Sacred Ground…

Today was the day. I didn’t think it would come this soon.  I was getting ready for work when a call came through from the nurse that helped me deliver Madison.  She called to let me know that the room was available if there was any way that I could come to the hospital right then.  Thankfully I have a flexible job and I was able to get my things together and head right for the hospital.  I first called my husband to let him know that I could wait until Friday and he would be able to come with me…but our nurse would not be able to be there with us.  Or, I could go today by myself and she would be there.  He thought it was really important that I get to see her, so I went alone.  I could not hold back the tears and my heart raced with fear.

I met Debbie just outside the elevators on the second floor and we walked to the Labor & Delivery unit.  She asked if the spur of the moment was better than having too much time to think about it and I agreed.   We chatted small talk as we walked slowly toward room 225.  I just walked in…I have only stood outside that room since the day I left the hospital empty handed, without my baby girl.  Just a small green memory box in my hands…I wanted to throw that box.  That room has been a source of fear for me all these years…the subject of countless recurring nightmares, and the cause of some very difficult emotional and mental problems that led to deeper psychiatric problems.  Without going into detail, I didn’t even think of returning to that room EVER until her 16th birthday.  The timing has just not been right until now.

Until today…I walked in and set my things on the counter.  I turned and faced the bed and swiftly dissolved into tears.  This room…the very place where I lost my biggest dream, my biggest hope, where the very worst day of my life occurred. It was surreal to be there again.  I sobbed and could hardly catch my breath.  The door was closed and Debbie stood nearby in silence.  Then I just started talking.  We shared memories back and forth for the next 30 minutes.  I pointed around the room to various spots and remarked about what happened there.  The corner where they took her to weigh, bathe, and dress her.  The window spot where my Daddy carefully carried his 9th grandchild to sing “Jesus Loves Me” to her like he did every other grandchild.  The bathroom where I stood in the shower the morning of her birth, sobbing and staring at a very pregnant belly that now held a dead child.  The bed…that I was confined to most of my time there because of the meds taken to relieve the pain of back labor, and the pain of the damage to my body afterwards.  A chair in the same spot where I woke to find Debbie praying for me when everyone had left the room for a lunch break.

After our time of talking I asked if I could take some pictures.  Debbie said she would leave me alone to do that, and she left and closed the door.  There I was…left to face my biggest fear…alone.  I covered every inch of that room with my camera.  What memories are not forever etched on my mind, I will be able to see in pictures.  There have been changes…but it’s the same place.  The only place my sweet girl touched.  The place where I got to hold her and love on her for a few glorious hours.  I wept and laid my hands on the end of the bed…that spot where we laid her to undress her to her diaper and prepare her to leave us.  We counted toes and fingers, planted enough kisses to last a lifetime (is that even possible?), wrapped her in a new blanket and watched in utter despair and heartache as she was wheeled out of our room and we got our last glimpse of her.

When I was done taking pictures, Debbie came back in and one of the aids took a picture of us together.  It is the one I will share with you.  This angel of mercy who cared for me and prayed over me in my time of need.  This sister in Christ who didn’t normally work afternoons, and “just happened to be there” that day. This sweet lady who remembers that day like it was yesterday…just like I do.  This one who made this incredible visit possible for me.

Before we left the room, we both laid our hands on the end of the bed, and Debbie prayed over me again.  We made our way down the hall and visited the room where we got the news that our dear little girl had died.  I did not need to stay there long.  That room was somewhat “redeemed” to me when our little niece Athena was born there almost to the day eleven years after that horrible night. On our way back through Labor & Delivery I stopped to take a picture of the room number.

Then Debbie walked me down to the front entrance of the hospital, we shared one last hug, and I left.

I walked on sacred ground today.  A very special little girl darted in and out of our lives in that room and I will never forget.  We celebrate her and remember her pretty much alone these days…as a family.  There is no mention of her or remembrance of her to us by either side of our extended families.  It has hurt me deeply for years, but I am ready to let that go.  We are happy to have her all to ourselves and celebrate her life the way we want to.  I have a dear friend that makes jewelry and she made me a special pair of peridot earrings (August birthstone) to honor this year that Madison would have graduated, and her 18th birthday.  I put them on this morning before I even got the call to go to the hospital.  God knew…

I am so blessed to have had this opportunity today, and I’m so grateful to Debbie for making it possible for me.  It is not a scary place to me anymore.  I don’t think I’ll have those dreams anymore.  Today the sunbeams were shining through the windows, and it was a place of peace for this Mama.  It was a time for remembering the beautiful moments of that day and how God worked it all out for our good.  I’m so grateful…

Jesus Has Overcome…And the Grave Is Overwhelmed…

Today is the last day of the most difficult week of our year.  About this time 17 years ago, I was sitting in a fairly full sanctuary, before a tiny casket placed on the church’s communion table (I hate that table, and I’m glad it’s stuck out in the foyer and not used anymore).  The table was filled with flowers and one tiny pink teddy bear, and a book of pictures for people to look at.

