Tag: child loss

Mary, did you know? I didn’t…

This was our third Christmas without Paxton. When I woke up Thursday morning, I felt a heaviness, which is not abnormal…but this year my mind went immediately to Mary.

I was thinking about the song “Mary, Did You Know?”. If you’re not familiar with it, the song is asking Mary if she knew all of the things Jesus would do and miracles He would perform. When the angel, Gabriel, appeared to Mary to tell her she would bear a son, he said:

“…Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.  And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus.  He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. And the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” (Luke 1:30-33 ESV)

Just the appearance of the angel and his announcement that she would bear a son told Mary her baby boy would be special. While she may not have known Jesus would walk on water or heal the blind, she did know that the baby she carried was the fulfillment of God’s promises to save His people. What I’ve been “pondering in my heart” the past few days is this…did she know he would die?

I don’t think she did…especially as she held him in her arms after he was first born.  She may have known he would suffer, but I don’t think his death ever crossed her mind.  A dear friend explains things this way.  We all expect to bury our parents.  We also say “until death do us part” when we get married, knowing one of us will have to bury the other.  What we never do is gaze into our children’s eyes and picture them dying before us. I know I never did.  That is the crushing weight of child loss.  In fact, I remember talking about child loss years ago and stating I don’t think I could survive it.  That same dear friend, who has been missing her sweet Connor for almost 17 years now, also says “you don’t know what you don’t know”.

Oh how I wish I didn’t know the things I do.  I would give anything to be able to kiss Paxton’s face one more time…to have him climb in bed with me in the middle of the night, grab my head and press his cheek to mine.  Never once did I think I’d be walking this journey.  Just like Mary, I didn’t know.  

What I do know is because Mary held Jesus, I will get to hold Paxton again.  Because Mary said “I am the Lord’s servant…may your word to me be fulfilled” (Luke 1:38 NIV), I will get to worship with Paxton in heaven.  And because Mary watched her son die, my son gets to live and I’ll spend eternity with him.

Mary, did you know

how much it would hurt

to see your baby suffer

Mary, did you know

the pain you would feel

as a grieving mother

did you know 

that your baby boy

would hang upon a cross

did you know

that he would give his life

did you understand the cost

God, I didn’t know 

that my baby boy

would walk through so much suffering

God, I didn’t know

that my baby boy

would see heaven before me

what I know

is that You are good

and Your promises are true

and I know a day is coming 

when all will be made new

my eyes can’t see

they’re blind with tears

my heart’s broken in two

I’m on my knees

Jesus be near

please help me trust You

God, I didn’t know

that my story

would be written this way

God, I didn’t know

when I left that night

it would be his last day

what I know

is You’re still good

when I don’t understand

though my aching arms are empty

my baby boy

is with the Great I am

the horizon…

When I was 19 weeks pregnant with our oldest son, Chad and I went on a cruise. After we boarded, we were told we’d be leaving later than scheduled due to weather. We toured the ship, completed our muster drill and had dinner. When we went to bed, we were still in the Gulf of Mexico enjoying smooth waters.

When we woke up the next morning, we were in the Atlantic and our smooth sailing was over. We were going “around” Hurricane Rita, but even 250 miles away she was causing some crazy waves. We made our way to the dining area, but I was so sick I could barely make it to the closest bathroom. My only thought was to head back to our room, get in bed and sleep until the cruise was over, but I had no idea how that would happen. Then someone told me to focus on the horizon…they said even when the waves are rough and the ship is rolling, the horizon never moves. Surprisingly, it worked. Focusing on the horizon did not calm the ocean or make the ship stop rocking, but it brought me peace and settled me in the middle of the hard.

I’ve often used waves and the ocean as a way to describe my grief. I think the memory of that cruise is a perfect way to describe the journey we’ve been on the past three years.

When Paxton died, it was like we had just boarded the ship. The seas seemed calm (manageable) as we completed the initial “tour and drills” of child loss…meeting with the funeral director, choosing a casket and planning Paxton’s visitation and memorial service.

