I don't know what happened.
Actually, I know exactly what happened, but I didn't really see this sneaking up on me the way I feel it did.
Over the past week or so, lots of things which had been accumulating in my heart built up and built up...and exploded. On Friday, I began unraveling.
Picture a woven grass mat, in the shape of yours truly. Someone was slowly removing the horizontal threads, one by one, beginning at the very top, and getting as far as somewhere around my heart. With the stabilizing threads gone, the vertical ones began peeling away like fine layers of tissue paper....and I began to fall apart.
It's not a midlife crisis, because I'm not at midlife yet. (I hope I'm not at midlife yet!) It's not a complete mental breakdown, because I'm pretty sure I don't need a psych ward just yet. I don't feel suicidal or homicidal, thanks be to God. It's not the people around me who are at the core of this--it's me. It's all internal. I just really need to sort it out inside.
I'm pretty sure this is exactly what's meant by postpartum depression.
I got to nearly four months out from my Snuggle Bug's birth, and I just lost it. My composure, that is.
In my heart: Losing Gabriel, and not fully grieving. My mom not being present to me pretty much at all, ever, even through losing one baby and having another. My dear friend losing her seven-week-old son when my sweet baby was but three days old, and the complete and total shock, grief, panic and anxiety which ensued (and continues). The big, fat drop in hormones following the first three months of baby-moon. My Grandma not doing so well. The complete and utter dysfunction of my birth family.
So on Friday, I called my Knight in Shining Armor, My Darling. He rushed to my rescue, good man that he is, and whisked me to my midwife's house. (The house in question was purchased as a health care facility right smack in the middle of the Amish area north of here.) I was seen by the good doctor who lives in residence on Friday, and then by the counselor who is on site on Saturday. Each began her session with me with prayer...a very good start! The doctor began by letting me know that it is not she who heals, but the Lord who provides healing.
The medication I'm now on will, God willing, help me level things out and begin to heal. I have a lot of work to do, and a lot of things to sort out in my heart and mind. I'm clinging to Philippians 4:6-7 and waiting quietly, if not patiently, for Him to work this for good, as He promises He will with all things.
In His time, I know that He will reveal to me the purpose He has for this dark time. For now, I am squinting in my mind's eye, trying to keep His light in focus.
Showing posts with label Loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Loss. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Saturday, December 6, 2008
"...and I'll fall asleep counting my blessings..."
I love the move "White Christmas." Love it. I remember waiting for it to come on every year as a child, and practically holding my breath until Judy and Betty appeared at the end in the gorgeous red satin dresses with the white fur trim. And the little ballerina girls would come out from the sides of the stage on their tippy toes and dance like little fairies, and then ever-so-delicately perch on the knees of the adoring little boys who raised their soprano voices in cherubic harmony.
Seriously--I am not joking--I would find a curtain, a table cloth, a bath towel...anything that could resemble a skirt if safety pinned around the waist, and dance around for the next several days, singing the theme song......"IIIIIIIIIIIII'm dreaming of a whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite (a white) Christmas........
And now I have the movie on DVD. I try not to watch it until at least Advent, but I almost always break down around mid-November and just have to watch it. Can you blame me? It's the one pre-season indulgence I allow myself, for Pete's sake. If that's the worst I can do, I think I'll be ok.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I spoke with My Wonderful friend on Thursday....the Dear Friend who is missing her Dear Baby. She asked me how my little Snuggle Bug is doing. She sounded not sad--well maybe a little sad, but more wistful. I said that The Bug is doing very well....she's starting to fill out and look chubby around the neck and wrists.....and My Friend said to me, "Cherish it, please. Just love her and kiss her and look at her, and cherish her."
And I do.
And it didn't really strike me how deeply she meant that until we were gathered together last night after the First Friday events: our family, our three friends K., T., and V. and their families (we were at V.'s home) and three of our good priests, Frs. E., B., and L. We were talking after supper, and V. mentioned that she had spoken with Our Dear Friend. Our Friend mentioned that she just really misses holding her Little One and that his memory is fading so quickly and it was taking her by surprise.
And then I began to remember how it was after my dad died, and how I looked at his picture as often as I could so that I could see his face. And I plugged in the videos that we had taken regularly so that I could hear his voice. But there was nothing that could bring back how it felt to hold his hand or feel his arms around me in a hug. I could smell a shirt, but it wasn't truly him--it was the smell of the laundry. It scared me silly, because I couldn't believe how quickly I was beginning to forget him.
I remember buying tiles to fill out the floor in front of the fireplace, and how I knew I had found The Tile I Wanted when I ran my hand across it and it faintly felt like his hand. (And yes, I know how odd that sounds.) I felt like a child who sees a grown up for a while, and then not for a long time...and the next time you see that person they're so much different than how you remember them. I just wanted to always remember him just the way he was, and it was fading so rapidly.
My heart aches with such a raw wound for my friend, although I have the absolute luxury of being witness to her grief rather than being at the core of it. And while I know that right now, at the onset of her true grieving, her pain is growing steadily, mine is coasting and becoming familiar. And it just doesn't seem fair.
And still she ministers to everyone else with such love and wisdom and passion that she just continues to inspire everyone she knows. It's not always comfortable: her statement to V. was something like, "It was a SACRIFICE for us to have to give up our son. People have been asking what they can do to help us...they can sacrifice to make it to First Friday Vigil and spend time in prayer together."