We listened to songs sung by a dear friend.  We chose a lullaby called “O Father of Jesus” by Michael Card, because I had listened to his CD while I was pregnant with Madison.  Another friend, in the Christian music business, recommended Twila Paris’s song, “A Visitor From Heaven.” I listened to it in the hospital, and really liked it….if you can like a song about your child dying.

My dear, brave, grieving husband got up and gave a lovely tribute to all of the people who had helped us that week, and to his daughter whose body was in the box on the table in front of him.  I’m sure he only could have done that by the grace of God.  I sat down in the front row watching him, thinking my collapse was imminent through the whole service.  There is no way I could have gotten up there.

Our pastor spoke to us.  I tried with all of my heart to listen to his words and believe them.  At one point he spoke one sentence that broke my already devastated heart, and I checked out from that point on.

When the service was over, everyone was dismissed.  Andy and I sat in our seats staring at that casket, knowing the next few minutes would be the hardest of our lives.  When the sanctuary was empty, we rose and walked toward our little girl.  Our precious funeral director was there to assist us, and helped us each take a hold of Madison’s casket.  We were her pall bearers.  We walked slowly down the aisle with our sweet girl, and you could have heard a pin drop when we got to the foyer.  All of the chatter stopped, and people just stared at us.  I had trouble with the stairs, so Andy held Madison by himself until we got to the bottom.  We walked to the limo, and were able to place Madison’s casket between us on the seat for the ride to the cemetery.

It was a private interment service, that was all I could take.  We had invited family and a few of our closest friends to go with us.  We placed Madison’s tiny casket on top of a very tiny grave, and sat in the two chairs designated for us.  Our friends and family gathered around behind us. We heard final words of comfort and hope from our pastor, sang one final lullaby to our sweet girl, and then we sat there as everyone walked back to their cars.  I had purposely put copious amounts of lipstick on in the limo so that I could leave one final kiss on that casket before I left.  I had to practically get down on the ground to do that, and getting back up was extremely difficult.

As we got ready to walk away, I looked over and saw one of the funeral directors standing there.  He stood with his hands folded watching us.  I wondered why he stood there after we left.  Many years later, my dad (who now works for that funeral home) would tell me that the funeral director is required to stay there until the grave is sealed.  For some reason that was a comfort to me.  We were not allowed to stay…I think that would have been too much for me.  But he stayed with our girl until the deed was done.  I did send Andy back to grab the little pink teddy bear before we left, and it remains in my hope chest after all these years. Morgan occasionally will ask to sleep with it.

It was so very hard to walk away from her grave that day.  I held my husband’s hand, and I had the distinct feeling that something had changed inside of me, and I was never going to be the person I was before, again.

Later that evening, Andy and I went for a drive.  We drove around with the music from the funeral playing, and neither of us spoke a word.  We were numb.  For some reason we decided to go back to the cemetery, and that was not a good idea.  When I got out of the car, I was greeted with a mound of dirt strewn with already wilting flowers, the Mommy banner that had been on top of her casket, and it just looked so final, and like death to me.  I fell to my knees in the dirt, and sobbed the loudest and longest I had all week.  I had sincerely tried all week to keep it in for those around me, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer.  My daughter was DEAD, and her little body was in that ground.  I don’t know how I was able to get up…I sincerely wanted to crawl in with her.  I furiously stomped on all of the bugs that were crawling around, and wanted to sit there with my umbrella to protect her from the weather that would inevitably come.

We ended up back at my sister’s hotel room, surrounded by nieces and nephews who wanted to love on us and comfort us…they were so darling.  That is the same outfit I wore in the bassinet picture just a week before…only that smile was gone.  The happy was gone.  My heart was broken, and the baby bump that filled that outfit before was gone too.  What I felt in the cemetery that morning, was intensified here.  I don’t even know what we were watching on the tv.  I was numb and so very very sad.

17 years have gone by.  Nine of those years were spent in the worst hell of my life.  When we walked out of the cemetery that morning, my husband walked out clinging to the grace of God, and hope.  Me…not so much.  I lived in a numb sort of state for 3.5 years as God brought two more little ones safely into our lives.  Then when Morgan was about 6 months old, I had a breakdown that took me down a very very dark road….one that I would not come back from until the summer of 2005.  Nine years of horrible pain, anguish, fear, anxiety, and no trust or faith to speak of. The only link I had to God during those years was my music…which I continued to play in church.