However, the day after all of that was over, I woke up to the roughest seas I’ve ever faced. We weren’t close to a hurricane, we were right in the middle of it. I was being tossed about. I was sick (both physically and emotionally) and all I could think about was getting back in bed and sleeping until it was over, but I had no idea how that would happen.

Unfortunately, this journey will never be over. But, like the cruise, if I focus on Jesus, I can find peace, joy and comfort during the pain. There are still rough waters…some days are more turbulent than others. Focusing on the horizon doesn’t take the grief or pain away. It does remind me that the one who created the horizon also created the waves and promised to hold me through them.

When Paxton was in the hospital, I would stay with him during the day and Chad would stay with him at night. Every morning on my way there, I would listen to worship music. One morning, the song that resonated with me was “Oceans” by Hillsong. Especially the part that says:

And I will call upon Your Name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

Hours later, a tech came in to perform an EKG. Paxton was asleep and lights were low so we didn’t talk much. Before he started putting the leads on Paxton, he turned some music on his phone. As he laid his phone down “Oceans” started playing. What a God kiss to know that it was no coincidence that a tech I had never seen before would feel led to not only play worship music, but would also choose that song.

I love being by the ocean. I marvel at its vastness and the sound of the waves brings peace. But, I can see the storm coming. It’s been almost three years since we began this fight. It’s been 1,041 days since I last kissed my sweet boy’s face. The hurricane is just as strong as it was that first day. I miss Paxton more every day and the pain has not gone away.

Just as I learned to focus on the horizon to keep myself steady on that cruise, I’m begging for help from the horizon maker to help me focus on Him and keep me from going under whenever the waves come. I’m pleading for Him to hold my head above water because I can’t do it in my own strength. The waves are still there. The ship still rocks. And sometimes I take my eyes off the only one who can get me through. But the most beautiful and comforting thing of all is He never moves, no matter where I look or what I do.

the sea is churning

a storm is near

I hear the thunder

I feel the waves

the weight of grief

through holidays

and heaviness 

of coming dates

the pain of missing you

never fades

everything around me shakes

I cast my gaze

And fix my eyes

on my horizon

Jesus Christ

even in the the darkest nights

through the deepest water

and fiercest fight

He never moves

He’s by my side

“hollow”een

Tonight, a lot of moms I know will be spending time with their kids as they trick or treat or attend Halloween parties.  I’ll be alone.

Tonight, a lot of moms I know will be handing out candy, delighted by cute kids and crazy costumes.  My front porch light will be off.

For a lot of people, tonight will be one of enjoyment, sugar overload and memory making. For me, tonight will be another night of grief, sadness overload and memories missed.

Chad is out of town and has been worried that tonight will be hard for me.  He was right. This is a hard night for me.  But sometimes, having a hard night can be a good thing.

Sometimes, I need to sit in the sorrow.

Sometimes, I need to hurt in the hard.

Sometimes, I need to pause in the pain.

Sometimes, I need to taste the tears.

And sometimes, I need to give in to the gravity of the loss of my precious boy.

My grief is no longer overwhelming on a daily basis.  I find myself able to catch my breath and find joy between the waves. But I am not better…I am different. I am not over it…I am learning how to carry it. 

I wish the biggest hurdle I faced tonight was keeping Paxton from eating too much candy. Instead, I’m facing another Holloween  without him. It’s hollow because when Paxton was here, he brought the hype and hilarity to every Halloween. Now it’s just another slow, silent day.

I wrote “I only miss you” the first Halloween without Paxton. It seemed perfect to share again because I am missing him like crazy. Enjoy your kids tonight…no matter how big they are. And maybe let them have an extra piece of candy in honor of Pax. 

I only miss you

when the sun rises

when I open my eyes

when there are tears to dry

when I cannot cry

I only miss you

when the seasons change

when the sunlight fades

on a cloudy day

when it rains

I only  miss you

when they sky is blue

when the moon is full, crescent or new

when the grass is wet with dew

any time I think of you

I only miss you

in my dreams

when I can’ t sleep

when I’m happy

when the pain is deep

I only miss you

when I breathe

I only miss you

when my heart beats

our nest is empty…

This past Monday we moved our son, Owen, to college for his junior year. Friday we moved our daughter, Jenna, to college to begin her freshman year. Just like that, our nest is empty. Six years before it was supposed to be. The rooms in our house will never be lived in the same way again. One room in our house will never be lived in again at all.

