Scars

 I was listening to a song the other day called, "Scars" and it says, "I am thankful for the scars because without them I wouldn't know your heart."

I was driving and had just had a bit of a frazzling disagreement with one of my kids.  The song came on and it struck me hard.  I completely agreed.  My broken scarred heart was what brought me to Jesus.  I am grateful for the pain I have been through because without it I wouldn't know the character of God and the Savior.  Through all this messy life one thing is clear...Jesus loves us.  He scarred His perfect body to save us from death.  He went through unimaginable pain so we could be forgiven.  He did it knowing some of us wouldn't want this offering...but he did it anyway to give us the choice.  He didn't demand us to take this gift.  He lets us make stupid choices even though he can see what a mess we are about to create.  He loves us when we are standing in the aftermath of the chaos we created for ourselves and doesn't say, "I told you so!"  He is perfectly patient.  He doesn't give up on us.  He understands ultimate compassion and empathy.  Lately it has struck me how easily we can wear people out and empathy can be scarce.  It has discouraged me frequently.   I realized there is one source of empathy that never runs out.  I am so grateful for that!  People try...but we all fail each other.

I am so grateful for those who have scars and turn around and show kindness.  It would be easier to just become bitter and angry.  If we allow God to show us what we can become through the pain and brokenness...it is beautiful one day...even if it isn't for a long time.

I am grateful for scars.

(I Am They is the name if the band)

October 31st

 Halloween has always been my favorite holiday.  I loved dressing up and watching movies.

2010 I was due with Declan on Halloween.  I hadn't made it to my due date with my previous baby due to gestational diabetes but it was fun to think about.

After Declan died it was nice to have something to celebrate that wasn't a family gathering holiday.  Halloween continued to be my favorite.  It surprises me it isn't one of those gut punch days.  There are so many of those.  Halloween remains my favorite somehow despite it being Declan's due date...

Always painful...but always accompanied with peace...

As Declan's birthday was approaching I was a mess.  It didn't help I was feeling terrible.  I just felt off.  I haven't felt that way on his birthday for a  long time.

When the day came I was surprisingly at peace.  My kids took off the day from school.  I took out Declan's box and went through it.  I shed only a few tears...I had released most of them the week before.

God never abandons me.

He found me...

I was raised in a church my whole life.  I went to church every Sunday.  I was told I was a daughter of God since I was 3.  Somehow it didn't really sink in though.

Honestly it wasn't until Declan died I really felt for the first time how much love God has for me.  I felt it so strongly in that recovery room...it was nearly tangible.

It hurt like nothing I had ever experienced, however with the pain there was a hope and unrivaled love.  God knew.  He saw my pain.  He was even sorry that I was suffering.   He also knew I could continue to live with my broken heart...even if I didn't want to.

I have to admit no one is more surprised than me that I reacted that way.  I didn't have strong faith.  I didn't even know what I believed most of my life.  But in that moment where I was facing burying my child...I had to know.  And he didn't forsake me.  He was there.  He was ready to show me I mattered.  My pain mattered to him.

Sadly I still need to keep learning this.  Not three years later I was facing the worst depression and anxiety I have ever experienced thus far.  I was in actual physical pain from it.  I didn't know if I would survive it.

He found me.  Those dark places in my mind that tortured me, didn't want to release me.  I felt useless.  But he walked through the tunnel toward the pinprick of light so far away I didn't think I would get there.

No matter what happens...he has never forsaken me.  Even when I don't understand why I am suffering.  It doesn't matter if I have gotten angry, hopeless, or something in between He is there.  I have been prideful and unwilling to learn from most challenges at first.   But somehow I always find my way...even if I throw a childish tantrum first. There is always a sweet warm embrace awaiting me when I correct my course.  The patience it must take to be my Savior...but luckily he has an infinite amount.

If you are feeling lost or alone I promise you He knows.  He is there.  He will find you.  There is nowhere you can hide or fall where He can't find you.  It doesn't matter how small or worthless we feel...He doesn't see us that way.  You are His.  He loves you no matter what.  I promise!

Shame (A post from the past)

(I wrote this several years ago.  I didn't publish it because it was extremely personal and a way to vent.  But I thought it was time to share.)

Shame.

I had not thought much about this specific word until the last few years.  After I went through the chaos of learning about my cancer gene my sister gave me a book by Brene Brown, "The Gifts of Imperfections..."  She wrote about mainly shame in the book and it was then I realized how much of what I was feeling was shame.

I had made a choice about my gene and I felt shamed for it.  It had hurt so bad and I could not put my finger on why until I read the book.  I literally exclaimed out loud, "Thank you!" as I read it.  Shame!  Duh!  I was reacting to the shame that was gnawing at me like a poisonous snake. 

I had felt shame after my husband lost his job and we were stuck in my in-laws basement.  It was shame that had made it much harder than even losing Declan.

I felt shame the way people treated me like a second class citizen because my family lived in the basement and our monetary worth was not substantial.

I felt shame I gained weight and couldn't seem to stop eating.

I felt shame nothing worked out when we tried to fix our situation.

I felt shame when people made snap judgments on my choices as if the pain I was feeling did not matter.

I felt shame when treated as if I didn't have a clue or anything to offer because of my station in life.

I realized all this shame was crushing me.  It was the most painful experience of my life.  It robbed me of my worth.  I didn't even feel human anymore.  I was nothing and would be nothing forever.

It was as though the light finally shined down on me and showed me what was happening.

Shame.

It was the a-ha moment I had needed.

Little by little I have chiseled away at the ten ton stone crushing me.  I started small.  My choice about the gene.  I would no longer feel apologetic for my choice.  I would no longer feel the anxiety worrying someone would think I was making a mistake.  I would own my choice and ignore anyone else's opinion.  (It was my life not their's.)

Once I finally made peace with this choice (which honestly took a REALLY long time) I moved on to my living situation.  I no longer cared what people thought.  Who cares where I lived and why?!  If people wanted to worry or care about it...well...go for it.  I was no longer going to feel I had to apologize for struggling in life.  I also wasn't going to try to get people to understand:  just because something bad happened to Christian and I, doesn't mean we made the wrong choice.  Bad things happen that are unfair all the time to people that did nothing to deserve it.  I felt I finally was free because I knew that and if people didn't get that...well that is their own problem.

The next step was the shame I felt for myself.  I had to stop judging myself.  I had to be nice to myself.  I couldn't keep punishing myself for everything bad that had happened.  None of this was my fault.  I didn't ask for Christian to lose his job and quite frankly neither did he.  I didn't ask for a cancer gene.  I didn't ask for a financial crisis that landed me in my in-laws basement for years.  I didn't ask for all the stress that resulted in physical pain that broke my body and mind.

It was okay I had gained weight.  It was okay that I had felt beat up...life has a way of doing that sometimes.

