To plan or not to plan

I am a planner.  If I don't know what I am making for dinner by 11 am, it is a rough day.  I like to plan very far in advance.  Here's a great example.  Last year, in January, I thought I would have a baby this Christmas. I know that when I have a baby, it is a lot harder to do things.  So, I bought a bunch of neighbor gifts in January so I would be ready for December.  I saved every single binky that I bought for all of my kids... just in case baby #4 liked any of them.  I have saved almost every piece of clothing that either Katelyn, Ethan or Lincoln has worn so that if baby #4 is a boy or a girl, I will be ready.  I bought a nice new stroller and car seat when we had Lincoln to replace our first, low cost car seat and stroller we bought with Katelyn.  I just knew that we would be using it for 2 kids, so I didn't mind spending a little extra money.  I made sure it was gender neutral even though I knew Lincoln was coming.  I have a big Tupperware full of Katelyn's princess paraphernalia, just in case #4 was a girl.  I buy winter boots in dark blue (gender neutral again) in every other size, because everyone can wear them and there will always be a size that sort of fits.  I have recently relented and bought Katelyn pink boots. Half of the storage in my basement is either baby stuff or kids clothes.  

I am not a hoarder.  In fact, I frequently throw away things I shouldn't because I don't want a bunch of stuff cluttering up my house.  One time a threw away a cell phone box that cost us $70 because we needed the UPC code for the rebate.

I made sure everything that needed to be done before baby #4 came was done last January because I knew that I would be too sick to do much.  It is really quite obnoxious, looking back. I really left no room for a change in my plans.  I was just trying to prepare.

The other day, Jason was at Costco trying to decide it he should but 1 pack of ink cartridges or 2.  There was a better rebate for buying 2 and he needed my input. When he asked, I thought, "Well buying a 2 year supply of anything, is assuming a lot.  That assumes that we will be alive in 2 years and need the cartridges.  That assumes that the world will still be turning and our printer won't be destroyed in the rubble of our house after the big earthquake...etc."  Well, I told him to go ahead and buy the 2 packages, but was so bothered by my previous planning I had done. I wanted to go in the basement a haul all my crap to the dump in big black garbage bags.  

I was so annoyed that I had assumed that I would need all of that stuff.  I had certainly assumed I would be able to get pregnant.  That is quite an assumption.  I mean, I never had problems before, but I just assumed it would be mine for the asking.  I assumed that I would stay pregnant. I assumed that my baby would be born alive. I assumed that the baby would come home in a car seat. I assumed that I would use all of that stuff.  It never crossed my mind that my plan would go very differently. I thought if it didn't work out, it would be a timing issue instead of death issue.  Anyways, the whole experience left me really thinking about my hypertensive planning problems.  I started to get mad about my year supply of food.  "What a waste!" I thought.  We always plan on needing something: like my baby stuff and my food storage.  We never plan on NOT needing stuff.  (Because that doesn't require planning.)  I was just so aware of how rigid I was in my plans for the future.  

I think that is part of the reason it is so hard for me to go forward.  My life seems so open ended.  I have never felt this way.  When I was in grade school, the next step was middle school, then high school, then college, then a job, then marriage, then a baby, then a baby, then a baby, then a baby, then...something (I didn't get that far in my planning; I didn't have to plan that until baby #4).... I didn't have all of those steps along the way, but every time I had a major life change, it seemed like there was another step waiting for me. I felt like I always knew what was coming... more or less.  But this is pretty different than I imagined and I still feel a little too rigid. I didn't realize that as I was doing that. I don't think it is bad to plan. I imagine that I will do it again, but it will never feel the same.  I thought I was "flexible" and was willing to let God take me where I needed to go.  I never had a deviation big enough to make me feel disoriented and confused. 

It is really quite shocking that my life did go roughly the way I thought it would for so long.  

skin

After Jason blessed Eli, the doctors and nurses stopped breathing for Eli.  He was 31 minutes old and hadn't taken a breath or moved on his own.  They had given us the opportunity to bless him, and we thought this would be our time to say goodbye to him.  We felt at peace with this, and were grateful for the time we had been given with him. After they took the mask off him, Jason said he felt his back arch, ever so slightly, and he began to breath; even though this was not something Jason had blessed him with.  I sensed that he felt so much love in the room from all of his family members.  He wanted to stay a little longer.

