Hello, again

I stopped writing. I don’t know why. Even my journal has been neglected these past few months. There’s no real answer, but I think I just needed to live life for a bit and process quietly. My mind wasn’t ready to articulate the thoughts, emotions, and experiences we were dealing with at the time…even in the privacy of my own journal. So, I took a break and that was good. But today, I sat down to read someone else’s writing and suddenly I missed my own words. I’d picked up the pen and began writing personally a few weeks ago, but it was still sparingly. But today, all of a sudden, I missed writing. So, there are no promises that this writing will continue, but, for now, my voice is ready to be a bit more audible again.

The quiet was good. It was needed and, I think, a part of this healing process we’re still going through. Our hearts have grieved, struggled, ached, hoped, and healed over this last year. I don’t think we’re done with any of those things, as we continue to experience each one.  A year later, it’s hard to envision who we were before we were ever told, “Something’s wrong with your baby.” I’m becoming more comfortable with my new self, but it has been a long year getting to know her…a very long year.

With love,
Rebecca

6 months

Half a year. It doesn't seem possible for my time with him to be so far away on the calendar. Soon we'll turn the page to a new year, leaving him behind in 2011. Part of me is ready to start a new year, hopeful that it won't be so hard as this one has been. But, the other part of me is sad to move on into a year in which he never lived. For Tim and me, 2011 was defined by Ellis. I remember pondering that during New Year's Eve last year. I thought to myself, "This is the year my baby will be born. 2011 will always be important to us." I had no idea that it would also be the year my baby would die.

6 months later I still struggle with the idea that all of this was unfair. I see God's blessings and grace and know that those too are unfair, but the unfairness of losing Ellis does not sit well in my heart. I don't always feel this way, but it would be dishonest to say that I never felt this way. I'm working on it. I'm learning to trust that His way is truly good and that the plans I concoct for myself are not promised and may not even be good. It's a difficult road to navigate when what you desire seems to be a good thing. Seeing Ellis healed here on Earth, didn't seem like a bad idea. And yet, God in his infinite goodness chose to do otherwise.

I spoke with another grieving mother on Christmas Eve and she shared wonderful insight and words of love with me. She reminded me that we have a choice when we suffer and that licking our wounds, dwelling in the dark, is not going to bring about healing. The little baby born in the manger should cause those of us who suffer to celebrate more than the rest this Christmas. I have to admit, my heart did not feel very celebratory over the weekend, but knowing that my baby boy is rejoicing in Heaven this holiday season reminds me that I should be rejoicing with him. He sees it from a different perspective than I do, but we celebrate the birth of the same Savior. And without that Savior, there would be no reason to rejoice.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, as well.

With love,
Rebecca

Thoughts at 4 months

Here we are again, acknowledging the passing of another month. It’s been four now. Sometimes I allow myself to think about what it would be like to be celebrating four months of life, as opposed to only remembering that it was four months ago he was here. It’s a big difference. He’d have grown so much by now, I’m sure. Now that autumn is truly here, we’d make sure to bundle him up warm and cozy…probably acting as over-zealous first time parents who are sure the baby will freeze in this mid-fifties weather. Maybe we would’ve moved him from our room into his room. I’d probably be missing him at nights, wishing he were closer. Kind of like how I miss him now, perpetually wishing him to be somewhere nearby. And of course, I’d be worrying and researching about taking him on his first airplane ride as we’re heading to see family over Thanksgiving and then again at Christmas. Instead my life is very different, quite void of all of that.

I’ve found I can’t let my mind stay in that place where “what if’s” contrast so starkly with reality. It’s not good for my mind or my soul. But Tim and I both think about it from time to time and it makes me wonder what it would be like to experience all of that. For now I watch those life-altering transitions occur in other family’s homes and hope for the day when it will happen in mine. This is a House of Hope, after all. Our minds may get stuck in the wondering why this is our reality and not that, but that does not mean we are not without hope. Our tender hearts are learning to trust that our big, good God knows what He is doing. I can rest in that, even when my heart becomes anxious wondering what our future will look like.

