As I rocked Tobin on Sunday night, he was in tears and so was I. I didn't know that he would chew the tip off of one of his beloved wubbies (pacifiers) during the night on Saturday. I had no warning that I would not be able to snuggle up my baby anymore, that he would catapult into toddler-hood in one night. He was sobbing in shock with the disappearance of his wubs, and tears fell down my face in the shock of the disappearance of my baby. Not only has my baby disappeared but also my ability to make everything better. For Tobin, the combination of mom and a wubby, healed all. One of the very hardest things as a mom is to see your child broken in sorrow and not have the ability to fix it.
0 Comments
It's been while. I've needed to write, but haven't been able. There has been so much. Some of which I couldn't share right away, some of which I was processing and trying to rebound from, and amongst all the "much" being a mom has been my priority.
We have big news. We are moving. Just a few hours away from where we live now, but that's a few hours from dear friends, and with that is the comfort of a home and a community where we planted deep roots. Right now we live just a few miles from where Koen is buried, he's nestled in the trees just like our backyard. I go there often, not as much as I used to, but it is my place. It's my place, because it's Koen's only place. Logically I understand that his sweet little soul is no longer there, but its the last place we touched the tiniest little casket he was buried in, where we said our final goodbyes, the grass there has been watered by my tears, where I have laid my head on his stone trying to get as close as I possibly could. I won't be able to go there in the evening, or swing by while Tobin is napping in the car and Hackett is at school. I will have to leave him. Kevin and I were so torn when we lived in California about growing our family, and made the decision to wait. After we lost Koen, I thought, this is why. It would have been so hard to endure what we did thousands of miles away from our family, and I have been so grateful that our little family would always reside just a few miles from Koen, and was always thankful that he wasn't buried in California - so far away from us. It was our plan to stay here, but life happens and you realize must walk by faith. I am getting closer to learning that I am not in control, but goodness it's not easy. So over the last month we have been preparing for the possibilty of this move, and now its happening. Really happening. Realtors are coming to see our house early next week, tomorrow we go in search of a new home, on Monday Hackett goes to look at his new school. It's real. And its exhausting. The painting, purging, organizing is hard work, and with a toddler and a 9-year-old playing baseball and Kevin coaching, even harder. But what is so exhausting for me is the emotions I am feeling. I don't like change. No, don't like isn't a strong enough word, hate change is probably far more accurate. And I make strong emotional connections to things, I struggled getting a new car, so a new house is much more traumatic. Especially after all this house has seen. We are preparing to purchase our fourth home in eleven years - that number is staggering to me - and this house has by far held more tears than our other two houses combined. Kevin has never really loved this house, and I wonder if that's why. This house is too sad for him. Hackett and Tobin will live in multiple homes while growing up with us, but this is Koen's only house. Just this one. A room in the house that was ready for him, but that he never slept in, will be his only room. Hackett and Tobin will make so many memories in our new home, but the new home won't hold any memories of Koen for me, like this house does. I think I am in shock about leaving our dear friends here, it hasn't fully hit me what we are walking away from. Amazing people who fill our lives with so much laughter, but have also been there to wipe up our tears, and fill in the gaps during these tough years in our life. They will remain such important people in our lives, but we are moving away from the convenience of fun impromptu night with our kids. I will miss them more than words can even begin to express. What I have learned in our constant string of moves is that distance changes friendships, but the true ones stand the test of time. I am in almost daily communication with many of my friends from California, and I find comfort in peace on knowing it will be the same with these friends. It's exhausting being a mom. It is. Stay at home or working, its exhausting. I think one reason is the amount of emotional energy you pour in to your kids. They need so much of you. My Hackett. This news has not been easy, he's needed his mom and lots of reassurance, but he's handling it. Handling the initial shock, sharing with his friends, even handling a boy who has been mean (telling others that he's happy Hackett is moving), and also seeing his dear friends who are saddened by his news. The weight of it all weighs heavy on me. As we prepare him for all that is coming. We know how hard moves are, we know that it gets worse before it gets better, but this is life, one cannot be rescued from it as bad as we would like to. This experience has already