Sunday, June 28, 2009
Isaac's stone went in the day after Father's Day. As I was driving to go visit him and to see his marker, my mind drifted back to the day we placed him in the ground. Our service was small, only my closest friends and family were there. I remember feeling so proud of my baby and so happy to have in my arms again. He looked like a baby doll. I don't know if it was because I was doped up on Xanax, or if it was because I wasn't familiar with funerals, but I was expecting to hold Isaac through out the service. I wasn't prepared at all for when I was instructed to lay Isaac in his casket. I remember the children starting to sob and I remember the tears blinding my eyes. I remember thinking "Oh God... Father... Do I really have to say goodbye?". "Do I really have to put my child down?". I remember kissing him over and over again, like mad, laying him down, tucking him in, kissing him again, and stumbling to my chair. I really didn't want to make a scene, but I remember thinking to myself... this is why mothers fall to their knees and wail when their children die. The pain could kill you, I swear it would, I thought in that moment. Andrew was the only listed palbearer. Ian was the only listed honorary palbearer. Andrew carried the baby out. We drove Isaac, in his casket, to the grave site, on my lap. My poor baby, dead, in a box, on my lap. I was proud to do it. But I was mad as hell. I remember thinking who the hell made this decision for me. Did I really agree to this? To carry my child, only to later bury him?
It's almost been three months now. I've struggled with blogging, because there are some people that read my blog that I have decided (peacefully and confidently) that I did not want them in my life. It bothers me to have made that decision, still knowing that they can be a part of my life this way. I've thought back and forth about setting my blog to private, but I decided it was more important to keep the avenues of communication open. Not for them, but for me, and for you. I need to be able to share my story in an open forum. I cherish meeting new people, and reaching out and touching those back, that have touched my life so deeply. If another has to read my blog to keep tabs on me, then so-be-it, I wouldn't have shared with them otherwise.
Summer rolls on here. The children are happy and my days are mad busy with work and play and housework and cleaning. I have a few people I keep in touch with personally - - those would be my nearest and dearest. Othen than that, I stay home, in my "hole" as I refer to it. I keep to myself, avoiding most communication with the outside world. I like being in my own space. I like being alone. I'm different. I can't fix or change it, and don't necessarily think I should have to. We're planning ahead for our next baby. Making plans for the days, weeks, and months ahead. But for now, for now I try to make it through my days, being present in motherhood and as a wife and friend the best I know how, inspite of this huge sorrow I feel and burden I carry. Heart ache is really over rated. I'm beginning to think growth is, too. Some days I wish I could go back to how it was before. No such luck, friends. No such luck.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Friends, it has now been two months since Isaac joined our family. Two months of a different kind of hell and joy, that I have never experienced before.
God lives. Jesus is the Christ. I believe with my whole heart that my sweet Isaac lived in the pre-existence, just as you and I did before he was born. I believe we, together, chose the right, and those of us that chose Heavenly Father's plan, also chose to usher Satan and his followers from the heavens. I believe Isaac waited to be apart of our family. I believe Isaac waited, knowing that his Father would create a body for him that would ensure his quick return back to him. I knew, and felt in every bone of my body, that this child I was asked to carry was perfect. I knew that his soul was so mighty that he would not have to live on this earth through the trials and heartache and schooling that you and I need. This child would kiss us with his holy presence and return back to God and Christ's arms and ask what he was needed to do next. When sweet Isaac was born, and for the hours to follow, the precence of God and His love, not only for Isaac, but for me, was felt time and time again. I had completed the task I had set out to do. I had delivered my child safely back into his Heavenly Father's arms. Friends, Isaac still lives, just as Jesus and God does. I feel this in my most quiet moments, and in my most sorrowful moments, my most joyous moments. I miss him, my heart aches for him, my mind searches for the right ways in which to continue to live again.
This is the struggle. To know the right balance of joy and sorrow. To know the right balance of including Isaac's memory in our home. To know that I truly have four children, but my youngest was too mighly to be raised by his earthly mother. The struggle is to praise God for this perfect child, but to beg Him to carry me as I crawl through loneliness and heart ache. The struggle is to believe with all my heart, that this child will join our family again, some day, and that I can live to be worthy of that greatest blessing.
God is there, my sweet friends. Some of His greatest requirements of us, will truly be our largest sacrifices. Carry on. Run, walk, crawl through each day, knowing He is waiting to bare you up. Christ lives. He loves you, as He love me, also.
Carry on, endure on, and know that I carry and endure on right with you. Isaac's story is the light in our life, our hope is that we can share some of that bright light with you, and that together, our lives will be better for it. My prayer is, that God's love, through Isaac's story, will reach hundreds, and that each and every one of us will continue on, to become better, more joyous, and loving people for it. Hold your children and loved ones close tonight, as I do the same.