- Tuesday, April 28, 2015
- 0 Thank You For Visiting
Items of note from our weekend:
 |
| Eggs |
 |
| I will always hold your hand |
 |
| Hard Work |
 |
| My daughter's house |
 |
| I can do it myself |
A Weekend Update.
A Photo journal entry on what we did this weekend.
Sometimes we forget to find {JOY} in the mundane events of our lives.
When you have suffered devastating loss- of any type- you appreciate small moments with a new perspective.
I would love to see things from your perspective today-
What did you do this weekend?
Please share any photos of you and yours enjoying the weekend on our Facebook page.
- Monday, April 27, 2015
- 0 Thank You For Visiting
Today we will be sharing a special organization which helped us during our time with Beatrix-
Sufficient Grace Ministries provides birth support, memory boxes, and photography for families facing pregnancy and neonatal loss.
We would love to have some donations made in Beatrix's name over the course of the next week.
{It's a completely selfish want... but to know her name was on that donation form would be an affirmation that she was here and she is missed.}
Our favorite item from SGM is our sweet Bea Bear.
These bears are given to families so that they have something to hold tight to when they are leaving the hospital, and sometimes for cuddling when needing that connection at home:
Our Bea bear was immediately taken possession of by this guy, and for the first two years after our Beatrix died, he wouldn't sleep without her.
There are a number of items which SGM provides for families suffering miscarriage and neonatal loss. If you know someone who may need this type of support HERE is where they can request information.
This organization is one of the best for families that we have come across. You will be helping someone greatly by donating to this effort.
Thank You!
Sufficient Grace Ministries provides birth support, memory boxes, and photography for families facing pregnancy and neonatal loss.
We would love to have some donations made in Beatrix's name over the course of the next week.
{It's a completely selfish want... but to know her name was on that donation form would be an affirmation that she was here and she is missed.}
Our favorite item from SGM is our sweet Bea Bear.
These bears are given to families so that they have something to hold tight to when they are leaving the hospital, and sometimes for cuddling when needing that connection at home:
Our Bea bear was immediately taken possession of by this guy, and for the first two years after our Beatrix died, he wouldn't sleep without her.
There are a number of items which SGM provides for families suffering miscarriage and neonatal loss. If you know someone who may need this type of support HERE is where they can request information.
This organization is one of the best for families that we have come across. You will be helping someone greatly by donating to this effort.
Thank You!
- Saturday, April 25, 2015
- 0 Thank You For Visiting
Pro-life post: not related to loss, or carrying to term.
(Just to let anyone who reads for those reasons, know)
Over the last week, Fr. Frank Pavone has created quite an uproar in the "pro-life" community with his support of Montana HB 479. This bill will make it mandatory that women are offered anesthetic for their unborn children, before receiving a second-trimester abortion.
(Just to let anyone who reads for those reasons, know)
Over the last week, Fr. Frank Pavone has created quite an uproar in the "pro-life" community with his support of Montana HB 479. This bill will make it mandatory that women are offered anesthetic for their unborn children, before receiving a second-trimester abortion.
I am going to be writing more on this over the next few days, but until then, I wanted to share Save the 1 writer, Rebecca Keissling's, post on the legal implications of this legislation.
My writings will be on a more personal note, as I see this type of bill to be highly discriminatory of babies like my Beatrix, who are the primary targets of legal, late term abortion.
Please read here, if you are of a pro-life inclination, about why this type of bill is a wolf in sheep's clothing, and has nothing to do with being humane.
- Thursday, April 23, 2015
- 0 Thank You For Visiting
This
one was a little difficult. Much more difficult than "Rest".
Wishes can be schmarmy if you aren't careful. I work very hard to write posts
that don't sound schmarmy. I hope that I've succeeded here.
Wish
is a word that extends itself to many more ideas.
I
see wish and I immediately think "Hope".
I
think "Joy".
Wish
implies something otherworldly in our midst. Clouds and dandelions and the
color blue. Laughter and summertime.
Wish
seems to give without asking for anything in return. It suddenly turns up
through no work of your own, and it gives you things that are beyond your
wildest dreams.
When
people wish, they generally wish big. They wish people back to life and they
wish mansions on hills... or maybe they wish a vacation, time alone with the
person they love.
