Tag: grief

But for what purpose?

MalachisMom5 Comments

There are moments in our life that we will never forget for as long as we live.

Mine is the moment that I watched the pinkness drain from his body.  

“He is with Jesus.”  Those are the only words I could utter from my mouth as his heart beat dropped to zero.  And in that moment my baby boy-my life-was gone.  My heart shattered into a million pieces.   

  

I felt a part of me die with you that day, Michael.

I remember how they removed your ET tube, and all the life sustaining equipment from your lifeless body, and how you laid so still in my arms.  So cold.  Yet, so beautiful.  Like a sleeping angel in my arms, covered by my tears which fell on your delicate skin.

And in that moment, all the dreams and plans I had for you; all my hopes, vanished.  

My heart poured out in mourning as I spent my last moments with you. As I tried to remember every detail of your perfectly woven body. 

I couldn’t comprehend it all.  How did we get to this point?

My hands were shaking as I handed you to the funeral personnel, and then as I begged for her to let me hold you one last time.  The last time my eyes would fall on you.  My last touch of your skin.  My last smell of your hair.  “Take it in Allison, don’t let this moment go,” I pleaded with myself.  “I love you Michael.”  “I love you, I love you, I love you.”  It was the only words I could form.  

  
My body was numb.  Grief overtook me like a raging storm.  And I had to deal with the burning question that fired through my mind and pierced my aching heart… But for what purpose? 

Why my child?  Why me?

These are the questions we must deal with when circumstances in life seem unfair and we feel broken and alone.  

When facing the devestating loss of a child, or raising a child with disability or any ailment, we often feel abandoned.  Our faith is tested, and our response to these burning questions reveal a lot about what we believe and who we believe in.  

I will never forget the morning of Michael’s funeral, and watching healthy children running and playing so carelessly before me.  And how bitterness filled my heart as I didn’t understand why Michael wasn’t given the opportunity to live.   

And at the same time my mind wondered to Malachi, whos weak body lie fighting to stay alive in a glass covered isolate.  “His life will be less than quality IF he lives.” The words of that doctor stung like salt to a wound.  In my mind I battled with this reality before me.  

  
In the midst of all my fears, grief, and questions I hide upstairs in my old bedroom that morning at my parents house.  I laid on the floor in a pool of tears until my husband came and found me. And together we gathered the strength to go and speak at Michaels funeral.  To give him the love and respect he so deeply deserved. 

In those days, weeks, and months following Michaels passing, I was in a state of utter despair and darkness. I was numb. Then I was angry. Every part of me ached.

I really wrestled with God over the plans that he choose for my life. In my earnest despair, I longed for answers.

In my search for comfort, I remember turning to the cross.

I began reading Hebrews 5:7-8 and seeing how Jesus, when facing the cross cried out to God the father-who had the power to make another way…but chose not to. And how Jesus submitted to Gods perfect plan.  A plan that included suffering and death.

It helped me to know that even Jesus Christ questioned the plans that God had for him. I knew that I was not alone in my feelings of great anguish.   It was in loneliness that Christ called out “My God my God-why have you forsaken me?” in Mathew 27:46.

But Christ followed through with the plan. A plan that would bring you and me salvation and eternal life.

It is because HE LIVES that it’s not over.  Michael and I will reunite again.  I will smell his hair and feel the warmth of his embrace.  It’s not over.  It’s not over yet. 

You see, Jesus took my place even though I am so undeserving.  He gave it all for me, and for you. 

And when death had a hold of Malachi’s life, Jesus breathed life into him.  He gave him life; abundant life. 

And while the future is still at large hazy and filled with uncertainty, I look to the Father to get me through each day. I don’t have to carry the weight alone.

When I feel overwhelmed with exhaustion because of therapy sessions, evaluations, and doctors appointments. When I feel like I can never take a break because if I am not working  on one of Malachi’s goals and milestones, then he might not have the best chance at life. When intense anxiety and fear of the future sneaks in to steal my joy, I shift my focus to the one who gave it all for me.

