirit.  My heart was growing and breaking all at the same time.  I didn't know that was possible.  My love for him expanded and grew so quickly.  I've never experienced anything like that.

I knew the bigger my heart grew, the more there would be to break.  I didn't care.  It was a beautiful but agonizing experience all at the same time; knowing that every new connection that was formed and every new feeling of protection and outpouring I felt would eventually lead to more pain and more bleeding.  I made a bigger place to be destroyed and more surface area to be skinned and be left bloody and raw.

I act like I made that place....I created the love, but I didn't.  I allowed God to give me that.  I could have shut it down.  That wouldn't have been the natural path for me, but I could have done it.  I sensed that I could have shut it down, but it would have required effort.  Letting the love in was surprisingly easy and I feel comforted by that fact.  My actions were guided by love.  They were guided by the fact that God gives and takes life and it was never in my power to assume that, even though the doctors told me that it was absolutely my "right" and within my "power" to do it.  I knew better. I knew that was the height of presumption.  To take the life that God had allowed to grow in me.  To act like all of the life that he had given me previously, in my other children, but also in my soul, were of my own making.  They weren't and I knew it.  I knew that not allowing the growth of Eli was never REALLY my decision, but the growth of my love for him felt more like a decision; although it was almost as natural as a developing fetus in the womb.

Feeling your heart break, while it is growing so rapidly, is excruciating, but you sense the sacredness of it too.  I feel mostly the heartbreak now, where I felt both almost equally before.  Now one is overtaking the other, but I can't imagine that God will always allow that to be so.

My body and my spirit seemed to wither in almost complete synchrony just as the growth seemed to occur in unison.  The bigger Eli got, the more full my love and my willingness to offer Eli felt.  After he died, my body shrunk almost instantly and so did my spirit.  I was empty; literally.  Everything was empty....everything.  I could feel my physical body with all contents of the womb dead; my excessive water was gone; my muscles had atrophied.  I felt like I would shrivel up.  I have never felt so small.  I have never felt like my soul and my body were in such agreement. I can feel the muscle, literally coming back almost in complete unison with my spiritual muscles.  They are still very weak and smaller than they should be, but they are growing.

Worn

I have been listening to this song the last little bit.  I really like this band (Tenth Avenue North).  Lincoln likes the song because of the "broken tree" in the music video.  Me and him talked about The Tree back in November. The imagery is interesting....

Worn

Team G shirts

Before we got pregnant with Eli we had the idea to get "Team shirts" for our family.  Me and Jason wanted to use this idea of a team to help teach our kids certain principles.  For example, everyone has a "position" to play in the family, just like a team, and everyone has to do their job to make the team work.  Another example:  The team is more important than the individual.  We look at how our decisions affect our team and not ourselves.  If a team player is injured, and can't do their normal job, we all pitch in and help out.   I could go on and on.

When we found out about Eli's diagnosis we knew we needed to make our idea a reality. We went through quite a process to figure out just how to make these shirts.  What to do on the front/back.  We toyed with the idea putting our first names on the front of the shirts above our "G" logo.  We decided against it because we are all on the same team, so we should look the same.  On the back we have the year we were born.  I think it is fitting that me and Jason have the same number (81), symbolizing that we are unified and one in purpose.  I especially love the G that Jason picked.  It reminds me of a shield.  Our family stands a shield against the outside forces that might try to destroy us.  We protect each other and we are protected as we live worthy of our covenants.

We all wore our shirts to the hospital.  I remember how awful I felt when I had to take mine off to put on my hospital gown.  It took me a long time to do it.  I knew that the next time I put it on, Eli would no longer be protected inside of me.  I could have stayed in that shirt forever.

Eli wore a team G shirt after he was born.  He didn't have anything on for quite some time.  He was so tiny and fragile and putting clothes on him was not important or necessary.  There was one point where he seemed to be doing well and we decided to put it on him.  I got it about halfway on him and sensed that it was stressing him.  I almost pulled it back off.  I didn't want to cause him any discomfort.  I wondered if I was just being "cutesy" by having him wear this little onesie.  I immediately felt the impression that this was different.  I wasn't being silly in doing this.  It was different and it was okay to put it on him.  

