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

a Savior born

Advent.  Expectant waiting.

Christmas. The birth of a long expected Messiah-- a gift of mercy and grace.

This year I approach Advent and Christmas with a different heart, one that feels a bit battle worn. Nothing feels quite the same anymore, even Christmas.  I love this time of year and I want to enjoy it like I have in years past. But, I don’t know if that’s possible. I think it will always feel different, even when this time of intense grieving is over. I view the world and most experiences through a different lens now. I know it won’t always be so hard, but as with many other things, this time of year is now more complicated.

This year I’m not just waiting for the Christ child to be born. I’m waiting for His redemptive work to bring healing, restoration, and peace. I’m waiting for His mighty hand to shift frustrating circumstances. I’m waiting for the day when the pain of this life will be behind us and the joy of eternity with Him will be in front of us. I’ve never been so thankful for that little baby born in a stable. The day He was born was the beginning of a wonderful story. It brought powerful meaning to my own story and to my baby boy’s story.

When we think about Christmas, our hearts become warm and we romanticize the events of Christ’s coming. Yet this year, I’m struck by the idea that His coming to Earth as a baby , the years that followed, the anticipation of giving up His life for the sake of ours, and His actual death on the cross were evidence of His surrender to the will of God for the sake of our redemption. We think about Christmas and we imagine the wonder of God becoming man, coming to Earth as a baby, the Savior born! And yes, it is a story filled with goodness and joy, but it is also a story of great sacrifice…for Jesus, His heavenly Father, and His earthly parents.  They each gave something that was not easy to give.

Jesus—He gave up His heavenly home, forsaking His equality with God

God the Father – He gave His only Son to live as a human and eventually die an unfair death

Joseph & Mary – they gave up a normal life, one that fit their plan, and a clean reputation

The first Christmas was most definitely filled with grace, wonder, and beauty, but I also believe it was messy and hard.  I’m thankful that God in his infinite goodness chose to send his Son for us. What love, what grace, what sacrifice. It’s the giving up of so much that makes it beautiful. I suppose that’s why we love Christmas so much…an immeasurable gift was given. Something we simply did not deserve and suddenly it was ours. This Christmas the pain of loss is real in my own heart, but I hope that is going to allow me to better understand the sacrifices so integral to this story.

I hope and pray that the wonder of this season fills your home with joy, peace, and love. It’s the prayer I’m praying for our home as well. Merry Christmas, friends.

With love,

Rebecca

Luke 1:46b-47

My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.

Abundance

The holidays are tricky for those who grieve. The sense of loss refreshes in our minds. During a time when the focus is on time spent with family, you can't help but realize family photos will feel incomplete and not every stocking needs to be filled. But as we step closer to Thanksgiving, I'm working hard to remember that which I am thankful for. There's quite a bit, really. Tim and I are truly blessed people.

Family. Home. Church. Marriage. Friends. Income. Freedom. Faith. And above all, we are saved by grace.

Today, I'm remembering to say, "Thank you" to the Giver. He gives abundantly.

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.

"Thank you" doesn't feel like enough

Today my heart is full. I’m missing my baby, just like every day…the wounds still raw and open. But, my heart has been filled with the kindness of a group who shaped part of who I am today.  I’m floored by it -- the generosity and thoughtfulness of those who have blessed my life in countless ways in recent years, but particularly this year.

The school community in which I spent the past three years wants to create a memorial for Ellis. Parents and teachers have joined together to make this possible and every time I let the thought sink in, tears come again. It’s so simple, really. They want to plant a tree. And yet, the idea of that tree perpetually growing, casting beauty, and reflecting the glory of its Creator, all in memory of Ellis, warms my soul. The idea is to plant it somewhere on the property of our church…a place that with the change of jobs this year, I now go every day. A place that is just down the road from our house. We run, ride bikes, and drive by this place so often.

Thank you, Westgate. You surrounded me during the hard days of waiting, supported me after he was gone, and now remember him in the days that linger. It means more than you know.

With love,
Rebecca

Run/Walk for HoPE

Seeing as so many of you who read this blog are from Southern California, we thought you should know about this event being held on October 15th at Biola University. Some members of Rebecca's family are hoping to go and would love to make a group event of it! Online donations can be made on the Familes for HoPE website. Make sure to indicate the donation is for the 5K being held at Biola. Visit Rea of HoPE for more info. You can also find out more by visiting their Facebook page.

We wish we could be there to honor Ellis and celebrate the HoPE that can be found amidst a devastating diagnosis. If you decide to go, please let us know!