There are still some who are brave enough or kind enough to ask us how we’re doing. I know not everyone is sure how to handle that. I think some are afraid they will open up a wound by asking, but the truth is the “wound” is still open and never far from our minds. We’re not being reminded of its existence when someone asks, but more being reminded that others remember Ellis too. Tears may still come when someone asks, “How are you,” but that doesn’t mean we don’t welcome the question.  And still, four months later, we don’t always know what to say. So, we often stumble over our words and come across as confused. I guess that’s because we are. Grief is quite confusing.

Let me explain.

We ache. My heart still physically hurts most of the time. Even in those moments when laughter fills the air and there's fun to be had, it's still there.  

We have hope. We pray for restored joy and believe that God will grant us that. It makes it possible to get up and do it all again each day.

We’re scared. What will the next year of our lives look like? We’re now very aware that you can plan out your life all you want, but no moment in the future is certain. It can be hard to face an unknown future without fear.

And yet, we’re thankful. God has been so incredibly good, even in this. There is honestly so much to be thankful for that I don’t know where to begin. So, you’ll just have to trust me that we are truly blessed people.  

The emotions are conflicting and it’s hard to convey all that we think, feel, and experience. As much as I can write and talk about all of this, I feel as though I can’t adequately describe the journey. We appreciate that we’re still able to tell our family’s story. For now, we continue to heal, grow, and change through all of this.

With love,

Rebecca

October 15th

Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.  It’s a day set aside to pause and remember each of those little lives that have made such a big impact. It’s not just Ellis. Every day others’ stories are being written. In many ways, October 15^th is just another day for us, but now because of the turning point in our own story, today is an opportunity to stop and reflect…to remember. Perhaps, for someone else, October 15^th means something, just like we have many dates that carry deep meaning for us.

December 16^th: we found out a baby was on the way. Worry, fear, and elation filled our souls.

January 5^th: we caught our first glimpse of that precious baby. Joy and anticipation beat within our hearts.

April 6^th: we saw him again, but also heard those awful words, “incompatible with life.”Again, fear, worry, and now sorrow coursed through our veins.

June 27^th: he came and he went, we held him in our arms. Overflowing love, indescribable ache, forever changed.

August 17^th: his due date. He was already gone, but that date represented something poignant, something that might have been. Empty arms and lingering pain, but paired with hope and, again, anticipation of joy to come.

So, although today, October 15^th, is just another day for us, it now carries meaning because of all those other dates that tell our story. Today is a reminder that all those lost babies were precious lives, particularly for those that carried them, whether in their womb, in their arms, or in their hearts. The parents of these babies remember them every day. Other family members and close friends may as well. Today we ask that others do too. It might not be your story, but it is ours. So, please…remember with us today.

3 months

3 months. In many ways I’m shocked to find myself here. How did time move so quickly? My heart remains bound to the moments when I could feel Ellis kick, hear his heartbeat, or better yet, hold him in my arms. And somehow, our time with him seems so far away. For many others, his life may seem distant despite the fact that thoughts of him fasten to every other thought in my mind.  I guess it is just that way when the baby was yours and not somebody else’s.

And yet, with each new day I’m reminded that I’m one day closer to him. My baby is already living a jubilant life in Heaven with Jesus. When I stop and truly consider that, it’s astounding. He’s living and he’s in Heaven with Jesus. It’s exciting. It’s overwhelming. It’s hopeful. It’s good. In my best moments, this is where my mind dwells. I’m praying for more moments like these.

3 months later, there is still so much to process. I keep discovering new things about myself, my husband, our families, our friends, and our God. Every child is a gift and we are continuing to experience the blessing of Ellis, even if we didn’t bring him home with us.  Our hearts ache, because we were the ones left behind, but our hearts can simultaneously celebrate because new life is ours too. Since our God was and is willing to give “new life so generously” we can hold onto that hope. One day, one amazing and glorious day, we will live as Ellis lives: in Heaven with Jesus. I can’t wait.

Titus 3:3-8 (The Message)

"It wasn't so long ago that we ourselves were stupid and stubborn, dupes of sin, ordered every which way by our glands, going around with a chip on our shoulder, hated and hating back. But when God, our kind and loving Savior God, stepped in, he saved us from all that. It was all his doing; we had nothing to do with it. He gave us a good bath, and we came out of it new people, washed inside and out by the Holy Spirit. Our Savior Jesus poured out new life so generously. God's gift has restored our relationship with him and given us back our lives. And there's more life to come—an eternity of life! You can count on this.”