I had to basically start over.  I had rebuild myself.  I felt nothing was left after the ravaging shame was done with me.  I was unrecognizable.  It was almost as if the old Christy had died.  She didn't survive the shame attack.

After digging in the rubble of my shattered worth and life I discovered the pieces I wanted and liked about myself.  I started to piece myself together.  It was so slow and painful.  However, as I started to pick up speed I realized it was nice to see who I had become after the pain started to disappear.

Forgiveness was next.  I had to forgive those who just didn't get it.  I had to begin to forgive those that made my journey harder.  I had to forgive those who threw fuel onto the shame fire already burning.  I also had to forgive myself.  I still have to work at fully forgiving and it isn't easy, but I know how freeing it is to forgive and not hold onto the pain.

I am finding the peace I have craved.  It is okay that not everyone understands me or my life.  It is okay that not everyone likes me.  It's okay that some people think they know what is best for me...and it isn't the choices I have made.  It's okay that I will never make everyone happy.  It's okay that people misunderstand me often.  

I know who I am now, for I had to rebuild her from the ruins and I know each and every piece intimately.  

I know that nothing is a guarantee.  I know that some times 1+1 doesn't always = 2.  Sometimes the easy answers or obvious ones don't happen.  I understand that people are the most important part of being here.  All this nonsense we all squabble about and try to impress each other with is just...nothing.  It is a waste of time and I am frankly sick of it.  I know I will never treat someone according to their monetary status for it does not equate to anything meaningful.

I hope to never let shame take over my life the way it has.  I should never have felt an explanation was necessary for anything that happened the last 6 years.

I am strangely grateful for all of this.  I learned a valuable lesson that I really quite honestly didn't want to learn.  Now that I have though...I am truly grateful.  I will never be the same person I would have been if I had gotten everything I had wanted.  I appreciate things much more.  I understand empathy intimately...both giving and receiving.  I will be forever changed for those who have extended their empathy and validation to me.  I felt really alone for many years.  But in the last year or so I have been sent so many that have reached out and they will never know how much that has meant to me.  They have taught me how much a word or just taking the time to listen can change everything for someone.

I don't know all the reasons why all this happened.  I may never know.  I do know though...I am better for it.  I will take these beautifully painful lessons with me throughout the rest of my life.  I knew there was a plan in this and it was being orchestrated by a wise Father, but I did not want to cooperate or except it.  I didn't want any of this.  I just wanted my life back.  I wanted my freedom.  I wanted my self respect back.  The only way I could see of getting it was to get my freedom.  I did not see another way.  I was wrong and right.  I stumbled along until I let Him find me.  He fought for me in a way I didn't understand.  I didn't see the wreckage was a way to the freedom I sought.

I have heard in many competitive shows the statement, "All we require is everything you have."  It seems life requires the same.  It has taken everything from me.  Sometimes it gives nothing back.  Sometimes it gives you more than you deserve.  Sometimes it gives and takes at the same time.

I haven't forgotten...

 It has been nearly a year and a half since writing here.  I have gotten pregnant and had a baby since.  I have finished this chapter of my life.  I will no longer bring a baby into this world.  I am ready for a new chapter...but I am going to miss this one.

Tonight I was ready for bed at 7...I was so tired.  I found myself wrestling a restless baby instead.  I took her into Christian's office so she could crawl around and not disturb anyone.  I sat down the the exercise ball he keeps in there and watched her.  I was feeling cranky and longed to sleep.  Then I looked around the room and remembered what that room once was.  Emmy's room.  I pictured where her crib and then toddler bed went.  I remembered sitting on the floor and wrapping her in Declan's bedding as I sang her to sleep.  I remembered that broken hearted mother who had no idea she would carry two more babies and bring them home safe.  The fresh pain that would wash over her as she ran her fingers over Emmy's beautiful curls wishing she could hold her baby son and kiss his chubby cheeks.

Sometimes it doesn't feel real.  It almost feels like a story I heard somewhere.  Sometimes I am sad that it doesn't hurt like that anymore.  Sometimes I am grateful it doesn't hurt that much.  Sometimes grief still catches me by surprise even though it has been over a decade.

I still miss him.  I am happy in life...but I miss him.  I will always miss him.  I have two rainbow babies that have soothed my aching heart.  (I had a miscarriage before my youngest, but that is another story for another day.)

Life is busy and hard and lovely and now full of my children.  Many years ago I wasn't sure if I would get to have more.  I thought Emmy might end up my baby.  But God saw what I needed when I needed it.  I will never forget those tender moments of my shattered heart painfully, but deeply loving my living children as I tried to make sense of what had happened.  They were sweet and terrible...and I cherish them still.

Encouragement...

I haven't been on here for over a year.  I fell out of the habit of coming here when I needed to think.  I am not sure why.

As I watched the world change nearly overnight I have thought of coming here often.  Time has been hard to find these days.  One would think being stuck at home would lend itself to more time for this.  It didn't.  I have 3 kids to make sure they are getting school work done, I have to feed them, make sure they are okay after all this insanity, and somehow keep the house somewhat clean.

Last summer we had a feeling we should move back to our home.  The problem was Christian has a job in a different state.  So I have been doing this alone since last year.  It has been a growing experience.  I have learned several things...but the three that have been most profound are first, I love Christian even more than I thought and appreciate the security and love he offers me each day.  Second, I am more capable than I give myself credit for.  Lastly, and definitely not least, is there is power in prayer.  Of course I always knew most of these things, but I took them for granted most days...even while I have been doing this by myself.  As I was feeling the weight of everything the world turned upside down and I felt the blow most profound being here alone.

I cried to Christian and felt the panic rise inside.  How am I supposed to do this without him?  I nearly broke down in Trader Joe's seeing the empty shelves.  How do I keep my family safe?  I thought of all those who have lost their spouses and this is how it always is.

I have had to lean on my my Heavenly Father to get me through each day.  I have had a lot of small miracles and angels love me from 6 feet away.  I am humbled how much help I receive from texts of encouragement or checking on me.  My family sent me a huge package with fun stuff for the kids, but also toilet paper I have struggled to procure.

I know I am not alone in feeling grateful we are all healthy.  My heart breaks for those losing loved ones and not being there to say goodbye.  As someone who has had to bury a child I can't imagine not being able to say goodbye.  I can't imagine not having everyone at the funeral you want to invite.  I can't imagine adding grief to this already scary time.

Last weekend we had a conference where we listen to our leaders speak.  It was definitely different than it usually is.  Usually there are many who attend from all over the world.  There is a huge choir to sing beautiful hymns.  However, instead they had used choir performances from previous conferences.  It stung to see the many people in the audience on those past years.  It was hard to see just the small gathering where the speakers were spaced 6 feet apart.  There were no shaking hands or hugs.  But despite what was lacking, there was much gained by the powerful words of encouragement.  They articulated all those feeling that I haven't be able to express.

