Happy Surprises

I have been avoiding blogging about this because I wanted to keep it private for about 3 more weeks. Yes, I'm pregnant for the fourth time. I have been so tempted to start documenting everything but haven't been ready to "go public" so instead I've decided to document it as of today and keep it private until we are ready to make the big announcement. At that point, these posts will be retroactively public (retroactively? Is that right?)
Anyway, I have known for over 5 weeks now. Wow! Time is flying by. Things have been going well and, thankfully, different than last time. Okay. I'm getting ahead of myself. First things first, I found out because of a silly little comment my Mom made (the day we went to plant the flowers actually). After we picked out the flowers she suggested we take Ethan for ice cream. While sitting in Coldstone I expressed my desire to redecorate our house. While muttering about furniture, she gave me a suspicious look and said "you're nesting." I laughed to myself and I think out loud a little too. Was it possible? I was sure it wasn't because Aron had been travelling a lot, and the timing seemed to be way off for that to even be a possibility.
Later on I stopped at Target and picked up a 2 pack box of First Response tests (feeling very silly because I was so certain it was impossible). We got home and I opened the box, took the test, sat it down and turned the bath water on for Ethan. I had actually forgotten about it and a couple minutes later noticed it on the counter. I headed over to the trash can, fully prepared to see only a single line, glanced at it and couldn't believe my eyes. (i literally didn't believe them) I held it up, squinted a little, and there it was. Unmistakable. The faintest second line.
In fact, I was in such disbelief that I didn't tell Aron that night. I just thought if it's for real when I take the second test tomorrow morning the line will be darker. I laid in bed that night, kept the possible news close to my heart and spent some time with the Lord, reading His Word and talking to Him. I remember praying that His will be done and thanking Him for this precious, and rather unexpected, gift. Unfortunately, I think I had been through so much heart ache the last couple of years that it would take a few more weeks for the possibility of having a living, healthy baby to be a reality in my mind.
I woke up the next morning, took the second test, and knew for certain that my eyes were not playing tricks on me the night before.

Letting the Flowers Die

Wow. It has been a long time since I've blogged. Where to begin...

Needless to say, the last few months have been hard. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about my Walter, recalling his little face to mind, remembering the eery silence in the room after I gave birth. It was such a stark contrast to when Ethan was born. It was dark, and quiet and sterile.

There is so much in that dark scenario that I have to be thankful for. We sang, prayed, read God's Word, and held him for hours when he was born, watching his little heart continue to beat, swaddled in the baby blanket my mother made for him with the words "You are loved" hand-stitched on it. It was such a blessing that I had no hemmorhage or residual issues from the area where my AVM was and didn't require special medical attention, so we had all that extra time to breathe our sweet angel baby in. Every second counted; every second was and is treasured.

To call it to mind - it still is so painful. I think I expected that 8 months down the road I would be in a different place, maybe just sighing and smiling to myself when I thought of him. I'm just not there. I wonder if it will every really feel much different, or will it just stay this way? Will I ever be able to say I'm truly "happy" that he isn't with us, playing with his brother, falling asleep in my arms, wrestling with his Daddy? I can't imagine it.

I know because he is my son that I will never stop loving him. It is an impossibility. I suppose I am still grieving in some ways.

A couple of months ago I was thinking that I wanted to plant some flowers at his gravesite. In fact, I NEEDED to plant the flowers. I don't know any other way to explain it. I needed to go back there and do something for him, make the place where his little body was laying colorful. Believe me. I know his soul is already gone. I quickly realized that the reason I NEEDED to do it was only because of me.

So my Mom and I went to the greenhouse. We picked out some pretty and colorful flowers and headed to the cemetery. It was a scorching hot day, but we managed to dig up the ground and plant the flowers. We watered them and decided that with the heat wave here in NJ watering the flowers would need to be a daily occurance. Since I live 5 minutes down the road I assumed the task, happily I might add.

It wasn't long before I found that I was drawn to the cemetery. I realized again that I wasn't doing this for Walter. I was doing it for myself. He is with God where there are no more tears or pain or death or sorrow. He is not paying any attention to what is going on at his gravesite, and for that I am so glad. One of my only comforts is that his life was never and will never be tainted by the sadness of this world.

The last couple of times I went to the cemetery I noticed something different in me. It was this angry, bitter emotion. Something about visiting that spot wasn't just about visiting my Walter anymore. It was about feeding this demon inside of me. It was like everytime I went there to water the flowers, I was watering an ugly, sinful bitterness, and it was growing like a weed. At first, I would just tear up a little while I was there, but as time went by it wasn't just sadness I was feeling. It was bitterness. I cannot even explain when or how it turned from tears to anger. It happened when I wasn't looking I suppose.

It took a matter of just a few days before I saw what I was doing, what I was becoming. I'm sure it all sounds a little over the top; oh, I wish it was something I made up. But it was very real, and that was when I realized it was time to let the flowers die. Keeping them alive wasn't worth me feeding the weeds that were growing inside of me.

I think what I'm saying is this. It is okay - not just okay - it is right to grieve ("Blessed are those who mourn" Matthew 5:4), but if it comes to a point where you are sacrificing your own spiritual well being in the midst of your grieving, let the grief die. Don't water it, don't nurture it. Let the sun scorch it and burn it.

"If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off. It is better for you to enter into life maimed, rather than having two hands, to go to hell, into the fire that shall never be quenched..." (Mark 9:43) If there is sin in your life or anything that comes between you and Christ, don't just let it go. Don't just walk away. Run. It isn't passive. It can't be. It's war. Or at least it should be.

I'm sorry to say this, but even 8 months after I said goodbye, I've come to recognize that my baby's gravesite isn't a place I should visit often. I'm sure for many people they could say the opposite, that visiting their loved ones who have passed has helped them heal. For me, I think it is more like taking a scab that isn't ready to come off and picking it off, opening it, making it susceptible to infection. I think for now, I am just going to leave it alone, not disturb it and let it heal some more.

All this being said, for anyone who reads this and sees seeds of bitterness sprouting in their own life, there is a short booklet called "Bitterness" written by Lou Priolo. It is an excellent resource that I would highly recommend and well worth the small investment of your time to look into it.