I count my blessings, big and small. I feel so blessed that Malachi is starting to eat more.  That while a month ago Malachi would vomit 1-10 times per day, and would gag at the slightest texture of food, that he is now eating several ounces of baby food, and starting to eat table food and drink from a straw.  That he is gaining weight, and has a desire to eat!  That while he has high tone in his legs, he can crawl and climb stairs, and I have no doubt in my mind that he will walk one day.  And while Malachi a few weeks ago never uttered a sound, my boy now says dada with such clarity, and babbles with intent. It may not seem like much to you, but to hear my sons sweet voice brings tears of joys to my eyes.  And even though Malach doesn’t say mama, he melts my heart when he lays his head on me when you say “give mommy love.”  He knows me.  He is doing things I only dreamed he would be doing. I have to remind myself that even though I can feel so full of doubt and anxiety, there is so much to be thankful for.   So much to live for. 

    
 
   
It is through His mighty hand that Malachi is alive. That while he may struggle in some areas of his life, he is progressing. He is thriving, and full of so much joy. I feel like I can see the very presence of God shining through him when he overwhelms me with his sweet and all consuming smile.

   
   
 
I often pray for continued healing over Malachi, but more than anything I want him to know the love of Christ.  To know of his grace, and his mercies. 

We still have a long road and many unanswered questions ahead of us. But through the uncertainties of life and pain, I remember Romans 8:28 when God states that he causes everything to work together for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose.

If you have ever been so consumed with those burning question, and are searching for purpose  and understanding in your pain, I want you to know that you are not alone.

In my search for clarity I will never have all the answers. I don’t know why Michael needed to leave this earth so soon. I don’t know why bad things happen to good people. Why innocent life is shed. And families are torn apart. And while I believe nothing comes into our lives that does not first pass through the sovereign hands of God-I know that we live in a world where sin has taken root and corrupted everything.

We live in a broken world. A world full of sin, sickness, genetic dispositions, and disease. And the world will continue to be broken until the return of our Lord and Savior.

But even in your pain, when life seems to be in ruins, your brokenness can be the pathway to usefulness. In fact, Jesus Christ showed what it meant to be broken and used by God in both painful and beautiful ways when we gave his life on the cross.

And so I kling to his promises. I choose to not focus on the temporal things of this Earth and to keep my eyes on everlasting things.

I also bind with those individuals who have walked similar journeys, who have been there and overcome.  Their support and love gives me so much strength during the moments I feel like a plane that is spiraling out of control.

And finally, I write. Writing for me is my outlet. It is the way I heal and mend those deep wounds. Thank you for letting me share my heart with you-my vulnerabilities and my pain.  We need each other to heal, grow, and love. 

   
 

My intention. 

MalachisMom1 Comment

I hope you don’t mind my vulnerability and rawness.  

“Lord, please don’t give me a child with special needs.” 

I’ve prayed this prayer. 

“Mothers of children with special needs are courageous and well equipped. I’m not strong enough for that” I thought. “God will give me healthy children. I am his child, and I am blessed and highly favored.”   

Have you ever wondered if Gods plan for your life could actually be greater than what you imagined for yourself?  Yes, you may have to suffer for a little while, but what if that suffering gave birth to new life and purpose?

My intention after suffering grief is to love harder. To not take things for granted. I am a not the person I was before grief, nor would I ever want to be. Losing Michael took something from me. It ripped me to my core, and made me question everything in life. At first it made me bitter, but then my heart was softened and my burden was lightened. I was made for this moment. I needed to be stripped of all pride, to be broken down from within-so that I might know how to truly rely on the Father.  

So where do I go from here? My hope is to help others realize that Gods grace is enough. That even in your darkest hour, his love is sufficient, and his mercies are new. Yes, it is unfair. It aches to the core. But, with great pain, there comes great triumph and healing.

My intention is to turn my pain into something well formed. I will never take Malachi’s life and his abilities for granted. Yes, his life involves struggles, but he is alive-he is my child and he is loved. Forever he will be loved. I am a mother of a child with special needs. You make it because you have to, not because you are “strong.”

I am a mother of a child that died in my arms. I have grieved until my heart felt shattered. I have cried enough tears to fill the oceans deep. But I am here, and I have purpose. My intention is to be more than a survivor, but to be an overcomer-through Christ. This is my intention. 

My calling is more than just writing. If you would like me to speak at a small group at your church, an event for grief support, a Wednesday night class or service-please contact me at allisonstone0422@yahoo.com.  I would love to share my story, about how God has given me new life, even in the mist of bitter suffering-and how he can do the same for you.  His grace is enough. Period.  

