Lydia Eileen

Gram Thompson

2011-10-28T23:33:00.003-04:00

Thursday, we said goodbye to Gram Thompson. She passed away suddenly on Tuesday and her children, grand-children and great-grand children gathered to honor her life and give thanks. I loved Gram the moment I met her. We discovered quickly that we had a mutual love for Trading Spaces and for her second grandson and we were pretty excellent friends after that.

We were with her eight years ago when she said good-bye to her beloved husband, just three short months before Micah and I were married. I never told her, but it was as I watched her in those first difficult days after his death that I really began to understand what it meant to devote your life entirely to someone else. She gave all of herself to love her husband and her children well. I pray for God's grace to be the kind of wife, mother and grandmother that she was.

This is my favorite picture of Gram with Lydia. The past few days, it's all I could think about. I hope this is what's happening in heaven, plus a few more people I know Gram couldn't wait to be with again.

(photo by J.C. Carley)

I love you, Gram. Thanks for making such a wonderful son who grew up to make another wonderful son who became an amazing husband for me and an unfailingly loving father for my children. How blessed I am to be a part of your family.

Is he your first?

2011-10-15T12:45:00.002-04:00

This is the worst question. I was asked this question twice today. It's amazing to watch the face of the questioner go from happy goo-goo baby eyes and the high pitched voice go to sad eyes and low voice when I tell them, "Actually he's our second. We had a little daughter who passed away." I can see what's going on behind their eyes as they scramble for something to say.

Maybe it's my own fault. Maybe I should just say, "No, he's our second" and not mention Lydia, but they always ask the follow up question of, "How old is your other child?" so I end up just saying it anyway. I won't say, "Yep! He's my first!" just to avoid making them uncomfortable.

It's hard getting asked this question but it gives me opportunity to talk about my girl and I love that. The woman who asked in Starbucks said she thought it was awesome that I answered that way. I told her I can't answer any other way. She'll always be my first baby, the sweet girl who made me a mama.

I miss her. I didn't expect that I wouldn't feel sad once we had another baby, so it's ended up like I thought it would. I love Levi. The part of me that was aching to be a mother again is filled - overflowing even. But the part of me that is Lydia's mama is still aching. I've found the more I love Levi the more I miss Lydia. It reminds me of this post I wrote awhile ago. The joy and pain are always together. The pain makes the joy greater but the joy doesn't take all the pain away.

I think I've realized this is just how it's going to be. And I think it's OK. As long as there's an ache in my heart it will remind me what a gift my little man is, how each moment with him is precious, and how he belongs to Jesus. He isn't a replacement for what I've lost, but he is a blessing from my Savior that reminds me of His great love for me, just like his big sister did.

Home

2011-09-15T20:35:00.000-04:00

As the weather turns cool here in CT, I'm so thankful to have this tiny little boy curled up on my chest to keep me warm. We're snuggled right now under the blanket made of Lydia's clothes and my heart is full.

We're adjusting to being home, to having an infant and to once again being a family of three. I'm just beginning to process everything that happened the past couple of weeks - having a baby, being in the NICU the same time as we were with Lydia, watching E say goodbye to Levi, being madly in love with this little man - it's all a lot to process.

Soon there will be pictures and updates and many good things, but for now, we're snuggling and diaper changing and sleeping and saying thank you to Jesus for this sweet little man.

Closer and Closer to Home!

2011-09-07T20:28:00.007-04:00

Levi is doing wonderfully! Today he is up to six times eating from a bottle. We've been with him for three and he's done great on all three! We're heading back tonight for one more feeding. If he does well with that and the two overnight feeds, tomorrow he should be up to eating every time from the bottle. Once this happens, we should be able to be discharged! We're hoping Friday or Saturday to be on our way home.

The other piece that still needs to get worked out is our inter-state compact that allows us to take Levi out of Oklahoma. As far as we know, the documents were all sent to CT today. Our social worker says that it should only take a day to get approval. Once that clears, we're legal to bring him home.

Still no news on the birth father front. The social workers are (hopefully) going to speak with him tonight. As I've mentioned before, ideally he'll sign off on his rights on the spot. If he doesn't or they can't find him for whatever reason, there will be a bit lengthier of a legal process, none of which we need to be a part of. We just want to make sure everyone knows that if the birth father does not sign off and we bring Levi home this weekend, we're in a "legal risk" situation, where we understand that the father can contest and we might have to bring Levi back to Oklahoma. No one thinks this is likely, but we're all aware that it's possible. This is often the way adoptions are done, so we're not terribly worried.

Other than that, we're feeling great! We're exhausted and really ready to come home and get settled into life with Levi.

Sunday Update!

2011-09-04T10:12:00.000-04:00

Levi is plugging along. All of his IV fluids are off and he doesn't need any more blood sugar tests. He's out of the baby toaster and into a regular crib. Today he was up to three bottle feedings. They might go up to four tomorrow, but they might wait because he won't ever eat quite all he's supposed to before he conks out. Normally it's all but 5ml, and he's really doing better than I thought he would. BUT, he still needs to eat all of his food every time before they're going to release him. It could be in a few days...but it could also be more than that. Please pray that he'll figure it out quickly. We're all ready to come home.

E has gone to court and given up her rights. This happened on Friday and it was a tough day for her. We saw her after and, though our social worker says she's committed to her decision, (and said so to the judge), she's still sad. Today when we saw her it was the same thing. As it gets closer and closer to him being out of the hospital it's becoming more and more real to her.

I remember feeling the same way with Lydia. We knew every day was one day less and we never knew when one day it would be over. There's such great fear in the knowledge that a loss is coming. Fear...desperation...it's wretched.

I know it's different, but I know E is feeling similarly. And it doesn't matter that we love him and will care for him, just as it doesn't matter that Lydia is whole in heaven with Jesus. The knowledge of the good things our children have attained through our loss doesn't take away the pain of them not being with us any longer. Time lessens it, yes, and I want so much to tell her that, but it doesn't take the pain away. My heart hurts for this mama who loves her little boy but knows that letting him go is the best way to love him and her other boys. I am amazed by her courage. Please pray for her.

Our last prayer request has to do with the birth father. We're hoping that tomorrow a representative from the agency will go and meet with him. Pray that tomorrow they will find him and he will sign the paper the terminates his rights. Because then (even though he won't legally be ours until several months from now) he'll be ours. Because really, in our hearts he's already ours and we'd like to keep it that way.

OK. Pictures!

Holding Levi for the first time!

First time bottle feeding!

Snuggles!

Love.

So chubby. So sweet.

Day 2

2011-09-01T19:25:00.004-04:00

Levi continues to improve! The doctors are steadily backing off IV fluids and increasing his feedings. His blood sugar is in the right range consistently. Soon (hopefully) we'll be able to start feeding him with the bottle. All good improvements and we're loving spending time with him...even though he just sleeps. Apparently, this is what babies do.

Tomorrow E (Levi's birth mother) will be going with the social worker to court to have her parental rights terminated. I haven't said much about her because I don't want to invade her privacy, but people, she is AWESOME. We've gotten to spend time with her and chat and we seem to get along really well. She seems comfortable with us and calls Levi by his name. The social worker says E is really happy with her choice after meeting us, and foresees no problems with the courts tomorrow. Please continue to pray for her. Saying good-bye to your baby is hard. I know the fact that he's healthy and well makes a difference, but she will have her own grief to deal with. Please pray for God's peace.

Again, the one variable here is the birth father. We spoke with the social worker, and the plan is to look him up and talk to him on Monday. Best case scenario is that he hears the news and on the spot signs the paper terminating his rights. Worst case is that he wants to push forward with his rights. In this case, a hearing would be called and he would plead his case before a judge. The social worker said that since he had no involvement in the pregnancy or supporting E or Levi, there's little chance the judge would award custody. But, you never know. Please pray that we would be functioning in the best case scenario.

We would be more worried about this but every time we see him, he's just ours and nothing else really matters. Tonight he was awake and looking at us and it was magnificent.

Levi Vaughn

2011-08-31T16:52:00.005-04:00

We met our baby boy today! Things are not what we expected, but don't be alarmed. He is in the NICU, which is not uncommon for babies born of mothers with gestational diabetes (which his mom had). His blood sugar is pretty messed up, and being born three weeks early has his breathing slightly less consistent than they want to see. When we first met him, he was breathing with just a little room air on a nasal cannula.

In the hours spent with him, he has already come off the nasal cannula and his blood sugar has already improved drastically. Unfortunately, because they have to take so much blood for blood sugar testing, there is a line going into his umbilical chord and they won't let us hold him until that comes out. But we've been giving him lots of smooches and holding his hand and making sure he knows we're here with him.

The doctor we spoke with this morning told us it's possible he'll have to be in the NICU for a couple of weeks. Once his blood sugar works itself out and his breathing slows, we'll be able to start to bottle feed him. This can sometimes be a challenge, but we've been helping him suck a pacifier and he seems pretty excited about that. Levi and I talked and we've agreed that he'll improve quickly and we'll take him out of the NICU by Friday :) It is possible that he'll have to be there only days if he improves quickly, so please please pray that he does so we can get him out of there.

It was a little disheartening at first, seeing him there. But it's all so familiar - the sounds, the smells - we've been here before. But praise Jesus, it's such a different story. We feel peace and joy and thankfulness and we love him so much already. Please keep him in your prayers! We will update as we can, but we're spending as much time as possible with him so that he knows who we are.

Here he is. Our sweet Levi Vaughn.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOKLAHOMA!

2011-08-31T00:45:00.002-04:00

For those who haven't heard, we're in Oklahoma and mere HOURS away from meeting our new little man! The plan is to meet the social worker at the hospital tomorrow at 9:30 (central time) and then we'll meet the birth mother, her mother and our SON!

He was born early this morning, weighing 9.6lbs. We've been told multiple times by the social worker that he is beautiful and "vocal." This, I think, means we are in for it :)

We'll post pictures as soon as we get them. Thank you everyone for your love and encouragement and general elation and prayers for safety. We are overwhelmed and blessed by each of you and can't wait to get him home to meet you all!

Lydia's Birthday

2011-08-22T14:52:00.003-04:00

Lydia's second birthday would have been a week and two days ago. We decided this year to have a party. The hope of the party was to do two things. First, we wanted (as my friend Megan said) to put Lydia on everyone's front page. We wanted her thought of and her name spoken with thankfulness on the day she was born. We thought, how better to do that than by gathering all the people who loved her and who have loved us together?

The second thing was that we wanted to say thank you to the people who walked through her life with us and who have walked through the difficult time of her death and our grief. It was a beautiful night. It doesn't take away the pain of her not being here, but it made us feel so blessed and thankful for her life and for the people God has caused to surround and support us.

Here are some pictures.

After Lydia died, I found a quilt online that was made from a child's clothes. This child was still living and the quilt meant to be a keepsake for him as he grew older. When I saw it, I knew I wanted one out of Lydia's clothes. These aren't the very special things she wore, but they are things she wore often that we loved to see her in. My amazingly talented mother in law made it for us and it's perfect. It's on our couch, ready to snuggle up under on cold nights.

The amazing Megan came for the weekend (and brought her wonderful baby girl) and helped make decorations and provided all around emotional support.

These are the centerpieces she made. Branches and paper flower with beautiful tea lights. They were lovely and sweet and perfect.

I grabbed this old window out of the barn in Maine. I strung pictures of our girl and Micah hung it from the tree. I love how it turned out.

Sugar cookies were favors. I had an elaborate plan to decorate in detail, but when it came down to it, I just did an "L."

No picture could capture the loveliness of our backyard that night. Micah put a spotlight in the maple tree (which we are now calling "The Party Tree") and my brother-in-law Josiah hung lamps purchased from IKEA all through the tree. It was magical.

We gathered rocks from around the yard, grabbed some paint and brushes and put them out on the table. We asked our friends to paint them with whatever they wanted and we are planning to build a planter in the yard designated Lydia's Garden. We'll plant tulips and these rocks will be used to decorate.

Thank you to all of our dear friends for loving us and celebrating our girl, to our families for helping us prepare and execute this whole she-bang, to Megan for being around and helping with everything (despite freakish fever sickness) and Amber for taking photos!

Adoption Post-Phone Call Update

2011-08-10T11:31:00.002-04:00

Aside from slight technical difficulties, it went really well.

She looked through several profile books and apparently as soon as she saw ours there was an instant connection. The birth mother could still change her mind, but we were assured that once the baby is born, he'll be ours and they won't ask for him back. If, once we know she's in labor, we can make it down to Oklahoma in time, she said it would be fine with her if I was in the room when the baby is born.

She said that her other boys were born early, so we should be expecting that she'll have the baby in the next TWO OR THREE WEEKS.

We got more details but my head is spinning and my hands won't stop shaking. Please don't stop praying.

Pray for:
1. Continued health for E (our birth mother) and that sweet little baby boy.
2. For E's heart as she moves forward, that her heart would be protected and full of peace.
2. Protection of our hearts, should she decide to keep him.
3. Finances - pray that the money we need would become available quickly so we can be prepared with it all when we arrive in Oklahoma.
4. Faith - we want to remember all of the times God has provided for us in the past and know that He will do that again.

I asked our social worker if it was OK now to be more excited and she said (knowing that nothing is final until it's final) YES BE EXCITED!

I need to go shopping now!

Adoption Update!

2011-08-04T18:44:00.002-04:00

Well, we got a call.

There's a woman in Oklahoma who is due September 21, is having a little boy and wants us to adopt him!

We were told we're allowed to get our hopes up and be excited but we're to be cautious too because she can still change her mind.

There are many details that need to get worked out but we are amazed and thankful and over the moon. We'll hopefully be speaking with her in the next couple of days.

Thank you so much for your prayers of support. Please pray that the logistics of travel and timing will work out, that the money we need will be provided and that grace and peace will be with us and with the mother of our Maybe (BUT REALLY HE MIGHT ACTUALLY BE OURS!!!!!) Baby Boy :)

Adoption Update, June 14

2011-06-14T13:03:00.003-04:00

Well, we sent our book down to Oklahoma and it arrived a week ago. I spoke with our social worker today and they haven't heard anything from the birth mother. She hasn't called or been in contact at all since last week.

This can mean several things. It could mean simply that she hasn't made a decision yet. It could mean that her life has been crazy and she hasn't had opportunity to make a decision. Or, it could mean that she has changed her mind about wanting her baby to be adopted.

Jen (our social worker) said that normally the process will not be like this. Normally, they will just send our book and not tell us that anyone is looking at it so we don't have to wait and worry like we're doing now. Since we had our books and needed to over-night them, she needed to tell us something was happening but she hopes to spare us from this kind of insanity again.

She also told us not to spend time thinking about what happened or why she changed her mind, so of course that's exactly what I'm doing.

So, it's not a 'no' but it's starting to seem a less likely. It's OK. It's not awesome, but it's OK.

Adoption Update!

2011-06-06T18:21:00.002-04:00

Our background check cleared! We've been waiting since the end of March and now it is done which means we are officially a waiting family! We got the first copy of our profile book last week and have several more ordered.

When our social worker called, she asked if we could send our one book down to an adoption agency in Oklahoma. There's a woman whose baby is due at the end of June/beginning of July and she is looking to have a Christian couple adopt her baby. We have no details about who she is, anything about the baby or how many other couples she is considering.

We know that this is the first time anyone is looking at our book and it's likely that we will not be selected and will have to go through this whole roller-coaster process again. So...we're not getting our hopes up. We're NOT getting our hopes up.

We're getting our hopes up a little.

The Maybe Baby Fund

2011-05-25T21:44:00.003-04:00

And now, for a guest post written by one of our oldest friends and Lydia's god-mother!

***

Dear Friends,
There have been so many times I’ve sat down at my computer to read this blog and I have been overwhelmed by the generosity of Jen and Micah. They have been so open in sharing both Lydia’s beautiful life and their journey through grief. With every entry there is this renewed yearning within me to do something for my friends, to somehow comfort them with the comfort I have so continuously received from the Lord.

After talking to others who love Jen and Micah, I have learned that I am not alone in this desire. That is why I am so excited to share with you an opportunity to bless them in a tangible way!

An account has been set up to help defer the substantial costs that accompany the adoption process. I have asked Jen to make this accessible on the blog so that those who feel led to come alongside this couple would have that opportunity. Thank you for taking the time to read this, I am so not as eloquent as Jen!
God Bless!
Sarah

If you’re willing to help Jen and Micah bring their Maybe Baby home, here’s how you can:

1. You can write a check to Micah Thompson and mail it to Church of the Apostles, P.O. Box 320791, Fairfield, CT 06825, ATTN: Micah Thompson

~or~

2. You can click on the lovely and brand new “Donate” button to donate with a credit card through PayPal.

We were hoping to be able to have donations sent to the adoption agency,but since the adoption is domestic, there is a chance the baby might come from a different state through a different agency. If that happens, there is a possibility the money sent to the adoption agency in CT won’t be transferable and the money donated would be lost. If we hear differently, we will let you know.

Thank you for taking time to consider giving and sharing in this journey!

Adoption Update

2011-05-18T09:31:00.003-04:00

Remember a hundred years ago when I told you we were going to adopt and then didn't say anything more about it? Allow me to say some more things about it.

We have finished our homestudy! What this means is that all of our meetings and paperwork and health forms and financial statements have been compiled into one very lovely document put together by our social worker. The only thing that we are still missing is the completion of our background check, which can take a rather long time. We were told not to expect it to be done until sometime in June. Our social worker has come to visit the house and we are working on making a room for our Maybe Baby. That's what I'm calling it because I won't be convinced of it until we've had a baby in our house for probably at least a year.

Having decided to do a domestic adoption, once our background check has cleared, we will submit our Profile Book. This is a compilation of pictures of our life. I'll probably put some pages of it up before too long so those of you who don't live in adoption land will know what I mean. The Profile Book will go to our adoption agency and they will have several copies of it to give to other agencies as well. Once our book is submitted, that's when the real waiting starts.

We wait to be chosen by a birth mother. This could take two weeks or it could take two years. Micah has told me repeatedly not to get my hopes up that we will have a baby soon, but people, my hopes are up. I am trying to remember the lessons I learned before and after Lydia was born and this is what I keep repeating to myself - We will have exactly the child God wants us to have. If it takes two weeks or two years, I know our child is already set in the mind of God. And I don't want just any child. I want the child God has for us. So if Maybe Baby comes immediately or after a long wait, I am confident that it will be the right time for all of us.

That's pretty much it. We're so excited for the day when we can share that we will be bringing a new life into our home but until then, we hope that you will pray along with us for something things:

1. For patience and peace as we wait.
2. For our baby, wherever they are that they will be safe and protected from the time of their conception to the time of birth.
3. For our baby's birth mother - I've been thinking about her a lot. I don't know specifically what has happened in her life that will cause her to give her baby up, but I know those are probably not all good or easy things. I've been praying (and hope you will join me in my prayer) that she will be safe and protected in this time, that she would be surrounded by people who love and support her, and that she would be aware, even if she doesn't know Him, of God's love for her. I'm so excited to meet her.
4. That our background check would be completed soon.
5. That God would provide the funding needed to help us bring our baby home (there will be a guest post later in the week regarding this issue).
6. For wisdom and discernment - we are not without some decision making in this process. If we get chosen by a mother, there is still the opportunity for us to not adopt. Pray for a clear answer when the time comes.