Thankfully God did not leave me there.  He brought me out of that time (with the help of a wonderful, dear pastor, and another godly mentor and friend), and little by little has restored my faith, my trust, my belief, and has allowed me to rest in His sovereignty.  I have hope that we’ll see our girl again, and that will be a great day! The joy we once had in our marriage (this happened to us just after our first anniversary ) was restored, and God put us all back together as a family.  All four of us had gone through very traumatic times.  Now we are stronger than we have ever been, we love more deeply, and we have learned to forgive and extend grace beyond anything we ever did before, because it was given to us.  God has proven His faithfulness to us, and has given us a peace like we never had before.  The days are still painful…there is not a day that goes by that I don’t think about my girl.  But God brings comfort through amazing friends, and brings music and Scripture to mind that is a great help to us.  We don’t wallow, we are not in the depths of despair.  We cling to the One who has conquered death, and who holds our daughter in His everlasting arms.

If this song had been around when Madison died, I would have loved to have had it sung at her funeral.  I have since sung it at a funeral myself.  It’s so beautiful, and the words have brought me so much comfort…

Seventeen Years…

On this day seventeen years ago, I gave birth to a sleeping little girl.  She was a full-term baby weighing in at 7lbs, 150z.  She was 21.5 inches long.  I labored for fifteen hours….half of which were horrific, until an angel came into the room (anesthesiologist) and administered an epidural.  It had not been on my “birth plan.”  I had intended to give birth as naturally as possible three weeks later.  I discovered that birth plan in my bag on a trip to the bathroom, and ripped it up.  That was the day I learned the hard way to “hold loosely to MY plans”.  Suddenly all of those interventions that so many people scoff at, hate, and avoid, saved me from horrific pain, and unnecessary suffering.  When the back labor was so bad that I was screaming loud enough for the hospital to hear, I didn’t hesitate for one second to take advantage of those things that I believe God gave us for our help...when needed. 

Not many people know how awful that birth was for me.  Madison had a condition called shoulder dystocia.  They did not know this until she was already on her way out.  Had we known, I probably would have been taken to surgery for a c-section (and had I known the terrible pain the next 6 weeks would involve, I would have gone willingly). Basically she got stuck.  I believe with all of my heart that God took her when He did to spare us the utter horror of possibly losing her during birth. It took the work of my OB and two nurses to get her out, and not without horrible battle scars for both of us.  They x-rayed Madison after birth to make sure they didn’t break any bones .

The minute she was born and our doctor announced that we had a girl, the silence and calm of the room was replaced with a flurry of activity.  I felt my head spin and pound, I got short of breath, my heart pounded and raced, and I had one of the first and worst panic attacks of my life.  I was SO afraid to look.  I felt them place my daughter on my belly, and I heard voices telling me to open my eyes and look at her.  Andy whispered in my ear that I should look…she was lovely.

The truth is, death is not “pretty”.  She was a beautiful baby, but she was dead.  Her coloring was dark, her nail beds were all dark, her lips were the darkest I had ever seen, and every time her head leaned back, her mouth would open as there was no control to close it.  I had to make sure I held her in such a way that her mouth stayed closed….but I fell in love.

From the minute my eyes opened, and I got acquainted with that precious girl, I could not take my eyes off of her.  I never stopped looking at her as the nurses and my mom got her dressed, and I watched her as family members held her throughout the night.  When the few hours we had with her came to an end, I didn’t want to let her go.  It was one of the most painful moments of my life…the moment they wheeled her out of our room in her bassinet to take her to pathology.  The only moment that topped that on the pain scale was the moment I had to get up and walk away from her grave knowing that the minute I left, they were going to put her little casket in the cold dark ground, and that was FINAL for this life. Actually, I went back that evening and fell to the ground in a heap of tears when I saw the already wilting flowers, and the “mommy” banner that had topped her casket laying in a huge mound of dirt.  It literally broke my heart…

This is the reality of my experience.  I left the hospital with no baby in my arms.  She was our first, so I went home to an empty apartment.  I closed the door to a nursery we had just finished the day before, and moved a ready bassinet back into that nursery from our bedroom. An apartment I had LOVED, suddenly became a place I hated, and I couldn’t stand to be there anymore.

There was something about all I had experienced in that week that changed me forever.  Holding a dead child does something to your psyche.  I knew that I would never be the same person I was before that week.  One day I’ll share exactly where this experience took me, because it was a very dark and awful road I never want to repeat.  I did not reach out for those hands that hold my daughter, and did not cling to that faith I once had.  I let hurt, anger, bitterness, and the lies of the evil one consume me and take me to a place I never want to go again. 

This is an awful story.  There were some lovely, beautiful moments intertwined with the horrific ones that awful week, but for the most part it was a heartbreaking experience for both Andy and me.  Thankfully He clung to his faith, grabbed onto God with all of his might, and he became the instrument of grace that God used to carry me through and bring me out the other side.