In September 2003, I joined a moms’ Bible study. I had just suffered my 4th miscarriage in under a year and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to carry a pregnancy past eight weeks.

The first week of Bible study, our leader brought a bird’s nest. Inside the nest were two empty eggs and one that had never hatched. She talked about how motherhood can look so many different ways. It made an impact on me because my “nest” to that point had four eggs that would never be baby birds.

When Bible study ended that next May, I was 7 months pregnant with Owen. I remember on the last day sharing how much that nest analogy meant to me. When I started that year, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be a mom. What I realized is that I was already a mom, my nest just looked different than I had hoped and dreamed.

A lot of times motherhood has been different than I imagined. Sometimes it has been better and sometimes it has been worse. I’ve made a lot of mistakes and have needed to grow just as much as my children, if not more.

I always knew being a mom would be hard. I knew that when I brought them home I would one day have to let them go. I never thought letting them go would be easy, but I never dreamed (or considered the nightmare) one of them would never fly.

My nest has never been perfect. I never expected it to be. But I never thought it would be this hard. I never dreamed it would be empty at this point. And I NEVER imagined my baby would be gone forever.

I was supposed to protect them. It was my job to cherish them, feed them and teach them. It was my job to launch them. But, the truth is they were never mine to begin with. God blessed me with them, but ultimately they are His. And even thought Paxton never got to fly, he is now in the safest, most peaceful home he will ever have. As long as the days seem without him, I’m one day closer to being with him for eternity.

the nest

built with care

piece by piece

ready to

love

protect

nurture

now sits empty

I’m thankful for

the ones that have flown

while aching for

the one not grown

heart breaking

even thought I know

he was never really my own

the Creator who cares for sparrows

and lilies in the field

embraced my broken, baby bird

and took him home

completely healed

I was supposed to live

the rest of my life with him

instead

he got to live

the rest of his life with me

I’m so grateful for the hope of heaven

and promise of eternity

the three Ws…part 3

***the first two Ws are posted under writing my wrestling***

writhing…wrestling…WORSHIP

worship (noun)

to honor or show reverence for God

I’ve been a musician most of my life.  I started piano at a very young age, took classical lessons and theory for 13 years, and performed in multiple competitions and recitals.  I  sang my first solo at the age of 5 and have been a member of multiple choirs, ensembles and worship teams.  So, it was no surprise when I started pursuing a relationship with Jesus, I connected most deeply with Him through worship.

Since Paxton left, church, especially worship,  has been hard for me. Early on, it was difficult to just get out of bed. The few times I did go, I had to walk out because of baby dedications, a kids’ choir or just being overwhelmed with sorrow.  It took almost a year for me to return to church consistently.  Even then, I would find myself completely drained after service and I wasn’t sure why.

I finally realized why Sundays are the hardest days of the week for me…and the reasons tie into the first two Ws.  There is rarely a Sunday service that doesn’t involve writhing at some point, and every Sunday morning is a wrestling match for me.  There are no undercards, just the featured main event…a primetime bout between my flesh and my faith that repeats every week.

flesh – tears of sorrow that my son is not singing beside me

vs

faith – tears of joy that he is singing beside our Savior

flesh – questioning why God let this happen

vs

faith – remembering the ways God has shown me that He loves me and Paxton more than I could ever imagine

flesh – the struggle of standing in the place where Paxton’s memorial service was held

vs

faith – the sweetness of standing in the place and with the people that have been the hands and feet of Jesus to us

flesh – not feeling that the words being sung are true

vs

faith – trusting that God is good even when it feels like He isn’t

flesh – the hard of living on a broken Earth

vs

faith – the hope of living in eternity

While I have been able to start going to church again on a regular basis, it is still a struggle. I’ve always loved to sing and worship is the way I connect most deeply with God. While I believe every word of the songs, sometimes it still hurts too much to sing them.  I know you can worship through more ways than music…you can worship with your giving and your time.  But, my worship has become so much more.  Sometimes it’s singing and sometimes it’s silence.  Sometimes it’s beautiful and sometimes it’s broken.  Sometimes it’s making it to church and sometimes it’s making it out of bed. Worship is bringing whatever you have, even if it’s almost nothing, to the foot of the cross.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

