Another "what to do" post...

Well, here I go again on the topic of "what to do..."  Two different people sent me the first article, which was interesting.  It surprising, when I read these, how much I agreed with.  I don't feel all of these things, but a lot of them. I think there is a lot of universal feelings that people experience, but I never would have know these things before this experience.  I read and just nod my head.  I guess its nice in some ways to realize that I'm not the only person who has felt these things.

What I wish more people understood about losing a child

11 things to do when you're not sure what to do

Be Still My Soul

I really like this version of Be Still My Soul.  I just thought I should make sure that everyone knows I don't just listen to depressing music with dead trees.  There is a lot of variety on my playlist:

Be Still My Soul

Owning yourself

The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe.  If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened.  But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.  

-Friedrich Nietzsche

I have struggled a lot with the social ramifications of this process. I mentioned, at one point, that I wasn't sure if I would rather have a "trial" be this public knowledge or not.  I would probably say no today and no most days.  But, I also realize that there are many additional lessons to be learned by the nature of this being public knowledge.  People have to respond in some way, even if there is no response.  No response is an equally loud response.  I NEVER would have invited this sort of thing into my life....meaning the public part.  I am certain of that.   And because I never would have invited it, I never would have learned any of this.  

I feel like I am learning to "own" myself regardless of how people act or react to me.  I am trying, at least.  There have plenty of opportunities for this.  Some people have been down right malicious, some people just completely ignorant, some people want to know and imagine, others won't even look at you for fear of being able to imagine, some people are kind and unafraid, some people are kind, but very afraid, and many people talk to me in reference to how this has affected them; which is valid in its own right, but hard for me to hear at times, because they seem to have a full resolution and I don't.   No wonder I want to go in a cave and wait until I heal a little more before coming out and facing this part of it.  Lots of patterns, lots of social science.  I'm sure someone has written a book about this;  A book about other people respond to your grief.   I could write a book about it.  I don't think I will. 

And what about this idea of "owning yourself?"  I like how he says that it is a "privilege" to own yourself.  It sure sounds nice and empowering, but what does it mean exactly?  Maybe it is a little different for everyone, but here is what is means to me today.  

You are the best person you can be regardless of how other people treat you or act towards you.  You are not influenced by how people view you and you do not make decisions based on how you think someone will respond. You make decisions based on what is right.  You are honest with yourself and don't justify your bad behavior when it might be easy to.  You treatment of other people has nothing to do with how kind or unkind they are towards you.  You don't let anyone change you except God.  You seek the change He tried to make in you even though it might be painful and difficult.  You are humble in this change even though the admission of your weaknesses might feel embarrassing (even though He already knows).  It might be embarrassing to yourself.  You don't do what everyone else is doing without consulting yourself first to see if that is what you should be doing.  You are in control of yourself.  

I think this takes time.  It takes quiet and stillness.  It takes communion with God.

Like I said, I am trying, but it is something worth paying the price for.

You are my sunshine

I used to sing "You are my Sunshine" to Ethan every night.  I'm not sure when I stopped, but I think I need to start again.  It wasn't a haphazardly picked song.  It was very much meant for him...the first verse at least:

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

You make me happy when skies are grey.

You'll never know dear how much I love you.

Please don't take my sunshine away.

Ethan has a very sweet and tender spirit.  I feel a nearness with him that doesn't come the same way as it does with Katelyn and Lincoln.  He is sensitive and thoughtful and, I can imagine, he will be a wonderful husband and father someday.  I feel especially tender towards Ethan during this time because I feel that he and Eli have a special bond that began long before this life and can reach through the veil.  There are parts of Ethan that remind me of Eli; physical and spiritual.  So many similarities...even with the process of getting them here was interestingly similar.  I guess it's fitting that the second verse of that song currently belongs to Ethan's little brother, Eli:

The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping,

I dreamed I held you in my arms.

When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken.

So, I hung my head and cried.

That is exactly what happened.

Facing Fear

I'm not sure what my worst fear used to be?  I think losing a child was pretty high on the list.  Maybe first or second. I don't know. I didn't usually review this list but kept in the back of my mind hoping that no one would see it.
Now, I feel like I have had to face this and I haven't been dodgy about it. I wanted to face it head on.  I know there is beauty in, at least, that, and I don't like the idea of running in fear.  It is unbecoming of a Gause.   As I have tried to do this, I have watched other people. 