We are not in the depths of despair.  Our grief, though a lifelong journey, really only causes us to struggle this one week of the year, during holidays, Mother’s/Father’s Day, and times when she is missing out on times as a family.  God has restored joy to our household, and we are TRULY happy.  We have two AMAZING children that God has gifted us with, and we can’t imagine life without them.  They are at the ages now that we can share Madison’s story with them, and it is a beautiful thing.  They both have the most caring and sensitive hearts, and I believe it is because of all we have been through as a family.  They never met their sister, but they were surely a part of the aftermath of her death, and experienced as little ones the horror of all that their momma went through as a result.  It was sin…plain and simple.  It’s ok to grieve, but not the way I did.  I almost took my whole family down with me.

But God…He has “restored the years the swarming locusts have eaten”, and He graciously and lovingly put us back together.  He has healed my heart and my mind, He has forgiven me for those dark years, and has given me another chance as a wife/mother/daughter/sister/friend (well 3 out of 5 maybe…for some, what I did was too much to forgive).  He has given us HOPE, and though we continue to grieve, and it will be something we do for the rest of our lives, we grieve with that hope that we will see our daughter again…so it doesn’t consume me as it once did.  What seemed to us to be for evil, God has made good.  It’s not EVER a good thing for your baby to die, but what God has done in and through us, and for other people because of Madison’s life….that is the good.

We were leveled by that frowning providence God took us through.  It very nearly destroyed us.  But God only let us go so far before He reached in and pulled us out of that pit.  He set our feet on a rock, and gave us a new song to sing! And though that song will always have a hint of sadness and grief behind it, it is also filled with great JOY for all He has done for us, and given to us.  We will never “get over” that loss…it was horrific.  It is a part of who we are, and we are stronger, more loving, and more grateful people because of that experience.  Those lessons we learned in the dark, have made us the kind of people we are in the light, and we love more deeply, trust more deeply, forgive more deeply, and worship more deeply because of them. God is good…ALL THE TIME.  He can be trusted, depended on, and we can rest knowing He is the sovereign God of the universe…in control of every aspect of our lives.

Happy Birthday Madison Elisabeth…we all miss you, and love you so much! One day Daddy, Parker, Morgan, you and I will all be together again, and it will be for eternity.  No more tears, no more pain, just happy happy happy forevermore!

On The Eve Of Your 17th Birthday…

Dear Madison,

I am sitting here in our family room looking at pictures from your baby book.  I can’t believe it has been 17 years since that horrible week in our lives.  I changed my cover/profile pictures to pictures of you, and I have been visiting the Facebook page I made for you…a place I can come and it feels like I’m talking to you.  I love when Daddy comments there, or Aunt Cathy, and your name shows up in my home page. It’s a sacred place just for us…


Every August is difficult for us, but for some reason this one has been particularly hard for your Momma.  BIG milestones missed this year.  Next week I should be starting you off on your senior year of high school.  There should be plans for senior pictures, plans for graduation in the spring, and a big bash to celebrate your accomplishments. But once again we are missing out on these wonderful milestones.  It breaks my heart.

God has mercifully allowed the sting of grief to lighten in our hearts, but the pain and the void you have left in our lives is still there.  You are never far from my thoughts.  I love and thank God for your siblings, but they were not “replacements” for you.  I would have loved to have all three of you…

My precious girl, I hope you know how much I love you, and how grateful I am for the fleeting moments I had with you.  They seem so little compared to how long you have been gone. I miss you tremendously.

One of my most treasured pictures of my time with you was taken just a few minutes after you were born.  I wanted my mom, Madison.  When something hurts, there is nothing like your momma coming to help you.  The nurses brought Gammy in, and we had a few minutes together just the three of us.  It is precious to me…

One of the things that brings me comfort is that when you suffered, when you struggled those last minutes of your life, and when the pain was probably more than you could handle, Mommy was there.  I was there from the moment your little heart started beating to the moment it stopped.  Mommy held you. I thank God for that gift.

My beautiful sweet girl, I wish you the happiest of birthdays…how could it not be happy in heaven? I continue to entrust you to those most precious arms that hold you until the day I take my last breath and am instantly reunited with you. You have a place in our hearts that will never be filled with anything else.

Tomorrow as we celebrate your life as a family, we will think of you, talk about you, look at pictures of you, and reflect on God’s goodness to us in allowing you to touch our lives.  I will make my 17th trek to your hospital to pray for the moms that are delivering that night…one of my most precious times for you and me. At 10:15pm my prayer will end in gratitude as it always does…so very thankful that I am your mommy, and that you are my beautiful daughter.

Goodnight my sweet sweet Lovie, I’ll see you in the morning!

