Six Hundred and Seven Days and A Bright Red Fish

Luke,

Six hundred and seven days. That is how long it has been since your brother was born.

I have had to navigate my life without him and still so very much with him for that long. Before I start crying and can't get out what I want to write, I want you to know what an amazing and unimaginable salve to my heart you are.

You are not your brother. You are never expected to be anything but you. But I want you to know that for every hug and kiss I give to you, I hope that when you have sweet dreams and somehow are connecting with Matthew (and every thing in my gut tells me that somehow that is happening!), it would make Mama so happy if you would share some with him.

I remember daring God to heal my heart. I remember telling Him that He just couldn't do it without bringing Matthew back, and I doubted I was going to be anyone of that miraculous scope in this world.

Of course, He didn't bring Him back. And the hole is still and always will be there.

Instead, He blessed me with you. A type of healing for a wound that will always exist, but not scream out in agony day after day as it once did. You are the balm that soothes that wound. When I get overcome with all the should-have-beens and the it's-not-fairs, I pick you up and you smile at me with such a knowing smile, I SWEAR that God is telling me, "I know. I'm sorry. It's not what I had in mind for this world, but I promise, one day, it will all be ok. Until then, drink every precious thing of this little boy I've given to you in. He's special and he's purposed and one day, the veil will be lifted."

At least that's what I tell myself He's telling me. That's what I cling to.

Yesterday, we went out to lunch with Miss Sherry, Jack and Avery. Avery is only about a month and a few days shy younger than Matthew would be. It was precious and hard at the same time, watching this beautiful little spitfire shine! She made my heart happy--fiery but nurturing, spunky but readily giving hugs and kisses. I admit, it made me wonder about how your brother would be. You, as always, were so good. Sweet, snuggly and such a blessing. We went outside so that Jack could feed the turtles, and of course, the seagulls took everything he threw. There were turtles all over the place, and even a poor, disheveled duck! It was a pretty decent-sized pond, and Miss Sherry and I were talking about the what-ifs down the road.

What if we have another baby brother or sister? What if we could? What if we couldn't?

Do you know what came, out of NOWHERE, right over to where we were?

A RED FISH.

Out of the blue. Seriously. One single, bright red fish came right up to where we (and the turtles and the gulls and the duck!) were.

I know, I know...we can read just about anything into anything.

But Luke, I get such comfort out of those little winks from God. I looked at you and you smiled at me when I told you about the Red Fish.

Like you knew.

Mama loves you so much, Luke. You are a ham and have started doing some weird thing where you tuck your lower lip in your mouth, over your gums. It's funny, because Mama used to do the very.same.thing. Wish I could find pictures. You are also in the throes of teething and just finished a hearty portion of homemade rice and homemade applesauce.

I know people thought I wouldn't stick to either cloth diapers or making your food, but I have to tell you that I love, love, love both.

There are not too many things in this world that give me more pleasure than taking care of you.

As I said, you are never to be a replacement for your brother. His permanent mark and space in our family and our hearts doesn't need to be replaced. I wish it was filled with his chubby little cheeks and loooooong spindly legs running around with me here on earth, but either way, he is our Matthew today and forever. You are always, always, always the little brother of my miraculous gift from God, but that also makes you the answer to so many, many prayers.

And Samuel Luke, God Heard. He gave you to us to bring light back into our days.

Always know that at this very second in time, at 9:36 am, July 28, 2011, my heart is overcome with gratitude for you and Matthew.

Mama adores this smile!!!!!

Seriously, you are a mess. Rashy cheeks, applesauce you must have been storing in your cheeks dripping out, drooling all over...and yet, you are SO.SO.SO cute!

You crack me up with those faces!!!!!

Your lip thing. Must feel good on your gums!!!!

Slight Change Of Plans....

So....the contractions definitely kept coming!

The 'real' ones...the ones that really hurt, are pretty frequent, and make my entire stomach tighten up like it's a rock-hard medicine ball.

Until I went to bed. Then they settled down some, didn't keep me up (in fact, only remember one through the night!) and were ok this morning...until we got to our appointment and I told Dr. Sweeney about them. At first, he seemed like he wasn't worried and then I told him how many I'd been having and he looked a bit more concerned. When I told him I had a few that I was glad I had bones in my fingers (the better to bite down on when one of the contractions HURT!), he immediately said, "Let's get you hooked up and see what's going on."

So...off to another NST we went. Oh, and after that, a cervix check. UGGGGGHH....

I was SO glad that one of the 'perks' of this whole scheduled, early c-section was NO need for those checks. Have I mentioned how much they hurt?

No?

Well, THEY HURT.

