God's infinity does not preclude either His immediacy or His intimacy.
                                                                                                                      -Robert L. Millet

Death ends a life, not a relationship. -Jack Lemmon

Chastening

I don't know why I don't write as much anymore.  I'm sure anyone reading this really enjoys me saying that over and over again.  I can't put my finger on the change in me (and that bothers me).  I used to write several times a week.  I like being able to at least understand what is happening in my mind even if I can't always steer my thoughts in the direction I like.  I wonder why writing hasn't been as much a part of my life when I compare my feelings post Eli versus post Miles.  When Miles died something sort of snapped inside me.  I can't totally put my finger on that either although I spend a lot of time thinking and praying about it.  Maybe it is beyond my ability to grasp.  But...I do have the urge to share things every once in awhile. Today I was reading in Hebrews.  If you haven't read through this book in awhile, I invite you to do it.  A lot of what Paul said to these people has been very helpful to me.  In chapter 12 verse 11 he says:

"Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby."

I looked up the definition of chastening.  I find that I frequently look up definitions as I study.  It's not that I don't know what the word means...or at least I think I have a general idea of what most words mean, but I usually gain added insights as I break it down.  One of the definitions of chastening is to prune of excess, pretense or falsity.

I hope (and mostly believe) that the non joyous chastening I have experienced and continue to experience and experience and experience is pruning me of excess...of anything that does not REALLY matter.  I want it to.

I also want it to help get rid of any pretense that is left in me.  I am not much for pretense.  I think the pretense part of my brain never really formed correctly and I am quite blunt and straight forward.  When me and Jason visited England I thought I might fit in better there.  Pretense seems almost absent from their culture.  People have told me this is refreshing, but I wonder.  It isn't always refreshing...(like if I say something you don't like).  I think we prefer the truth only if it agrees with us; if it convenient. Sometimes the truth doesn't.  I also wonder if my grief is helping me gain some pretense instead of  getting rid of it.  In general, I find that people SAY they want to know the truth, but that isn't always the case.  Sometimes it's just better to fake it and pretend like everything is okay.  Some people need you to.  Grief has taught me that.  How sad (I think it's sad, at least).  Maybe a bit of pretense is good... but to be honest, I just think it's lame.  I like it straight.  Even when it hurts.

So chastening is unpleasant, at best, but necessary.  I like the imagery of pruning...pruning the excess.  It reminds me of a clip I saw awhile back:

The Will of God

God, please prune me...and please help me to endure it without becoming bitter or despondent. Please help me to trust this process that seems long and agonizing and sometimes just plain mean.  I trust the process, but don't always trust myself in the process (if that makes sense).  I'm not sure I can hold up against the fire at times.

Dates

There are a lot of dates that I know can be difficult for me.  For the first while after Eli, I would struggle every Wednesday.  Wednesday was the day we delivered Eli.  I would watch the clock as the day would wear on and I could relive what had happened the day of his birth and death.  I also anticipated Mondays for awhile.  Monday was the day we buried him.  I would also relive this day.  I anticipated the 5th and still do.  Would it be a sweet day filled with peace and contentment or a day of pain and longing OR would it be just plain agonizing?  I just had to wait and see...like a surprise...but not an exciting on. After some months went by, the Monday's and Wednesday's began to fade and the 5th because more prominent.  As we drew closer to Eli's birthday, each 5th seemed like a countdown to his 1st year birthday, instead of counting up.  After his one year mark, I began the countdown for the 18 month mark.  During this time I was also pregnant with Miles, so I anticipated every Thursday which would signal a new week for my pregnancy.  Since Miles passed away, I have added some new dates to the anticipatory mix.  I hope you realize that I don't do this on purpose, but this has been the way of my grief.  I would love to pick  and choose which days mean what to me, but it hasn't worked out that way.  I found out that Miles' heart had stopped on a Monday at approximately 11:15am.  I delivered him on a Tuesday at 8:00pm. We buried him on a Wednesday.  My day changing week in my pregnancy was a Thursday.  Do you see the problem here?  Of course I still had the 5th to anticipate, and then there was the 26th, which was a new idea.  I can't tell you how overwhelmed I felt by all of this; like my whole life was either counting up to a date, or recovering from one, or actually living in it.  If I could shut my brain off I would do it, but that doesn't always work to my liking.  Luckily, I knew that some of these days would fade into the background.  I knew, from my experiences with Eli, that the Monday's and Tuesday's and Thursday's would fade.  I knew it would take time.  It felt like everyday was a problem for awhile.  One of the first questions Ethan asked after we told him about Miles' death was, "So, are we going to go to the cemetery on the 5th and 26th?"  He wasn't emotional, but rather seemed to be planning out his schedule.  I remember just being speechless as I started to process this idea (it had only been hours since the shocking news...).  It just felt like too much.  It still feels like too much...a bimonthly trip to the cemetery for our whole family. I mean, logistically, that felt excessive.  (I go a lot more than that, but the whole family?).  I just told Ethan I wasn't sure and we would figure it out.  I guess he just wanted to know what this meant for him. Oh, and don't forget the "due date."  The arbitrary date that no one really has their baby on.  That is currently hanging over my head.  It bothers me as I "wait" for what exactly? Miles was due January 26th...obviously, for that is the day he was born.  Unfortuneately, my mortal brain had mapped out more time with him and I thought his "due date" would be much later....like now.

