I grew my heart inside my body

My grief will never end because I grew my heart inside my body 3 different times: 

• James Isaac, stillborn on March 17, 1999
• Panya Ruth, miscarried on November 10, 1999
• Anna Rose, miscarried on November 22, 2005

Now, before you go attempting to correct me and bring out your Bibles and your scriptures and your examples of how things get better as time goes on and so on and so forth, etc., etc., etc., let me ask you a question: Did YOU grow your heart inside your body only to find out at the end of nine months that instead of bringing your heart home and loving him/her and watching him/her grow up to be a wonderful young man/woman, you had to bury him/her into a dark, scary, hole and walk away? And then you had to watch and pray that you didn’t flush your baby down the toilet?! Or any of the other number of horrors that come with child loss???

No?

For those moms who are with me, you know and understand that the grief goes on. Forever. Does it mean that we’ll forever lie in our beds, never getting up and out and about? Of course not.

What Forever Grief means for us is that as the children of our friends grow up, we are imagining what our babies would have been like “If Only. . .” things had been different for us. Mom, as you get yelled at for breastfeeding in public, we’re simply wishing we could breastfeed.

As you get to wipe your baby’s face after s/he’s eaten spaghetti for the first time and you laugh at the mess, we try to smile through our tears as we think about our son/daughter laughing and enjoying spaghetti for the first time.

Or when your son/daughter makes the ball team and you complain about his/her dirty uniform–again, we are wishing we had a dirty uniform to clean. We’d LOVE to have a dirty uniform to clean. The dirtier the better, in fact.

Is that your little girl/boy squealing in glee on the swing who you’re trying to tell to calm down because it’s just a swing? We’re wishing our little girl/boy could swing on the swing and squeal as loud as s/he wanted. We’d let her/him swing as high as the sky, jump off, and catch her/him while we squealed and laughed right along with her/him.

Did your son or daughter just graduate? Did s/he walk across the stage, lift his/her arms proudly, pumping them to be sure everyone saw him/her and make the principal shake his head with a smirk, embarrassing you while you couldn’t help laughing? We’re just wishing our son/daughter was here, too. S/He was supposed to be in the same graduating class with your boy/daughter. But s/he’s not. No walk across the stage. No graduation. No diploma. No college. No future. 

No marriage. 

So while you’re enjoying such things with you’re children, maybe for just one teeny-tiny milli-second of a moment, stop and think about all the Mommies (and Daddies) who continue to grieve every time we see you with your son or daughter because you have yours here with you….but we don’t.

Yes, you grew your heart inside your body, too, but at least yours is walking around outside your body for you to see. To touch. To hold. To discipline. To cuddle. To watch movies with. To hug. To love. Daily. 

Mine isn’t. So a little compassion please when the tears still flow even though it’s been 19 years (for me). Or 30 years for my friend. Or 52 years for my sister-friend I’ve met recently. And it doesn’t matter if our babies were infants or older. 

I know that there are those who feel the same way about the death of a loved one who is not a child. I am not challenging that. May God bless you. I am only sharing my heart and asking for a little compassion for those of us (any and all of us) who do continue to grieve our losses. I kindly ask the rest of you to quit making us feel as if we have to put our masks on–to perform–for you because we’re having a difficult day. 

You know what?? IT IS OK FOR ME TO STILL BE GRIEVING. Get over yourself. I don’t have to “get over it.” YOU DO. 

You don’t have to be afraid of me when I cry, Friend. Just hold my hand or rub my back or even just hand me a tissue and sit with me. It’s ok. I’ll be ok in a few moments. Crying is good. It’s healing. “It has to hurt if it’s to heal!” (The Neverending Story)

Don’t worry. I haven’t lost my JOY. Remember: I have to experience true sadness in order to know and understand true JOY. So let me experience the sadness. My JOY will be more JOY-FULL as a result. xoxoxo

Remember the Miracles

Seeing God’s miracles in the midst of grieving, even after 19 years, is not easy, but it is something I hear Him calling me to do. I’m going to be vulnerable here, folks, so please, be gentle and kind, ok? To this day, I still question, “God, where was my miracle?” concerning my stillborn son, James Isaac and each of my miscarriages, Panya Ruth and Anna Rose. You see, I’ve heard stories where women went in to have ultrasounds and there wasn’t a heartbeat, so they went back to their churches and began a prayer chain. The next time they went to see their doctor, their babies’ heartbeats were perfectly normal. Or of women who began bleeding as I did, indicating a miscarriage was imminent, but somehow, miraculously, they delivered perfectly healthy babies. I just couldn’t help asking God, “Where were MY miracles?!”

You see, I wanted each of my babies more than life itself. I knew each time I was pregnant that I was pregnant even before I had the proof. I began rubbing my belly immediately and nicknamed each baby. I grew up knowing I would teach (have the career) and be a Mommy. And be the wife of a Pastor. By the time I was pregnant with James Isaac, two of those dreams had come true. The third was about to. God was so good. I knew He was making the third come to fruition. I didn’t have the American Dream; I had my God Dream–my God Miracle.

And then I didn’t.