how do I worship 

when my heart is breaking

how do I dance when my soul is aching

how do I praise 

when I feel You’ve forsaken me

how do I trust when everything is shaken

how do I rest when my world was taken

how do I follow when I can barely make myself stand

I’ll worship in silence

when I can’t sing the words

when I don’t have the strength

to make my voice heard

I’ll worship with singing

even if it’s in a minor key

a broken melody

the only thing I have to bring

I’ll worship through lament

by bringing you my grief

and trusting that my King

is with me in my suffering

even when I don’t feel it I’ll

dance in the darkness

rejoice in the rain

trust in the trials

praise in the pain

worship in the waiting

until I see my son again 

sadness

December 11, 2022 was the last “normal” night in our family’s life. It’s surreal that it has been two years since our lives imploded. It’s excruciating that it’s been two years since Paxton’s accident. Last year, reaching all of the first milestones was hard. This year is hard too, but this year I’m overwhelmingly sad.

Since Paxton left, it’s been comforting for me to look at pictures and watch videos of my boy. Recently, that has changed and been a new facet of my grief. When I think about the fun things we did as a family, like going to Great Wolf Lodge, Disney World or Cedar Point, the memory of our smiling, carefree family is now tainted. It’s like I’m watching a horror movie…I can see the tragedy approaching in slow motion and there is nothing I can do.

I wish I could go back and tell that family to soak it in. I wish I could wrap that family in a bubble, freeze them in time and keep them in the wonder, fun and excitement of water slides, roller coasters and togetherness. I wish I could protect them from the chaos and heartbreak that will gut them in a few short years. I wish I could have just one more moment with Paxton.

I’m sad…more sad than I’ve been in a long time. I miss my boy so much. I miss his silliness, his mischievousness and his smile. I miss holding his hand and being wrapped in one of his bear hugs. I miss the person I was. I miss the person he was. I miss the person he would now be.

Two years seems like a lifetime and an instant at the same time. Our grief is different, but it is no less deep, heavy or painful. God has given us sweet gifts the past few years…things that probably wouldn’t have happened if Paxton hadn’t left. We are grateful for those glimpses of joy, but we miss our sweet boy with everything in us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

like fog

heavy and dense

sadness is settling in

a familiar

but unwelcome friend

taking me back

to the day when

chaos

devastation and

heartbreak began

my arms ache for your hugs

my ears long for your laugh

my eyes drown with tears

how has it already been two years

since I’ve seen your smile

heard your voice

held your hand in mine

I wish I could

turn back time to have

just one more day

one more hour

one more moment

to feel your warmth

to hear your heart beating

in your chest

on more chance to say

I love you

you’re my best

sadness

like fog

heavy and dense

sadness is settling in

a familiar

but unwelcome friend

taking me back

to the day when

chaos

devastation and

heartbreak began

my arms ache for your hugs

my ears long for your laugh

my eyes drown with tears

how has it already been two years

since I’ve seen your smile

heard your voice

held your hand in mine

I wish I could

turn back time to have

just one more day

one more hour

one more moment

to feel your warmth

to hear your heart beating

in your chest

on more chance to say

I love you

you’re my best

the three Ws…part 2

writhing…WRESTLING…worship

wrestle (verb)

struggle with a difficulty or problem

During our six weeks in the hospital, there were so many moments God specifically showed us He was with us in the valley, and He was caring for us and Paxton. So when Paxton was suddenly gone without medical explanation, I had to wrestle with God and the way He wrote Paxton’s story.

I’m still wrestling. I have not lost my faith, but Paxton’s death has caused me to get in the ring with God and wrestle about what faith truly is. It has caused me to question if God really was there, if He still is, and if I truly believe He is good.

