It's Advent!

I am honored to be featured on this, the first day of Advent, as a guest writer on CatholicMom. With some great editing by my friend Anne, I think it turned out beautifully. I'm so proud of it, and humbled that people actually are reading it!

Joy in the Midst of Suffering

Where is the time going! Christmas is only a month away. Julie was so excited about putting up "Peter's tree" so we bought a potted Alberta pine on Friday and hauled it and all the accompanying decorations to the cemetery on Saturday. We all enjoyed the first Christmas activity of the season, and enjoyed doing something special for Peter.

Merry Christmas, Peter! We love you!

Newspaper article

Maria Wiering from the Catholic Review wrote a wonderful article on Peter and our story. I am amazed at the number of people who will learn about Peter, be touched by his story. It's truly awe inspiring. I love that his memory is being kept alive and that more people are going to know about our journey. I pray that people will read our story and realize they, too, can carry their child to term after receiving a severe prenatal diagnosis.

Photographs

For families who lose their child to a fatal condition, photographs are so very important. They, along with pieces of clothing or foot print molds, are often the only things we have to remember our babies by. Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep is a wonderful organization staffed by volunteers who take pictures of babies who are stillborn or expected to die shortly after birth. Our photographer from Heartlove Photography took some truly amazing images of Peter that I would like to share with you all. 

God's will

It's been just over 8 weeks since Peter left us and I ache for a baby in my arms. I know that's "normal" after you lose a baby but knowing something is normal doesn't make it any easier. I held a little one year old girl for only a moment, just long enough to feel her pudgy belly under my hands and have her look into my eyes and give me a goofy smile. And oh did my heart ache! I wanted that so badly for myself, for my family. I wanted to add another child to my home, a sibling for the girls, another grandchild. And selfishly I wanted to experience all those typical milestones that I didn't get to experience in the usual way with Natalie. But even thinking about another pregnancy is so scary. There are so many unknowns. I can't imagine putting my family though that again. No child should have to lose one sibling; losing two is unimaginable. 

I've spent a lot of time in prayer lately, trying to learn and discern God's will for my family. Is God calling me to have more children? Is he calling me to go back to school, back to work? Sometimes I wish he would just TELL us what he wants for us! I want to do His will, but I just don't know what his will actually is! 

I don't know if there will ever be another baby growing in my womb. I've mostly accepted, and even found the positives in, not having more children. But it still makes my heart ache for another little newborn in a sling, a toddler learning to walk, hearing first words and seeing first smiles. I don't know that I'll ever stop aching for that. In the meantime, I will continue to pray that God'w ill is revealed to me, and that I willingly accept it. 

Heaven

If there is one really positive thing to come from Peter's life and death, it's that heaven is a permanent conversational topic in our home. Daily Julie and I discuss the wonders of heaven, the joy that we will experience, curiosity over what Peter is doing and what we will someday do. Just today we talked about how we could go swimming and sled riding all in the same day. Julie wants to go on a "dinosaur back ride". God will have to pick her up, because dinosaurs are very tall. I long for heaven like never before. I truly believe this will help me be a better Christian. It certainly makes me want to do everything I can to get there, and to make sure my family is there with me. 

It makes all the things we suffer in this life seem less important. I don't worry so much about what we may miss out on as individuals and as a family. It removes concern that I may never see the Grand Canyon or the French alps or walk the path Jesus walked on Good Friday. I'll do it all with the ones I love, without worrying about plane fair and if I remembered to pack underwear. What could be better! 

A friend introduced me to the concept that, with heaven being outside of our understanding of time, our babies who we lost wait for us and we get to raise them in heaven. What a breathtaking idea. It brings tears to my eyes. In the days after Peter died I ached to nurse him. I prayed to Our Lady to cuddle him and nurse him at her breast. But maybe I'll get to do that afterall. I've been wrapped up in reading about Heaven, and have learned some interesting concepts that I'd never considered. I look forward to reading more. There are a lot of books on my reading list right now!

On that beautiful day when we meet Jesus and see our family again, Jesus tells us that all our questions will be answered (John 16:23). So many questions, big and small. An eternity of happiness and learning and companionship and praising Him who brought us there awaits us. And an eternity with my beautiful babies I never met, and God willing, the beautiful girls I am raising. 

