4 years

This Saturday is Tyler's 4th birthday. While the grief isn't as deep and gripping as it was, February still takes my breath away. I am NOT a writer and I'm so horrible at expressing myself, that's why God blessed up with bloggers! haha Seriously, God knows when my feelings need words and there are 2 blogs I've read lately that expresses them beautifully. I am cheating and copying their posts, but please visit their blogs, they are excellent writers!


Here is Kristy's post ( http://babybolte.blogspot.com/2012/01/pain-is-pathway.html ) She says it so beautifully and she has an awesome playlist!

"Four years later, February still steals my breath and leaves me struggling to see the story the Lord is writing in our lives. February 2008 is probably the single most defining month in my faith and while it brings feelings of joy and love it also brings with it a sense of sadness.

Often times that sadness is served with a side of guilt. I mean it has been four years...shouldn't I be over it? I have no intention of coming here and whining and woe is me-ing, but if I am being honest it still hurts. I have seen the hand of the Lord in my life and it has been GLORIOUS and Asher's life has a HUGE part in that, but if I am being transparent, I have to say it still brings a sting.

Sometimes it frustrates me that in our society we are expected to ever "get over it". I for sure don't think it is healthy to dwell on it and let us consume us, but largely our heartache and pain make us who we are...to deny it is to deny a part of ourselves. Instead of fearing the pain we need to FEEL it.

February 2008 was a tough month for me. It began with maternity photosin an effort to soak in every moment we were given and ended with apreterm birth and saying good bye to one of the most amazing little men I have ever had the privilege to know and love. 

Slowly, I am learning to disregard what society tells me is acceptable. I am learning to listen to the prompting of the One who defines wisdom. He is whispering...He holds me as the tears fall even four years later...he embraces me and encourages me to enter into the pain and really feel it as uncomfortable as it is, that pain has purpose and beauty will come of the brokenness...but we have to be unafraid to feel it.

So often I push it aside...I feel the floodgates begin to open and quickly slam them shut pretending they aren't bulging and ready to burst...I know February is a bittersweet month for me...it brings the only memories of my sweet fourth born that I have, it also brings the memories of the most tangible love I've known through His hands and feet in others. It also brings an aching to hold my sweet four year old boy and kiss him and know him. 

In this season in my life, when I want to push the pain away I am more and more feeling the presence of my God pushing me to embrace it...to enter in and to feel it. The greatest compassion comes from a heart that has known pain. Though uncomfortable, I am honored to share in his suffering. I pray that he continues to use my pain for His good and for Him to give me the courage and strength to enter into the pain of others and show them the comfort He has shown me. February might be a tough month for us but it is also a sacred month...I know His grace will be enough...it always is.

The truth is that sometimes God's gifts don't come in neatly wrapped packages with a bow on top...sometimes they come in pain and heartache and day by day I am learning to accept the gifts He gives no matter the form...even when they don't feel like it...His gifts are good. I can honestly say, knowing what I know now, if given the choice...I would still choose having Isaac and Asher even knowing I would not get to keep them...the love and blessing far outweighs the pain...the pain has been a pathway that has opened my eyes and heart to so much and for that I m so grateful."


And here's a fabulous post by Francesca on what it's like to lose a baby. It's been 4 years for me so the pain isn't raw like this, but I wasn't the last person on earth to lose a baby. I'm sharing this for all the moms walking this path behind me. This post contains my favorite quote ever: You can die bitter or you can die thankful. There is no in between! There is a point that you have to choose the road of bitterness or the road of thankfulness, I am so very thankful for the friends that led me from the bitter road to the thankful road ( <3 you Kristi P!!)


"You don’t know what to expect.

People surround you. For a couple of weeks. Making sure you are not going to kill yourself, refuse to get out of bed, or start rocking a baby doll like the crazy lady they heard about from a friend.

You get lots of sympathy cards, clearly written and designed to be sent to console a daughter losing her father. Not the other way around.

You get free baby formula in the mail. For months and months and months.

And free baby magazines. And free baby coupons.

You secretly envy every pregnant woman. But not without a tinge of guilt, because you know all too well that she might be one in four- expecting her rainbow child.

It seems like the whole world is expecting a baby.

You have baby stuff around your home. Because you never imagined you wouldn’t need it.

You feel jarred. In the grocery store. At a birthday party. At the dinner table. At Christmas. Driving.

The baby you never knew, but lost changes every part of your life. Every. single. part.

Forever.

You see baby clothes and it brings tears to your eyes.

You get sick and tired of crying. You never knew it was possible to cry this much.

You find yourself angry at God. Angry at yourself. Just angry.

You sware you can feel them kick but they’re gone. They call them phantom kicks. I call them painful, all kinds of painful. But sweet too.

You know, or you have a strong feeling of knowing what your child would have looked like, and been like. You see a child in the store, or on the street. Their hair color, dimples, smile, their personality and suddenly you are reminded of your child. You miss your child even more, if that’s even possible.

Your Babies R’ Us Registry is still active. There is no delete button on their site. The babies r’ us people don’t make a dime on people like us. Why bother right? You have to call them, plead with them to remove your freaking’ registry, because there will be no baby shower. There is an awkward silence. There is sadness. There will be no baby.

You get hospital bills about 3-4 months after you buried your child. You have to pay for the baby you delivered but didn’t bring home.

You find that moment of happiness in life for the first time, but the guilt swallows it up almost immediately.

You remember the size of the casket. The size of the plot. The face of the funeral director. The expression of those that attended the funeral. The feeling of raw pain, like your chest has literally been ripped open.

Somehow you convince yourself that you deserve happiness. Because you really do. But in the happiest, purest moment, there is still that hole that only they were meant to fill.

People compare your pain to their own pain. The loss of their grandmother, husband, their failed marriage, rebellious teenagers. Somehow this comparing leaves you stranded. If they can compare their pain of a situation to the loss of your BABY, they will likely never get it. Babies are not supposed to die. End of story.

You lost a dream. And it almost feels like you imagined their entire existence up. Their name becomes a distant memory on the lips of others.

There is awkwardness when you talk about your child in a crowd. No one knows whether to cry, walk away or pretend you never brought him or her up.

You lose friends. You find new ones.

You can’t believe that women have actually survived this and you never knew about it. Not really, anyway.

You would do anything for another minute with your child.

You cry when others bring up your child, not so much because it hurts but more so because it such a precious and rare gift.

You long for the rewind button, even after many many instances of acceptance.

You want to know what went wrong, and why…

You find a new appreciation for moments in life that make you laugh… you laugh harder and love stronger.

You know that you can die bitter, or die thankful. There is no in between.

You never ever, EVER get over your child. The one you hoped for, prayed for, carried and loved for the weeks and months they were with you.

You learn to live with the pain.

You are better for having known them at all."