Boasting of Weakness

The other morning I woke up and realized that I now physically feel like I was never pregnant.

I should be fine with that because it means that I'm healing and we're closer to being able to try and start a family again. But, in all honesty, it was a painful realization.  Just another reminder of the "gap" between my baby and me.

I would be 33 weeks pregnant this week. I would be "showing" big time. It would be even more obvious to the world that there was life inside of me.

But now there's emptiness.

I couldn't wait to wear the maternity clothes that my friend from church gave to me. I did get to wear a few of the smaller ones in the beginning, but not many. And I still haven't taken all of the ones I had not gotten to wear out of my closet yet. I guess, deep down, I'm hoping I'll get another chance to wear them in the near future.

While others around me have been celebrating births, baptisms and first days of school...I have tried so hard to celebrate with them.  But it all just reminds me of the future I'll never have with my daughter.

I know that my dear Anna is praying for her Mommy.  I do feel her prayers.  And the Lord does renew my strength every minute of every day.  Sometimes I feel it, and sometimes I don't.  But that doesn't mean that it isn't there.  That HE isn't there. 

I'm always amazed at how God, in His perfect timing, guides me to the exact place that I need to be at the exact right time....even before I realize that He has. God put it on my heart to meet with a group of people who I have been sharing and learning the meaning of suffering with.  After each gathering, my soul feels like it could soar away on wings.  I feel renewed once again and although things don't make sense on a human level of understanding, my eyes are opened wider to the understanding that it all makes perfect sense in the spiritual realm. 

It's times like these days of agonizing grief that I am so, so grateful for the gift of my relationship with God.  And i am even more thankful for the people all throughout my life who have taken the time to teach me in the Lord's ways when I was seeking so desperately.  Not seeking out of grief or unhappiness in life...just seeking for more of God.  More of God in my life and what my purpose is while I'm here on this earth.  I absolutely can not imagine how people deal with this kind of loss without knowing God. And I mean truly knowing Him.  Not just an "I go to church on Sunday and say my prayers" kind of relationship with Him.  But a deep, personal, intimate relationship with our Father-Creator.

I can't even begin to imagine how overwhelming the despair and hopelessness would be for me if I didn't know my God well enough to understand that He has a greater purpose for all of this.  A purpose that is way beyond my knowledge...bigger and better than I could ever dream of.

When I wake up in the morning with thoughts like I wrote about earlier....and those thoughts are going to keep coming...I can open my eyes and heart to the reality of God's strength and power through my weakness.  Just as Paul wrote to the Corinthians during his time of great suffering:

"Three different times I begged the Lord to take (my suffering) away.  Each time he said, 'My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.' So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me.  That’s why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong."  (2 Corinthians 12:8-10)

These are the type of scriptures that have been brought to me in past weeks.  Amazing!

Knowing that God's power can be shown more significantly through my weakness...why would I deny the suffering that comes to me? 

I miss my little Anna Danielle with such intense heartache...every minute of every day.  But God's grace is sufficient for each one of those sixty seconds in each and every minute.  And some days, it's all I can do but to desperately cling to God for that strength minute by minute.

But, because I know that when I am weak I am strongest, I can embrace the sacred grief and suffering...knowing that there is purpose in it.  

God, in His mercy, has already revealed to me some of the purpose of Anna's short life here with us. 

I can't wait to see what else He has in store.

A Song Formed in Weakness

A lot has happened since my last blog post. 

About two weeks ago, I had a major meltdown in the middle of the night.  My mind was reeling in grief and overwhelming sadness and anger once again.  This time I just wanted to throw the towel in.  I told my husband that enough is enough.  I can't take this sadness one day more.  He held me while I cried and threw my tantrum into the wee hours of morning. 

Satan is so good at what he does.

This happened on a Saturday night.  What timing.  I had to get up early Sunday morning to do my "job" of playing, singing and leading worship for three Liturgies that day.  While in my car on the way to the church, I wept to God about how unfair it all seemed.  So many mothers around me are having beautiful, healthy babies...one right after another...why couldn't I be one of those mothers?  Instead, I'm living with a broken heart day in and day out and to be honest...it was getting old.

I was tired of feeling this way.  I wanted the pain and heartache to go away.  I was trying so hard to embrace what I referred to as the "sacred grief" in my last blog post.  But the more I tried to embrace it, the more Satan was attacking me...telling me that I couldn't do this.  That I wasn't strong enough.  That God had abandoned me and left me to dwell in the pain alone.

Like I said, Satan is so good at what he does.