Yesterday, being the 26th, was four months since delivering Miles.  It was a difficult day.  I thought I would be just about ready to deliver a baby; not stand over a his grave for this Memorial Day weekend.  People ask me what we are doing for Memorial Day.  Is that a nice way of asking if I am having a BBQ?  (I know my sarcasm is shining through...it's a great coping mechanism).  I'm not really upset when people ask this, but just so surprised to see where my life has gone over the last 2 years...wishing I were only thinking of a BBQ right now in some ways.  But on the other hand, I am grateful for where my life has taken me.  I no longer see anything the same way.  I don't take for granted the nights where I lay by Lincoln while he falls asleep.  I treasure the hugs from Ethan and look into his eyes more often knowing what a gift I have in him being here.  I see the way Katelyn grows and tries to navigate through this increasingly confusing and chaotic world.  I see the beauty of life more vividly as I have dealt with the sorrow of death.  I feel anchored to my Savior...completely secure in His care.  I have two truly angelic sons.   I know them separately and distinctly.  If you knew my sons you wouldn't feel bad for me.  If you knew the depth of my grief over them you would.

My experience with Miles has been completely different than Eli even though the end result looks roughly the same.  My pregnancy was very quiet, his short life was almost unknown.  He was gone before most people knew he came.  My grief has also been quieter...not inside myself but for everyone around me.  I am learning a lot. What day was Miles due?  He was due January 26th because that is the day he came. I didn't know that (obviously). I anticipated much, much more time with him. That is part of the reason I didn't feel rushed to run out and tell everyone I was pregnant.  I had very strange and conflicting emotions while I was pregnant, but I didn't worry about them too much.  Grief has taught me a few things over the last little bit and I knew that my emotions would be difficult when I got pregnant again. It was a lot worse than I thought, but I was patient with it.  I kept thinking, "I will feel different about this pregnancy.  It will take time, but I will feel different."  Time passed and passed and I didn't really feel that different.  But I didn't worry about it...I had TIME...I would get there.  This would become a joyful and exciting thing for me.  The ultrasound came and I thought, "This will be the moment I begin to feel different.  This is the moment where everything changed for me with Eli, so I just need to get past this part.  I need to go and realize that I am carrying a healthy baby who I can spend my life raising.  I will feel different."  Well, I didn't.  They told me I was carrying a healthy baby boy and there were absolutely no concerns with his development.  The doctors tried to speak peace to my troubled mind with their reassuring words, but I still didn't feel that different.  I was sorrowful.  I was troubled.  I was unsure why I didn't feel joyful or anticipatory about this baby.  I told Jason that I was as sorrowful as if this baby were going to die.  I was pregnant with a healthy baby boy but I had no desire to talk about it with anyone.  I should probably clarify that I did not think he was actually going to die even though I felt so dismal.  I just thought it was my grief and hormones talking.  I knew that Eli was my most recent experience, so it made sense that my mind was not processing this pregnancy correctly.  I knew this baby could die (that wasn't a far fetched idea anymore), but I didn't think he would; especially since we had already had that experience.  I heard plenty of other women celebrating their pregnancies and anticipated changes in their lives.  I was upset that I didn't feel that I could join in their happiness even though I also carried my own beautiful child.  I just kept thinking, "Wow...grief is tricky business and I can't understand why I feel this way, but I will get there.  Maybe it will be when I start feeling him move more.  Maybe it won't be until after his delivery and or when I take him home or even later.  Maybe this is going to be harder that I thought."  I was struggling quite a bit while I was carrying a healthy baby boy. And then he died. He has been in the ground for over 3 months and I was under the impression that he would still be inside my womb.  If that isn't a strange experience, I don't know what is...

