Tuesday, June 20, 2017
Thank You
The Gent and I wrote lots and lots of heartfelt thank you notes this weekend. We had tried to keep a list of thoughtful gifts and meals and donations and help with our children and so many other things . . . but I know we have forgotten some. If that was you, I'm sorry! We appreciate the love our friends and family have showered over us these past several months. Thank you for all your cards, texts, phone calls, emails, and all the other ways you have helped and encouraged and prayed. We love you and words really can't express our thankfulness for you!
Friday, June 16, 2017
Precious Photos
Here are some precious photos of David that our sweet photographer from Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep took for us. I will have many more photos to post as time passes, but I wanted to start with these. Hope you enjoy these pictures of our beloved David.
Tuesday, June 13, 2017
ReMoved
I have a lot of pictures to sort through and post and I'll get to those soon. Lately I keep thinking of this video, though, and I wanted to share it today. Foster care is messy and broken and there may not be a happily ever after. But the children and families you touch through it are all made in God's image and they are infinitely valuable. Jesus said whatever you do for the least of these, you do for Me. The impact you can have on a child and their hurting family may never be seen in this life, but to paraphrase C.S. Lewis, you've never met just a person, but an eternal soul.
Link to the ReMoved film is here.
Link to the ReMoved film is here.
Tuesday, June 6, 2017
To the Beach
While the Gent was off work we spent a few days at the beach. It was a fun and restorative family time. Thankful for a friend providing us with a place to stay!
Friday, June 2, 2017
One Month
Trite but true…it is hard to believe it has been one month since we held our beloved David in our arms. It seems a lifetime ago, and yet just yesterday. Some days it is hard to believe it happened at all. Maybe it was all a bittersweet dream, that little life I carried for 9+ months, the baby boy we loved, knowing we would never get to keep him in this temporal world. But it was real. David is real and precious and held and known and loved--by me, his mama always--and by all our dear family and by our Father now.
My heart aches for heaven. How it will be when I see David again, I don’t know. I wonder sometimes, will I see David the way I see my children now? For example, when I look at Annie I see her as the tiny baby who taught me to be a mother, and the hesitant toddler, and the stubborn preschooler, and the determined little girl she is now. Maybe when I see David again, it will be something like that? I don’t really need to know. The promise that I will see David again is enough. If our Lord has given us such beauties and wonders and pleasures in this earthly life, and they are only poor imitations of the true thing, the real thing, the perfect thing—what wonders must await us in the abundant life of heaven.
Everyone keeps asking us how we are doing. I don’t really know how to answer that. Usually I just say we are okay. And we are. We are alive, we are well-fed, we have many happy moments each day. We have buried our baby, our hearts hurt, our arms are empty. In the last month, we’ve had a plumber out five times to fix a clogged drain (I think we finally found the right fix). He worked on the shower drain while the Gent and I sat in the living room with our pastor and planned David’s funeral. The dryer died and we had to buy a new one. The exterminator has been handling a mouse problem in our kitchen. EEEEEEEWW. We have exciting plans for building our new house. We sleep through the night because there is no newborn to wake us up. That’s how we are. The grief is not debilitating, our children need us, we have work to do. In some ways we have been grieving since almost the beginning of David’s pregnancy. His diagnosis in the early weeks when we were still very worried about a miscarriage tempered our expectations all along. But it still hurts and it is still hard and his loss is very real and it will always be there.
Our children are stairsteps, all about two years apart. Nora is two and a half and there is no baby after her in our family pictures. David will always be the missing stairstep, his presence hovering around the edges of the family pictures. Unknowing strangers say hurtful things, saying my family is full or where’s the next one or some other seemingly innocuous remark. I want to tell them there is another little boy, but he’s not here, I didn’t get the chance to mother him fully. My family is not full and I have more energy to spare and more love to give but he’s not here.
Some days I wish we still wore mourning clothes and I didn’t have to keep biting my tongue or giving explanations that just making everyone sad. I don’t want to have to tell the checkout lady at the grocery store that I’m not pregnant, I’m postpartum but I don’t have a baby to show for it. I don’t want to have to make the dental hygienist feel awkward because she assumed I was expecting when Jacob told her he had a baby brother but there was no baby with us that she could see. Thank goodness I should be cleared to exercise next week and I can get back in shape. I feel pressured to do it quickly, so I can avoid these conversations. But I’ll never forget I had a baby, that I carried him and birthed him and loved him. That he changed my heart as all of my children have done in some way or another.
I was out shopping recently and I found this two-inch square cube. It sits on my desk now. These words are etched on it: “Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good. Psalm 107:1.” And He is. So I give thanks.
My heart aches for heaven. How it will be when I see David again, I don’t know. I wonder sometimes, will I see David the way I see my children now? For example, when I look at Annie I see her as the tiny baby who taught me to be a mother, and the hesitant toddler, and the stubborn preschooler, and the determined little girl she is now. Maybe when I see David again, it will be something like that? I don’t really need to know. The promise that I will see David again is enough. If our Lord has given us such beauties and wonders and pleasures in this earthly life, and they are only poor imitations of the true thing, the real thing, the perfect thing—what wonders must await us in the abundant life of heaven.