We are on day 7 of our Rosary Novena for this good family. We have been praying for them each night, and last night it was with 20 children, 4 couples and 3 dear priests. We all sat together and prayed the Rosary for our friends. Somehow it didn't feel like the sacrifice that we ought to be making, but I know that God will use it for His purposes anyway.
But now, tonight, sitting by my beautiful baby's cradle, I find it all too easy to do as my friend exhorted me to do. I am cherishing, kissing, gazing upon my lovely child, and it is becoming easier, too, to allow the reality of this blessing sink in.
I will see my Dear Friend tomorrow at Mass. I know that she will come to me and we will hug. She will look at my baby and smile, and maybe cry a little. She'll touch her head and maybe kiss her a little, and her heart will just pour out the love that consumes her. And then she will remind me to cherish my beautiful children and to be thankful for every little blessing.
And I will.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Please pray in this Season of Waiting for those who wait in Hope: for healing, for forgiveness, for love, for new life, and for new life in Him, that they may rejoice in God's Timing as He remains faithful to those who remain steadfast in their faith in Him.
Please pray for those in need, whether it be the need for food or shelter, for a job, for acceptance, for a softer heart, for Jesus in their lives, for the Sacraments--that they may accept the prudence of God's Timing.
Please also pray for all those who wait, trusting in God's Perfect Timing for their families, that their hearts would be blessed for being so open to His will for them.
And please continue to pray for My Dear Friends, who have been an amazing example of accepting God's Timing. Tonight marks two weeks since their infant son's death...and not quite one week since it's just been Their Family (all the visitors have gone back home)...and they are finally beginning to grieve here and there. Please pray for them to just trust God to catch them in His loving arms when they fall apart. Please especially pray for the Daddy and the sons in this family.
A continued Blessed Advent to all of you.....
Seriously--I am not joking--I would find a curtain, a table cloth, a bath towel...anything that could resemble a skirt if safety pinned around the waist, and dance around for the next several days, singing the theme song......"IIIIIIIIIIIII'm dreaming of a whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite (a white) Christmas........
And now I have the movie on DVD. I try not to watch it until at least Advent, but I almost always break down around mid-November and just have to watch it. Can you blame me? It's the one pre-season indulgence I allow myself, for Pete's sake. If that's the worst I can do, I think I'll be ok.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I spoke with My Wonderful friend on Thursday....the Dear Friend who is missing her Dear Baby. She asked me how my little Snuggle Bug is doing. She sounded not sad--well maybe a little sad, but more wistful. I said that The Bug is doing very well....she's starting to fill out and look chubby around the neck and wrists.....and My Friend said to me, "Cherish it, please. Just love her and kiss her and look at her, and cherish her."
And I do.
And it didn't really strike me how deeply she meant that until we were gathered together last night after the First Friday events: our family, our three friends K., T., and V. and their families (we were at V.'s home) and three of our good priests, Frs. E., B., and L. We were talking after supper, and V. mentioned that she had spoken with Our Dear Friend. Our Friend mentioned that she just really misses holding her Little One and that his memory is fading so quickly and it was taking her by surprise.
And then I began to remember how it was after my dad died, and how I looked at his picture as often as I could so that I could see his face. And I plugged in the videos that we had taken regularly so that I could hear his voice. But there was nothing that could bring back how it felt to hold his hand or feel his arms around me in a hug. I could smell a shirt, but it wasn't truly him--it was the smell of the laundry. It scared me silly, because I couldn't believe how quickly I was beginning to forget him.
I remember buying tiles to fill out the floor in front of the fireplace, and how I knew I had found The Tile I Wanted when I ran my hand across it and it faintly felt like his hand. (And yes, I know how odd that sounds.) I felt like a child who sees a grown up for a while, and then not for a long time...and the next time you see that person they're so much different than how you remember them. I just wanted to always remember him just the way he was, and it was fading so rapidly.
My heart aches with such a raw wound for my friend, although I have the absolute luxury of being witness to her grief rather than being at the core of it. And while I know that right now, at the onset of her true grieving, her pain is growing steadily, mine is coasting and becoming familiar. And it just doesn't seem fair.
And still she ministers to everyone else with such love and wisdom and passion that she just continues to inspire everyone she knows. It's not always comfortable: her statement to V. was something like, "It was a SACRIFICE for us to have to give up our son. People have been asking what they can do to help us...they can sacrifice to make it to First Friday Vigil and spend time in prayer together."
We are on day 7 of our Rosary Novena for this good family. We have been praying for them each night, and last night it was with 20 children, 4 couples and 3 dear priests. We all sat together and prayed the Rosary for our friends. Somehow it didn't feel like the sacrifice that we ought to be making, but I know that God will use it for His purposes anyway.
But now, tonight, sitting by my beautiful baby's cradle, I find it all too easy to do as my friend exhorted me to do. I am cherishing, kissing, gazing upon my lovely child, and it is becoming easier, too, to allow the reality of this blessing sink in.
I will see my Dear Friend tomorrow at Mass. I know that she will come to me and we will hug. She will look at my baby and smile, and maybe cry a little. She'll touch her head and maybe kiss her a little, and her heart will just pour out the love that consumes her. And then she will remind me to cherish my beautiful children and to be thankful for every little blessing.