Eli is buried in his onesie (along with some clothing over it).  I wanted him to be buried in something special.  If I were to die, I would be buried in my temple clothes.  I couldn't figure out what would feel right to me.  I stewed and stressed over it for quite some time while I was pregnant.  It was hard to think about this instead of the normal things an expectant mom thinks about.  But, I was grateful that I could take my time to decide instead of being blindsided when he died.  Finally the answer came.  This was the right thing for him.  It connects him to our family. I know it is just an outward expression, but it is very special to me.  It feels like a beautiful way to connect with him and makes me even more proud to be a Gause.

Our family wears the shirts on the 5th of every month.  I think we will always do this.  It symbolizes our connection to Eli, but the idea isn't solely built around his life and death.  I think Eli helped guide and direct us during the planning phases that occurred long before he was conceived.  It is supposed to continue and include him.  I don't know what the 5th of each month will evolve into for us, but it will continue.  I know I will always think of Eli when I wear my shirt, but it won't always remind me of his death even though it does right now. 

Katelyn has asked if he has a shirt in heaven that he can wear on the 5th of every month.  I told her that God can do anything, so I'm sure a Team G shirt is within his capacity.  

Out Of Gas

 And now for a fun story.  Me and Lincoln were driving to go see Jason at work several weeks ago.  It was kind of a big deal to me because I hadn't been venturing out much, so GOING somewhere that wasn't totally necessary felt like a huge step.  I was headed to Costco to get some gas because I knew I would run out soon.  I stopped at the bridge just near my house, waiting for the light to turn green.  I pushed on the gas and nothing happened.  I push again and again.  I turned the car off and turned the car back on.... nothing.  The bridge has 2 lanes and is very narrow.  So many cars were trapped behind me.  They finally just started driving around me.  I wasn't sure what to do.  I wasn't really upset or panicked.  I just didn't have a lot of options.  Even if I could push the car (which I probably couldn't), someone would have to steer.  I started thinking of my options.  I could call Jason and hope that no one would run into me while I waited 25 minutes for him to get there.  

A nice guy stopped and tried to help me figure out what was going on.  He determined I was out of gas.  I was relieved that something wasn't REALLY wrong, but kind of embarrassed; especially after all the times I have been relentless with Jason about running out of gas.  "I am just so responsible that I NEVER run out of gas... I would think...." Nice.  I guess those long car rides in the evening got the best of my sense of being responsible.  

Anyways, this guy pushed the car to the side of the road on highway 6.  There was a gas station just across the street so I decided I would just walk over there and get some gas.  The guy offered to take me, but I declined; partly because I knew "I could handle it myself" and was embarrassed that I had run out of gas in the first place, and partly because I didn't know him.  I got Lincoln out and we walked across  the street to get some gas.  Lincoln is a big boy and wanted me to carry him.  I am usually fine doing this.  I like to have a little one in my arms and that road is very dangerous so I was happy to comply.  I carried him over and  bought a gas can for $20.....that's right ....$20!!!  I should have just walked the 5 blocks home and got the gas can in my garage! That really didn't sound appealing with Lincoln as I knew he would want to be carried.  After getting the gas, I walked back across the highway holding my purse, the gas can, and Lincoln and made my way to the car.  I made Lincoln get in the care while I tried to put the gas in the car.  The gas tank was on the drivers side meaning that I was right by the oncoming traffic.  I was trying to do it quickly because the cars were whizzing by.  I had to keep one eye on the traffic and one eye on Lincoln.  He is a little adventurous and, although I had explained and warned him about getting our of the car, you just never know with him.  

After a bit, I realized that the gas wasn't moving from the can to the car.  I didn't know why.  I realized it was some special safety feature so I took the gas can to the safe side of the car and tried to figure it out.  I was perfectly calm and happy until this point.  I COULD not get it to work.  I'm sure it wasn't that hard, but emotionally I was not up to par and I didn't have a lot of brain power. Plus I was trying to make sure Lincoln stayed in the car so he wouldn't get ran over.  I was wearing thin.  I could tell.  I called Jason and was basically yelling about how stupid this gas can was.  But he couldn't really help me because I was too upset.  He told me to send a picture of it so he could help me.  I did, but was completely frazzled knowing that I had no patience to figure this out....even with a guide.  I did the only logical thing I could think of.  I took the spout off the gas can and threw it in the mud.  

