Perspective

Okay, as I take a few steps back from my emotional breakdown on Wednesday, I have learned an important lesson.  Though writing helps me to heal and makes me feels as though I am doing something to calm myself, I should maybe wait just a few minutes before I explode publicly.  Everything I wrote was exactly what I was feeling at that point, but not how I feel all the time.  I have a tendency to write when things seem full of hope and promise, so I can share that hope with others and let them find encouragement with Reagan's life.  OR, I write when I am so consumed by my own grief that I feel like I can't go on, that I am being swallowed up.  That was where I was on Wednesday, and a few more days of peace following has helped me to move toward becoming whole again.

Christmas - yes, still not a fan.  But it's the worldly side of Christmas we are hating.  When the one gift we want, Reagan, no one can give back to us.  When I walk through the stores and see all the little pink clothes, "Baby's first Christmas" frames and ornaments, and people walking with strollers.  I long to be that person, to be out getting all these things for my daughter.  That is not possible, because she is gone.  BUT, I do still want to celebrate the true meaning of Christmas.  Because Christ came to Earth and was born, He followed God's ultimate plan and died.  Died for us, so that Reagan could be in Heaven with Him.  And without his birth, we would really have no hope.  So I am back to focusing on that, on Reagan in heaven.  Trying to figure out what she is doing, if she is watching us or praying for us, if she is having so much fun with Samuel running around.  I wonder if they celebrate Christmas up there?  Anything special to celebrate the birth of our Savior?

So thank you, to everyone who has prayed for us since Wednesday.  Your prayers have been felt as God has once again wrapped himself around me to bring me a sense of peace which can only be from up above.  Circumstances have not changed in these past few days, perspective has.  And I pray that I can stay on this side for longer and longer time periods before becoming overcome again and losing sight of the fact that Reagan is happy and healthy and loved.  And as a parent, when I think of only her, what more can I ask for?

Depressed and Forgotten

I can't do it anymore.  I can't be that strong person who is trusting that God is good and focusing on heaven. Last week, I was that person.  I was able to focus on that and dream about our future, overlooking the present pain.  Today, the present pain is all consuming.  I am drowning in my grief.  I can't take it anymore.  This is too much for any person to handle.  I can't wrap my head around it, can't understand the why.  WHY??  I want to scream that at the top of my lungs, but it won't help.  Nothing will.  I feel so empty.  And I hate Christmas, HATE Christmas.  I don't feel merry.  I don't feel thankful.  I don't feel blessed.  And I'm tired of hearing about the people who are.  I am crumbling as my heart continues to shatter.  And instead of it getting better, when the grief hits it is so much worse.  My baby girl is gone.  Gone forever.  I will not get to raise her, or see her as a baby, or see her have babies.  I am missing so much.  And I just want her back.  I would do anything to have her back.

My birthday next week is just another painful reminder.  I should have celebrated with a child several birthdays ago.  But God had different plans for me, and I came to terms with that.  But this was the year.  This was the year I was going to celebrate my last birthday before I became a mom.  Before I started getting a collection of homemade cards and cheap gifts with handprints on them that I absolutely loved.  And now it is another year gone by with me being barren.  Empty.  Broken. I hate my birthday.  It was not supposed to be like this, it's not.

I don't get to grieve the way I could at the beginning.  I can't just take a moment for myself to be sad during the day.  I can't randomly tear up with patients while treating them.  I can't break down and sob at lunch. Because Reagan has been forgotten.  Not by us, as both Andrew and I agreed things are only getting harder.  But by everyone else.  No one asks about her anymore.  No one wants to hear about her little face or our time together.  I don't want to be distracted.  I don't want you to tell me that it is going to be okay.  Because it will never be okay, never again.  And maybe I can punch the next person who tells me that the reason it is okay is because I still have more time, I can always have another one.  Like that is somehow going to replace my daughter?  If anyone said that of the families who lost children in last week's shooting, we would be disgusted and appalled.  But Reagan was just as much my daughter, even though she wasn't born.  I watched her kick.  I watched her smile.  I watched her wave at me.  And in those early moments, I planned for our entire future.  And I fell in love.  I am learning time will never diminish the pain.  Another child will never diminish the pain.  I am going to have to live with this the rest of my life.

So Andrew and I are researching new places we can move where we won't be constantly reminded of what we don't have, where we won't see all the babies who Reagan would have gone to school with.  I don't want to see my neighborhood pool where I had planned on taking her next year.  I don't want to jog around the parks where I had planned on using my jogging stroller.  There are too many painful memories everywhere.  Too many opportunities for me to break down, which I have done with surprising consistency for the past several days.  Right now we're thinking Singapore.  It's actually a beautiful country.  And as far away from here as we can get.  Now, just to save up a little more money to buy the plane tickets, find some jobs, and we'll be all set

Heaven

Every once in a while I have these moments of peace.  Mostly I alternate between rage (how in the world could God do this to us?) and being numb.  I continue to struggle with the why.  And trying to figure out what lesson God is teaching me through this.  And why could He not have taught me that lesson in another way? A less painful one?  One when my daughter did not have to die?  One in which I was not surrounded by pregnant women constantly?  One that did not cause this suffocating grief?  But He did not chose to do things that way, and yet again I am left trying to surrender the illusion of control.  Because let's be honest, I've never really been in control.  And this proves it.  If I was in control, she would be happy and kicking around in my belly.  I would now be in my 3rd trimester - complaining of being fat, waddling around the office at work, fighting swollen legs and hemorrhoids and heart burn.