Some  people are too afraid of their own fear to watch me face mine.  I think it is liberating in some ways to have this happen.  That sounds weird, but I'm not afraid it will happen because it already did. And being afraid of your worst fear can be worse than facing it in some ways.  You get to see it for what it is.  I think we run because it is an act of self preservation. It is hard for someone to stand by you as you grieve because they are too scared of their own worst fear.  People want to think that if they stay away from the thought of it, the sight of it, and reminder of it, that some how "fate" will overlook them and they will be go through this life without too many bumps or bruises, and certainly without an amputation.  I have seen this in myself.  I never would have even said (out loud) that one of my children might die.  It's too scary.  Its like you are tempting fate (as if that's what happens).  If I don't talk about it, it means I don't know about it, therefore it will never happen. I remember talking about life insurance. No on likes to talk about it, because you have to say and think things like, "If you die...."  and then you really have to think about it... at least from a financial standpoint. We want to stay far, far away from that.  I feel like I am less afraid now. I don't like to talk about people dying or terrible things happening, but I know it makes no difference if I talk about it or not.  Keeping quiet won't change the future.  I know that it is totally possible that another one of my family members could die.  I don't want them to, but I don't pretend like it couldn't happen (like I used to try to), because it certainly could. 

Maybe that's one of the gifts of this for me.  I see mortality for what it is.  I see it as temporary for everyone.

I also realize that there are worse things than death.

Nobody knows what I'm talking about

I was talking with a friend a month or so ago.  Midway through the conversation, I had the realization that this friend had no idea what I was talking about.  It have seen this many times since.  I'm sure many people haven't known what I'm saying, but I just expected everyone to keep up.  There are new truths that are so solidified in my brain, that I forget that I didn't know that a year ago.  I hadn't considered many of these things a year ago because it just didn't matter at the time.  As I talk sometimes, I see a look of puzzlement.  I feel like I am living in an alternate reality and speaking in a different language.  Sorry if you have no idea what I'm talking about.  I'm not upset about it, so I hope you aren't either.  I know that I can talk to one person who knows what I'm saying.  I'm happy about that.

Did I skip a step?

Mosiah 18:9 says: "Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, that ye may be redeemed of God, and be numbered with those of the first resurrection, that ye may have eternal life."

I haven't always understood the difference between that first part, mourning and comforting, or perhaps I just read it too fast and thought it was one complete thought.  It isn't.  I should have FIRST mourned with those that mourn.  Let that part happen.  It is hard to comfort someone when you haven't mourned with them first.  Or it is hard for them to feel that comfort.  Of course, I am speaking from my own experience.  "Mourning" probably doesn't appeal to some people.  HOW do you do that?  It isn't as easy to objectify as "comfort" so we do the part we can comprehend.  I'm not going to go on and on about mourning because this part seems so spiritual in nature and people seem to get it or not.  Wordiness doesn't help in this case.

Joseph F. Smith said:

It is a very difficult matter to say anything at a time of sorrow and bereavement like the present that will give immediate relief to the sorrowing hearts of those who mourn. Such griefs can only be fully relieved by the lapse of time and the influence of the good spirit upon the hearts of those that mourn, by which they can obtain comfort and satisfaction in their hopes of the future. …

First the mourning comes, then the comfort comes....hence the scripture. 

[To Elder Joseph H. Dean in Oahu, Hawaii, President Joseph F. Smith wrote:] I heard with deep sympathy of the death of your baby at home. I knew how to sympathize, for I passed through the same kind of bitter experience myself while there. I would have written you, but I judged you by myself and refrained from doing so. Under such circumstances I feel more like going into some distant quiet, lonely retreat, where no eye but that of God beheld me, and there, alone, feel and sense my grief, God only knowing it. … Time, and time only—that great healer of wounds—can touch my soul, and I think you would no doubt feel the same. But when the first poignant throes of grief are passed and the soul is calmed by time and fate, then a word fitly spoken may touch the tender chord of fellowship flowing from heart to heart in kindred sorrows. 