Everyone keeps asking us how we are doing. I don’t really know how to answer that. Usually I just say we are okay. And we are. We are alive, we are well-fed, we have many happy moments each day. We have buried our baby, our hearts hurt, our arms are empty. In the last month, we’ve had a plumber out five times to fix a clogged drain (I think we finally found the right fix). He worked on the shower drain while the Gent and I sat in the living room with our pastor and planned David’s funeral. The dryer died and we had to buy a new one. The exterminator has been handling a mouse problem in our kitchen. EEEEEEEWW. We have exciting plans for building our new house. We sleep through the night because there is no newborn to wake us up. That’s how we are. The grief is not debilitating, our children need us, we have work to do. In some ways we have been grieving since almost the beginning of David’s pregnancy. His diagnosis in the early weeks when we were still very worried about a miscarriage tempered our expectations all along. But it still hurts and it is still hard and his loss is very real and it will always be there.
Our children are stairsteps, all about two years apart. Nora is two and a half and there is no baby after her in our family pictures. David will always be the missing stairstep, his presence hovering around the edges of the family pictures. Unknowing strangers say hurtful things, saying my family is full or where’s the next one or some other seemingly innocuous remark. I want to tell them there is another little boy, but he’s not here, I didn’t get the chance to mother him fully. My family is not full and I have more energy to spare and more love to give but he’s not here.
Some days I wish we still wore mourning clothes and I didn’t have to keep biting my tongue or giving explanations that just making everyone sad. I don’t want to have to tell the checkout lady at the grocery store that I’m not pregnant, I’m postpartum but I don’t have a baby to show for it. I don’t want to have to make the dental hygienist feel awkward because she assumed I was expecting when Jacob told her he had a baby brother but there was no baby with us that she could see. Thank goodness I should be cleared to exercise next week and I can get back in shape. I feel pressured to do it quickly, so I can avoid these conversations. But I’ll never forget I had a baby, that I carried him and birthed him and loved him. That he changed my heart as all of my children have done in some way or another.
I was out shopping recently and I found this two-inch square cube. It sits on my desk now. These words are etched on it: “Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good. Psalm 107:1.” And He is. So I give thanks.
Tuesday, May 30, 2017
Sophie turns FOUR!
My sweet Sophie Beth turned four yesterday. We celebrated in the usual family style--breakfast, presents from Mama and Daddy, play with new presents, out to lunch at the restaurant of her choice (Chick fil a, where we were joined by Honey, Poppa, and Nana), and a birthday treat at dinner. In between she received phone calls and cards and even a balloon delivery from NeNe, Uncle Mike, and cousin Mac. Happy birthday, Sophie!
This has been such a fun year with you. You loved your first year of ballet and doing "easy school" (as you call preschool) with Mama. You want to be one of the big kids but you also love to play with Nora. You have a sweet relationship with each of your siblings and I love to watch you all interact together. You are still shy sometimes, and are my most cautious child--but that doesn't mean much in our family of crazy kiddos. ;) You can be fearless, too. Whenever I hear the phrase "she may be small but she is fierce" I think of you! I love you, precious daughter of mine!
A tradition in our family: birthday breakfast (usually made by Daddy), served on the special plate!
Annie wanted to buy her a present with her own money. She settled on a Frozen sticker book, which Sophie adores.
her present from Mama and Daddy: a princess doll castle (and books, of course!)
and this is the look you get when you ask for a smile
petit fours
This has been such a fun year with you. You loved your first year of ballet and doing "easy school" (as you call preschool) with Mama. You want to be one of the big kids but you also love to play with Nora. You have a sweet relationship with each of your siblings and I love to watch you all interact together. You are still shy sometimes, and are my most cautious child--but that doesn't mean much in our family of crazy kiddos. ;) You can be fearless, too. Whenever I hear the phrase "she may be small but she is fierce" I think of you! I love you, precious daughter of mine!
A tradition in our family: birthday breakfast (usually made by Daddy), served on the special plate!
Annie wanted to buy her a present with her own money. She settled on a Frozen sticker book, which Sophie adores.
and this is the look you get when you ask for a smile
petit fours
Tuesday, May 23, 2017
The Funeral
Since we first heard David’s diagnosis at nine weeks, this was the day we had dreaded most of all. The day we would have to let go of David’s earthly body.
We decided to have a family-only graveside service. We knew our friends and co-workers and neighbors would come to support us and celebrate David, but it just seemed more fitting to limit this particular time to family. It was easier for us, and especially for our children, to only have people they knew very well at the service. We had an informal visitation at the funeral home first. David’s siblings all wanted to see him. They had drawn pictures and written cards for him, and we tucked those in the side of his casket. His bonnet was on backwards so I had to have that turned around. Then other family members came to see him. The children were so proud to show off their baby brother. They have been such an encouragement to us throughout our journey with David. They can’t imagine anything better than him going to heaven with Jesus, and their childlike faith is a treasure to us.
