A little Blessing coming our way

 

 

I feel like we are right on the cusp of something great. We have suffered the loss of so much over the past two years, and I feel like we are finally being given a tangible blessing. There has been many spiritual blessings, but it seems as though the physical blessings of our life keep slipping through our hands. 

Our third daughter is due to be born in 4 days. It has been a very long, expensive, emotional, and just flat out hard road getting to this point. There was a time that we were told we would not be able to have any more children. I remember the exact moment when our doctor called to tell us that. I remember driving around one day, when I thought of a perfect baby girl name, and then fell apart thinking I may never get to use that name. I also remember the exact moment when another doctor told us it would still be possible to have more children. 

I can't believe that we have gotten all the way to this point. I love to think about Ruby preparing her baby sister to enter into our family. Preparing room mentally and physically for another child, especially another daughter has been very emotionally charged. I kept pushing off "nesting". Up until about a month ago, I had no even bought this baby one thing! I think the walls that I have built to protect my heart were so strong, that it was hard to even want to let this new baby in. The last time I did all of this baby stuff, the outcome was so traumatic and heartbreaking, that it has been hard to convince my heart that it will be different this time. 

I had been praying so hard to feel prepared. To feel the right amount of excitement, and worry. Praying to let my walls down, and really accept we are having another baby, and that she will be healthy. It just seemed too good to be true, after everything. Shortly after my pleading, we had a very special spiritual experience, an undeniable sign from our Ruby, that changed everything. I realized that Ruby doesn't care if her room is changed. She doesn't care if I finally wipe the Tylenol smudges off her dresser, or pack away some of her things. She is excited for our family to welcome another baby, and I know that she wanted me to bask in the joy that a newborn brings. 

I was able to finally change her room. I kept walking in the nursery, and then walking right back out. Late one night I asked my husband to go in with me. We started in her top drawer, where her size 1 diapers were perfectly arranged, and never used. I had opened the drawer a lot of over the past 2 years. Those diapers made my heart hurt. It made me angry that I put them in there with the intention of using them on my baby girl, and there they sat. But you know what? Men are wired a little different! He didn't' have an emotional connection to unused diapers! Thank goodness! So he moved the size 1's and replaced with with the Newborn size. I thought, "Ok, we are really doing this...I can do this!" We moved on to the next drawer, where her clothes were. The first outfit I picked up I buried my face in, and cried and cried. I could imagine all the times she had worn it. It made everything seem so recent. So real. So tangible. I am glad I had my strong and sweet husband there with me. He knew the outfit. He knew the pain. We carefully folded our favorite outfits and blankets of hers, and set them aside. It got easier and easier as we kept going throughout the night. I think that Ruby was there with us. The feeling in the room was so peaceful and happy and almost sacred. The next day Kate helped me remove Ruby's bedding, and wipe down the crib, and put the new bedding on. It was very therapeutic for our whole family to prepare this new room, for the new little sister and daughter that was making her way to us. Ruby's nursery is where I have gone to grief for her. It is where she has felt close. I was scared to change that space, losing that physical connection to her. But it still feels like her room, only she is sharing it with the new baby. I like walking in there and thinking about those sisters together. 

We are ready for this baby girl to arrive. Ruby will never be replaced, but we are very excited to have a baby in the house again. Often people have tried to tell me that we will be healed, and this baby will make up for our loss. I know it is not true, but I do believe that the blessing of this sweet baby to our family, will fill our hearts with love and joy and happiness!  We can't wait for Tuesday!

It's quiet in the nursery
Too quiet for my heart
Dust on the changing table
Toys unplayed with in the corner

I rock myself in your chair
Trying to remember your weight in my arms
If I close my eyes I can almost smell you
The memories of this room are sweet

Your little sister is nearly here
She grows beneath my broken heart
Making room for her has not been easy
You will no longer be my littlest baby

The missing is deep and the pain is real
Longing for you is part of my normal day
Wishing things were different

Hoping its a bad dream

This nursery is quiet tonight
Soon it will be again filled with cries and giggles
As she grows beneath my broken heart, she is slowly healing me

Your sister

I rock in your chair
Feeling the weight not in my arms, but in my womb
Her fluttery movements remind me life keeps going
Life keeps growing

Each day, experience, memory and ache
One day closer to you in my arms once again
A quiet nursery tonight
But only for a moment

"In His Hands"

About a month after Ruby passed away, while Kate was at her first day of preschool, two bereaved mothers were going to come over to talk with me. I saw them walk up the sidewalk, talking and smiling. I thought it seemed to odd that they could be smiling. They knocked and I stood on the opposite side of the door, trying to compose myself when I heard them "chit chatting".  I so clearly remember thinking, "I am going to smile and chit chat again one day?" It was such a foreign idea to my broken heart and spirit, but it gave me hope.

Jenny Hess was one of those mothers. She very suddenly and traumatically lost her dear 4 year old son Russell, while on a family vacation. It has been 5 years since he returned to Heaven, and Jenny just finished an amazing book called, "In His Hands."

Talking to parents who have also lost children, has been very comforting to me. It is painful to hear their stories, but there is a similarity in the pain, a thread that so violently runs through each of our hearts, that bonds us to each other.  I have been pretty "comfortable" in my grieving for the past while. I haven't had very many major breakdowns, and I haven't been reaching out for comfort like I needed to those first few months and year. As I started Jenny's book, I realized how lonely I had been. As I read her words, her experiences, her feelings, her fears, her hopes, her dreams, her doubts, her struggles and triumphs, I felt like I was reading my own heart.

Grieve is such a lonely road most of the time. There is no going around it, under it, or over it. The only way is through it. Everyone grieves differently, and that can make it feel like you have to travel the road alone. While reading "In His Hands" I realized that those of of that are grieving are all on the same trail, we are trudging through the thick mud, side by side, but we all have a different way of trudging.

I have read so many books on loss and grief that I have lost count of them. They all left me feeling like I was failing in my struggle, and I needed to hurry on with this process and be healed. Jenny's book, is real and honest. Her wound is fresh, and she knows it will never fully "heal".  It is validating to hear someone share her feelings so openly. I felt as though I was given permission to take my time, fully feel the pain, and not feel rushed or guilty for it.

Jenny has given me hope. I look at her, and I see a happy person. I see a person that has learned from her experience, and continues to learn and change and grown each day she faces with out her child.

I highly recommend her book to everyone. No matter what struggle you are facing, there is always joy at the end. "In His Hands", though sad, has inspired me, and left me feeling hope, peace and comfort.

To learn more about Jenny, and her journey, watch this beautiful video.