But
what about the "little wishers" -- all of those people who wish for
things like a good day tomorrow, or a day free of unkindness?
What
about the "necessity wishers" -- The people who just wish to have
enough to feed their children or to pay their rent?
What
about the "lonely wishers” -- who want someone to sit with them and let
them know they aren't alone?
When
we think of wishes, we think of magic. We think of
wishing-for-more-wishes.
I
meditated on the word “wish” for two days. I thought about what I could write.
About
how I wish my daughter was still alive.
About
how I wish that my best childhood friend and I were on speaking terms again
(baby loss = 30+ years of friendship down the drain… but that’s a story for
another day.)
But
I began thinking that maybe the focus of this shouldn’t be on me and my
wishes.
And
maybe wishes aren't otherworldly. Maybe they do ask for something in return.
What if I were to put a little elbow grease into the idea of wishing?
Or,
maybe I can give away my wishes. I can make someone else’s wishes come true.
Maybe
I can be someone’s dandelion seed.
Maybe
I can start working through the little things. I can’t send someone on a trip,
or reunite long-lost lovers, but what can I do? What wishes can I
"grant"?
The
word "wish" had a soft feeling to it. It rolls out of your mouth
almost like a whisper.
The
soft feeling of the word wish belies the possibilities contained in the actual
word.
The
word wish isn't just about joy or hope- it's about possibility, and possibility
is almost always open to the choices we make. (Almost because
everyone has life circumstances which are out of their control).
In
my hands is the possibility to grant wishes. I don't mean that in a
metaphysical way. I mean that I can open the door to possibilities that may
make other people's {modest} wishes come true.
Think
about the possibilities here.
We
work so hard thinking that we should be the recipients of wish granting- but
isn't it always better when we have given to others?
I
think that I could maybe give someone a little bit of my help, if they are
"necessity wishers".
A
little bit of my ability to some "small wishers".
And
most importantly, a little bit of my time for some "lonely wishers".
Who
wouldn't want to let that genie out of a bottle?
- Wednesday, April 22, 2015
- 4 Thank You For Visiting
Items of note from our weekend:
A Weekend Update.
A Photo journal entry on what we did this weekend.
Sometimes we forget to find {JOY} in the mundane events of our lives.
When you have suffered devastating loss- of any type- you appreciate small moments with a new perspective.
I would love to see things from your perspective today-
What did you do this weekend?
Please share any photos of you and yours enjoying the weekend on our Facebook page.
- Monday, April 20, 2015
- 2 Thank You For Visiting
This
post is for a writing challenge on the word "Rest". Every Tuesday there's a new word challenge. You can join HERE.
I also wrote it after listening to a few hours of poetry slams, while cleaning house, so you'll have to forgive the grammar breaks and run on sentences..... This writing is evidence that sometimes even I think that I'm a superstar.
Sometimes I am all activity.
Heart pumping, mind racing, I take names and break hearts.
I don't mean the romantic type of heart breaking, I mean that I have moments where all I want is to feel her near, and so I pound her name into the air with a fist.
I say her name and watch people's reactions.
And then I say her name again because I am so flushed with movement that I don't care that her memory hurts.
I am all tempest and raging sea on those days. I want to shake people and say, "she existed."
I throw her memories out into the wind and those memories become a tornado -- destroying everything in its wake because she reminds people of their fragility and the fact that
everybody
dies.
Even a small baby whose life had just begun.
In between those days, where I so causally pull people away from their mundane existences; where everyone lives and life on TV is as dramatic as it gets, I find long stretches of time which most people would call "being o.k."
I could call them "rest" as in, the resting of my brain from constant second guessing.
Rest from my double-crossing heart, which so flippantly disregarded my frustration when I lost her... And just kept beating.
Rest from thinking of her tiny palms, covered over by her curling fingers with their impossibly small nails.
Rest from the parts of me which still feel the weight of her in my body. In my arms.
I don't notice when the rest begins -- I just notice that my cheeks hurt from too much smiling and the house is organized and everyone slouches because they are relaxed around me.
I notice my resting state in the dust that settles over her things.
The photo album that isn't opened.
I notice my rest when all I'm thinking of isn't how I was cheated of my firstborn daughter.