And I will.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Please pray in this Season of Waiting for those who wait in Hope: for healing, for forgiveness, for love, for new life, and for new life in Him, that they may rejoice in God's Timing as He remains faithful to those who remain steadfast in their faith in Him.
Please pray for those in need, whether it be the need for food or shelter, for a job, for acceptance, for a softer heart, for Jesus in their lives, for the Sacraments--that they may accept the prudence of God's Timing.
Please also pray for all those who wait, trusting in God's Perfect Timing for their families, that their hearts would be blessed for being so open to His will for them.
And please continue to pray for My Dear Friends, who have been an amazing example of accepting God's Timing. Tonight marks two weeks since their infant son's death...and not quite one week since it's just been Their Family (all the visitors have gone back home)...and they are finally beginning to grieve here and there. Please pray for them to just trust God to catch them in His loving arms when they fall apart. Please especially pray for the Daddy and the sons in this family.
A continued Blessed Advent to all of you.....
Sunday, November 30, 2008
The Story of My Snuggle Bug
I know it's been a while....."Circumstances alter cases," as Fr. Tim would say. It's been a flurry of activity around here, and no two ways about it. First the birth of my Sweet Little Pumpkin, then a death and funeral, then Thanksgiving, and here it's already Eleven Days Since My Snuggle Bug Arrived.
And so.....the story you've all been waiting for:
The Birth of my Little Pumpkin!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Two weeks ago, I knew that labor was going. It was Sunday afternoon, and after Mass we made a stop to pick up a few last-minute items (new shoes for two of the kiddos, a couple of other things), and I Just Knew that we had to come home. It was the same feeling I had when labor began for the Pickle.
But it was not to be that day! Eventually things petered out, but not before we had our midwives, Chris and Billie, and Pumpkin's Godmother T. here with us. They all ended up spending the night with us and then going home Monday morning.....without having witnessed a birth.
Rats.
My Darling stayed home on Monday. I don't know what other choice he really had; neither of us had any sleep at all Sunday night, of course, so we two mostly rested on Monday. Nothing really happened labor-wise, but since Chris had brought the birth pool, I was able to spend some time just relaxing in the water. That was heavenly (!) and it allowed me to really relax my body, which I desperately needed to do.
Tuesday late afternoon we started up again. Not much really happened during the day, but that evening things got a little more active.
Until the pool broke.
(Well...sort of.) The pool itself is constructed of a rigid foam material, not unlike the mats you can buy for a layer of insulation between a sleeping bag and the cold ground. There is a vinyl liner that goes all the way around it like a sleeve--covers the bottom, comes up around the inside edges and to the floor on the outside like an apron. Then we put another layer of clear plastic inside it as Our Own Personal Liner. There's a rope that then goes around the edges to anchor the plastic and to put tension around the pool and hold it together. The only problem was.....the rope snapped.
Enter that fabulous layer of vinyl, which (along with me, CONTRACTING, for Pete's sake!) held the pool together while My Darling raced out to the garage to grab a nylon ratchet strap (like you use to hold down cargo on top of the car on a trailer) to put in the rope's stead. (Now mind you, we laugh hysterically when we think back about this or tell the tale to others...at the moment, I was panicking, I assure you! But it really was such a comedy of errors--I only wish we'd had a camera set up to take in this scene!)
That's all fine and good, you think, but not only did we realize then that the liner had a tear in it (which we discovered because My Darling's knees were then getting wet...but BEFORE the carpet got wet, thanks be to God!)--so then we had to empty the pool, re-line it with different plastic (and we were out of clear, so we had to use depressing black!) and then refill it--but it was also enough excitement, thankyouverymuch, that labor STOPPED.
S. T. O. P. P. E. D.
Rats again.
Only to pick up again Wednesday morning--and this time, it stuck around to see what was what!
At last!
And while I was rather certain that my water had broken on Sunday afternoon, there was no doubt at all on Wednesday morning at about 10:45. I felt the tell-tale pop, and that pretty well gave it away.
Enter labor. Took off it's coat. Stayed a while.
I must apologize in advance--if I heard this from someone else rather than having it happen to me, I'd feel cheated. But this really is what happened.
Labor was a joy! I had intense contractions, but not many contractions. They were just effective is all. And the surprise was that they didn't hurt. At. All. They were work, yes, but not painful in the least.
So I labored about it. We called the midwives and T., and my friend V. (who was to be my doula). T. and V. were delayed for various family reasons, and by the time they got there, I was at nearly done, for Pete's sake...and the contractions had been good, but I still had some work ahead of me to do. Chris suggested that I get onto my hands and knees with my rump up in the air and my face in the mattress. I did. The contractions STOPPED. So we waited a while, told some jokes, talked about the weather (balmy, at 41 degrees--compared to seventeen below zero when My Monkey was born!), and after a bit V. asked me if I wanted her to use some pressure points.
Hit me! I gave her my hand and she went to work. And it Worked! More contractions, more work, but still no pain. And there was time in between these contractions. At one point I said, "We have enough time in between these things to go out to eat!" (Even at a place with ssslllllllloooooooooooooooowwwwww service, like AppleBees!) We laughed. We joked some more.
Then Chris checked me. I had just a little way to go, but still with some hard work to get done.
At this point, it was about 5:00, and T. and V. Just Knew...and they took the kids and went to McDonald's.
Now the pain.