given him the opportunity to display his grave and maturity, and in the end it will give him the confidence to know that he can do this, he can handle hard and yucky and messy, and then come Out the other side better for it. In this next year Hackett will learn first hand the power in this promise: "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9 Tobin has felt the stress and life has been more frustrating for him as a result, and that takes energy and patience too. Which isn't easy, when you feel like you are all out, but we are making it! Kevin has been working so hard juggling it all, and I appreciate it so much. I feel like being a good wife at this stage in transition means handling it, dealing without flipping, finding the peace and the happy. This blog is my place to dump my emotions, I have cried constantly while typing today, but that doesn't mean there is only sadness with this move. There is happy, there is such peace that cannot be explained, there is excitement. Even though I don't like change, I have learned to embrace the adventure of moves, and with each move we've gotten better at adapting and integrating ourselves into our new communities, and I look forward to doing that again. We will make a new home, and it will be filled with love, laughter, and tears, but I pray not as many tears as this house has held. (We started saying goodbyes this week as this is our last year with Southtown Little League.) I don't cry much anymore. For months I cried every single day often making myself cry during the evenings, knowing that I needed to get out the lump that was in my throat all day, During Tobin's pregnancy I tried not to cry - even when I felt a wave of emotion - for fear of not being able to regain my strength and fortitude. I knew that if I began to break down, I may not be able to pull myself back up. Then I had him, and my days are busy, very little time that is all my own. My cheeks are dry most days, I keep things reigned in. It is what feels necessary as I try to be a good mom and wife, but I am still grieving, it's just done in complete silence. I like to pretend that I'm not anymore, it's so much easier, and I feel like I am "supposed" to have moved on almost three years later. I often wonder if those around me, and even those of you who read my blog, are like "okay, enough already, we get it you're sad". I realize this isn't an accurate depiction, but the doubt and unsuredness about how to travel this path, creeps in to my mind. It would be so much easier if I wasn't grieving anymore, if it would just go away. Isn't that awful? That is the raw truth though. It's not the real desire of my heart, but thoughts that race through my head at times. Wishing I could wake up from the bad dream where my baby dies. It's a horrible, awful dream, but one of beauty too, and that is what pulls me back to reality. I don't want to forget the beauty, I don't want to forget Koen's little three pound body in my arms, and his skinny smooth legs. I don't want to forget the piece of my heart he took with him. I don't want to forget all the things he has taught me about life, and love, and kindness, and empathy, and how to trust God when nothing makes sense. I don't want to forget that Hackett was in Kindergarten and wanted to name Koen, Luke Skywalker, Darth Vader, Crusher, or Ud. I don't want to forget that I started to buy him baby clothes exactly three years ago. So this week I am reminded that it is okay to cry. It's okay to have wet cheeks and a snotty nose. It's okay to grieve and take a lifetime to do so. It was a Thursday, we got to school early because Hackett was so excited for the Valentines party they were having that day. I was carrying a grocery bag with two half gallons of ice cream. Students were not allowed in their classrooms yet, so we walked up the hall to look at a bulletin board. I felt a sudden whoosh, and fear set in. Trying to remain calm I handed the ice cream to Hackett, told him to go wait by the principal, and sprinted to the bathroom. I sat down on the tiniest of toilets, and my heart shattered when I saw all the blood. I was only 16 weeks pregnant. I walked down the hall shaking, and there was my panicked little guy, crying in fear, because I bolted so quickly. I held it together for his sake, reassured him, mouthed to the principal what was happening. Terror must have been on my face as two of my favorites gave me hugs as I called my doctor and Kevin. As we waited in the ER room, I told Kevin, I'm done. I can't bury more babies. Two years ago today, the fight for Tobin's life began. His heart was still beating, he looked safe, there was little explanation for what had occurred, but with my history it was necessary for me to do everything in my power to protect his precious life. I started to write this a few weeks ago, and after searching for my Facebook post, I was unable to write more, and it has taken me a few weeks to gather my thoughts and emotions. It's been awhile, a long while. Even when I'm not writing on my blog, I now find myself writing in my head. My sweet readers, I have had over a 1,000 people checking in since my last post. Thank you, I'm still here, just a bit rattled by Hackett's commitments and my Tobin who needs his mommy within reach at all times. I'm tired, exhausted, drained, but