I know there are more things, but I think that's enough for now. Thank you, friends, for being interested and for asking and for praying without being asked.

One Year

2011-05-14T18:47:00.005-04:00

Before you read this post, I wanted to say thank you to all of you who wrote e-mails, facebook messages, sent notes or simply prayed for us as April 28th passed. As always, we felt sustained and comforted by your prayers and the knowledge that Lydia's life is still a part of yours. A special thanks to our friends Dawn and Ole who remembered our girl in this beautiful way while they were in Germany.

********

We passed one year since Lydia died. It passed quietly, except for the twenty minutes I spent hysterical because the flowers we bought to put at her grave ended up being hideous. It is the only thing I can give her now and they were hideous. It caused a fairly substantial meltdown, but then the day was quiet. Micah and I spent the day together, watching the video of Lydia’s memorial service, the slideshow we made, videos of her. It was sad and difficult but it was OK. We made it through.

Then, not magically or with any fanfare, but slowly and quietly these past days, I’ve felt something lift. It’s not a lot, but the heaviness feels just a little lighter. We made it through one year. We’ll be able to make it through another.

I feel like I’m finally settling into a place of comfort with my grief. In Pilgrim’s Progress, Christian has a burden he carries around. By the grace of God that burden falls away when he comes to the cross. I thank God that burden of death is taken away when I look to the cross, but I know that as long as I live I will carry this other burden of grief. When Lydia first died, it was heavy and cumbersome and back-breaking. Now, it’s lighter and easier to carry as I’ve become more familiar with it. I know (at least I hope) that as we move forward it will get lighter and easier, but I don’t think it will ever not be there. Maybe it will get to be a mostly empty backpack slung across my shoulders, or maybe it will be a little wallet that only comes out with me on some days, but it will always be there. I’m understanding that now. I feel like I’m finally learning to live my life carrying this grief with me. And praise Jesus He is there to help me carry it, no matter the weight. How I long for the day when I come to my true home and cast it off forever.

But until then, I will carry on. I will think of her every day and be thankful. I will wish that she was with us wherever we go. I will write her name in the sand on a beach where I wish I could have seen her running around collecting rocks on Mother’s Day. I will let my heart rejoice in the prospect of new things and new life on this earth, but even more I will rejoice that there is a Savior and a heaven and a sweet little girl who wait for me when my days on this earth are done.

Thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Good Friday

2011-04-22T16:25:00.003-04:00

The day we buried Lydia, our bishop’s wife and my dear friend, Erilynne, gave me this. It’s called a holding cross. The angles are skewed and the edges rounded so that it is easy to grip. She held onto it as she struggled through health issues that doctor’s weren’t sure she would overcome. In the moments before we got in the cars to go to the cemetery, she gave it to me.

I don’t remember in detail much about that day. Always I will remember the way it felt as my fingers curled around that cross and gripped it so tightly I had difficulty straightening my fingers when it was time to let it go. It brought Him close on a day He felt far away. It reminded me that I would be with Him one day and this empty, broken part of me would one day be filled and healed.

Today, for the first time since Lydia’s service, I went into the church where we gathered together. I went for a couple of the Good Friday services held there, the cross tucked safely in a pocket in my purse, where it has lived since that first day I held it. I listened as minister’s spoke of Christ and His sacrifice, as they focused today on what the cross means for us.

It’s a holding cross. We hold onto it for dear life on the days we don’t think we can make it through. It brings Him close on days when He feels far away. It reminds us that He has made it possible for us to be with Him, and that one day, He will fill the empty and heal the broken.

Should all else be taken from me, should I be wounded beyond repair, shaken to my core, hopeless beyond words, the Cross stands and I will cling to it. It is unshaken, eternal. It stands to remind me of a love that surpasses my comprehension, that will sustain me though I lose everything and that will one day restore me and make all things new.

I am holding on. On this Good Friday, I pray that you are too.

How I Am

2011-04-06T21:50:00.003-04:00

People have been asking.

We’re twenty-two days away from the anniversary of Lydia’s death. I think anyone who is grieving a loved one will tell you that the anticipation of days like birthdays or anniversaries are often worse than the days themselves. This has been true of me as we’ve walked through the past 343 days.

I’ve been trying to explain to people why (beside the obvious) I’m having such a difficult time with this day. I think I’ve figured it out. Since the day she died, I’ve been trying so hard not to think about the day she died. It would be far too easy to play it over and over and over in my head. But if I had allowed myself to do that, I don’t think I would have lasted long. Reliving her death day would only bring another kind of death.

So, I put it away. That day and the day we buried her, I put those days away. They’re always there, kind of sadly waving at me from the dark corners of my heart. I look, wave back and keep my distance. But now, they’re coming close. The closer they get the more I can see into them. I see the last things and the empty where there was so much fullness before. I see goodbyes and and quiet that nearly kills.

And I am afraid. I wish that I wasn’t and it’s all well and good to say that I shouldn’t be, but I am. I’m afraid of barely healed wounds being torn open again and of desperate doubt growing again in places that I’ve only recently weeded it out.

And I’m sad. A year is no time and so much time. We’ve barely begun life without our girl but every day is one day further away from our life together. My memories are less vivid now than they were and I will sit and watch video after video of her to remember more clearly how she turned her head to look at me or the sound of her little gaspy breaths.

I just want the 28th to come and go so I can look and say, “I made it through a year. I can make it through another one.”

In these days, I’m so thankful for moments of hope. I do not think it is coincidence that made Lydia’s death day and Easter fall within less than a week of each other this year. Easter is another day I’m eager to get past but the proximity will not let me ignore this one thing: Because He lives, so does she. All of the memories that I’ve been trying to keep at bay, the agony of letting her go and carrying on without her - this is not the end of her story.

And it isn’t the end of mine. There is life for me. There is life for Micah. And hopefully our lives will mean life for someone else. I have hope that our arms will not be empty forever. I have hope that all this love we have to give is not for nothing. And even if these things never come to be, I can still have hope because He is alive.

Unfortunately, staring down this month, hope isn't always my first response. If you think of it, please pray that the hope would make its way through the fear, that a light would shine in the dark places and that as we approach this death day, we hold on to the promise of the life she has with Him.

The New Room

2011-03-17T10:52:00.005-04:00

I wrote on my other blog about changing Lydia's room into what I am now calling the New Room. I wrote about it from an excited crafters perspective, but I wanted to write about it from a grieving mama's perspective too.

We had barely passed nine months since Lydia died. We had been toying with the idea of changing it for a while, especially in light of the possibility of a new baby somewhere down the line. I didn't want to bring a new baby into the house with Lydia's room still as her room. Also, my crafting stuff had kind of taken over the dining room, so it seemed like we were getting close to the time.

Then, my friend Lisa was crashing out our house for a couple days and said that if it were easier and she'd be more out of the way, she could just sleep on the couch in Lydia's room. I was unprepared for my reaction, which externally was no big deal but internally...wow. Inside it was all, "NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ONE CAN EVER STAY IN THERE. EVER. EVER. EVER. It is HER room!" While I know this reaction may be justified, it surprised me.

I got in bed that night, wrapped my arms around Micah and told him we needed to change her room. Soon. I could feel myself starting to hold on too tightly. It was the last thing...the last bits of her left and I knew that if we didn't do it soon, I wouldn't be able to let go. The further away we get from the time she was here, the less I can remember clearly. Things are getting hazy, and I know that's just the nature of loss, but when I went in her room, I could still remember things. As much as I wanted to hold on to that, I know myself well enough to know that I would make it into a shrine - a holy place where no one else could go. And I could not do that to myself, my husband or any other children we might one day be blessed to bring into our home.

So, that weekend we both had a three day weekend and knew we could get it done. We made a plan. He and I alone would take everything down on Friday night. Then on Saturday, we'd have people over to help us get the room painted and everything set up.

On Friday night, I decided to just let myself feel all the emotions of everything. I allowed in the wretchedness that comes with the remembrance of our hope that she'd grow up looking at these things to wash over me. I remember putting up the butterflies on the wall, thinking that when she was crying I could show them to her and let her pull them off the wall. I could picture her as a three year old, playing on the rug covered in toys. I imagined turning her crib into a toddler bed and calling it her "big-girl bed."

I let myself feel it all. And let me tell you, friends, it hurt. Deep into my soul, it hurt. But we did it.

I got up the next morning, and it was OK. We painted the walls and it was OK. We got the furniture up, and everything in its new place, and it was OK.

I brought back in some things that were in her room, so that all around me all the time I can remember her. Here are some pictures.

Above the bed, you can see I hung back up the butterflies that were in her room.

On the cabinet is the door knob hanger with her name on it. Above my desk are pictures of her.

A close up so you can see how I kept her name banner. It was one of my favorite things from her room, and I wanted to keep it around.

This is my favorite little section of the room. The verse on the wall is the hope of my life and I'm thankful to have it somewhere I can see it every day.

This giraffe lived in Lydia's crib. The shirt it has on was one Lydia didn't get to wear but my mom bought it for her before she was born. It is also a giraffe, but the letters to Lydia's name are the pieces that make up the giraffe. Also, there is the book of Lydia's life that I made.

Thankful

2011-02-20T14:51:00.002-05:00

Today I am thankful for friends and family who help me do hard things. We took down Lydia's room this weekend. We're still in the process of making it into something new, and I will post about it another day.

I'm thankful for a patient husband who will forgive me for snapping at him because he knows I'm not really mad at him, I'm just sad.

I'm thankful for having people in my life who I can ask to pray for me and I know they do.

I'm thankful that our girl got to have a birthday party one year ago today when she turned six months. And for friends who remember why this day means something to us.

I'm thankful for missionary friends in Nepal who remember our girl and wrote her name in the sand on a beach in Thailand.

There are people in the world who remember her and places on the earth that bear her name. For that, I am thankful.

The God Part

2011-02-14T20:03:00.003-05:00

So. The God part of this story. This part is difficult to write because I'm still working my way back into being comfortable with being near Him. I'm anxious and that makes writing about Him like everything is OK and back to normal feel like a lie. So, just know as I say all of this it is true but it is still a struggle.

After Christmas I began to feel myself coming out of the fog I'd been in since before Thanksgiving. We had begun making changes and plans for changes and I was feeling good about it. Until, all of a sudden, I wasn't. We had decided to adopt, but we lacked focus and a specific plan. It became frustrating and unsettling every time we tried to talk about it, or any time I thought about it.

I knew why. He wasn't part of it. He wasn't part of it because I was unwilling to trust Him enough to allow Him to be. We had trusted Him with Lydia's life and He took her away from us. We trusted him with our plan for a family and were left now with aching hearts and empty arms. All I could think was, "If I trust Him now, what other hurt does He have in store?" Even His blessings can bring pain...how can I trust?

I was happy to have Him keep His hands out of our business and just let us take care of everything. Ha. As if He would do that.

I know too much to believe that any true, joyful and lasting thing could ever exist without Him. I was at an impasse. If I trust, I get hurt. If I don't trust, I get hurt.

Still unsure, we cautiously filled out the paperwork, believing that somehow the other pieces would start to come together. As I finished up the paperwork, we realized that in order to apply, we had to send in $25o for the application fee, which we were expecting, as well as $1750 for the home-study fee, which we were not expecting. I proceeded to have a significant meltdown. We don't have money for this. We have to get money before we can even START the process and I want to start now!

We furiously wrote down every cent we had in savings and figured out ways to pull money from every possible place to figure out how to make this payment. We sent e-mails and text messages to our friends who had adopted or were in the process of adopting asking for information on how to get money from people. We looked into adoption grants and loans. We (well, mostly me) were panicking.

Before we went to sleep that night, Micah got a message back from a friend whose family has recently adopted two little girls from Swaziland. His message was helpful and insightful and ended by assuring Micah that they found as they moved forward in His plan for their family, God provided. In my head, I snickered and said, "Yeah..except I'm not asking Him for anything."

We went to bed having a rough plan of how we could throw together a $2000 payment. We were disheartened, but we had a plan.

The next morning, I called a friend who was going to write a letter of recommendation for us and I needed to double check her address. She asked how the process had been going so far and I told her about the panic that had crashed down the night before and how we were scrambling to find $2000 to send in for our initial payment.

There was quiet for a second and then she said, "OK. I'll be over later today with a check."

Stunned, I tried my best to stammer out some kind of response.

"Yep. We'd already decided to give you between $2000 and $4000 and if you need the money now, I'm bringing it over."

I told her I'd have to call her back, hung up the phone, sat down on the floor and burst into tears.

We didn't ask Him for anything. We couldn't. He provided anyway. Our sweet friends who have walked this difficult road with us wanted to be a part of helping us build our family and this was their opportunity. They took it without hesitation.

We didn't ask Him. He provided anyway. I couldn't believe it. I called Micah in hysterics. I had nowhere in all of my categories and ideas about God to put this new information. I called my friend and tried to explain what I knew she already understood.

This made me want to try to trust again.

I can see it. He's bringing all the pieces together, even now as we move forward with unsure steps. He's saving the life of a sweet child from somewhere who needs to be loved and He's saving my life too. The beautiful thing is that I know He's not just doing this for me.

This gift, this adoption it's not just about me, just as Lydia's life and death was not just about me. There are pieces here that I don't see and don't understand but He's fitting them together, making the broken things into something beautiful.

I'd be lying if I said I've been able to keep this perspective in the past weeks. I've still had my doubt and my anger to reckon with. But I saw it. For a brief, glorious moment, I could see it.

Here We Go

2011-01-29T16:01:00.002-05:00

This is now the fourth time I've started to write this entry. Every time I start I get utterly overwhelmed and can't finish. So, I've decided to break it down into parts. Today is part one and I'm just going to dive right in.

We've decided to adopt a baby. As I type this, there is an application and a check folded neatly into an addressed envelope, ready to be sent off to our adoption agency. Even now, weeks after we've decided to move forward, my heart races every time I think about it.

I've been going back and forth about writing about it here but I've finally come to a conclusion: We wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't for Lydia. In a very real way, she is the inspiration. Until she was born, I never knew how much I loved being someone's mother and I never knew how amazing Micah was at being a father. Those were gifts she gave to us and now we feel like it's time to give that to someone else. This child, wherever they are now, will be loved exceedingly because Lydia taught us how to love. That is why I want to be able to talk about it here. Because whatever it is, she is a part of it still.

There are some incredible things that have already been happening in the wake of our decision but that will come in another post. Right now, we just want all of you who read and participate in our lives through this blog to know this. We would ask, as we have many times before, that you would lift us in prayer to the Lord as we begin to move forward.

Somewhere in the world (or maybe not even in the world yet) is a little person who is ours. We're ready to find them.

Winter River

2011-01-08T12:39:00.004-05:00

On Christmas day I walked through the woods. I cried and talked aloud to Lydia, to Jesus, to the cosmos in general. I wrote Lydia's name in the snow. It made me feel like the earth and sky wouldn't forget her.

I came to the river. I leaned up against the boathouse dock, closed my eyes and listened. At first, all there was was the sound of my breathing. Then, from somewhere deep in the water I heard a whooshing sound. The river was groaning - singing. It was beautiful and made something in my heart vibrate.

Even while frozen, the river was alive and singing.

In months, when the spring comes, the river will thaw and will be again a hospitable place for things to live and grow. It will move, and the song once in the depths will rise again to the surface to be heard by any who pass by.

My soul is the winter river. There are layers of ice sheltering my heart. Still, quiet, frozen. But somewhere in the deep places is a groaning song. I am alive. I am singing. And the spring will come.

8 Months, 8 Days

2011-01-05T12:03:00.003-05:00

Today our girl has been in heaven as many days as she was on the earth.

Tomorrow she will have been gone longer than she was here.

I don't even know what to do with that, but there it is.

Headbands

2010-12-17T08:43:00.004-05:00

In an attempt to feel closer to my girl who feels so far away, I've been wearing her headbands as bracelets.

It makes me feel a little better. And then a little worse. And then a little better again. It's not her. But it's something of hers I can have with me all the time. It's my way to bring her with me.

A Timely Gift

2010-12-06T21:45:00.006-05:00

Usually I love Christmas. It is my favorite time of year. We cut down a Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving and the house gets completely Christmased by the end of the day after Thanksgiving. Last year when Lydia was here was no exception. Difficult as it was, I wanted to fully enjoy the Christmas season with our little girl.

This year has been different. I've listened to no Christmas music, cut down no Christmas tree and decorated nothing. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I've been cursing at my television when cute family Christmas commercials come on and staring down anyone seeming remotely jolly about the Christmas season. But in the past couple days, the Christmasy feeling has been sneaking up on me. I start to think, "Well, maybe we'll get a tree this year and put up a few decorations" and then I start to get excited because I love the way our house looks when it's decorated. Then, as soon as I start to get a little happy, there's a catch in my throat. I don't want to celebrate this year without our girl. But then I do. But also I don't.

Today, we bit the bullet. We were out and about and decided to get a Christmas tree - just a small one that would require no re-arranging of the living room. It was simple, quick and easy. We got it home, got it set up and got the lights on it. I put up a few other decorations here and there and then got ready to do ornaments.

I wasn't looking forward to this. Tree decorating has always been a big thing for me. When I was growing up, it was a family event as we'd take out ornaments from years gone by...some really ugly ones we'd made, some with favorite cartoon characters. It's one of those traditions I'd always looked forward to doing with our children. Lydia, in the one Christmas she spent with us, managed to accrue several (I think six) ornaments. She should be here to put them up. The angry and sad was welling up, but decorating the tree was something I needed to do for myself, so I was going to do it.

Then, the doorbell rang. It was the mailman. He only rings the bell if there's something a little too big for the mailbox. There was a package for us. It was from the mother of a former student of mine. Inside was this beautiful thing.

It's a handmade, quilted ornament made from a pair of ladybug pajamas. These were some of our very favorite jammies that Lydia wore. Her friend Molly had a pair too.

I promptly burst into tears. Besides it being an incredibly sweet gesture and overwhelmingly thoughtful gift, it was something else altogether. Nothing could ever make Christmas without our girl OK. But this ornament, is a reminder to me. Despite my struggle to trust and follow Him now, the Savior of the world who came to die so I could live, He is still with me. He still sees me. He still loves me.

Trying to Find My Way

2010-11-12T00:11:00.003-05:00

Wrestling. It’s what I’ve been doing a lot of lately. I’m working hard to try and reconcile two things that don’t seem to want to be reconciled. God is love, yes. But there’s this other thing that rises up in my mind that also says God is...not hate...not evil...but maybe pain? Suffering? Everywhere I look I see that the two are inextricably connected. There is no great suffering unless there is great love.