I began to give in to those piercing thoughts and negative feelings of self-pity, despair and loneliness.  I found myself saying out loud to God that even though I would be praising Him throughout the day in song, I was going to do my best to "not mean a word of it."

As I write this, I giggle at the thought of how childish I sounded in my mind when I spoke to Him once more as I was actually walking through the door of the church that morning...."Remember God, I don't mean a word of this!" 

But as I sat down at the piano to begin playing the very familiar notes and lifted my voice in union with my parish family, I knew that I did mean every word of it.  Denying my love and devotion to my Creator was like denying my very own being.  It just wasn't possible.  As I played and sang, my eyes couldn't help but glance at the beautiful crucifix hanging on the wall behind the altar.  Here I was pouting about losing my precious baby daughter, and my Savior was reminding me that His love was greater than the pain I have been feeling. 

I'm not downplaying the pain or grief when I say that.  What I realized was that Jesus Christ loves me (and every one of us) so much that He paid a price of a painful and agonizing death to overcome the most intense pain or agony that one can bear on this earth.  As I moved through each song that day, I felt God's healing touch on my heart.  I was once again thankful for the gift of the music that He has blessed my life with.  By the end of the day, I realized that Satan was really doing his best to distract me.  And I believe it's because big things are going to happen in the near future.  I don't know exactly what those things are, but I know that Satan wouldn't bother with me if it wasn't something important and powerful.

Almost a month after we lost Anna, I began hearing this "chorus" of a song in my head.  The words came to me clearly and I wrote them down one day while at work.  I set them aside, wondering if this "song" would ever form to a completion or if it would even go anywhere.  Another few weeks went by and I was drawn back to the poem that I had read right after I had given birth to Anna.  I posted the poem as the very first entry in this blog.  It was called "Fiat," which means "God's will be done."  That poem had resounded with me from the first time I read it.  And before I knew it, I began jotting down words to fill in the rest of the song that God was forming in my mind.  Within minutes, I had the entire lyrics completed to this song.  I decided to email the author of the poem to share with her how that poem affected me and that it inspired a song that I would like to record and publish.  She wrote back within a day and gave me her blessing to use it however I wished and that she couldn't wait to hear the finished product.

Another few weeks later, one week before the Sunday when I had the meltdown that I just wrote about, I was driving the 20-minute commute home when I began singing the words to the song that I had jotted down on the paper at work.  I was stunned.  It just came out of the blue.  So I grabbed my iPhone off of the passenger seat next to me, quickly found the record app and sang the entire song into my phone so that I wouldn't forget it.  But there was no forgetting it.  I couldn't get the song out of my head all night.  So, on Monday morning I called my friend who owns a recording studio and has helped me write songs in the past and told him about this song.  He asked if we could meet the next morning and start working on it.

We met the next day and within two hours, the song was complete. 

When we finished putting it together, we just looked at each other in amazement and then embraced.  We knew that the Holy Spirit had just done some powerful work.  And all I could think of were the words that the Lord spoke to St. Paul once again: "My grace is all you need.  My power works best in weakness."

One week later, (two days after said meltdown), I was in the studio...recording the beginning stages of this song that the Lord began putting in my heart only a short time after we lost our daughter.  My friend and I are still in the process of completing the project, but it won't be long before it's ready for production.

Once again, I'm amazed at the power we are given when we are at our weakest.  As I have been listening to the recoding we made that day, I don't think it even sounds like me.  I was so tired and worn from the rough weekend I had, with all the tears and very little sleep.  And I can hear all of the brokenness in my voice.  I have been tempted to go back and record it over again because of that.  But, I'm not going to.  The fact that I was so broken when I sang it in the studio that day makes it all the more "real" to listeners....and even to myself.

Even if the song doesn't really "go anywhere," I still feel that the Lord is using it to bring healing to me, my family and other mothers that I come in contact with that have lost babies in their lives.  I don't know what the Lord has planned with it, but I'm so grateful for this song.  It came from a broken Mom's heart and a God who is so great that only He can be strongest in our weakness.

New Loss and Familiar Pain

I began my last post stating that a lot has happened recently.  The creation of the song inspired by the loss of my daughter was one "happening."  But other serious life issues have taken place as well. 

One of them began on Wednesday night, September 11th.  As Eddie and I were just getting into bed to hopefully get a good night's sleep, Eddie's cell phone rang somewhere between 11:00 and 11:30 pm.  After he answered, I heard him say, "Okay, Mom, we're on our way!"  Before I even knew what was going on, we were both frantically changing out of our pj's and scurrying around to find our shoes, glasses, contacts, etc....during which Eddie was in a panic trying to dial 911 on his cell phone while explaining to me that Mom had been crying on the phone and saying that something was wrong with Buddy.  "Buddy" is what Eddie has always called his dad from the time that he was a little boy.  His dad used to call him "Buddy" and so Eddie did the same.  And it stuck....even as a 48 year old man, he still calls his dad "Buddy."