Living well

How do we live life well?

I used to ask this question, or a version of this question, before Ellis was even a hint in my imagination. I wondered about how to best live as a daughter of the King in my circumstances.  I wanted to serve Him well in my role as daughter, sister, friend, wife, and teacher. Nothing extraordinary, just regular life, but the question was how to do it well. Then, April 6^th came, and for the first time I heard the words “incompatible with life.” I now had to figure out how to live life well when my context included waiting for my baby’s birth and impending death. I remember asking Him to help me live those days with beauty. They were hard days, but looking back I can see the good He gave us during that time. And now, since the moment that Ellis was born and so quickly delivered into the hands of Jesus, I again am asking, “How do I live well?”

Each time the answer has been the same and it will continue to be so. Look to Him. There’s no other way. He gives it meaning. The moment I make it about myself, it falls apart. As soon as I try to take the weight of it all upon myself, I begin to crumble. There’s comfort in knowing the answer remains the same, no matter the circumstance. It’s the constant answer to the constant question, even when life is anything but constant. It strengthens me as I face the future, looking ahead to continued days of unknown. Because what I know of Him is good and it will always be that way.

-Rebecca

The Truth

This coming Monday it will have been 7 weeks since we met our baby boy and held him in our arms. It feels like a long time ago, which is hard. We don’t like feeling so far away from June 27^th, because it makes us feel far away from Ellis. The memories aren’t as fresh and already we begin to wonder, “did it happen this way or that way?” For us, the memories are a mix of joy and sorrow. We met Ellis! But, we also had to give him away. It’s not easy to do that so quickly.

Daily we’re asked, “How are you doing?”Honestly, it’s a tricky question to answer. Sometimes we don’t know what to say, because our emotions are all over the place. In the moments when I’m feeling at peace, I fool myself into thinking I’ll feel this way all day. Only to be kicked in the gut with sorrow or frustration. When I feel deep in the pit, I think I might never get out, yet joy and peace find their way in. So, to answer your question: We’re doing OK…I think. We have moments of joy, sorrow, peace, and frustration. Sometimes, all in a row (practically simultaneously), but from what I hear, that’s OK.

As Tim and I navigate this path, there are three thoughts I keep running into. You know when you feel like God’s really trying to teach you something because you keep hearing or reading the same idea over and over. Well, that’s me right now. Ever since April 6^th, when we heard something was wrong and knew our lives would be changed because of it, I kept coming back to the simple truths about God I’d been taught my whole life. These three truths have been in my thoughts frequently these last few weeks.

1.       We are in the midst of God’s perfect plan for our lives. Strange isn’t it? Life doesn’t feel perfect right now, yet I know God is sovereign and I believe His ways are perfect. This is part of God’s plan for our lives. I don’t fully know why, but I know I can trust His will for my life.

 “This God – his way is perfect”  
-Psalm 18:30 (ESV)  

2.       God’s grace is sufficient. It’s bigger and greater than my biggest and greatest problem. Those low moments we find ourselves in are not without hope, because we KNOW God’s grace still covers us there. And it is He who carries us through those valleys. It is in God’s nature to give abundantly and He gives us a bottomless ocean of grace.

 “But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 
- 2 Corinthians 12:9 (ESV)

3.       He is near. These last four months have been hard and there have been moments, days, and weeks when we felt like we were just scraping by. But, I can say with confidence that I have never experienced the nearness of God like I have in these last four months.  There are days ahead that can bring me to my knees with fear and anxiety, but thoughts of those days are coupled with the knowledge that God is near. I have never been more certain of that in my life.

 “But as for me, the nearness of God is my good”
-Psalm 73:28 (NASB)

Today, nearly 7 weeks since Ellis was born and died, we are thankful to know that our God is good. He is so very good.  

“Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good. His love endures.” 
-Psalm 136:1 (NIV)

With love, Rebecca

Two Weeks Later

Somehow two weeks have managed to pass by. It seems strange that two weeks ago, Ellis was still growing in my womb. At the start of that Sunday, I thought he was still safe. I knew he wasn’t healthy, but for the time being, he was safe. This morning when I woke up, it felt so much like that Sunday, except that the absence of Ellis was piercing my heart. I know he’s in Heaven…it brings me joy when my heart is feeling especially heavy, but sometimes Heaven seems so very far away. I want to picture him there, but sometimes I can’t. I often pray that God will give me glimpses of Heaven and what Ellis’s life might be like there.  