I suppose at its core, I’m asking the age old question - why is there suffering? More specifically, though, I want to know why I have to suffer. Not that I feel I should be an exception to pain, I just want to understand.

These things are ever and always in the forefront of my mind. Dwelling on them has caused me to ask questions I’ve never asked and doubt things I’ve always had faith in. Is God really real? If He is, is He really as good and loving as I’ve always believed Him to be ? What gives Him the right to do with me whatever He wants? How do I trust Him when all of my trust has been shattered?

Even if I can answer all of these questions there is one that is ever lingering - Do I even want to follow Him? Wouldn’t it be so much easier to pretend like He doesn’t exist? That all of my pain is the result of science gone wrong and freakish, random chance?

It seems like it would just be so much easier. So much less agonizing over things I cannot comprehend.

It is difficult because I feel, ultimately, that I know what my conclusion will be. If I want to follow, all the struggle and frustration and anger really boil down to one thing: If I want to follow Him I have to accept that He is who He is whether I get it or not, He’s going to do what He’s going to do whether I like it or not. I sounds harsh, but notwithstanding His love and patience with my struggle, I have to get in line behind Him or walk way. Knowing that I do still desperately need Him, I know what my choice will be in the end. But it is a long and difficult road to get to the end and I feel somewhat trapped inside an endless maze.

I talk myself in circles, but I hope and believe that one day, like Alice in Wonderland, I’ll open up a before unseen door that will lead me at last to the glorious and freeing end of my struggles. Meanwhile, to find that door, I must keep talking and continue questioning. So, here goes.

This is what I know. I love God. He loves me. The purpose of my life is to know Him and glorify Him. By whatever means necessary He will work towards achieving that goal in my life. That is what I know. Now the circles begin.

I love God - most of the time. More than I love Him now I recognize my need for Him. I dislike that I have this need and very often wish that it was simply a need of my own devising. There are times I would gladly say, “I don’t really need Him. I’m only using Him as an excuse or a crutch.” I would love to say that. The problem is that I will always know, deep down, that I’m wrong. There is an emptiness in me that can only ever be filled by Him. I could pretend but I will always know the truth. I could hide from it for a time, but it would be time wasted, for I would always return to Him.

So. OK. Fine. That’s settled. I do now and will always need Him. I don’t love this, but it cannot be ignored.

Now, as to “He loves me.” This is simple and yet more difficult. There is Scripture that cannot be ignored, places where I am told over and over of His love. There are songs that resonate as truth to my soul that tell me of His love. There is all of my past and His many answers to prayers and expressions of love that serve as a reminder of this truth. There is the unavoidable fact that He sent His son to die for me - the greatest expression of love I could ever imagine. But more than that is the knowledge in the utter depth and dark places of my soul that He loves me. Every new day, every hour, moment and breath speak to me, whisper of His love for me.

Despite all of this (yes, I see my arrogance in even hinting that I could argue with all of this), there is an ever unmoving complication: He let my daughter die. He took her away and left me, like an amputee, limping and hobbling my way through the rest of my life.

When I look to Him now, I see the cause and source of great joy and sweet healing, but I also see the cause of my suffering. How can it be that He is both? How am I supposed to look to Him for healing when, as far as I can see (notwithstanding the sinful world I am part of) much of the responsibility for my life’s greatest pain rests squarely on His shoulders?

If it is love, I do not understand it. But whether I understand it or not, the evidence of His love cannot be ignored. So then, the love and the suffering must be able to be reconciled somehow. This, it seems, brings me to my final knowledge and the only explanation, however unsatisfying I might find it, that makes enough sense to fit. The purpose of my life is to know and glorify Him. I would add, too, that He wants me to know as much as I can the depth of His love for me.

If, as I believe, everything that I am and everything that happens to me is part of God's plan for me to know Him better and to glorify Him, it means that Lydia’s death and my current suffering was meant to teach me to know and love Him better and to give me opportunity to glorify Him. This feels impossible, but I cannot ignore it.

To stare at it and reduce it to its simplest terms, the question becomes this: Which do I want more - to know and glorify Him or to have my baby here and whole with me. I’ve struggled with this from before Lydia’s conception and indeed long before that. Always the same question - is He enough? The difficulty is that for every other time I said He was enough, it was a “victimless crime” in the sense that no one but me had to be sacrificed. If I never get married, You are enough. If I never get pregnant, You are enough. But...if You take away my girl...I don’t know.

I don’t want to accept it. To say He’s enough is to say that it’s OK that she suffered while she was on the earth, that I had to watch as she died in my arms, that I had to bury her sweet body in the ground and live my life without her.

None of that is OK with me.

But then, the love. Stubborn and belligerent as I am, it starts to seep in. He will do anything so that I will know Him better. His love for me is so great that He would let my child die so that I could understand another facet of Him that I have never known before - that He would let His child die so that He could show His love for me. And then, finally, I turn my eyes back to His face, I see tears in His eyes because He knows my grief. He suffered this great grief so that I could know Him...and to know me was enough of a reason for Him to watch His son die.

What I long to say though it feels like it costs me everything - if my child is dead and I must suffer that loss, God, You are enough - He says it about me. His child died and He suffered that loss and I was enough of a reason for Him to do that.

It’s staggering, the knowledge of His love. And deep in my soul I know and I understand it now in a way I never would have unless my own child had died. I feel so much like this should be it - the door out of the maze. But it seems it’s merely the door into another, smaller maze with a door to another smaller maze and on and on until when? Heaven, I guess, when the veil will be lifted from my eyes and I will see in full what I see now only in part.

It makes now so clear to me the longing in the words of the hymn... "Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight.”

Six Months

2010-10-28T09:35:00.002-04:00

Today is six months since our sweet girl went to be with Jesus. I have a lot of things I could say, but I don't really feel like talking. Instead, I'm posting a video. I watched almost all of the videos of her that we have this morning. I love remembering the sound of her breathing and the little movements she made and the sound of her little squeaks, even if they were seizure induced.

The video is a little out of focus but you still get the overall adorableness.

Lydia from Jen Thompson on Vimeo.

The Room

2010-10-20T10:16:00.005-04:00

I've been thinking a lot about when the right time is to change Lydia's room into something else. In eight days, it will be six months since she left us. So far, I've only done a few little things. My dad got me a beautiful cedar chest to keep some of her things in. I've cleaned out her dresser and closet of all her clothes and separated them. Some clothes I donated or gave to friends. Some I put in bins to keep for other possible children. Some I gave to Micah's mom who is going to make me a quilt from them. And some I've packed into boxes and put into the cedar chest. Doing her clothes wasn't too bad, because I know that if she were here and healthy, I would eventually go through all of her clothes and do the same thing.

The rest of the room is proving more challenging. I love her room. It was a joyfully laborious process to pick every little thing out - paint colors, furniture, quilts - it is my favorite room in the house. But I know it can't stay the way it is. I also know that to change it all at one time would probably be my undoing. I've started a process - I keep a small box on the changing table in her room. When I'm feeling strong, I go in and put something into the box that I want to keep for her. Once the box is full, I'll put it into the cedar chest.

Before I started this process, however, I decided that I needed to take some pictures of her room. I can't imagine ever forgetting how her room looked, but I took some anyway, just to make sure. I wanted to share some of them with you.

This Weekend

2010-10-11T20:41:00.006-04:00

This weekend we went to the farm in Maine. My favorite place. We brought Lydia there last Christmas and this was the first time we'd been back since she died. We had a wonderful time cleaning the barn, making apple cider and spending time together. As ever when the family is all together, I'm acutely aware that she is missing. But, I carry her memory in my heart and keep her name around my neck. I wandered up to the big open field and took a few minutes to be sad and to make her part of my weekend in the small way I could.

And my sweet Grandpa Roy and Grandma Flo gave me a pumpkin picked from their garden to bring home to Lydia. Don't you love the curly stem?

On a somewhat related note, if you think of it, please pray for my Grandpa Roy tomorrow. He has his first round of many, many rounds of chemo. Pray for strength, health and good days for them both.

Anger

2010-09-30T15:13:00.000-04:00

Perhaps you’ve noticed I haven’t been writing here lately...a smattering of whatever now and then but nothing really besides that. This is my fourth attempt at writing a post about what’s been happening here and I’ve made up my mind not to get up until I post something...except to get my tea.

OK. Tea acquired. Here we go.

How I’ve been lately can really be summed up in one word: angry. Part of the reason I’ve had such a difficult time writing lately is that my anger tends to come out all whiny and feeling sorry for myself. That’s not how I feel, but often it’s how it sounds. I make a slew of “I” statements (I feel sad. I feel angry. I feel like I want to take a sledgehammer to my whole house and start over somewhere else) and it all sounds like complaining. I don’t want to complain. OK. Well. Sometimes I want to complain. But I hope that’s not what you’ll hear.

What I’m feeling now is the kind of anger towards something that happens that you know had to happen but you didn’t want it to and you can’t change it. I know Lydia had to die. I didn’t want her to and I can’t change the fact that she’s not here. Of course, I wouldn’t bring her back now to suffer in this world, but sometimes I think I’d give everything I have just to kiss her one more time. The fact that I can’t and the fact that I don’t understand why I can’t makes me angry - deeply, soul crushingly angry.

That anger is naturally (and unfortunately) directed at God. I point my finger and say, “You did this. You took her. This was YOUR plan.” It’s not pretty. It’s not right. But it’s what it is. I just can’t understand it.

We were speaking with our counselor the other day and he put words to something I have been feeling but haven’t had words for. We were talking about how when Lydia was alive, it was so much easier to claim and hold on to the true things. God gave us the exact child He wanted us to have .She was created the way God wanted her to be. She was made for a purpose. He would use her life for His good. He would bring glory to Himself. It was so easy, when looking at my girl who had one foot in heaven all the time she was here, to believe these things. There was a purpose. I knew there had to be a purpose.

But now as every day goes by and I get further and further away from remembering the sound of her breathing or her scent, I cannot see the purpose. I see it in the past when I think of her and what we went through, but now as the emptiness stretches out in front of me, I cannot see a purpose in my emptiness. How could there be purpose in such a wretched, broken feeling?

And there’s more too. I want so much the feeling of closeness with my Savior. I want to be comforted. I don’t want to be angry. But it’s just not that easy. Now we have all of our future ahead of us. Before Lydia was conceived, we gave all of our planning and the life of our future child into His hands. When I was pregnant, we gave her life to Him. When her brain wasn’t perfect and we weren’t sure, we committed her again to His keeping.

Then, when she was born, everyday we gave her back to God, believing He had her best and ours in mind. And He took her. We offered her up and He took her. I don’t know why this surprised me or makes me angry now, but I guess I thought all along He wouldn’t take her. Now, as we look into the future, trying to understand what to do next, I don’t really want Him to have any part of it. We gave Him Lydia’s life and He took her away from us. Does He honestly expect that I’ll trust Him now? Seriously?

It’s so complicated. Even in the middle of my anger, I still know the truth. I know, in the end, we cannot go forward unless He goes with us. I will not find answers unless He provides them. I will not know peace or healing unless I let Him near me. I have no other hope but Him.

Sometimes it seems like a cruel joke that the source of our suffering and the healing from it should come from the same place. Cruel too that so often our healing only comes from more pain.

At the end of the day, after I’ve fought and cried my hardest and demand and beg for an answer, when the calm comes again I understand only that I don’t understand. In those moments, I utter the only prayer I’ve been able to pray for the last months.

Help me believe.

A Stone for Lydia

2010-09-20T12:14:00.004-04:00

My friend Megan, who has walked through her own painful time with the loss of her son, wrote Lydia's (and many other babies' in heaven) name on a stone. She sent me some pictures and I wanted to share one of them with you.

To have Lydia's name spoken or written does something in my heart that I can't explain. Thank you, friend, for remembering our girl.

Respite Retreat

2010-09-08T15:31:00.004-04:00

The past week or so has been difficult. Getting back into the swing of work (which, turns out, is hard to do when you only have teach three days of school in two weeks) has me pretty wiped out, despite being only part time. I will say, the first day of school was lovely. I don't know that I've ever felt more appreciated, so thanks to all students and teachers who made the day a heck of a lot better than I thought it would be. Of course, I cried like a loon when I got home, but come on. You expect it at this point.

There's been a lot of angry lately. Hope feels far and it's gotten easy to forget the times and ways that God has been faithful to me. Especially easy when I start to think that the God who loves me plays a significant role in my pain. How can I trust someone who has had a hand in my pain? I don't know. I don't know how to work it all out. I know I will, I just don't know how.

That's why this past weekend was a gift. Micah and I went down to Nashville, TN for a retreat run by David and Nancy Guthrie. It was a retreat just for parents who had lost a child. Here are the eleven wonderful couples that we got to meet and spend time with.

There were many wonderful things about the weekend. The most looked forward to was that we got to meet Jen and Kent. Lilly and Lydia were born two weeks apart and went to heaven two weeks apart, both from Zellweger Syndrome. Jen found this blog when Lilly was three months old and we've been e-mail and phone friends ever since. To see her IN REAL LIFE was fantastic.

In addition to meeting them, we met these ten couples. I can't explain to you the blessing it is to sit in a room full of people and look into their eyes, knowing they understand the kind of broken my heart is. The first night we were there and the beginning of the next morning we told the stories of our children. It was the first time that we told Lydia's story, specifically the end of it, all the way through. These dear people laughed and cried with us as we told about our beautiful girl and at the end, we prayed thanking God for Lydia's life.

I didn't have a big breakthrough, but I had many small moments of understanding that I haven't had before. As we talked, I realized how blessed we are to have people around us who miss Lydia, who speak of her, who care that she's not here anymore. It hadn't occurred to me that it could be any other way - that people's families don't care or speak of their child after they die. I'm surrounded by people who loved our girl and who love her still, though she's not here. Sometimes it's difficult to navigate other people's feelings about Lydia's death, but this time made me realize that whether or not I always appreciate how people express the fact that the miss her, I am so so so grateful that they miss her at all.

I was thankful to be reminded again that this huge pain won't last forever. As it is now, I still cry all the time and church is still unbearably painful. I sat across the dinner table one night from Jill. Knowing she was further down this grief road that I, I asked her if she hated going to church. She told me she did, but that it eventually got better. I think I know this practically, but it seems so far away that it's hard to focus in on anything but how it feels now. Thanks, Jill, for reminding me that the dark days aren't forever.

During times and talks with Nancy and David, I was reminded again about the patience of my Savior. Though I know I'm acting like a child who is screaming and screaming and refusing to be consoled, I know that I am being held tightly. I know that no matter how long I rage, He's not going to put me down. He will stay until I'm comforted.

I was thankful to remember again that I am not alone. One of the greatest tools of the enemy is the belief that this pain secludes me from the rest of the world. Eleven other couples, twenty-two other people have walked this road. They still walk it. They are not defeated. If you are reading this, please know how your strength has encouraged me. You have kept going when you didn't want to. I know that I can too. You have found Christ in the midst of your sorrow. I know I can too.

Nancy said it best - better days are coming. I will hold on until they do.

Tomorrow

2010-08-31T15:36:00.003-04:00

Tomorrow is a big day. Tomorrow, I go back to work.

I am nervous and excited and petrified and horrified and sad and OK all at the same time. More than anything right now, I'm so thankful for how many people have told me how excited they are that I'm going back to teach. I'm living off other people's excitement and encouragement right now.

My brain isn't quite in the "back to work" place yet. Today, my mom said to me, "Let me know how things go tomorrow," and my response was, "Why? What's tomorrow?" I hope I don't forget to go.

On Moving Forward

2010-08-23T18:03:00.002-04:00

Well, I'm going back to work in less than a week. I wasn't sure until a week ago if would, but things have fallen into place and I'll be teaching part time this year. I had some long discussions and some late nights trying to make a decision. I'm a horrible decision maker in general, and this one was particularly difficult.

How do I go back to the place where I worked before Lydia was born and not have it feel like she was never here? It feels like that often enough but staying quiet and sad in my house reminds me that I have something to be quiet and sad about. To go back to work threatens to feel like pretending nothing ever happened.

I weighed the pros and cons with several of the very wise people in my life. At one point I had decided 100% to go back. Three hours later, I knew it would kill me if I went back. The next morning, I talked to Nancy and finally felt a measure of peace about going back. Turns out, you shouldn't try to make huge life decisions at 2am. Lesson learned.

Nancy and I spoke about the importance of moving forward. She told me moving forward is not moving on - moving on is to leave behind Lydia and all that she meant. Moving forward is to bring Lydia and the past year of my life along with me and to figure out what life means now.

I won't lie. Moving forward is a scary thing. I've liked this quiet, safe, alone time where I only had to let in the few people I really felt like being with and could shut the rest of the world out without much care. I know I can't stay there and I know the longer I do, the harder it will be to ever get out.

So, I'm moving forward. There won't still be bad days (much like today, in fact) but I need to keep going. I need to fix my eyes on Jesus and move forward, towards Him and in His plan.

In another forward moving attempt, I've started another blog. This blog is for Lydia and for me dealing with God and with Lydia things. It's important to me and I won't stop writing here. But there are more things going on now and my desire for creative outlet is increasing and (for better or worse), those are things I feel I want to share too. I truly believe it's part of my healing but I don't want to use this space to share pictures of other children or of things I've made that have no connection to Lydia. I want this space to remain hers and mine for now. So, I've started a blog to share the creative things (baking, felting, photographing) I've been doing.

I titled the blog Make Me New.

"And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of
God is with men, and He will live with them.
They will be His people, and God Himself will be
with them and be their God.
He will wipe every tear from their eyes.
There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain,
for the old order of things has passed away."
He who was seated on the throne said,
"I am making everything new!"

Revelation 21:3-5

This isn't the new heaven and new earth yet, but I know He is working now as I look ahead to the day when my tears will be wiped away. Until then, I'll bake. I'll felt. I'll take pictures. I'll teach. I'll keep moving forward.

Happy Birthday, Baby

2010-08-20T00:24:00.000-04:00

Today would have been Lydia's first birthday. I won't try to explain here what that means or how I feel about it. I just wanted to post pictures - one from each month birthday we had her with us. Even though she's not here now and my heart is broken, the remains of my heart that are awaiting healing beat over and over with these words - she was here.

Even though I will cry and wish I could see her smoosh a cupcake all over her sweet little face, I will celebrate all that she was and all that we had when she was here. And I will do my best to celebrate all that she is and all that she has now.

Lydia's Tomatoes

2010-08-14T14:17:00.002-04:00

You might remember the post where Micah and Lydia planted seeds to grow in our garden. The garden has been flourishing and I wanted to share with you a couple pictures of Lydia's tomatoes.

Lydia didn't plant the sunflower, but everyone loves a nice sunflower picture.