They asked me if I wanted to put his beautiful, fragile body against my skin.  I couldn't imagine a more perfect thing in all the world to feel him like that.  There is something so soothing and healing about being against another person we love; especially for a mother and her child.  The only way I can describe this experience is that is was natural.  There wasn't fireworks or excitement.  It just felt like he should be there. Because he should. I felt complete.

lesson #1

I thought this especially appropriate to post today as this week has been filled with these truths...The light is always followed by something else.

When I was trying to prepare my thoughts for Eli's memorial I had a hard time narrowing down what to say.  I have learned so many things the last 5 months and wasn't sure what would be best to talk about.  I wanted to talk about him and what our experience was like during the 5 hours he was here.  I wanted to talk about the time we had with him after he passed away.  I wanted to talk about what God has taught me.  I felt very directed to say the things I did.  I felt like I had to be Eli's voice.  It wasn't the experience I would have envisioned if someone had told me a year ago that I would be doing a funeral for my child.  But, God had prepared me before he was born in so many ways to do this.  He had prepared me before we were pregnant with Eli.  I decided to share 5 lessons I learned from Eli.  I want to tell you what they are.  I learned a lot more than 5 things, but these were the 5 I felt I needed to talk about: 

lesson 1: Eli taught me that increased light is always accompanied by darkness, but light always wins in the end.

From the beginning of this experience I noticed a pattern. I have received a great deal of inspiration  and revelation during this journey. It started right when we had our first ultrasound of Eli on July 3rd. I could feel the adversary trying harder and harder to surround these experiences with darkness and deception. This isn't  what I want to focus in today, but I felt directed to mention this, at least briefly. About half way through July, I started to sense what was happening and it seemed to make sense somewhere inside me. Of course great light would be preceded or followed by darkness. The recognition of this pattern helped me understand it but didn't stop it or stop the effects of it. I read a talk in October by Jeffrey R. Holland that helped this concept be put into words. He said:

There is a lesson in the Prophet Joseph Smith’s account of the First Vision which virtually every Latter-day Saint has had occasion to experience, or one day soon will. It is the plain and very sobering truth that before great moments, certainly before great spiritual moments, there can come adversity, opposition, and darkness. Life has some of those moments for us, and occasionally they come just as we are approaching an important decision or a significant step in our lives

Joseph Smith History 1:15-17. 

15:After I had retired to the place where I had previously designed to go, having looked around me, and finding myself alone, I kneeled down and began to offer up the desires of my heart to God. I had scarcely done so, when immediately I was seized upon by some power which entirely overcame me, and had such an astonishing influence over me as to bind my tongue so that I could not speak. Thick darkness gathered around me, and it seemed to me for a time as if I were doomed to sudden destruction.

 16 But, exerting all my powers to call upon God to deliver me out of the power of this enemy which had seized upon me, and at the very moment when I was ready to sink into despair and abandon myself to destruction—not to an imaginary ruin, but to the power of some actual being from the unseen world, who had such marvelous power as I had never before felt in any being—just at this moment of great alarm, I saw a pillar of light exactly over my head, above the brightness of the sun, which descended gradually until it fell upon me.

 17 It no sooner appeared than I found myself delivered from the enemy which held me bound. When the light rested upon me I saw two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description, standing above me in the air. One of them spake unto me, calling me by name and said, pointing to the other—This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him!

This pattern was evident as we tried to answer a lot of urgent questions along our way. Some of these questions are easy to understand. 

1. We needed to decide if I would continue to carry him even though we knew his probable outcome. This Wasn't hard to answer.

2. We had to decide what kind of delivery to do... Was a c-sec an option?

3. We had to decide if we would do any resuscitation measures after he was born

4. We had to decide exactly when to deliver him

Surprisingly... These were the easier questions for us to answer. God directed us and allowed us to have very sacred and personal experiences so we could feel confident in making these decisions. I felt so responsible at the beginning. I felt like of I made the "wrong" choice about something I would be controlling how long he lived or died. It was a tremendous burden. But, I was able to understand that I had to be a clean and pure vessel through which God could do His work. The more I internalized this truth The more I realized that I had no control over what happened. This was actually a relief to me. God told me several times along this journey that this He was in charge. I didn't have to feel like I was. I just had to play my part. I felt like I could do that.