Today we join in a fast with anyone who wants to join, no matter their religion or beliefs.  I knelt in prayer with my 6 year old this morning and had him offer the prayer.  He simply said, "Please bless the people of the world will feel better."  It couldn't have been said more eloquently.  My prayer is that we will be able to heal whether physically, emotionally, and/or financially.  I pray Christian will be able to join his family.  I pray that we will remember this time and be grateful for simplicity in life.  I have been grateful for the time to be with my children.  I do love having them around and not being so busy with outside activities.  I know they miss school and friends, but it is nice to just connect as a family.  I have watched the blow ups, but also the loving way they care for each other.  We had a scare and our dog was sick and all my kids were worried for him.  They have already lost a dog...and they worried it would happen again.  Luckily, he is fine.  Now the kids snuggle him a little tighter and are more patient...for the most part...than they have been.  May we not take for granted the things we are lacking now.

God bless you all!

One of my least favorite times of the year...

I have mentioned I have the lovely genetic mutation for breast and ovarian cancer in previous posts.  This has been a huge challenge in my life the last four years.  It has nearly robbed me of my sanity.

This month is one of the lovely tests I undergo every six months.  It is the worst one.  MRI.

I am super claustrophobic and it is very hard for me.  The first test I literally had to tell myself, "You have no other choice, except surgery.  You have to do this.  Don't you dare freak out!"

I had to pray to just get through the test.

I made it.

This has been a terrible and wonderful journey.  I hate knowing.  I wish sometimes I hadn't found out.  I can't "unknow" this.  Once I found out I couldn't just pretend it wasn't there.

I had to relearn who I am.  I rather like the woman I found in the rubble.  But it was the worst feeling not knowing who I was anymore.

I had to find my faith again.  Declan pushed me to the beginning of who I was and if there was a God.  That I will never forget.  I have from that moment known there is a God. 

This pushed me to test whether I could trust God.  I knew He was there.  But could I trust He would guide me...even if it meant I wouldn't get to live a long life?  It was the scariest leap of faith I have made.

It has made me a better wife and mother though.  I was afraid to live before because of the fear.  Now I just feel lucky.  I want my husband to remember who I was and who I was trying to be...not the scared little girl in the corner.  It would be such a waste to live my life terrified all the time.

When I was a kid I ran track.  There were many times I would finish a race and I would realize I had so much more to give and I hadn't done my best.  I don't want to look back on my life and think the same thing.  I had way more to give and I wasted it.

I still have bad days.  I still get scared.  But I know I am not alone and this is my life...I don't want to waste it.

Progress...

Loneliness.  I have felt truly alone only a few stretches in my life.

This last month has been one.

Christian was going through something challenging.  I understood.  I did not blame him.  His focus is on providing for his family.  I respect him for it.  But it left me alone in my own trial.

It sapped everything out of me.  It surprised me how hard it was.  I have been through depression and hopelessness.  But I didn't feel that way...so it was weird how tired and sad I was.  But hope was there.  It kept me from the blow that could have shattered.

I didn't tell anyone for over a week.  I just sat in the house and dealt with it the best I could.  I didn't even tell my kids.

Then I finally opened up to a friend.  She was so sweet.  It felt good to have someone to talk to about it.  Christian wanted to be there for me...but he just couldn't be.  I couldn't be there for him either.  I was tapped.  There was no room for anything else.

I opened up another two weeks later to my other friend.  She told me something that didn't hit me until I went home.  "I'm proud of you for handling this so well after everything you have been through."

I sat and thought about it that night.  I hadn't put much thought into it, but she was right I had handled it better than I normally would have.  I have been blow apart so many times my usual was just pick up the pieces after being blasted apart.  This time I didn't fall apart.  I was cracked slightly, but I am still good.  She helped me recognize my progress.

I had promised myself I would take a leap with Heavenly Father several months ago.  I would just trust Him and stop trying to control everything.  It has been freeing!  I did really well until something happened a few months ago.  I fell apart.  I was numb.  I was angry.  I was numb again.  Christian begged me not to go there.  But I did.  I just didn't get it.  I was just done!  I had been pushed too hard.  Christian and I have tried so hard these last few years.  We would build a door hoping this is where we are meant to go.  We lovingly prepared the door, but when we were to open it...it broke or slammed shut.  We would catch our breath and start over again.  This has been repeated over and over.  This last time was literally my breaking point.  I snapped.  I broke my promise to trust.  I just gave up.  I was never getting what I wanted.  I was just stuck.  I felt forgotten.  I had literally done everything I could think of and it just didn't feel enough.

Then I pulled myself out of it by asking for forgiveness.  I pushed myself to do more.  It was as if I was in a 100 miler and I was on mile 99 and I was wounded and crawling.  I had to make myself get up and start running even though it felt like I had absolutely nothing left.  I pushed and I know I wasn't alone.

This seems to be swinging our way slowly.  I have been told by my dad and Christian's this was our year.  When it started out I had my doubts, but even with the heartache at the beginning of this month I am hopeful things are turning around.  I am no longer hoping it will workout.  I feel it very likely will happen and I am just going to have faith it will.  Not if...when.

I have come a long way.  I have been through hell and back so many times I have nearly memorized the path.  But I am a fighter and I haven't given up yet...though there are times I really wanted to.  I am grateful for those cheering me from this side of the veil and beyond.

Finding the Son...

My lasts posts have probably indicated how much I am struggling.  The weight of all I have been asked to do and go through has been really difficult.  Yesterday I decided I was going to try to stop feeling sorry for myself and do things that will help me feel the Spirit of Christmas.

So, we sat as a family, to my teenager's dismay, and sang Christmas Carols last night.  Everyone picked their favorite, even my teen.  Ironically, my grumpy teenager was the one who picked, "Away in a Manger."  I have sung that song so many times I know it by heart.  Then we got to the third verse and I found myself touched by the words and somehow they seemed more profound than ever.

"Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask thee to stay close by me forever, and love me, I pray...and fit us for heaven to live with thee there."

I sat and pondered the words for a minute.  It doesn't sound that profound now as I am sitting here typing this.  But at that moment in time I felt the steady, constant flow of love from my Savior more acutely as I sang the words petitioning for His love.

I have felt forgotten.  I have felt alone at times through the various disappointments and struggles the last few weeks.  I needed a reminder that I am not alone.  I have not been forgotten.  Somehow, some way everything is going to be okay, even when I can't see any possible way it could be.  All the heartache and struggle I have endured is His way of "fit[ting]" me "for heaven to live with [Him] there."

Empathy...

I had never thought much about empathy in my life until the last few years.  I knew what it was.  I even thought I had a reasonable amount.  Then the bottom fell out of my life and suddenly I was the recipient of many people's heartless comments and actions.