I love how he talks about going to a "some distant, quite, lonely retreat..."  I expressed this idea to Jason before reading this. I told him I wanted to go somewhere.....maybe a secluded mountain in Tibet.....somewhere far away and just be by myself.  I needed quiet and calm and peace and clearer access to the spirit.  It seemed that my conduit up to heaven would open and close and open and close with the busyness and noise of life.  Even the good busyness and noise made that connection seem less tangible and I needed to be alone because I felt that was the only way to keep it open.  I didn't get to go to Tibet, but I have retreated in other ways.

Back to the idea of mourning before we comfort:  It seemed that so few people that crossed my path did this, meaning taking time to mourn before comforting, making it more complicated for me.  As I reflect back, I think that many people did this around the time of Eli's graveside service and memorial, but not as much after that.   Perhaps they did this on their own, in their own quiet, thinking that doing that in front of me, or side by side with me, would be a bad idea? I think they were ready to move to the next phase....bringing comfort.  I wasn't there yet.  I wasn't there for some time.  In fact, some attempts to comfort me were very hard to listen to.  I didn't care that Eli was going to be resurrected someday.  I wanted him back now!  I was sad now!  He was gone now!  And, some people skip the mourning all together.  I was probably one of them, in the past.  What's the point to being sad for someone?  What is that going to accomplish?  I think a "doer" has a hard time with this idea.  But, it is amazing how much strength can be felt from someone feeling part of your pain.  That has been more helpful than ANY other thing.  I  know I need to be understanding that people are trying to help and doing their best.  It seems that those that are receiving the help are supposed to see it as such and be grateful that it is there, whether it actually helps of not. Great, it you have a lot of emotional stamina and reserves.  I had none.  I have a little more now. I understand things a little better now and feel such strength when people try at all even if they say of do something that isn't helpful.  Their intent and desire outweighs the actual action and words.  I see this better now. I am trying to be patient with others  I hope that others will be patient with me.  

I still feel like there are times when I just need to mourn.  When I need to cry and feel that yearning for Eli.  There are times when I just want to hold him and love him and thinking about a distant day seems too far.  Sometimes I am only living in that day; The day when I heard a newborn cry and it wasn't mine, but I wanted it be. The day when I saw someone with a tiny bundle in their arms and a glow on their face and my arms were empty and my head was hanging down.  Days when it isn't necessarily helpful to remind me that he will live again someday.  There are times when I am only thinking about today.  

But how would a friend know the difference?  How would you know if a person needs a mourning companion or comforter?  I have no idea.  Sorry.  I just confuse everyone, including myself.  I'm not asking for it now, but just stating something that wasn't so obvious to me before this. I see the difference of mourning and comforting and the necessity of both and that will change how I conduct myself in the future.  I am grateful to have a different understanding of that scripture. I have received an excellent education in it.  

counting potatoes

I was washing potatoes for dinner tonight.  I pulled six out of the bag....because there are six people in our family.... then I remembered that I only needed 5.

It's weird when things like this happen, because I'm not thinking it through when I add up how many potatoes to grab.  I just do it, and THEN  I remember.  I am so aware of that sixth person and there are times, like tonight, when I have to remember that only 5 are here.  I must subconsciously be counting instead of consciously doing it?

I never thought things like this would happen to me.  It's not like I have fed him a baked potato before.  It's not like I would even be feeding him a baked potato now.  It doesn't happen all the time, but it does happen.  I feel like I have forgotten someone when we leave the house.  I feel like I have to go and check on someone inside when me and all the kids are outside.... it feels like someone is missing.  Well, that makes sense, because someone is missing.

Eyes

In the scriptures, the eye is often used as a symbol of a person's ability to receive light of God.

Matthew 6:22:  The light of the body is the eye; if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light. 

I have had a lot of thoughts about eyes lately.   Here's one concept that my aunt Robin helped me understand better.  You can see a lot if you look into someones eyes.  Even though our eyes are relatively small in comparison to most other parts of our body, they are the most telling part of us.  People who are in pain have a different look in their eyes.  This seems to stay with them even when they pain has passed, but looks more like empathy and compassion.  There is a hint of pain that remains making the compassion and empathy so real and genuine.

