Saturday, May 29, 2010


Yesterday marked one month since Lydia went to heaven. One month. It seems strange to me now that I'll be marking time, not by how long she's with us, but by how long it's been since she left.

I haven't really felt too much like writing. I've been attempting to distract myself during the days by reading and visiting with people. It's too much to deal with every day if there's nothing to fill the days. I think that's why the nights are so hard - there's nothing to fill them. When it's dark and I have nothing to do but wait for the ease and comfort of sleep, I feel doubt and uncertainty begin to creep slowly into my mind and heart.

A couple nights ago I couldn't fall asleep. I got out of bed and as I rounded the corner into the living room the picture of Lydia that hangs on the wall caught me off guard. All of a sudden I couldn't breathe. In that moment, I couldn't remember what it sounded like when she cried or when she breathed or anything about her being alive. I sat down quickly, opened my laptop and watched a video I had taken of her. I cried. As I cried, my mind started to race. I kept thinking of all the things I did while Lydia was alive that took me away from her. How could I have ever left the house when she was still breathing? How could I have put dishes away or vacuumed the floor? How could I have done laundry or made dinner when she was still here, feet away from me? How could I have wasted all of that time? I should have been with her, every moment of every day that she drew breath. I knew the time would be short and I wasted it.

I know. I know. It's not true. I had to shower, keep things going, lead as normal a life as I could. I would have gone crazy and been incapable of caring for her the way I needed to if I never slept or left the house. I know those things are true. But it doesn't stop me from feeling that way. I know that even if I had done all of those things, I'd still be in the same place because no matter what I did or didn't do, there would never have been enough time with her. Eight months is not long enough for a mama to hold her daughter.

Everything feels empty now, but I know God is in my emptiness. I catch glimpses of Him as He works to make me whole again, just as He has made Lydia whole. I praise Him that at the end of all my irrational fears, when the tears have subsided and I've stopped yelling at Him long enough that I can hear Him speak the truth to me, at the end I'm OK. I'm weak. I'm broken. But I'm OK.


  1. I watched you in the relatively brief moments I spent with you and she; I watched you soak her in like bread with olive oil, suck in those little snuggle moments, pat her fondly, kiss her head. (Seeing that meant SO MUCH to me, and it was something I, in turn, sucked in to my own heart - seeing you love her changed me forever in the best way). You did such a good job of drinking her in.

    Of course you put away dishes and showered, and I know you know it was a matter of course that you didn't spend every waking second staring into her face, but I'll say it, too, in case you need someone else to say "of course" as well.

    Of course.

  2. Oh Jen, know I am not even close to understanding your pain, but I pray for you everyday that you can find comfort in doing "normal" things. You're right, 8 months is not long enough...for any mama. Love you Jen, keeping you in my hearts and prayers. Amy

  3. I'm sure that Lydia was quite appreciative that when you held her, you weren't stinky and ankle-deep in Simon hair. :o)

    Love you.

  4. Dear Jen,

    Came via Kim's site.

    I am a bereaved mum, but long ago, almost 21 years, but at times, it seems like yesterday when my baby Andrew was taken away. In fact, today, i had to explain to two new colleagues how I have 4 children, but now, I have 3. They didn't understand.

    Losing a child especially is like losing a puzzle piece. Things can never be the same again.

    Don't let anyone tell you to snap out of it.

    If you feel like talking, send an comment this site, from there, I can email you privately.



  5. Yesterday I was thinking about what's important to show and teach a child. I don't think there is anything more important than love. To show love, to give love, and to give it freely. Not just your love, but the love Jesus. Today, thinking about this brought me back to this post. I think you did show and teach that. I think you gave Lydia that better than anyone I have ever met. I think you gave that in the care you gave her but also in the care you gave yourself so that you were able to care for her. I think you gave Lydia THE most important thing.
    Your love.