But there were harder questions that came....questions that are too personal to share. Many times the adversary would try to plant false ideas in my head about my purpose in this. As these afflictions came...questions came with it.  These questions caused me to seek God in an urgent way. I needed peace and reassurance. Because these questions were so painful, the answers came in a powerful way. I ended up being so grateful for the questions because, without them, I never could have received the answers I did. I never could have known the truths God taught me... Because I wouldn't have cared. I thought about how God works in mysterious ways, his ways are higher than our ways, I felt like the adversary sparked most of these questions...which were rooted in my insecurities ...and God answered them in a way that couldn't be denied or dimmed. I always thought God would just make me "feel better..." when I struggled. Instead he taught me doctrinal truths that couldn't be forgotten or doubted later. Looking back on each of these experiences, has made me so grateful for the questions he allowed into my heart

So, Eli taught me that increased light is always accompanied by darkness, but light always wins in the end. Gods power is always more powerful than the adversary's...always.

the 5th

It has been one month since Eli was born.  It seems much, much longer than that to me.  I drove to the cemetery today.  I had never been there before we buried Eli.  I have been there many, many times since.  Did you know the entrance is on 400 North?  I didn't.  I still feel like I don't belong there.  As I drove down there today, I realized that I didn't want to be there today because it will remind me that he died.  

I want the 5th to be a day where I remember him alive.  Since, it is the same day he died, that might be a bit confusing, but that's the part I want to remember.  I don't want to think that he would be "1 month old" today.  That doesn't help.  Because he isn't a month old.  I don't really know how old he is  God doesn't measure time like us.  But, if I think of him as a month old, than I only remember that he isn't and I look around at all the babies that ARE a month old (and there are plenty to look at...don't worry about that), and that is useless and kind of an incorrect idea.  Here's another thing to think about.  If he were here, and he were a month old, he wouldn't be doing the same things as other 1 month old babies.  He would never be the same because he had trisomy 18.  He would probably be going in for surgery or getting a new feeding tube or something. But God never intended for him to be here on December 5th anyways...It is amazing how my mind wants to imagine him as a healthy baby boy, but God never imagined that.  It wasn't in His plan. I have a hard time reconciling that idea. 

I wanted to go to that sacred hospital room (LD 18), but I knew it wouldn't be sacred without him there.  So, I drove down to the cemetery, even after I thought it was a bad idea.  It's really the only place left to go. I always have a good experience there.  It is usually quiet and calm and I feel close to Eli there.  We have conversations, and I tell him lots of things.  Sometimes, he even tells me things, but he isn't nearly as chatty as me.  Sometimes I just sit there because when you love someone, you don't have to talk all the time.  You just have to be there with each other.

I pulled up to my usual spot and there was an unusual amount of cars there.  Did you know that people are dying all the time?  They are. If you go to the cemetery, you will notice this too.  There was a funeral very close to where Eli was buried. I saw about 25 old men in uniform and a casket with a flag over it.  I had the sense that these guys went to lots of funerals.  In fact, as I sat by Eli's grave, I heard a man ask another man if he thought "the body was in the back of the truck over there....like the time they saw that in Salem?"  I just stared at them as they walked by.  I thought that any one of them could be next and they probably all knew it.  I thought it was good they were all retired and had time to go to funerals all the time.  

I felt like I didn't belong there.  I have felt like that a lot when I go there.  I think "I shouldn't be here!!"  I see older people there and I think, "Those are the people that belong here."  I guess no one really wants to go to the cemetery, but when you are young and you have to take pretzels and goldfish to your baby's funeral for your other kids, it seems very backwards.   People are supposed to die in a certain order and we get pretty upset when the order isn't what we wanted. 

It does something rough to you psychologically, to bury your child.  So, after a couple of minutes, I just left.  I knew that there was no way I could have the experience I wanted with Eli with all of those people there and I didn't really want to remember his death today. 

I wanted to remember that he lived...and that he still lives.

dream

I had a dream last night. I was holding a baby. It was my baby. It wasn't Eli. I don't know if it was a boy or a girl. My other kids were the same ages as they are now. Me and Jason were in a hurry to get somewhere and we gathered up the kids and our baby to go. I didn't have any intense emotions towards the baby. It was our baby, and I loved him/her, but the emotions were not overwhelming. 