Maybe this is part of what Shakespeare meant when he said, "The eyes are the window to your soul."

I started to think about the idea of "not staring."  It seems like many parents teach their children to "not stare."  I find this idea very intriguing.  Usually it goes something like this:  Mom and Susie walk into the grocery store and see Jim (who has a beard and is in a wheelchair).  Susie is 4 years old, so she stares at him.  Her mother quickly whispers "Don't stare!" and doesn't give the man any attention.  The mother and daughter walk just far enough away from him that they can easily avoid him without it looking like they are deliberately doing this.  The mom acts like he is invisible.  She expects Susie to do the same.  I'm sure Jim feels invisible when he is treated like this.  I don't think Jim forgets that he is in a wheelchair just because he is ignored.  I'm sure it isn't helpful to him.  What could be done instead?  Maybe the mom could just talk about it with Susie.  She could explain that not everyone's bodies are the same his legs don't allow him to walk like hers.  He has a wheelchair to help him get around. Why was Susie staring in the first place?  Is she just a bratty little 4 year old that likes to make people who have an obvious difference feel bad.  No!  She is curious and notices that there is something different about Jim.  And what if Jim overheard the conversation.  He would probably appreciate it; appreciate that this mother was teaching her child something valuable instead of teaching her to ignore.  

My kids do this all the time.  If there is a kid crying at the store, Lincoln stares.  He is concerned and doesn't pretend he isn't.  He doesn't know how to socially pretend yet.  I usually tell him that the crying child's mommy will give the child a hug and the child will feel better.  That is usually sufficient for him. I like the way children act.  They act instinctively.  They don't rationalize and do weird things like adults do.  They just do what is natural even if that causes them to stare.  

Since when is ignoring people better than staring at them?  When you "ignore" them, you have already stared a little and looked away, so you are really guilty of staring AND ignoring.  Ignoring is an active process.  Not noticing is obviously passive, but when you ignore someone, you are saying," I KNOW you are there but I will not look at you."

I have noticed a lot of "dodgy eyes" since my experience began in July.  I'm not sure if that is a technical term, but it means that people won't meet your eyes. They won't look at you.  

I am starting to accept that this is just the way it is.  A lot of people will stare and then quickly look away when I try to meet their eyes.  It made me really angry at first.  I thought, "I am sorry that seeing me for 12 seconds is making you uncomfortable.  At least you are only uncomfortable for 12 seconds.  I'm sorry you don't know what to say, but don't avoid me."  I still feel angry sometimes, but that emotion moved to less volatile and cleaner feeling of just feeling hurt.   Now it is just part of the deal and it's okay most the time. I know that I will have to deal with this phenomenon in the future by being forgiving and knowing that people just don't know what to do.  I hope that I will be able to see that people are all dealing with me in the only way they know how.  I can feel the seeds of forgiveness and understanding being planted, but they are not mature yet.  

I also know that I will always remember how hurtful it was and it will change the way I act in the future.  When you feel open and exposed, it is surprising how a small act (good or bad) affects you.  It's not like I meet everyone's eyes either.  I'm sure tons of people look at me and I don't meet their eyes.  I can't handle what might or might not happen, so I keep my eyes in a place where I have control over what I see; usually down. 

The first time I went "out" after having Eli (besides the mortuary and cemetery) was 10 days after we had Eli.  There was a birthday lunch at school, and, because Ethan's birthday is in November, we were invited to go.  Ethan had been talking about it for months.  He wanted Domino's pizza and bread sticks.  He is pretty easy to please. You basically go and sit in the lunchroom at a "special" table and eat lunch with you birthday boy.  It is low key and you don't have to interact with anyone.  I was terrified to go.  Don't ask me exactly why.  I felt like my heart and guts had been ripped open and were hanging everywhere.  I felt like looking at someone or having someone look at me was like rubbing sandpaper against an open wound.  It was a terrible and weird feeling that has persisted, but gotten a little better.  The only reason I was going was for Ethan.  Jason was there with me, so it shouldn't have been a big deal, but it was.  We walked in and found our way to the back table (my choice).  As we walked back I saw someone I knew.  We are friends and know each other, but I wouldn't say we are close.  She looked at my face. looked at my belly (now considerably smaller than the last time she saw me) and looked away.  Not a word of comfort or sympathy.  Not even a look of it.  I wanted to throw up.  It was awful being the sight and subject of obvious heartache with no response.  I'm sure she was doing the only thing she knew how to do.  I knew that would be the beginning of many experiences like this.  It is still happening, but most people have stopped looking at my stomach.  