They didn't know any better.  I am sure I have fallen into that category from time to time, but it really got me thinking.

When people act like what you are going through, that has knocked the wind out of you, is nothing...well it hurts!

The most interesting thing is when people you don't expect come out of nowhere and do amazing things.

We had the misfortune of something really awful happen to our investing accounts.  It took Christian's entire account down.  Christian was devastated.  He had made a friends with the guy who was trying to find us affordable insurance a couple of months ago.  He had talked to Christian about investing and they chatted over the last few months.  When this man found out about Christian's account he was just sick.  He even offered us a huge sum to save it.  Then I found out his wife, whom we have never, ever met, was just as sick and willing to give the money to save us...even if it was completely lost.  We didn't take it, but the fact that two almost strangers cared that much for what we were going through was the most remarkable thing I had ever experienced.

Empathy is powerful.  It moves people to do such incredible things.  After Declan died I saw it in the most unlikely sources.  I would be sitting in church and someone I hardly talked to would come up and put their arms around me.  I had people drop things off at my door.  I had people donate money so we could get a headstone.  I have photos of Declan's funeral and sometimes I peruse them.  I will never forget the tears running down their cheeks as they hurt for our little family.

It seems simple, but I am surprised how many people don't know how to be there in the moment.  They want and need you to be okay so they will be okay.  They brush it aside as though what you are feeling and what has hurt you is nothing.  "It will be fine." They say.  "You'll just get another job." They also say.  "At least you can have more children."  And so on...

I never knew how many people struggle with you having a hard time...until I was the one struggling.  They want to paint your silver linings for you.  Help you see better.  Help you get through this as fast as possible.  Only, that's not their job.  I have never needed to have someone paint the silver linings for me.  I see them.  I acknowledge them.  Just because I am sad doesn't mean I don't see them.  There is no need to point them out.  Just because you can see the rainbow doesn't mean you aren't getting rained on...

This time of year brings out the painful reminder that I am missing someone in my family.  I don't get to buy gifts for him.  I don't get to watch his excited face on Christmas morning.  His giggles aren't heard as he jumps up and down while seeing what Santa brought him.  The hole in my heart feels bigger.  While our family gathers there is one missing.  I will never have my whole family together at Christmas in this life.  It is so hard.  I have slowly made progress.  I hated this time of year 8 years ago.  I barely survived it 4 years ago.  I skipped Christmas (well not really it was a trip and only one gift each, but essentially we skipped it) 2 years ago.  Now I look forward to the Christmas season...then it hurts as I go through it.  I don't know which is better...it is what it is.  I have developed an appreciation for my strange contradicting feelings during certain parts of the year.

I hope you all have an amazing Christmas!  I hope I can find those quiet moments to really enjoy this season.  I hope if you struggle like me through this season it brings you comfort in some way at some point.  Merry Christmas!

The humbling path...

The last few years have been some of the most challenging of my life.  We have made a plan and I pushed myself to feel hope and excited for the future; only to have that plan, not only not workout, it feels I slammed into a brick wall.  I pick myself up stunned and hurting.  I dust myself off and round 2; only mustering the hope is a little harder.  Brick wall.  I stagger and this time it feels like my entire body has been broken.  Round 3.  Round 4.  What round am I even on now?!  45?!

It hurts.

I have felt forgotten.  I believe in blessings.  I believe in miracles.  I believe that God can make anything happen.  But I have gotten to a place where I feel maybe He just doesn't want me to have what I want.  I hurts to want it anymore.

And so I try to be grateful for what I do have.

I have a lot.  I know this.  I try to remember the beautiful parts and not focus on the plans in ruins on the path behind me.

I struggle though.

This last derailment really hurt.  I found myself on my knees just sobbing, "I don't get it," over and over.  There was nothing more to say.  I just don't get it.

I can't muster hope anymore; at least in this instance.  I have resigned myself to this.  I give up.  Christian is fighting so hard for it and I want to hope because he deserves my hope, but I can't.  It just hurts too much.

I am not even mad.  I'm just incredibly sad that God doesn't feel I should have this.  I don't understand it.  There has been this piece of me through the last almost 6 years that felt it would end.  It must end.  That was the only way I could survive.  Now it feels it won't.  I am stuck for who knows how long.... 

I am at the mercy of others.  I am managed.

I have been humbled to my core.  Every time I have hit the lowest I have ever felt...there's a new low.  I never knew how pathetic I could feel until the last few years happened.

I am rubble of who I thought I was.  I have had to rebuild myself over and over only to feel another huge hole punched into me.

This time I don't feel like patching that hole.  Maybe I should just leave it.  It doesn't seem worth it.  That hole keeps being punched back through just as I patch it.

Maybe this is the place I was supposed to end up before things change.  I don't know.  I know in other times in my life when I felt like I was about to snap from the stretching, that was when the miracle came.  This time I felt I was about to snap about 50 times...so I am running out of stretch before I just break...maybe I already have.

I just hope my love for Heavenly Father can get me through this.  I also hope that there is mercy somewhere down this road.  But at this point I don't know if it is going to be anytime soon.

Beyond my strength...

I breath in and hold it.  I hold it too long and suddenly my body makes me let out the breath in a loud puff.  I remind myself to inhale again.  Why does it have to be this hard to breathe?!

I feel each heartbeat as though it is going to break through my chest.

I am so tired.  Why am I so tired?!  I proceed to go through my day and realize why...I am busy.

I take care of others all day.  I enjoy it.  I wouldn't choose anything else.  But then there are those moments it isn't rewarding.  It is spirit-crushing.  The huge load I feel I hold above my head is starting to get heavy.  It is going to take me out if I don't get help soon.  My knees wobble.  My eyes spill the tears I have been holding back.  My arms are trembling so violently any minute the load will come crashing down and scatter into a million pieces.

I cry out for help.

It comes.  Peace surrounds me.  I almost physically feel the load being pushed up with no help from me.  I hear the words, "It's going to be okay."

I don't even know how any of this can be okay, but I trust it.

I am not alone.  He knows.  He understands.  Somehow He makes it possible.  I am reminded I matter.  I am one of many, but I am still singular in being...me.  I am left better than I was only moments ago.

Nothing is different.  I still have the load to carry.  It just seems lighter somehow.  I know I am not walking this path alone.  I need constant reminders.  I try to hold it alone too often.

Today I know I can do it.  Tomorrow I will remind myself again.  The time will come again when I need someone else to remind me...because my voice doesn't seem enough...but His is.

That time of year again...

I have spent the last 8 years loving/hating this time of year.  Fall has always been my favorite ever since I was a kid.  I love the smells.  I love the leaves.  I love sweaters.  I love bundling under blankets.  I love Halloween.  It just is a fantastic time of year! 