But it was only for 20 minutes, and then I was able to get into the water. I gave a couple of good pushes, and there was her head.....and it was that place that by all rights should burn like fire...and it didn't. I reached down and felt her silky little head, and I was just marveling at it! I could feel the top of her wrinkled up little forehead and the sweet softness of her brand new hair, and I just smiled and smiled and said, "Hello, Baby! I love you! You're so soft!" I couldn't have gotten the huge grin off of my face if you'd paid me!
And Chris said, "You know, you could push the rest of your baby out and actually hold him!" (Because this whole time, we were convinced [by heart rate numbers] that it was a boy!) And it was like I suddenly remembered that...Oh yeah, I'm here to do something, aren't I?! Well, so I did. I pushed the rest of her out with the next contraction (and as with the others, there were about 4 or 5 minutes between them!), and literally just as Chris was lifting my Little Pumpkin up out of the water and onto my chest, the kids walked in the door!
I just sat and loved on her for a few minutes and then T. said, "Well what do we have, for Pete's sake?!" I said, "I don't know, I haven't looked yet!"
And I looked......and she was Our Little Pumpkin! Our Snuggle Bug!! Her birth time was 5:57 PM...she weighed 7 pounds on the nose and was 20 1/2 inches tall.
Reepicheep cut the cord. Monkey kept gently saying (through his immense grin), "Pumpkin is here!" Pickle was quiet and looked away a lot. (Typical 10-year-old boy, I guess!) The Frog was enthralled, but quiet.
Physically, I've healed very well.
And I'm trying to let my heart immerse itself in the joy of this beautiful birth, while at the same time being so intensely sad for our very dear friends who very suddenly and unexpectedly lost their little seven-week-old baby boy just four short days after my Little Pumpkin was born. He was not sick; he was not injured--he just simply...stopped. This baby was the sixth child in their family, but the fourth little Saint in Heaven for them (they've suffered three miscarriages as well). Beginning tonight, our family (and several others) is praying a Rosary Novena with this dear family in mind, set to end on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception.
God has already allowed my Little Pumpkin to help begin healing the hearts of this dear couple. During the reception following his funeral Mass, they each held her--they asked to hold her. And God bless them, their faith is so strong that even Monsignor commented during the homily at the funeral that not once did he hear the questions that so many parents rightly ask, "Why us? Why our baby? Why our family? What kind of God does this?" No, their faith remains rock solid, because it is based on the Rock of Jesus Christ. They keep in mind that our children are not ours; they are His. It is a faith truly inspiring to all who know them, and it is a comfort to know that they have such solid ground. They will need it in the days and weeks to come.
Needless to say, it's been something of a roller coaster, both terrible and wonderful. I know full well that Satan does not want us to feel the joy of our blessings; rather he wants us to question our worthiness in God's eyes....and I do not intend to let him win. My humble prayer for myself is to stop allowing the fear of losing my own precious baby to override the joy of her birth.
Please pray, at this beginning of Advent, for all families who are suffering losses, that they may find hope in this beautiful time of year.
Pray also for the couples who want so much to bring children into the world and raise them up, and who find themselves in circumstances which make this dream difficult.
Pray for those who deny themselves of the warmth of the love of Christ, for whatever reason, that their hearts might be softened by the love of a Child.
And Rejoice! Praise the Lord that we have this lovely season of Advent to gladden our hearts as we anticipate the joy of The Birth!!
And so.....the story you've all been waiting for:
The Birth of my Little Pumpkin!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Two weeks ago, I knew that labor was going. It was Sunday afternoon, and after Mass we made a stop to pick up a few last-minute items (new shoes for two of the kiddos, a couple of other things), and I Just Knew that we had to come home. It was the same feeling I had when labor began for the Pickle.
But it was not to be that day! Eventually things petered out, but not before we had our midwives, Chris and Billie, and Pumpkin's Godmother T. here with us. They all ended up spending the night with us and then going home Monday morning.....without having witnessed a birth.
Rats.
My Darling stayed home on Monday. I don't know what other choice he really had; neither of us had any sleep at all Sunday night, of course, so we two mostly rested on Monday. Nothing really happened labor-wise, but since Chris had brought the birth pool, I was able to spend some time just relaxing in the water. That was heavenly (!) and it allowed me to really relax my body, which I desperately needed to do.
Tuesday late afternoon we started up again. Not much really happened during the day, but that evening things got a little more active.
Until the pool broke.
(Well...sort of.) The pool itself is constructed of a rigid foam material, not unlike the mats you can buy for a layer of insulation between a sleeping bag and the cold ground. There is a vinyl liner that goes all the way around it like a sleeve--covers the bottom, comes up around the inside edges and to the floor on the outside like an apron. Then we put another layer of clear plastic inside it as Our Own Personal Liner. There's a rope that then goes around the edges to anchor the plastic and to put tension around the pool and hold it together. The only problem was.....the rope snapped.
Enter that fabulous layer of vinyl, which (along with me, CONTRACTING, for Pete's sake!) held the pool together while My Darling raced out to the garage to grab a nylon ratchet strap (like you use to hold down cargo on top of the car on a trailer) to put in the rope's stead. (Now mind you, we laugh hysterically when we think back about this or tell the tale to others...at the moment, I was panicking, I assure you! But it really was such a comedy of errors--I only wish we'd had a camera set up to take in this scene!)