Therefore, how can you and I really expect to glide naively through life, as if to say, Lord, give me experience, but not grief, not sorrow, not pain, not opposition, not betrayal, and certainly not to be forsaken. Keep from me, Lord, all those experiences which made Thee what Thou art! Then let me come and dwell with Thee and fully share Thy joy!” -Neal A. Maxwell

Isaiah 57:10:Thou art wearied in the greatness of thy way; yet saidst thou not, There is no hope...

Miles

Eli has a younger brother.  His name is Miles Gardner Gause.  He was born on January 26, 2016 at 8:00pm.  He is with Eli.

I haven't written in months.  I'm not sure why.  I think part of it is because I wouldn't even know where to start.  I could start at the beginning, I guess, but I am really, really tired...physically, emotionally, spiritually.  Maybe I don't want to open up about it.  The pain is too hard for me to face at times.  I'll keep it simple today:
Miles is a beautiful and sacred part of our family.  I feel great comfort knowing He is safe with Eli and that they are together.  I know this is part of God's plan for our family.  Miles' mission here was much quieter.  I can't tell you how much I love my boys...and how much I miss them.

Christmas overhaul

I haven't written about our Christmas yet...I think I had some excitement and some anticipation going into the holiday season this year.  I remember last year and figured it couldn't be worse than that, so that was reassuring...but I also remember last year and that made me a little anxious.  What would it be like this year?

I remember... before Eli died... I would hear things about the holidays being tender or difficult for people that had lost a loved one.  I barely understood what grief was in a theoretical sense, so I certainly didn't know what it would mean in my new reality.  I thought...I won't have to deal with that.  Lucky me.  That only applies to people who have once enjoyed a holiday with their loved one and they have since passed away.  Eli was never here for Christmas, so that won't stir up anything for me. There are multiple things I thought I wouldn't have to deal with in the world of grief that have surprised me and this was one of them.  Something I have learned is that grief covers everything in your world.  It permeates your whole life and affects things that you didn't think it could or should or would touch.  It sort of descends on everything and makes some things better, some worse, some more meaningful, some without meaning, etc.  It just changes everything.

I have graduated, somewhat, from the naive feeling I had about the holidays not "affecting" me and knew that Christmas would affect my grief.  I have found peace with this idea.

This year felt like big deal to me.  I practically missed last year.  I was so absent emotionally.  As I look back at pictures I see myself, but don't honestly remember much about being there...probably because I wasn't.  Your mind has a powerful way of transporting you somewhere else even if you body is present.  I felt excitement about this year as I prepared and shopped and did traditions with my family again.  I also felt some sense of anticipation as we changed a few traditions to help us remember Eli and make the holidays meaningful.  I felt DONE with the fluff...the silliness...the extra's that just ended up weighing me down and taking up my time.  I wanted to trim the fat and do only those things that would help us remember our Savior and feel closer as a family.  I also wanted some meanigful traditions that would help us feel a closeness to Eli.  We planned our holidays, partiuclarly Christmas Eve, and I wondered how it would feel.  I really wondered how the kids would receive it.  It wasn't as much "fun" as what we had done in the past and I worried that is would be a disappointment to them and they would simply "tolerate" what mom had planned.  But as the days played out, things were smooth and sweet.  We all enjoyed our new simplified and meaningful traditions and I felt a sense of peace about our changes.

