i would have

Sometimes it takes a minute - or a month - to catch your breath. 
That's how i feel about you, Tiny. 
i thought that maybe since you were so wee - and my husband so unready... i thought that since i was so overwhelmed and my children so unsuspecting - that maybe i just wouldn't have to hurt over your Homecoming... quite so much. 
But there's this queer little ache that refuses to be shushed. 
You lived. 
And i don't care if i'm thought ridiculous anymore. 
i don't care. 
i don't need or want to talk with anyone about it - but it seems i'm incapable of escaping grief altogether... and so in this sojourning place... i'll just whisper the words of this post...
i would have loved you, Tiny. 
i would have defended your existence to your hesitant daddy.  i would have cleared out a tiny spot for you to lay your downy head.  i would have gone though morning sickness, stretch marks, discomfort and illness... in a heartbeat.  i would have taken the disapproving looks of friends and strangers...
i would have protected you with every ounce of strength i have...
if i'd have had the chance. 

Losing Tiny

i've never had a miscarriage so early that i found out what i lost before i even knew that i had it. 
It's a strange thing to understand you're pregnant and that you're losing the baby - all in the same breath - a feeling of wonder drenched in sorrow and dread. 
And so i will name you Tiny.  Tiny wonder that did me the honour of breaking my body - making sure that i knew you were there - that you lived. 
i texted my husband in shock - telling him i was miscarrying a baby we never knew i was pregnant with.... and in tenderness, he sent the comfort and the acknowledgement i needed.
And so the loveliness of our time away was touched with the intimate sorrow... of losing Tiny.
And i find my own grief to be strange - there are a million flavours to it... and i'm unable to articulate a single one.
And i don't want to talk.  i don't want to play and sing.  i don't even want to think or cook or clean.   i don't need anything from anyone - & i feel physically fine.  i'm tired of my own flesh and i find i'm most comfortable wrapped around Ephraim waiting for Time to work her magic and make the sting a little less...
Next year will bring fewer moments endured - and more moments enjoyed, right? 
Regardless, i trust Him.  Job 1:21

wave of light...

October 15th is pregnancy and infant loss remembrance day...
All over the world at 7pm, families will light a candle and leave it burning for one hour.  This will create a continuous wave of light to honour these wee ones who so deeply impacted our lives. 

Caleb and Hope... i'm so glad you came...
Even just for a short time.  i'm so glad i got to be your mama - to be changed right down to my very core by your brief, tender lives.  You challenged me to thoroughly examine my life, my faith, my calling and my God - and i found Him faithful.  i'm eternally grateful, -mama. 

walk to remember 2011

grief

Gratitude changes the *flavour* of grief... we still taste it, but it's sweetness comes out - rather than it's bitterness.
It was a strange week... a struggling sort - a tough kind. 
Finally at night - lying next to my near-sleep husband, i whispered, "Do you think i would still be struggling so hard if it wasn't the first week of September?"
He let out his breath - in a long exhale...
"Why don't you just tell me these things instead of making me wonder why you're so sad?"
& it's because i hardly know them myself... they come upon me like night comes upon day - i'm not even aware of it - till the leaves turn - i see a calendar - i want another baby... or at least to enjoy the dream of another wee one.
& i curl my body up next to his broad back already taking it's deep rhythmic breaths - i trail his hairline with my fingertips and will myself to sleep - while grief and gratitude co-exist in this first week of September  mist.