Then I just sat there trying to think of the next step.  I knew I could walk home with Lincoln, but I was a little concerned about leaving my car on highway 6 and knew at some point I would either have to figure this out or wait for Jason to come home from work.  I could have called someone in my ward, but really didn't think about it.  My brain was not working properly.  I was so frustrated.  

Then another guy pulled over.  He flipped his cigarette butt into the mud and walked towards me.  He had long hair and a ton of facial hair.  I wasn't concerned because I was in such a public place.... and besides, those aren't usually the ones to be afraid of.  Its the tall, well groomed charismatic types that are the real psychos.  Anyways....he walks over and says, "You're probably thinking, 'Oh *#@&!!!  A guy with long hair and a beard just stopped!'"  I just laughed so hard.  It turned my terrible moment into a humorous one.  Maybe I shouldn't laugh at foul language, but it was funny (so I laughed).  I felt like an idiot explaining that I didn't know how to WORK THE GAS CAN!  I had to walk over and grab the spout out of the mud.  I know...I'm super mature and have excellent problem solving techniques.  He could have made me feel stupid, but he went on and on about how stupid these gas cans are and they shouldn't make them like that.  It made me feel a little better.  He showed me how to use it and it wasn't that complicated, but I never would have figured it out in my current state.  I couldn't process what the directions said....that seems to happen from time to time; especially at the beginning stages of my grief.  I literally couldn't follow the simplest direction.  I apologized that his hands would probably smell like gas the whole day.  He told me about this great product sold at CAL-ranch that gets the smell out of anything.  He told me his wife makes him use after he goes hunting, but he said I could use it for onion smell on my hands after cooking.  Of course I forgot what this wonder product is called.  I was just so grateful for his kindness.  He could have looked at my car and my plight, and thought, "What a stupid girl.  She'll probably call triple A."  The only reason I say that is because I grew up on "the other side of the tracks" and heard things like that said in reference to people who were more affluent.  I'm not saying we are rich now, but my car isn't a beater.  

We had some beaters growing up.  The best one was called "The Beast."  It was an old Jeep Wagoneer...not sure what year....probably '78 or something.  Only some of the seat belts worked. It constantly smelled like exhaust so you knew you would have a headache if you rode for more than 5 minutes.  One of the doors would randomly swing open when you would go around corner.  It didn't happen all the time, so it was like a fun surprise when it did.  That was a little scary because it's not like you were secured by the seat belt or anything.  One time we were driving, as a family, on an old highway.  There were no lights.  The lights in "The Beast" stopped working, but the hazard lights worked, so we drove with flashing lights.  At one point. we hit a mattress in the road (because we couldn't see very well).  My mom thought it was a person.  One time we were driving and the gas pedal got stuck down.  It eventually came unstuck.  That was fun.  One time a pregnant mouse lived in our car during our vacation.  We would open up all the doors at night, while we camped and hope the little critter would scamper away, but to no avail.  We found half eaten paper towels and other traces as we unpacked the next day.  It must have been living in the seats.  We eventually caught it with a mouse trap.  Needless to say, I did not grow up with a luxurious car, so I know the difference. 

I was grateful that guy was not judgmental about my plight, for it was a true plight.  Had I been in a different state of mind, it may not have been.  It's amazing how far a small action like that goes when you are feeling totally unable to meet your own needs.  The entire experience was probably about 4 minutes, but it touched me.  I was so grateful.  You never know how impactful a small action like that will be.  That is such a cliche, but a true one.  He didn't know that I had just had my son die a couple of months prior and that my brain literally didn't process simple directions.  He could have thought me a totally incompetent, but he was kind and helpful and a real person.  

I was in a desperate situation (okay maybe desperate is too strong a word), but I felt desperate.  I felt unable to meet a simple need that I had.  It's amazing how directly that affects your heart when someone comes to your aid. 