I asked him if Mom offered any details as to what was going on.  He said no, but that she was extremely upset.  We jumped in the car and drove the two miles to his parent's house, which seemed like a hundred miles that night.  I held on tightly to the dash board of the car as Eddie zoomed the very familiar back roads at about 65 mph, praying that no deer would jump out in front of us.  Our hearts were racing and only one thing kept going through my mind.  "Please Lord, let Buddy be okay.  We don't need another loss right now."

We burst through the door of his parents' house and heard commotion coming from the bedroom upstairs.  We bounded up the steps as quickly as our legs would move and saw Buddy laying on his side on the bed, still in his usual attire of jeans, flannel shirt, suspenders and black tennis shoes.  Mom was standing there crying, trying to help him.  Through her tears, she explained that she and Buddy had just gotten upstairs to get ready for bed.  She went into the bathroom and heard Buddy make a funny noise.  She yelled, "Dad, are you okay?"  But there was no answer.  She found him collapsed on the bed, trying to breathe and then called us.  He was still alive at this time, so Eddie and I got him down to the floor so that CPR could be administered.  Eddie tried his hardest, doing chest compressions and trying to get air in his lungs, while I kept checking for a pulse and yelling to Buddy to wake up and stay with us.  After only a few minutes, Buddy went limp and I couldn't find a pulse.  Before I knew what I was saying, I looked up at Mom and whispered, "I'm so sorry."  I ran downstairs to see where the rescue team was while Eddie continued working on his dad.  It seemed like it was taking the ambulance forever to get there.  We all live in a pretty remote area, so hearing the sirens within five minutes of an emergency call doesn't happen like I was used to growing up in the city.

I ran around to the front of the house when I saw the flashing lights in the distance and started jumping up and down, frantically waving my arms in the air to get their attention.  I could tell that the driver was trying to figure out which house was ours and within seconds, they saw me and sped up to get to the house quickly. 

The next two hours seemed to go by in slow motion.  The paramedics taking Buddy out on the stretcher.  Trying to get Mom safely into the ambulance.  Following the ambulance during the 12 mile commute to the hospital.  Pacing back and forth in the Emergency Room waiting area.  Our parish pastor, whom I called to ask and come be with us, walking into the restricted area of the ER department to see what was happening with our dad....and returning shortly to whisper to me that he didn't make it with sympathy in his eyes.  The entire family walking back to the cold, white room...Mom, Eddie, his two sisters, brother-in- law, nephew, niece and her best friend and myself standing around Buddy's now peaceful, lifeless body.  The doctor saying that he was sorry.

Another tragic loss for our family.

Eddie looked at me and said, "He's holding his granddaughter now."

Over the next week, we were surrounded by the familiar family and friends who showed so much love, support and prayers as they grieved another loss with us.  It pained me to see my husband's heart ripped out once again, only two short months after losing our daughter.  I prayed to God in my heart, "We are going to need your grace more than ever, Lord."

We gave Buddy a great "send off" with a beautiful funeral Mass on a cool, sunny, end-of-summer, September morning.  Our home parish choir came to sing for the Mass and Eddie's sister gave a beautiful eulogy in honor of her dad with her older brother, Eddie and her younger sister standing on either side of her in the front of the church before we took Buddy to his final resting place.  I had no doubt that Buddy was smiling from ear to ear as he watched his children pay such a beautiful tribute to him.

As Eddie and I climbed into his truck to join the procession to the cemetery, I felt a familiar knot in my throat and panic began to set in.  Eddie's parents' resting places are very near where Anna was buried only two short months ago.  I have not been back to Anna's grave since that Sunday afternoon, only two days after our daughter's funeral and burial, where I reeled with panic and anxiety when Eddie tried to take me there to "visit" our daughter.  I knew in my heart that I still wasn't ready to visit her gravesite, but I had no choice but to face being so close to it as we laid Buddy to rest.

When we arrived at the cemetery, I intensely avoided looking toward Anna's gravesite and kept my eyes and mind focused on the task ahead to support our Mom, my sisters-in-law, and of course my husband as we said our final goodbyes to Buddy.  Then, after the final burial prayer service concluded, I felt Eddie leading me toward Anna's grave, saying, "Sweetie, do you want to go see our daughter?"  My heart screamed "NO!" but I heard myself saying, "I guess so."  I didn't want to disappoint him. 

