Small Enough

Have you ever wondered if anyone is listening?  Or felt so defeated that you just wanted to lay down right where you are?  Or just wanted a hug or some reassurance?  Or needed to know that SOMEONE truly cared?  I know I have. 

Another thing I know is that life is both beautiful and messy.  Surviving the deaths of those that you love is messy.  Grieving is dirty work.  It’s hard and exhausting and painful and indefinite.  It’s ugly.  Yet while you’re doing that ugly work, there are the “simple” miracles of the sunrise, or rainbows, or the beauty of the fall leaves around you to remind you that it’s not all bad.  Life is good.  But sometimes, it sure is hard to see the forest for the trees…

On November 7, 2008 my cousin Brian passed away.  He was like a brother to me.  Being an only child, and growing up so close with my cousins, they were (and still are) my brothers.  Brian was only 32 when he went Home.  He had a heart attack.  It still doesn’t seem real to me.  I know it is, yet I can’t completely reconcile the fact that he really is gone.  When Addalee was born, I actually had the thought that I needed to call him and share the news.  Even though it’s been 3 years now since I’ve spoken to him, I still think to call him more often than not.

Because of this anniversary, I’ve been doing some reflecting.  For better or worse, when these days come around, I think about the loved one who is no longer here more than I do on the average day.  Brian is never far from my mind.  I think about how badly I miss him, but after going through what I have with Caroline, my heart is breaking again for his mom.  My aunt is living a nightmare.  She lives each day missing her son.  She has a grave to visit, and that’s no way for any parent to have to live.  The fact that so many of us are living with a piece of ourselves missing breaks my heart and makes me feel small and scared.

I came across this bible verse and it really struck me:  “This you have seen, O Lord; Do not keep silence.  O Lord, do not be far from me.” –Psalm 35:2.  I’m thankful to have had my faith when going through losing Brian and Caroline.  I feel comfort in knowing that we’ll all be reunited one day in Heaven.  Without that comfort, I believe it’d be too much to handle.  But what about those days when Heaven seems so exceedingly far away?!  What about the days when you’re all alone in the here and now?  Sometimes God can seem far away.  Sometimes I feel like I might be lost in the crowd.  I’m assured that this isn’t the case, yet I can’t help but feel it.  I’m so happy that I’m not the only one who has felt this.  I’m blessed by these words from the Bible – O Lord, do not be far from me!  Please let me feel you, comfort me, tell me everything is going to be alright. 

There’s a song that I really identify with called “Small Enough” by Nichole Nordeman.  It’s about feeling so small in the world and the grand scheme of things and defeated, and asking God to be small enough for you to feel Him.  I want to share my favorite part (and encourage you to check out the whole song)

All praise and all the honor be to the God of ancient mystery
Whose every sign and wonder turned the pages of our history
But tonight my heart is heavy
And I cannot keep from whispering this prayer
"Are You there?"

So, I’ve been asking Him, “Are You there?”  And the answer is yes.  Even if it is just a whisper.

Caroline's First Birthday

October has come and gone.  I have to admit, that I’m glad it’s behind me.  October was a month that I was dreading for a while.  It held so much emotion that I was scared to face it.  The thing about most situations is that you can’t avoid them forever.  Even if I had tried to avoid Caroline’s birthday and all the emotion attached to it, the day still would have come.  So, I chose to try to embrace it as much as I could.  Some days were better than others, but overall it wasn’t quite as hard as I thought it would be. 

I couldn’t decide what I thought we should do to honor our sweet girl’s first Heavenly birthday.  It was a lot like picking out her headstone in that nothing seemed good enough.  I saw something from a fellow BLM that really seemed like something I wanted to do.  I went to Hobby Lobby and picked out some fabric that I thought was pretty, and flannel to line them, and made some blankets.  I made 2 boy blankets and 2 girl blankets.  I prayed for the families who would receive these blankets while making them and after they were completed.  I included a letter that Arthur helped me write that shared our sympathy and offered some helpful resources and Bible verses.  We all delivered them to the hospital the day after her birthday as a family.  It was nice to visit the L&D floor not as a patient (I delivered Addie at the same hospital).  I would love for those blankets never to be used…

With Caroline, we actually have 2 anniversaries: the day we got the worst news ever, and the day we got to meet our girl.  So, October 19^th is the saddest day.  I found that the lead up to that day was the worst for me.  I couldn’t help but cry at the drop of a hat.  Thankfully, my awesome husband took off work to spend the day with me that day.  He woke me up with Addalee in his arms and told me that we were going to just get out of the house for the day.  So, I got up and got ready and we spent the day shopping and around town.  It was a welcomed distraction.  We still talked about Caroline and how much we love her and miss her, but I didn’t sit and focus on the sadness of the whole situation. 