I have felt "out of gas" a lot the last 4 months; more the first couple of months than now, but I still run out too frequently for comfort.  It didn't take a great deal of time or energy for these men to help, but I NEEDED it.  I am grateful for all of the times that people have come to my aid when I have been out of gas.  I am grateful for the meals, because I couldn't seem to understand the concept of combining more than 2 ingredients. It was overwhelming.  Grief does that to you.  I am grateful for the heartfelt questions about how I am feeling.  I am grateful mostly for people loving me and filling up my gas tank even though it seems like I may have all the "tools" to do it.  I had all the tools to fill up my car that day. I literally could not do it.  I'm grateful for those people who don't keep score and make me feel like I am in debt to them for helping me with the gas can valve; Who don't act superior to me through the ordeal;  For knowing that I am trying, even though I am acting like an idiot and throwing stuff in the mud.  I am grateful when they push my car to the side of the road and don't chide me for running out of gas.  I am grateful that other people are there when Jason is 25 minutes away and that seems to far.  And I'm glad that Jason is so sweet, and doesn't question my bizarre behavior and tell me to be nice and cordial....instead he just tries to help through my crazy, emotional rants about gas can valves or whatever the current issue is.  He doesn't say, "As soon as you can act like a rational human being, I will help you."  (Which is a highly warranted thing for him to say... I say that to my kids all the time).  "I will help you when you can treat me fairly and with the respect I deserve.  I will help when you calm down and stop throwing the gas can parts."  He knows that my grief is not me.  He sees my pain and not my behavior.  He just tries to help; through the tears and irrationality of my emotions. I don't know what I would do without him.  Thanks honey.  Really, thank you.    

Clean earth

“It is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succor of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule.”

-J.R.R Tolkien

cemetery small talk

There is one place that you won't find much "small talk."  The cemetery.  No one is there to shoot the breeze and talk about the weather.  Even when I go to the temple, there are people that engage in plenty of small talk.  It is bothersome.  Isn't there a place where we can go and focus on on the things that are eternally significant? Since I don't like small talk a great deal, you would think I would find the cemetery a desirable place.  I do.... most of the time. Sometimes I feel completely out of place; like I don't belong there.  Other times, I feel very much like I belong there.

Patiently waiting

I was late picking up Ethan from gymnastics the other day.  Lincoln had decided that he wanted to go potty in the big potty (he is NOT potty trained), and I wasn't about to miss an opportunity to jump on that wagon.  Well, he never did it and we were almost 10 minutes late picking up Ethan.  As we were driving, I started to wonder if my cell phone would ring and I would hear Ethan asking me where I was.  But then I remembered it was Ethan and he knew I would come.  I knew he would just sit there, waiting patiently, having full confidence that I would show up.  He wouldn't call and ask if I forgot him or get overly stressed out.  He would just wait, because, in his mind, that's how things work.  Mom drops you off, mom picks you up, mom always comes back, mom doesn't forget.

               
If it were Katelyn, it would be a whole different story.  She would definitely call.  She would probably be hysterical and ask if I had forgotten all about her.  She would demand an explanation as to my tardiness and would not be nearly as forgiving as Ethan.  She would go on and on about how stressful it was for her to sit there.  And she would never let me forget....EVER....every time I dropped her off in the future she would remind me of the time I "forgot" 

I started to think about the times I have felt distance from Heavenly Father.  Do I sit there like Ethan and wait patiently, knowing that He will come because He always does.  Do I remember that He promised He would come, so I can trust that He will.

Or, do I become hysterical?  Do I call Him over and over demanding an explanation and wonder why He forgot me?  Do I hold back my trust wondering if He will "forget" me again?

God isn't subject to time constraints like we are.  He isn't "late" because He is busy.  He has everything planned and orchestrated perfectly, even if it doesn't seem so to us. He doesn't "forget" about us.

Or, do I become hysterical?  Do I call Him over and over demanding an explanation and wonder why He forgot me?  Do I hold back my trust wondering if He will "forget" me again?

God isn't subject to time constraints like we are.  He isn't "late" because He is busy.  He has everything planned and orchestrated perfectly, even if it doesn't seem so to us. He doesn't "forget" about us.

4 months

It has been four months...

I took this picture tonight and it reminded me of another I took years ago outside the Provo temple.  I never thought these two places would be so closely linked in our little family.

Is it getting easier?  It is getting different.  Easy and hard are too simple of words.

Isaiah 40:31:
But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk and not faint.

Remembering Eli

When someone loves your child it does something different to your heart than when someone loves you.  It matters more and reaches a sacred and tender part of you. It has a greater effect than anything else. At least for me.  I know that when I see someone doting on my kids or gushing over this or that with them, I am filled with a deep sense of love for that person.  They are loving the most important and beautiful part of me.... meaning my children.