I woke up and realized it was only a dream and this was real life. I didn't really have a baby to take care of. I wasn't overly sad about the dream. I didn't think about it for several more hours. Later on I thought about it and wondered why my kids were the same ages as they are right now. I wondered why I didn't love and hold onto that baby in a different way in my dream. I wondered why I didn't feel more emotion towards the baby. I wondered if the dream was my old "plan".  Was it a way to show me what my life could be like? Could I ever really know how precious and sweet that baby was until it was gone? Why can't THIS part be the dream?

I have wondered if this experience is a way to show me what is important.  Was God trying to help me appreciate the blessings He has given me? Was I blind before? I was blind in some ways, but not because I wanted to be.  I sought God and I wanted to love my family fully.  I wanted to focus on what mattered most.  I have always felt this and have made sacrifices to do this.  But, I couldn't do it fully because I had never experienced joy and pain in such a powerful and profound way.  It is like a pendulum swinging back and forth.  You can't swing one way without it swinging the other way.  My pendulum just wasn't swinging that hard.  It wasn't my fault.  It just didn't have a reason to.  

As Neal A. Maxwell stated: "...the cavity which suffering carves into our souls will one day be the receptacle of joy."  Do I get to experience this so that everyone who has a baby to hold will hold onto them a little tighter?  That might be part of it.  There are lots of reasons...some I know... many I do not know.

I thought about the dream and about the first time I held each of my children.  I thought about how I felt. 

Here is a picture of the first time I held Lincoln. It is a nice picture.

Here is a picture of the first time I held Eli.  It is a different picture.

a name and a blessing

After each of us held Eli we wanted to give him a blessing.  This is not saving ordinance;  just a beautiful thing that fathers, who hold the Melchizedek priesthood, get to perform.  We knew that Eli was sealed to us whether or not he was born alive.  It was such a wonderful privilege for Jason to do this.  Eli still hadn't taken a breath up to this time, so we didn't waste any time getting our family members in the room with us.  They had been waiting and waiting for Eli to come. I didn't notice a lot of people as they came in.  I didn't feel anxious having that many people in the room right after I had given birth (which is very unlike me).  I was pretty unaware of anything except my kids, Jason and especially Eli.  The men in the room gathered around Eli as Jason gave the blessing.  I knew it would be his first and last chance to bless Eli, but my heart rejoiced in this.  Here is what Jason said about this experience:

Each of my children's births have been spiritual, but not like this one.  I don't know why in my life I never fully understood how sacred and spiritual the birthing process is.  I'm not sure that I fully understand it now either.  However I felt the spirit so strongly in that hospital room the minute Eli's body came from his mother’s womb.  There were heavenly messengers there and the veil was so thin I consciously looked multiple times throughout the afternoon expecting see others from the other side of the veil. 

I really wanted to give Eli a name and a blessing.  Thankfully we were given that opportunity.   When I began the blessing it was if someone literally dumped a bucket of spiritual, eternal love all over me and my being soaked it up.  I was moved and overwhelmed by the feeling that seemed to emanate and radiate from Eli, and from some spiritual being or beings that our eyes couldn't see.  I felt so inadequate to bless Eli; someone who literally came mere minutes before from the presence of God.  The surge of spirituality was so strong that it energized me from head to toe like nothing I had ever felt... the words flowed freely and when the blessing closed I felt drained, depleted, and simply put human.  The contrast was so stark I was flabbergasted.  It was one of the most powerful experiences of my life.  

Miraculously, after the blessing, they took the breathing mask off and Eli began to breathe on this own.  Brooke and I talked about how much he must have wanted to stay and how hard he fought to fulfill the promises made in earlier blessings given to Brooke, me, and the kids.  I don't think I realized that just because you have been given a blessing that it doesn't mean that you don't need to fight for those blessings.  They aren't given often times without a price.  I hadn't contemplated that as we have agency so does my son who can barely move he too has agency.  He chose to come to this earth, he knew what was in those blessings and he could have bowed out and said it is too hard I can't go on, but he chose to fulfill the blessings given.