On her actual birthday, we went to the cemetery and put fall flowers on her grave.  We spent some time talking to her and telling her about our lives now and about her little sister (I wonder if she can hear us).  It was hard to visit that grave, and that tiny headstone, but it is each time.  I have to say though, that it was really tough to see October 20, 2010 on the stone and know that an entire year has passed since I held that sweet little baby girl.  It’s tough to acknowledge that we’ve spent each and every day of the last year missing her, yearning for her, and thinking of her…and it doesn’t stop here. 

I guess I tried to put a timeline to things – let me explain:  You know when a task is too daunting; you break it down into smaller tasks or pieces.  I had taken on a “one day at a time” kind of existence after we lost Caroline.  It became this even more so in my pregnancy with Addalee.  I dealt with Caroline and Addie together and separately.  The grief with Caroline was so painful that I had to only handle anniversaries as they came. I couldn’t think of anything in the future.  Just like now, I can’t imagine being 5 years away from her.  I couldn’t fathom what it would be like to be out 1 year from that horrible night.  I don’t know for sure how to make this make sense to the rest of the world, but I’m going to give it a shot…it’s almost like I thought that it would get better at 1 year.  Like maybe a little part of me felt like I’d either get her back, or just stop feeling it when I met that mark.  Maybe I felt like if I met that goal, the 1 year mark, I’d have completed the mission and I’d get the reward.  Of course, I know now, and really knew then that it would just be an anniversary and that nothing would change from the day before it to the day after it, except getting to really recognize her.  I think it has helped me though, to know that I’m still standing, and standing with more assurance than I was in the days following losing her.  It helps me to know that we’ve lived through this year.  We’ve done all these firsts and lived to tell about it.

After Caroline’s funeral, we had the whole family to our house.  It was October 22.  Those hours were the only time for quite a while that I remember feeling okay.  Having all those people around us, loving us, loving her, was healing to me.  I didn’t feel like myself, but I did feel like the haze lifted at least momentarily. Well, this year, October 22 fell on a Saturday, so we opted to have everyone over!  I was thrilled that the family was interested and it was wonderful!  We had soup and chili and good conversations.  It was a beautiful clear and sunny day, so it was so nice to be outside.  I got pink, yellow, and white balloons for the balloon release.

They were bright and cheerful and sweet.  We all gathered in the back yard, we all got our balloons and then I said a few words.  Then we released our balloons…

You could see them forever!  It was beautiful!  Happy birthday, little Caroline!

We had this little sweetheart to celebrate big sister’s birthday, which sure was a blessing to this broken heart!

Also – Happy Halloween!

 

Dragging Feet

Have you ever wanted to keep dragging your feet so that you don't have to face something?  Did you normally find that once you did, you had relief?  Perhaps because it wasn't as bad as you had anticipated, or maybe just to have that particular thing behind you lifted weight off your shoulders?

That's how it has typically worked in my life.  I think back to school when I'd have a book report or speech due...I would dread that like the plague, and then feel like I had a new lease on life when it was behind me.  In "adult life," I have had several dreaded things that I've come through.  I have tried to handle them with dignity and grace.  I always thought that I'd be able to.  Being a planner, I figured that I had prepared so that I could handle most any situation that could arise with dignity and grace.  That dignity and that grace went out the window when Caroline died.  My daughter died.  I couldn't muster any dignity, and I lost all my grace.  The only way I have survived to this point is by the sheer grace of God.  I actually feel kind of like I'm running on borrowed strength, under someone else's power.  I feel fairly weak, fragile, broken.

I was blessed to be able to experience so much good since we lost Caroline.  We experienced so many good things in our dark days following her death; little miracles to a crushed family.  Then we got a great big candle in the darkness, our Addalee.  She is such a blessing to this broken mama.  I know that Caroline helped me to love Addie with a love that I didn't have before.  I am incredibly thankful for this.  Caroline brought so many beautiful things into my life, through her life and her death.  She still brings a smile to my face (and a tear to my eye) each day.