Thanks to everyone who prayed for my Grandpa Roy. He should be going home from the hospital today. If you would, please pray for his recovery. He'll have more treatment ahead of him after he recovers from surgery, but right now recovery is the goal.

Prayer Request

2010-08-06T01:20:00.004-04:00

I wanted to ask all you pray-ers out there to please pray for my Grandpa Roy today. He's having surgery to remove a tumor in his colon. Please pray for wisdom and guidance for the doctors, for a quick recovery and for peace that passes understanding for him and my Grandma Flo, his wife. This is a picture of them with Lydia from her baptism. It's one of my favorite, favorite pictures.

I love you both so very much.

Triathlon COMPLETED!

2010-08-01T17:39:00.002-04:00

Liz finished the triathlon today! Head over to her blog for more pictures and her story about the day! Love you Liz and am so thankful for you.

Busy Busy

2010-07-31T19:27:00.004-04:00

The past couple of weeks have been very busy. Last weekend, I went to New Jersey with my friend Carissa to spend time with some of our other college friends Megan, Sarah and Shelly. I've been debating putting up pictures here, as this was always a place for pictures of Lydia or having to do with Lydia. But I love taking pictures and I love sharing my pictures. My friend Olivia told me that I should most definitely put them up here because having fun with people you love is part of healing. So...here you go. A little bit of healing for me.

Waiting for Shelly and baby Addyson to arrive on the ferry,
the girls took a picture with a...pirate?

We went to a tea house and Sarah and Shelly were feeling
photogenic with their teapots.

Sweet baby Addyson was very well behaved during tea.

After tea, we took a stroll through Cape May.

Carissa playing with Josiah.

Molly Molly Molly.

This woman is one awesome mama.

We went down the street to Megan's parent's house, which is also the most wonderful and amazing Swan Bay Folk Art Center. If you're ever in
South Jersey, you should check it out!

There are so many wonderful things to see. There are sheep, colonial art lessons of various kinds (including felting with wool from the sheep!), basket making and more. Megan's dad also has an old time garage and gas station, complete with old cars whose awesomeness I cannot begin to explain, and hats to dress up with so you fit in with the cars.

The weekend was lovely. It was hard at times and I won't say I didn't cry, but it was moving forward. I know I can't hide forever, and I'm so thankful for such sweet friends who are so careful with me.

This weekend, my sister Allison and her husband Josiah moved into a new house in Philly. We spent the past couple days helping them move, unpack, assemble, and make their house into a home. I didn't take any pictures because I was too exhausted at the end of each day, but it is a beautiful house.

All that said, two packed weekends in a row, I'm ready to not leave my house for the next several days. Or weeks. Possibly months.

I hope you'll all keep my sister-in-law Liz in your prayers tomorrow. Her triathlon is tomorrow. Good luck, Liz! I know you'll do wonderfully and I can't wait to hear how it all goes!

Three

2010-07-28T11:47:00.003-04:00

I remember my affliction
and my wandering, the
wormwood and
bitterness.
Surely my soul
remembers
And is bowed down within me.
This I recall to my mind,
Therefore I have hope.
The LORD's
lovingkindnesses
indeed never cease,
For His compassions never fail.
They are new every
morning;
Great is Your faithfulness.
"The LORD is my portion,"
says my soul,
"Therefore I have hope in
Him."

I won't lie. I've been choking out the last half of those verses these days. I say choking because this past month, I've felt more in the grip of my afflictions than I have yet. It's like hands around my throat, all the time, strangling me into submission...into letting the grief swallow me up. It would be so easy to just let it. To stop fighting. To stop getting up every morning. To stop going out. To stop loving people. To stop caring what happens to anyone but myself. To shut the world that moves on without my girl and to live alone here in my house where I can make time stand still. It would be so much easier.

But just as I feel myself ready to give up the struggle and let the hands of grief stop my breath, something in me starts to scream and I'm able to choke out the words,

His lovingkindnesses never cease.
Therefore I have hope in Him.

Every time I say it, I weep. I gasp and cry and the hands back away from my throat. I sob as the truth sets in. It doesn't make it better now. But it keeps me going.

So, I keep going. I will keep going.

For the LORD will not
reject forever,
For if He causes grief,
Then he will have compassion
According to His abundant
lovingkindness.

Mural

2010-07-19T10:07:00.004-04:00

Last week, we were asked to stop over at CHS by a some students who said they had something they wanted to show us. When we arrived, they walked us down to what was previously my classroom. A small group of students were gathered outside the door. They told us that they wanted to have something in the school that was a memory of Lydia.

This is what they made.

The kids at this school are the reason I loved to teach. They are the reason I would ever want to teach again. And they're the reason we decided to have a fund in Lydia's name at the school, so that there can be more opportunity for more wonderful people to be a part of such a wonderful community. If you haven't already, I hope you'll consider buying a Lydia Pin and donate to the fund at CHS.

All of you beautiful, wonderful people who helped make this incredible gift - thank you. Thank you for loving our girl and wanting her to be remembered in the school. Thank you for loving us and reminding us that she's in her true home now. We love and are so thankful for you all.

Ezra 3:11-13

2010-07-14T07:57:00.003-04:00

Several weeks ago, I was having a series of dark days in a row. In a desperate moment, as I was sitting talking with my friend Lisa, I uttered the words, "I wonder if I'll ever be happy again." It was an honest enough thing to say to define how I was feeling. I continued to muse out loud that I supposed whether or not I would be happy had everything to do with how I went about defining happiness.

Wise woman/Bible scholar that she is, Lisa recommended that I attempt doing a word study. I scoffed at her idea. Yes, let me do a word study, I though. I can already tell you what I'll find out. I'm supposed to look for my joy and contentment in Christ. If I try to find it in anything else I will be disappointed. There. I'm a good Christian girl and I already know what's there to be found.

She smiled and said that it's not always about what you find. It's about what you learn in the process.

The next day, I picked up my Bible, sat down at my computer with biblegateway.com at the ready. I thought for a second about what word to start with. Now, I don't actually know how to do an official word study, so I was just making things up as I went along. Since my initial question was regarding happiness, I started there. As I suspected, there wasn't much that was helpful to me there. I tried joy/rejoicing next. I found several interesting things. The one that most caught me was Ezra 3:11-13.

Now, other than a little here and there during high school and college, I haven't really had any interaction with Ezra. Even if I had, I probably wouldn't have responded to these verses in the same way then as I did when I read them a couple weeks ago.

To give a little context (and again, I'm no Bible scholar so forgive me if any of this is woefully inaccurate), the Israelites had been slaves in a foreign land for many years. Finally, as some of the Israelites had gotten into the good graces of the king, he allowed them to return to Israel after many years of captivity to begin to rebuild the city of Jerusalem and the temple, both of which had been destroyed.

In these verses, the people had just laid the first stones for the new temple.

Ezra 3:11-13

They sang, praising and giving thanks to the LORD saying, “For He is good, for HIs lovingkindness is upon Israel forever.” And all the people shouted with a great shout when they raised the LORD because the foundation of the house of the LORD was laid. Yet many of the priests and Levites and heads of fathers’ households, the old men who had seen the first temple, wept with a loud voice when the foundation of this house was laid before their eyes, while many shouted aloud for joy, so that the people could not distinguish the sound of joy from the sound of the weeping of the people, for the people shouted with a loud shout, and the sound was heard far away.

Now, this didn't particularly have anything to do with the joy I am attempting to find in life right now, but it offered a different perspective. This thought has rolled around in my head but it is so succinctly put here that I haven't been able to keep this verse out of my head since I read it.

Grief and joy. They go together.

It is right and good that there should have been shouts of rejoicing from the people as the new foundation was built for the temple. Part of you would think that there should only be shouts of joy and that there is really no cause for the cries of sorrow that accompany it. But these men who were weeping at the former glory of the temple were the ones that saw it destroyed. They were lead away from a broken city, a ruined house of God into slavery not knowing when or if they would ever return. They remembered how things had been, and were grieved that they were not that way still.

In the midst of their weeping, shouts of joy were being raised at the same time, albeit by different voices. These were the shouts of men who knew that there would be glory again in Jerusalem - that God would live in the temple again. They were the shouts of possibility and praise for a new beginning.

The cries of sorrow for what has been lost and the shouts of joy for the new work being done were indistinguishable. The one is irrevocably linked to the other.

In every new thing that happens without Lydia here, there is potential for sorrow. It's a sorrow so deep that some days, it stops me in my tracks, wishing the earth would open up and swallow me whole. It's a sorrow that remembers the hope of what was, the joy of what has been taken away, and forces out of me a wild cry of pain for what has been lost.

But, there is in every new thing the potential for joy as well. In every new opportunity, in every new day, in every new life there is an opportunity to allow a shout of joy to rise up in me.

There isn't one without the other anymore, and that's a wonderful and terrible thing. With great sorrow comes the possibility for abounding joy. The deep, expansive places that sorrow has left empty, joy would fill and flood over and over again.

But that's a choice I have to make. I didn't ask for this pain, but I have a choice of what to do with it now that it is part of me.

I have to be the man who covered his face and wept for the temple he remembered from his youth and I have to be the man dancing in the street, proclaiming God's lovingkindness for me. Granted, it makes for one emotionally unstable looking person, but I think it's right. There is no deep sorrow unless there has been a loss of great joy. There is no great joy unless you have known deep sorrow. Angie Smith calls it, "The Sacred Dance of Grief and Joy."

It doesn't entirely answer my initial question, but as always, it gives perspective. I will be happy again, but it won't be the kind of happy that I've known before. It won't be the easy, carefree, happy-go-lucky type of happiness. It's something deeper that comes from knowing how quickly we can lose the things we love the most. It isn't the kind of knowledge I'd have wished for, but I have it now and I can't give it back.

Instead, I want to learn to live my life in remembrance of these things. I know that because I have suffered, I have now an even greater capacity to be joyful and to love and to celebrate. Always, I will wish that my sweet girl was here to share these things with me and always I will be thankful that her life taught me these things. Though there is the possibility for endless emptiness in a life without her here, there is also the possibility for a life of endless fullness because she was here at all.

For my part, I would rather honor the life that God gave her by living a life of joy. I don't know exactly what that means or how I'm going to do it, but I want to try.

The Lydia Pin

2010-07-04T23:06:00.002-04:00

Speaking of awesome people doing awesome things...

My dear friend Megan, when she heard about Liz doing the triathlon, decided she wanted to use her talents to do something to help raise money for Lydia's fund at CHS too. Link over to her blog and read about her new project - The Lydia Pin.

Thanks, Megan. Love you, friend.

Running the Race

2010-07-02T09:26:00.002-04:00

This is my sister-in-law, Liz. To say that she is awesome would be an understatement. Shortly after Lydia's death, Liz decided that she wanted to do something that would honor the life of our girl and bring glory to God. This week, she started a blog to chronicle that journey and to ask for support in whatever way you choose to give it. The beginning of her story can be found here at her new blog.

I hope that you'll check it out.

I love you, Liz.

Headstone

2010-07-01T16:44:00.003-04:00

Lydia's headstone was placed at the cemetery today. I've been anticipating this, expecting to feel a sense of relief at the stone's arrival - relief that the last piece was in place, that everything was complete.

I don't feel relieved. I feel wretched.

It's permanent now. She won't come back to me. I know that it was permanent before, but there's something now that marks the permanence.

My fingers traced the letters of her name, her birth and death days. Finally they traced the words we had engraved there - Safe in His arms.

Now, as I sit quietly attempting to cope again with the ache that has taken up permanent residence in me, the same words echo softly but steadily in my heart, as they did on the day we buried her.

Death is swallowed up in victory.

6 Years

2010-06-26T14:36:00.003-04:00

I'll spare you all the queasy lovey-dovey shenanigans but I just need to publicly recognize that six years ago today, Micah and I became husband and wife.

These six years have been nothing like I expected, but there's not another man in the world that I would rather have walked through these years with.

And what do all the great words come to in the end but this?
I love you -- I am at rest with you -- I have come home.
~Dorothy Sayers~

Project

2010-06-21T20:02:00.003-04:00

In the week after Lydia's death, Micah and I went and spent some time hiding away in Maine. We have some dear friends who have a cottage right on the water. We spent the days sleeping and reading. When we weren't sleeping or reading, we were walking the beach. As we took a walk the last night we were there, I started gathering rocks and shoving them into the pocket of my hoodie. Once my pocket was full, I started handing them to Micah. All told, I think I got five pretty large rocks.

Now, I'm not a crafty lady. I have my moments of inspiration but I don't really have the patience for intricate, time consuming projects. The plan I had for these rocks was very simple. I wanted to write on them things that were important to me, always to remember the meaning of these words in my life. And I wanted to write them on these rocks, gathered at the beach days after I buried my child because I knew then, as I diligently searched for the right rocks, that holding on to these things in the days to come would be important. In the clear moments of that week, I could see far enough down the road to know that I would need reminding.

So, a couple weeks ago, I finally finished my project.

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for
and certain of what we do not see.
Hebrews 11:1

Though He slay me,
yet will I hope in Him.
Job 13:15

Love does not delight in evil,
but rejoices in the truth
1 Corinthians 13:6.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love.
But the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:13

Comments and Rambling

2010-06-17T13:45:00.004-04:00

Despite the fact that I haven't written in a while, I'm going to start monitoring comments. I've been getting several spam comments per post and I don't want you to have to deal with those and I don't want to deal with them. So, I hope you'll still comment - the comments will be e-mailed to me and I'm pretty sure I'll post all of them as long as they don't link to something horrifying.

I haven't felt too much like writing these days. I'm low. I'm crying a lot. I don't want to talk to people. I don't want to read. I don't want to write...at least not right now. I force myself to do most of those things most days, but writing is the one thing I just don't have the drive to do.

I'm finding I have a lot less to say right now. I'm daily trying to remind myself of the truths I know and have written down before. The thing I've discovered again and again is that the truth just doesn't even remotely change how I feel. I'm thankful for the truths. I believe the truths and they do change something about how I deal and live my life now. But the truth can't take away my pain. It doesn't put my sweet blue-eyed girl back into my arms or fill the gaping hole that she left behind.

And this! I don't want my blog to be about how awful I feel since Lydia died. I don't want this to be a place where all I do is bemoan the tragedy of my life. But it's all I'm feeling right now. I don't want to talk right now about the goodness of God or the ways in which He daily bears my burdens because it takes all I have in me to claim right now that those things are true. I don't think it's weakness to share these things, but I don't want this blog to be some horrible tale of what happens to women when their babies die. I don't want to be someone who strikes fear into the hearts of other mom's who have children who can't live. I want to encourage. I want to bless. But I want to be honest too.

I know I'm going to get out of this dark place, I just don't know when. So, if I hide for a while, I hope that's OK. If I ramble on about how much I hate everything, I hope that's OK too.

That's that.

One day I wrote her name...

2010-06-07T20:15:00.003-04:00

We were at the beach this past weekend and I kept thinking about this poem by Edward Spenser. There is a beautiful website that does this for parents who have lost their children, but I wanted to do it for myself. And for my girl.

It's not perfect, but I like it.

Moments of Clarity

2010-06-02T10:31:00.003-04:00

God is good. In the midst of my sorrow and my times of weeping for what I've lost, there are moments of clarity when I can look at my life, my situation, and see things for what they truly are. Now, we all may have a different idea about what "true" is. But for those of you who have been reading my blog for a while, you know that for me, true is Jesus. Truth is looking at my life through a lens of the eternal, knowing that what I do and what happens to me has more to it than just what I can see on the earth.

I had a moment of clarity last week. I went to visit a friend of mine who has a daughter currently suffering from a fatal syndrome. Her body is degenerating. She is in pain. We have been able to have many honest conversations about where God is in the midst of these things and I always walk away from the time with something to think about or be thankful for.

Last week, we were having lunch along with my friend's oldest daughter. We were discussing the purpose of what we suffer and the frustration that comes when people say, "Your situation has taught me..." or "I've learned......from your difficult times." There's a real sense that we all recognize in which you just want to look at them and say in the most sarcastic voice you have, "I'm SO glad that MY horrible life is doing something for YOU." In my humanness, I confess, that is often my response. When I'm having a particularly good day and can think and see clearly, I can look at these kinds of comments and say, "Thank you God for using me." I don't always like it. I don't always understand it. But I've been able to come to the conclusion that says if my life and sufferings, or Lydia's life and sufferings can play a bigger part in bringing people to knowing Jesus, I'll take it.

Again, I keep this perspective as often as I can. There may very well be a time you come up to me and tell me that and I'll say, "That's great and all but can you learn from something else and I get my baby back? Thanks."

We spent a while talking about that and later went to the living room so my friend could sit and hold her daughter who was in so much pain that putting her down was out of the question. As we sat quietly together, she looked at me and said the words that I said in my heart and with my mouth so many times as I watched Lydia seize, "I cannot stand that God allows her to suffer like this."

It's so difficult to reconcile this thing to God's goodness. The allowance of pain in general is difficult. I am much more ready to accept my own suffering than to watch my child suffer in a way I can't understand - I think that would be true of any mother. I can take God using the situation to teach people. I can accept that death is coming. But I cannot accept the suffering. The question "How can You do this?" was often on my lips. How can He make my child suffer in this way and make me watch as she does?

I don't remember exactly when the answer was whispered softly to my heart, but I remember the realization clearly.

He let His only child suffer. He watched as His only Son died. Yes, He knew the plan. Yes, He knew what the end goal would be. But I know it didn't hurt Him any less. He knew the pain of being separated from His child. And He allowed Himself to know that pain for me.

Of all the hurt that God has ever known, I always forget that He has known this one more deeply than I can understand. He knows, HE KNOWS how I feel. And no, it doesn't make me hurt any less because He knows how I feel but, oh, the comfort it brings me to know that He understands my broken heart.

He knows how it feels to watch the child that you love beyond words struggle to breathe. He knows how it feels to watch as that child takes it's last breath. He understands the deep pain of separation.

It doesn't fix it. But it changes something in me. I'm not desperately clinging to a God who has never experienced the death of a child. He knows. When no else can understand the groaning in my heart, He knows. And just as God always knew what Jesus' life and death was destined to do and so willingly sent His son to willingly die for me, so I can stand and say, with a little more courage each time, that I know the life and death of my child means more than just her life and her death. Obviously, Lydia is not Jesus, nor will her life and death ever, ever mean what His did. But if God could send His son (His SON, people. A perfect, perfect being) to suffer and die to bring life to the world, what excuse do I have to want to hold Lydia back and say, "No. You can't use her life and death for something else"?

Please, please don't think that I'm saying this out of an attempt for mock holiness or spirituality. I wrestle with this. I fight with God. I yell. I curse. I am indignant. HOW DARE HE?! And I don't understand. Even as I try so feebly to put all of these thoughts to words, I still don't really understand them all, nor do I like them.

But I know the truth. I KNOW THE TRUTH. And the truth is, my life, my death, your life, your death, Lydia's life, Lydia's death, Jesus' life and His death - it's all to point people to God. And if God wouldn't hold on to His own Son and would choose to watch Him suffer and die so that others could know Him, what argument do I really have?