That's all fine and good, you think, but not only did we realize then that the liner had a tear in it (which we discovered because My Darling's knees were then getting wet...but BEFORE the carpet got wet, thanks be to God!)--so then we had to empty the pool, re-line it with different plastic (and we were out of clear, so we had to use depressing black!) and then refill it--but it was also enough excitement, thankyouverymuch, that labor STOPPED.
S. T. O. P. P. E. D.
Rats again.
Only to pick up again Wednesday morning--and this time, it stuck around to see what was what!
At last!
And while I was rather certain that my water had broken on Sunday afternoon, there was no doubt at all on Wednesday morning at about 10:45. I felt the tell-tale pop, and that pretty well gave it away.
Enter labor. Took off it's coat. Stayed a while.
I must apologize in advance--if I heard this from someone else rather than having it happen to me, I'd feel cheated. But this really is what happened.
Labor was a joy! I had intense contractions, but not many contractions. They were just effective is all. And the surprise was that they didn't hurt. At. All. They were work, yes, but not painful in the least.
So I labored about it. We called the midwives and T., and my friend V. (who was to be my doula). T. and V. were delayed for various family reasons, and by the time they got there, I was at nearly done, for Pete's sake...and the contractions had been good, but I still had some work ahead of me to do. Chris suggested that I get onto my hands and knees with my rump up in the air and my face in the mattress. I did. The contractions STOPPED. So we waited a while, told some jokes, talked about the weather (balmy, at 41 degrees--compared to seventeen below zero when My Monkey was born!), and after a bit V. asked me if I wanted her to use some pressure points.
Hit me! I gave her my hand and she went to work. And it Worked! More contractions, more work, but still no pain. And there was time in between these contractions. At one point I said, "We have enough time in between these things to go out to eat!" (Even at a place with ssslllllllloooooooooooooooowwwwww service, like AppleBees!) We laughed. We joked some more.
Then Chris checked me. I had just a little way to go, but still with some hard work to get done.
At this point, it was about 5:00, and T. and V. Just Knew...and they took the kids and went to McDonald's.
Now the pain.
But it was only for 20 minutes, and then I was able to get into the water. I gave a couple of good pushes, and there was her head.....and it was that place that by all rights should burn like fire...and it didn't. I reached down and felt her silky little head, and I was just marveling at it! I could feel the top of her wrinkled up little forehead and the sweet softness of her brand new hair, and I just smiled and smiled and said, "Hello, Baby! I love you! You're so soft!" I couldn't have gotten the huge grin off of my face if you'd paid me!
And Chris said, "You know, you could push the rest of your baby out and actually hold him!" (Because this whole time, we were convinced [by heart rate numbers] that it was a boy!) And it was like I suddenly remembered that...Oh yeah, I'm here to do something, aren't I?! Well, so I did. I pushed the rest of her out with the next contraction (and as with the others, there were about 4 or 5 minutes between them!), and literally just as Chris was lifting my Little Pumpkin up out of the water and onto my chest, the kids walked in the door!
I just sat and loved on her for a few minutes and then T. said, "Well what do we have, for Pete's sake?!" I said, "I don't know, I haven't looked yet!"
And I looked......and she was Our Little Pumpkin! Our Snuggle Bug!! Her birth time was 5:57 PM...she weighed 7 pounds on the nose and was 20 1/2 inches tall.
Reepicheep cut the cord. Monkey kept gently saying (through his immense grin), "Pumpkin is here!" Pickle was quiet and looked away a lot. (Typical 10-year-old boy, I guess!) The Frog was enthralled, but quiet.
Physically, I've healed very well.
And I'm trying to let my heart immerse itself in the joy of this beautiful birth, while at the same time being so intensely sad for our very dear friends who very suddenly and unexpectedly lost their little seven-week-old baby boy just four short days after my Little Pumpkin was born. He was not sick; he was not injured--he just simply...stopped. This baby was the sixth child in their family, but the fourth little Saint in Heaven for them (they've suffered three miscarriages as well). Beginning tonight, our family (and several others) is praying a Rosary Novena with this dear family in mind, set to end on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception.
God has already allowed my Little Pumpkin to help begin healing the hearts of this dear couple. During the reception following his funeral Mass, they each held her--they asked to hold her. And God bless them, their faith is so strong that even Monsignor commented during the homily at the funeral that not once did he hear the questions that so many parents rightly ask, "Why us? Why our baby? Why our family? What kind of God does this?" No, their faith remains rock solid, because it is based on the Rock of Jesus Christ. They keep in mind that our children are not ours; they are His. It is a faith truly inspiring to all who know them, and it is a comfort to know that they have such solid ground. They will need it in the days and weeks to come.
Needless to say, it's been something of a roller coaster, both terrible and wonderful. I know full well that Satan does not want us to feel the joy of our blessings; rather he wants us to question our worthiness in God's eyes....and I do not intend to let him win. My humble prayer for myself is to stop allowing the fear of losing my own precious baby to override the joy of her birth.
Please pray, at this beginning of Advent, for all families who are suffering losses, that they may find hope in this beautiful time of year.
Pray also for the couples who want so much to bring children into the world and raise them up, and who find themselves in circumstances which make this dream difficult.
Pray for those who deny themselves of the warmth of the love of Christ, for whatever reason, that their hearts might be softened by the love of a Child.
And Rejoice! Praise the Lord that we have this lovely season of Advent to gladden our hearts as we anticipate the joy of The Birth!!
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Hiatus? Moi??