But with each step that I took toward where her body was laying in the ground, the familiar pain of emptiness in my belly and chest increased.  Although we were in the midst of a crisp, clear late morning of fresh air, I somehow couldn't breathe.  I let go of Eddie's hand and said, "I can't.  I'm sorry."

I quickly walked in the opposite direction and caught site of my parents' white minivan.  I couldn't get there fast enough.  As I hyperventilated against the van, I could see out of the corner of my eye people gathered around Anna's grave, laying red roses on it.  All I could do was sob and repeat over and over, "I can't do it."  The next thing I knew, my mom's arms were holding me and she was crying with me and saying, "You don't have to, Carrie.  It's okay."

I calmed down and walked to our truck and waited for Eddie.  He apologized when he got there.  But I assured him there was nothing to apologize for.  I'm so glad that he is able to visit our daughter's grave.  And it did bring me comfort to know that so many wanted to visit there as well.  I am just not ready.  Once again, it's a painful reminder that Anna is not where she is supposed to be right now...in my womb.  I'm hoping that once we get passed her due date of October 27th, I will be able to visit her gravesite with peace and not have that excruciating pain anymore.

Later that day, Eddie's mom, his sisters and Eddie wanted to go back to Buddy's gravesite to retrieve some of the flowers left there.  I was asked if I wanted to go along.  I wanted so much to support them so I said yes.  I just told myself that I don't have to go near Anna's grave, and after that morning's episode, I knew they wouldn't ask me to either.

We spent some time at Buddy's gravesite and collected flowers to make beautiful bouquets for each of us to take home.  Then we walked around the cemetery while Eddie and his sisters and Mom showed me the resting places of some their friends and family.  While we were there, I got a phone call on my cell phone from a woman in Pittsburgh who I had been playing phone-tag with for Eddie and I to get involved with a grief support group for parents who have lost children due to miscarriage, pre-term birth or infant loss.  I was grateful to take the call because it was a welcomed distraction while they were walking around the cemetery and even spending some time near Anna's grave.

I thought I had done well during that second trip to the cemetery that day, but by the time we arrived back to Mom's house with our collected flowers, I was completely drained.  While they were chatting in the kitchen, I retreated alone to the living room and let out the tears I had been holding in.  Eddie later came in to the living room and held me tight for awhile.  Then I asked him if we could go for a drive to just get a change in scenery for awhile.  He gladly accepted and we spent the evening winding down from all the painful events of the day.

There's more to share....but it will have to come later, when I have more time to write. 

Until then, here's a scripture that came to me last night.  It brought me to a place of certainty that God will not allow us to be tempted beyond our ability to endure the temptation to give up on hope and give in to the sin of doubting God.

"The temptations in your life are no different from what others experience. And God is faithful. He will not allow the temptation to be more than you can stand. When you are tempted, he will show you a way out so that you can endure."  -1 Corinthians 10:13

A Turning Point

What a difference a month can make.

Over the past several weeks, I have been learning so many lessons...lessons about the preciousness of life, about the sacredness of grief, about the value of pain and suffering, about myself as a weak and flawed human being...and most importantly, about the faithfulness of God.

At the conclusion of my last blog post, I had said that there was much more to write about.  I was hurting in a way that I had never known before.  We had just lost my father-in-law while we were still dealing with the fresh pain of losing our baby girl.  And although I feel that I have "come to terms" with it all, there are still days where I walk in confusion, disappointment and sometimes even anger.  But with each passing week, there are days where I can feel the weight of the pain lifting and other days when the pain is certainly there, but it's different than it was before. 

Over a month ago, I was also dealing with another burden of sorts that I hadn't written about.  On the day after Eddie's dad had died, while we and our family were trying to process another loss, I received an email from someone who I thought was a friend...someone whose children I had worked with at the church.  She was even one who had offered so much support to me through the early days of losing my daughter.

I'm not going to go into details about the content of the email because much of it is irrelevant to the purpose of this blog.  But one component of the message involved criticism about how I was handling the death of my daughter.  Talk about a punch in the gut.  As if it wasn't hard enough to manage through how to handle the grief that has overtaken my life these past few months, now I was being accused that my thoughts and writings through facebook and my blog were unacceptable. 