That is how I feel when someone shows love for Eli.  This is different than how people show love to my living children.  They can't go up to Eli and squish his sweet chubby cheeks or talk about how big he is growing.  They can't comment on his temperament or his sweet laugh.  No one can really comment on a milestone he has reached or an upcoming birthday.  I want to talk about him, but don't have any mundane things to say about him.  I have plenty of things to say, but the venue isn't always right for that kind of talk and not everyone should hear it or CAN hear it.

I do love to hear his name.  I talk to Lincoln about him a lot, because he never tires of what I say.  I ask him things about what he thinks Eli is doing.  I'm curious about what Lincoln will say, but mostly I just like to hear him say his name.  (pronounced "E-why").  He seems to be under the impression that he watches The Incredibles with Heavenly Father, and today he told me that Heavenly Father makes him cookies.  He seems to know that Eli is okay, because doesn't that sound like "heaven?"  The Incredibles and someone making you cookies.

I love when people will talk about Eli; when they aren't scared to say his name and ask me questions about him.  People who know me well know that just because I didn't see him for very long in the flesh, doesn't mean that I don't know him.  I do.  I know him in a different and deeper way than I know most people.  It is not a superficial relationship.  Everything is deep and meaningful.  There is no fluff.  That is how I like things anyways, but knowing Eli requires this.  I ONLY know him on a deep and connected level.  There is nothing else and there doesn't need to be anything else.   What a beautiful kind of relationship; there is nothing else like it.

I love when I feel that people love him.  There are people in my life that are able to express this and that genuinely love him.  They know him because they know me. They understand that Eli is part of me.  You can't fully love me without loving him.  You can't. 

But, you can't talk about Eli casually.  You can't walk up to his car seat and comment on how his nose and mouth look just like Lincoln's.  There isn't a car seat to walk up to. It is hard for me to see this in other babies and even children.  You wouldn't think that blowing birthday candles out for another family member would be hard for me to watch.  It really has nothing to do with Eli, right?  But for me it does.  When I see that, I know that he won't have that opportunity in this life.  I will never get to watch HIM do that, even if I get to watch my other children do it.  It affects me because my world seems to revolve around him right now.  Seeing other babies is very hard, but even seeing other children is hard for me sometimes.  Seeing my own children grow has caused twinges of pain.  It seems backwards, but EVERYTHING I see is in relation to him and the fact that HE isn't here right now.  In time, this will change.

I know this is harder because so few people met him.  If you did meet him, you are lucky and I'm sure you know that.

I think people look at our "situation" and think, "How sad. That must be so hard."  But, if you shift your focus from looking at the "situation" to looking at HIM, things are completely different.  So few people can do this, because so few people know him or attempt to.  If you know Eli at all, you can understand why I miss him so much.

Anyways, the saying goes: The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother.

I would add that the most important thing a person can do for a mother, is to love her child.

That certainly is the way to a grieving mother's heart.

shoveling

It snowed.... a lot.  It hasn't snowed in a while.  It was kind of refreshing to see white instead of brown.  Me and Lincoln went out side to shovel the walks.  I really enjoy doing this and he just had to play in the snow.  There was probably 4 or 5 inches to shovel and it was really wet, making it really heavy.  I looked around about 3 hours later and noticed that most of the snow had melted off all the sidewalks and hardly anyone had shoveled.  The warmth had done the work.  

I wonder, if sometimes, I get a little over anxious about "doing" something and don't respect time and "warmth" enough.   I figure that waiting to shovel something will only make things harder.  It will be frozen solid and even colder outside, so it's better to just get out there are start working.  But sometimes the sun does the job just fine.... it just takes patience. 

I didn't mind shoveling today.  In fact, I prefer it to waiting.  I am not patient and would rather pass the time by doing something, but it was a valuable reminder today that sometimes waiting has its own rewards. 

Everyone and No One

It's a hard thing when everyone knows what has happened in your life.... and yet no one does;

Everyone knows your business, yet they don't at all.  

I have gone through many a private trial in my life, that no one really knew about.  This experience has been so public, just by the very nature of it.  I don't which I would prefer.  There are benefits and downfalls with each.