Summer Thoughts

We took a road trip to Manitoba. 
It was beautiful and hot - and there were no mosquitoes there - much to my surprise.  We went for a family wedding - Neil's side.  His side of the family is incredibly tight, and it has been fun as an outsider these past 15 years to watch them operate. 
Honestly?  i left my computer at home on purpose... Too much on my mind to be able to sift & blog coherently.  Sometimes you gotta live before you can digest & tentatively choose if you're able to put out your embryonic ideas for the world to see in all their vulnerability. 
So this week, i lived. 
But i took notes - hastily scrawled bits and pieces as they came to me: country music, divorce, marriage, children, wonderings, a small bit of a character sketch for my next novel - if it ever decides it wants to be written. 
i wondered about leaving off this blog forever... if maybe now was the right time to put an end to this tiny honest wondering place... But now i have been home for less than an hour - and as my boys sleep around me, and my brother in law's family finds spots in our home to lay their weary bones down for the night - i decided that maybe it's not quite time yet.  Maybe there are more words to say - more ideas to explore - more of His Goodness to declare... here. 
So in this quiet pitta pat rainy night - as midnight creeps closer - i'll tell you one tiny story from my days away. 
We got to see Elmer.   And for whatever reason - with Elmer, i'm not an outsider.  His still strong hands are getting old, and the hair i used to trim for him is becomming more white than grey.  i noticed he had put on a little weight, but for the most part, it seems Elmer never changes.  (Neither do his neices and nephews, for that matter - as they gathered for a picture, Neil grabbed the white cane out of his hands to smack his brother with).
Elmer's a popular guy at these family gatherings... but i managed to squeeze in and steal his attention for a minute or two... After a moment, he commented casually, "Hey, Paige - i wonder why those two got away on you?  If you hadn't lost those two babies, you would have nine, wouldn't you?" 
And sometimes - family is predictable in a comforting sort of way... Sometimes the sameness of your conversations become like a well travelled road.  There is a certain sweetness in the familiarity of exploring that shared past with someone who remembers.  And so i took that walk with him.... there in that crowded backyard as his words lifted me to another time and place - because even still - i know those babies changed me, and i think on some level, he must know that too - & that's why he'll never, ever stop bringing them up. 
The next day as he left the hotel, he tossed over his shoulder, "i'll talk to Cairo next week..."
And he will. 
And they'll talk about what we all had for dinner and what instruments she likes to play, and if she helps around the house.  And they'll prune that tiny familar conversational path as they meander along it, building memories of their own....

mama

i know...
i don't always blog on Sundays -
but it's Mother's Day - & i find myself grateful.
i'm grateful for my mama who birthed me & grew me -
for my mother in law - who did the same for my rare man.
i'm grateful for these tiny & not so tiny ones who made me a mama myself.
i'm grateful for my sister-mama's who, having seven children each of their own - are almost as familiar with my life as i am myself.
-& whispered voice from deep offers comforting truth...
i'm grateful for the two who are waiting for me in heaven - whose tender, brief lives make me a better mama - and human being...

& gratitude grows...

timing...

His... not mine that is...
i got my book yesterday. Funny how that little event coincided with Ash Wednesday; the beginning of a Catholic holiday that has proved beneficial to me over the past several years.
i believe that the observance of lent can serve as a tenderizer to the heart - and do i ever want to be soft.
40 days - 40 weeks.

(*not the real cover - but very similar to the one we ended up choosing :)

The whole day seemed full of "40" - i got an email from a sweet friend, inviting me to look at the website 40daysforlife.com and was encouraged to pray fervently for the wounded and the hurting, the ones impacted by abortion in our country - and our world during this season of lent.
That same day, my mama posted a picture of the teeny memorial plaques that my parents placed for Caleb and Hope (and wee Charis too)... We have been waiting years- and this is the day i first got to see their little names inscribed with the words so carefully chosen.

And maybe i'm reading into the coincidences surrounding the timing of the arrival of that brown parcel - with my skinny novel inside - but i feel the whisper in the wind to keep giving all i have for His glory - and to continue to proclaim truth gently.

My sister said to me, "Sometimes God's timing is just so gentle and obvious of a reminder that He *is* concerned with what concerns us most. love..."

i love that too...

*************************

ps - still going through the little painstaking process to finish off tiny bits of edits before i make my book available... i think it might be ready by May?

grief questions...