Never. In need of one, perhaps, but not actually on one, for Pete's sake.
The past couple of weeks have been full.
First of all, I need to update my Dear Readers to let you know that J.'s mother did indeed fly to Jesus last Sunday morning. J. called me that afternoon, and we had a wonderful conversation, remembering her mom and all that she had been and meant to us--the first of many to come, I'm sure. She said that her mother's death was very peaceful, as the weeks preceding had been. The baby shower was held, and J.'s youngest brother was married to his Beloved in the hospital courtyard so that his mom could be present. They were all with her when Jesus called her Home, which is such a blessing....
I was devastated to miss the services on Tuesday night, and the reason for it fits in to my story a little later. I do know, though, that J.'s mom had specifically said, "Nothing dirgy. I want this to be a celebration!"--which is something that I can absolutely hear her saying! Another of my friends was there, and her note said that it was very touching, as I can only imagine it would have been.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Last Sunday, after returning home from Mass, I began to know that I should no longer bother myself with stairs. This is a double-edged sword, because although I am now closer to the loo, I am not so much as close to My Darling at night. This, as my Reepicheep would say, is a Big Fat Rats.
That evening, I sat out in the sun room and played cribbage with My Darling (who had the Monkey on his lap--two against one...I ask you, where is the fairness in that?), and the Frog, the Pickle and the Reepicheep opened up the love seat (the one from Grandma's house!) and proceeded to make it a bed fit for a princess. Or a queen. Or just a tired, rather cumbersome Mama, who really needs to sleep in a place closer to the loo!
When I came inside, it was to my feather bed having been placed on the mattress, and the down comforter draped over top. My favorite sheets had been lovingly tucked in, and my multitude of pillows had been plopped at the head. Although we had to do a little bit of adjusting and rearranging, I have been very comfortably ensconced upon my little nest for a week now. They even made a couple of cards, one of them saying, "I hope your time sleeping downstairs is fun!"---ah, the romantic notions of childhood! They see this as an extended slumber party for Mom. Aren't they sweet?
My Darling has taken up night time residence on the couch, just as he did when I carried the Monkey. I am sad that I cannot share his warmth each night; I never have slept well when we're not in the same bed, but at this stage of the game I don't sleep well anyway. The upside for him is that he no longer has to abide my constant shifting and mashing of pillows all night long--say nothing for the three or four trips to the loo. He, for once, is sleeping better than ever. And he does make it a point to snuggle with me for a bit each night, sometimes falling asleep next to me and making the move across the room when I make my first move to the powder room. He is a good man, and I am well and truly blessed!
On Tuesday, I had booked myself for a 90 minute massage, followed by an adjustment at the chiropractor. I had two hours in the middle of the afternoon, all to myself, which is so rare and lovely that I scarcely would know what to do with all those little minutes, had I not had something specific all planned out. I went, I melted, I was rubbed and soothed, and I practically became part of the table. My adjustment was equally wonderful; I floated in and I was so relaxed that my joints nearly adjusted themselves.
Then I came home and detoxed my appreciative muscles in the tub and laid down, intending to nap. Apparently my belly did not get that memo.
The contractions began, and they were ruthless. In, say, six weeks, this behavior would be perfectly acceptable. Now, however, is a bit early. And this, my friends, is why I am on bed rest. This is just what my body does. But on Tuesday, when what I wanted to do was to relax and then attend the service for J.'s mom, it was so the last thing I wanted to be going on. I had already let J. know that we were planning on attending, but she also knows my situation...so I knew that if we didn't make it, she would know why.
All this is to say that was the last time I was out of the house this week, until Mass today. And there I sat--literally sat my way through Mass--and contracted away yet again......and knew. This is the last Sunday I will be able to be at Mass until the Pumpkin makes an appearance. My Darling will bring Jesus to me in a pyx, and I'll participate in the Mass through EWTN, God bless them.
Bed rest is now in earnest, as it should have been before (I blush tremendously at this point), with privileges only to use the loo. I am in my nest, and the activity buzzes around me like a veritable hive. I am writing to you now from the laptop, which My Darling has bullied into accepting the Internet. I have no excuse to be out of bed now.
Rats.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Please keep in prayer our dear Bishop, who has been under spiritual and personal attack of late. This has prompted a huge outpouring of support for him from many good and holy priests and laypeople, thanks be to God, but the prayers must absolutely keep coming!
We also pray for those who ache for the joy of nourishing new life. Infertility is a heavy Cross to bear, and so many suffer through it, including very dear friends of ours. May God bless their hearts to His will and grant His peace to their spirits.
The past couple of weeks have been full.
First of all, I need to update my Dear Readers to let you know that J.'s mother did indeed fly to Jesus last Sunday morning. J. called me that afternoon, and we had a wonderful conversation, remembering her mom and all that she had been and meant to us--the first of many to come, I'm sure. She said that her mother's death was very peaceful, as the weeks preceding had been. The baby shower was held, and J.'s youngest brother was married to his Beloved in the hospital courtyard so that his mom could be present. They were all with her when Jesus called her Home, which is such a blessing....
I was devastated to miss the services on Tuesday night, and the reason for it fits in to my story a little later. I do know, though, that J.'s mom had specifically said, "Nothing dirgy. I want this to be a celebration!"--which is something that I can absolutely hear her saying! Another of my friends was there, and her note said that it was very touching, as I can only imagine it would have been.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Last Sunday, after returning home from Mass, I began to know that I should no longer bother myself with stairs. This is a double-edged sword, because although I am now closer to the loo, I am not so much as close to My Darling at night. This, as my Reepicheep would say, is a Big Fat Rats.