so grateful. There may not be a smile on my face at all times, but my heart spills over, even in my low moments. Is it natural to love your kids this fiercly? Is is normal to feel the most enormous love in your heart, so much so, that it hurts at times? I think so, not for all, unfortunately, but most parents. But I wonder if it's intensified after loss? Not that the love is greater, just that you are more aware, your perspective slightly different. To think that God loves us, with that same intense, always longing, thoughts always of us, can't wait for time together, kind of love, fills every ounce of my soul. Hackett was in a musical this last week, and played one of the lead roles. First production at 8 years old, and he blew me away. He brought me to tears, not because I see an Oscar in his future, but that he was poised, confident, and stomped his fears right into the stage while he helped share the love of Jesus. He has struggled with anxiety since his first day out of the womb, and while he was a bit nervous for the actual shows, not near as scared as he was for auditions. So many lines memorized and he delivered them with ease in the sweetest western accent. As we drove home from his final performance I cried as I told him how proud I was of his overcoming spirit, and what an honor it is to be his mom. He is a gift. As I see his gifts develop, I can't wait to see how God will use him. I want to keep him small, but what an honor to watch him grow right before my eyes. Tobin. He's hilarious. I'm not sure how a baby with just a handful of words can make us laugh so much, but he does. He likes to do work, throw things, dance, pester Henry (our dog), and read books. He has some favorite books, and if he starts to read something that is not a favorite, he will chuck that book aside like a boss. One of his favorite authors is Nancy Tillman. On the shelves in the library at our elementary school sit three books, dedicated in Koen's honor, and all three are by Nancy Tillman. I completed our collection of her books this fall, and his favorite is "You're Here for a Reason". As I look at the crumpled pages my heart grieves and rejoices. Tobin, this baby, that I am holding while he sleeps right now, is here for a reason. I'll keep him small as long as I can, but the privilege of motherhood will continue as I see what God has in store for him as he grows. Right now, he is the bringer of mi much joy! Koen was here for a reason too. I don't have the honor of watching him grow or snuggling him while he sleeps or applauding him and glowing with pride while he takes a final bow in a production, but he has a purpose and a permanent hold on my heart. My heart ached as I hung his angel ornaments on my tree, but I smiled knowing that he is represented. That his life, no matter how brief, matters. His reason, which is evident to us, was to touch hearts and soften spirits. I don't believe God intended for us to live without him, but I do believe He can use all things, even the hurt and pain, for His glory. I have wanted to do something concrete to represent Koen, establish something in his honor. I have tossed many ideas around in my head, but have never felt the strong pull of knowing that I had landed on "it". Until this week. There is sweet family of six in California that I know from our time there, and one of their daughters is battling some dehabilatating health issues. A group of "secret angels" have swooped in, delivering gifts to the family each night. Little things, like board games, PJs, movie night supplies. All in an effort to give some of the joy and magic of Christmas to this special family, that needs it so. The result is giant smiles on their four kids faces, and reminder to the parents that Jesus is there holding them, and is using His people to shower them with love. I don't know exactly what it will look like yet, but I want that to be "it". Koen's Angels. His reason is to bring hope and joy, even during extreme lows. I want his reason to be a reminder of God's love for us. I want to spread the kindness that triples for days. I hope you will join me. We have lived this scripture and want to bring this promise to others: "Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning." Psalm 30:5 At church on Sunday, we were singing "Your Grace Finds Me" by Matt Redman, and while holding Tobin who had his hands raised worshiping the Lord, tears began to sneak out of the corners of my eyes. His Grace found me as I heard the sound of Tobin crying on the day of his birth and His grace was there as we stood beside Koen's grave and buried his tiny little body. Its by His grace that I am able to make it through each day. Why I am not paralyzed in pain and fear. I am so grateful. I think about Koen every single day, but this week he has been on my mind even more. After singing on Sunday and having the surreal moment of holding Tobin and grieving Koen, it threw me back to Koen's funeral and the miracle that is Tobin. I had a conversation with one of my dear friends this week about how I felt when we decided to try again, after losing Koen. There was so much guilt, I felt like it was a disservice to Koen's life. Like he was replaceable, in the same way that a pet may be. Like if your baby dies, you just get a new one. I was overcome with anxiety after