I feel sometimes, as Christians, we think having faith means everything is wrapped up in a tidy bow because God is sovereign. We feel like questioning God and wrestling with Him is wrong and diminishes our faith. We think because God is good, and works all things together for good, tragedy should be filtered through the lens of glorifying God which means we can’t question, sorrow, wail, rage or struggle with Him.

Chad said he realized the amount of sorrow we feel and experience does not correlate to our depth of faith or lack thereof. Wrestling with God does not mean I’m losing my faith. In fact, I would say my willingness to wrestle with Him actually strengthens my faith. You can only wrestle with someone if you are face to face with them.

So I wrestle…and I will wrestle with this the rest of my life. There are days when I’m wrestling as hard as I can and there are days when I can barely whisper “why?”. Paxton’s death did not diminish God’s goodness. Paxton’s death can and will be used for good, But, for me, Paxton’s death was not and never will be good.

Throughout the past 664 days, God has remained faithful. He has embraced me in my wrestling and continued to show me He was really there, He is with me now, and He IS good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have to tell myself

over and over again

this is hard

but You are good

my heart is broken

but You are good

I feel forsaken

but You are good

I don’t understand

but You are good

why did you let him die?

You are good

death is not good

but You ARE good

I believe You’re good

I know You’re good

so why does this feel so bad?

why is it so hard to trust?

why does this seem so unjust?

this doesn’t feel like love

my heart is wrestling

locked arm in arm

standing face to face

with grace

You accept my anger

and rage

never letting go

holding me in place

bearing the weight of my pain

capturing my tears in a bottle

wrapping me in your embrace

giving me strength to wait

writhing

are those tears

or raindrops on my cheeks?

it seems the sky is also crying

a silent scream

comes from within me

my body bent in half with grief

from pain there is no relief

sorrow brings me to my knees

Jesus!

the only word I can speak

my soul is writhing

the three Ws…part 1

WRITHING…wrestling…worship

writhe (verb)

  to twist from or as if from pain or struggling

  to suffer keenly

Writhing, wrestling and worship are three words that have been prominent in my grief journey. Some days, I only have to deal with one W. Other days, I finally make my way through the maze of one W, just to find myself faced with the maze of another. Then, there are days I feel like I’m on a ride at the fair. You know the rides where what you’re sitting in is spinning one way, but the ride itself is spinning another? Those days, the three Ws have me spinning so many different ways, I’m not sure I’ll ever stop.

I’ve experienced pain before. We’ve had hard in our lives, marriage and our parenting journey, but nothing has compared to the pain of the past 21 months. Actually, when it comes to child loss, I would say the word pain does not come close to naming what bereaved parents feel.  I think writhing is a much more accurate description.  When I think of writhing, I think of immense pain to which there is no relief.  That is child loss.  Immense pain, that is, at times, less intense, but will never be fully gone this side of heaven.

Today I am writhing because the next three months we are facing a gauntlet. There aren’t just two hard dates ahead, there are multiple dates that will bring joy, sorrow, or most likely a mixture of both. They all have the possibility of being a trigger. Starting with Halloween…my birthday…Thanksgiving…the anniversary of Paxton’s accident…Christmas…Jenna’s birthday…our wedding anniversary…Paxton’s heaven day…Chad’s birthday…and the date of Paxton’s memorial service.  I wish I could go to sleep Wednesday and wake up February 3, 2025.

Another bereaved parent, who has become a precious friend, used a scene from The Avengers to describe the life of a bereaved parent.  The Avengers are in New York and need Bruce Banner to become The Hulk.  Captain America tells Bruce it might be a good time to get angry.  Bruce replies “that’s my secret Captain…I’m always angry”.  I’m not always angry (although I do get angry…but that’s for another post), but I am always writhing.  There are times it’s not visible, but it’s always there, under the surface.  I twist and turn to try and find permanent relief from the pain of Paxton’s death, but it’s always there and always will be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

are those tears

or raindrops on my cheeks?

it seems the sky is also crying

a silent scream

comes from within me

my body bent in half with grief

from pain there is no relief

sorrow brings me to my knees

Jesus!

the only word I can speak

my soul is writhing