It's hard going through the grieving process and then adding on things like this.  It's not like it doesn't hurt enough without additional wounds inflicted.  But, again, I am learning, like most people that grieve, that many people make it worse by seemingly small instances.  It is hard to know that I have to forgive and be compassionate with them when I wish they would be compassionate with me.  I think everyone that has talked to me has said somethings that has hurt in one way or another.  I don't say this to play a martyr, but rather to say that my emotions are all over the place and a comforting thing one moment, might be a hurtful thing the next moment.  I recognize my oversensitivity, so I find I am don't get too hung up on that.  I guess I am trying to say that people are always afraid to say the "wrong thing."  I would say: you probably will, but who cares.  I appreciate anything given in love. It is the feeling behind the words and not the words themselves.   Plus, I greatly admire people who are terrified to say something and do it anyways.  I have had people come up to me, literally shaking and give me a hug.  I can see how hard it is and I just want to comfort them and tell them how grateful I am for them being brave.  I feel bad that I made them so nervous.

5 months ago I would say I was 100% angry, hurt, etc and 0% compassionate towards peoples ignorance and insecurity.  Now I would say that the 0% has increased quite a bit....I'm not going to say a number because it will probably change tomorrow, but it is higher than 0.  I know that my happiness depends on moving the number much higher. 

Always take a second to look someone in the eye.  

Ode to Tawny

This is a bit overdue, I must say.  I want to tell you a little something about my sister-in-law, Tawny.  She married Jason's only brother, only sibling, Justin.  She is a breath of fresh air to me.  If you know Tawny, you know she says what's on her mind.  She doesn't mince words and doesn't vacillate.  She is pretty firm in her opinions (of which she has many). but I appreciate them all, even if I don't agree, because she isn't afraid to take a stance.  But, besides all of that, the one thing that I love about Tawny is her ability to love.  She loves people....it seems all people.  She is kind and compassionate and doesn't like to see injustice.  She is a genuine soul.

She was such a support and strength to me through my pregnancy.  She was always sensitive to me. She knew I was hurting and certainly didn't carry on as if I was fine.  I really needed it.  I knew I could depend on her.

When we started talking about the logistics surrounding the day Eli was born, I needed someone to take my kids.  I needed someone who knew them well- who they were comfortable with.  But, I knew that asking someone to do this was not asking an ordinary favor.  I knew my kids would be extremely anxious and unsure (as we all were) surrounding this time.  I wasn't sure what kinds of things they would ask Tawny.  I needed someone who could field all kinds of life and death and uncertainty questions.  I felt it was too much to ask anyone, but I didn't have much of a choice.  I needed someone to be their mom (while I wasn't there) through this terribly emotional ordeal.  I was so grateful she agreed to do it.

We talked a lot prior to this trying to figure out "possible scenarios."  We didn't know how long Eli would live.  We had to talk a lot of about the "what if's" surrounding his birth and death.  I wanted this part of it to be as peaceful and sweet as it could be for my other kids.  I wanted it to be an experience that strengthened our family and didn't cause them too much distress.  I wanted them to feel how important they were as Eli's siblings.  I was worried that if he were alive for a few days the kids wouldn't want to leave the hospital.  I was worried he would die when they weren't there and they wouldn't get to say goodbye to him.  I didn't want to talk or plan the specifics because I just didn't know, but we had to have some sort of a "plan."  Tawny wanted  to know what I wanted.  She needed to know what I wanted.  She had to do this impossible task, and I wasn't even sure what to tell her.  It was very difficult for me to talk about because most of my concerns related to the timing of his death, and that was very hard for me to talk about.