Love, Mom

When I Have No Words…

Sometimes a song just says it better than I ever could.  “Yet Will I Praise Him” by Nicol Sponberg.  This woman has known the same pain, under different circumstances.  I love how she puts her heart in words.  It is a DAILY decision for me…I have to CHOOSE to praise when my heart has been shattered.  I can make that decision every day because I trust/rest in a sovereign God.  ALL of my affliction has been sifted through his hands, and the suffering is not meaningless.  It is all for a purpose, and is working for me an eternal weight of glory.  So I’m choosing not to look at what is seen.  I’m trusting in what I can’t see, but what I KNOW the Lord is doing through all of it.  And I am NOT LOSING HOPE…if there is no hope, I have nothing…

Here’s our sweet Madison girl, and some of the most painful moments of our lives…We will praise Him, even when our hearts are shattered…

Yet I Will Praise Him…

I have more I want to say, but for today, let the song suffice…

Mother’s Day…

Mother’s Day is a bittersweet day for me.  I don’t know about you, but growing up all I wanted to do was be a wife and mother.  As I got later into my twenties and God had not yet brought “the one” into my  life, I started to worry that that dream was not going to come true. 

I met Andy just after I turned 28.  We got married when we both were 29, gave ourselves a few months to get used to living together, and got started on the mutual dream we had to have lots of babies. Like 5 or 6 babies.  God gave us the desire of our heart, but not in the way we had hoped, and not without a great deal of pain, suffering, and deep deep heartache.

On my first Mother’s Day, I should have been dedicating a 9 month old baby girl.  I was there, she wasn’t.  God took our little bean to Heaven at 37 weeks, before she even took a breath.  So Mother’s Day was filled with tears, heartache, some anger, and confusion over whether I should stand with the other mothers, or stay seated as I had no children there with me.

God gave me two more beautiful children.  I love them dearly.  I wouldn’t trade either of them for ANYTHING.  But I always miss the dear little girl that made me a mother…

Every Mother’s Day I like to go to the cemetery and spend some time with Madison.  I know she’s not there, but I love having a place to go and just be with her and her memory.  I have taken story books over the years, and read to her.  I have sat there and just enjoyed the cool breezes as I think about how quickly she darted in and out of my life.  Sometimes I will take her pictures with me, and look at them as I sit there.

This year we were invited to my Mom’s house for Mother’s Day, so we only had a few minutes to visit the cemetery.  I took everyone with me this time.  We snapped a few pictures, and then I made everyone go to the car so I could have a few minutes alone with my firstborn…

 

My kids and my husband GO OUT OF THEIR WAY to make sure Mother’s Day is wonderful for me.  I allow myself that time to remember the little girl that made me a mother, and then I move on to celebrate being a mom to the two AMAZING Lovies God gave us to raise.

I got breakfast in bed Sunday morning, a fun bag of gifts, and lots of quality time with my kiddos.  Morgan and I even got to sing together in a mother/daughter choir at church.  I got to stand right behind her and keep my hands on her shoulders the whole time.  It was a special time for us.

Mother’s Day will always be bittersweet, but I’m so grateful for my two children (not possible for me to carry 5-6 kids), and I thank God for them every day, and for making me their momma….best job in the world!

Happy Mother’s Day to all of my Momma friends!

Sweet Sixteen…

Dear Madison,

Happy sweet sixteen, my darling daughter! Here we are at another big milestone without you. How I miss you. “Sweet sixteen and never been kissed”, but you are held in the everlasting arms, and have kissed the face of God! We had so many hopes, dreams, and plans for your life, Madison. A ring of promise would have been put on your finger today by your daddy. A promise to protect you, and help you wait for the beautiful man God would bring along to put a different ring on your finger. That ring has been tucked away to wait 3 more years for your little sister.

I have looked at your beautiful pictures several times in the last weeks, because I finally got up the courage to share them in a private album on Facebook. You were so beautiful! We were met with some insensitive comments, but for the most part friends were touched by those precious moments we had with you. I think back to it like it was yesterday. I remember how you felt in my arms, how it felt to kiss your cool forehead, your long beautiful fingers, your sweet nose, and dark lips. I remember passing you around to family members, but selfishly wanting you back in my arms the whole time. I remember the physical ache in my heart as I watched you get wheeled out of my room, knowing I would not see you again in this lifetime.

My precious girl, it seems that each day that goes by I am farther away from you. In reality, I am one day closer to you! I long for the day when our family of five is all together again, enjoying the pleasures of heaven! I know it is nothing like we could possibly even imagine.

Happy Birthday my sweet darling daughter, I love you with all of my heart, and am so grateful that God picked me to be graced with your presence for 37 wonderful weeks. You touched me in a way no one else ever has, and I will never forget you….

Love, Momma…

When the Night is Rough…

I had one of those nights.  It started with great sobs and feeling like the tears wouldn’t stop.  They did.  I could not sleep though.  I tossed and turned all night, and couldn’t fall into a good sleep. 

If you have had a night like that recently, or are going through things you never in a million years imagined you would, here are a few reminders that His mercies are new EVERY morning, and that in spite of what we’re going through, God is STILL good, and we should praise Him still…

Mercies Anew

Every morning that breaks there are mercies anew.
Every breath that I take is Your faithfulness proved,
And at the end of each day, when my labors are through,
I will sing of Your mercies anew

When I've fallen and strayed, there were mercies anew.
For you sought me in love and my heart you pursued.
In the face of my sin, Lord, You never withdrew.
So I sing of Your mercies anew.