That evening, I sat out in the sun room and played cribbage with My Darling (who had the Monkey on his lap--two against one...I ask you, where is the fairness in that?), and the Frog, the Pickle and the Reepicheep opened up the love seat (the one from Grandma's house!) and proceeded to make it a bed fit for a princess. Or a queen. Or just a tired, rather cumbersome Mama, who really needs to sleep in a place closer to the loo!
When I came inside, it was to my feather bed having been placed on the mattress, and the down comforter draped over top. My favorite sheets had been lovingly tucked in, and my multitude of pillows had been plopped at the head. Although we had to do a little bit of adjusting and rearranging, I have been very comfortably ensconced upon my little nest for a week now. They even made a couple of cards, one of them saying, "I hope your time sleeping downstairs is fun!"---ah, the romantic notions of childhood! They see this as an extended slumber party for Mom. Aren't they sweet?
My Darling has taken up night time residence on the couch, just as he did when I carried the Monkey. I am sad that I cannot share his warmth each night; I never have slept well when we're not in the same bed, but at this stage of the game I don't sleep well anyway. The upside for him is that he no longer has to abide my constant shifting and mashing of pillows all night long--say nothing for the three or four trips to the loo. He, for once, is sleeping better than ever. And he does make it a point to snuggle with me for a bit each night, sometimes falling asleep next to me and making the move across the room when I make my first move to the powder room. He is a good man, and I am well and truly blessed!
On Tuesday, I had booked myself for a 90 minute massage, followed by an adjustment at the chiropractor. I had two hours in the middle of the afternoon, all to myself, which is so rare and lovely that I scarcely would know what to do with all those little minutes, had I not had something specific all planned out. I went, I melted, I was rubbed and soothed, and I practically became part of the table. My adjustment was equally wonderful; I floated in and I was so relaxed that my joints nearly adjusted themselves.
Then I came home and detoxed my appreciative muscles in the tub and laid down, intending to nap. Apparently my belly did not get that memo.
The contractions began, and they were ruthless. In, say, six weeks, this behavior would be perfectly acceptable. Now, however, is a bit early. And this, my friends, is why I am on bed rest. This is just what my body does. But on Tuesday, when what I wanted to do was to relax and then attend the service for J.'s mom, it was so the last thing I wanted to be going on. I had already let J. know that we were planning on attending, but she also knows my situation...so I knew that if we didn't make it, she would know why.
All this is to say that was the last time I was out of the house this week, until Mass today. And there I sat--literally sat my way through Mass--and contracted away yet again......and knew. This is the last Sunday I will be able to be at Mass until the Pumpkin makes an appearance. My Darling will bring Jesus to me in a pyx, and I'll participate in the Mass through EWTN, God bless them.
Bed rest is now in earnest, as it should have been before (I blush tremendously at this point), with privileges only to use the loo. I am in my nest, and the activity buzzes around me like a veritable hive. I am writing to you now from the laptop, which My Darling has bullied into accepting the Internet. I have no excuse to be out of bed now.
Rats.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Please keep in prayer our dear Bishop, who has been under spiritual and personal attack of late. This has prompted a huge outpouring of support for him from many good and holy priests and laypeople, thanks be to God, but the prayers must absolutely keep coming!
We also pray for those who ache for the joy of nourishing new life. Infertility is a heavy Cross to bear, and so many suffer through it, including very dear friends of ours. May God bless their hearts to His will and grant His peace to their spirits.
Monday, September 22, 2008
I didn't want to know that...
There are some phone calls I'd just rather not take.
I have a dear friend who called me in July, asking for prayers for her mother. This lovely lady, who gave me such wonderful guidance when I was young, had gone through breast cancer several years ago and had survived and thrived. In July, she had some tumors removed from her abdominal area, and things were looking like they were going to be back to normal any day.
But not so much tonight.
Tonight when she called, J. let me know that her mom is critically ill...she had a lot of pain this past week, and now they know that the tumors came back, as tumors are wont to do, and with a vengeance. Apparently they didn't get that particular Scriptural memo about vengeance belonging to the Lord.
The family is praying that her kidneys begin to work again. If they don't, it's only a matter of days. Either way, the prognosis is not good. She is on massive doses of pain medications and is beginning to say goodbye to her family.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She loves flowers--she's a master gardener. Her hands are pretty, but they are the hands of a woman who is not afraid of work. I remember that I gave her a set of hand care products as a thank you one summer day, when our family and J's family gathered at her parents' home for a day on the lake.
She makes the most beautiful quilts--my favorite was a sun-burst cross, with all different colors coming together to create a mosaic masterpiece of the beauty of salvation. She could put together the best Halloween costume or play costume at the drop of a hat. When we were kids, she loved dressing up like a clown.
Her house always smells like freshly baked muffins or cookies or breads, and her refrigerator holds perpetual meals for whomever happens by. She always keeps a "Herman" starter on her counter, faithfully stirring it and adding to it when necessary. When something happens in a family, dozens of mini-muffins are immediately forthcoming from her stock.