Dear grieving mother…

MalachisMom1 Comment

Dear grieving mother,

It’s ok to cry hysterically-to grieve with every piece of you. 

Your child is worth that.

The world moves on, but your world stands still. It is haunted by tiny caskets, empty cribs, and unspoken lullabies. So cry…
Release those stored up tears. 

I know you feel crushed with despair, like you can barely catch your breath, but surely I tell you, there is a day coming soon. A day when you will meet again. And hold them in your arms. 

But until then, it’s ok to lose yourself to tears. 

It’s ok to cry.
Sincerely, 

A mother that understands. 
 

Michael Scott Austin 12/28/14 – 01/21/15
 
I lie here on the floor in a bath of tears, my body violently shaking…

That’s the thing about losing a child-you are fine one moment, and then it hits you like a punch in the chest-they are gone. 

My husband lifts me off the floor, and tries to heal the pain with words. But I’m broken. A piece of me is here, and another far away. I am living and breathing, yet gasping for air.

Time does not heal these deep set wounds. Those wounds get covered up over time, but the scab is ripped off over and over again-leaving tissue that is open and fresh.

And I am left feeling the way I felt the day I said goodbye…the day I watched the pinkness of your skin drain from you. The day you took your last breathe.  

I try so hard to keep it locked away inside, but moments of despair creep in like an unexpected rain storm. 

I try to see the beauty in the life I hold so dear…but as I lie here next to my baby-I can feel your absence. I can feel the void. I long to have have you near. 

Each day is another day without you. A day my son has to live without his brother. A mother without her baby. A father without his son.

The pain is ever present. It is ever changing, yet always the same. 

Tomorrow I will get up and face the day ahead…but a part of me is gone. 

I am…but I am not. 

I miss you Michael Scott Austin. 25 days…25 days with you was not enough, yet it was everything. 

   

‭“He heals the broken in heart, And binds up their wounds.”

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭147:3‬ ‭

Broken Seashells–A micropreemies first time to the beach.

MalachisMom6 Comments

“There is a time for everything, a season for every activity under heaven. A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance.” Ecclesiastes 3:1,4

I can hear daddy singing to you from down the hall, I hear your voice softly cooing, and my heart melts. I wake up and look to see you smiling in your bassinet beside me. Your smile lights up my entire world –it can make my mood or feelings instantly change for the better. There are so many days when I wake up feeling inadequate. I ask myself “am I doing enough?” …then I see your gummy smile, and it is like you are saying “Mommy—you are more than enough.” I love you Malachi. Being your mother is the greatest blessing I have ever been given. Many people see you, and at first glance you seem like any other child. You are adorable—with those big blue eye that make people delight over you. You smile with those dimples, and your entire face lights up. You are such a happy boy. They don’t see the struggles you have endured. They don’t see your strength and determination. But I see it Malachi. It is because of you that I see life in a whole new way—and I thank you for that. Daddy just said the other day…”sometimes I cry thinking about all that Malachi has had to go through.” And I agree—you are the strongest little boy I know. The physical therapist this week couldn’t get over how determined you are. Playing is hard for you. Laying on your stomach often makes you vomit, and sitting up sometimes makes you pant in your breathing, and feel short of breath. But it doesn’t stop you. The odds have always been against you. But somehow you always find a way to overcome. When the odds are one in a million—you always strive to be that one. You are my hero Malachi.

The gentle ocean breeze, the salty air…the sound of the waves crashing to the shore. There is nothing quite like this view. It might just be my favorite.

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Who am I kidding? THIS is my favorite view!

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If you had told me I was going to be on a beach with Malachi, smiling & enjoying life a few months ago, I wouldn’t have believed you. For a long time I often wondered if life was ever going to be joyful again. I didn’t know if I had the strength to emerge from my pain.   This week I laughed…I laughed to the point that I felt like my heart was lifted to the sky.   I smiled. I cried. I even had moments of doubt and fear. But through it all, I am thankful for this life I have been given with Malachi.