Now back to the foot dragging I was talking about earlier.  October is so close.  October.  It used to be one of my favorite months, and autumn one of my favorite seasons.  Now, I'm dreading it.  I'm ignoring it, well, as much as you can ignore the inevitable.  You see, autumn is a wonderful season.  The air is crisp and cool, the leaves are beautiful, there are football games, hay rides, ghost stories, bon fires, trick-or-treating, and in our family, it's birthday season.  My husband, mom, and I all have birthdays in October.  We didn't feel like it was a happy coincidence that Caroline was going to be an October baby too.  Just another person to celebrate!  However, now October holds something I dread.  Each year, will be another year further from her.  Each year I will celebrate how much I love her, how much she changed me, how much I miss her.  Each year I will reflect on where she "should be" this time around, what milestones we're missing with her.  This is hard to face.  I don't want to face it.  I want Octobers not to roll around.  I want an October-less year.  I know this can't happen, and that really, I don't want it to.  I don't want to take the easy way out, Caroline deserves more than that from me, as does Addalee.  But it's so hard to stand up tall, take a deep breath, and just walk into this when all I want to do is cry and cover up my head.

So as I stand here, nearing the end of September, and looking over the edge of October, I'm scared.  I'm scared, but I'm still moving forward.  That's what I have to keep doing...one foot in front of the other.  Not each step is pretty, but I keep taking them.

Having this girl here makes it seem a bit easier

Anniversaries and Keeping Time

It seems like so much of our lives is spent keeping track of dates and times.  We're always counting down until our next appointment, marking off days until our big vacation, a loved one's birthday or retirement, a holiday.  After we lost Caroline, my first countdowns were those first few days after the funeral.  Each day, when 7:27 pm would pass, I'd tick another one off.  Then, I counted down until my 6 week checkup visit.  I had so many questions that I needed to have answered, and it felt like those weeks wouldn't go fast enough.  Then, I graduated to counting months.  And while I was counting "Caroline's months," I was blessed to be able to count Addalee's weeks.

Now, Caroline's little sister is here, and we're counting hours between feedings.  A welcomed countdown, so different than our past experience.  But, we're still counting Caroline's months.  And we're getting very close to Caroline's first birthday in Heaven.  I honestly don't even know what to do with myself.  The method I've chosen to deal with thinking of Caroline's first birthday has been to kind of ignore it up to this point.  It was kind of like I never really expected to get there...does that make sense?  So, we're so close to October that I can smell Autumn in the air.  And I'm terrified.  I don't have any idea what I should do.  I want to honor my sweet girl, my first daughter.  I want others to be able to honor her too.  I'm not sure if I should have a "birthday party," or what.  Basically, I'm clueless.  I don't know what I'm expecting to find from sharing this with all of you, or if I'm just spilling my guts.  Actually, I'm just spilling my guts.  I don't really know how to talk about this to the real world.  I have tons of people around me who support me and love me, but I'm just so stinking weepy when I talk about Caroline's birthday.  I'm missing her so badly these days and I don't want to always be Debby Downer.  I've heard a term that couldn't fit me better - I'm a "happy sad mama."  I'm so happy to have Addalee here, and I'm over the moon for her, but part of my heart is in Heaven with Caroline.

So again, I don't know what to do for Caroline's angelversary.  I want to do something special because I love her so much.  I think that a lot of my problem is that nothing seems good enough.

Retirement and 9 months

Yeah...so, I retired from my job.  Sounds silly, I know, but I did.  My dad and I are actually retiring together!  Crazy!!!!  It feels really strange to not have a job anymore.  I mean, you go to school, you get a job, and you work...until you're older.  (I don't mean like an elderly person, but older than 30, typically)  Basically, the situation of our lives led us to consider my retirement.  When I was pregnant with Caroline, there was no question that I was going back to work after she was born.  I was going to take a respectable 3 months off and begrudgingly go back to work.  Well, things didn't go according to plan.  I think I ended up having to take about a month off.  I don't know if I really had any business going back even then, but I figured I had to do something...make some kind of move.  And so I worked, but I never found my place again.  I felt like everyone was playing from a different sheet of music than I was.  I had lost my stride.  I lost my spark...I lost a part of my heart. 

There were so many days that I would just break down, right there at my desk.  I'd face the wall in hopes that no one would notice, but I'm sure people did.  I'm sure they could even hear me sometimes.  Grief is so heavy, and I struggled to carry it while pretending to be okay and able to handle the responsibilities of my job.  Granted, the people I worked with and for were gracious and sweet...but it was still difficult for me.

