Moments of Grace: In the Fullness of TIme

I remember when we lost our second baby, Tristan, to miscarriage. It was hard to understand or accept why God would allow such a thing to happen. Yet, when Tristan's due date came and I was already pregnant with Judah, it made sense to me. Holding sweet Judah in my arms as a tiny one and whispering his name to him which means, "to praise",  I knew that in the fullness of time God had allowed such a suffering as a pregnancy loss for such a glory as Judah's beautiful life.

The moment of Judah's accident last week keeps me awake at night. The juxtaposition of the happy and delightful moments before is hard for my soul to digest. It had been an intense week, and I'd been caught up in the to-dos before we departed for Texas. On that day, with the sun shining and my children laughing and playing so delightedly, I made a conscious decision to just BE and PLAY for as long as we could.

I sat there gazing at our darlings playing and in a moment everything changed, as his little leg was broken in front of my eyes, and my whole being unable to stop it from happening. Delighted laughs to pain in an instant.

I have had to work to make peace with the fact that God allowed it to happen. Such a suffering, body and soul, for our son....and then I realized something beautiful!

Our Ezekiel is big...huge as a matter of fact. He is 100th percentile for height, 96th for weight, and wearing clothing that Judah was wearing last summer. It has been comical trying to understand 2 brothers built so differently, or even comprehend why I was given this particular challenge of an absolutely enormous baby to tote around in a season of life where the demands on me were already intense enough. My arms, legs, and back are strong by necessity because of going through the daily rigours of motherhood with a ginormous hunk of love on my hips. 

And then, a few days ago, as I was carrying Judah from one place to another and he felt like an absolute feather, I realized that in the fullness of time this beautiful grace was allowed....that I would have the strength and stamina to tend to a child who was rendered immobile by an accident. While it is a slight inconvenience to carry him everywhere, it is not in any way too difficult for me physically. This gives sweet Judah a sense of being safe, secure, held, supported, and in no way a burden for us in his brokenness.

Outside of time, and in His eternal perspective, God the Father saw fit to give me this consolation....knowing the sadness of a child with a broken limb, and knowing that it would take extra strength to help him navigate this challenge without discouraging him, I was blessed with a super huge chunky baby to build my muscles up.

Truly it may seem far fetched, but I know for a fact, with deep Faith, that this gift has been given us. I revel in this small inkling of the workings of God's grace in the midst of our human freedom,  and I say, "thank you."

"Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary, His understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might He increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint."                

Isaiah 40: 28-31

When Joy Evaporated

The memories are fragmented and disjointed, but certain nights - like tonight - they wash over me and I feel filled with grief. I am remembering that time when the joy evaporated.

I remember the joy. The immense overwhelming joy and relief of meeting our son and holding him in that warm water. "Hi baby hi baby I'm your mama I love you I love you." Of being tucked into our bed and snuggling our baby. Of laying awake most of the night in post-birth bliss missing my princess and waiting for when she'd meet her brother in the morning.

I remember snapping. The day that daddy was already back at work and we were alone. Baby brother's tummy hurt and sister was only 2 years and 4 months but I was annoyed, so annoyed that she wanted, needed, to be held and snuggled. No, I was annoyed because I wanted to snuggle her too and this baby wouldn't stop crying. I was filled with rage, all of a sudden, at this sweet 2 year old crying who wouldn't stop. I was filled with rage towards her. I was shocked at the monster of rage I felt.

I remember telling the midwives. "I'm very very tired." They told me they are supposed to ask me about feelings of depression. "No, I'm just tired," I said. I knew better.

I remember crying to my mom. Something felt wrong. But I didn't cry to her or anyone else again. I don't ask for help. There were meals being dropped at the door step and I already felt guilty. Apologizing to the midwives for our messy house, guilty for not writing thank you notes to friends, guilty for how I was mothering, when I could barely drag myself through the day.

I remember arriving to Maui. Baby was 6 weeks old and still had a sore tummy. I was up with him almost all night giving him gripe water and delirious after a long flight and no sleep. Big sister woke up with her daddy and I had already finished a pot of coffee (no wonder baby boy was so agitated!). "Good morning princess, we are at the beach look, look at the beautiful ocean, look at the palm trees, mommy loves you so much are you excited?" I said to her frantically, wanting to be a happy mommy for her, the tears rolling down my cheeks as my desire and my emotions in that moment clashed. I just wanted to take her to the waves and put her little feet in, but baby brother was so sad and I was so tired.

I remember introducing Judah to Nonna and Papa on that trip. I felt like I couldn't bring myself to leave the condo to bring him to them. How can I face the world? how can I smile and pretend it is ok? But I did, I did.

I was so confused. I loved...I LOVED....being a mama. But, somehow the joy had evaporated. I would see my friends pregnant with their second babies and want to yell at them, "don't have your baby, it's a cruel joke, everything changes, nothing is happy anymore." I would timidly express that I was finding it hard and people would say, "oh just wait until the third baby." I loved my babies fiercely and yet most days were hard days.