My friend wrote a post forever ago with questions about grief - the questions are specific to losing a baby, but i think that looking at grief can be a valuable thing - no matter what it is we're grieving... health, the absence of justice, lack of love...
Grief is universal - and yet we each experience it so uniquely.
i took the questions and answered them, but never got around to posting them here, until now.

**************************************************

I want to know if you think about them often.
i think about them often - together - & separately too. Sometimes as i'm drifting off to sleep. Sometimes it's just a peaceful knowledge that all will be well - & sometimes it's a random heartbreaking memory. There are little things i have intentionally placed in our home so that i have carved out a place to honour the memory of those 2 lives that deeply impacted me. i have a tiny baby quilt that Ephraim uses that i made after i lost caleb, i have a piece of art that Neil bought me when i was pregnant with Hope. i have their names on a necklace that i wear - & their memorial certificates on my bedroom wall & a picture of the terrible beauty in the sky the night that we found out that Caleb had gone Home. My sister took it and sent it to me...

I want to know what reminds you of them.
*Yorkton Saskatchewan. Caleb is my only child delivered in the same province that i was born in.
*Mayfair - that's where Hope's ultrasound happened.
*Jason Upton's music,
*the song _i surrender all_,
*other women who say, "pheuf, i made it through the first trimester" - because Caleb did too - & because Hope didn't.

I want to know what you remember most about that pregnancy.
Both of them - finding out i was pregnant. They each came at a time in my life when i longed for a baby. i'm so grateful i journaled through Hope's short pregnancy... it was pure joy. i wrote in there, "even while i'm getting sick every morning, i can't wipe the smile off my face..." - i'm so glad that my journal was full of gratitude.

I want to know if their siblings remind you of them.
We thought Caleb looked like Cairo when he was born. He was still so tiny though - & with Hope it was impossible to guess about features... but in my mind, Caleb would have been a cross between Cairo & Charter...
But the siblings that remind me *most* of Caleb & Hope are Sloanie & Gagey - the 2 born to me after each loss. i wish i could have kept them all...

What do you think their personality would be?
Sometimes... when i let my imagination go... i imagine them to be something like my friend Fawne's Wyatt. He was missing a tiny bit of one chromosome - & yet even with all the issues that his little body faced - he was so sweet & uncomplaining. i hope that no matter what happened with my 2 little ones - they would have the sweetness that Wyatt had.

What do you look forward to the most in seeing them someday?
Won't it be amazing to have everyone... all together?

Are there certain dates that seem to hit the hardest?
Funny enough - their dates cross in both February - and in September. It's not a specific date that hits the hardest - it's those days surrounding *the dates* in those 2 months.
Mothers day - that would be the day that i struggle with... because i'm reminded of what i lost.

What were you expecting in grief and how did it surprise you?
i didn't know it would be so solitary. It's not the same for men & women - & it's certainly unique to every individual.
Grief... is lonely.

What did you learn through their life and death... and through the pain that follows?
"Time heals" sounds so trite, & yet there is a depth to that truth. Having Caleb & Hope changed everything for me. i'm a different girl than i would have been, had they not come. Their brief lives sharpened my desire for Heaven - & eternal things. They challenged my views on children - and motherhood - and forced me to examine what i truly believe.
i'm so grateful i got the opportunity to mother them - and to continue to mother them from afar - as i journey Home too.

Do you ever think of me?

i remember you - in your hospital gown - with your rounded belly, as you walked the halls.
You had coppery curly hair - & your husband looked tired.
i didn't want to look at you - as we both laboured in the full maternity ward.
i let Neil stay in that strange 'common room' they had - & i went & lay in my bed - waiting for the contractions to start.
i think i forgot about you for awhile - as you walked the halls & i stayed in my room... with the door shut - planets and stars seeming to orbit my small womb - that held my dead baby...
But we met again - you pale and surprised -
me screaming and crying for help -
when my baby came sooner than expected & i found myself alone.
& then you ran - & got help - even as your own labour continued...
& at the time, i thought only of myself - in my selfish grief - as i stared at that tiny lifeless form lying between my legs...
But last night i thought of you - of your baby.
i don't know if you had a son or a daughter on that september afternoon in 1997...
Maybe by now, your beautiful coppery hair has a few greys. Your son or daughter just celebrated their 13th birthday.
i wonder if you remembered me too - & my tiny son - on that maternity ward all those years ago...
& maybe when you tucked in your lanky teenager...
you felt gratitude-
like a gentle,
rhythmic,
heartbeat.
************************************************************