Anyway...at first the contractions were about 8 minutes apart. Then 6. Then 3. Time to check that cervix out! I should say that they didn't hurt much more than they'd been hurting yesterday, but I do remember from Matthew some of the nurses being pretty impressed that I wasn't as uncomfortable as I should have been based on the strength and length of some of my contractions...even before medicine! I think I just have a little better tolerance than I give myself credit for sometimes. The nurse who did the exam was SO gentle...all things considered. I was about 1 cm., and 50% effaced. With Matthew, I was 1 cm. for weeks, though I never got past 50% effaced, even with 24+ hours of induced labor! We asked Dr. Sweeney what we should do--he said he'd admit me, but that Luke was doing fine, and he really felt like I just needed to REALLY take it easy--nay, bed rest--and call if anything changed. We asked if we should stay in Annapolis to be closer and he looked conflicted. He asked where we'd stay/what we'd do and when I said, "We'll just stay in a hotel...no big deal!" he looked relieved and said that wasn't a bad idea!

Not to mention John didn't sleep a wink last night. He feels too far away as well. I've been in bed all afternoon, rotating sides. It helps, though the frequency is consistent, the pain isn't really and that's what they said was more important. We'll head into Annapolis no later than Saturday and hang out until Tuesday for the big birthday party. I think that will make all parties involved rest a bit easier.

Luke has been going bonkers still....definitely enjoying his last few days of stay and throwing quite the party! I can't even explain how grateful I am for every single movement. I wake up in the middle of the night and tell myself, "He's probably sleeping; it's not a big deal that he isn't moving right now," and then I'll feel a little wiggle or roll and nearly cry...I do a LOT of thanking God for those little movements through the night...and I have to say I never, ever, EVER even thought about them with Matthew. He moved SO much during the day, I just assumed he HAD to get some rest at night. He was such a good sleeper...and was pretty kind to me as well.

Not that Luke is not...but I admit, I would rather be woken up with movements. Much more reassuring to me since I am aware of all too much since Matthew died.

Still looking at Tuesday...don't think he's going to be earlier, but it's better to be close by just to be safe.

Quite the busy day!

Be A Blessing...

It's that time of year, right? Everyone is happy and jolly...says, "Sure...I'll donate a dollar to whatever charity the store of your choice is touting," and feels good about doing so. We can dig a bit deeper into our pocket and not cringe when we see that red Salvation Army bucket because it IS Christmas, after all, and if you are ever going to give a few bucks, now is the time, isn't it? We see the Toys For Tots (SUPER WORTHY, by the way, and I'm not biased at all by being a Marine spouse!) boxes overflowing with the kindness and generosity of people who just can't imagine little ones not having something to squeal with glee over at Christmas.

So the bigger question is whether we can be that kind and generous with children across the world? Children who squeal with glee over FOOD. Food, people. Children who regularly frequent dumps for nutrition and clothing and shelter and children who languish in orphanages because they are stuck in such political tugs of war that they can't even be adopted, though they have so many people who would love nothing more than to give them forever homes.

It's no secret that Kyrgyzstan is close to our hearts...and has been for several years now. When I hear the song, "Love Them Like Jesus" (which I really can't listen to, if I am honest, because it still makes me break out in tears), I think of all the people we have been blessed with this year...all the people who have held our hands and cried with us and shared our heartache and joy and every emotion that we didn't imagine could even exist.

"The gifts lie in wait, in a room painted blue
Little blessing from Heaven would be there soon
Hope fades in the night, blue skies turn to grey
As the little one slips away

You’re holding their hand, you’re straining for words
You’re trying to make sense of it all
They’re desperate for hope, darkness clouding their view
They’re looking to you

Just love them like Jesus, carry them to Him
His yoke is easy, His burden is light
You don’t need the answers to all of life’s questions
Just know that He loves them and stay by their side
Love them like Jesus"

I ask of you to love these little boys and girls in Kyrgyzstan. So many always ask what they can do...how they can help us or if we need anything. We are so abundantly blessed. The reality is that there really isn't much that we need. Or that can be done that eases the heartache of missing our Matthew.

But there are those who DO need. I may not be able to give my Matthew the Christmas I dreamed of giving, but I can help give those sweet children the gift of hope and knowing they are precious.

And so can you. Seriously...$5 makes SUCH A DIFFERENCE to a child.

http://actofkindness.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-realize-i-am-falling-so-far-behind.html

This link will take you to John's site where you can donate. I didn't realize there were only 4 days left!!! If I am honest, I thought the challenge was that if the goal was raised, the person WOULDN'T get a pie in the face, and if I am REALLY honest, if the goal is achieved, I *may* play the pregnancy card and beg for a pardon this year! When you click on the US Donate button, it will go to Paypal and allow you to denote in the messages "I'd like to throw a pie at: " and you would enter my name. But honestly, I don't really care for the credit or not...I care about whether or not they meet the challenge...and those little boys and girls are fed and clothed and for even just one day, KNOW they are loved like Jesus loves them.

No Reason and Every Reason....

Sometimes, it may *seem* like there really is no reason for the tears you *cannot* stop to be pouring out of you.

Then you realize that you visited your baby's grave after church like it was a normal part of life and remember that most days, you have EVERY reason for the tears to pour...you just do a good job of holding them in and trying not to let them control you.