But it also brings me sorrow.

It isn't all bad.  I actually like having a designated day to just reflect on Declan.  I do feel as time expands between us I don't spend as much time thinking about him.  He is always with me, but life is busy and I don't need to sit and have a long cry as much anymore.  I am glad I have come so far, but there always is a sliver of guilt that I feel I am leaving him behind somehow.  I know it isn't the case.  I know he understands.  But I can't help feeling neglectful somehow.  (It must be a mom thing.)

So when his birthday approaches I start to wonder.  Will I fall apart?  Will this be fine?  It is never how I expect it.  This year it hit me hard the day before.  No clue why.  I found myself scooping my toddler up and taking him to the dollar store to buy him helmets and ninja masks.  Then we played and I let him win our little battle.  I kept thinking of his brother.  What would he have done today?  What kind of party would he have wanted to plan?  Would Ollie and Declan fight all the time?  Would they play swords?  Would I let Declan stay home from school on his birthday?  I usually let everyone else now that he is gone.

Declan's birthday has become our family's strange holiday.  It is a cherished time.  I don't allow any plans on his birthday.  I beg Christian to stay home from work.  We take off school.  We go to the movies and play.  I used to donate blankets on his birthday, but it became nearly unbearable.  My friend told me not to...but I didn't listen.  I have put my blanket project on hold...but I really feel I should start it back up.  I do love making them.  But Declan's birthday has become a beautiful day and a terrible day.  Part of the day I am happy and feel so grateful to spend time with my family.  Then at some part of the day I just feel exhausted that I am going to spend my whole life reflecting on the loss of my son every. single. year.  Aren't I 80 yet?!  Then I get sad.  It's just a strange day.  But it is our day.  It is my day.  I have come to love it through the tears, frustration, and messy day it has become.  There is always a moment in the day I know Declan appreciates we think of him and that he means so much to us.

Life is messy.  It is hard.  I never had any doubt it would be hard.  But still, it surprised me how gut-wrenching and soul-crushing it could be.  Then there are those magic moments when it makes all those moments, that hope evaporates and you are hanging on for dear-life, worth it.

I am not sorry that I have to love/hate September 28th.  It is my payment for having an angel in my life.  We all have guardian angels that watch over us, I just got to carry one around with me for 8 months until he was asked to go home.  I have felt him cheer for me.  I have felt him sorrow with me.  I will always be grateful to be his mom.

Happy birthday Declan!  I can't believe it has been 8 years since I last held you.

Angels in life...

I slid down the door and hugged myself.  If I didn't maybe I would break into pieces.  I collapsed onto the floor and cried.  I was never going to be the same.  I heard my children behind the door I had closed to my room.  They were cleaning.  Cleaning!  I didn't deserve it.  They knew I was sad...did they hear me crying?  I knew I wasn't sobbing quietly.

I felt so alone.

I picked up my phone and called.  The influx of info didn't help.  I hung up feeling more scared.

My sister brought her kids and food.  She sat and listened.  She made my choice okay.  But I felt my body suddenly was chain-mail...I couldn't move.  Every movement seemed taxing.  It hurt.  Life hurt.  Thinking hurt.  Nothing felt normal.  Panic was fluttering my heart.

I didn't know I would wake in tears months later.  Or that I wouldn't sleep other nights and just cry instead.

I was so alone.

No one seemed to understand.

I didn't even know if Christian understood...or wanted to hear it.  I felt like a burden.  I was struggling and it was hard for me to talk about, let alone think about anything else.

Finally, in utter frustration and despair I begged Christian to tell me how he felt.  Was I annoying him?  Was I being stupid?  I was I making a mistake?  Tell me PLEASE!!

I fell in love with Christian all over again.  He just knew what to say.  He knew what to do.  He prayed with me.  He held me while I cried.  He gave me a blessing.  He reassured me.  He gave me back my voice.  He made such a horror somehow not so huge.

Heavenly Father sent me angels in my life.  Some literal and some the people in my life.  He gave my an angel son to love.  He gave me three other children who have blessed my life.  But most of all, he gave me a man to love.  Christian has been the biggest blessing of my life.  Our life together hasn't been easy.  I didn't realize what "marriage is hard" meant.  It really is!  It is a miracle we are still together!  It is HARD!  But it is also amazing!  When things are good between Christian and I it's like magic.  I feel I can do anything, be anything, and handle anything.

He will never truly know how much his love means to me.  The way he looks at me as though I am the only girl that exists...is humbling.  The way he works so hard on our relationship is an amazing blessing.  I haven't always seen this or understood it.  It has taken many years and a lot of fights to see him correctly.

I have seen very painfully, when a marriage doesn't work out.  It hurts to watch.  It makes me nervous; I know no marriage is immune.  It makes me grateful for Christian.  He never gave up on me even through the really, really crappy times that we barely hung on....

I don't know why things happen the way they do.  I don't know why I was given Christian and others have someone who throws away their relationship as though it meant nothing.  I don't know why I lost my son and others keep babies that are born much more preemie than Declan.  Life is fully of the unfair.  Life is full of disappointment.  But I do know that God loves us.  The unfairness of life doesn't mean He forgets us.  I felt His sorrow for me when Declan died.  I knew He cared and He was sorry.  I don't really know all the reasons Declan isn't here.  But I know He knows...and I trust Him.  I am thankful for the gifts He has let me keep.

Digging deep...

I have spent a lot of time thinking about trials the last 7+ years.  There are many reasons why...I've addressed several of them in this blog.  I have come to a few conclusions through all my contemplation...

1.  I love life.  It isn't easy.  It isn't what I expected.  But it is pretty amazing.

2.  I understand empathy.  I am sure there are facets of empathy I still do not understand, but I do understand it more than when I was young.

3.  The more I endure the more capable I become.  This is the tough one.  I hate to admit I learn things from my trials.  A.)  Because I am scared that Heavenly Father will see that I finally figured it and give me more.  B.)  Because during the suffering it is hard for me to see the purpose.  I just want it to end...I don't want to learn it.  

It is hard to learn things through challenges.  I remember thinking I was grateful all I had learned after Declan died...but hating learning it that way.

4.  Something I have recently learned...(well, okay I had an inkling of this years ago, but nevertheless, I did learn it more poignantly lately)...was to dig deep in my understanding of Christian.

I think I have been there for Christian in years past.  I think there were times I was better than others.  But I realized there was more I could do.  He needs a cheerleader.  I have this obnoxious need to point out all the ways he is not doing things right.  I am not perfect in this, but I have tried really hard to be more positive.  There have been so many days that he has been discouraged...and I don't blame him,it has been hard.  Everyone needs to be told, "Everything is going to be okay."  I found this the case with Christian.  I don't know why I didn't think he needed that.  I suppose there is this strange idea that men don't need reassurance and support.  I probably should have figured this out before.  Christian is really good at hiding the struggles he goes through.  But the light went on when instead of my silly panicking, I just looked at Christian and told him I felt everything was going to be okay.  I still falter some days and find myself panicky.  That's okay.  Still learning.  But I am grateful for the chance to learn, grow, and better myself.  As I do I see my relationship with Heavenly Father, my husband and my children change and strengthen.

