Shining through the Sorrow

It's been almost eight years since we had our Gabriel.  Since we lost our Gabriel.  Over the past several years, one child in this family has continued to talk about him the most.  Joel, now nine years old and the only sibling to have the chance to actually meet his brother, doesn't often speak his name these days.  He is, however, very protective of his "Gabey Bear" that he sleeps with every night, and goes to find when he's sad or hurt.  I'm still not sure Ruby, who just turned four, completely understands that she has a brother who is no longer with us.  The only photos she's ever seen of him are obviously baby pictures from the day he was born, but she does usually ask if every random picture she sees of a baby, is our Gabriel.  But our Zoe, almost six, talks about him all the time.  She points out that there is a seat in the back row of our family car, between she and Joel.  "That's where Gabe sits."  And when she asked about th...

What does grief feel like when you are this many years out from the day you said both "hello" and "goodbye" to your precious one?  When the world has forgotten, but your heart still remembers?  The number one thing people tell me about this blog is that it allows them to see what grief looks like through various stages.  So, when Facebook reminded me that it was on THIS day, eight years ago, that we announced we were pregnant with our second child, I made myself sit down and write about my precious Gabriel . Here’s a riddle.  What do playdates and doctor visits have in common?  They both want your childbearing history.  I can’t tell a doctor I only have four kids, because they need to know that I birthed five.  If you’re not a momma, this may not make sense to you - But let me assure you, after talking with a variety of doctors this past year about my dislocated tailbone, they ALL asked for my complete prenatal history.  So for anyone who thi...

Last night was the always beautiful, somewhat magical, Labor of Love Christmas service.  It's a night I look forward to every year.  Last year there were two men who shared about their losses, and it moved me so much I blogged about it.  You can read that entry here .  I knew I needed to share this year, but only if when I sat down to write, something poured out of me.  And, of course, that's exactly what happened.  Below is what I shared to the many Infant Loss mommas, daddys, grandparents, nurses, and friends in attendance... This year's ornament -  a Key, to unlock the Love in our Hearts. I just wanted to take a moment to express my gratitude to Labor of Love, and all the people who are now more like family than friends. Being able to gather with a group of people who understand exactly how you feel, who have endured the same tremendous loss, is such a beautiful gift. I lost my son, Gabriel, seven years ago. In many ways it feels lik...

Yesterday's forecast called for thunderstorms and hail.  I was already a hot mess, and the thought that we'd have to cancel for the first time ever due to weather was heartbreaking.  It rained while I picked up the balloons.  It poured while we gathered everything to bring to the cemetery.  It sprinkled when we arrived and started setting everything up.  Kyle pointed out the gorgeous floral arrangement left by a precious friend, and the tears started.  My mother-in-law arrived with cupcakes that perfectly matched the bouquet (completely not planned) and I was officially bawling.  But then the skies cleared as people joined us around his gravesite.  We were all able to give hugs, catch up, and talk about my special little boy - all while not having to huddle under the tiny canopy we brought as back up.  We quickly sang Happy Birthday so that the kids could enjoy the Main Event - the cupcakes.  As they ate I said the following words, befo...

I think you only really "get this" if you've lost a significant loved one yourself, but I'll try to explain.  And I can really only speak for myself, but I have a feeling I'm speaking for many of us...  You don't always miss your baby (or spouse, or parent, or best friend) on the days you are "supposed" to miss them.  In fact, sometimes the days leading up to a certain triggering date is worse than the significant day itself.  And sometimes your body feels the sadness before your head can catch up. This has happened to me a lot over the years since we lost our Gabriel .  But there's a specific time it happens that still both surprises and confuses me, so I've never talked about it before.  But, it kind of "proves" that us grieving parents don't "choose" our sadness.  It's not something we talk about to get attention from loved ones, or to gain sympathy from strangers.  Sometimes, it's like our soul recognizes...

Our fifth baby started forming in my womb seven months after my husband underwent a vasectomy.  Maybe the procedure didn't work.  Maybe we didn't wait long enough.  Eighteen months later and we're still not sure. I tried so hard to blissfully enjoy the pregnancy, but ended up overdue and begging for an induction.  I endured a painful labor and an even more painful recovery.  There were bleeding complications afterwards, an injured tailbone, and severe postpartum depression.  It's only now, that baby Grace is three months old, that I can share these details. On social media I posted photos of my brand new baby with lovely captions such as, "The baby I didn't know I needed."  But the truth is, I was only able to share such precious words when she was finally asleep in my arms after crying for hours.  Only after I asked God for forgiveness for yelling at my other kids, as I was suddenly a stressed out, unkind version of myself. My REALITY ver...

In the seven years since Gabriel's fatal diagnosis, my husband and I have been blessed with three healthy daughters.  Our family is now big and crazy and wonderful.  Our evenings are full of bickering and laughter, chaos and cuddles.  I can't count the times Kyle and I look at each other, both tearful, so full of joy we feel we may explode.  And yet... And yet there is still that empty hole.  I admit it - I still grieve the tremendous loss of my son's death .  April 29th is the date that will mark seven years since we received Gabriel's fatal diagnosis.  Seven years since our once illuminated world turned dark.  We were young parents with one toddler, thrilled to be giving him a sibling.  All that joy, all that hope.  To then find out our baby boy wasn't going to make it long after his birth.  Suddenly all we could feel was despair and intense sadness.  After enduring months of carrying around the son who would soon di...