We talked about it as best we could.  After all was said and done, the circumstances worked out just beautifully.  The kids were there when Eli passed away and it was a very fluid and natural process.  It was a beautiful experience for our family.  I knew that Tawny would have to take them home after this event.  She handled their questions and concerns as good as I could have imagined doing myself....probably better.  I needed her to be their MOTHER while I wasn't there....not just a caregiver.

When we were at the hospital, the kids went down with my dad and Tawny to get some dinner.  Katelyn told me later that she was very worried that Eli would die while she was gone (which was certainly within the realm of possibility at that point).  She told me that Tawny told her that wouldn't happen.  She kept assuring her.  Katelyn asked me how she knew. I think an angel must have whispered this to Tawny.  She DIDN'T know and wouldn't have presumed to know THAT.  Just as the angel said, Eli waited until the kids got back before he left.

There was one particular moment at the cemetery where Tawny was in the right place at the right time and I really needed someone to be there.  Me and Jason were driven to the cemetery in a car with Eli's casket.  We were a bit late, as I couldn't quite bring myself to do what had to be done.  Everyone was already there waiting for the graveside service.  We parked the car and I knew the next step was to carry Eli's little casket to his grave. It was one of the things that I had dreaded the most.  It was certainly the most public thing that I dreaded, but I wanted to do it.  Me and Jason had decided to do it together.  I lost all ability to control my emotions when we drove through the gates.  I can't describe how I felt and I'm not going to try right now.  I surely couldn't do this....not this.  I got out the car and Tawny was standing right there.  She just held me while I cried and told me it was going to be okay.  I didn't think it was going to be okay, and I doubt she did either, but I needed someone right there at that moment.  I finally composed myself and was able to do it.

So, what is it about Tawny that makes her such a wonderful person?  I would have to say that it is her innate ability to love.  She never has to force this because it is so natural.  I thought of this scripture in reference to her:

 Moroni 7: 46-47: Wherefore, my beloved brethren, if ye have not charity, ye are nothing, for charity never faileth. Wherefore, cleave unto charity, which is the greatest of all, for all things must fail—

 But charity is the pure love of Christ, and it endureth forever; and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him. 

It shall be well with her.

I understand better that, without charity, ye are nothing.  You can do all the "right things:"  go to church, pay your tithing, read your scriptures, say your prayers, but if none of that ever becomes part of you, if it doesn't develop this constant, pure love in you,  it is all for naught.  I understand that better after being around Tawny.   I see that despite our weaknesses, charity is the thing we have to have to become like God.

She came to my house the day after I delivered Eli.  I was in a daze and was still very much recovering from the previous day when I had given birth.  I needed some womanly things that I hadn't gotten.  My brain never made it past the delivery, so I hadn't prepared the things I would need when I got home.  I didn't want to think about the time when I got home.  She brought what I needed.  
She was there to help with my milk coming in.  She was able to help me through some of this with her kindness and compassion, but also through humor.  Being able to laugh through some of that seemed unfathomable to me, but we did.  I wonder now, how I was laughing, but I'm so grateful that there was laughter among the tears.  I never asked her to do any of this.

Tawny has taken me out on many a Saturday to just talk.  She has been so consistently caring and knows that I need her to initiate our little dates.  I can make it there, but that is about it.  I talk and talk and talk and she listens and validates and validates and validates.  

I know I have left many things out and that Tawny is probably embarrassed a little right now, but I don't give empty compliments.  It isn't in my nature.  I'm not even sure I love this idea of public praise,  because sometimes the intentions are off.  But, I really did want everyone to know Tawny a little better.  If I say I think the world of you, I really do. I love you.  Thank you for marrying Justin.  I may have benefited as much as he has. 

Simple and Complex

I was thinking the other day about when we first found out about Eli.  It was simple.

Eli was coming to get a body.  He didn't need to stay here and be tested.  I had the privilege of providing that for him.  I would miss him, but it would be okay.  The end.

That is the simple version.