The trials that take me to these understandings are hard.  There are days I don't want to learn any more.  I just want to pretend I have it all and I don't want to change.  But life doesn't allow that for long.  I am prodded along and usually forced to deal with the task set before me.

 5.  As each challenge has come I do have more understanding and strength.  It is as if faith is a muscle and the memory of previous uses moves me forward.  It helps me remember I have done many hard things...this one won't take me down...the others didn't.

6.  It is not an easy plan Heavenly Father set before us.  Jesus is there for us because the task was not meant to be easy.  He is the mercy.  He is empathy.  He is the ultimate love we will never fathom here.  

I hear about people talk a lot about power...the power we have to overcome, to be better, to be amazing.  I don't know of any power, but the one that rescued me from my pain.  The power that comes from Heaven is the only power I know of...I do not have any power on my own.  The strength I do have is Heaven sent and it has made all the difference in my life.

A brighter view...

It has been many years since I have felt like me.  After Declan died I felt the life I had once was gone.  My time right before I got pregnant, with him, was what I call my "magic" years.  Everything seemed to be going wonderfully.  I had an amazing life.

After my world came crashing down I just couldn't feel like me.  I saw glimpses of her once in a while...but it was all too different and I thought she had disappeared.

The next few years were just hit after hit.

It has been over two years since the last hit.  I had attempted so many times to pull myself out of my dark places, but then I was knocked back inside those places.  This last time was pretty awful.  I just felt like life was going to just continue to kick the crap out of me.  I just wanted to stay down until life decided to stop kicking me.

Finally, in complete and utter desperation I begged for help, but this time I asked for help to do what He would have me do.  I started to feel I was being healed.  The pain, anger, hopelessness, and just feeling beaten-down started to ease.

There is strengthen in doing what God asks.  I knew that all along and I thought I was doing what he had asked.

But I wasn't.

There was things I felt prompted to do and it just didn't make sense to me.  I finally felt I could no longer ignore them or rationalize not doing them.  Since I started the path He laid for me I feel free.  I feel as though I am back to the "magic" years.  I was in there still...under all that pain and anguish.

I promised myself years ago I would do whatever the Lord asked of me.  But I started to question myself.  I didn't feel I was guided anymore.  I just told myself I wasn't good at understanding promptings...I had been questioned and burned so many times.

I'm not perfect at it.  But I realized I am much more than I give myself credit for.  I am weak, but with God I can become strong...

"And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them."  (Ether 12:27)

I have felt that strengthening lately in my life.  It has literally saved me from the depths, of a depressed hell, I have been the visitor of many times in my life.

I have to continually be vigilant and not let those fears and doubt sink back in and torture me from within.  I understand the Atonement even more acutely more than I have in years past.  He does carry my burden...if I only ask.  If I only do what He asks.  It seems so simple, why do I let my life get so complicated with trying to do it alone?  Why do I slide back into my habits of not doing what he asks...even when it looks hard?  It is always harder when I don't do what I'm asked.  Why have I had to learn this so many times over and over?

The one good thing about finding out about the cancer gene is that I know the wisdom of my Savior more than I did previously.  It feels as though my life is really in the palms of His hands.  It is humbling to know we have absolutely no say in whether we stay or go.  Everyone knows this.  But for me it became extremely real.  It wasn't just theoretical anymore.

The beautiful thing is...I'm not in charge of life.  I rather like that I'm not.  I have taken the burden of fretting and realized no matter how much I fret...it doesn't change anything.  He will do what is best for me.  He loves my children.  He will do what is best for them.  What is best for us isn't always fun or what we want.  But I have come to see I truly do not know what will help me be happy; on my own I never seem to make choices that bring me happiness.  It is only when I allow Him to show me I feel happiness envelop me and I realize I need Him to enjoy my life.  Even if what He asks is the scariest thing I have ever had to do.  I have more joy in my life with God than without.

I know with absolutely surety there is a God.  I do not have the strength and ability to heal myself and to continue forward after the hard things I have endured.  I couldn't find hope on my own.  I have lived in the depths of sadness and fear.  I have felt hope evaporate.  I have had physical pain from the ravages of depression and anxiety.  I am certain I am incapable of mustering the hope and joy that has bloomed from my soul.  I had always hoped there was a God.  When I laid in the hospital the day Declan died, feeling like my body was completely torn in half, and I was so shattered; I didn't see how it would ever be okay again.  I turned to Christian and asked if he believed there was a God.  He didn't hesitate.  He told me he did.  Not long after that I found myself alone and I was in so much physical pain I thought it might kill me.  I was laying in my hospital bed crying when I plead with Heaven asking, if there was a God I had to know.  It was then I came to know, not hope, that God exists.  The power with which I was surrounded I will never forget.

The speed of the answer was humbling.  He wanted me to know without hesitation that He was there.

The day we buried Declan the bishop, who did the funeral, was a family friend and his words were the only I remember from the funeral.  He said when we need our Savior it is His nature not only to come, but to run to us.  I felt that the day I needed to know if Heaven and all of the exalted Beings existed.

The last almost 8 years I feel I have been worked and reworked.  I have a long way to go still, but I am an improved version of the girl I found is still there.  I know I am better for all of this...even though there were times I wanted it taken from me.  I am grateful for my chance on Earth.  I feel the pressure of the years of hard things starting to lift.  Somehow everything is going to be okay.  I need not fear...I have the Lord on my side.

My silence...

Two years ago I had everything I knew about myself ripped away.  It sounds stupid, but it was one of the hardest events of my life.  I found myself staring down the barrel of cancer.  I didn't have it.  But I have the gene.  I suddenly looked at my little family and panicked.  I saw my kids at my funeral.  I saw my husband without a wife.  I was up all night crying.  I was on my knees pleading with my Father in heaven.

I took down my blog.  I felt myself slip away.  The hope I had worked so hard for started to disappear in my hands; even though I clutched it tightly.

I crumbled and everything fell.

I thought I knew what fear was.  I have been a very fearful person throughout my life, but this was so consuming I couldn't seem to push it away.

I found myself in MRIs and Mammograms.  I was going to a cancer center every year.  I had their letter head coming in my mail and it nearly stopped my heart every time I picked up my mail and spied those horrible blue letters.

It was such a whirlwind of information.  Surgery?  Screening?  It all seemed too much.  I longed for the Christy I knew before...the one who didn't fear her own body.  Every twinge or sore muscle would make the fear return with vengeance.  It would bounce around my mind...destroying me with every collision.