And Your mercies they will never end;
For ETERNITY they remain.
And when this world's beauty has passed away,
Your mercies will be unchanged

And when the storms swirl and rage, there are mercies anew.
In affliction and pain, You will carry me through.
And at the end of my days, when your throne fills my view,
I will sing of Your mercies anew. ~ Sovereign Grace Music

 

When All Thy Mercies

When all Thy mercies, O my God,
My rising soul surveys,
Transported with the view I'm lost
In wonder, love, and praise.

Unnumbered comforts to my soul
Thy tender care bestowed
Before my infant heart could know
From whom those comforts flowed

When worn with sickness, oft hast Thou,
With health renewed my face,
And when in sins and sorrows bowed,
Revived my soul with grace.

Through every period of my life
Thy goodness I'll pursue,
And after death, in distant worlds,
The glorious theme renew. ~ Fernando Ortega

 

I Will Praise Him Still

When the morning comes on the farthest hill
I will sing His name, I will praise Him, still.
When dark trials come and my heart is filled
With the weight of doubt, I will praise Him, still.

For the Lord, our God, He is strong to save
From the arms of death, from the deepest grave,
And He gave us life in His perfect will,
And by His good grace, I will praise Him, still. ~ Fernando Ortega

Best Christmas Memory…

I believe that nothing can top your first Christmas together as a married couple.  You begin to establish your own traditions, divide your time between both sides of the family, and you have your own celebrations that will make memories never to be forgotten.

In the summer of 1996, we realized that we would celebrate our second Christmas with a baby.  We would have a family, new ornaments, and the joy of a little one to share those precious times with.  It was a dream I had had since I was a little girl, and there was nothing in the world I wanted more than to be a wife, and a mother.

Many of you know that the latter part of that dream crashed and burned for us in August of 1996.  That baby we had so looked forward to sharing Christmas with, died.  She died.  In only our second year of marriage we buried a child. 

Instead of joy, I looked forward to that Christmas with dread.  I didn’t even want a tree.  We received ornaments to put on the tree for a little girl that would never be in our home.  We had a third stocking that would never be filled with Christmas goodies.  Instead of baby gifts, I bought a grave blanket and trudged through the snow to uncover my daughter’s grave and rest the blanket there.  I hated that Christmas.  The whole focus was on a baby, and my baby was dead.  I could barely stand to sing the Christmas carols, and could barely tolerate the family get togethers.  My SIL had had a baby 5 weeks after we lost Madison, and though she was very sensitive to us during that time, it was still so difficult to watch everyone hold him, and not be able to share our daughter in the same way.  It was the most painful holiday season I have ever been through.

The next spring, we found out we were expecting another baby.  Because we were “surprised” with Madison, and she ended up dying, I never got to call her by her name or know while I was carrying her what sex she was.  I decided that I would not go through that again.  At our ultrasound appointment I found out I was carrying a baby boy.  We had already picked his name, so we began calling him “Parker”, and using his name when we talked to him.

Parker’s due date was January 3, 1998.  For me, that meant ANOTHER Christmas with no baby.  There was the anxious hope of one, but he would not be there for Christmas.  I remember crying out to God one evening in the fall and saying, “Jesus, I KNOW this is selfish, but I just CAN’T go through another Christmas without a baby in my arms.”  I didn’t believe God would answer that prayer in my favor, but I wanted to let Him know my heart.

All through that pregnancy I was high risk, and watched closely because of what happened with Madison.  Late in my pregnancy, it was determined that a normal birth would not be safe or wise for Parker and me.  I had a lot of things going on medically, and our biggest priority was to bring a LIVE baby into this world.  I wanted the normal birth (I got to have that with Madison), but not at the cost of my baby’s life.  It was determined that the safest and best route for us would be a scheduled c-section. My doctor felt it was best to not let Parker go past 37 weeks in my womb, because that is when we lost Madison.  I had the same health struggles, and for safety reasons we agreed to it. 

37 weeks for me meant that the baby would be born in 1997, and most likely right before Christmas!  If I went into labor before 37 weeks my doctor would go ahead and deliver,  but he wanted to keep Parker baking as long as possible because an amnio at 36 weeks had determined his lungs were not ready (due to my diabetes).  We scheduled the c-section for December 17th.

On December 17, 1997 I gave birth (by c-section) to the most beautiful little boy I have ever laid eyes on.  He was not breathing on his own when he was born, so I was only given a split second to see him before he was whisked off to the NICU, where he remained for the next 5 days. 

