The Mountains & the valleys

My blogger friend, Laura, told us about a website where you can have your blog printed and bound into a book and I have been ready to do that. I need to do it a) before the book gets too big that I won't be able to afford to bind it ;) and b) to put it with my pregnancy journals and stow them away....somewhere...for my girls, should they ever have any interest in this stuff called life that I am experiencing. Anyway, I have been waiting for the perfect post to end this part, called Book I, or something like that.

I guess what comes to mind is how I have changed since Chase died and who it is, exactly, that I am now. The thing is, I'm still not sure. And don't know that I ever will. For when Chase died, he took part of me with him. And just as I feel like I didn't get to know him, there's a part of me that I won't ever get to know.

Of course there is telling in what is not here. I do know some things just merely by what is not in my presense. The first thing is this.....Before Chase died, I had a feeling, or a curiosity, or a premonition, if you will. It had started a long time before April of 2009 and I don't know exactly when, but I had some sort of "feeling", and I don't know a better way to describe it, that something bad was due for our family. I had often thought about the devestations that happen in our world and how lucky, incredibly lucky, we were to not have experienced any such tragedy, to not have cancer or diseases or have someone close and dear to us have to experience that, no natural disasters to take our possessions or damage our outlook on life. Our kids have all of their grandparents and were lucky enough to know several of their great grandparents. And most of all, Patric and I were healthy and fully capable of providing ourselves and our children with enriched lives. I am not an overly obsessed worrier, but I found myself increasingly worrying about something happening to someone close to me. It just seemed like were were playing a game and had escaping all of the bad things that happen to people. We were lucky. And I say that all the while admitting that we had our share of professional and financial troubles. I just felt that as bad as things got in our pocketbooks, we were so lucky to have our health and our family.

Then Chase died. And though a lot of events happened that day and up to that day that gave me the premonition that something bad was forthcoming, I never expected to lose my child. But it happened. It happened to me. It happened to my kids, Patric, our family. We lost a life; forever ripped from our hearts. I would like to say that for this price, I no longer worry that something bad will happen to us again, but I can't. Because I know that life offers no guarantees. Nothing is given to us. We are dealt a hand and we must decide what to do with it. And the only thing I can say is that I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. I might do a few things differently, mainly because I feel love in a different way that I used to. I feel things differently than I used to. I feel differently than I used to. And I guess that is a little bit of who I am now. I know that the mountain that we have come upon in living without Chase has not defined us, rather it has shown us a deeper perspective of who we are. We never thought we could live on, but we are. We. Are. Because such is life and we have to decide how we are going to Live. On. Our kids think and feel differently, too. I can see it in their eyes. I can feel it in their touch. I can hear it in their words. Losing Chase and trusting that they will get to see him again has given them a faith that not very many know. A perspective like this is something that their lives would have been fulfilled not to have known. But as life would have it, they now feel, love, and see things deeper than they did before April 17th. They know how to survive in a way that we never could have taught them. They watched Chase fight and they know that they have it in themselves to fight, too. They know that family means we all stay together and though we might not be able to see Chase, we feel him and we know he is there. And Chase feels us. He feels our love. He has to. How can he not?

So it is with this post that I close this journal and move on to the next one. I can't really call it a Chapter or a Book because I don't feel like have have achieved anything or reached a goal or started anything anew. All I know is this life will go on, our stories will continue and our love will always endure. I won't say that there is always tomorrow, but I do know that our family is definitely more than forever.

The Struggle, Part I of ???

I am struggling these days, with my faith, and often I am comforted from reading my fellow baby loss moms' blogs. I have been relieved many times to run across a blog of a mother who struggles with finding answers on this journey we are on. Not because I want her to struggle or I want her to even be on this journey, but because I know I am not the only one feeling and thinking the way that I do. There are some who are very strong in their faith and are using it to survive their grief. There are some who have modified their beliefs to fit how they view their loved one(s) in the afterlife. And there are some who simply have too many questions to understand or trust in something that would justify the tragedy of losing a child.

My comfort comes from knowing that there are others who feel the same as I do. Even though I feel guilty for my faltering faith, I feel as though I am not alone. I have been told that I will need Him to get through this and that those who have God in their lives survive this sort of thing while those who do not, sink into a hole they can never quite get out of. I do try to go to church. I respect my church community and am grateful for them and their support. But every Sunday when I walk in there and sit in those pews, with my empty arms and a hole in my heart, I struggle. I struggle to see past the tiny casket that was so beautifully displayed right there in front of me with our baby peacefully resting inside it. So many people walk on ice not knowing what to say to me, some not saying anything, some speaking, but in words I can not comprehend some times. I tear up at things that relate to me in ways no one else would or could possibly understand.

Sometimes a person's frankness on topics hurts. Such is the case with a lady I have been talking to about a headstone for Chase's grave. I had asked for something specific and she said she can do it but suggested something quite different instead that she not only thinks I will like and will look very pretty but it will also work better in the cemetery we have buried him in. She does not have a website so I cannot see a sample of what she is talking about. She tells me, though, that a black stone (which I prefer) will "show the dirt out there much the same way that a black car does when it gets dirty." Wow. I never thought of it that way. I never thought of a black head stone and a black car and compared the two. I guess because I have never really thought about a black head stone before. She was a really nice, well-intentioned lady but I cried and cried as soon as I got her off the stupid phone.

People do not mean to be hurtful. But you can only try so hard to be sensitive to someone's tragedy and when it comes right down to it, unless you've felt what they feel, or know what they know, you just will never understand. I was told in church this morning, "if there is ever anyone who needs prayers, it's a preacher who is starting a new church!!" Again, wow. That blows me away. And I'm pretty sure that clearly illustrates my lack of faith right now. But in my mind losing a child is the hardest thing that someone could go through. I suppose that is my opinion and there are others who would disagree.

In my prayers this morning, I tried to pray for God to hold Chase and give him a hug for me. But I couldn't finish my request. Because I want to be holding Chase. I don't want anyone else holding him. I have never left my kids, as babies, in the care of someone other than their grandmothers. So for the most part, I have always been the first one my child sees when waking up from their naps, the one to kiss their boo-boos, the one they run to when they are scared. They have never gone to a day care or babysitter where someone else does these things for them and this has always been something that I have been very, very thankful for. I would get jealous if I saw someone else comforting my child this way. And that is how I feel about God. I am jealous of him or Jesus, or the angels, or whomever is getting to hold my Chase in Heaven right now. I am finding it very hard to trust in them and want them to love him. Because to me, they are strangers. I know that is completely wrong to think that way and it will surely send me spiralling down into that deep hole, but that's how I feel. I don't "know" God, not the way that I should, not in a way that I can trust him to take care of my son for me. This might be the way that I will get to know him, who knows. But I have to think of Chase and what is best for him. And what is best for me. I know Chase doesn't want me to be so lost. And I know my little man wants me to know that he is okay. But to come to peace with what all of that means is what I am searching for on this journey. So reading the stories of those who have lost babies will continue to give me comfort. I will continue to look to them and their faith and maybe someone will see my struggle as one they are having as well and feel comforted, too.