Malachi has to be very cautious when going out into public due to his early birth. His lungs are not as developed, and they sustained damage from being on the ventilator for the first 6 weeks of his life.  Until we can at least get through this first winter, we do not go grocery shopping, to church, or out in public for that matter, because we are protecting Malachi from germs. It takes time for the lungs to regenerate, and the doctors want us to be extremely cautious for the first two years of Malachi’s life. Even a “minor” cold could lead to a hospital stay, and flu or RSV could prove deadly. This is why I had such a hard time deciding if I was going to go to the beach with Malachi or not. But, I just couldn’t stand the idea of Malachi missing out on such an amazing opportunity—to hear the ocean, to feel the sand between his toes…

So what did we do?   We brought the disinfecting wipes and headed to the beach!   We were VERY cautious mind you. Malachi spent a lot of his time at the resort, but he also got the opportunity to get in the ocean for the very first time. It was amazing to see his face when the waves slipped over his little toes. He enjoyed sitting in the water, and he even took a long nap under the umbrella. This was the FIRST week we have had since being discharged from the hospital that we did not have a single appointment! Our physical therapist was on vacation, and somehow we managed to schedule all other appointments either before or after this particular week. We were able to focus on our family—and the love we have.   We had time to play, time to think & clear our minds. We were even able to go out to eat at a restaurant as a family for the first time. We called ahead and reserved a private room at the Sea Captains that was away from all other guests—and as a family we were able to enjoy each other’s presence. Here are a few pictures from our beach trip…I hope you enjoy!

Sleepy baby boy.
Sleepy baby boy.
Malachi enjoyed napping with mommy. He is such a snuggle bunny.
Malachi enjoyed napping with mommy. He is such a snuggle bunny.
Tummy time pool side. YES, we do therapy even on vacation. :)
Tummy time pool side. YES, we do therapy even on vacation. 🙂
The pool wasn't my favorite. But I am still precious.
The pool wasn’t my favorite. But I am still precious.
Just me and my mommy.
Just me and my mommy.
First night out for dinner at the Sea Captains.
First night out for dinner at the Sea Captains.
These blue eyes...
These blue eyes…
Toes in the sand.
Toes in the sand.
The waves are my favorite.
The waves are my favorite.

I wish I could give you an update on Malachi’s weight, but he hasn’t been weighed since his check up on June 30th. If I had to guess, I would say he is almost 14lbs, but that is just an estimate. The doctors do not seem concerned with his weight gain. Miracles that have been evident in Malachi’s life over the past few weeks include that the opening in his heart (Patent Ductus Arteriosis) has closed, and will NOT need surgical intervention. Praise God! Also, he had a good eye exam that proved that he can track with his eyes, and he no longer has ROP (Retinopathy of Prematurity). The doctor did say that he had cortical brain damage from his brain bleed that could very well effect his vision & ability to focus; but he can definitely see to some degree. In physical therapy we are still working on his ability to roll, grasping toys, finding his feet, and stretching his lower leg muscles—which are a little tight (hypertonia). Just this past week (at the beach actually) Malachi started taking toys and putting them in his mouth. I have noticed that he can focus longer and track toys better than ever before. Furthermore, he smiles much more frequently. In fact, if his tummy is not hurting, or he is not hungry or sleeping—he is most likely smiling. Malachi also started sleeping through the night (for the most part), which is such a blessing. When he is awake, mommy has him busy practicing rolling, and learning to grab toys. We have to take things slow, so that he can tolerate the activity without vomiting & panting in his breathing; but, we find creative ways to play.  I have learned that I can’t worry about the future.  All I have is the now; and right now I have to be strong for Malachi.  He needs me.  We need each other.

On our last day at the beach, we stopped by the ocean one last time to talk to Michael. We wrote his name in his sand, prayed, and just took some time to remember him.

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We always see Michael in the sun. He was shinning bright that morning.
We always see Michael in the sun. He was shinning bright that morning.

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… as I walked towards the ocean that morning, all I could see were broken seashells surrounding me. Where are all the beautiful seashells, the ones that aren’t shattered into pieces? …I thought. But, then I realized the beauty that existed in the broken seashells around me.   I saw my own brokenness, and pain. For me, those broken shells represented unfulfilled dreams, emptiness, uncertainties…the loss of a child. Aren’t we all in a sense broken seashells that are battered by the waves of life, and the sand of time? We are searching for something to cling to. Searching for hope & truth in the midst of great chaos and disappointment.  Psalms 34:18 states “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those who spirits are crushed.”   Is your spirit crushed today? I know my spirit has been crushed, and if it wasn’t for the Lords peace and his holy spirit guiding me—I don’t know if I would have made it. Do I still fail daily? Certainly! But isn’t that the wonderful thing about grace? God’s grace is sufficient. In fact, the love of God is so vast & his mercies are new every morning—it is hard for our finite minds to even comprehend it. God sees the beauty within your brokenness, and he wants to provide you a net of safety. He longs to give you peace—to sustain you—to bind & heal your deep set wounds.