My resting state is at odds with the frantic energy that courses through me when I am missing her. Because missing her has become a state of being, not just a feeling.
I can't be missing and resting at the same time.
Missing has become a verb that gathers steam over the course of weeks and then drops like a hydrogen bomb over my heart.
Rest is that in between where I breathe more easily and life becomes bearable and life without her becomes bearable and I am not
Counting
Each
Day
Until I see her again.
Rest is always welcome -- as is missing -- it offers some respite to the self-doubt.
Rest.
Rest comes and I see the promise in all of its meaning and I'm overwhelmed with gratitude and sometimes I want to stay in that resting state.
Sometimes.
It seems as if it could be a lovely space if I could just stay there for an extended period of time.... But if I stay resting I am never missing, and the passion of my emotion towards that tiny girl is just one part of the big puzzle that makes me who I am.
I value the rest in me. That part which can sit and watch my other children play without seeing a phantom girl running along with them.
I value the fact that my restful state is the one which I most often find myself living in.
But giving up the whirlwind of missing would be like giving up the sun. The memory of her makes me shine brighter.
In that state colors become brighter, scents become more pungent, and every touch crackles with electricity.
This missing -- it's a gift.
This resting -- it's a gift.
Out of its proper proportion, either one would sink me.
I also wrote it after listening to a few hours of poetry slams, while cleaning house, so you'll have to forgive the grammar breaks and run on sentences..... This writing is evidence that sometimes even I think that I'm a superstar.
Sometimes I am all activity.
Heart pumping, mind racing, I take names and break hearts.
I don't mean the romantic type of heart breaking, I mean that I have moments where all I want is to feel her near, and so I pound her name into the air with a fist.
I say her name and watch people's reactions.
And then I say her name again because I am so flushed with movement that I don't care that her memory hurts.
I am all tempest and raging sea on those days. I want to shake people and say, "she existed."
I throw her memories out into the wind and those memories become a tornado -- destroying everything in its wake because she reminds people of their fragility and the fact that
everybody
dies.
Even a small baby whose life had just begun.
In between those days, where I so causally pull people away from their mundane existences; where everyone lives and life on TV is as dramatic as it gets, I find long stretches of time which most people would call "being o.k."
I could call them "rest" as in, the resting of my brain from constant second guessing.
Rest from my double-crossing heart, which so flippantly disregarded my frustration when I lost her... And just kept beating.
Rest from thinking of her tiny palms, covered over by her curling fingers with their impossibly small nails.
Rest from the parts of me which still feel the weight of her in my body. In my arms.
I don't notice when the rest begins -- I just notice that my cheeks hurt from too much smiling and the house is organized and everyone slouches because they are relaxed around me.
I notice my resting state in the dust that settles over her things.
The photo album that isn't opened.
I notice my rest when all I'm thinking of isn't how I was cheated of my firstborn daughter.
My resting state is at odds with the frantic energy that courses through me when I am missing her. Because missing her has become a state of being, not just a feeling.
I can't be missing and resting at the same time.
Missing has become a verb that gathers steam over the course of weeks and then drops like a hydrogen bomb over my heart.
Rest is that in between where I breathe more easily and life becomes bearable and life without her becomes bearable and I am not
Counting
Each
Day
Until I see her again.
Rest is always welcome -- as is missing -- it offers some respite to the self-doubt.
Rest.
Rest comes and I see the promise in all of its meaning and I'm overwhelmed with gratitude and sometimes I want to stay in that resting state.
Sometimes.
It seems as if it could be a lovely space if I could just stay there for an extended period of time.... But if I stay resting I am never missing, and the passion of my emotion towards that tiny girl is just one part of the big puzzle that makes me who I am.
I value the rest in me. That part which can sit and watch my other children play without seeing a phantom girl running along with them.
I value the fact that my restful state is the one which I most often find myself living in.
But giving up the whirlwind of missing would be like giving up the sun. The memory of her makes me shine brighter.
In that state colors become brighter, scents become more pungent, and every touch crackles with electricity.
This missing -- it's a gift.
This resting -- it's a gift.
Out of its proper proportion, either one would sink me.
- Friday, April 17, 2015
- 4 Thank You For Visiting
