Second Birthday

My dear Liddybug, Your birthday was not how I envisioned this year. We moved that day, planning to stop at Roselawn Memorial Park where your body is buried. Moving is stressful anytime--add 2 dogs, a toddler, and an 8 hour drive on the most emotionally challenging day of the year and it doesn't make for the most pleasant of birthday remembrances. I had an arrangement of flowers to leave for you, but parched ground did not allow the stake to be pushed in the earth. I poured water to soften the ground, but to no avail. As always, August 1 is miserably hot. We have moved, Lydia. Your physical body is buried in the town your daddy and I met and were married. It is the town where Daddy was baptized. The place you and your younger brother were born. I am homesick for that familiar, dear-to-my-heart place. Big city life is not my cup of tea. I don't like the crowds or traffic. I feel I don't have room to breathe. I am grateful for the place God has provided for us to stay. I am learning to live in this unfamiliar place. We are here because God led us here after doors closed on the direction we thought we were gnoing. I will trust Him in this, too. I selfishly wish you were here. I accept you will not live in this fallen world, praise the Lord for the hope in Him that together we will live in a new heaven and a new earth. Your time here is done. And what an impact that short time gas made. Forever I am changed. As you dance in heaven in the presence of God, I sit on earth and cry. Not tears void of hope, but still tears of sorrow. I miss you. Happy 2 nd birthday, my beautiful daughter. Love, Mama

Hello, blog

I haven't written here in some time. I was thinking earlier today how it has almost been two years. Two years. It does not seem possible.

On Easter Sunday my husband, son and I went to Lydia's grave and found someone had placed an Easter egg on a stand at the head of her stone. It was a sweet, unexpected and intriguing gesture. Who put it there, we have no idea. It pleased me to see it. It is hard to think about not having her when I am consumed with carrying for Isaiah. I miss her more and less at the same time. I think I am still angry she isn't here. And only those who have or are walking this road understand. 

I miss attending M.E.N.D. meetings. I have not gone to one since around this time last year, I believe. Isaiah would now be fine without me for a couple hours, but my husband's busy schedule prevents my attendance to any support group. Support. It is what I need right now and feel in great lack.

***edited*** Thanks for the responses!

I have never walked alone

 Several weeks ago we sang this Matt Redman song in church. I felt it was my testimony since Lydia's stillbirth. I'm sure many others can relate to God's faithfulness in their lives. It brought tears to my eyes to sing this truth while reflecting on the events of the past year and a half.

Standing on this mountaintop

Looking just how far we've come

Knowing that for every step

You were with us

Kneeling on this battleground
Seeing just how much you've done
Knowing every victory
Was your power in us

Scars and struggles on the way
But with joy our hearts can say
Yes, our hearts can say

Never once

did we ever walk alone

Never once

did you leave us on our own

You are faithful

 God, You are faithful

Kneeling on this battleground

Seeing just how much

you've done

Knowing every victory

was your power in us

Scars and struggles on the way

But with joy our hearts can say

Yes, our hearts can say



Never once

did we ever walk alone

Never once

did you leave us on our own

You are faithful

 God, You are faithful

Carried by your constant grace

Held within your perfect peace

Never once

No we never walk alone



Every step

we are breathing in your grace

Evermore we'll be

breathing out Your praise

You are faithful

God, You are faithful

I have never walked alone. God is faithful.

Christmastime

I felt the need to feel close to my daughter this afternoon, so Isaiah and I visited her grave.
Sixteen months have passed.

Another couple was also in the baby section of Roselawn Memorial Park where Lydia is buried. They were also visiting their daughter's grave, stillborn 22 years ago today. Twenty-two years later and the mother stood weeping at her daughter's grave. It was like seeing myself in another 21 years.

My heart forever aches. Sixteen months is long enough to live with this. Can I have my daughter back? That's what I want for Christmas: both my children in my arms. I want to hear my little girl laugh. I want to hold her and kiss her and sing to her.

Yet it is another Christmas season without her here. Every Christmas for as long as I am living will be without her with me. My husband recently wrote and presented a paper concerning mother's who have had stillborn babies. In his research he read a study that found the loss of a child to be the most profound and deepest of grief, compared to the loss of a spouse, sibling or parent. I cannot personally testify that the grief is greater than with those other significant losses, but I can testify that is unimaginably painful.

Mixed feelings this Christmas. So very excited to share it with our son, but ever aware of the hole in my heart and in our family.

A Favorite Quote

When a woman is pregnant people often say she is "expecting a child" or is "going to have a baby." Although said from force of habit, perhaps a change of language is in order, because a woman who is pregnant is not "expecting" a child, she already has one. The child exists, is living and growing in her womb. Nor is she about to bring the child "into the world," the child is already in the world. the mother's womb is as much in the world as the mother herself. 

~Author unknown 

Lydia

Little Lydia, 

 I have been thinking about you often recently. Your little brother is growing and changing so quickly. I wonder what you would have been like at these various stages. Is your smile like his? I imagine you are full of smiles in heaven.
I wish I could breath in your scent the way I breath in his. I wish I could kiss your cheeks, your neck, your head, again. I wish I could hold you, rock you to sleep, sing to you. I treasure all these times with Isaiah, aching at the fact I never will experience it with you.
With your little brother here, I haven't been able to attend a M.E.N.D meeting where I can talk with other mommies who have precious babies in heaven, too. It feels kind of lonely, not having others who understand the hurt. Isaiah brings so much joy, but part of my heart will always be broken, missing. You brought us such joy, too, little daughter, so much love and joy that your parting is incredibly painful and unrelenting. 

I miss you. Oh, how I miss you, sweet child! I wish I could have saved you. I would have done anything.

Do you see the whole picture from heaven? A greater picture than just the pain we feel and see on earth?
Do you dance with joy in heaven on streets of gold?  Do you know your mommy loves you so much?

I do, Lydia. I miss you and love you. I think about you and sometimes get so angry you aren't here with your daddy, brother and me. I anxiously await meeting you again in heaven.

Until then, my daughter, you are in my heart always,

Mommy

Happy Birthday, 

Lydia!