I told Brooke early on in this process that if we truly comprehend who Eli is, what his mission is, how pure and noble he is, we would have a red carpet rolled out upon his arrival.  I was able to see clearly as I was blessing him in the hospital just how true that was.  Eli spirit is majestic, powerful, bold, valiant, obedient, and lionhearted. How humbling and foreign it must have been for him for his powerful spirit to live in a body that was so weak, hard to move, breathe, and to experience life in.  

my last "normal" day

I haven't had a "normal" day since July 2nd.  We had our first ultrasound of Eli on July 3rd.  Our world was completely turned upside down.  That may not sound like a long time to you, but it has been a long time for me. I have woken up every morning with a weight.  For many months there was an uncertainty that came with the weight.  There is no more uncertainty...at least as far as Eli is concerned.  I feel a little uncertain about my future. I don't remember how I felt before I found out about Eli.  I can't imagine what I worried and fretted about... but I had plenty to worry and fret about.  I don't view the world in the same way anymore.  Hardly anything we spend our time on REALLY matters.  

I don't wake up and "remember" what has happened.  It has become part of my cognition.  It doesn't come and go when I sleep.  I am constantly aware of Eli.  I was constantly aware that I was pregnant, that he wasn't going to live, and now I am constantly aware that he is gone.  It has worked its way into every layer of my brain.  It should, because he is part of me. I guess if your arm was chopped off, you wouldn't forget about it either. I don't think I have ever felt a gnawing and continuous weight like this.  I have gone through hard things and difficult experiences, but rarely have I been completely consumed in it for a long period of time.  I was able to be distracted and compartmentalize things a little better.  Not any more.  It makes me feel like I will carry it forever.  I know that it will never be "over." My relationship with Eli is eternal...it is very much a relationship.  I know that will continue.  But, I would love to wake up and not feel the heaviness and consuming power of living in this telestial world.  I know this will happen, but I can see that it won't be quick.  It will be a gradual lightening of the load over an extended period of time.  I will wake up one day and the joy I have felt from this experience will be stronger than my pain.
In February...before I was pregnant, I watched this Mormon message:

Daily Bread: Pattern

It was very helpful. I was going into my pregnancy a little nervous about how I would physically survive it and take care of my family. I learned how to take things a day at a time.  I think we have all heard this, but I never had to put this into practice like I did at that time.  I tried very hard not to think ahead.  I tried to only think of the things I had to do that day. I would literally divide the day in half and only think ahead a couple of hours.  If I thought of the many, many days I had left in this physically taxing endeavor, I became horribly overwhelmed. It was a valuable lesson.  It carried me through the first few months.  I am doing this again, but not because of a physical limitation.  There is such beauty having to do this.  You realize how completely dependent you are on the Lord to provide the way for you.  We usually think of God providing the way in a broader sense and over a longer period of time.  But what about when we have no idea how we will make it until Friday and it is Wednesday?  You have to narrow your focus and open you mind to the hourly sustenance that God is willing to provide..

I know that the last several months have been more taxing on me than any other single experience of my life.  But, I am still here and I am still allowing God to teach me and help me grow.  This is a result of Him sustaining me; giving me enough to carry it. The 2nd verse in "How Firm a Foundation" states: "As they days may demand, so thy succor shall be." (How Firm a Foundation)

I had an interesting realization a few days ago.  I have wondered... (probably since July): When I will "feel better?"  When this will be "over?"  I think that's why the idea of grief being a lifetime process is so overwhelming to me.  I don't want it to be "over."  I want this experience, because Eli is the experience. But, I do want the pain to diminish a little.  I realized that I want to "feel better" so I can get back to "my life."  I missed the point.  This is my life.  I shouldn't wait until "God's plan" is over, so I can get back to "my plan."  I didn't consciously think this, but that's was at the root of it.  I wanted the testing period to be over so I could sit back and relax and enjoy myself again.  This whole life is a testing period.  

I heard a story from a very wise man.  He was telling us how Jeffrey R. Holland had been on an exhausting and lengthy trip with President Hinckley.  Because he was so tired and hadn't had much sleep, Elder Holland asked President Hinckley if he could come in "a little later" in the morning so he could get some much needed rest.  President Hinckely said something to the effect that he didn't have time to rest... that is what the millennium is for.  So, from the life and example of a prophet, we don't have time to sit around and drink lemonade.  We have work to do. 

I realized that to fully give my heart to God, I have to get over this: "When am I going to feel better...so I can get on with MY LIFE???"  I didn't (and don't) fully comprehend that giving our hearts to God is a day by day endeavor; not a one time decision.  I felt like my heart was given in so many ways when I felt I would have to give Eli to God.  I felt I was able to do this.  Imagine my surprise, when I realized that I hadn't given everything. Even after giving my precious baby, I still had some reservations in my soul.  I am going to have to think about this awhile.