A year ago this day, we celebrated the impending arrival of my sweet boy. It was a wonderful, wonderful day and though I originally protested the idea of a shower at all, I'm so thankful that my martyrdom was not paid one bit of attention and a beautiful day for me, John and Matthew was forever imprinted as priceless in our hearts and minds.

One year ago today.

I still just do not understand how that is possible.

When looking back for the post about the shower, I came across THIS post...and cried and cried and cried and cried.

And am still crying. Because even now, knowing how it all has turned out...my love and appreciation for that precious, precious baby boy has not waned one bit and though I am hurt and sad and angry and confused and so many other emotions I can't even name....one sticks out and rises above them all.

Grateful. I am so, so, so grateful for every second I was given to carry my son. I am grateful for every intimate and sacred moment only I got to share with him. I am grateful for his life and the lives he has touched in only the few hours he was born. I am grateful for his very existence and I am grateful for every gift and blessing I've known because of him.

No matter what, I cannot help but be on-my-knees grateful to God for giving me the miracle of motherhood to a most precious, precious boy.

Make that two precious boys.

SO...today, I admit is hard. Well, every day is hard, but some are harder for me to contain the emotions than others. This is one of those.

I may be backward in my feelings because I know for a lot of people, getting to 24 weeks or beyond is a really, really comforting place in a pregnancy. It's 'technically' the point where a baby could live; where there's theoretically something that could be done and the baby could live despite issues.

For me...I have to say that I somehow had more peace and assurance before we hit 24 weeks--when it was really out of anyone's control, and if truth be told, if something was to happen to the baby, there's nothing that could be done--there was NO denying that my or any caregiver's actions would be able to give a different outcome.

Because the bottom line is that we made it WAY past 24 weeks. We made it past delivery. We had a 'fighter', as his nurses called him.

And he still died. It seems to me that there's more scariness in theoretically being able to save a baby than there is in knowing that it's truly out of your hands before a certain time.

I just don't know how my heart could bear losing another precious boy. It can barely beat with the one we've already lost.

Grateful...

I'm very grateful for a lot of things. I am keenly aware as I read other blogs or watch tv or read books or just listen to people that I am very blessed and the most devastating thing in my life could be (hard to believe, but true) so much worse.

I'm grateful that I have John. His work is crazy-demanding and he has a million things he is responsible for and he will still make me Oreo Blizzards (no DQ near us!) when I ask.

I'm not sleeping well still, and my back is starting to take on that familiar ache in the very same places it did with Matthew, and yet--as I sit on the couch with the laptop and a blanket, the sun is just peeking through the window on my left and is giving me glorious little glimpses of shadow and brilliance at the same time. Sort of how my life feels many days...brilliantly lit but always shadowed. I used to sit just like this with Matthew as I got closer to his delivery because I couldn't sleep then and I'd dream of how nice and quiet it'd be in these early hours with just him born and me loving every second.

I'm grateful that I'm reminded of those sweet moments, even for just the few minutes the sun stays in this position.

I'm so glad I have amazing, amazing people taking care of me. Seriously, the baked goods I bring to the doctors show nowhere NEAR enough of my gratitude! I know so many others have to fight for good care and advocate for just basic reassurances and the people taking care of me worry if I sneeze the wrong way. I am so thankful for the care Luke and I receive and even more thankful that I have no regrets about the care Matthew and I received.

I'm glad that Matthew's birthday has not been forgotten one single time in the last 8 months. Beautiful flowers have been arriving on the 28ths and remind me that family is certainly not just dictated by blood.

I'm extremely happy that for the most part, people do not hurt my feelings in things they say or do.

For the most part.

Realistically, what more could I ask? Even *I* don't know what will sometimes hurt my feelings until it's happened.

I love feeling little, teeny, tiny Luke kicks.

I love self-seeding flowers. Vincas make me happy.

I love that butterflies seem to be all over my garden this year. Verbena makes them happy!

I'm so happy to find sour skittles. Or when sour skittles find me!!!

I adore smiling babies.

I cannot BELIEVE some surprises! (I won one of the Angels at A Baby Named Nathan! I never win anything, except for things that have a pool of 1:5200 or something like that...)

I'm getting excited about what I'd like to do for Luke's nursery. I love this baby. I want his room to be perfect and special for him. I am the one who will have to come to how to do that while I go through the process of Matthew's room becoming Luke's. He will not suffer for it.

I love saying, "My boys." I love their names and I love the character and strength and purpose behind them.

I'm so glad I don't have any qualms about rambling.

A bit ago, I heard Casting Crowns' If We've Ever Needed You, and adored it. Loved it. Took it to my own heart. If I've ever needed God, it is NOW. It has been in the last 8 months and 11 days.
I love that that song has been playing in my car at least 3 times a trip and I wake up at 3:13 in the morning and it's running through my head.

I'm grateful for God's redemption and restoration.

I admit that seeing Halloween candy out in the stores right now makes my heart leap.

I've been to so many beautiful places in the world.

The cruise is soon!

I know what miracles look like. They have dimpled chins and big feet.