I’m reading a book by Randy Alcorn titled Heaven. It’s putting details into what my imagination had already begun to envision, but I think God is helping me to see what that place is like. Reading about it and pondering it helps it to feel not so far away. Our little Ellis taught us so much these last few months. He helped to set my sight on eternity. Although I knew this was the ultimate as a child of God, I don’t know that I truly lived it until now. God created us for more than our years here on this Earth. He created us with eternity in mind. Our little boy, the one whose breaths only lasted a few minutes, is the one who taught us that lesson. It’s humbling. And thankfully, God is gracefully using it to bring me joy. There is joy in knowing that Ellis is already living out his eternal calling.

With love, Rebecca

Letter to Ellis

I wasn't sure what would become of this blog after Ellis was born. We started it with the intention of keeping people informed, allowing them to pray more specifically for us. Some have asked me if I will continue to write now that Ellis is gone. While pregnant I spent alot of time reading the written words, through books and blogs, of those who had experienced the loss of a typical pregnancy, a "typical" child, or the life of their child. Those words have been encouraging and educational to me as we've walked this unusual path. Now that we are on this side of things I continue to journal, just as I did before. Writing has been a healing process for me and I hope to continue. So, for now, House of Hope will be a place to continue telling Ellis's story and share our thoughts as we process this experience and heal. I hope my words can be an encouragement to others. Thanks for being with us throughout this journey. We have loved sharing Ellis with each of you.

Below you will find a letter that was a compilation of two different journal entries I wrote in the days after we met Ellis. My sister, Sarah, was kind enough to read this for me at the memorial service this past Friday.

My sweet Ellis,

      Monday was your Birth Day. On that day, you blessed us in a whole new way. You came to us. You took a few breaths and your heart beat to the sound of life. You came feet first –leaving your footprint on our world. Daddy and I were scared about you coming, because we knew you’d probably be gone so soon. But, you came and we loved every moment we had with you. We long to hear your beating heart again, like we did as we waited for you to come in that hospital room. We hated to say “Good-bye,” but are so glad we got to say “Hello.”  There is joy in knowing you are home with Jesus.

       I love to picture you running, jumping, and laughing in heaven. My heart is full knowing the joy and freedom you have there. You’re worshipping the Lord fully there, perfectly fulfilling your purpose as a sweet child of God. Daddy and I can’t wait to see you there someday. It gives us hope and helps us push through the days.

      Ellis, your Birth Day was so special and there aren’t words to adequately describe it. I held you in my arms on that day. I don’t ever want to forget how that felt. I want to remember the excitement of hearing Daddy say, “He made it! He’s alive!” I want to remember seeing your full, dark head of hair, feeling your soft skin, smelling your fresh baby scent, and noticing your chin looked like Daddy’s. I miss having you here. I think about how I carried you in my womb and in my arms. I miss your kicks and tumbles. I miss hearing your heartbeat. I miss your long fingers wrapped around mine and your soft, rosy cheeks.  Your earthly body is what I picture in my mind, but I’m sure your heavenly body won’t compare.

      It’s difficult for my mind to stop thinking “pregnant,” where my every thought was, “What does Ellis need right now?” I thought about you all the time. From the way I made sure to lie on my side as I slept, to choosing the right food, to praying over you when I would wake in the night. How could I not think of you in every action when you were my constant companion? You needed me. And now, you don’t. Although Jesus met your needs better than I could while you were here, He is certainly providing for you now. He’s healed your body completely. I can’t stop imagining what that must be like. You are perfectly healthy and whole in ways that you weren’t while you were here. Our big God is so good, but, of course, you already know that…much better than I do.

       My sweet baby, there are hard days ahead for your mommy and daddy, but we are at peace knowing you are in a much better place. I’m praying Jesus will share my written words with you. I can’t wait to be with you again. You will have to show me the best parts of Heaven. For now, I’ll worship our big, good God with you from this place. I love knowing that is something we can still do together.

                I love you, Baby Bear.

                                -Mama