I won't write the complex version, but sufficed to say, I have written hundreds and hundreds of pages about it; about every little detail; every nook and cranny; new places inside me that I didn't know existed; dirty places in me that needed some cleaning; beautiful places in me that needed to be realized.  It has been anything but simple.  It has blasted a hole in my whole being and nothing looks the same anymore.  I see things I never thought I would have to face.  MY grief wouldn't be like that.  I have fallen apart and acted in ways that I would never act.  I have thought about things that no one would ever want to think about. I have done things that no mother EVER wants to do.  It has become very complicated as I try to live in two places at once.  It is painful as I feel the pull and need to live in mostly one place.  I have felt darkness and pain that I never anticipated.  I felt light and knowledge beyond my comprehension.  I feel that I examine and analyze every tiny portion of this journey.  Every portion of Eli's life, before he came, when he was here, and his life now. I examine my life in the same context.  I try to understand what God has told me, what He is telling me and what it means.  I am finding that I see the same things differently as time goes on.  I get a new insight as I think about the same things over and over again.  It seems there is a lifetime of information and learning to be found in the last 9 months.  It seems there has been a lifetime of emotion in that time; sorrow, anger, gut wrenching pain, gratitude, depression, confusion, humility, pride (the good and bad kind).  I could go on and on. I haven't wanted to leave one stone unturned or one path untouched.  I wanted the whole experience.  I am not hiding from it. I believe I am getting it.  It is very complicated.

I started thinking about the nature of God in conjunction with this idea.  I thought about how God is very simple in some ways.  The doctrines of the gospel, the essential ones, can be understood by most children.  God created us.  God loves us.  God directed the creation of our world.  God wants us to return to Him, but we can't do that, in our fallen state, without an completely pure and clean sacrifice. God sent His Son to atone for our sins and give us the power to return to live with Him.  God will not give up on any of us because He doesn't want any of us to be lost.  The end.

But, God is also complicated.  I think about the human body.  The heart with its own electrical system; the eye with a self focusing lens; cells that automatically regenerate themselves.  I think about the intricacies of our world; the climate, the food chain.  I think about how God put us all on this Earth at this time and somehow intertwines our lives perfectly so that we can have the greatest potential to get back to Him.  We couldn't even do that with one person.   We couldn't have the right person see someone at the park and talk to them, or have the perfect song on the radio, or have the right co workers at the right time, or time the traffic to avert an accident and on and on.  He does that with every single one of us. It is a highly complicated system that involves billions of people on this side of the veil and the other side.  It is perfectly orchestrated.  It is highly complicated.

I was feeling a little bit weird about the fact that I have made this so complicated.  I thought, "I needed to go back to the original thought and stop over thinking everything."  But, I also realized that there is beauty in it because we see things we didn't see before.  We are aware of a blessing that we didn't notice.  We learn a great truth that came after a tough question.  I think we have to be both: simple and complicated, but for different reasons.

But, I guess in the end, it really is simple.  Do I trust God or not?  Do I believe that He can do what He said He could do?  Do I believe that He will make ALL things work together for my good?

Yes

Do I need to understand the intricacies of His work to trust Him?

No

That's good because I don't.

Back to Normal

I used to wonder what life would be like after Eli died.  I used to wonder when I would feel "good" or "normal" again. I even wondered that right after he died.  "When will I feel like 'myself' again?"  as if that were the most desirable thing. It's interesting where grief takes you.  I don't really care if I feel like "myself" again.  I'm not upset about who I used to be or how I used to feel, but that isn't really my goal anymore.  I think my journey has helped me realized that I will never be the same and I don't even want to be.  There are things that I do want back.  I do want my naivety back, but that has been destroyed never to be rebuilt.  I want some semblance of happiness back although I feel different.
My mind and my vision has been irreversibly altered.  I see the plan of salvation in such a clearer and more concrete way.  I no longer see "heaven" as a nice place "somewhere in the sky" or whatever I used to think.  I don't even know what I used to think.  I never thought about it in depth.  I never had to.  I think about it all the time now.  My son lives there, so it matters very much to me.  It isn't an abstract idea anymore.  I am tethered to a place that I have never seen but is as real to me as this earth.  Part of me lives there so it is tangible to me now.

I guess I realize that getting back to my "old life" isn't an option for me and that doesn't bother me anymore.

5 months

Connectivity has little to do with locality.  For me, at least.