I'll share a few things we did.  On Christmas Eve we went to the cemetery and left a lighted candle on Eli's grave.  This is a tradition that many people have and it is was very sweet to me to see so many families gathered around graves in the snow...probably heading off to their holiday parties afterwards...but taking time to remember their loved ones on this important day.  We also decided to sing some Christmas carols.  We aren't exactly a Christmas caroling family, but I enjoy singing and I thought it would be fun to try.  We stood there in the cold and sang.  At first, it felt a little awkward for us.  There was a family near us and we aren't exactly the Mormon Tabernacle choir, but after just a few lines I started to feel comfortable.  I didn't care who heard.  We were there and we were sharing some sweet moments with our son.  We had a nice candle lit dinner that night and spent some time talking about Eli and our other brother, Jesus Christ.  We talked about how sacred and holy Eli's birth had been.  He is the nearest thing to perfection that we will meet in this life.  Then we tried to imagine how Christ's birth had been.  Because of Eli, our family has a very tangible and real connection to something that was more of a story before.  We were able to connect the sacredness of Eli's birth and death to our Savior.  I think it made it much more real for my family.  I think about Mary and her experiences.  I feel I can read that story with a new perspective now.  We talked about two brothers in heaven...how both wanted us to come back and would do anything to help us get there.

We gave each of the kids a little box that looked like a treasure chest.  Each year Eli will give them a gift that will help them remember him in some way.  We also had a family gift from Eli...a "memory gift."  It is meant to be something that will help us to keep creating meaningful memories as a family much as we did when we did our baby bucket list.  This year he gave us passes to a children's museum we hadn't been to. I was surprised as I watched our kids.  They seemed happy and content and hardly missed the crazy, fun things we had done in the past.  I guess we all want to be spiritually fed no matter our age and that need is stronger than our need to just have "fun."  (Of course, there is a need for fun too, but on this day, we needed something else). Our family just needed to be fed and strengthened.

This year I had a stocking made for Eli.  Each year, we will buy him a book.  This year it was "As Long as I'm living my Baby you'll be."  It was very fitting and appropriate for how I feel right now. I will always feel that he is my baby in many ways...even thought I know he isn't in infant form right now.  He will always be my "baby" literally and figuratively just as all of my kids are my babies.  We read this book together .  We also  read the books we had read in the hospital when he was here with us.  It was tender and sweet to do that as a family.

This year, I felt that taking the time to do those things on Christmas Eve was tremendously helpful in my grieving process.  I needed time to think and have tender feeling towards Eli.  When the excitement of the other Christmas festivities came along it wasn't grinding on me because we had taken that time already.  It was okay to have fun and enjoy the lighter side of Christmas because we had done the things of true importance first.

Lincoln's thoughts

Lincoln is very matter of fact about Eli.  The other day he saw our family picture, at the hospital, and asked where we were.  It was strange of him to ask, because he has seen and talked about that picture many times.  It is on top of our piano, so it isn't exactly hidden away.  He said...we saw Eli at the hospital, them we took him to the cemetery, then we bought him a Christmas tree (the one from a month and a half ago), then it died, then we gave it some water and now Eli is happy.  So concise and true...pretty simple...

He frequently says to me, "Mom...we have a baby!! It's Eli!"  It's like he just clued into all of the talk about babies and he is connecting to it...he understands, as if for the first time, that we have a baby too!  I don't think he sees the discrepany between Eli life and any other baby's life.

Another random thought from Lincoln...I believe he is under the impression that there is a secret tunnel that starts as the cemetery and takes you to heaven.  He always talks about how Eli is up in the clouds...(which isn't something I have said)... and he got there by going underground in the cemetery up to Heavenly Father.  He likes to talk about this with elaborate hand motions indicating a direct route from his grave to heaven. I talk with him about the spirit and the body and how his body is at the cemetery and his spirit is in heaven.  It hasn't clicked.  I guess he had to make sense of the fact that we talk about Eli's grave at the cemetery and Eli being in heaven.  A secret passage makes perfect sense...now, if only I could find the entrace...

Kisses from Heaven

On  the 5th of every month, someone leaves 5 Hershey kisses on our front porch.  We don't know who this sweet person is.  We take them to the cemetery and pass them out telling the kids they are kisses from Eli.