I know there was no way she could understand the pain I was experiencing, since never having lost a child herself, but I was not going to tolerate condemnation on how I was expressing my grief.  Until someone has walked in these shoes of losing a child and having to bury her body in the ground before I even had a chance to live life with her, there is no way to comprehend the insurmountable pain that comes with this type of loss.  The purpose in sharing my feelings, particularly through this blog, is not only for my own healing, but more importantly to reach out to other mothers (and fathers) who have had to deal with this same agony and heartbreak.  And, unfortunately, I am finding that losing a child due to pre-term labor, miscarriage or infant death still seems to be somewhat of a taboo subject for many.  Now fortunately, I have been blessed with an incredible support system through my family, friends and church family and have not had to deal with that.  But I have encountered some women through this journey that have had to deal with that.  There are women I know that are grieving the loss of their babies from many years ago, for the first time, by sharing in our loss of Anna.  We still live in a world that is very confused about the value of life and when it truly begins and ends.  If my words are hurtful to readers who are parents, I sincerely do not mean any harm with what I share here or even on facebook.  But, in wanting to help others going through this, I feel that it is important to be transparent in sharing some of the experiences for healing purposes.  When I read others' blogs or books about how they have dealt with the death of their child, it has brought me great comfort in knowing that I am not alone in this pain.  In fact, I greatly admire those who are willing to openly share their struggles as they continue to try and stay on the path of faith while dealing with it all.

I'm sure any of you reading this who have walked this walk know what it's like to feel isolated...maybe not because others have made you feel that way, but because you don't know how to cope with the pain while trying to be joyful with your pregnant friends who are having healthy, full-term pregnancies and happy lives with their babies all around you.  It isn't easy when you know that your mommy-friends are reluctant to be around you with their pregnant bellies and newborns because they don't want to add to your pain.  There's no way to describe how "schizophrenic" you feel when you're rejoicing with your mommy-friends in one moment and then having a nervous breakdown in the next.

But for those of you walking this journey....I know that you know.

And I want to assure you that you are not alone in that walk.  I can't stress how important it is for me to express that to you.

Over this past month, my husband and I had the great privilege of meeting some very special women who have walked and are still walking this journey.  Through a friend of mine, I heard about a grief support group, based out of Pittsburgh, named "Mothers of Angels."  This incredible group of women have all lost babies due to miscarriage, pre-term birth or infant death at birth.  Hearing their stories and how similar their journeys have been to mine and my husband's has brought so much comfort and reassurance.  I left the first meeting feeling like I was "normal" again.  I even felt like a part of my identity that I felt I had lost along the way had returned.  Listening to them speak words like, "I'm learning to live a 'new normal'" and "I want to keep my child's memory alive no matter what" echoed my own thoughts and feelings.

It amazes me how the Lord works in our lives.  Like a puzzle...fitting one piece together at a time, until it all makes sense and you see the bigger picture.  And little by little, healing continues to take over my heart and my life.  These women chose to walk through the storm instead of around it.  When we make that choice, the strength given to us is nothing short of a miracle.  And once again, the Lord proves that His grace really is sufficient.  He gives just enough light to see the next step on the path ahead of us. 

As painful as it is, I have wanted so much to face the pain and grief head on, because I want to heal.  And I know that there is only one way to healing....through the pain.  If we try to ignore it, shove it deep down or stumble around it, it always comes back to us in some way, shape or form.  And it's usually more terrible that way than it would have been to just move through it, with the Lord's help, from the start.

I found this to be true again the other day.  I met my mother-in-law and sister-in-law early one morning to go to Mass in the little town next to where Eddie and I live.  The cemetery where Anna is buried is only a few short miles from the church.  After Mass was over, I jumped in my car with all intentions of driving straight to work, when suddenly I found myself turning the car and driving toward the cemetery. 

Now, if you've read my earlier posts, you'll remember that I didn't do so well the last time I was at the cemetery.

I couldn't believe what I was doing, but I felt this strong urge to go there and visit my little girl's gravesite.  I even spoke out loud to the Lord, "But it's raining!  And I don't know if I'm ready for this yet!"

Yet, I couldn't bring myself to drive anywhere else in that moment. 

As I drove up the winding road into the cemetery to where Anna's gravesite was, I had butterflies in my stomach.  But the pain that I had experienced from being there before was not present. 

This time it was different.

As the rain pounded on the windshield, I pulled the car up next to where Anna's gravesite was.  I could see through the rain streaks of the driver's side window that there was something very different about her grave now.  Although I couldn't see completely clearly, I realized that her grave-marker was now there.

I got out of the car and walked over to her resting place.  Even in the cold, autumn rain, I felt this warm sense of peace come over me as I gazed at the beautiful marker on top of where we buried her tiny body only a few short months ago.  This time, there were no tears.  And I smiled.  Now it was complete. 