Eli.... I love you. XOXO

Mom

Easter reflections

As I think about the resurrection of Jesus Christ during this Easter weekend, my thoughts are a lot different than they used to be.  I used to think about Jesus Christ and his life, death and resurrection, but it was never profoundly personal, like it is now. When someone you love is in the grave, the resurrection no longer becomes something we sing about and look at a picture of.  It is about the person you love.  It is about the hope of seeing them again- whole, in a glorious and perfected state.  It isn't something I am just "grateful" for anymore.  It isn't part of the story.  It is the story.  It is the  reason that the things preceding His resurrection matter so much.  It is everything.  Without that hope, there would be no purpose for life.  There would be no reason to go on.  There would be nothing but darkness and despair.  I truly mourn with hope.  Because Jesus Christ broke the bands of death,  I live with the sure hope that I will hold Eli again.  And this time, it won't be for 5 hours or even 5 years.  It will be forever....never to be separated again.  It has become an anchor to everything I experience as I feel the loss and sorrow at our separation.  I have a very clear image of what that reunion will look like.  I imagine the cemetery; the place I have gone to so many times and left with empty arms, and sometimes, an empty heart.  There will come a time where there will be no more emptiness, no more tears of sorrow, no more pain. I think of it often.  Eli is buried by many other babies and children.  It is a very sacred spot of ground.  There is purity and tenderness there.  It feels tangible at times.  I imagine all the other mothers, who yearn for their children. I imagine them being there, kneeling upon the ground.  

Revelations 21:4: And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.  

When we were at the mortuary, preparing Eli's body to be buried, Jason was holding him in some of our last moments.  He looked at me and asked if wanted to hold him one last time.  I looked at him very intently because his words had pierced my heart.  I told him that this wasn't the last time.  He knew that, of course, but he meant for now.  I wouldn't even hear it.  I know that our separation is temporary.  I knew it wouldn't be the last time and the next time Eli would be warm and soft and full of life.  

I read a talk awhile back, about the "power of the resurrection."  It opened my eyes to some important truths that I hadn't considered.

Our Great Potential- Spencer W. Kimball

Truly, truly it is a happy Easter as it reaffirms the reality of Jesus Christ as the victor over the grave.  He broke the bands of death that would enslave us for eternity had it not been for His atonement.  I have a very deep sense of reverence and gratitude for Christ giving me something that I NEED; that is precious and dear; that means everything to me.  The chance to be reunited with Eli.  The knowledge that I will be. 

Someday, all graves will be empty.

There's always something to be thankful for

I wrote this back in early December.  I thought about it today.

"There is always something to be thankful for.  I have been surprised by this.

I am grateful that Eli was born and died on the same day.  It's not that I didn't want him here, but when I think of that day, I will think about his birth and not his death.  There won't be two separate dates for this.

I am thankful that I have somewhere to visit that helps me to feel close to Eli.  I never thought I'd be thankful to visit a cemetery, but I am.

I am thankful that we have the money to buy a headstone for him.  There are some babies at the cemetery that don't have headstones.  I'm not sure why.  I wonder if it is financial issue.  I' grateful that I have the ability to give him that (or give myself that).  It just feels more comfortable.

I am thankful that this happened while the kids are in school instead of during the summer. I'm having a hard time doing very much and it would be much more difficult if it were summertime and they were home.

I am grateful for the timing of the seasons.  The fact that it is winter makes me feel like the earth is mourning with me instead of mocking me with new blossoms and fresh growth."

I am grateful that I had those thoughts back in December.  That was not a particularly light time for me.  I wanted a harsh winter with too much snow and too much ice.  It seemed appropriate.  It didn't happen and we had a rather mild winter.  I think we did, at least.  I'm not sure how I feel about spring.  It seems a bit premature for me, but I can't seem to stop time from moving forward.  It snowed this morning and I was secretly happy about it.  It felt like a relief... it made sense to see it.

Still going

I really had no idea I had so much to say... I didn't think I would still feel the need to write ALL THE TIME in April.... I started using this blog again, back in July, to update people on the status of our pregnancy.  It, then, became a place to allow me to collect my thoughts, in an somewhat orderly manner, and record them.  It has been helpful and healing.  Anyways, I just didn't realize that so much would be coming out of me for this long.
And that must lead into my next idea about things being both simple and complex...I have a lot to say about that in the near future.