Psalms 55:22 Cast your burdens on the LORD, he will sustain you; he will never permit the righteous to be moved.

Psalms 147:3 He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

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The bottom line is—God’s grace is enough. No matter how I feel, or what the day holds. It is when we can truly let this sink into our hearts and minds that we are able to overcome great sadness & heal.

 “I’m planning to spend the rest of my life just happy that God loves me. That he has forgiven me. And that he has made me his own.”

-Judah Smith (Life Is Book)

I have two options—I can live my life as the broken shell that struggles to even get out of bed in the morning; or I can focus on the beauty that Christ sees in my brokenness—and strive to live each day just happy to be a part of HIS team. It is about changing my perspective & focusing on the prize—eternal life with my Lord & Savior. THAT is what life is all about.

When I left the ocean that day I wrote Michael’s name in the sand. I watched as the water washed his name away. Gone from sight, but never gone from my heart.  This is for you Michael…

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Dear Michael,

Please forgive me for going on with life without you. There is not a day that I do not think of you. I feel so conflicted. How do I let go of you—or at least the grief that I bear, and still hold onto you? I don’t know if I am ready to let that go. Every morning when I rise I think of you. I wonder what you would look like, how you would act. I wonder what your smile would look like…what your cry would sound like. I’m sorry I ever left your bedside. I hope you never felt alone. There is an unexplainable void that losing you left within me. There is a place in my heart that no one but you could ever fill. I miss you Michael. Some days are worse than others. Today is one of those hard days, where the pain stings like salt on an open wound. I just want to stroke your cheek, to feel your warmth on my chest. The vividness of your memory fades a little with every day; and I can’t stand it. I want to remember every part of you. The good and the bad. I will never forget the first time I saw you— you were there one moment, and in the next—you were on your way to the NICU. I had not named you yet, and when I saw your face I knew right away—yes, that is my Michael. I remember the day you opened your eyes for the first time. Those beady blue eyes met mine. I hope for an instant my presence calmed your every fear. I am sorry I spent more time at your brother’s bedside. Even if it wasn’t much more time, I regret not being with you every second. Your brother was so much sicker than you. I didn’t have time to let you go. I still struggle daily trying to let you go. Sometimes when I am holding your brother, I try to imagine that I am holding you…just one more time. Please know that I love you. Daddy loves you. Malachi loves you. Your grandparents & even people you have never met love you. My life is forever changed because of you.   Things that once seemed to matter…well, they just don’t matter anymore. I am so blessed to have known you; to have held you in my arms. No—it wasn’t enough, but in that moment—it was everything. I love you my sweet son. I love you Michael Scott Austin. Forever my baby you will be.

Love,

Mommy

Finding Joy & Learning to Love after Loss.

MalachisMom2 Comments

I will never forget the day your heart stopped beating, and mine kept beating…. The day I had to learn to live a life without you.

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I recall the first day that I went out into public after Michael had passed. I thought “I don’t know how to act. Do I smile as others walk passed me? Do I pretend like everything is alright?” I was scared to laugh. Scared to smile. I was afraid that my laughter would portray that my grief had passed; or worse, that I didn’t care about the loss of my son. Going out into the “real world” outside of hospital walls, monitors, and constant worry seemed unrealistic. I would hear people talk about their “problems” that seemed so inconsequential—and it would almost anger me. Learning to laugh, and have complete joy after losing Michael, and dealing with such a medically fragile child has been a challenge at times. But, I have been able to find joy, even in the core of grief. My smiles and laughter come much more easily than they used to. I like to think of them as a way of saying “I may feel like I’m drowning inside, but grief has not destroyed me”.