That is one moment of clarity. Talk to me tomorrow and I'll say something completely the opposite of all of that.

One

2010-05-29T10:21:00.002-04:00

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.

Back to Church

2010-05-17T21:40:00.002-04:00

Yesterday I went to church. It was the first time since we brought Lydia home from the hospital that I went to church without her. Granted, I didn't go to church often. The amount of stuff that had to come with us everywhere we went, not to mention the fact that if she had seizures she made a lot of noise, and the fact that (despite the kindness of people at church) I couldn't help but feel like a spectacle whenever we went, made it so that over the course of Lydia's life, I think I went to church five or six times. Kind family members offered to stay with her so that I could go to church with Micah, but I couldn't. If I couldn't bring her, I didn't want to go. I didn't want to have to deal with all of what I knew would be waiting at church without her.

Yesterday, I went to church without her. On the way there, I started to get that tight feeling in my chest. In A Grief Observed, Lewis talks about how he never knew that grief felt so like fear. That feeling and I are becoming fast acquainted with each other. When we arrived at church, I started to get the inside shaky feeling...you know the one. You try to take a breath and you can literally feel all of your insides quaking at whatever it is that's about to happen.

Got out of the car, walked to the door. Took my bulletin with a smile, entered the auditorium, hugged a few people (still holding it together), picked a row, took a deep breath, sat down and started to cry. With the exception of fifteen or so minutes at the beginning of the sermon, I cried the entire service.

Of course, OF COURSE we would sing about the holiness of God. Of course the songs would repeat the attributes of God including His kindness, mercy and love for us. I thought I would cry as I recognized the overwhelming truth in the midst of my difficult circumstances, and at times I did. But I cried for another very unexpected reason.

Every time we sang about God's mercy, a voice in my head said, "Well, if God was really merciful, your baby wouldn't be dead." As we sang about God's kindness, I heard, "Kind? He's making you suffer. How kind is that?" When we proclaimed His love for us, I heard, "Are you kidding me with this? Love? What kind of love would force you to watch your child die?"

The devil. People, he's a sneaky bastard.

I know that God is merciful. I know that in His mercy He allowed Lydia to live and grow in my body long enough to be born. I know that in His mercy, He freed her spirit from her broken body when it was His time. I know that God is kind. In His kindness, He allowed us to keep her on earth for 251 days. Out of kindness, He allowed us to be together the day He took her home. I know that God is love. Because of His great love for me, I will see my girl again. Because of His love, He watched His own child die.

I know. I know. I know.

But my baby is still dead. My heart is still broken. His mercy, His kindness and His love doesn't magically fix that.

So I cried. And my dear friends sat with me and held my hands as I cried. They proclaimed the mercy and kindness and love of God when my heart couldn't feel them and my mouth couldn't even begin to form the words. They did it for me and did it without question. How thankful I am for the body of Christ.

It was a step. I'll take another one next week. Maybe next week, I'll be able to sing all the things I know to be true. Maybe not. But that will be OK, because even though I don't feel the truth of anything I've always known, I still know it. Even though I can't open my mouth to declare the mercy, kindness or love of God, it's OK. My brothers and sisters will be there to do it for me until I can do it again.

Fear and Faith

2010-05-13T21:04:00.002-04:00

Grief is a funny thing. I've been describing it like there's a switch somewhere out there that is not controlled by me. I'll be merrily(ish) walking around or reading, minding my own business and then *FLIP* The pain of it all takes my breath. It sneaks up and there are moments I can see it, hovering, waiting to swallow me up. Sometimes I let it. Sometimes I force my mind to think of other things so I can keep it together. All the time I feel an ache in my chest that misses so much the feeling of her soft body pressed into it.

I've been experiencing the full spectrum of emotions. I'm angry. I'm thankful. I'm sad. I'm happy(ish). I want to be alone. I want people around me all the time. I appreciate what people say to try to comfort me. I want to punch every single person who talks to me in the face.

One emotion that I was unprepared for, that has slowly started to seep in and all around my thoughts, is fear. In moments of clarity today, when I could see things for what they really are, I've wanted to talk about it. I believe so much that if I talk about it, I can see it for what it is. If I can see it for what it is, I can allow myself to deal with the truth. So, here's the truth, people.

I've never been to heaven. I've never seen what Jesus looks like. I believe there is a heaven. I believe that Jesus is there and that He is all of the things I have read and learned that He is. But I've never been to heaven. And I've never seen what Jesus looks like.

I had to send my eight month old daughter to a place I've never been and to a man whose face I've never seen. So, while I know Lydia is safe in heaven with Jesus (and I greatly appreciate the people who remind me of this), every now and then I start to feel afraid. Because I don't know what it really means that she's in heaven. And while I believe that wherever she is she is safe and whole and happy, I have not been where she is.

I also know that fear is a weapon Satan would use to bring me to a place where I no longer trust the one thing I KNOW has brought my daughter eternal life.

For all I know that the fear is not from God, it doesn't take away the fact that I still have no evidence that I can hold onto that tells me of what I so desperately want to see for myself.

I guess that's what faith is. Funny. I thought it would be easier. I mean, it sounds so simple.

Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.

Can my faith fix everything? No. Does it take my fear away entirely? No.

But I know what the truth is. If nothing else, even if I'm holding onto it by a stub of a pinky toe, I'm going to hold onto what I know is true. And for the times where what I know doesn't cut it, I'm going to believe in the God who has never left me or forsaken me. If He's sticking with me, I know He's sticking with my girl. And I know that wherever she is, if He's there, that's all she needs.

We'll See How This Goes

2010-05-12T18:57:00.004-04:00

It's strange that I should feel nervous as I sit down to type here. But I do. My heart is racing and I have that really lovely "I want to throw-up" sensation. I've debated these past weeks about what to do about this blog. I know so many of you read because you wanted to know how to pray for Lydia. But she's not here now and here is not going to be a place for you to read all of the fun things we've been doing or to see cute pictures of her. I don't know even how many people will still bother coming to read here.

I've come to the conclusion (albeit rather hesitantly) that I still want to write here. But I'm warning you now, it's probably not going to be pretty. I feel like I have to keep writing for two reasons. One is mostly just selfish. I have things in me I want to say. Part of me thinks I should just keep a journal for myself and no one else, but I want other people to hear me. That brings me to reason two, which is that I know other women will walk this road or are walking it. I want to encourage. I want to point, as best I can, to Christ despite my brokenness. I want Lydia's life and her death to mean something. Obviously they mean something, but if this had to happen, if I have to walk this road, I want good to come out of it. And not just "Oh, one day there will be something good from all of this," kind of good. I want good I can see.

So...hi. My name is Jen. My baby girl died two weeks ago today. All of my faith rests in a God who I know let her die. I'm a little angry with Him right now. And I have no idea what to do with my life now.

Lilly

2010-05-10T08:34:00.001-04:00

I've written about my friend Jen and her sweet baby girl Lilly here before. I wanted to ask you all to pray for Jen and her husband Kent as Lilly went to be with Jesus early this morning. I know so many of you are in prayer for Micah and I still, and for that we thank you so much. Would you please add Jen and Kent to those prayers?

Thanks people. You are wonderful.

Slide show

2010-05-07T21:47:00.003-04:00

We've run away for the week, up to a quiet, coastal cottage in Maine. It's been a much needed escape. I'm not sure what the next weeks will hold for me without my girl, let alone what this blog will be without her. I'll let you know when I do.

Until then, here's the slide-show I made for the reception after her memorial service. It's long, but the songs are worth listening to, even if you don't watch the whole thing.

8 Months, 8 Days

2010-05-02T15:49:00.000-04:00

Dear Lydia,

It’s almost impossible for me to write this letter to you - I don’t want to imagine you concerned with things of this broken world anymore. I wish there was any other way for me to do this, but since I still live on the earth, these words are all I have.

These past few days have been awful. Empty. Quiet. For such a small little girl, you leave a big hole. I’ve wished in my heart a million times for you to come back to us. But for all I would take you back in a second, I’m so thankful that you are now in your true home. I hope you know now how deeply we loved you while you were with us.

I did my best while you were with us to tell you that you were the answer to the most fervent prayers I have ever prayed. Before you existed, we prayed and prayed for God to give us a baby. But not just any baby. We wanted the baby that He wanted us to have. Whoever it was He needed to be born to the world to fulfill His perfect will, no matter how long we had to wait, no matter the struggle, that was the baby we wanted.

And He gave us you.

You were not what we expected. Nothing about the situation, about your sickness seemed right to us. But you. YOU were right. God knew you were right for us.

It wasn’t an easy road He asked the three of us to walk. I’ll never completely understand what exactly it is God was doing through all of this. But as hard as it was for us, I know it was worse for you, trapped in that broken but beautiful little body. But every time your tiny hand curled around my finger, every time you yawned your sweet baby yawn, every time I smooshed your cheek up against my lips made every other horrible moment worth it.

Our hearts are broken without you here. But we have hope in the prospect of seeing you again in heaven. I cannot wait until the day when we can stand together as a family, hand in hand and worship at the throne of our Savior.

Until then, know that we love you more than we ever thought possible and every time we speak of you it will be with pride and thankfulness for the great gift you were.

Love,

Mama

Saturday

2010-04-29T16:07:00.003-04:00

We hope that those of you who can will join us for Lydia's memorial service to celebrate her life. It will be held at Calvary Evangelical Free Church in Trumbull, CT in the family life center on Saturday at 1:00pm. There will be a reception to follow.

Contributions in memory of Lydia can be made to the Kennedy Krieger Foundation via internet www.support.kennedykrieger.org/lydia or via phone at 443-923-7300. Contributions may also be made to the Lydia Thompson Memorial Fund at Christian Heritage School - 575 White Plains Road, Trumbull, CT 06611 or contact the Development Office at 203-261-6230, ext. 590.

2010-04-28T15:14:00.003-04:00

Many people have already heard, but our sweet girl went to be with Jesus this morning.

She was peaceful and quiet and in our arms.

When we know any details, we'll pass them on to you. Thank you so much for your prayers and your love for our girl.

New Neurologist

2010-04-26T23:01:00.003-04:00

So, you know what's awesome? New neurologists who are helpful and change medication levels.

Our new neurologist Dr. M proved to be not shy about upping Lydia's medication levels. The one med that we started her on when she made the move to Yale (when she was two weeks old), Keppra, was the one that seemed to help her most at the beginning. Since it doesn't build up in the system the same as the other medication and since there isn't really a cap on how much we can give her, she chose to increase her dose of Keppra. Lydia has been on 1.5ml and today we bumped it up to 2.0ml. Next week we'll go up to 2.5ml and the next week we'll go up to 3.0m. Ultimately, in the next three weeks, we'll be doubling her Keppra. Just so you have an idea, our old neurologist would go up by .1ml. We're going up by .5.

She's also starting Lydia on a new med that's in the Ativan family but she should only need it twice a day as it is longer lasting. We'll still have the Ativan in case she has a seizure cycle that we can't break.

We started the new med and higher level of Keppra at 8pm and so far, no seizures. We'll see how it goes.

Thanks so much for your prayers for our appointment. We're so thankful for this new doctor. Since she's in a hospital, all overnight and weekend there is always someone on call. If we have an emergency, we'll be able to be in touch with a doctor pretty quickly. She also introduced us to the nurses that we would speak to if we called in and a doctor wasn't available. It's just so comforting to know there are people there all the time if we need it.

So, all in all, a good appointment.

Then I just have a quick prayer request. We're a little worried Lydia might have some kind of pneumonia. We started hearing the crackling sound in her lungs late last week and got her on an anti-biotic just in case. Her oxygen dips little low every now and then, but not bad. Would you please pray that the anti-biotics will work quickly and that the congestion in her lungs goes down before it becomes a problem?

Thanks, people. Have I told you lately how thankful we are for you?

It's a lot.

This is Not My Home

2010-04-22T12:56:00.003-04:00

Lydia and I had a visit from one of my good friend's from high-school, Faith.

Faith is the kind of friend who you don't see for a long time, but when you do it's like you were never apart. She is awesome. She is also an amazing photographer and took a bunch of pictures for us, which will be coming sometime in the not-too-distant future.

One of the things I love most about Faith is that she doesn't mess around when it comes to conversation. When we get together, we rarely small talk. This is a trait that I am coming to love more and more about people, as I do not really enjoy small talk. If I'm going to spend my time in conversation with you, let's TALK. That's what Faith and I do.

In between all of our discussions about the ups and downs of the past couple of years and realizing we've had some really high highs and terribly low lows, we concurred that both of us have those days when we look around at our lives and (as Faith put it) say, "This is not my home." I loved this because it put to words exactly what I've been feeling lately.

I was watching Prince Caspian the other day and in the first fifteen minutes found myself weeping like a loon at the part when the Pevensie children arrive back in Narnia. They feel a change and begin to realize that something stronger than them is pulling them to a different world. When they arrive on the beautiful beach of their beloved home in Narnia, they look at each other and the celebration begins. I was a mess because it was just one of those days when my soul wishes I could just close my eyes and open them and realize that I was home.

Don't get me wrong. I love my life. I love my husband and family and sweet girl, and all that I'm learning and know now about my Savior in heaven. But oh, some days my soul longs for it's true home.

I think about this for Lydia too. She will see her true home long before I will. As much as it hurts to think about losing her and as much as I wish she could stay in this home for longer, the part of my soul that longs for heaven longs for it for her too.

This is not our home. Thanks for that reminder, Faith.

8 Months

2010-04-19T17:35:00.006-04:00

Dear Lydia,

You turn eight months old today.

I think only you understand how difficult it is for me to write this letter. You’re the only one who has been with me for almost every sad, helpless moment of this past month. This is probably the hardest letter so far. I’m having such a difficult time celebrating all of the sweet little moments with you like I used to. But I still try. I know that every moment I get to hold you in my arms is a gift, even if it sometimes is I gift I have to grapple with.

God has still been very good to me and given me such precious moments with you. I know, practically, that you can’t control when you seize and that no amount of rocking and loving from me is going to make you stop. But, there have been moments when you are screaming through a seizure and when I come and pick you up and rock you gently as I sing you our new song, you quiet down and fall back asleep. He knows I need those moments because for every one, there are ten awful ones that I can’t help.

You don’t wake up much now. The only time I get to see your beautiful eyes is when you are having a seizure. Every now and then, you’ll wake up for a few seconds. I’m not sure if you can see me anymore. It’s difficult some days to believe that you hear or understand anything, but deep down I believe your soul is still aware of what is going on around you. I pray every day that you feel how much I love you as I hold you close and whisper it over and over into your ear.

Whether you understand or not, we’re still trying to take you places and do new things with you. This month we’ve planted seeds, baked cookies, gone to the zoo and celebrated Easter! All things made better because they were done with you.

For all the bad, hard things there are still so many beautiful things. And until you aren’t here anymore, I will keep trying to show you things and keep making memories that I will hold in my heart until the end of my days.

I love you, sweet girl. Always will.

Mama

(My friend Amber made Lydia a tutu! Here are some pictures from our photo shoot! I was calling her "Tiny Dancer" and singing Elton John).

Baby ballerina feet.

Showing off her mad plié skills.

Please note the chubby belly situation we have going on here.

Yeah...You know...

2010-04-16T21:26:00.003-04:00

This has become my response to people when they ask how we're doing.

Things here are not awesome. We're pretty much living from dose to dose of Ativan. Sometimes it works. Sometimes she'll have seizures through the several hours until her next dose.

I envy moms who have kids who cry and you can fix it. Lydia cries and cries and there's nothing I can do. The worst part is that it's not even a big cry. It's a heart-breakingly pathetic wail. And there's nothing I can do to make it stop. Today I just held her close and cried and cried with her and apologized because I can't make it better.

She doesn't wake up anymore. The only time she opens her eyes is when she's having a seizure.

We have an appointment at CT Children's hospital, but it's not for over a week. I'm so thankful they could get us in - normally it takes months - but I just wish it were sooner.

I'd Like to Take This Moment to Say...

2010-04-15T17:53:00.003-04:00

THANK YOU to two of my friends, both coincidentally named Amber.

My friend since high-school Amber is the woman responsible for making my blog look so lovely and for keeping the pictures in the header updated. I am mostly technologically impaired. I can type. I can post. That's all I've got. Creating things electronically is not something I am capable of. I send her pictures and she makes everything look beautiful.

Then, my friend since four years ago Amber has made the lovely "Praying for Lydia Eileen" button you see on the side-bar of our page. If you have a blog and are so inclined, you can add it to your blog so people can link over to read about our girl from your page. She just updated it with a new picture, so if you have the old button, you can replace it with this one!

Thank you, Ambers for doing all of the awesome things I cannot! Love you both!

Lesson Learned on a Sunday Evening

2010-04-11T20:20:00.005-04:00

I have a new friend. Her name is Megan. I don't recall ever having met a Megan I didn't love. Regardless, though Megan and I have yet to actually meet and we've only been "talking" via e-mail for about a month, she has been an incredible blessing to me. She lost her sweet baby boy to a genetic disorder and she has encouraged me as I stare down what is coming and she has been real with me as she walks through her own grief. I've been incredibly thankful for her.

She said something to me in an e-mail a couple of days ago that had not really occurred to me. I'm a little ashamed to admit that I hadn't thought of this before. But I've just had a very profound moment where what she said impacted me very deeply, where God used her words to speak to me in a moment of panic and anger.

Megan said, "I think motherhood is a spiritual endeavor, but being the mother of one of the very least of these is really a slap in the face to the Enemy. What you and I have done for our babies sings of the sanctity of human life, and Satan hates it. I know you know this. I just say it to remind you that there is a great deal of good vs. evil, spiritual warfare, in your everyday routine with Lydia."

Now, I'm not one to see the devil hiding around every corner. In fact, I tend to go more in the opposite direction. Not that I disregard him or don't know he has power, I just tend to not want to blame the bad or difficult things in my life on the devil. But honestly, let's just say it like it is. Some of the things that go on here, and specifically some of the feelings I have are NOT of the Lord.

For example, tonight. Lydia has had a really difficult day today. I mentioned in my previous post that we're working on getting her medication corrected. Tonight, just a few minutes before Micah left for youth group, Lydia started having pretty rough seizures. She was screaming, crying, and stopping breathing. I still had over and hour before I could get her another dose of medication. She seized non-stop from the time Micah left, until I gave her the medication which was over an hour.

I started getting really worked up. And then I started crying. And then, I got angry. My head started doing something like this, "If these seizures, these seizures take her life, I will not have done enough to help her. I should have been on the phone EVERY DAY last week to make appointments. I should have been pushier with her neurologist to get higher dosages. I am NOT doing everything I can to help her. If she dies from these seizures, it will be my fault."

Yes, my friends, it's been a lovely evening here in the Thompson home.