Then as I was in a very bad place, my cousin's cancer came back and she returned to her Father in heaven.  It was so hard not to let the fear just take the reins.

I have cried so many tears over this stupid gene.  For all I know I won't even get it.  50%- 80% is a huge range.  But it is something, I frequently say, I can't "unknown."  It is there and now I can't pretend it doesn't exist.

I had my decisions shamed.  It hurt more than I will ever be able to express.  I questioned myself a lot afterward.  I finally realized that my path is mine and mine alone.  I cannot rely on others to know what I need to do nor allow people to tell me what they think I should do.  The Lord has told me I won't make a mistake and that cancer will not take me before my time.  I have to hope that means I will be able to raise my kids and be Christian's wife until we are old.  My time and the Lord's time are very different.  His "okay" is not my "okay."  Declan is proof of that.  I knew everything was going to be okay, but it certainly wasn't what I had wanted.  It worked out and I see the Lord's way is beautiful even through its heartbreak.

I am starting to trust myself again, but more importantly I am trusting my Father in heaven.  He has helped me rebuild myself piece by piece.  (He made me better than I was before I crumbled.)  It is the scariest thing I have ever done.  I literally feel I have stepped off a cliff hoping I didn't make a mistake.  I do know absolutely:  He will catch me.  Whatever the outcome is I know it was meant for me.  I can't keep staring down at the jutting rocks below and retreating from the ledge cowering in fear.  I know He is trying to refine me into something precious and that doesn't come easy.  I finally stepped off the ledge even though I don't see how this will all go...I know He does.  I am trusting Him to guide me through this.  I must stop taking the first step and then abandoning Him because of my fear.

I don't have all the answers, but I do know that my Heavenly Father loves me...I have felt it very clearly the last two years.  I lost my way for a while, but I was never alone.

****

I felt I needed to start this blog up again.  I don't know if anyone will ever read this again.  But I have learned I need to follow through on promptings I receive.  Hopefully, my random thoughts are somewhat helpful to someone out there.

6 years ago...

October 8th, 2010 I was boarding a plane to go to Declan's funeral.  I had a c-section 11 days prior.  Walking was a challenge without significant pain.  I pushed 2 year old Emmy's stroller with a few bags on it.  My mom had asked if it was too heavy, but there were car seats and other bags...no one else to grab them; Christian and my mom were already full and 5 year old Bryce couldn't take all that much.  So I lied and  I pushed it.  I felt a pang, but I ignored it.  

We were late and we needed to get to the plane.  There was a hold up, since the airport security decided that my mom's curlers were a threat to everyone's security.  We spent much precious time waiting for them to release my mom's bag.  When the bag was given we hurried...I couldn't hurry...but I did anyway.

Boarding was taking place, but the line was long.  The chaotic nature of traveling with children made my nerves raw.  Christian had the brilliant idea of going to the bathroom with our son.  I started to panic when it was the last call to board.  My mom unknowingly made my panic a category 5 when she decided to take Emmy on the plane without the rest of us.

I was in tears when Christian finally found me.  I yelled, not caring at all people could hear and probably thought I had lost my mind.  We boarded and there weren't any seats by my mom and precious daughter.  I nearly lost it again.

As we headed back I realized there weren't three seats for Christian, Bryce and I.  I nearly broke into tears again.  The people aboard had no idea the mess they were flying with that day.

A kind stranger moved when asked and we were able to secure seats many rows away from my daughter.  The separation nearly killed me.

I popped a pain pill since, by then, the incision was aching and I was certain I had pushed much too hard.

I hate flying, this day was no different.  We got into the air and I held Christian's hand much too tightly.

The only thing I was even grateful for was to see Declan again.  I had time with him a little longer before he was to be buried.

We arrived at my mom's home.  My sister was busy in the kitchen.  I had not taken her calls.  I hadn't take any calls.  I barely text anyone.  She greeted me without looking at me.  I knew it was hard to know what to say.

I spent time putting together Declan's picture frames.  I had a friend drop off the frames and I was assembling the pictures since I had them printed up where my family lived.

As I determined which picture went where, my dad came in and told me my grandpa was sad he couldn't come.  I knew this would be the case...he had surgery not long before.

It was planning, going to see Declan, having time to sit and watch the slideshow I had made for Declan.  When the day of the funeral came I was so depleted.

The next day, October 9, 2010, my friend finished my hair straightening, because the task seemed too unbearable.  We got ready and we went to the mortuary.

I sat in a chair at the viewing.  We had our children there and only siblings and grandparents.  I didn't move until right before they closed the casket.  I kissed him once more and told him goodbye.  It was then my strong Christian, who had cried very little, wept openly in front of our families.  He said goodbye aloud and he bore the task of helping to seal our baby into his tiny casket.

We loaded up and went to the cemetery that was within walking distance, but I was in no condition to walk it.

Christian and I walked our living children up to where many family and friends were awaiting us.  I hugged them all.  I was grateful for each of them.  I didn't even know how to express what their presence meant.  Each hug felt like power to keep me from falling to pieces.

Christian took that tiny casket and carried it lovingly to the place designated for his graveside service.  It was a good service.  Emmy was restless and was given Lifesavers to keep her from wiggling off my lap.

When it was over and I had hugged, taken pictures, and everyone had left Christian and I stood there alone.  The men that would place Declan's casket into the ground came up to us.  They were young, probably in their early twenties.  They offered to let us place him into the ground.  Christian answered before I even thought about it.  Of course we would.

I lifted the casket, it wasn't heavy, but I couldn't lift it alone.  One of the guys mainly held it and I was pretty much just touching it.  Christian got into the grave in his suit and placed his casket down.  The guys helping had to pull Christian out.  I dropped a red rose onto the casket and then turned away.

I didn't watch or look back when they covered it, which they respectfully waited until we were gone.  When I came back it was just a mess of dirt and yellow pedals Emmy had spread from a plant a friend from high school had brought.

I placed another rose on the grave.  I had done it.  I had done what I felt I couldn't do.  He was buried.  I had made it through.  I was still alive.  How, I didn't know.

I sat down that night and wrote to Declan in the journal I thought I would give to him one day.  (Each of my children get journals that I begin before they are born.)  I had not written in his since he died.  I bore my heart to the journal.  I missed him.  There was nothing left to look forward to.  The funeral was over.  I didn't have anymore interaction.  Now the longing and waiting began.

Six years have passed.  I sat in this same chair in my mother-in-law's home and wrote my first journal entry to him after he had died.  Six years I have missed a son I never got to watch grow.  Six years I have decorated a grave instead of singing, "Happy Birthday!"  Six years of love I haven't been able to give.