 

I was surprised at the peace that I felt standing there over her grave.  The Lord gave me a gift that morning.  Peace....peace that surpasses all understanding.  Only a month ago, I couldn't even walk near this site.  And now, here I was with no one else with me but my Lord.  And I was the first to see it.  It was an extraordinary moment for me.  I felt my daughter's presence and knew that she was there with me as well...giving me the strength and courage to stand there, soaking wet in the rain, and smile down upon this sacred ground.  I told her that I loved her very much and I missed her terribly.  I knew that she heard and understood.  My next thought was one that holds more value than I can describe: 

 

I knew that everything was going to be okay.

 



Anna's Due Date

October 27th.



I'll never forget the first time that date was mentioned to me after we discovered we were pregnant.



"October 27th is your due date!" the nurse excitedly told my mom and I when we were at the doctor's office getting my ultrasound "re-done."  I was six weeks pregnant at the time and had just found out that there was indeed a baby forming in my womb.  In one of my earliest blog posts, I talked about why the doctors and nurses were questioning the existence of our baby at the time.



October 27th.



That was the first time that significant date was spoken to us.  We heard it many more times throughout the next few months.  It was also a phrase that I used to answer that first question that came at me when someone learned that I was pregnant:  "Congratulations!  When are you due?!" 

"October 27th."  Big smile.  An October baby.  Just like the name of a wonderful movie I had recently seen.  I was so excited.  We didn't have many October birthdays on my side of the family.  I don't believe anyone on Eddie's side of the family had any either.  I loved that date:  October 27th. 


But on July 2, 2013, that changed drastically.  Ever since Anna's too-early arrival, I have now been dreading the date of October 27th.  I knew in my heart that it was going to be a tough day for Eddie and I...and for our family.

But once again, God's grace took over and got us through.

For the past month, I have been struggling with what we should do on what would have been her due date.  And Eddie and I decided that we wanted to do something enjoyable that day since that's what we believe Anna would want her mommy and daddy to do.  I know that she doesn't want us to be sad, but I have to admit that I walked through that day and pretty much the whole week leading up to it with a very heavy heart.  Eddie was finishing out his vacation week, so we decided to make a weekend of it.  On the day before, we gathered some of our family and a few close friends and went horseback riding at a beautiful place called Faith Ranch.  We bundled up in warm jackets, thermals, hats and gloves and rode for a 2-hour trail ride through the crisp autumn air on that beautiful ranch in Ohio.  We finished the evening with square dancing, roasting marshmallows on an open fire pit and a delicious dinner provided by the ranch staff.  It was a lot of fun.

Then the actual day came.  And although I was struggling with my emotions all day, it turned out to be a day filled with amazing surprises and special moments for Eddie and I.  First of all, the production of my song "Your Grace is Sufficient," which was written shortly after losing Anna, came to completion a few days before and I had decided that Anna's due date would be the official release date of the song.  So, at the exact hour of midnight on October 27th, "Your Grace is Sufficient" hit the internet via YouTube.  I posted the video on my facebook page and was humbled and awed by the response that it got by the end of the day on Sunday.  Hundreds of people had listened to it and shared it on their facebook pages.  It was viewed on YouTube around 300 times by the end of that day.  As I write now, three days later, it's been viewed almost 900 times.  All I wanted was for the song to reach people as a testament to God's grace in a horrible tragedy.  It has brought me so much peace, knowing that so many have heard its message. 

While the song was hitting the "airwaves," Eddie and I, my parents and his mom spent the day together, remembering Anna.  There is a Trolley Museum near our town that I've wanted to go to since before Eddie and I were married.  So, we ventured there to ride the trolleys, tour the museum and go to a pumpkin patch that they were having that weekend.  Eddie and I wanted to get a pumpkin from the patch for Anna and decorate it, but I was nervous about asking to do so since the pumpkins were only for the kids that came to visit there.  When Eddie and I started walking toward the pumpkins, the woman that was working there noticed that we didn't have any children with us and kindly informed us that the pumpkins were for the kids that day.  Eddie began explaining why we were there, and before he could even finish telling the woman, the expression on her face changed to sincere sympathy.  She said, "Please...help yourself to one in honor of your little one.  My daughter went through that also.  I'm so sorry for your loss.  And when you get to the craft hall to decorate it, you tell them that Nancy said it was okay for you to do so."  Her smile was so warm and kind and I was fighting back tears.  As Eddie and I turned to walk into the pumpkin patch, I noticed how quiet it was.  There were no children or other families around at the time.  It was another sacred moment for us. 