And my life was turned upside down and it has never been turned upside right since. In fact, it has been topsy-turvy ever since and all I want is off this roller-coaster. But yet if I get off the roller-coaster, it would mean forgetting my babies, so I here I must stay.

What I must do is begin to remember the miracles God did perform. The miracles I did get from God. It won’t get me off the roller-coaster, but it will remind me that God is still in the business of being Awesome and that even if I didn’t get the Miracles I wanted, He still performed amazing Miracles in my life that I need to remember. 

So here are just a few of the wonderful Miracles of God in my life, in no particular order:

• My salvation: I became a Believer at the tender age of about 3 or 4 years old. I’m not sure which it was, but I know I was very young. I know a lot of people have trouble with young children’s acceptance of Jesus into their hearts because they don’t always know what they’re doing, but I was quite precocious–if you’ll allow me to say so about myself. I knew that I loved Jesus and I gave Him my heart then and I have never wanted to take it back. Have I been perfect in my faith? Of course not. But I have done my best to serve Him with all my heart, all my soul, all my mind, and all my strength ever since I was a very little girl.
• Dr. Steven Merta: the doctor who delivered James Isaac and Samuel and who was there with me through each of my miscarriages. I can’t even begin to explain to you what a comfort he was and has been for me then and now. He was an angel God sent to take extra special care of me. Dr. Merta made sure that I was in as little pain as possible during James Isaac’s delivery and that I slept through as much of the labor as possible. (Yes, I had to deliver James Isaac naturally even though we already knew he was gone.) When we first saw on the monitor that there wasn’t a heartbeat, I cried to Dr. Merta, “You fix it.” He didn’t get upset; he just patted my shoulder and told me he would if he could. He is the one who reminded us to call home and back then, there weren’t cell phones, so we had to call long distance on the office phone; he told us not to worry about it. While I was in labor and sleeping, he even visited with my family. I remember waking up and hearing him chatting with them. I found that to be a huge a comfort. I can’t explain why. It just was. After James Isaac was delivered, Dr. Merta immediately laid him on my chest and let me hold him for as long as I wanted. He just took care of me. Dr. Merta even came to our funeral. I’d never heard of a doctor doing that. It meant the world to me that he came. And he was with me for each of my miscarriages. He took care of me each time. When Samuel was born, my heart rate shot through the roof and while all the nurses and everyone else around me went a little nuts, he calmly and coolly delivered Samuel and just took care of us. He was an angel.
• During my first ultrasound with James Isaac, the doctor found a cyst on my left ovary. When I went in just a few weeks later, the cyst had grown a centimeter a week. Concerned that there wouldn’t be enough room for both the baby and the cyst at the rate the cyst was growing, I had surgery during my 20th week of pregnancy–between Thanksgiving and Christmas in 1998. I had to be awake for the safety of both Mom and James Isaac. My doctor’s name was Dr. Caparossi–another angel sent by God. He had to remove my left ovary and fallopian tube, but everything was healthy otherwise. (Yes, I do wonder why we didn’t take James Isaac then. But the surgery was a success; all was well and the longer he “percolated” in my belly, the safer it was for him. How were we to know what would happen just 18 weeks later?)
• When we first got to the hospital to deliver James Isaac, my nurse was the wife of one of the doctors in the practice with Dr. Merta and her name was Angel.
• When Dad answered the phone when I called home to tell them, he knew and all I had to say was, “Daddy.”
• ALL of my students at the time came to the funeral. *My heart.*
• My family has always been there for me.
• The fact that I have had Laughter in my life at all even after having a stillbirth and 2 miscarriages.
• Tears.
• David and Phyllis Watson: James’ brother David also came when they heard we’d lost our James Isaac. Phyllis had lost a baby, too, many years prior. Our loss was her loss; she had loved our James Isaac, too. They went with us to the funeral when we went to make arrangements. We had been told that it was “free.” Once everything was set, the funeral director said, “That’ll be $100.” James and I just looked at him blankly. David stepped forward with the $100 and told us it was a gift. *My heart.*
• When I left the job I’d been at when I lost James Isaac and Panya Ruth, God provided the next job practically immediately.
• During my quiet time with Him one day, He called me His “Joy Song”
• My Mom–there are no words, but she has been another angel who has let me cry and who has listened to a LOT
• Katie, my sister, who has called and who has sat on the other end of the phone and just listened to me cry
• Songs that have come on the radio or across my Facebook at exactly the moment I needed to hear them
• Every single Hug I have ever received
• I haven’t killed myself. There was this one day, in particular when I was driving in the parking lot on campus and I started to speed up towards one of the lamp posts. I didn’t slow down, but yet here I am.
• When it was time to deliver Samuel, my heart rate went up to over 200 beats/minute. My wonderful cousin Robin Hodge who has been a neonatal nurse all her adult life was in the birthing room with me (mom made her after what had happened with James Isaac) and noticed the irregular heartbeat. Things got pretty “hairy”–to say the least, during Samuel’s delivery. I was pretty out of it, what with the drugs I was allowed to have because, yes, I was too scared not to go through that experience without them. I desperately wanted to have Samuel naturally. You see, I’d had to deliver James Isaac naturally even though he was already gone. It was very important to me to deliver this son naturally, as well. Please don’t make me say the words as to why. I just can’t do it right now. But Dr. Merta was prepping the operating room for an emergency c-section because of what was going on with my heart. He checked my progress one last time before wheeling my bed down the hall and made the declaration that it was too late. I was just lucid enough to be aware and relieved and ready to push and do whatever he told me to do. Within minutes. my Rainbow Baby, my Miracle–my Sunshine–my Precious, was in my arms against my breast, breathing, crying, warm, and oh, so wonderful. He was HERE. And, like Hannah, God had answered my prayer. He was my Samuel.
• My massage therapist.
• I haven’t killed or hurt someone else. (I won’t name names.)
• Our trip to Disney World. (Thank you, Katie.)
• Fairhaven Ministries. They even told me to come when I told them I didn’t have any money.
• Samuel’s joyous laughter.
• Samuel’s cuddles.
• Samuel.
• Cardinals. God has sent cardinals to remind me of His Son and His goodness just when I needed them, every time.
• Sunflowers. I love sunflowers. They are another reminder of God and His Son and JOY.
• I survived Mona. (Don’t ask.)
• When I miscarried Anna Rose, someone with whom I had a prior connection came and held me–even though I was on the toilet (sorry, Katie) while I screamed and cried.
• Our finances.
• I’m still here. I’m alive. When I was in the hospital in 2009, I seriously almost died. James has told me numerous times that he saw Death in that hospital room. I saw Demons. I also saw Angels fighting those demons for my life. Guess who won?! (For those of you who don’t know, I had a severe diverticulitis flare-up/infection. I was in the hospital for a week while they tried to deal with the infection with meds but finally had to do emergency surgery. I had to wear a bag for three months; after three months, Dr. Cox (another angel, btw) reversed the previous surgery and removed 8 inches of colon.) 
• When I was about three years old (or somewhere in there), I almost drowned. Kenny, my brother, and I had been dipping our toes in the water while the pool refilled and I slipped and went in. Dad had been mowing and came flying from the other end of the pool and saved my life. 
• When I was a teenager, I choked on a piece of meat. My brother Kenny had to give me the Heimlich to save my life.
• About 45 days before my wedding 25 years ago, I was in a car accident that rolled my car several times. If I hadn’t been so short, I would not have walked away from that accident.
• His High Places Ministries. I went for a week-long session, expecting God to move and Boy, Howdy, did He!!! Praise the Lord!!!