Since a year has past now, I wondered if the kisses would stop.  In general, people are done talking about your grief before you are...you are never really done.  I have watched the differing responses to me over the many months.  I don't feel as judgmental as I used to about it.  Some never offered condolences...maybe it was too awkward.  Some were "done" after the memorial when things were just starting for me. Some continued in their sensitivity for weeks and months.  But as time has worn on, less and less people will ask me how I am or how I am feeling.  That has been hard as I have attended family and social gatherings, but I have learned how to deal with it (or avoid the gatherings...).  Some people are healing, some people are like salt in a wound and others and neither helpful or unhelpful.  I have accepted (somewhat) that people move on with their lives.  They have processed what has happened in your life even if you haven't and it doesn't occur to them that you are still hurting...a lot... and would love to talk about it...even for a minute or two.  Or, people are not sure what to say so they avoid the whole thing...either way, there is a lot less talking about Eli and a lot more talking about things I couldn't care less about it.

I also found that some people treated me like a fire and finally approached me after months....maybe thinking things had blown over by now and the fire was out, so we could talk about the mundane.  Through all of this, I have found some acceptance of this (because there's not much I can do about it)  and I knew that the kisses might stop at the pivotal 1 year mark.  I think I was bracing myself for it and it was okay.  I don't feel the need to talk constantly about Eli and my broken heart and I feel grateful for the wonderful kindnesses that have been shown to our family, so I felt I could take it if another person was "done" with doing this sweet thing.  It would be okay.

I was pretty surprised when I pulled out of the driveway again, after 14 months,  and saw a little bag of kisses hanging on the doorknob of our front door.  Someone remembered and they didn't have to.  I'm sure whoever does this for us has a million other things to think about and do...I'm sure their life is busy and chaotic at times, and yet, there they were...our kisses.  The smallest things mean so much to me.

Remembering Eli means so much to me.

Containable

I had this idea that a year or so into this journey I would feel more like sharing certain things....things about the day we buried him and the really difficult days that followed that.  Somehow, I thought I would be "ready" to talk about that part.  Instead, my feelings have taken a different path.  The longer I miss Eli and the less I feel the need to share everything.  

In the beginning, I started blogging about Eli and our experiences to avoid having to call everyone with updates.  I was too exhausted to have an interaction with everyone, but knew that there were people who cared and I wanted them to know what was going on...physically.  Then, for some reason, which I don't totally understand, because I am sort of a private person, I wanted to share so much of what was going on...emotionally.  It felt like an escape for me. My feelings were so overflowing and uncontrolled and for some reason, it felt necessary to share these things.  It is strange because I feel a certain amount of anonymity with I write...like no one knows who I am....which, again, doesn't make a ton of sense because people that I do I know read my words.  I'm sure people who read this have a reaction, but I usually don't hear about it or see it, so it feels like this safe little place where I don't have to measure responses and be calculated about what I say.  And I think reading something, in the quiet of your own mind makes you feel something different than a face to face interaction.  Anyways....somehow I have felt safe sharing things that I can't believe I would share.  

In the early months (when I say this I should probably clarity that the "early days" could be defined as 9 or 12 months or so... ha! It still feels like the "early days" sometimes because I can remember events and dates so vividly and this journey was entirely unknown to me before). Anyways...in the "early days" I would tell anyone who would listen, willingly or unwillingly, exactly how I felt that day and why.  I felt like I needed people to help me carry this weight that felt too large and much too heavy for one person to carry.  I couldn't have an interaction without talking about Eli and if I did have an interaction where we didn't talk about him, it was devastating.  I couldn't handle it.  My grief was spilling everywhere...no way to contain it and sharing was so necessary and therapeutic.

As time has gone on, I don't feel that need all the time.  I can talk to someone about something light and be perfectly okay with it.  (Or I can pretend I am okay with it and that is something).  I feel much more selective about what I share and who I share it with and am almost aghast at what I said to people before.  I don't feel like everyone needs or should know about Eli.  It is much too sacred.  Sometimes I wish I could move, so that no one knows about Eli and I can tell who I want and keep him a little closer to my heart.  

There are still things that are very hard for me to think about.  I can't even imagine writing about them and I certainly wouldn't right now (or maybe ever).  I feel perfectly content with this.  Some things are too beautiful and sacred or difficult and raw to share.  I don't feel the need to anymore and that is reassuring somehow...because that is the ME I am used to.