15 hours after my surgery, our nurse (a dear friend who was also with me for Madison’s normal birth) put me in a wheelchair and wheeled me to the NICU.  It was 3:00 in the morning, and the lights were dim.  I watched a nurse lift a tiny bundle out of an incubator.  He had seemingly hundreds of wires and tubes attached to him.  She walked over to me, and placed that bundle in my arms for the first time.  He was wide awake, and two of the biggest, most beautiful brown eyes locked with mine, and I was in love!  I got to hold him for 30 glorious minutes while the nurses tended to other little ones on the other side of the room.  Parker watched me as I spoke to him, kissed his face, and sang to him.  Those little eyes looked at me with recognition, and I was thrilled to realize he was mine, he was breathing, (with help), and he was alive. This little man would come home with me. 

Once I was able to get up and walk on my own, I was down at the NICU every second I possibly could be, spending time with my little man.  I was allowed to try to nurse him a few times, but he had to be on the oxygen so we couldn’t keep him out of his bed long.  I remember weeping uncontrollably the day I got to wheel him out of the NICU and bring him to my own room to stay.  I will never forget the feeling of picking him up and sitting in the rocker with him, knowing he was my son, and he was safely here. This time, I would leave that hospital with a baby in my arms…

One week after his birthday I packed him up and took him to our church’s Christmas Eve service.  I have never been more proud in my life, as I was when I walked to the front of the church carrying my beautiful baby boy, to pick up a candle for “Silent Night”.  How grateful I was that God had given me the desire of my heart….a Christmas baby.  The early birth was the safest thing for both of us, and Parker got strong and thrived fast.  He has been healthy as a horse since, and has been the most delightful son ever a mother could ask for.

Parker is my favorite Christmas memory… God’s gift to this world was the birth of His Son, our Savior.  God’s gift to me that Christmas was the birth of my son, bringing healing and joy back to our home, and fulfilling a lifelong dream for me.

Tomorrow that precious gift will turn 14!  He is becoming a man, and I can hardly believe it.  I look up to his face now, and listen to his voice deepen.  His eyes are the same, that darling grin is still there, and when we sit together on the couch, he will still take my hand and play with my pinky finger…who needed a pacifier?  He just wanted to hold momma’s hand :)  I love that boy with all of my heart, and thank God every day for the extraordinary gift that Parker was and is to me.

Happy Birthday Parker Andrew…my heart overflows with immense love for you!

Here is Parker’s first picture in the NICU.  His Oma took this, because I was still recovering from the surgery, and had to wait until the anesthesia wore off to get up and walk. I was sad that others saw him before me, but I’m glad to have this first picture of him.

Here is our little pumpkin a week later.  We laid him on the couch next to a stocking to show how tiny he was :)

Here is my sweet boy today…sigh…

Happy Birthday darling boy!  God has used you to do wonderful things in our family, and I know He will use you throughout your life for His glory.  We are blessed to call you our son!

15 Years…

On this day 15 years ago, Andy and I rode in a limousine for the first time.  The limousine carried us to the cemetery, with our little daughter in a tiny casket between us on the seat…

Madison would have been 15 years old on August 26.  I can hardly believe that, as some days I can remember the events of that day so vividly it feels like yesterday to me. 

We had a pretty tough week last week for a lot of reasons.  I won’t go into all that…I didn’t feel much like posting last week, so this will be it.  I have come to the conclusion that people don’t understand grief, and especially grief over the loss of a child, unless they have walked that journey.  It is excruciating sometimes.  Even 15 years later.  I wrote quite a bit on my Facebook statuses last week, just because I feel like I’m fighting to keep her memory alive. God put us on the hearts of many friends/sisters in Christ last week, and they were a great encouragement to me.  Someone remembered…

I’m writing a book…I don’t mean this post is long…I’m really writing a book.  I have waited for the right time to tell Madison’s story and the horrific years that followed, and I believe that is now.  I have had SEVERAL people encourage me lately to do it, and I’m going to go for it! One friend has some publishing contacts for me, and my dear Ellen has offered to read it/edit it for me as she walked through much of the journey with me.  I feel very strongly that GOD wants me to write this story, for the women out there who like me “didn’t do it right”. I have read so many stories of women who have lost children that grieved in a very God-glorifying way.  Though the books are a great encouragement to me, sometimes it can be discouraging, because I didn’t grieve that way.  I went down a VERY dark road on my grief journey, letting it consume me in a horrible way.  I know there are other ladies out there who have done the same thing (I have spoken to a few), and those are the ladies this book will be for.  I want to show the power of Christ to redeem a life, turn it around, and make all that was awful turn out for that person’s good, and the glory of God. I paid a high price for that sinful time in my life, and still continue to with broken relationships, and struggles in my home because of the level I sunk to.  But Joel 2:25 says, “I will restore to you the years the swarming locusts have eaten”, and we have been seeing God mercifully do that in our lives for the past 6 years.  It has been amazing to watch.  THANK GOD I am not that momma anymore.  I accepted Madison’s death as the sovereign will of God in my life, and I do not try to hold onto her anymore. 

