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.
I have had a day where the weight seems so heavy. The sadness very real. Yesterday, I picked up Hackett from school and after took a mum plant to Koen's grave for the fall season. When I go to Koen's grave by myself, it feels easier, but when both boys are with me I am overcome with the reality that my third boy is missing. That at 35, I change a diaper, pick up Hackett from school, and then go to the cemetery where my second born rests. It's not okay. It's not okay that I have buried a son. Life can feel so light for me at times, and then my heart just shatters all over again in an instant. But I don't fall into pieces, I can't, there is haircut appointments, soccer practice, and dinner. So instead I drive off from the cemetery with dry eyes, because wet cheeks bring out the sadness in Hackett, but quietly in my head, I am haunted by May 27, 2013. Wanting to go back, while at the same time wishing it would go away. But I have to be mom, so drive to the haircut appointment, stop for a bus with flashing lights, and the cars behind me are not paying attention and an accident occurs, that almost included us. My heart racing and my stomach in my throat, I begin thanking God. The two boys in my car are safe. I can not lose another, Jesus. I struggle to shake the images, and they continue to spin in my head as it lay on my pillow last night. There is no rest for the weary, and this morning we go for a follow up dermatologist appointment for Hackett. He had a mole removed a few weeks ago, a mole that by the grace of God I had the doctor check. Today we learn that it was precancerous. Hackett seems to fully grasp the same reality that I have come to know, life is fragile. I held him in the parking lot for 10 minutes as he sobbed primal cries becuase he was sure it would mean his demise, while Tobin looked on from his carseat. I thank God for giving me the words to calm his anxious heart, and Tim Hortons for the doughnut with sprinkles and hot chocolate that gave him the strength to make it to school. My words to him I have had to replay in my own mind, because I can't lose another, Jesus. Since Koen's death, colors are brighter, moments are sweeter, but fear can also grab me at a much quicker speed. I now know intimately how fragile life is.
I am Jackie.