Holiday Playlist

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year." At least that’s what I’ve heard. Even before my son’s death I couldn’t get on board with that. This time of year should be peaceful as we reflect on the wonder and majesty of a virgin birth and the salvation that an innocent baby would one day bring to mankind. I’ve always despised the hustle and bustle of the season, the buying of more and more stuff for people who don’t really need for anything, and of course the traditions like straight up lying to kids about creepy elves and a fat man in a red suit. All that aside, the very real heart-being-crushed-inside-my-chest, take-my-breath-away pain of knowing what was and what should have been makes it difficult to have a “holly, jolly Christmas.”

Why I’m no longer upset that I didn’t get a miracle...

This blog is not directly about what it’s like to be a bereaved parent. However, it does provide insight into the type and extent of terms, concepts, and beliefs that have been called into question for me after the death of my son. Whether or not God performs miracles today likely seems a trivial concern to one that has not endured tragedy, but for me it shapes my whole world view.

Let's clear a few things up...

My son’s death put me into a tailspin in many ways.  In those early weeks and months I was mostly shocked and dumbfounded and I clung to my faith. But as time passed and the reality started to sink in, my faith was shaken and I became very angry at God, in many ways deeming Him responsible (no worries...while I can’t speak for you, the God I serve is big enough He can handle my being angry at Him).  After really digging in scripture and reading articles, blogs, sermons, books, and so much more I finally have reached a place of peace with God.

Year One

With the one year anniversary of my son’s death having come and gone I feel a little bit defensive.  I’m afraid that there is an expectation that I should be “getting over it” by now.  I’m sure there will be that expectation at some point, but I haven’t gotten over it and I will never get over it. I’m doing my very best to move forward, but never will I move on.  If this makes you uncomfortable, I do not apologize.  My child’s death makes me uncomfortable (what a polite and politically correct way to say it) every moment of every day.

What knowing means...

I had a mother’s heart long before my son was conceived. I was already looking out for the best interest of my child-to-be prior to his conception when I was wishing, hoping, and praying for him. When I found out this dream was becoming a reality I knew that for the rest of my life my heart would belong to that little person growing inside of me. For the entire 39 weeks and 4 days that I was pregnant with my son I tried to do all the right things, to the extreme. After he was born, for the 18 months and 19 days that I was blessed to have him I tried to do all the right things, to the extreme. I was not a perfect mother, but I was a good and purposeful mother. Being the mother to such a special little boy is the thing I’m most proud of in this life and is my favorite part of who I am. I had big plans for us and I can assure you the plans I had did not stop forever at 18 months.

What the promise of eternity with my son does NOT do...

I spend a lot of time thinking about Heaven these days.  And why shouldn’t I?  It’s only natural that I would want to dwell on and know as much as possible about the place my son now resides.  Since he died lots of people have tried to offer encouraging words by reminding me that he’s in a better place and that I get to see him again one day.  That’s okay because it’s true, but I feel like I’m somehow being dishonest when I just nod and smile.  The promise of eternity with my son is what keeps me slightly closer to sane than off-my-rocker crazy but the not-so-pretty truth is that there are a lot of things the promise of eternity with him do not do...  

A Time to Remember (Battle of Wills)

This is Nana’s favorite memory.  When she and I were engaged in our own battles of wills as I was growing up she always told me she hoped one day my children would be just like me…