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.  

Christmas

I feel like I missed Christmas last year.  I know it happened.  I have pictures.  I have a calendar that says it happened, but I feel like we skipped it.  We only bought gifts for our kids...that is sort of a requirement.  I should probably clarify that Jason bought presents for the kids.  We didn't worry about anyone else.  Jason was a little concerned about it, but I wasn't (he is nicer than I am).  I figured if someone was mad because we didn't buy them a gift that would reveal a lot about our relationship.  Nobody got mad (that I know of).

This holiday season has been much different for me.  I am not missing it this year.  I feel like part of me is alive again.  I look forward to all of the traditions we do together as a family.  I have enjoyed shopping and seeing lights and making gingerbread houses. It is so refreshing to feel that again.  I feel a difference in my attitude towards the Savior.  I think that I always tried to focus on Christ this time of year.  I was constantly frustrated that we had to have relief society activities and books written about how to keep Christ in Christmas.  It seems that we have really gotten ourselves into a mess when that has to be the topic of anything...it is such a given and so unfortunate that it has become a challenge.  I'm not trying to act holier than thou when I say that...it is just so sad that our culture has necessitated that kind of dialogue at all.  So this isn't the first year where I felt that a visit to Santa was completely optional and not at all necessary for a complete December.  It isn't the first year where I've grown tired of hearing about Rudolph instead of Mary and Joseph.  But the birth of the Savior feels more personal to me now...for so many reasons....so many that I could never articulate or do justice to and some that are just too personal.  But, hopefully I can convey one thought about it.

We so desperately need a Savior.  Until He was born the entire human race was in "free fall..." as Jeffrey R. Holland said.  He states:

"What a plight! The entire human race in free fall—every man, woman, and child in it physically tumbling toward permanent death, spiritually plunging toward eternal anguish. Is that what life was meant to be? Is this the grand finale of the human experience? Are we all just hanging in a cold canyon somewhere in an indifferent universe, each of us searching for a toehold, each of us seeking for something to grip—with nothing but the feeling of sand sliding under our fingers, nothing to save us, nothing to hold on to, much less anything to hold on to us? Is our only purpose in life an empty existential exercise—simply to leap as high as we can, hang on for our prescribed three score years and ten, then fail and fall, and keep falling forever?  The answer to those questions is an unequivocal and eternal no!"  Where Justice, Love, and Mercy Meet

I think I sense more than ever the need I personally have for a Savior.  I have felt that need for most of my life, but it feel a little more precarious now.  I have a son in heaven.  He will certainly inherit celestial glory.  If I do not, somehow, get better than I am, I will never be with him.  I have a lot of shortcomings that need improving and feel pretty incapable of doing this.  I need someone to help me become something different than what I am now.  I need a power far greater than my own.  Without a Savior, there would be no hope for me.  Without a Savior, Eli's sweet little body that grew inside of me...that was so alive... would sleep forever in his tiny grave.  I can't really handle the thought of that...and, thankfully,  I don't have to because I know he won't sleep forever.  I need to know that he will be brought forth and his spirit and his body will be reunited again never to be separated.  I think this feels more personal to me because Eli's body was connected to me almost the entire time he was alive. He was part of me.  He is still part of me.  I am very protective of his mortal tabernacle.  He is my child.  I was partner in creation as I helped to form his body.  I am not okay with the situation right now.  I can only survive because I know this isn't a permanent situation.  The maternal instinct in me has never been so heightened.  I need someone to fix this.  Only my Savior can.  He has paid the price so that I can be reunited with my son.  He has paid the price so that I can change and be better through a power that is far greater than my own.  It is very personal now.  And without His birth into mortality, none of this would be possible.  I would be in despair.  So, Christmas feels different to me now.  His birth means something different to me now.  It isn't a nice story about a mother who had to ride/walk almost 100 miles while she was nine months pregnant only to give birth to the very Son of God in a stable filled with animals and who knows what else.... it isn't about some sleepy shepherds on a hill that were unexpectedly visited by angels telling of one of the greatest moments the earth had ever and will ever see.  His birth matters so much because of what Christ came to do and the sacrifices made by his earthly mother and father so He could do it.  Because I feel how personally and desperately I need Him, I rejoice, as did the angels, when I think about His birth.  I rejoice in the King of Kings that came to save us from death and sin and from mortality.  These truly are glad tidings of great joy.  I am happy that I am not missing Christmas this year. 

Me and Jason were lucky enough to attend the Millennial Choirs and Orchestras concert, Rejoice, last week.  It was one of the highlights of this holiday season.  Truly amazing!  My beautiful and dear friend, Kelly, sang in the performance.  They sang one of my favorite Christmas songs: O Come, O Come Emmanuel.  I feel this song captures the desperate need we have for a Savior.  His birth was a truly a time for rejoicing.  Listening to this song in person was so powerful and emotional.  The conductor gave an explanation of this particular arrangement (which I wish I could remember and regurgitate because it helped me understand and appreciate the performance so much more).  It's quite a long song and so much better in person, but this is better than nothing.

O Come, O Come Emmanuel-Millennial Choirs and Orchestras

I also really like this version of the same song by Vocal Point.  It is much shorter and has a very different feel:

O Come, O Come Emmanuel- Vocal Point