Her Bible is well-worn and well-loved. It sits in her living room on a table next to the sofa. She and her husband have their time together every single day, and it doesn't stop there for her. She is a woman of unbelievably strong faith, and I would wager there is not a single moment of her day that does not include a prayer. She prays unfailingly for her friends and family, for those who have no one else to pray for them, in supplication for those in need and in thanksgiving for those who are not.
Her guitar and piano were rarely silent when I was a child. She often sings in her garden or in her kitchen, piecing together snatches of hymns and songs here and there to make musical quilts. She passed this love of music on to her children. Her daughter, my friend J., is a music teacher herself.
She is an author, penning everything from the occasional letter to the local newspaper to children's books to articles for national publication in devotional monthlies.
She is a grandmother to three vibrant boys. She has had more than a small hand in raising them, helping them understand the importance of the littlest things of creation: bugs and seeds. She helped to shape their first days and years, and continues to be a strong guiding force in their lives.
She will likely not live to see her first granddaughter born in late December.
She kept me safe when I was a kid. I ran away to that home more times than I can remember. When things were really bad at my house, their home was almost always the place I'd end up, and it was because I knew I would be safe and loved there.
I walked there almost every morning before school, and then J. and I would go on together from there, always with something freshly baked in our hands to munch on the way.
She loves trying new things, always enforcing the rule at the table: everyone has to try everything. If you don't try it, how do you know you don't like it? Imagine what you'll miss if you don't try something that you have a chance of liking!
She has always been a care taker and nurturer, a prayer warrior and a lover of all things beautiful. She taught her children to be compassionate and loving, and with the help of her husband and by the grace of God they have raised three fine people.
I am sick in my heart for my friend, because although she says she is fine Right Now, I know that the stealthy knowledge of loss will shake her to her core. I thank God for J. and all the years of friendship that she and I have been blessed with...and more so for her mom and everything she gave from her heart to me over the years.
Please keep this family in your prayers: for God's will, and for His everlasting peace in their hearts.
I have a dear friend who called me in July, asking for prayers for her mother. This lovely lady, who gave me such wonderful guidance when I was young, had gone through breast cancer several years ago and had survived and thrived. In July, she had some tumors removed from her abdominal area, and things were looking like they were going to be back to normal any day.
But not so much tonight.
Tonight when she called, J. let me know that her mom is critically ill...she had a lot of pain this past week, and now they know that the tumors came back, as tumors are wont to do, and with a vengeance. Apparently they didn't get that particular Scriptural memo about vengeance belonging to the Lord.
The family is praying that her kidneys begin to work again. If they don't, it's only a matter of days. Either way, the prognosis is not good. She is on massive doses of pain medications and is beginning to say goodbye to her family.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She loves flowers--she's a master gardener. Her hands are pretty, but they are the hands of a woman who is not afraid of work. I remember that I gave her a set of hand care products as a thank you one summer day, when our family and J's family gathered at her parents' home for a day on the lake.
She makes the most beautiful quilts--my favorite was a sun-burst cross, with all different colors coming together to create a mosaic masterpiece of the beauty of salvation. She could put together the best Halloween costume or play costume at the drop of a hat. When we were kids, she loved dressing up like a clown.
Her house always smells like freshly baked muffins or cookies or breads, and her refrigerator holds perpetual meals for whomever happens by. She always keeps a "Herman" starter on her counter, faithfully stirring it and adding to it when necessary. When something happens in a family, dozens of mini-muffins are immediately forthcoming from her stock.
Her Bible is well-worn and well-loved. It sits in her living room on a table next to the sofa. She and her husband have their time together every single day, and it doesn't stop there for her. She is a woman of unbelievably strong faith, and I would wager there is not a single moment of her day that does not include a prayer. She prays unfailingly for her friends and family, for those who have no one else to pray for them, in supplication for those in need and in thanksgiving for those who are not.
Her guitar and piano were rarely silent when I was a child. She often sings in her garden or in her kitchen, piecing together snatches of hymns and songs here and there to make musical quilts. She passed this love of music on to her children. Her daughter, my friend J., is a music teacher herself.
She is an author, penning everything from the occasional letter to the local newspaper to children's books to articles for national publication in devotional monthlies.
She is a grandmother to three vibrant boys. She has had more than a small hand in raising them, helping them understand the importance of the littlest things of creation: bugs and seeds. She helped to shape their first days and years, and continues to be a strong guiding force in their lives.
She will likely not live to see her first granddaughter born in late December.
She kept me safe when I was a kid. I ran away to that home more times than I can remember. When things were really bad at my house, their home was almost always the place I'd end up, and it was because I knew I would be safe and loved there.
I walked there almost every morning before school, and then J. and I would go on together from there, always with something freshly baked in our hands to munch on the way.
She loves trying new things, always enforcing the rule at the table: everyone has to try everything. If you don't try it, how do you know you don't like it? Imagine what you'll miss if you don't try something that you have a chance of liking!
She has always been a care taker and nurturer, a prayer warrior and a lover of all things beautiful. She taught her children to be compassionate and loving, and with the help of her husband and by the grace of God they have raised three fine people.
I am sick in my heart for my friend, because although she says she is fine Right Now, I know that the stealthy knowledge of loss will shake her to her core. I thank God for J. and all the years of friendship that she and I have been blessed with...and more so for her mom and everything she gave from her heart to me over the years.
Please keep this family in your prayers: for God's will, and for His everlasting peace in their hearts.
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