Blossoms appear

Look! The winter is past.

The rain is over and gone.

Blossoms appear in the land.

The time of the songbird has arrived.

The cooing of the mourning dove is heard in our land.

Song of Solomon 2: 11-12

Some good friends of ours sent this rose to us shortly after we found out about Isabel. It has sat next to my sink for almost an entire year now. At first my mom took care of it, she put it in the bowl and watered it. Throughout the year, I would occasionally notice it and give it a drink. I wondered if it would live. I knew it needed to be planted, but it looked so small, I just didn't want to put it outside in the winter. So it sat by my sink, every...single...day.

A week or so ago the last leaf fell off the stem.

I was secretly glad.

It was dead.

I wouldn't have to worry about it anymore! But then the other day, I was shocked to see a new sprout (top picture). I was so surprised, I took a picture. And then it seems only a day or two later, this happened...

Giving a plant in memory of someone who has died is a great idea. It's good in the long term sense. But in the interim, during that initial period of intense grief, requiring someone to tend to anything other than the very basics also raises questions about whether the plant will survive or not.

With the plants we received from friends and family, there seemed to be a lot of pressure in my mind and heart for 'these' plants. Because they were associated with Isabel, it was almost as if they were Isabel. I had to take extra special care of them, I couldn't let them die, and yet I also felt no desire to care for them.

This was a problem.

I felt I had to plant them in the most perfect spot. Which increased the pressure for this decision and made me not want to commit to planting them anywhere because I couldn't decide where the 'right' spot would be. All this at the time when I cared the very least for such things. I had no desire to care for a plant. And in the heat of June, a potted plant sitting outside in the heat needs even more care to be kept alive. A few of them did die. At the time I really didn't care.

Did I mention that already?

I guess I am belaboring this point huh?

In hindsight, something that I would have appreciated (although I didn't know it at the time) would have been a work party, a group of people getting together to get the plants in the ground. It may seem weird but I really didn't want to see anyone either. I just didn't want to feel like people were wondering 'how' I was doing. I felt awful emotionally and physically. I was depressed, with good reason I guess. So if you ever have the opportunity to do this sort of thing for someone I would suggest that there be no pressure on the person to 'entertain' visitors or to be out in the midst of the planting party.

Another way to bless someone experiencing a loss is to mow their lawn. We spent a few days out of town for the funeral which was held in my hometown, a few hours away. When we came home and drove up to our house we found a nicely mowed lawn. Our neighbor's son had generously mowed our gigantic lawn. That simple act was such a blessing to us, especially my husband. I could feel his burden lift a little. That was one less thing for him to worry about.

I wouldn't say I feel like 'the winter is past', but with the arrival of spring along with the passing of time, I have a renewed energy and will to wield a shovel.

I finally made a decision and planted almost all of the plants we were given in honor of Isabel. I put the Peace rose bush and the Dogwood tree next to each other. The dogwood blooms pink blossoms (shown above) in June around the time of her birthday. In years to come, these thoughtful gifts will be a pleasant reminder of our precious pink blossom.

What about you?

What things helped minister to you the most?

Glory Baby

I saw this clip on The Flick Family Blog. It was written by the husband and wife team that make up Watermark after losing their baby through a miscarriage. You can see the lyrics to the song here.

His ways

For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.

For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways,
and my thoughts than your thoughts.
Isaiah 55: 8-9



I have been reading the book of John to the kids while they eat breakfast. This morning we read chapter 18. The kids and I talked about the following verse and how it relates to our experience with Isabel:

Then said Jesus unto Peter, Put up they sword into the sheath: the cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?
John 18:11


None of us like pain. If we could, we would never get a cold, fall down and skin our knee, crash on our bike, and certainly not watch our baby die before our very eyes.

Jesus came with a purpose, to do the Father's will. As painful as He knew facing the cross would be, He rebuked Peter when he tried to defend Him from the guards that had come to take him there (to the cross) . He chose to drink the cup that His Father had chose for Him, because He knew His Father had a plan, a purpose for what He was asking Jesus to do.

As much as we wanted the Lord to save Isabel and us from losing her, He didn't. I believe that He didn't for a reason. As Isaiah 55 states, His ways are higher than our ways. As painful as life can sometimes be, I want to experience the life HE chose for me (us) rather than escape it, because I trust Him and His purposes.

A hat for Natalie

Here is a tiny hat I made for a friend of mine. I made it for her daughter, Natalie. Natalie passed away almost 8 years ago. She weighed somewhere in the 1 pound range. She was only 24 weeks and she was a twin. Her sister lived, and is now almost 8 years old.

It may seem strange to many...why knit a hat for a baby who has been dead almost a decade?

Well, because at the time that my friend had her baby girls, and lost one of them, I didn't know how to knit. And I didn't understand her pain. But since losing Isabel, I regret that I didn't do more to acknowledge Natalie's life and her mother's pain.

The other weekend, I knew I would see Natalie's mother and something hit me. The idea that I wanted to knit a hat for Natalie. Mostly, for her mother. So she would have something tangible to touch and hold when she takes down the inevitable box of keepsakes.

And plus, every baby deserves to have at least one item made just for them.

I used some very soft yarn from a recycled sweater, it was 55% silk, 30% angora and 15% nylon. It had a nice halo. I used some pink baby alpaca leftover from Isabel's blanket as the brim. I made it very small. I wanted it to be the right size for her, had she lived. It turned out so sweet.

I felt a little strange giving it to her mom, but I explained and I think she understood. In fact, I'm sure she did.