I came upon this song by MercyMe recently. It's called Homesick. 

Homesick by MercyMe on YouTube

You're in a better place, I've heard a thousand times
And at least a thousand times I've rejoiced for you
But the reason why I'm broken, the reason why I cry
Is how long must I wait to be with you

I close my eyes and I see your face
If home's where my heart is then I'm out of place
Lord, won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
I've never been more homesick than now

Help me Lord cause I don't understand your ways
The reason why I wonder if I'll ever know
But, even if you showed me, the hurt would be the same
Cause I'm still here so far away from home

I close my eyes and I see your face
If home's where my heart is then I'm out of place
Lord, won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
I've never been more homesick than now

In Christ, there are no goodbye
And in Christ, there is no end
So I'll hold onto Jesus with all that I have
To see you again
To see you again

And I close my eyes and I see your face
If home's where my heart is then I'm out of place
Lord, won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
Won't you give me strength to make it through somehow
Won't you give me strength to make it through somehow

I've never been more homesick than now

Happy birthday

My baby boy was born one month ago today. One month ago, right now, I was cradling his sweet body, listening to his cute little noises, watching his sister adore him, seeing those around him fall in love with him. One month. On one hand it seems like an eternity but on the other it's like it was yesterday. 

The past month has been different than I expected. I feel like things are getting back to normal, but it's a new normal. I expected to be much more grief stricken than I am. But for the most part, I'm hanging in there, taking it a day at a time. I still dedicate parts of every day to Peter, be it talking to him, tending his garden, visiting the cemetery, looking at pictures. It's the only way to stay connected to my boy who I miss so desperately. 

After just a month I wonder how many people still think of him. How long will his memory stay alive? I'm overjoyed when I hear how his brief life has affected so many people. I hope to continue using his life and memory as an example of the preciousness of life. These children have worth, they have value. They are a true blessing. I just read a comment on an anencephaly support board by a women who lost her son 4 years ago. She talked about the blessing his life was to her family, and how even four years later he continues to bless them. I think that's a difficult concept to convey and, for those who haven't been there, to understand. But it's so true. 

Two weeks...

It's been two weeks and two days since Peter was born. It feels like a lifetime ago. There has been very little about my emotions and feelings these last two weeks that has gone as expected. I never know whats going to set me off, what will start the tears. A medical card came in the mail for Peter today. I wouldn't have expected that to lead to tears, but seeing it just reminds me that he should be here with us. Knowing he'll never need that card, but seeing his name printed on it nonetheless, just something about that led to deep emotion. But I literally went from happy to tears in seconds. It was unexpected. 

We placed Peter's headstone today and laid grass seed (and I did THAT without tears. Go figure!). It is small and simple, but perfect. I actually love it even though for a long time I would have thought it too small and simple. Even the day before we ordered it I was leaning toward one larger and more expensive. I am very grateful that I found this one while googling. It was meant for him. 

All I want to do are things that honor and remember Peter. Scrapbooking, organizing pictures, visiting the grave, making a garden, shopping for stuff for the cemetery (two beautiful solar lights!), reading about heaven, and even making breastmilk soap: these are just some of the things I've been doing. It makes me feel closer to him. Ordinary tasks are the hardest. Cleaning the kitchen, picking up toys. They have nothing to do with Peter! It seems like a waste of time!

When I talk to other moms or read grief stories I wonder why I'm doing so well. I even start to feel guilty, like they miss their babies more than I miss mine (which I know isn't really true). I managed to go two days last week without even crying, and I think I had two days this week as well. I've broken down over the past week but it's just moments, it's not the whole day like it was during the several days after the funeral when I felt so empty and void. I know God's grace has a lot to do with it. I know that having six months to prepare, knowing goodbye was coming, helped a lot. But still I am a little surprised that I'm not a complete and utter mess most days. When I run out of things to do - when I complete the photo book, when the memorial garden is finished, when all the prints are ordered and framed, when my milk is gone.....I fear that will be when the sadness will really set in, when it will all feel truly final. 

I've been asked to share my story on a Catholic blogging site. That is very exciting. I'm so grateful to have the opportunity to share Peter's life with as many people as possible. And hopefully, somewhere along the way, someone will choose life for their anencephalic baby because of Peter.