Thinking of the first day back to work since the twins were born, I recall how nervous I was—but I remember thinking, I just need to show people love. It was amazing how the Holy Spirit comforted me that morning as I drove to work. I thought, “God has given me the ability to love, and that is what I want to do today.” I had read the word that morning and came across the scripture

“” I pray that your love will overflow more and more, and that you will keep on growing in knowledge and understanding. (Philippians 1:9 NLT) “

I thought “wow—Lord let your love overflow through me today.  There was a lady that had delivered a set of twins on our unit.  I remember hearing the word “twins”… my heart sunk—a vivid image of a future of Michael and Malachi, my hopes and dreams for them flashed before my eyes. I thought—she is so blessed, and I really wanted to talk to her.  She called out for something to drink, so I took it to her.    We were talking, and I briefly shared with her my story about losing one of my twins.  I admired her two precious babies in the bassinet beside her bed.  We cried together and something she said stuck out in my mind—“I would have never known all that you have been through—you seem so happy.”  The truth is, I was hurting—seeing her healthy babies made me long for Michaels touch so deeply; but it was also healing.  I was forced to face my reality, and celebrate with this new mom in the midst of her elation.  It is true, joy can exist even in the center of immense sorrow.   In fact, great sorrow can actually expand our ability to have joy.   When you lose something so precious to you, you learn to love deeper and harder.  You learn to let go of your expectation of happiness, and find happiness in each and every moment. 

We are called to rejoice with others in their blessings in life, and mourn with those when they face devastating loss. We are called to LOVE.

“Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins. Show hospitality to one another without grumbling.” (1 Peter 4 8-9 NIV)

“Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God. Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love” (1 John 4 7-8 NIV)

One thing I have learned after the loss of a child is that many times people just don’t know what to say. Have you ever felt that way after experiencing intense grief? That nothing anyone could say could make things better? That you would almost rather them say nothing at all— than simplify your pain; or pity you? You really never have the “right words” when your soul has not felt such anguish.  No one could fathom the numbness and sting that simultaneously overtook me when I had to carry my dead baby to the morgue, say my last goodbye, or hand him over to the funeral personnel; and I don’t expect anyone to. These are the events that make my story of grief unique to me.

It is through my own personal relationship through Christ, and reading his word that I have been able to move forward and not only survive, but emerge from my suffering. It is through reading what he says about loss & overcoming immense pain—and applying it to my life—that I have learned to LIVE again.   It is through connecting with others that have experienced loss, and lifting each other up in with our words and actions. It is purposefully choosing each day to find Joy—and focus on our victory through Christ.

“No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us” (Romans 8:37 NLT)

After loss, the worst thing someone can do is pretend like the child never existed. Believe me, we want them more than anything to be REMEMBERED. They are forever our child, and not a day could ever go by that they do not come into our memories existence. It is through our verbalizations of them, through our memories, and momentums that they remain alive to us. It is both healing and therapeutic to talk about our babies that once were. Just this week I filled my house with pictures of both Michael & Malachi. I love seeing his face every morning. Does it hurt? Yes; but he is my child—and I want him to come up in conversation. I want people to grasp a glimpse into just how wonderful he was. I want Malachi to grow up knowing his brother. We long to be with him; but until we meet again, we will purposefully choose to be happy—to love deeper, to smile & laugh.

“Our hearts ache, but we always have joy. We are poor, but we give spiritual riches to others. We own nothing, and yet we have everything. 2 Corinthians 6:10

I love the last part of that verse—we have everything. It is true, when Christ is in the center of our heart, we do have everything. It is through laughter, smiles, & joy that we proclaim—Grief will not overcome; my hope remains in Christ! He is our only hope in this fallen world.

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We love you Michael! We miss you more than you will ever know.

Healing Tears–Overcoming the loss of Michael

MalachisMom3 Comments

I walked in the living room a few nights ago to my husband crying, and holding a photo of Michael.   I sat beside him, as we wept for our son together. The heaviness of our hearts-like a large dumbbell sitting on our chests. It was hard to breathe. A great America Author, Washington Irving, once stated:

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.”

-Washington Irving (1783 – 1859)

I find it most therapeutic to let my tears flow; it is as if I am releasing some of the pressure from the pain that is stored up. Some days it seems as if my storage of tears is an overflowing river; one that cannot be contained. The remarkable thing is, my heavenly father is my tear collector. Indeed -“You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.” (Psalms 56:8, NIV). Among many things I have learned through the loss of a child, I have learned that it is ok to be sad. Tears can be healing.