At the walk to remember, they were raising money for a 'remembering room' - for grieving families.
i carried around many... many regrets from Caleb's birth for a very long time after he was born. i wished that there were caring, gentle individuals - who could have helped me make good choices in such a confusing time.
i believe in this life honouring type of cause... & i hope it brings comfort to those who brokenly walk through it's doors.

walk to remember 2010

"Neil?"
"Hm."
"i had a little cry."
"In Dairy Queen?"
"no. Before that."
"oh. That's alright."
"yeh."

One of those mornings...

It's funny - it was a pretty average morning... As my sister Stephanie so eloquently put it, "i feel like i'm spending all my SOUL to make it work."
i did my usual - up to the last minute forcing my eyes shut while little feet pummelled my back. My night still a blur of half dream, half wake - baby lovin'.
Finally, rousting my weary bones & tying my hair back without brushing it.
Neil made coffee.
i love that man.
Even though he was already gone... he must've set the timer 'cause he knows just what minute i'll climb jammy clad down those stairs.
Change a diaper, take a little boy potty, nurse the baby, rush to put my toast in & have my bum obediently at the table by 8 ready to 'school' with my stack of morning books by my coffee. i snatched a moment to check my email & my eye caught one from our music pastor, genially reminding me that i'm leading the singing this Sunday. i had forgotten. i'm glad i had stashed some *must do soon* music in a folder by my piano - & i'm glad i get to play this Sunday - the pastor is in the middle of a really thought provoking series called "suburban legends..." & it's hitting on some pretty major myths that we believe about our Father...
But back to my morning...
i wish i could include a sound byte so you could hear the noise.
The thing is - every night - *every night* - i dutifully clean my kitchen & main floor. Even when Neil's gone on business... i don't know - it has become a kind of habit for me i guess. Neil can't stand to come down in the morning if it's not tidied - & so it always manages to get done... somehow.
But within about 15 minutes, you'd never know that. Those long silent hours while we sleep get broken with a SMASH as 9 people descend upon our little kitchen - & the crumbs come dancing across the floors, the fingers make smudging smears across every cleared surface, the baby drools across the floor & it looks... lived in... to put it gently...in an instant.
& that was the case this morning. It wasn't out of the ordinary... it just *was* the ordinary - the ordinary extraordinary chaos.
i liked that morning. As i usually do. Despite the pressing news that i needed to get the music organized. i like doing school with all the littles together.
Even when i feel like i'm yelling over the babbling baby.
Even when i'm pausing mid paragraph because sunshine boy is crying, "Watch meeeeee!! Watch meee!!!!" while he runs his laps around the tiny track that our house is for him.
i like how baby thumps his feet if we sing.
i like how Mollen is a sponge.
i like how my big girls read with expression.
As soon as we finish, i quickly dismiss to do math (at our house, Cai does her own math, Sloanie gets Peyton started first & then does her math, & i do math with the 2 youngest at the kitchen table while tidying up & watching the 2 littlest boys).
i got the 2 littlest 'middlies' going on writing instead, since they can do that independently, while i played my piano with baby pulled up next to me in his highchair. He likes it when i sing and smile at him.... Gagey danced, Charter drummed with his pencil on the table & Miss molls threw back her head & sang along with her full little voice, not pretending very well to get her work done.
Finally, i had some music put together that i thought could work, so i went to email the list to the music pastor... As i sat on our unmade bed & pressed 'send' on the laptop, in my jammies, i wondered when i would get a shower, or get the kitchen cleaned. The children were all diligently working - while the chaos of breakfast held onto it's momentary victory in the ebb & flow of tidiness... & then the phone rang.
"i'll be there in 7 minutes - & i'm bringing my uncle over."
Cai, (did i mention her nickname is radar?) was thankfully listening in on the line & as soon as the phone was hung up - called the troops into action.
When Neil walked in the door - order reigned once more & i was wearing pants.
& so it was that our morning played itself out.... & after a few unexpected leaps & lurches, we plowed on into the afternoon.
One of those ordinary mornings... that toss you in the air like a brittle fall leaf. Gonna enjoy my spiraling journey back to earth.