I could really feel Anna with us as we were picking out a pumpkin for her.  It was painful, yet so comforting at the same time.  Once we settled on the perfect one for her, we rode the trolley back to the craft station and decorated it.  We planned on leaving it at her gravesite later in the day.

 

 

I was so grateful that no one asked us about it when we arrived at the craft house.  We didn't have to explain that Nancy gave us the "okay" after all.  :)  Thank You for that, Lord.  So, we decorated her pumpkin and then headed out to the cemetery.

My mom had brought some candles, shaped like stars to place in the ground near her gravemarker.  She said the candles were for our "little shining star in Heaven."  We placed her pumpkin and candles, then my mom led us in a prayer together.

 

 

So, October 27th was not how we had dreamed it would be back in February.  But, it was still a beautiful day and I believe that Anna's spirit was truly with us and that she was so happy that her Mommy and Daddy were celebrating her life. 

 

I'm not sure if others understand this, but Eddie and I feel that it is so important for us to keep her as part of our life.  She will always be our little girl.  And even though she may not be with us in the flesh, her spirit will always be with us as she watches over us from the feet of Jesus.  My husband and I believe that with all of my heart.  And, if we are ever blessed with more children someday, we plan to tell them about their older sister, Anna, and the impact she has had on our life.  Her life will always be important to us.

 

I'm so blessed to have the privilege of being her Mommy.

 

 

Click here for the YouTube video of "Your Grace is Sufficient."  To God be all the glory.

 

The Pink Balloon

I know it's only been a day since I last posted, but it's been on my heart to share a story with you that happened this past Tuesday...two days after what would have been Anna's due date.



This story is about a pink balloon.



On Tuesday, October 29th, I went to downtown Pittsburgh with my mom, a pastor friend and two friends from our church to stand in front of the Planned Parenthood facility on Liberty Avenue in the heart of the city for two hours.  It was day 35 of the 40-Days-for-Life Campaign, which is an annual ministry that takes place in September-October to help end abortion in our city...and beyond.  I took part in this last year as well.  Those of us that feel called to do this, take turns in shifts to keep vigil outside the facility because that is where abortions are performed almost daily.  It is a very peaceful and prayerful time to be a visible witness outside the doors and offer support and help to any women who may be going into the facility to have an abortion. 

When we first arrived at Planned Parenthood to take over for our shift, I noticed a young couple with a baby in a stroller talking very excitedly to one of the women that had been standing in front of the facility as part of the ministry.  Hugs were exchanged between them and photos were being taken.  I overheard the young woman saying that her baby was here because of this ministry, and particularly because of the woman she was talking to.  When she was about 10 weeks into her pregnancy, or so she thought, she had come to this facility to have an abortion.  She explained that she had been at a very different place in her life at the time and made the decision to go forth with the abortion.  But, when she arrived there, this woman...along with others...had been standing outside praying and began witnessing to her about the value of her baby's life.  This young woman then decided to not go through with the abortion and was even given a baby blanket from the woman that ministered to her.  Now her son is 9 months old and she stated that he was the best thing that has ever happened to her.  She was so thankful that this woman talked her out of it and she wanted to come and personally thank her and introduce her to her son, who would not be here today if it weren't for her.  You can read the full story here. 

I was so happy for this woman and her child, and relieved to hear that what we do actually makes a difference.  But my heart became heavy once again, remembering how much I missed my own baby and how I would give anything to have the chance to have her with me like this woman got to have her son with her. 

As I was standing there listening, I noticed that someone had a display out on the sidewalk of models that look like babies at different stages in the pregnancy.  The models were very life-like, and there was one at the stage of about 24 weeks that was the exact size that Anna was when I delivered her.  Seeing this added to my sadness and I had to turn away so no one would see the tears forming in my eyes.  I then grabbed one of the signs that said, "Jesus loves your baby and so do we" and took my place near the front entrance of the facility and began praying.  But my prayers were interrupted with my own thoughts and I began questioning the Lord again.

"Lord, once again I stand here defending the preciousness of life, trying to be a witness to others so that they will not end the life that has been created inside of them.  I've been a part of the pro-life ministry for many years.  You know this.  Yet, why is it that I was not allowed to keep the life that was inside of me?"

This conversation with the Lord went on as I silently poured my heart out to him for the millionth time.  Just like the line in my song, "I ask You, my truest and deepest love, for an answer, comfort, sign from above...."

Suddenly, amidst the very chaotic and noisy street, filled with tons of traffic...trucks, taxi cabs, people hustling about...something caught my eye across the way.  On the other side of the busy street, I saw a pink balloon come bouncing along the ground around the corner of a very tall building.  The balloon stopped right at the sidewalk corner, near a newspaper stand.  My thoughts came to a halt and I just stared at it.