I remember so intensely the way I felt the day after Michael passed. I remember waking up, and feeling as if my stomach had been punched in the gut. I felt robbed. I recall holding my abdomen, crying; and saying repeatedly “I just want to hold you one more time” “I just need to feel you one more time” “I don’t understand.” Tears like streams fell, and I never thought I would be able to move forward. The truth is, one more hold, one more touch still would not have been good enough. I closed my eyes and tried to remember what it felt like when I held him for the first time; the softness of his frail skin; the smell and feel of his fuzzy blonde hair. My recollection of him was so vibrant; yet not satisfying enough—skewed by the images in my mind of his cold lifeless body. I prayed—“Lord, let me remember him as he was; let me see him as you see him-whole, healed, and new.”

The stages of grief for me were skewed; how could I adequately grieve the loss of Michael, and still stay strong for my child a few pods down in the NICU, fighting for his delicate life? I do however remember the stage of anger. I feel ashamed, but I remember being angry with God. I remember thinking; “how can I trust someone that let my child die.” I knew God had the power to heal my child; so why didn’t he? I had such immense faith that God was going to completely heal my Michael, and I felt cheated when his life was taken so abruptly from this world. I think about all the things I wanted him to experience in life…simple things, like seeing an ocean sunset, listening to music on Sunday morning with his mommy, playing outside in the yard with his daddy and brother. It did not seem fair that I had to be a part of “twinless” support groups, instead of support group for mothers with twins. Every time I saw a set of twins, or twin strollers, an articles about twins-my stomach fell into knots; knowing that ultimately this was not the life journey I was supposed to have.

Thankfully, even in the center of this tragedy, God has shown me his power, peace, and presence. I will never have all the answers I am looking for, but his holy spirit has given me peace and understanding that has allowed me to emerge from such bitter suffering. I had to let go of what I thought my life should look like, and know that ultimately God has a divine purpose for my life. Although my earthly mind cannot comprehend why I am not supposed to be the mother of healthy twin boys, or why Michael was not supposed to live—I cannot lose faith. I cannot lose hope. Undoubtedly, a life without God is just merely living. What I have learned is, whatever suffering God allows in your life—he has also given you the ability to emerge; with both faith and a future. Paul pleaded with Christ in 2 Corinthians 12 7-9 :

“I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger from Satan to torment me and keep me from getting proud. Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. Each time he said, my gracious favor is all you need. My power works best in your weakness.”

Furthermore, absolutely nothing can separate us from the love that Christ has for us.

“Can anything ever separate us from Christ’s love? Does it mean he no longer loves us if we have trouble or calamity or are persecuted, or are hungry or cold or in danger or threatened with death?” (Romans 8:35).

Although we live in a world full of brokenness; one thing remains the same—the love that Christ has for us is beyond measurable by any earthly means. A sacrificial love—“God demonstrates his own loves for us in this: While we were still sinners Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8).

I am comforted that Michael is seeing things far more beautiful than our earthly sunsets, and he is experiencing the sounds of God’s heavenly orchestra of praise among the angels. He is in the very presence of Christ, and does not have to ever experience the awful heart wrenching pains of this world. He has been spared from the evil that this life has to offer. An amazing author Nancy Guthrie once said, after losing her daughter, Hope, to a fatal genetic disorder….

“I don’t think it is a tragedy that she will have the opportunity to be spared from evil from the pain of this life, and be in the presence of God.   This is what I believe. It is not necessarily how I feel. But believing this makes a difference in how I feel.” (Nancy Guthrie, 2005)

It is true, it does not make that ache any less to know that Michael is gone; but knowing that he is in the presence of Christ can change the way I feel.

On Memorial Day this year, Jake, Malachi, & mommy went to Michael’s grave. It was the first time we were all together as a family. It was a very emotional experience, and we spent much time in prayer; and talking with our Michael. Jake and I always refer to Michael as the sun. On sunny days, we always say it is Michael shinning his face on us. It was very warm and sunny that day; and I could almost feel the warmth of his body when I closed my eyes. I imagined his sweet arms embracing me. What a glorious day it will be when we are reunited

Lord, I pray that you would give me a heart that embraces the plans you have chosen for me. We continue to pray for Malachi—and the complete healing of his brain and body. We know that you are working miracles in and through him every day. Thank you Lord for allowing me the absolute privilege to be Malachi & Michaels mommy. It is through you that all precious gifts are given—and my children are certainly the most precious gifts of all.

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