I got her medicated, got her in bed and she calmed down. I came out, sat on the couch and tried to take deep, cleansing breaths. With each breath, as the voices in my head started to quiet, I heard that small, sweet voice coming from the back corner of my heart. You know the one I'm talking about - the one you KNOW is the one voice you should listen to.

"Stop it. You know what the truth is. If the end of her days comes tonight, it is not because of anything you have or have not done. It is because these are the number of days I have ordained for her. If today were the day, no amount of medication would fix it. Stop panicking. Stop blaming yourself. The guilt, the fear - those emotions are not from Me. Remember the truth."

Yep. I love when God tells me to knock it off. I have a feeling this won't be the last time I hear it.

The devil. He's a sneaky dude. It is INSANE to me that he can use the love I have for my child and twist it to a place that says loving her means saving her, and if I don't save her, if I can't take away the things that hurt her, I must not love her. I don't know why I think that since I'm going through this time that the devil would stay away from me. Everything in the Bible points to exactly the opposite. He doesn't play fair.

I need so much to remember that. And more importantly, I need to remember this:

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

Neurologists and Cookie Baking

2010-04-09T17:14:00.005-04:00

Lydia's seizures continue to be not very well controlled. Our neurologist, though very helpful and very cautious, is not as pro-active in treating her seizures as we would like. I've been speaking with my friend Jen (Lilly's mom) regarding her medication and have put our doctor in touch with hers. We're also trying to get in to see a different neurologist up at CT Children's Hospital, just to have another set of eyes on her. But, we're not sure yet when that will be. The Atavan has become really hit or miss in its helpfulness. Sometimes it works and she sleeps for hours. Other times (like last night at 1am) we give it to her and it takes two hours to see any results.

It's getting frustrating. We're doing our best to be pro-active and hopefully we'll have some solutions soon. Meanwhile, we plug along and always appreciate your prayers.

Today, Lydia and I baked cookies for a friend's birthday! Well, I did the baking. Lydia supervised.

A little for me...

A little for Lydia...

Some of the finished cookies!

A Day at the Zoo!

2010-04-05T23:12:00.003-04:00

It was a beautiful day this past Saturday and we made plans to go to the zoo with some of our very good friends (Lydia's godparents) and their girls.

Here Lydia and I are, ready for our stroll through the zoo.

Necessary family picture for Lydia's first trip to the zoo.

Lydia and Evangeline as peacocks!

Eric, Adlien, Micah and Lydia hanging out with the prairie dogs!

Zonked out in the stroller in her rockin' sun hat.

This child is amazing. She knew where everything was in the zoo and couldn't wait to show everything to us and especially to "Baby Lydia." She was a great little tour guide!

Goofy shenanigans with Amy.

Very warm and very sleepy.

Adlien and Eric on the carousel.

Sarah and Evangeline on the carousel.

US on the carousel!

Best friends!

Special thanks to Kristin who is allowing us to borrow this amazing stroller, making it possible to take Lydia to a variety of places without being scrunched up in her car-seat, to Sarah and Eric for letting us use their visitor passes to get into the zoo for free and for just being generally awesome, and to Carissa for taking all of these beautiful pictures!

It was a pretty awesome day.

Resurrection Day

2010-04-04T21:02:00.002-04:00

I have always loved Easter. When I was a little girl, it was so wonderful to get all dressed up in a new dress, complete with a white straw hat, white patent leather shoes with matching purse, and (my favorite) white gloves. I loved going to church and piping in to say, "He is risen INDEED!" when it was said to me first. I loved singing at the top of my lungs the beautiful Easter hymn proclaiming Christ's resurrection and the life we now have through Him.

This year, I had a sweet little girl to put in a pretty new dress and an Easter bonnet with white patent leather shoes. The most awesome thing about Lydia's dress is the wonderful woman who bought it for her. Cathy bought me and my sister's a lot of our Easter dresses and I was THRILLED that she wanted to buy Lydia her first Easter dress. She did a darn good job picking it out! She put the little rose buds on the shoes (and my mom put them on the bonnet!).

Thank you Cathy for making Easter in our house a little more beautiful!

Happy Easter

2010-04-04T01:21:00.004-04:00

I had the chorus of this song stuck in my head all day. It seems so appropriate, especially verse two. May you have a blessed Easter, in praise for all our Savior has done. He is RISEN!

God sent His son, they called Him Jesus;
He came to love, heal and forgive;
He lived and died to buy my pardon,
An empty grave is there to prove my Savior lives!

How sweet to hold a newborn baby,
And feel the pride and joy she gives;
But greater still the calm assurance:
This child can face uncertain days because He lives!

And then one day, I'll cross the river,
I'll fight life's final war with pain;
And then, as death gives way to vict'ry,
I'll see the lights of glory and I'll know He lives.

Because He lives, I can face tomorrow,
Because He lives, all fear is gone;
Because I know He holds the future,
And life is worth the living,
Just because He lives!

Spring is Happening

2010-03-30T22:44:00.004-04:00

And spring in our house, means garden. Micah is a farmer at heart and for the first time last year planted a vegetable garden. This year, after the success of last year's garden, Micah has double the size of the garden and wanted to plant seeds inside to get them started.

Today, after decompressing from work, he started getting things ready to plant the seeds. His final step was to take Lydia into the little alcove and roll up her sleeves.

He set some seeds into some soil and got close in next to Lydia, picked up her hand, and used her tiny baby fingers to smoosh the seeds into the soil.

It was maybe the cutest thing I've ever seen. This will always be a sweet memory for me, watching Micah sharing something he loves with his girl.

She has farmer's hands...tiny ones.

Hope

2010-03-29T11:51:00.009-04:00

This weekend, we met David and Nancy Guthrie - the first people we’ve encountered in real life who have walked this road, first with their daughter Hope, then with their son Gabriel. Nancy did an incredible job speaking at the seminar on Saturday. Lydia and I snuggled in a comfy chair in the basement nursery and watched on a TV screen as Nancy recounted the days of Hope’s life and the many things she learned and has learned since then. I cried.

There were a lot of things that I learned and realized this weekend and I’m sure in the days to come as I process them more, you’ll hear all about them. But seeing Nancy, alive after what has happened and not just living but thriving and ministering, I came to a realization.

I can do this.

My heart will crack open from the loss of my sweet girl. But I can do this.

I will feel empty, hollow, purposeless. But I can do this.

There is a valley coming that I cannot see the bottom of and a darkness through which I cannot yet see the light. But I can do this.

There is pain more real than any I’ve known and at times it will feel easier to let go of my own life because it is too much to bear. But I can do this.

And I won’t have to do it alone, for I know that my Redeemer lives.

Nancy Guthrie Seminar

2010-03-24T18:52:00.005-04:00

I just wanted to remind all of you readers out there who live in the Fairfield County area that Nancy Guthrie will be coming and doing a seminar this weekend at Trinity Baptist Church in Fairfield. The seminar is called "Holding on to Hope." This video is Nancy telling you what the day will be about. All of the info for where and when and who to contact is on a slide at the very end of the video.

I had four different things typed out here to try and say something about why you should consider coming this Saturday. But it all just sounds contrived. All I really want to say is, suffering sucks and I know people don't like to talk about it. But I hope you'll be brave enough to come and talk about yours and maybe learn something about how God is good in the midst of our suffering.

PS - Sorry. I don't know why the video always loads so off center on my blog. The e-mail address is GuthrieSeminar@yahoo.com. Shoot me an e-mail if you have any other questions!

Seven Months

2010-03-19T21:27:00.003-04:00

Sweet Baby Girl,

Today marks seven months since the day you were born. Thirty weeks. 212 days. 5,088 hours. Each hour, day, week, month - it’s more than we thought we would have. Though the days and weeks have been getting harder, every night when we tuck you into your crib, after Puppy and Froggy give you kisses, Papa and I pray to Jesus and thank Him for another day with you.

This month has seen the return of warm weather and the spring sun. When it was still too cold outside for you, I put you on the bed in the spare room so you could nap in the sunshine. Now it’s finally warm enough that we can snuggle out on the back deck or take a walk in the park. The other day we sat on the deck and I sang you all the songs I could think of that had the word “sunshine” in them.

You had your first cold and ear infection. I was worried because you had a fever and fevers can make you have more seizures. But I got to do normal mama things for you, like take a cool cloth and put it on your forehead and neck to cool you down, and snuggle you close all day long.

This month has been really hard for mama. I’ve had to tell you I’m sorry many times as I’ve held you and just cried and cried. I don’t want your life to be defined by sorrow, nor do I want my memories of our time together to be predominantly sorrowful. But some days, when the love I have for you pushes me to acknowledge the loss I’m facing, there’s nothing else I can do but cry for you - for all that you won’t have and for all that I won’t have.

But, my sweet baby, we have so much. We’ve had seven months. Thirty weeks. 212 days. I’ve had your tiny hand to hold and your soft, chubby cheek to stroke as I sing you songs. We’ve had bedtimes and bathtimes. We’ve had more than I could have imagined after our meeting with the geneticists who told us your life would be short.

We don’t know how aware you are anymore. It seems like any time you’re not asleep, you’re having seizures or getting ready to. We keep talking to you, keep playing the praise DVD I caught you watching the other day, keep reading you books. And I keep telling you how much I want you to stay, stay, stay, but that when you get too tired, it’s okay to go.

Today on your birthday you’re going to be surrounded by lots of people who love you. We’ll take walks, have snuggles, and relax with our family. It’s going to be a good day.

Happy Birthday, sugar pie. I love you so.

Love,
Mama

For your viewing enjoyment...

2010-03-16T22:38:00.002-04:00

Here are some pictures from the past few days.

Bathtime, Rubber Ducky, Naked Baby Leg.

This one's cute, right? I'm pretty sure she was just starting to have a seizure and that's
why she's so wide awake.

Pretty purple dress from Target! AND today was the first day in a lot of days that there was any sunshine! So, Lydia had a nap as the sunshine came in through the window.

This frog blanket was the very first stuffed animal that Lydia was
ever given from my good friend Kim and her daughter Katherine.It has lived in her crib
since before she did and she's been snuggling him a lot lately.

Prayer Requests

2010-03-14T22:20:00.003-04:00

The seizures - oh, the seizures.

In pretty much all of her awake time, Lydia is seizing. Interestingly enough, the one time this week she woke up and wasn't seizing was when I put on a Praise Baby DVD that a kind friend (who I've never met, but I count her a friend!) sent Lydia in the mail. Let me tell you, people. It was incredible to watch her open her eyes and stare up at the images of bright colors and shapes and listen to the praise music. You can call it a fluke if you want, but I believe so strongly that her spirit understands so much more than her brain can comprehend.

Other than that, she seizes all the time. We've been giving her Atavan multiple times a day and that knocks her out. It's hard. We don't see "her" very often anymore...the little bits of her personality we cling to...we don't see it when she's medicated. Or when she seizes.

It's so strange. I feel like she's slipping away and I know the time is probably short and I know what the prognosis is. But I still, despite the intense reality of it all, can't help thinking that one day I'm just going to go into her room to get her out of her crib and she's going to be different - better.

I know you prayer warriors are out there, constantly lifting us to the Lord. Would you please pray for mercy for our girl? It all seems too much for her poor little body to take.

Also, I think I'm getting sick. I've been healthy since Lydia was born, which is a miracle in itself. But I feel that weird swollen throat thing coming on. It doesn't bother me so much for myself if I'm sick, I don't want to get Lydia sick, especially after she's just gotten better. If you would please pray that the sickness would stay away, I would be so grateful. I don't want to waste time being sick.

It's hard to take pictures since she's awake so little and seizes so often. Hopefully I'll have some pictures for you soon instead of these boo-hooing type posts. Thanks for reading and for praying for our family.

So, It's Not All Bad

2010-03-10T18:44:00.003-05:00

Contrary to the tirade I just recently posted, even though the days are tough, there are so many beautiful moments in each day we have with our girl. Here are some from the past couple of days.

Snuggles with Aunt Allison who came to visit this weekend!

Lydia and Grandpa Huff had a nice chat.

Then, there's this awesome lady-bug hat that makes me smile every time.

Praise Jesus for beautiful weather these past couple of days! Even though our grass is like needles until it greens back up, Lydia had a nice time napping in the warm sun.

Clearly, she is bored by all the paparazzi.

Yesterday we took a walk with two of my oldest friends and their kids. We spent some fun time playing in the park. Lydia (of course) slept through the whole thing!

This is Sarah with her youngest, Evangeline.

And Emily and her little guy, Jack (who just before this
was having his face wiped off from all the dirt he kept eating).

This is Sarah's older daughter, Adlien. She loved watching the water drift under the bridge and said, "I just want to lay here and watch the water all day..."

And Lydia did some off-roading in her stroller.

The seizures are still pretty bad. We've spoken with the neurologist and will be changing her med levels starting tonight. I'll keep you posted. Thanks for all of the encouragement in the form of comments and e-mails and for all of the prayers!

In Which I Do a Little Yelling

2010-03-08T00:11:00.004-05:00

I wrote this post yesterday, which was a crazy mish-mosh of awful and great. Here's the awful. I'll post pictures of the great later. I couldn't decide if I wanted to post this, but I know there are women out there who are feeling the same about their sweet babies who are watching their babies suffer and I just want you to know you're not alone.

I'm angry today. I don't get angry often, but today I'm angry. Even less rare than my anger is the kind of anger that causes me to have "words" with God. Today, while I was home alone and Lydia was having a horrible time, I had words with God. The kind of words that I say through gritted teeth and choked back sobs, because I can handle a lot. I can handle that He's going to take her away from us and that maybe I'll never have another baby of my own.

But every now and then, I snap. Because I cannot handle seeing my sweet, sweet girl suffering the way she is.

I held her today as she writhed under the seizures and cried and cried...out of fear? Pain? I don't even know why my baby is crying and there's nothing, nothing, I can do to make it better for her. Knowing that eventually, in His time, He's going to take my girl to be with Him, I looked up at the ceiling and blurted out, "HOW LONG ARE YOU GOING TO MAKE HER DO THIS?!"

I hesitate to even write this, because there are several women I know who read this blog who have lost their babies. This huge part of me feels like being angry now while Lydia is seizing uncontrollably in my arms and screaming until she's purple isn't fair. Because at least I get to hold her. But for all that I know that it will hurt to keep breathing when she's gone, I want peace for her. And wholeness. And I want them now, while she's here with me.

But more than I want those things for her on earth, I simply want them. I want her to be peaceful and I want her to be whole. I know that saying this will sound like me saying I'm ready for her to die. That just isn't true. I'm ready for her pain to stop.

Sunny Day Photo Shoot

2010-03-02T00:23:00.004-05:00

Today, Lydia and I had a photo-shoot. The sun was so bright coming through the windows, and Lydia was so awake (and seizure free) for a while, I couldn't resist. I laid the quilt that we designed her nursery around down on the bed in the spare room and opened up the blinds to let the sun light in.

We had some cannula free photos...

Then we put the cannula back on for more effective breathing times. I was amazed at this picture - she was looking right at me.

We held hands for a little while...

And then, she started to get a little sleepy.

She fell asleep in the sun and slept off and on all afternoon. When she was awake, she just stared up at the sky, content as can be. I think she enjoyed the change of scenery.

Of Colds and Ear-Aches and a Few Awesome Things

2010-02-27T21:17:00.004-05:00

Lydia has had a cold and an ear infection this past week. She had a pretty good fever going at the beginning of the week, but we went to the doctor's office and The World's Most Awesome Pediatrician checked her our and laughed with us when we were excited that she had a normal baby sickness. It's nice to treat a not-normal baby like she's normal.

Lydia spent most of her week in a mostly zonked out state, and when she would wake up, this is what she looked like:

Miserable, right? But we've had some really good snuggle times and some beautifully normal moments. When her fever was high, I worried like a normal mom and put a cool cloth on her forehead and neck to settle her down. Even sick, she's maybe the sweetest thing I've ever seen.

I've been wanting to share for a long time some of the very wonderful things that have been given to us over the past six months. We have been blessed with some truly gifted and thoughtful friends. I couldn't possible put everything in one post, but as I think of it, I want to share some of these lovely things with you all. Here are a few of my favorites to start.

This little statue is called "Guardian."

It was given to me by my good friends Lorna and Olivia. It sits on the corner of my piano, where I walk by it several times every day. I love this little statue for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that it reminds me of how I hold Lydia. I hold her high up on my shoulder, on her side, and snuggle our faces together. When she has seizures, I cradle her head in my hand to make sure she doesn't shake too violently. I love the name too - it reminds me that although ultimately it is our Father in heaven who watches and protects her, for the time she's on earth, we are her guardians. Every moment, I'm so thankful for that.

This next one was a wonderful surprise. We received this beautiful water-color portrait called "Lydia's Christmas" from Cady. It happens to be my favorite picture of all of Lydia's Christmas pictures. We got it framed and it now hangs in our living room and will, inevitably, hang in all of our living rooms from now until forever. What an incredible blessing.

Here's a close up of the amazing detail, down to her polka-dot blanket!

Remember all those pictures of that other really cute baby, Molly? Well, Molly's mom Megan is one of the most talented people I have EVER met. She does beautiful portraits. We already had one of our wedding day that Megan made for us in our room. When she and Molly came to visit, she brought this beautiful portrait of our girl with her.

She also wrote a heart-breakingly beautiful poem that sits opposite the portrait. Whenever I show it to anyone, I say, "Only read it if you want to cry." So, I say the same thing to you. Read at your own risk.

It's an acrostic of Lydia's name.

Little girl with polka-dot dresses,
You teach us daily by
Doing what the Savior asks of you;
In words from your Mama's pen, you give us
A deeper understanding of who God is.

Every instant is a gift
In all the ups and downs,
Leaning on a Creator Who knows
Everything you are,
Everything you will be, Who
Never questions His handiwork or timing.

Through deep, dark valleys,
High hills and wilderness,
Onward we travel this journey with you,
Mighty Comforter guiding each step.
Precious, precious little one-
Someday you will see how
Others know Love like they
Never thought they could because you are here.

Thanks, friends!

Nancy Guthrie

2010-02-23T22:13:00.004-05:00

Through a series of pretty amazing events, I had the absolute blessing of coming into contact with Nancy Guthrie. I received one of her books randomly in the mail from a former student's mother. She had begun to read the intro to the devotional and learned that Nancy had two babies who suffered from Zellweger Syndrome, the same thing Lydia has. A few days after I got the book, we brought Lydia home from the hospital and Nancy (having been contacted by someone we know) commented on our blog.

After several weeks of having Lydia home and after one particularly difficult week, I finally got up the nerve to call her. She was going to be the first woman I spoke to who had lost a baby to ZS and I was excited and nervous for what she would say. It was an incredible phone call. She told me about her sweet babies, Hope and Gabriel and how she dealt with their lives, how she went on everyday knowing they would die, how she dealt with friends who had babies the same age as hers.