i thought of you today...

My 2 that don't get to be in all my pictures...

Maybe it's that i'm visiting such a beautiful place...

makes me think of heaven.

You won't throw stones in the ocean...

or try to wrap skinny arms around tall trees...

You won't trap tiny crabs in seashells...

Or comb the pebbles looking for beach glass...

& yet the ripples from your little lives continue to grow and spread...

i'm so grateful for you.

i hate miscarriage...

i guess that's like saying, 'i hate death & disease...'
i guess i do.
i hate the pain - & the sorrow & the grief that get drowned in well meaning people who quote statistics, "they say that so many percent of babies are lost to miscarriage & mothers don't even know it..."
oh.
So what do i say? i guess i shouldn't care then? i guess my world shouldn't be rocked? i guess i should just pretend my body doesn't moan and weep for the little ones it longed to carry...
i have been watching friends grieve miscarriages again this year...
Like i guess i do every year... friends or acquaintances... who come to mind frequently because i feel a little bit like maybe where they're walking is familiar sacred ground.
& i know i don't get it completely... we've all travelled different paths, delivered our little ones under different circumstances, in different seasons of our lives. Our grief is our own - our reactions unique.
i saw a picture in a community building today. It was a painting of a veteran sitting in a graveyard with a child sitting by his side, compassionately comforting the old man who sat with his face in his hands. i stopped mid step & looked carefully at the picture.
i felt like the old man...
i still miss my babies.
i wish i could show you - right now - on my blog - caleb's perfect feet.
Seriously - so cute.
won't
heaven
be
amazing....

Hope's Day... The unpublished post...

As we waited for baby Yum to come - i found i felt like writing in the afternoons... This is the post i had prepared for the morning of February 14th... i'm gonna post it now... Seems fitting as February 17th was Caleb's due date. Amidst my gratitude for this beautiful, fresh life in my home - i remember the little ones i didn't get to keep - & i'm grateful for them too.
T - thinking of you this week in your sorrow & loss...
*********************************************************************


There are little holes in our family.
When someone asks me what number i'm currently carrying and i answer, "Seven."
i say it tentatively.
My mother's heart refuses to deny the 2 i didn't get to raise.
They have each carved their place in my life - & i can't imagine - nor do i want to imagine - the person i would be if they had never come.

February 14th 2007 -
That was Hope's day.
i'm sure there is much that could be written about these "in between" years too - the years that carried us from the Mollen years to Hope's day... from Sexsmith to Calgary... in Neil's career from production to sales... from finished finality to the possibility of more children...
But, for now - for today - i think it's time to tell you about baby Hope.
i woke up in the morning of February 12th, knowing that the life in my womb had gone...
It was the most bizarre feeling - i was still early enough in my pregnancy that, really - there shouldn't have been much to indicate there was anything awry. i had thrown up only days before - i was bloated and tired and deliriously excited to be expecting another baby.
But, when i woke up that morning, in a panic - i layed my hands on my abdomen - & the first thing i did was to cry out to God to give me my baby back. i pled with Him for the little life - remembering how in the Bible, he heard the cries of grieving mothers - and had done miraculous things. i hoped for no less for my little baby.
i felt Him say, "No".
My rational brain tried to tell me that i was being crazy... but i went to see a doctor & when she saw how distraught i was - she immediately ordered me an early ultrasound - for February 14th. "Mostly for your peace of mind..." she said.. but i could tell, she believed me.
It was Valentines day - & the littles had planned a red an pink celebration.
As they babbled excitedly about the new baby who would be attending next Valentines day - my heart silently broke & i asked them to be quiet.
Neil was gone on a business trip -
i sat at my piano & praised the God who is the giver and taker of life.