What was a balloon...a PINK balloon...doing in the middle of the city?  There was no logical explanation to where it may have come from.  But there it was, perfectly still for the moment, begging for a gush of wind from a travelling car to whip it out onto the street and get squished by the traffic.

The only thought in my head was, "No way."

And wouldn't you know that after a few minutes, that pink balloon began bouncing its way toward the street in front of me and somehow managed to make it all the way across without getting squished or blown away in another direction?

And then that pink balloon stopped right in front of where I was standing.

I looked over at the pastor that was standing near me and he just smiled.  He saw the whole thing too.

I bent down and picked up the balloon and held it in my hand for the next two hours, while I stood and prayed for all the babies who have lost their lives because of abortion and for all the babies yet to be saved.  I didn't know what the balloon meant, but I know in my heart that the Lord was telling me that He heard my prayers.  And I can't help but think that Anna had something to do with that too.  I've known since the day that we lost her that she is now an angel in Heaven, watching over her Daddy and I.  And I truly believe that she is a direct connection that I have to my Lord now.



As I stood there, holding the pink balloon, I said one last prayer:



"I love you too, Anna."

A Letter to My Daughter

My Dearest Anna,



Sometimes the days are long. 


And the nights...even longer. 


Even though it's been more than four months since you've been gone, there are nights when I'm lying in bed, waiting for sleep to come,  and I swear I can feel you moving inside of me.  Especially when I'm laying on my left side.  That was your favorite side, and I assume because it tilted you closer to my heartbeat. 


I remember when I first felt your kickboxing moves in my belly.  They were quite painful and I remember talking to you softly, begging you to please stop so Mommy could get a breath.  I knew then that something was wrong.  It shouldn't have been so painful.  And I shouldn't have had to ask you to stop moving so much.


But after a few weeks, the pain stopped and I welcomed your dances within my womb.  In fact, I waited for them.  It was a feeling I will cherish forever because it was the only movement I'll ever get to have of you.  Once I delivered you on that very early painful morning in July, there was only one more movement I got to witness from you...your left arm twitched once as you were passing away from us.  Even though your heart beat for a couple more hours after, that was the last sign of life from your tiny body.  I will never forget that.  It seemed so unfair that you didn't get to move anymore.


I took every ounce of you in that morning, from the tiny dark hairs on your head to your perfect toes, knowing that I will never see you again while I live on this earth.  But in Heaven....you will still be perfect in every way.  And I will not only get to hold you and watch you grow, but I will get to dance with you and sing with you and share all that I missed out on with you.  Oh, how I long for that day! 


I find it amazing how everything looks so different to me now.


When the first snowfall came earlier this month, I immediately thought of you and how I would have been bundling you up in your adorable snuggly, warm clothes that I'm sure your grandparents, family and friends would have bought for you to wear.  I could picture myself toting you up the walk from our house to the car in the driveway while you stayed safe and warm in your baby carrier.


As I have been getting our house ready for the approaching holiday, I keep imagining what it would have been like to have you with us at your first Thanksgiving with the family in our home....everyone fussing over you and the joy you certainly would have brought to our family, even as we will be mourning the absence of your Grandpap Ed this year.  When I set your Great-Grandma Goldie's china out on the dining room table for the Thanksgiving feast, I will picture you and Grandma watching me from Heaven, as she holds you in her arms and sings "In the Garden" to you.  Her favorite hymn.


Can you do Mommy a big favor?  Can you give me a sign that morning so I know that you and Grandma are there with me?


I imagine Christmas will be even harder for me.  I know that you would have been showered with so many gifts for your first Christmas.  There will be a stocking on our mantle with your name on it for Christmas.  It will hang there every year with your Daddy's and mine and hopefully your future siblings' stockings.  You will always be a part of our family. 


I don't mean to be a downer as we near the holidays.  I just want you to know how much I miss you.  And I share this with anyone who wishes to read it.  Because if they have lost a loved one, especially a child, I want them to know that they are not alone in their grief and pain.  But it's important for us to remember that as we await the coming of our Lord in all His glory, the Advent Season is the perfect time to reflect on all that we long for.  This world can never satisfy our greatest desire...to be with our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns forever and ever.


I know that you are with Him now, Anna.  Safe in the arms of our Savior.  And so are many others who have gone before us.   You give us even more of a reason to long for Heaven and live our earthly lives in a way that reflect the Savior's love to all.


I miss you, little one.


Love always,
Mommy