She told me that how I grieve when Lydia goes to be with Jesus is a choice I get to make. I could allow myself to feel connected to her only through my grief, or I could choose to celebrate life to honor her memory.

She told me that losing Lydia will be the most painful thing I will ever experience and will hurt me more deeply than anything ever has. But it will not hurt that bad forever.

She told me that the miracle of this story isn't going to be that God heals Lydia. The miracle is that, after she is gone, He will heal me.

She gave me so much to think about, but more importantly, she gave me hope that when Lydia goes to heaven, it will not be the end of my life.

Since talking to her, I've read two of her books (Hearing Jesus Speak Into Your Sorrow and Holding On To Hope), which I would recommend to anyone who is dealing with some kind of suffering in their life.

Knowing that many people in our community are going through significantly difficult times and suffering through things they do not understand, our bishop then reached out to Nancy to see if she would be interested in coming and speaking in Connecticut. Excitingly enough, she said YES!

Here is a video of Nancy explaining what the seminar will be all about. At the end of the clip, there is a slide with all of the info that you need, should you want to attend. Hope you'll consider it. The time is being covered in prayer and we are trust that God will bless the time.

The Utter Ridiculousness

2010-02-23T01:19:00.002-05:00

Lydia has a cold. It's the kind of cold where your nose isn't exactly stuffed up but back behind your nose is. We keep trying to suction her nose, then her throat, then her nose, then her throat and she's still so congested. I took her temperature tonight and she had a fever. What did we do? We packed a bag so if we ended up having to go to the hospital, we wouldn't have to worry about it in the middle of the night. Also, I drove to my mother's house to get a humidifier to help get the gross out of her head.

On the way there, I called Monica, our good friend and a nurse at the pediatrician's office. "I just need you to tell me not to panic," is what I said to her. In my head, I recognize that it's probably nothing - just a cold. But with Lydia, you can never tell. She told me it sounded like a cold, that the humidifier was a good idea, the Tylenol we gave was a good idea and I should calm the heck down.

I find it ridiculous because shrieking seizures, I can handle. Baby stopped breathing? Under control. But a FEVER?! WHAT DO I DO ABOUT A FEVER?!

My life is nuts.

Meanwhile, I have derived a strange pleasure in taking care of my baby through this little cold. I have her all propped up in her bed, socks on her feet (over her jammies) to keep her toes extra warm, humidifier on. I took her temp a while a go and it's come down a good amount and she's breathing a ton better. I can't make all of her better, but I can take care of her if she has a cold.

I just went into check on her and felt her forehead with relief when it seemed cooler. I stroked her cheek and kissed her and said a prayer of thanks for this incredibly normal feeling moment.

That said, we'd still love for her not to be sick. Please pray that the cold and fever would pass and not turn into any kind of infection that could cause more problems.

BIRTHDAY PARTY

2010-02-21T15:26:00.004-05:00

Last night, we had a shin-dig for Lydia's six month birthday and people, be proud of me. I only cried once because I thought the cupcakes came out badly and I forgot to bring things to put the cookies on. But my dad went and got them, and the cupcakes weren't too bad.

Lydia did great during the party. She slept almost the entire time and only had one or two little seizures until the end of her party when she had a bunch and did a lot of screaming. Thankfully, most people had left by then.

It was an amazing night and we had so much fun. Thanks to everyone who came. It meant so much to us to have our girl surrounded by people who love her, even though she slept through everything. It was a wonderful celebration of her life and made me happier than I can say.

Here are some pictures!

Lorna bought this princess hat for the birthday girl!

Aunt Amy got this beautiful birthday sign!

Her party outfit was beautiful and pink (of course!)

We made birthday cookies in the shape of flowers and butterflies. Thanks to Lisa and Fran for helping decorate!

This was my favorite cookie.

Lydia's Great-Aunt Carol got to meet Lydia and hold her for the first time! We were so happy she could come from Florida for the party!

Lydia had lots of friend who were excited to see her! Linnea and her sisters Lexi and Lillian came, and Linnea and Lexi made her beautiful birthday cards!

Adlien and her sister Evangeline came, and Adlien sang Lydia "Feliz Cumpleanos" from Dora!

And we took some silly birthday pictures.

These were the cupcakes. I don't really want to talk about them, but people said they tasted good.

Lydia got some fun/creepy looking balloons from Aunt Amy and a few other very lovely gifts, including her very first Barbie! I loved seeing her crib full of cards and flowers and happy things.

We asked people not to bring gifts for Lydia, although some people broke the rules (which was awesome).

Instead, we asked people to bring books to donate to the organization called Brady's Smile They provide comfort bags (full of books, snacks, etc) for families in the NICU's or PICU's all around CT, NY, NJ, MA, VA and PA. They are also working to start a children's library in a local hospital.

Thank you so much to everyone who brought books (many multiple books!) to help make families in unfortunate situations feel a little more normal by reading books to their kids. If you're interested in donating books, other items, or money to this wonderful organization, check out their website for info.

Yesterday was a day to be thankful for. A day to praise God for. We give Him all the glory for this most wonderful of days.

Six Months

2010-02-19T23:15:00.003-05:00

Dear Lydia,

SIX MONTHS! I am amazed, thankful, bewildered and a little fearful as we celebrate this milestone with you. I was looking back through your pictures and am amazed that despite the fact you’ll never grow up like a normal baby, you have come so far in your own way.

This was the very first picture I took of you.

You were so little and so sick and we were so scared. We had a million questions that had no answers. We heard best case scenarios and worst case scenarios and everything seemed like losing, no matter how we looked at it. We waited and waited to bring you home so we could be a family, and when it finally happened, we thought we had weeks together at the most.

This picture was taken just a couple days after we brought you home, at your baptism.

We felt like you were hanging on by only one of your tiny little toes. We held our breath every time you stopped breathing, ready at any moment to say goodbye to you should Jesus come to take you to heaven.

But our fear turned cautiously to hope that you might stay with us a little longer as every day you grew stronger and stronger.

We’ve been able to do so many more things with you than we thought we would do.

We have come up with a so many (somewhat absurd) nicknames for you: Peanut, Punkin’, Punkin’ Pie, Punkin’ Pie Face, Bug, Bug-a-boo, Smoochy, Smooch, Smudgy, Smudge, Smudge Face...yep, all really original too. We rarely call you by your actual name.

We’ve gotten to snuggle you for hours on end. We’ve given you thousands of kisses. We’ve read tons of books and sung hundreds of songs. We’ve taken walks in the park on beautiful fall days. We’ve had play dates. We’ve gone to Maine.

I wish that I could say doing all of these things make me feel like I’ve done enough to be OK never doing them again. But every time I hold you, every time I sing you a song, every time I kiss your jawline right below your ear, all I want is to be able to do it a million more times, every day forever.

But I don’t want you ever to think that it hasn’t been enough. All that you are, all you have been is more than I ever imagined when we first learned how sick you really were. Every time you look in my eyes with those heart-stopping blue eyes, every time you make your funny laughing face when I tickle you, every time you fall asleep and drool all over my shirt is one more time than I thought I would get.

So, today on your birthday I’m going to try to remember that. I promise you that I’ll do my very best not to cry because I want this day to be a celebration of all we never thought we would have.

You’ve come so far, and I know I say this almost every time I write you a letter, but you’re a miracle, baby. A constant reminder to me of the magnificence of the God who gave you life.

I wish that there were words enough to tell you how much I love you - how much every moment you’ve been alive has meant to me. Just believe me when I tell you that these six months have forever changed my life.

Happy Birthday, my big girl.

I love you so.

Mama

Reader Response

2010-02-18T22:23:00.002-05:00

When I was in college I took a class on literary criticism. We were twelve or so students crammed into a tiny room around a conference table. Our professor wrote the book we were studying, all about the many different types of literary criticism that exist. Funnily enough, I can only remember two of them. One was deconstructionism and I'd be hard pressed right now to explain to you what exactly that meant. I wrote a paper on it and explained it to my grandma, so I felt pretty smart.

The other I remember is reader response. This theory says that the meaning we draw from the text changes according to who is doing the reading. Not only can the effect of a text be different from person to person, but it can also change from time to time of encountering the text.

This past week, I've found this to be true of the Bible. Don't get me wrong - I'm not saying that the Bible has changed. But I've been looking into a passage of Scripture now that I was studying a few years ago and, with the experiences that I've had since last studying, have gained a completely new understanding.

Psalm 139 - it's a pretty well known Psalm. In the discipleship group I am a member of, we looked into this text over two years ago. I was in the throes of trying to get pregnant but we had been unsuccessful. I was watching friends of mine all over the place have babies and couldn't understand what God was doing. We looked into Psalms and beginning in verse 13 read,

For You formed my
inward parts;
You wove me in my
mother's womb.
I will give thanks to you,
for I am fearfully and
wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works,
And my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from You,
When I was made in the secret,
And skillfully wrought in
the depths of the earth;
Your eyes have seen my unformed substance;
And in your book were written
all the days that were ordained for me,
When as yet there was not one of them.

Our leader, Erilynne, elaborated on the meaning of the Psalm saying that before time began, before any body was formed, before He called into existence life where there was no life, He knew the exact time that was chosen for the person to come into being and exactly what womb should be the one to carry it. Were it any other time or any other womb, it would not be the person God wanted.

This had a profound impact on me as a woman unable at the time to conceive a child. To begin to believe that there was a child that God had ordained for me to carry in my womb, created to be the perfect child not only for me, but for the perfect time in the history of the world, called to do HIS work - it made it harder to question why not me and why not now. This wasn't an easy truth for me to grasp, but it was truth nonetheless and I had to begin to live my life choosing to believe the truth as opposed to feeling sorry for myself (which I still did plenty, trust me).

Flash forward a few years. I'm now facilitating another Bible study, going through the same discipleship program. Last week we did the first half of the lesson on Psalm 139. I was amazed at how differently I read the Psalm and listened to this teaching now, having the child that God has given me. He created Lydia and knew her when there was no life in my womb. He knit her body together. This is a tough one for me to hold onto, because even though I know it's true, to recognize this truth is to accept that He knit her together in this broken way.

This was what He needed her to be. For this time, for His purpose - this is what He needed her to be. That's a hard truth to stomach every day, but it is truth.

That last verse gets me ever time. All of her days were ordained by Him before she had lived one of them. If I have to let her go, I know that even though it will feel like the wrong time in every way, it won't be. And I can argue all I want that it is too soon, but it won't be. Because He knew before He formed her the exact amount of days that He needed her to live to accomplish His purpose. And I know not every day will feel this way and some days I will shake my fist at Him in the pain and anger only a mother who has lost a child can know.

But it won't change the reality that what He created, what He worked, He will carry out to complete His perfect will. It's just the truth.

The Race Continues

2010-02-16T10:02:00.004-05:00

Our girl is not doing so great. The past few days, almost every time she wakes up for the majority of time she's awake, she's having seizures. I've debated about whether or not to record her having a seizure so you all can understand exactly what that means, but I think not. Her head flails, her face gets screwed up and her eyes, mouth and tongue twitch, one or both of her legs either pull up or kick straight out. And then, if it's a bad one, she'll scream and scream while she seizes.

In addition to her regular medications, we've also been giving her Atavan, which is a muscle relaxer that hospitals give to kids who have seizures like Lydia's. We're not on a regular regimen with it. We've had it since we first brought her home from the hospital but we haven't had to use it until a couple weeks ago. Then, we gave it to her once and she was fine for several days. Last week, we moved up to giving it to her almost every day and yesterday we had to give it to her twice.

It feels like she's getting worse faster than we can do anything to help her, like we're starting to lose this race. We always knew this was part of the deal, but we've really done OK controlling the seizures up until a couple weeks ago. We want to keep racing against the seizures with meds, and we're speaking to the neurologist today to try to figure out how to adjust her meds, if we can at all.

She's a fighter to rival any I've ever seen, but I just wonder how much longer her little body can stand all it's going through.

I'm sad. I don't know what to even ask you to pray for, but please just pray for our girl. He knows what we need.

But, on the plus side, she's still intensely cute.

Valentines Day

2010-02-14T14:58:00.002-05:00

I felted this little valentine for Lydia!

This Love Bug valentine is from Grandma and Grandpa Huff!

Lydia made us a valentine too, with the help of her friend Sarina!

This super-cute outfit is from Grandma and Grandpa Thompson!

Hope you all have a valentine as precious as ours!

Awesomeness

2010-02-08T20:17:00.006-05:00

This weekend, three of my girlfriends from college came to visit us! Carissa, Karisa and Megan were my roomates (two for three years, one for two) in college. Carissa visits us often (which we LOVE) but Karisa and Megan I don't get to see as often. Karisa hadn't met Lydia, so I was thrilled she could come. I always appreciate that people want to come and get to know Lydia despite how hard it is. And then, there's Megan.

This is Megan and her sweet baby girl, Molly.

Megan, the bravest person in the world, ventured to CT this weekend to spend some time with me DESPITE the last blog post I wrote. She actually called me on Thursday night and told me she wasn't coming, but I coerced her into it. Mostly by crying.

The thing about Megan is that she's me but living in New Jersey (don't hold that against her). Megan and I have many life similarities. Our moms were born on exactly the same day in exactly the same year. We both went so small, private schools, both became teachers at that same small, private high school and both married boys we loved in high school - a week apart (our friend Karisa got married the same day as Megan. It was insanity).

We both had difficulty getting pregnant. I just couldn't and Megan could get pregnant but had multiple miscarriages. Finally, last winter when I found out I was pregnant, I dreaded picking up the phone to call Megan who was still not pregnant. Of course (because she's awesome) she was so excited for me and put me ease.

Two, maybe three weeks later, Megan called to tell me she was pregnant. This time, the baby lived and Megan carried her to full term. This is us being pregnant and awesome a month before Lydia was born.

Her beautiful girl Molly was born less than a month after Lydia and she is a healthy, happy baby (despite having the crazy eyes).

You can read the whole, quite amazing story of all God did in Megan's life over the course of the past two years on her blog. It's sixteen chapters of awesomeness.

I was really nervous about having Megan and Molly come this weekend. I'd met Molly once before, but it was when Lydia was doing really horribly and I cried and cried and cried when they left. But this time, I had a lot of people praying for me.

I didn't want to hate her or Molly for things they had no control over and I certainly never want to jeopardize my relationship with Megan who understands me a lot better than a lot of people do. She knows so well what it feels like to have the things you want slip through your fingers, and to try to reconcile the goodness of God to the confusion left in your heart.

I want to have a relationship with Molly too. It will be hard, but it will be worth it. When Lydia isn't here anymore, I want to be able to celebrate Molly's life and not hide from it. I really wanted to have pictures of her with Lydia so that when she gets older I can tell her all about my little girl.

So in addition to going to IKEA, watching movies, watching Glee, eating enough junk food to put to shame any high school student, and felting (my new favorite hobby, pictures coming soon) we took pictures of our girls together. In matching pajamas.

It was a quite amazing weekend with lots of people I love.

Thanks girls, for coming and spending time with the insane. I needed it.

In the interest of full disclosure...

2010-02-04T11:07:00.003-05:00

Here's what's been happening in my head lately. Lydia will be six months old in sixteen days. DAYS. The norm for ZS babies is six months. I feel like I'm walking around a time-bomb. Every time I look at her, I hold my breath to see if she's breathing. When I go to change her diaper, sometimes my heart starts racing, wondering if it will be full of blood. There are days I feel like I'm losing the ability to live in each day, like we've always been trying to do.

Moreover, I have THIS sickening cycle going on in my head: I'm sad. Sure, I can feel happy and joyful and blessed, but underneath that is sad. Pretty much all the time. And please, for the love, don't tell me that I should be talking to someone or that I need medication. I'm sure both of those things are true. I'm not ready to do either of those things yet. OK - so, I'm sad. I'm ready to stop being sad. I'm ready to start healing. Funny thing about healing though. Apparently, in order to heal from something, it has to actually happen first. In my case, the thing I want to heal from is the death of my daughter. But she's still here. So, but default then, am I wanting her to die so that I can heal? What kind of horrible mother wants their child to die so they can start getting over it?

And then, THEN I start to think about what will actually happen when she dies. I was in bed last night, literally paralyzed by the thought of never being able to hold her in my arms again. I was trying to conceptualize what it will be like to put her down for the very last time, to kiss her for the very last time, to touch her skin for the very last time. And then I think to myself, I don't care what it costs me, how much I have to suffer, how badly I just want to curl up into a ball and die sometimes, PLEASE GOD don't take her away from me yet.

So, ok. Try doing that all day every day for the past week.

Add to that the fact that I'm friends with people (who I LOVE beyond words) who have babies and who are pregnant and have NORMAL lives and can have as many HEALTHY babies as they want. It's enough to want to throw my laptop out the window to keep me from tormenting myself by looking at them with their bellies or their arms full of babies. But I should be happy for everyone, right? Happy they aren't in my shoes? And I am. I'm so happy no one I truly love has to be going through this. But sometimes (I'll just say it for what it is) I'm jealous.

Add to THAT the fact that I just really would love to have another baby. But I don't by any means want to replace the baby that I have now. I just - not to sound arrogant - but I know I can be a good mom. That I AM a good mom. And I know right now it isn't wasted because I am going to LOVE this child that I have until forever. But what's the point of having so much love if you can't give it to someone? But then, how? How can we have another baby? Do we try to have one on our own? Do we adopt? If we adopt, do we adopt from the US or from some third world country? Because I feel like I DESERVE to do whatever is easiest. And I'm trying so hard to want what God wants and I know He doesn't owe me anything, but...CAN'T ONE THING JUST BE EASY?!

Hyperventilating? Yeah? Me too.

Swirl into all of that the knowledge that God loves me in an undeniable, heart-breaking, big kind of way. He SHOWS me this so often in the stupid, day to day shenanigans. For example, as I was sitting here, debating about whether or not to post this, I got an incredible e-mail from my sister's friend's husband's mom about how her mother had a baby girl who died when she was a couple months old. I won't tell you what it said, because nothing I could say could possibly do it justice. It was perfect. Just what I needed to hear.

A reminder that God hears me.

A reminder that I'm not as alone as I feel.

A reminder that there are bigger, more glorious things to come.

A reminder that tomorrow - tomorrow will be better.

2010-02-03T10:04:00.004-05:00

I don't feel like talking, so here are some pictures!

I tried for about two hours to upload a video, but blogger doesn't want it to happen. I'll try again in a little while.

The Cuteness

2010-01-27T14:49:00.002-05:00

This man loves his little girl. And, I think she loves him back.

Everything That Has Breath

2010-01-25T23:43:00.002-05:00

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about this verse - “Let everything that has breath praise the LORD” Psalm 150:6. Now, I’m pretty clear on what this means on the practical level. All things living ought to be praising the Lord. And for my part, I mostly understand what that means. All of my life should be lived in worship and praise to the God who created me. When I work, when I sit around, what I do, what I read - everything should be done with the focus of bringing glory to God. I get that. Do I do it always? No. But I get it.