This birthday hit hard.  It was the first time I was without Christian on his birthday.  It was the first time I was alone with my kids just clueless how to make it a fun day as it has usually been the last few years.

I didn't expect it.  6?  Why 6?  Was it because he would have started school this year?  Was it because my youngest would finally be alone with me this year...but instead he has never known anything else?  Why 6?

I talked to a friend who lost her baby son 30+ years ago.  She still cries on his birthday.  She still misses him like it happened yesterday.  In so many ways I feel I am an 80 old woman.  These 6 years have felt like 60.  Most days I feel almost bad that life has moved on and I don't cry like I used to, but then it hits and I am almost knocked over by the concussion.  It comes in unexpected ways.  I'm not sure what is worse...not knowing when it will hit or always feeling the pain.  I am starting to realize that 6, 10, 15, 20...it isn't going to get easier.

As we went to Declan's grave today, Ollie touched Declan's stone and said, "Miss you!"  I'd like to think he meant it.  I wonder if he was just mimicking me.  But either way it was amazing!  Ollie is the same age Emmy was when Declan died.  I find it strange how a 2 year old could possibly understand the grieving of their mother...but I have found my biggest solace has been from 2 year olds.

I am very grateful for this time to reflect on Declan's life.  I am not always able to be around others or function to my most capable level, but I like the time I get to take to mourn, celebrate, and just think about Declan and what he has meant to me.

I'm not sure how I will react next year.  I am sure it will take me by surprise as it always seems to at unexpected times.  Maybe someday I will anticipate better, but I doubt it.

September...

I have been without a computer for some time now.  As much fun as it is to try to blog on my phone...I didn't bother.

I am now in the month that has become something special.  I find myself reliving those weeks before Declan arrived in my life.  I see that pregnant woman so done with the scalding, summer heat.

I was not my best self.

I reprimanded myself for months afterward.

Why didn't I enjoy him more?!

Why didn't I love being pregnant?!

On and on I went.

I realized there was no way to know.  How was I to know that my life was going to obliterated?  Even now I find myself with the words, "You know better."

And I do.

I know first hand what life looks like when you are standing in a place you have never stood and look back, at what was once you beautiful life, to see it splintered all over the floor.  However, I have to remind myself, often, I am only human.  I do have this different understanding of life and how quickly it can turn.  I try to remember each day I want no regrets.

But that is hard!  

And let's be honest...exhausting!

I have moments I can fully embrace it.  I can feel myself leave the ridiculousness of this life and focus on what is real and lasting.

But it doesn't last as long as I would prefer.  I have gotten impatient with myself.

This year I have been through more challenges and I had to reevaluated my life.  I suddenly saw myself differently.  What I have to remember is I'm still me.  Through all the nonsense...I'm still here.  I have been broken, beaten down, drug through the recesses of depressed hell, and stretched until I screamed out in pain.  I reemerged different...no one can escape without changing one way or another...but I am still me.  I still love writing.  I still love reading.  I love photography.  I love my kids.  I still have my green eyes...even though the weight I have gained and the stress left deep lines have changed my appearance...I'm still me.  I still allow myself to feel, love, and forgive.  I haven't shut down.  I traversed the hellish places so I could put them behind me.  I took the long, exhausting journey because it was necessary.  I only know how to brace for impact and then let those water engulf me.  I scramble with everything I have and when I feel I have nothing left sometimes it felt a ten foot wave would crash over me.  I would scream out only to feel it was swallowed in the suffocating water.  It was then I knew I could no longer do it alone.  I wasn't even meant to.  I was given something that would require help.  I could do it...but not alone.

The crushing fear would suddenly dissipate and the warm Son's rays would hold me safe.  I was still in the water.  The reality of what I was dealing with was not gone, but it was a task I could undergo.  What was minutes before going to pound me into dust, was replaced with a lovely wave licking at my face.  I could do this.  I could live life knowing what I know.  I can make it through this...and keep my sanity.  I was overcome with how far I had come.

If I could express the last year in one would it would be:  Faith.  My faith specifically.  I honestly know it was there.  There were points in my life it was more than necessary.  But this last year I feel has been the year that Faith was put to the test.  I didn't want the test...to be honest.  I childishly felt I had had enough with losing Declan.  I wanted to bit a break.  I don't why I thought I had earned some leave from life and all it's struggles.

But I did.

Then Christian lost his job.  I had slipped into dark places.  I let fear take hold of me.  When I finally clawed out of the abyss, I was suddenly looking at another.

"Are you kidding me?!"  I honestly screamed aloud.

I sunk onto my floor and cried like a little child.

"What more do you want from me?!  Do you think I can do anything?!"  I cried out in utter confusion.

When I left the hospital without Declan, I honestly thought that would be the hardest thing I would go through; and up until now, and many ways, it was.

But I wasn't done learning because I went through something so hard.


I went running today.  I haven't been running consistently since right after Declan died.  It felt good to pound the pavement.  I remembered the absolute need for running almost as much as oxygen.  I needed to run.  I went running on the day I was cleared for exercise after my c-section.  I was in so much pain.  I wrapped my binding brace tight and it still hurt.  But I had to move.  I would jump out of skin if I didn't.

Today as I did wind sprints I pushed my body hard.  I'm by no means in fabulous shape.  But I thought of my broken self and sprinting wasn't even an option.  I shuffled in a glorified speed walk for only 7 minutes.  When I feel I can't do something physically I remember that day.  The broken, grieving mom who put on her sneakers and went running; even though she had an emergency c-section only 6 weeks before.  She had a fight that I didn't even know existed.  With tears streaming down her cheeks, she painfully placed one foot in front of the other, envisioning her angel son standing beside her as she did the most miraculous thing she had ever attempted.  She had hated running her whole life.  She had, once upon a time, a runner's body, but the mental stamina of a gnat.  Here she was, no longer the skinny, teenager she once was, running what felt like her 7 minute marathon.  She went on to run 5ks and 10ks.  She didn't get her half marathon achieved, but what she did was far above what she felt she could do.

The person I became after Declan died, saved the girl who slipped into an almost unconquerable depression later.  I will always be grateful for Declan for being in my life and showing me a different life than I would have normally had.

I am learning to relish the small victories...even if they seem small to others.

I am determined to stop being so hard on myself.  I slip up a lot.  But this year I have tried to fully appreciate the person I am...and the person I will be.  It isn't easy for me...in fact it goes against my self-deprecating ways that are so ingrained.

But as I told my son this week.  "We just need to keep trying.  Even if you mess up every day...never give up.  We will conquer the hard things."

I know I can stop punishing myself for not being perfect.

I can keep going.

I found a bracelet I love and wear it to remind myself:  "Never, never, never Give up!"

I am determined to make that be my life's goal.  When I can look back on my life I can see:  I went through the challenges and never gave up...even though I wanted to many, many times.