It occurred to me last week on one particularly hard day, that though it seems each year I get farther and farther away from her, I’m actually one year closer to her…that is a comforting thought.  One day my sweet girl and I will be reunited, and there will be no more tears, or deep heart ache.  We will be in the presence of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, TOGETHER…totally gives me shivers to even think of!

Writing will take some time, and so will home schooling, and all of my responsibilities at church that increase in the fall.  My blog will have to take a back seat for a bit…but I promise I’ll keep you as updated on our lives as I can, what fun things we’re studying, new recipes we’re trying, and also how the book is coming.  I would greatly appreciate your prayers.  It will be painful to “relive” that time in my life…

Have a great fall, and a great school year my friends!

*** Just want to clarify that I would pray that this book would speak to ANYONE grieving ANY kind of loss…I just mentioned writing it for women who have lost children, because that is the kind of loss I suffered. ***

Mother’s Day…

All of my life, I dreamed of being a mother.  I played with dolls well past the age I should have, I never aspired to be anything more than a wife/mother.  That is what I dreamed of, that is what I wanted.  God didn’t bring my husband into my life until I was 28, so by the time we got married we were ready to start a family.  Finally…my dream was coming true.

For those of you who know me, and know my story, you know that the dream became a nightmare when our first baby, Madison Elisabeth, died at 37 weeks.  She was stillborn.  On my first Mother’s Day I should have been holding a 9 month old and having her dedicated in our church service.  Instead, I sat there in tears, newly pregnant with my SECOND baby, my heart aching for the little girl that was not with me.  Mother’s Day was ruined for me.  It has since been a day that is extremely difficult for me.  Please no “get over it” comments…you’d have to go through this to understand the emotions behind it.  Yes! God graciously gave me two more beautiful babies to raise, and I am IMMENSELY grateful to Him for that.  There is always a baby dedication at our church on Mother’s Day, and it just causes deep pain to course through my heart…not that I’m not excited for the families involved.  I am.

On Facebook right now, there is a post circulating for Mother’s Day.  It says to post a favorite picture of your mom, or you with your mom, or you with your child.  The picture I picked is just minutes after Madison was born.  My mom was the first one into the room, and the first one to meet our baby girl.  She came right to me, and kissed Madison’s head, and Andy snapped a picture.  It is one of my favorites. 

This Mother’s Day weekend will be particularly hard for us, and I’m asking for your prayers.  I walked into our home school co-op last week, and a friend told me that a friend of hers had delivered a stillborn baby girl at 32 weeks, that morning.  She asked for some suggestions as to how her church body could help this lady.  I gave her a few suggestions off of the top of my head, and told her I was available if this girl wanted/needed to contact me.  I didn’t really think she’d take me up on it, but she did.

I’m not sure how God is going to work in this situation.  I’ve never reached out to someone in a situation like this, except online.  It’s a whole different ballgame when you’re in person.  Online, a person can’t see my emotions, and I can remain somewhat guarded.  Not in person…and I think that’s a good thing.  I believe GOD Himself has given me this opportunity, and I’m praying for grace and strength to step up any way He would have me to.

Andy and I will be going to the baby’s memorial service tomorrow evening.  We have not been to another funeral for a child, let alone a baby, since Madison’s death.  This will be hard…made even harder by the fact that this darling little girl was also named Madison.  What are the chances of that?  Totally looks like a God thing, right?  I know…  I will sit in a service with a tiny coffin once again, my daughter’s name spoken several times, and watch the faces of people grieving in the same way I have. How my heart aches for them.

I would appreciate your prayers that God would allow me to stay strong, and to be a help any way I can tomorrow, and in the future as Donna needs me.  She may not…but I want to be available in case she does.  I didn’t really have anyone do that for me the whole first year after Madison’s death…it was deeply painful.  I withdrew from the world, and didn’t allow anyone to reach out to me. I don’t want someone else to go through that…

I will let you know how things go, and covet your prayers for the Blue family. Pray for ALL of the mothers you know who have lost little ones. Sometimes Mother’s Day is more painful than the child’s birthday/death day…I know it is for me.  Reach out to a mom you know has suffered a loss…even if it was years ago.  The hurt never goes away….they still want to be remembered and encouraged.  If one person came up to me on Mother’s Day and told me they were remembering me and MADISON, I’d cry…but not out of pain.  I’d be THRILLED that someone remembered her, as she is all but forgotten outside my little family of four.

I wish all of you moms out there a HAPPY Mother’s Day.  Hold onto those littles that God has blessed you with.  LOVE on them, and thank God for them.  Thank Him that He allowed you to raise them, and they are there with you.  If you have suffered a loss, I FEEL your pain, and I’m right there with you.  I will pray for you this weekend….whether you lost the one that made you a mother like I did, or you lost one that you mothered until God took him/her home.  My heart aches for your loss, and I will remember you.  I have several names in my mind already…

Grace to all of you this day…HAPPY Mother’s Day!