realizing that I was ovulating. It was so severe that I called my doctor asking for a prescription, unsure how it would be possible for me to walk through another pregnancy. But by the of God, we conceived Tobin that night, and through it all He gave me a peace that I could not explain, even in the darkest of moments. It took me awhile to become attached Tobin during my pregnancy, feeling like I was somehow cheating Koen of the love that was due to him, and also the fear of experiencing the same earth shattering loss again. By His miraculous grace, we have made it. My life, my outlook, my faith, my heart, is forever changed. Adele. She's amazing. And she's back. I have been listening to her single, "Hello", all week on repeat. I read an article today where she explained the lyrics. She's not talking to a former boyfriend, but her younger self. Tears. Death has changed me, but so has the fight for life. By grace I have made it to the other side, and even through lifelong grief, I have found joy. I have had the song Good, Good Father on repeat all week. Tobin and I turn it up on our big speakers in the kitchen. He worships God, hands in the air dancing. He can't get enough. My mom witnessed it this week, and I was chatting with some friends about it at church yesterday. God fills their precious little hearts so early, and we are called to worship him with hearts like theirs. What did he see in my womb? Did the angels wrap themselves around him and keep him safe? When I was admitted to the hospital at 24 weeks and the doctors were telling me that when Tobin would be born they would put him into a warming device that looked like a garbage bag, was Koen watching over his little brother? Does he know what a miracle he is? That medically, he should not be here free from all medical issues? Today, I was singing and picking up the house, and Tobin was dancing with both hands held all the way up. I scooped him up, he put his head on my shoulder, gripped my shirt tight with both his precious little hands, fiercely hugged me, and cooed sweetly, as we danced for five minutes listening to our favorite song. Tears dropped from my eyes as I held my precious youngest son, who embodies the goodness of my Father. I praised God from the depths of my soul, knowing that this would be one of those moments that is blazed into my memory. As we danced I fast forwarded, knowing his life will continue to race by me, and one day I will dance with my baby on his wedding day. My good, good, Father, has a plan for Tobin's heart and life. He needed Tobin to walk this earth for His glory. I started crying before even typing today. Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day worldwide. Koen is heavy on my heart, but so are the many who this has impacted - so many of you. Hackett was asking a lot of questions about heaven last night during our devotion time. Wondering what language we will speak, how we will all fit, how big heaven is, if we will have houses and beds. So many of his questions we are unable to answer. So many questions in life, are unanswerable. I do not have the answers for Hackett. I won't have all the answers to a long list of questions until I am in heaven with Jesus. I don't know why one in four women (and their entire families) experience a loss of a pregnancy or an infant. I don't know why the heartache impacts 25 percent of momma's. It has been almost two and a half years since I gave birth to Koen, and standing that far out, I may not understand, but I can see. I see that in my hurt and pain, God has used Koen's death, and life, to touch hearts. I see that Tobin, brought the joy of life and living back into our home. Not everyone gets that closure, and I don't have the answers for that either. But I know I serve and love a God who is real, who knows that life on earth is painful and hurts so very much at times, and yet he remains faithful. His love never ends. Seek him, depend on him, and wait quietly for him. Jesus is the answer to all of your questions, all your pain. I have poured my heart out to you, some weeks, months, more than others. So many of you know my inner most thoughts, pains, sorrow, joys. I am not sure why it feels safer to type than speak the words out loud for me, but it does. Instead of telling one of or two of you in person, I have published it for the masses. And what you all have done, is wrap me in your virtual arms and cry. You have given me this safe place to grieve and heal. I have always been so very grateful for this, but even more so after this week. This week I shared Koen with you, unsure of myself, but ready. Over 800 of you saw him, and I was flooded with love and support once again. Not my intention, but the response honored Koen's life, which means more than I can possibly explain. I am humbled. Thank you all for helping me to heal. I am able to live for Koen, be his voice, because of you.
I don't know where my blogging and writing will lead me, but I feel God nudging me to continue. I have signed up for an online class to help me navigate the waters. There is so much more I can do, many ways I can reach others, and my prayer is that this helps me. I just need to find the time and courage to move forward. Thank you for your prayers, love, and support. |
AuthorI am Jackie. Archives
May 2019
Categories
All
|