I'm getting off topic, happens so quickly now.  Just takes a second to get sucked back into my sorrows, when I started writing this today so I could share my peace.  Okay, let's try this again.  Every once in a while I have these moments of peace.  Today it came after reading more on heaven.  My new favorite pastime (one in which I can find joy while not feeling guilty for not thinking constant of Reagan) is sitting outside in the sunshine with my tea right next to Reagan's garden.  That sort of makes me sound like I've turned into an old woman...  But today, I was reading a book on heaven.  I've struggled to get through this book with all the complicated theology and references.  So today, I skipped ahead.  And read the fun part - about relationships and society and family and everything we will experience.  And it just makes me so happy to catch glimpses of what Reagan might be doing up there.

Today, I found it reassuring that I will know my daughter when I get to heaven.  I have always had this fear that heaven would feel somewhat lonely - I would be worshiping the Lord so I would not really miss anything while there and would be content and filled with joy.  But it just seemed a little empty to me.  And the more I read and study, scripture paints a very different picture.  Relationships will continue in heaven as they did on Earth, just minus sin.  No more bitterness or petty fights, no back talking or lying, no deceit or gossip.  Reagan will never have to deal with that.  And the God given gifts we have on Earth will continue in heaven.  Not just things like "faith" or "prayer" or "hospitality" (though I'm sure those will as well) but musical talents, dancing, acting, etc.  We will return to the way we were originally created before the fall, worshiping God through all actions.  Not just singing hymns or reading the Bible (though, again, I'm sure we will do that)  And so, very soon I will get to see Reagan dancing her heart away in the streets of heaven.  And she will never trip, lose her balance, or be off beat.  She will be perfect at it, just the way God created her.  And when I get to heaven, I will know her.  We will pick up our relationship where we left off.  And we'll dance together.  And then she will dance with her Daddy (who won't even step on her feet!)  And it will be the sweetest reunion.

Not only will we be reunited with Reagan, but we will get the opportunity to know her twin we lost before we even found out gender.  I always thought we had one of each, so until I know differently, it is a boy.  A little boy I like to think of as Samuel.  Who has sandy brown hair, chubby cheeks, and runs through the field of purple flowers holding his sister's hand and laughing. (cause, remember, in heaven they get along.  no fighting!)  We will learn what he enjoys doing, what his talents are, and how God is using him for His glory.  I have 2 children waiting for me.  And their waiting is filled with joy and wonder and awe with the Lord.  No pain on their behalf, just mine.  And mine is temporary.  Until we are reunited again...

One Month...

I was given from the women in  my small group a journal specifically for women who have suffered infant loss.  It is such a wonderful gift (so thank you so much for those of you who were a part of it, and to Leah for arranging the whole thing) and I have begun to pour my heart out in it.  The following words are taken from the page titled "One Month" from when Reagan would have had her first little birthday.

I cannot believe it has already been 1 month.  One month since I held my precious Reagan in my arms for the last tie.  Time has not really made it any easier.  Sometimes I am so completely overwhelmed with how much I miss her that I can hardly breathe.  I now know true pain and heartbreak.  I will always miss my sweet baby girl and know nothing will ever take her place.

The past month has been an emotional roller coaster.  At times I have collapsed on the ground, sobbing and missing my Reagan so bad.  My heart literally aches and there is a huge weight pushing down on me, suffocating me.  At times the grief is unbearable and I would how I could ever go on.  I had that yesterday.  I thought of how I should be putting the "1 month" sticker on her chest, posing her with stuffed animals, and posting in on Facebook.  But I never will.  We have pictures with her in my belly and from the hospital, and that is all.  I will never get a new picture, unless there are cameras in heaven?

At other times, I have felt incredible peace.  A peace I know can only come from above.  I realize Reagan is in a much better place.  She is not suffering, not even a little right now.  She will never know pain or heartache, will never be lonely or unloved.  She will never have tears running down her tiny, little face.  Right now, she is perfect.  She is healthy.  And she is loved.  She will never know anything different.  We prayed for God to keep her safe, and He has.  Just not in the way I expected.

Reagan has touched so many lives here on Earth.  In nearly 28 years, I have done very little.  And in 21 weeks, she has already had a greater impact on the world.  That is such a blessing for me, to know her life counted.  Of course it counted for us, as she has brought us so much joy.  But it also brings me peace to know her life has helped others.  Makes me a proud Mommy.

One month ago, I said goodbye to my precious little one.  I looked into her eyes for the first and last time.  I rocked her and sang her a lullaby for the first and last time.  I told her I loved her for the last time.  I still remember exactly how it felt to hand her over to the funeral home - like my insides were shattering, like my heart had stopped beating, like I was dying inside.  I felt that again when we picked up her urn and baby blanket, when I looked at her memory book at a family wedding, shortly before her memorial, and at Thanksgiving.  And I'm sure I will feel that way again.  Each time I thought I might die of grief, sadness, loneliness.  And each time God has carried me through.  I am now one month closer to seeing my Reagan again and spending eternity with her.