He saw me...

& in the holy hush of that heartwrenching morning - He came and met with me... and remained with me for my whole vigil - that lasted until February 26th, when finally my body let go of the little one it had longed to carry.
Those days are emblazoned on my memory - a testimony of my Father's faithfulness. There wasn't a moment i was alone - or felt abandoned.
Hope's life was a gift - a treasure.
You can read Hope's whole story here.
What a faithful, loving Father i serve....

i'll share a note i wrote to some friends yesterday that captured a bit of my heart for these tender days waiting for another precious baby - praying for peace, for health, for life...

"i'm *feeling* it this morning - it is close... like a presence. i have never felt imminent birth like this - there was too much focus on myself at the end of my other pregnancies... This is something beautiful. i'm finally getting mild *mild* contractions... Oh, God, let this be it...
Tomorrow is the anniversary of the day i found out that baby Hope had died. After we found out, Neil & i decided to wait & let baby come on it's own timing. It took almost 2 full weeks for my body to l.e.t. g.o.
i'm wondering if God's timing has anything to do with a sort of a washing & a redemption for me... Either way - i never thought these dates would come so close. Caleb's due date (my first son i lost) was February 17th... This time of year is always so poignant for me - & as i'm walking closer & closer to these dates - i feel Him walking with me.
i'm grateful."

zion's song...

Awhile ago, i posted this post with the words for a song i wrote during Gagey's pregnancy.
This week, as i was sifting through music to sing at church - i found my little scrap of loose leaf paper with my words scrawled across it & chords crossed out, rearranged & changed. Green & black ink combined as the song took form over a couple of days - the finished product looking like something belonging in the garbage can.
i pulled it out of my folder.
& began to play the intro.
Suddenly, behind me, a little diaper clad boy began to dance.
His tiny arms flung to the sky - his voice gently coaxing out melodies & vowels as he danced.
Gagey's pregnancy was a time where i had to hide my face in the folds of my Father's lap.
My last pregnancy had ended in a heartbreaking miscarriage - & as i neared the end of this pregnancy, my friend -who was my company as we waited for our babies arrivals - our due dates within days of each other - lost her beautiful son.
"and i know that they're in your hand - "
i sang a song of surrender - while wanting to clutch my unborn child to me... Wanting to reach across eternity and return my friend's son to her empty, aching arms. Wanting to wash the sorrow i saw born in her eyes with the birth of her precious firstborn - and replace it with the pride of new motherhood.
"& i know i am safe in your hand -"
He met me in my fear and ministered to my broken heart -
My voice seemed to catch in my throat - my son - my love - my treasure - reminding me that the gift of his little life - of his little voice, of his dancing legs... is from my loving Father - who also measures out heartbreak and loss and sorrow.
One day... one day... all will be made right.
Sounds so simplistic, doesn't it?
But, it's true.
He is trustworthy - & so while i wait - i'll sing Zion's song - Heaven's song - & cling to all that i know to be true about the One i love.

yorkton & mayfair

If either of those words came up in casual conversation - i'd probably be able to keep you from noticing that my heart skipped a beat...
But both of those words are like a time warp for me -
Both pull me, reeling into the past.
Yorkton - to that ultrasound table with a wand on my belly & my son's form on a black and white screen... my husband's hands covering my mouth, muffling the sobs that could not be silenced...
Mayfair - to another ultrasound... & though my husband was on an airplane flying home to me, i never felt alone - i could feel His presence pressing in so thick i could almost breathe Him in as i saw another wee one - still.
There are probably more words, dates, smells & numbers that bring back different memories - different images that have been stored in my mind - ready to be awakened when the right key turns in the right lock...
i'm grateful for memories - even painful ones that make me cry -
They remind me where i've been - & Whose child i am...
& Who holds me still...