I may not have received the miracles I wanted, but God has performed many wonderful miracles in my life. I haven’t even named the so-called “little” miracles!

What about you? What are some of the wonderful miracles of God in your life?

What I really wish others knew about me is…

What I really wish others knew about me is…that I may walk around day in and day out with a huge smile on my face, telling those who ask that I am “Peachy,” but the truth is that I am more often than not wearing a mask. Yes, my Lord has anointed me with His oil of JOY more than anyone else, but inside, my soul continues to scream in pain because 3 of my children are not here on this earth with me. Their absence is ALWAYS on my mind and in my heart and soul. 

James Isaac-3/17/99
Panya Ruth-11/10/99
Anna Rose-11/22/05 

No matter the age, child loss is NEVER easy

A close friend of my family lost her grandson over the weekend. He was only 25 years old. Yes, the loss is tragic and horrific. He was the only child of his parents, but one of approximately 7 grandchildren for my friend. 

In spite of the fact that I have lost children myself, I still find it difficult knowing what to say or how to offer comfort to my friend and her family. Hugs simply don’t seem to be enough. I know that words right now really aren’t as much comfort because so many words can be accidentally hurtful and that is the worst thing we as friends, family, and loved ones can do for those grieving so heavily. 

I know this is how my friends, family, and loved ones felt with each

of my losses, but this time, I’m on that side, too, and I simply feel useless. I know that my friend and her daughter’s family are believers, but I also know that as a believer myself, even words of scripture from well-meaning, well-intentioned loved ones could pierce my heart like a sword and make room for the enemy to creep in–to pull me ever deeper into depression and anxiety.

Think of Job’s friends and how they spouted scripture at Job and reminded him of things of God, but in the end, only Job was found righteous by God. God even had Job sacrifice and pray for his friends to be forgiven because of their unbelief and lack of true concern and understanding of Job’s situation. The best thing Job’s friends did for him was sit with him in the early days and grieved with him.

I know it’s not much. I know it feels as if we are completely useless if all we do is BE there, but it truly is all many going through the very earliest stages of grief need—or can handle. They don’t know how to do handle the wave of emotions that explode through them, so we can’t possibly expect ourselves to know any better how to handle things or what to do. Telling a grieving mother that God only gives us what we can handle is a lie from the pits of hell because that mother most certainly has more than she can handle as she lays the body of her beloved child in the cold, hard dirt. 

My heart is broken for my beloved friend and her family. I offer each and every family member and loved one up in prayer and ask God to provide the comfort and peace that passes all understanding that only He can provide. If we’re going to mess up when helping our loved ones through their grieving, I pray that we err on the side of LOVE.