Then we got pregnant with little Addalee.  That was a bit of a shock...to everyone!  Having her in our lives is an absolute blessing straight from God, I never want to discount that.  But, the stress of a new pregnancy and trying to work...I was really struggling.  I couldn't handle anything!  I got choked up in meetings!!!  It was not fun.  Eventually, my pelvic condition landed me working from home most days, and that helped me out tremendously.  But, the more we thought about the future, and tried to envision being parents to a baby at home with us, we realized how much it meant to us for me to stay home.  So, they prayer and considerations began.  There were days where I was gung-ho, and days that I was NEVER leaving my job...the financial security was a very big deal!  Finally, I felt the gentle guidance of the Lord telling me that I needed to leave.  And while I have peace about it, it's still so scary!  I mean, leaving a job in this economy! 

If I'm honest, part of my fear is that I'm somehow being presumptuous about Addalee's safe (and live) arrival.  It's kind of like counting your chickens before they hatch.  I realize that this probably makes me sound like a nutjob, and that's fine by me.  I also feel that way about buying diapers, hanging her initials on the wall above her crib (the one bought and set up for her big sister, Caroline).  I feel like I should wait for the other shoe to drop even as Addalee kicks me (HARD) as I type this.  I feel like I shouldn't get too excited.  I shouldn't feel too comfortable.  I should expect the worst and be pleasantly surprised (if) when it doesn't happen.  As a side note, I realize how crazy this sounds...I'm just being completely honest here.  I know that it's not "normal" to feel this way about the upcoming (only 7 more weeks!) birth of your child.  I truly do have hope, but I'm scared to get comfortable in it.

I wish I could face the world and say that I feel great, all the time about this pregnancy and its outcome.  I wish I could say that my prayers for Addalee's arrival didn't include the word "alive" or that I don't ask God to give Caroline the message that we love her and miss her. But, I simply cannot.  You see, losing Caroline has shaken me...to my very core.  This whole thing has been a complete life changer.  It has touched each area of my life in one way or another.  Caroline affected me, and I'm so thankful for her.  But the loss affected me too...and it left me timid, afraid...broken.  Yes, I'm functioning.  Yes, I am blessed.  I realize this, and do not want to seem ungrateful.  But, there will always be a part of me missing.

I was talking to Addie in my belly the other day, and absent-mindedly called her Caroline.  I don't know why I'm sharing this, because it's somehow embarrassing to me.  I guess I shouldn't be embarrassed because people with more than one living child get the names messed up occasionally...heck, I've even called my husband by the dog's name before!!! :)  But I felt bad when I made this slip up.  I felt more than bad.  I felt guilty to each of the girls for different reasons.  It felt like a betrayal to each of them.

I've been kind of hiding out because of all that's been going on in life.  As I said, I don't handle stress very well these days, and it's kind of making me clam up - I know you can't tell by reading this rambling post...but it feels good to get some of this out there!  But it's been 9 months now since we lost Caroline.  And it's gotten easier to carry the grief, but it's still noticeably there, each and every day.  I miss that girl.  I miss her soft cheeks.  I miss her long fingers.  I miss her.  We had a whole life planned with her, and now I have a whole life planned to remember her.  I'm so excited that I do get to see her again...I can't imagine living without that sweet promise.  Thank you, Lord!

So, little Caroline, we still think of you all the time.  Me and your Daddy talk about you each and every day.  I even still sleep with that little pink and white blanket of yours.  You're always and forever our sweet girl.  And we sure do miss you!

8 Months

It's been 8 months since we held our little Caroline.  I've been fortunate enough to be able to push a lot of these thoughts to the back of my mind instead of focusing on them and getting down in the dumps.  This strategy worked fairly well for me...until this week.  This week, my "keep yourself so busy you can't be bothered with grief" strategy has failed!  I don't mean to be overly dramatic, it's not like I've hit rock bottom or anything, but I have had a rough few days.

As we're getting closer to the third trimester (Friday!) with Addalee, I'm reminded of my pregnancy with Caroline.  I'm reminded how much I miss her, how much I want HER...and how much I want her sister to be here safely and healthily.  I'm also a little torn on how to prepare for the arrival of Caroline's little sister.  With Caroline, I bought packs of diapers (can't bring myself to do that this time), I washed and folded all of her things (haven't been able to think of that this time), I worked in her room (don't really need to do much since it's all set up from before)...it's just a strange feeling, a strange place to be, uncomfortable.