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day

i didn't know it was recognized in Canada too - but apparently, it is.
October 15th is set aside to remember those little lives who have so deeply impacted so many families across Canada.
At 7 pm - our local time - we lit candles to remember our Caleb & our baby Hope - along with other moms & dads across Canada & the United States - creating a wave of light in memory of our little ones.
At 8 pm - we gently blew them out...
It's sad to live in a country that recognizes and protects a mother's right to an abortion at any stage of pregnancy right up to the moment of a child's birth. It's legal to perform abortions on little pre-teen girls without a parent's consent... They take our tax dollars & though the vast majority of abortions are elective - and morally abhorrent to a large percentage of the population, we're forced to pay for them. Women quickly make the decision that will haunt them for the rest of their lives - & are left to carry the burden of their loss alone, unless by some miracle they can meet the Father, who so freely lifts burdens, forgives trespasses, and gives shelter to the hurting, lost.

Oh, God - i'm ashamed of this country i live in...

& yet... a teeny beacon...
A group of individuals that wanted to organize a day of remembrance.
To take the veil of silence and shame that comes with loss, and to replace it with a mantle of comfort & understanding. i've never had an abortion, but i see the fruit of this evil in the way that we as a people respond to miscarriage, stillbirth & infant loss -

Silence.

How can we be fighting to save a 24 week preemie in one wing of a hospital while we are killing a 24 week preemie in another?
Is life precious?
Or disposable?
We are a nation conflicted...
Conflicted, and yet, in grief - i stand shoulder to shoulder with the mothers and the fathers who made the horrible mistake of ending their child's life. Their grief is real - their loss, heartbreaking, and their need for forgiveness overwhelming.
Could there come a time when we would all recognize what is lost... and what is thrown away... and when we hold one another up - and wipe each other's tears?
Could it be, that the first step towards repentance is grief?
Life - breathed into us by the Creator,
The Redeemer -
The only One who is Trustworthy enough to hold it in His Hands...
is precious -
it needs to be protected, and gently acknowledged.

Taste of Tomorrow's post...

Today is Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Day - all across Canada & the United States, people will be lighting a candle from 7-8pm at their local time & creating a wave of light to remember our little ones who went Home early.
i prepared a blogpost for tomorrow - but i wanted to post this here - so that as many as want to, can participate tonight, together.

This is the 'more to come' post...

After a turn out of 350 their first year (they expected 75) they had over 750 their second year... i think this speaks to a need being filled...

Caleb's balloon (below) & Hope's balloon (above)...

This is my sweet friend jen - aka "J" - one of the most generous with her broken heart, people i've ever met... Her & her beautiful son Brennan have had an enormous impact on me. Last year at the walk, she was pregnant with her little cutie, Kellan - & this year i get the pleasure of carrying a fresh life. So good to have friends to share your joy & help carry your grief. Having my friends & family there - acknowledging their little ones - Melissa's Jaron & Chavonne, my sister's little one, Charis - made for company - where there is usually solitude. Our balloon tags... Still didn't know what to write a whole year later...

Something new this year: they had a memory line... such a perfect addition. So hard to think of the perfect words - with frigid hands & a crowded table. Next year, i will be prepared...

They had a harpist & a violinist this year - as well as the same speaker as last year... i need to go read her blog to see what she said... i had a bunch of little monkeys that were acting like little monkeys - & even though i loved having all my little ones there... they were a little distracting.

They also collected donations of teddy bears for bereaved parents. It seems like there were no ideas left unthought of...



& so... i'm done...

with thoughts left unblogged...

images in my mind of parents - eyes searching - looking heavenward -

an understanding that grief and separation are temporary - but that temporary means a lifetime of missing my little ones...