Here’s an email I got from Papa Gene (Jacob’s great-grandfather) after the service: “In the stressful beauty of these days with you and our David, I enjoyed a surprise Christian mountain top experience yesterday. When we first walked into the lobby of the funeral home, the room was filled to capacity with David’s family. But all by himself Jacob spotted me, immediately ran over to me, took my hand and told me he wanted me to see David with him. Held my hand and led me straight to see little David in a most beautiful way. He stood by me in solemn reverence as we both appreciated and loved his baby brother David. It spoke volumes about this young child man and your parenting. Thank you and please thank Jacob for me.”
We buried David in a beautiful christening gown and sweet little booties that were given by a local baby boutique. On his head he wore a little fitted cap that was made just for him by a friend of Honey’s, and then over that a handkerchief bonnet made by his great-grandma, Mama Rita. He was wrapped in one of the many beautiful crocheted and knitted blankets we received (we ended up with five and that was perfect—one to bury with David, and one to give to each of our other children in memory of their brother), and we tucked in a blue baby Bible and his little white lamb lovey that the children had been taking turns sleeping with for the past several months. His casket was made by Trappist monks in Iowa—handcrafted from oak and prayed over as it was being built. (link here—the monks have a holy ministry through their casket building and we were thankful for this beautiful cradle for David’s body to rest in).
We left the funeral home and went to the graveside. We had requested David’s casket be closed before the service, and we laid a bouquet of white roses on his casket. They were the only flowers I wanted. Our pastor began the service, and then the Gent read Revelation 21:1-5 over David. Our pastor reminded us of God’s promises and faithfulness and that we will be reunited with David. How thankful we are that this is not the end. Then we listened to a recording of David’s great-great grandfather (and namesake) singing “His Eye is on the Sparrow.” (And next to my chair, Sophie danced her little recital dance to it.) The music was perfect and made the service very personal to us. We all recited the Lord’s Prayer together, and then our pastor gave the closing prayer. Our extended family left and the Gent and kids and I stood by the casket for a few moments. I put my hand over David and released his earthly body to the ground, and his soul to heaven. It may have been the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I am so thankful for David’s tiny life, and for the extra days as he waited in the womb past his due date. What precious time we had together as he grew inside me. As his name means, he is my beloved son. May his memory continue to bring a reminder of the true shalom peace that comes from our Lord Jesus Christ.
We decided to have a family-only graveside service. We knew our friends and co-workers and neighbors would come to support us and celebrate David, but it just seemed more fitting to limit this particular time to family. It was easier for us, and especially for our children, to only have people they knew very well at the service. We had an informal visitation at the funeral home first. David’s siblings all wanted to see him. They had drawn pictures and written cards for him, and we tucked those in the side of his casket. His bonnet was on backwards so I had to have that turned around. Then other family members came to see him. The children were so proud to show off their baby brother. They have been such an encouragement to us throughout our journey with David. They can’t imagine anything better than him going to heaven with Jesus, and their childlike faith is a treasure to us.
Here’s an email I got from Papa Gene (Jacob’s great-grandfather) after the service: “In the stressful beauty of these days with you and our David, I enjoyed a surprise Christian mountain top experience yesterday. When we first walked into the lobby of the funeral home, the room was filled to capacity with David’s family. But all by himself Jacob spotted me, immediately ran over to me, took my hand and told me he wanted me to see David with him. Held my hand and led me straight to see little David in a most beautiful way. He stood by me in solemn reverence as we both appreciated and loved his baby brother David. It spoke volumes about this young child man and your parenting. Thank you and please thank Jacob for me.”
We buried David in a beautiful christening gown and sweet little booties that were given by a local baby boutique. On his head he wore a little fitted cap that was made just for him by a friend of Honey’s, and then over that a handkerchief bonnet made by his great-grandma, Mama Rita. He was wrapped in one of the many beautiful crocheted and knitted blankets we received (we ended up with five and that was perfect—one to bury with David, and one to give to each of our other children in memory of their brother), and we tucked in a blue baby Bible and his little white lamb lovey that the children had been taking turns sleeping with for the past several months. His casket was made by Trappist monks in Iowa—handcrafted from oak and prayed over as it was being built. (link here—the monks have a holy ministry through their casket building and we were thankful for this beautiful cradle for David’s body to rest in).
We left the funeral home and went to the graveside. We had requested David’s casket be closed before the service, and we laid a bouquet of white roses on his casket. They were the only flowers I wanted. Our pastor began the service, and then the Gent read Revelation 21:1-5 over David. Our pastor reminded us of God’s promises and faithfulness and that we will be reunited with David. How thankful we are that this is not the end. Then we listened to a recording of David’s great-great grandfather (and namesake) singing “His Eye is on the Sparrow.” (And next to my chair, Sophie danced her little recital dance to it.) The music was perfect and made the service very personal to us. We all recited the Lord’s Prayer together, and then our pastor gave the closing prayer. Our extended family left and the Gent and kids and I stood by the casket for a few moments. I put my hand over David and released his earthly body to the ground, and his soul to heaven. It may have been the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I am so thankful for David’s tiny life, and for the extra days as he waited in the womb past his due date. What precious time we had together as he grew inside me. As his name means, he is my beloved son. May his memory continue to bring a reminder of the true shalom peace that comes from our Lord Jesus Christ.
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