I've been keeping a weekly blog of my pregnancy with Addalee (side note: it's private, but if you'd like to follow along, just comment and leave me your email address).  I like to include a weekly size comparison picture, you know the rutabaga or English hot house cucumber comparison.  So, each week, I Google my week and the comparison picture.  This week, I happened to stumble upon another little pregnancy blog.  It was cute and happy and was written much like my blog, like how I write, like how I think.  Then I noticed the dates...with a sick stomach and sweaty hands, I kept looking.  I knew I shouldn't. I  knew I should have stopped.  But that morbid curiosity just drew me in.  This lady's little girl was delivered the day after Caroline.  She is a beautiful little girl, her parents' first child, loved immeasurably.  They have regularly posted pictures of their sweet little girl, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Sunday, Tuesday...you get the idea.  The ones that got me the most were Halloween, and the most recent ones.  Caroline's Daddy is a big kid - one of the things I love about him.  He loves Halloween, and so do I.  We bought this adorable little bat costume for Caroline and were so excited to answer the door to the trick-or-treaters with our little baby bat.  We had plans for Halloween.  She was part of them.  We could SEE her in that costume.  But that wasn't to be.  Then I saw this couple's precious little girl sitting up, widely and toothlessly grinning, on a swimming pool step.  Then it really struck me, Caroline should be grinning, and sitting up and having a real personality and being a real child.  I've held on to the image of her as a teeny tiny baby, and distanced myself from the thoughts of her as an actual BABY.  Part of this was a survival mechanism, I'm sure...but upon realizing what I have been doing, I am crushed.  Crushed because that mechanism is gone now, and crushed because I feel like I may have cheated Caroline somehow.

I don't want to seem all gloom and doom, or like Debbie Downer (bwwaahh bwaahhh), so I need to share that things are actually going well for us.  As I said before, we are this.close to the start of the third trimester, and I'm overjoyed about this.  Addalee is an active girl, who loves to kick her Mommy and even share some private kicks with her Daddy while Mommy is sleeping!  She has her own personality, different from her big sister, and we wouldn't have it any other way.  Addalee also seems to have quite the resemblance to her sister, their ultrasounds are almost identical!  We're praying, and ask that you do too, for a little girl, alive and healthy, to be in our arms in approximately 10 weeks.

6 Months

This is a day that I don’t think I even knew I was dreading.  I hadn’t really given this new anniversary much thought.  Then suddenly, it hit me.  6 months.  Six months.  About 180 days.  It’s hard enough to pass an anniversary; one thing that’s kind of made it slightly more difficult for me is that this one just happens to be the date and the day.  Caroline passed away late in the evening of October 19^th, a Tuesday.  We rushed to the hospital, they confirmed our worst nightmares, and induced me early on Wednesday, October 20.  I labored through the day, and had her at 7:27 pm.  I met my beautiful little girl, and I was never more in love, never more proud, never more broken.  And that brokenness has stayed around.  I am still broken.  I am still breaking. 

As I’m sure it happens with anyone else who has ever experienced a loss, it comes in waves.  There are good days and bad days.  There are happier days and sadder days.  And, I’ll be honest; I haven’t learned how to ride the waves very efficiently yet.  I’m still wiped out on the sad days.  And my happy days have shades of sadness to them.  But at least there are happy days.  When I had to say goodbye to that precious girl, I truly didn’t believe that there could be any happiness – ever again. 

We are learning to live again.  I think this is going to be a process that takes us a very long time.  But we’re so hopeful for the future.  Despite losing our sweet girl, we are incredibly blessed.  I’m so excited to be carrying Caroline’s little sister in my big ol’ belly as I type.  I’m starting to feel this little lady kick and move, and I feel like each flutter is a blessing from God.  I also feel like our baby Caroline is a little guardian angel watching her little sister.  So, in some small ways, Caroline is here with us still.

Sweet Girl,

You can't even dream how much I love you and how much I miss you.  My heart aches as I think of continuing life without you here.  Our family is not going to be whole until we're all up there in Heaven with you.  We know that you're up there being loved on by your grandfathers, your big cousin Brian, don't let him aggravate you too much!  We are so proud of you and all that your little life has meant to so many people.

Love you with my whole heart,

Momma