Reflections

I found a discussion on abortion and Isabel came up in the comments section. I ended up leaving quite a long comment that I wanted to post:

I really wanted to comment about the question of why someone should carry a 'doomed' baby or a baby that the medical community has stated will die after birth.

I must admit that as soon as I found out that our baby would die shortly after her birth, I did want it to be over. The doctors told me I could go into labor anytime, or go to full term. There was so much grief. Grieving for an event that had not yet happened. Something that was for the most part, inevitable. I wanted her to be born ASAP, just to get it over with. There was that feeling, that I just wanted it to happen and be over. But we grieved, and we also had the rock solid belief that nothing was impossible for God.

The doctors told us there was no chance for her to live, and we assumed for the most part, that they were right.

But God.
There was always that sense of ...but God.

We knew without question that He had made Isabel. He could easily heal her before she was born. He could heal her after. Who can know the mind of God? No one. We would not dream of taking a chance to intervene and say "she's not going to live, therefore, let's kill her now in order to escape this situation we're in a little earlier." That was His place to decide when she would be born, how she would be born, and when she would die. Not ours.

Even though we never considered ending her life through an abortion or as the doctors offered to stop her heart with a saline solution and then induce labor, so I could give birth to only a dead baby, I have thought about it since.

An abortion would NOT have made the situation easier. It might seem that it would, but it would have only added to our sadness and guilt. The end result would have been WORSE. Instead of honoring our daughter's life (she WAS and IS our daughter, a PERSON, my children's sister, someone we had prayed for and hoped for), to just dispose of her as soon as we heard she was not 'viable' would have been discarding the thought of her as a person, as all of those things I put in parentheses above.


When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.

- Isaiah 43:2


There is a sense that if we could just end whatever is causing us the immediate pain, then it would be better.

But it's a lie.

Of course I wanted to escape. But we were in the situation, there was no escape. It was time to deal with what was on our plate. God choose to walk with us through our tragedy, instead of whisking us out of it through a miracle. It is not my place to presume on God. He chose, and I accept His plan for not just my life, but so many others (my husband, my children, my parents, my mother-in-law, my sister, my niece & nephew and many others).

We see life on such a small scale.

He sees with eternal eyes.

We hear that a newborn baby has died and think it is such a 'shame'. What a waste of a life. But we just can't know what her life accomplished. I don't know and I don't honestly expect to until I am with Him.

But we will know someday in eternity what her life accomplished. In that day, we will be grateful to Him for His wisdom in working all things together for the good of those who love Him and are called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28).

Isabel is safe with Him. I wanted to experience life with her, but I will have to wait. We all will.

The bottomline is that I trust my God. As painful as it was, I don't want to escape His plan for me. I want to learn and change and grow into the woman He wants me to be. He is the potter, and I am the clay.


My life is but a weaving
between my God and me,
I do not choose the colors,
He worketh steadily.
Oftimes He weaveth sorrow,
and I in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper,
and I the underside.

Not till the loom is silent,
and shuttles cease to fly,
Will God unroll the canvas
and explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful
in the skillful Weaver's hand
As the threads of gold and silver
in the pattern He has planned.
- Author Unknown

Before

We were all so excited driving to the ultrasound. My husband had taken that Friday afternoon off. Our appointment wasn't until late afternoon, actually the last appointment of the day. It took a good hour and a half to get there, but it flew by because the kids were excited to be doing something different and I was excited about seeing our baby who would be born soon. Pregnancy is no picnic for me and I was counting down the weeks to the day I would get my prize, my treasure.


It was a beautiful, clear spring day. My daughter was wearing her brown cotton dress with the light blue shirt underneath. I loved that outfit.

It was before.

Before we knew.

We were on the cusp of knowing.

We were happy and innocent, thinking only the best of what could be. I see pictures and think, "That was before." or "That was right after we found out." I look at those smiling faces in the picture and feel bad for those people, because I know a secret that will change their lives, and they don't know it. At least, not yet.

All five of us crowded into the exam room with the doctor and the ultrasound equipment. Since it was a naturopathic doctor, he was free to share what he saw. Unfortunately, this time, it was ugly and he didn’t sugarcoat his comments for Isabel’s siblings.

“I don’t see any kidneys.”

I lay there frozen. What did he say? I waited for him to say something to make up for his last comment. It didn’t get any better.

"This is a severely abnormal baby."

I don’t think I will ever forget those words. They were ripping, tearing, searing words. He told us her condition was ‘incompatible with life’ and she would die shortly after birth. He couldn't say how long, I remember him saying "ten minutes".

As soon as we heard this news, I wanted to know the baby’s sex. I had never found out before, I had loved to be surprised at the birth. You see, I was old-fashioned. But now that was all foolishness for people in a perfect world. A world that we were no longer a part of. We had no time to waste.

He thought she was a girl, but it was hard to tell with no amniotic fluid. In my heart, I knew she was a girl.

We were ushered into a nearby birthing room, a box of kleenex shoved into my husband's hand. Our daughter twirled about the room in the most adorable way, completely unaware of the bomb that had just been detonated. The rest of us sat huddled together on a couch crying. My youngest son stared at his little sister tootling around the room and said “...she brings us so much joy. Imagine if she wasn’t here?”

Everything had changed. The date that I had looked forward to and longed for was now a day to dread. A day that we hoped would never have to come

We drove home through a veil of tears and in virtual silence.

99 Balloons - Eliot's Story