I remember...the memories last well past Judah's first birthday. They become less tragic in my memory but still feel heavy.

These memories came washing over me as I stood in the shower tonight because just recently I wondered if our 4th (one miscarried in heaven!) baby was on the way. He or she is not, but oh we dream about the next little love that will be ours, and oh the fear that grips me.

Finally when Judah was 16 months old, it was as though the fog lifted. Literally a physical weight came off of me and it felt easier to lift my head and smile. Laughter came spontaneously, the joy of mothering my children and being in this life returned. This life, this blessed blessed life. All along I knew it was blessed, I knew I was a lucky one, but I was stumbling through darkness trying to find something to hold onto that would bring those convictions back.

It sounds crazy to say because even with the deep dark sadness I LOVED my babies. Perhaps that is what made the sadness so deep and profound is that I could not understand it. It is hard not to let it haunt me. It is hard not to be very, very afraid that it will happen again.

And so, these are the moments in life when I cannot imagine living without our Faith. Without that act of surrender, of trust, of hope. It involves taking control of what we (my husband and I) can, and believing that grace will be sufficient to overcome any suffering we encounter.

"I have made you. I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you." Isaiah 46:4

I look at my beautiful blond boy, his darling older sister. They have no recollection of mommy's struggles. They know only that they are loved without question and without measure. Would I do it again, to have these beautiful babies in my arms every? Absolutely. Does this take away from the reality of the pain? No.

I share this because it is my story, and because maybe it will help someone who has similar struggles. Ask for help! You are not weak, you are not helpless, you are not alone, and there is much hope to be had. The joy will not evaporate for good, very soon it will rain down on you in more abundance than you remember ever having before.

May you be blessed with peace,

We Danced

Dearest friends and family,

Happy May! These first few days of May have been filled with sunshine, and we feel so blessed. Waking up in the morning and sipping our coffee with the new day's sun streaming in through the kitchen windows.....'sigh' it is so refreshing and invigorating. It is also a very real reminder to me of how filthy our windows are after the winter :) The sun is slightly dappled as it flows through the spotted windows. It is on the to-do list for this upcoming week.

I keep reliving a night two weekends ago in my mind. First, a little background (which in itself serves as further update!). One of the things that has kept us busy and blessed has been an intense relationship with my grandparents here in Calgary. Papa was diagnosed with Alzheimer's before Joe and I were even married,  but when we moved back to Canada and Joe had to spend almost a year unemployed, he spent at least a couple of days per week with Papa. Now, we still see them a couple of times a week (at least) for dinners, mass, breakfast, visits, etc. Although we have a large extended family in town we have been blessed with the capacity to be available for Nanny and Papa in a special way. We have learned so much and been so edified by Nanny's example in this suffering.

Alzheimer's is an ugly disease. The Papa that I remember so well....generous, loving, powerful, fun, strong....in many ways has already gone away. The truth is that most of the time now he is just cranky and rude, and he has lost the ability to filter like someone without the disease can. It takes self-control to not snap back at him or try to correct him. Nanny is so brave and strong by committing in love to spend all day and every night with this man who in so many ways no longer resembles the man she loved, married, and raised a family with.

Two weeks ago Nanny invited us over for a dance party. She had just replaced her old record player and she pulled out their records from many years ago. After dinner, with the stunning voice of Harry Belafonte and the upbeat strains of Fleetwood Mac playing loudly from the record player....we danced. Nanny smiled and laughed. Papa's face relaxed, his arms started moving, and there with his 6 layers on, his pockets stuffed full of all of the treasure he collects, he smiled and laughed. My mom swept Liliana up and they twirled and cuddled, Anna danced in her shy preteen way. The atmosphere changed, we forgot the challenges and fears that living with Alzheimer's constantly presents us with. I don't have any pictures of that night, but here are a few of Nanny and Papa, as well as Liliana and I, dancing at Mary and Keith's wedding a few months ago. I LOVE the happy smile on Papa's face.

What a lesson for me. I tend to live with an anxious and preoccupied view of our world. It is just who I am naturally, but at the same time I waste so many moments worrying needlessly in a way that doesn't allow me to live fully and truly ALIVE in the moment I've been blessed with. It was a reminder that sometimes we just need to have the courage to dance, and our hearts will be filled with the joy and hope that will bolster us for the next challenging moment. 

I have such happy memories of my childhood...Sunday mornings or special evenings when my dad would crank up the Neil Diamond and whisk my mom around the kitchen. My little heart would soar. Now, most evenings when I am cooking Joe will pick Liliana up and they will twirl through our house as I get dinner prepared. Whenever we go to my parent's house Liliana's first request is to dance with grandad. I hope she never loses her love for dancing. I hope we are never too busy to step back from the everyday and find joy in the dance. 

I'll leave it at that for now. I hope your first few days of May are just as beautiful and sunshine-filled as ours have been.

We love you!

xoxo