Here’s what I’ve been thinking about. Lydia has breath. Exactly how is it that she can praise the Lord?

Since before she was born, when we were told by doctors that her brain possibly had a slight defect that could mean nothing or could be problematic for her, we said with confidence, that it didn’t matter what she was like. That God had formed her and knew her before the beginning of time. No matter what, she was exactly what He wanted her to be.

Then she was born, so obviously broken. I know sometimes it’s the tendency of people to say that she is the way she is because we live in a fallen world, and I know that to an extent that’s true. But I cannot attribute her condition to the evil that’s in the world. God knew before the beginning of time who this girl would be. He formed her in my body to be exactly who she is. I have no doubt about that. Seizures, difficulty breathing, broken brain, broken liver - He knew her before she was born.

So, if He created her to be this way, how is it that she can praise the Lord?

I know that to some extent, her ability to praise the Lord comes in how much Micah and I choose to praise the Lord for her. She can’t speak, so the verbal part of praising the Lord has to be done by us. Not really sure why some people get to praise the Lord for more than just themselves, but (most days) I count in an honor to praise Him on her behalf.

But for her - in what ways can she praise the Lord? Could it be that every breath she struggles to take, every time she puts forth effort to move her arms, head or legs, that she is praising the Lord? Could it be that every time her body that He created has a seizure that she is praising the Lord? Could it be that every time that body stops breathing that she is praising the Lord? And could it be that when she takes her final breath on the day that He has already chosen to gather her in His arms - could that be how she is praising Him?

I don’t know. Maybe this is all theologically incorrect, but it kind of makes me feel differently about her suffering. Of course it’s still awful to watch her suffer He’s asked her to praise Him with her body, broken though it may be, how can I help but praise Him with my heart, broken though it may be?

¹¹"You are worthy, our Lord and God,
to receive glory and honor and power,
for you created all things,
and by your will they were created
and have their being."
Revelation 4: 11

Five Months

2010-01-20T19:56:00.004-05:00

Dear Lydia,

Five months, baby girl. This might have been the hardest month so far. But, as it always seems to happen, the things that are the hardest are also the best. I find that about loving you too - it’s the hardest but the best and easiest thing I’ve ever done. To love you every moment is so easy. It gets hard every day when I realize that my love can’t make you better or even, at times, comfort you.

It’s amazing how despite increasing struggle, we still see more glimpses of your personality. When you haven’t had any seizures for a while, like when I first get you out of bed, you are so alert. I lay you on your side across my chest so you can look up at me and we play. I tickle your belly or blow raspberries on your cheeks and you make your happy face. I think you even try to laugh. Maybe not, but I’m going to say that you do.

You recognize our voices and turn to look for us when we walk into a room and start talking to you. Just yesterday you were in your papa’s arms and he had you in a position where you couldn’t see him. When he would talk, you would roll back your head to look at him. We’re so thankful for this. In one of the first meetings we had with doctors before you were diagnosed they told us that it was likely you would never recognize us. But you do! And every time you do, it’s a celebration.

It’s been such an incredible journey getting to know you, little girl. I’m so thankful that I’ve gotten to understand you and your spirit and personality. When you were still in the hospital and all I really knew about you was what you looked like, it was so hard to think about losing you when I hardly knew you. I know you now. Inside and out. And yes, if Jesus chooses not to heal you, it will make losing you that much harder. But I would never trade knowing what each expression of your face means or what each little sound you make indicates for a little less sorrow. Knowing and loving you, sweet girl, is one of the greatest gifts God has ever given me.

I don’t know what the next month holds for you. Most of the stories we read tell us that six months is when a lot of babies like you go to to be with Jesus. But you, my little bug, are a fighter. You’ve defied all we thought you would ever do. So no matter what happens, your mama and papa are so proud of you. And every, every minute we love you and thank God for your life.

Happy Birthday, Baby.

Love,
Mama

Birthday cupcake from your papa!

Your friend Kathy brought you this beautiful yellow flower for your birthday!

2010-01-16T11:43:00.002-05:00

I'll tell you something, people. I'm exhausted. I knew being a new mother would be tiring, but I never expected things to be like this.

We had a couple nights this week only waking up once or twice in the middle of the night, but on average, we get up between seven to ten times a night. The seizures (even though she breathes through them) are difficult for her. We're not sure if it's because she knows they're coming or if it's a vocalization of the seizure itself, but she screams while she seizes. Even though she probably can't understand that we're there with her, we hate for her to be alone if she's frightened, so one of us always gets up to sit with her. It's heart-breaking to watch and not be able to help her. If she were a healthy baby, I could pick her up, rock her, feed her, comfort her. But I can't do anything except put my hand on her head or her back, and ask God to make it stop.

So, yeah. We're exhausted. The more exhausted I get, the more I start to feel like I'm unraveling.

On the plus side, our girl is still so sweet and so beautiful. My dad let me borrow his Flip video camera, so I've been non-stop taking little videos of her. Sometimes I just turn it on and record her sleeping so I can remember her sweet little face and the sound of her breathing while she's sleeping.

Here are some for you! She doesn't move a ton anymore, but she smacks her lips when she's hungry and it's possibly the cutest thing I've ever seen. Except for when she yawns. Which hopefully will be coming soon.

Lately

2010-01-09T22:19:00.006-05:00

Lately, things have been pretty much normal around here, except for one quick visit to the hospital because Lydia had a fever caused by a possible UTI. Everything is fine now. The fever has gone down and she's on anti-biotics.

Lately, Lydia has still been having seizures regularly. Yesterday she had four or five when she stopped breathing, but we think that's from the fever causing more stress on her body.

Lately Micah and I have been sucked into the phenomenon that is LOST, and therefore I have been incapable of doing anything but thinking of what is that ridiculous smoke monster and WHO ARE THE OTHERS?!

Lately, Lydia has been just as super-cute as usual and has got to spend some time with some very wonderful people.

Here is Lydia with a former student/super awesome person, Carrie.

This is my good friend Sarah. She's been working in a school in Venezuela for the past several months, and we didn't think she'd be home at all for a while. She was able to come home for Christmas, so Lydia got to meet her! She teaches 5-6 year olds and they made cards for Lydia! Those will come soon!

We also had a visit from Micah's sister and brother-in-law. We haven't seen them since Thanksgiving, so it was great to see them. Lydia missed her Aunt Liz and Uncle Scott!

Best Vacation Ever

2010-01-01T15:31:00.003-05:00

Happy 2010 everyone! We had a quiet-ish New Year’s celebration at home with Lydia and our friends Carissa and Lisa. We had a great time goofing off and playing Super Mario Brothers on the Wii. Hope your celebrations were full of fun and friends too.

More important (yes, even more important than the new year) is our trip to Maine. Before I tell you all about our trip, let me try to explain why this trip was so important to me.

When my dad was still in high-school, he joined a singing group at Black Rock led by a wonderful man by the name of Roy Williams. Roy became my dad’s mentor and when my dad and mom got married, Roy and his wife Flo became good friends and amazing supporters of my parents. They live on a farm in Maine. There isn’t a year of my life that we didn’t go and spend time with them there. It is like a second home to our family. They live in an old farmhouse and there’s a barn outside where my sisters and I would spend hours playing. Our favorite game was some rendition of “Little House on the Prairie”, especially since they had a working water pump. It is my favorite place in all the world, with two of my favorite people in all the world. Add to that the fact that it was where Micah asked me to be his wife and it’s maybe the perfect place.

Before I was even pregnant, I couldn’t wait to bring our kids there to experience the wonder of it. As Lydia seemed to stabilize, it became a priority for us to get there. In the past five or six years, my family has always gone to visit right after Christmas, so it seemed like the perfect time.

So, we made the decision and started to prepare. On the twenty-sixth, we started to get things packed up. Babies need a lot of stuff and Lydia doubly so, but we actually remembered all of it! We got Lydia snuggled into her new car-bed (so she could be lying down), said a prayer and started the five hour drive.

And wouldn’t you know, she did amazingly! We got all the way there and her oxygen was perfect the whole time! We spent Sunday settling in and visiting with Roy and Flo and generally being jubilant that Lydia was in Maine!

Monday, we went to Two Lights State Park, which is right on the ocean. Normally at the end of December, you don’t want to be going to the ocean, let alone bringing a baby, BUT, it was beautiful and warm. We got Lydia into the Baby Bjorn and took her to hear and see the ocean for the first time! To say I was elated would be an understatement.

We headed to Freeport and went out to lunch. We were going to spend some time shopping at the outlets, but we had been gone a while and thought it would be good to get Lydia back home. We went home and relaxed. That’s the great thing about Maine - lots of relaxing!

On Tuesday, we got to do some shopping and Lydia stayed back on the farm with my mom, sister and Roy and Flo. She got good snuggles all around from lots of people who love her.

And then some from Duncan, Roy and Flo's newfie! He just hopped right up on the couch with her. We think he likes her.

Our last day in Maine was spent walking out on the river and taking pictures of Lydia with Roy and Flo. These two Carissa took and are two of my favorite from the trip.

There you have it. A dream come true for me. As with all things regarding Lydia, it was very bittersweet. When we drove away from the farm there may or may not have been snarfling from me, but what else is new? Even though she can't know it or love it like I do, we were so thankful to have her there and to make memories with her in my favorite place.

Christmas!

2009-12-26T00:18:00.004-05:00

Christmas happened, people. And Lydia was here for it! To say it was the best Christmas ever, would be a gigantic understatement. Christmas was always a multi-day affair in my family, and we've made it so in our family as well. On Christmas Eve, we got all dressed up. Here is Lydia in her Christmas Eve outfit!

It had ruffles. The ruffles kill me.

We headed over to Grandma and Grandpa Thompson's house where Lydia got some high quality snuggle time with the grandparents and some of her first Christmas presents!

After a delicious dinner, we headed over to church. Now, I hadn't been to church in several weeks, and you all know how I do at church. So, we got there, sat down with my family, started singing and I promptly burst into tears. I don't know - there's something about singing the words

"Mild He lay His glory by
Born that man no more may die
Born to raise the sons of earth
Born to give them second birth"

while sitting with my child who will know long before I will what those words truly mean and who will meet the God who allowed Himself to be born a baby, that will really get you choked up. So, I wept profusely, but what the heck else is new? Lydia did wonderfully and had no seizures until the whole service was over, which was somewhat miraculous.

We came back home and got all snuggled into our jammies. Micah and I have a Christmas tradition since we were dating of watching "A Christmas Story" on Christmas Eve. We got comfy on the couch and watched together.

But, some little girls got sleepy and were ready for bed.

We left cookies and milk for Santa, and carrots of the reindeer. We left one cookie especially made for Santa (by Lisa!) and one with an "L" on it, so Santa would know the cookies were from Lydia.

In the morning, we went in to get our little girl up for her first Christmas! She was all cozy in her bed, snuggling with her new puppy from Grandma and Grandpa Thompson!

We got her up and out into the living room to see that Santa had been to our house! And he left presents!

Here she is with her stockings! Yes, she has two! The one on the right was made by Great-Grandma Richards and the one of the left was made by Ellie, a sweet lady at my mom's church.

Snuggling with her new friends!

Then, we packed up and headed over to Grandma and Grandpa Huff's house. We opened presents and took lots of pictures. Here's one of us in front of the Christmas tree!

Christmas smooooooches.

Lydia also got some time to snuggle with some very special people, including Aunt Heather and cousin Shannon.

After a long, great day, we headed home. While we put presents away, Lydia had some snuggle time with her new bear. You can see her amazing Christmas outfit here. Please not the adorable tights that are also shoes.

That's just a smattering of photos from the day. Lydia got so many lovely things including clothes and some beautiful ornaments. We got to spend some wonderful time with our families celebrating the birth of our Savior! Hope you all had a wonderful Christmas!

Quick prayer request - we're heading up to Maine tomorrow. Lydia's been seizing pretty regularly and has stopped breathing a few times today. Please pray that the drive goes well and isn't too much for her. I really want her to see the farm where I grew up spending time each summer. And by "I want her to see" I of course mean, I really want to see her there. We might not be able to update until we get home, but if I can, I will!

Four Months

2009-12-20T15:20:00.004-05:00

Dear Lydia,

My big girl, today you are four months old and what a day for a birthday! Last night was the first big snowstorm of the year. We get to stay in all day today, snuggling and getting ready for Christmas.

I’m listening to you put up a stink as your papa is getting you ready for a bath. You’ve definitely become more opinionated this month. We can tell the difference between seizure crying and just general annoyed crying. When you’re annoyed, you let out one big, loud cry and then slowly close your mouth and smoosh your lips together until the thing that’s bothering you stops. It makes me laugh every time.

This has been an exciting month - not always in good ways. You continue to surprise us and many of the medical professionals who help to take care of you. There were a couple of times this month where we thought we might lose you, but you keep fighting. I wonder sometimes if it’s just because you know we’re not ready to let you go yet. If only our unpreparedness to lose you could keep you here forever...

I hope you’ll forgive me for not buying you a lot of things for your first Christmas - I wouldn’t know what to buy a four month old to begin with, let alone a four month old like you. Not knowing if you’ll be here next year makes me want to make this Christmas big enough to last a lifetime of Christmases. And I’m aware that’s mostly for me - I want a lifetime of Christmases with you. But I have you now and that’s what we’ll celebrate this Christmas.

I know you don’t know the story of Christmas yet, but I know you know who Jesus is. He came to earth as a little baby so He could grow up and do for you what I would do if I could. He came to give His life for you so that you could live. And not just live, baby girl, but live forever with Him. I’ve always been thankful for the miracle of Christmas, and even more for what Jesus was born to do. Knowing now that He not only did that for me - but that He did it for you too, so you could live forever with Him - it makes things different for me this Christmas. Just like always, you give me new reasons to be thankful for who God is.

I’m looking forward to what this month will hold for you - first Christmas and your first trip to Maine. Even though things are hard sometimes, having you here makes everything so much better. Every morning that I get you out of your crib is a gift and and I can’t wait to get you out of your crib on Christmas morning to celebrate not only your life, but also the life of the One who has made it possible for me to have hope in a time of hopelessness.

I love you, sweet baby. Happy Birthday.

Love,

Mama

P.S. Grandma, Grandpa, Aunt Amy, Aunt Allison and Uncle Josiah brought over this cake for you! Aunt Allison told me that a teenage boy who she's pretty sure had never written on a cake before wrote on this one.

In which God sits me down and tells me how much He loves me...

2009-12-17T09:23:00.005-05:00

OK people. Time for some soul-baring. I generally try to not get too detailed about my general emotions because for myself, I try to maintain a fairly positive attitude to the situation in which we currently find ourselves. BUT, let me just tell you, for me these past couple days have been awful.

My friend Lisa described me fairly accurately when she said that I am the kind of person who, when difficult things happen, can accept them, trusting that God has a greater purpose. I don't know why, but my faith has always been of a fairly unquestioning nature. Some would consider this a good thing, others not so much, but I'm pretty sure it's what's been getting me through this time. I have a difficult time being angry for a prolonged period, particularly at God. I can't be consistently mad at the only thing I know brings me peace. So, not a questioner, generally not angry, faith that God knows what He's doing.

The past couple days I've been angry. Not the yelling, fit pitching kind of angry but the deep, down in your soul kind. This is unsettling for a person who doesn't get angry. I dislike being mad at God (although I've been assured countless times that it's OK) and I don't like questioning God (mostly because I've done it before and turns out, it's kind of a waste of time for me). But these past couple days, as Christmas draws closer, I've been going through both of those things.

This is also compounded by the fact that people are constantly telling me the past couple of days how God is using this situation and how our lives are a testimony. Normally, I'm 100% on board with that statement, and thankful to have reminders of that truth. But these past couple of days, all I want to do is turn my face to the sky, dig my feet in the ground and scream, "CAN'T SOMEONE ELSE BE A TESTIMONY FOR YOU?" or "COULDN'T YOU JUST DO THIS ANOTHER WAY?" And then maybe there was some fist shaking...

I'm tired. I'm tired of being an example, I'm tired of having my baby be the one who is dying, I'm tired of bearing this weight to bring God glory in a horrible situation when really, I just want to curl up in a little ball and cry ALL DAY. And I woke up yesterday knowing these feelings would pass soon, because I can't stay in that place forever, but I really just wanted a couple days to feel sorry for myself. It doesn't seem like too much to ask for that.

But God, oh God, He didn't let me. I went to Bible study for the first time since the end of the school year last year. I went really hoping to hear something encouraging and not challenging, because HONESTLY?! I have had enough with the challenging. I hope at some point you all started laughing to yourselves, knowing what's coming...

Bible study was about learning the difference between following after Christ and walking with Him. Instead of walking behind Him, at some point, we must step into a place where we are walking side by side, in the same places with Him. The lesson turned to how, inevitably, this will bring us to difficult, painful places because Jesus had to walk through many difficult, painful places. These places seem hurtful and we often wonder how He could really be part of them. Erilynne (our teacher) went on to give examples of Hagar and Elijah. Both end up in difficult situations, both run away from said situations, and both are met by God. When they meet Him, He doesn't coddle them and promise to make the situation better. He tells them to return to their difficult situations so that His perfect plan can be worked through to completion.

I hate hearing things that I KNOW I need to hear when I really don't want to hear them. So, OK. Fine. I get the point.

But then, PEOPLE, you will not believe what happened the rest of the day.

An incredibly generous, anonymous, monetary gift was brought to our home couriered by my friend Lisa. We have no idea who it is from or what prompted such incredible generosity. My knees went weak and I sat on the kitchen floor and cried. Since I'm not really working, the fear of the financial is always in the back of our minds and yesterday, God took that fear completely away. I heard Him say, "Jen, believe Me. If you walk in My will, no matter how difficult the road may be, I will give you everything you need." And that right there would have been enough for me.

BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE!

The boy's basketball team at Christian Heritage (the school where I used to work) decided earlier in the year that they wanted to dedicate their season to Lydia. They had warm-up t-shirts made that say "CHS 4 Lydia" on the front. We were able yesterday to take Lydia to a basketball game, so she could see these wonderful people who love her, even though they've never met her. Every time they did their "One, two, three, fill in the blank with a random basketball term" chant thing before going back to playing, they filled in the blank with Lydia's name. Their kindness and support of our family was overwhelming to me and has left a deep impression on my heart. Not only does He supply our needs, He surrounds us with people to love and encourage us, often in very unexpected places.

Thank you, kind people who chose to follow God's prompting and support us. Your gift means so much more to us than just money and I will always be thankful for you and pray God's rich blessing on your life because on a dark day, you reminded us of God's provision.

And thank you, CHS Boy's Varsity Basketball team for reminding us of how loved we are and for doing what might seem like a small thing to you that has been an incredible blessing to us.

On other bad days, I'll look back on this day and remember God's faithfulness and I hope this will inspire you to remember days and ways that God has been faithful to you.

Lydia all ready in her CHS colors! :)

Awesome boys!