Grils and Bog

On the day before Rachel died, I had a friend over at our house, with her three boys (or was it just the younger two?).  We had a great visit and I am glad that she could see Rachel on her last day with us.  Rachel was so content all day.  I remember how shocked I was at how seldom she needed to eat.  And she just seemed happy to sit beside us while we visited. 

The boys made a sign for Ethan and Abigail's bedroom door.  I think at first it was going to read "Girls not allowed" or "Boys only", something like that.  But after some tears (Abigail's) and encouragement from us, they were persuaded to write "Boys and Girls" (allowed)  The actual printing is more like "Grils and Bog"! The things that look like stickers are actually bandaids stolen from the hallway closet (of course!).  For weeks afterward, whenever I looked at that door, I smiled.  It is still on their door today because it reminds me of that very last happy day with our little girl.  

I think I might take it down soon...but I want to remember.....so here it is...

The God Who Saves From Death

Do you believe that God pursues you? That He is creatively using ways to speak to you? Simply because He loves you?  I'm usually pretty hard of hearing, too wrapped up in myself to pay attention. (and truthfully, a bit cautious when people seem to speak too freely about 'God speaking to them'.) But I think that skepticism can sometimes keep me from seeing what God is doing around me....and I don't want to be deaf to His voice.  I really do want to know Him.  I think  that's why I write sometimes.  I want to record times like this... so that I won't forget how we heard His voice in the dark times.  


Several weeks ago I had a nightmare.  I dreamt that I was dead but still able to watch everyone from my body.  It's hard to explain but the feeling was of being trapped, silenced, cut off - and it was terrifying.  There was one other time that I remember dreaming this - it was the night before we buried Rachel.  On that night, all I could think about was her body in the casket which was sitting on the downstairs couch, just a few feet away from our bedroom.  We had just made the long trip, 16 hours or so, across the prairies to reach my parents' place.  Stopping at McDonalds twice. Watching parents with their babies while mine was in the back of our van...in a casket. Yeah. That wasn't easy.  And the days and nights before we buried her, our minds were trying to comprehend this.  How could she be gone? And where was she? What had happened to our little girl? And at night, when my thoughts were cloudy with exhaustion and stress - I felt afraid, panicked because I didn't know where she was.  I know what God says about death.  But I had never had to lay my daughter's body in the back of a hearse before....


Then, the second similar dream happened a few weeks ago.  I got up to start the day, shaken.  Again I had that desperate feeling to know if Rachel was really safe, if she was really ok.  After getting Ethan off to school and the day was on it's way, I checked the mail box.  And found a card from a friend. This is the verse she wrote on the inside......


"Praise be to the Lord, to God our Saviour, who daily bears our burdens. Our God is a God who saves; from the Sovereign Lord comes escape from death." Psalm 68: 19,20


wow. Did that verse come to me at the right time or what? I could feel the fear slowly dissapating as I read this over several times, and allowed it to sink in, deep inside.  God saves us from death! Rachel is ok! Death does not have a hold on her because of HIM.  And perhaps just as comforting to me was the thought that God, who must have known what I needed to hear that morning, directed my friend two provinces away to share that verse with me by mail.  Was it co-incidence? Now reading over what I wrote, it seems like it might have been.  But that morning, it seemed like this was His direct response to my battles with fear.  And the truth of those verses hit those fears where it mattered.     


Dave read me a quote this morning....and just because it kind of fits, I'm going to add it too.  Having just written about my fears of death - this was amazing for me to hear.  What would it be like to know God and trust Him like this?!!!


As one of you put it to me, when you were in the midst of a terrible, life-threatening illness and I asked you if you were afraid of death, you said to me, “Not really. When I think of all the trouble that God has gone to for me, all the tricks that God has used to grab me, all the traps that God has lain to catch me, I can’t believe God will let a little thing like death stump him.” -William Willimon, Conversations with Barth on Preaching, 133

Rachel's soother

I saw a little boy sucking on Rachel's soother today.  Of course it wasn't really HER soother.  But it's not one I see often.  A rubber hospital orange one.  And literally, just this morning I had finally moved the soother that was sitting on top of her last dirty bib, on top of the filing cabinet, in the office where she died - and put it next to the kitchen sink to wash.  It was time.  We felt ready.  I let my hands run over the stickiness left by the tylonol we gave her sometime in her last days and I said good-bye....again. 

A few hours later I was standing in the entrance to Abigail's preschool class and I saw this boy sucking on the SAME ONE.  And the father laughed, said that his little boy had gone hunting and found his baby soother and wouldn't let it go.  And a big....hard.....lump grew in my throat.  I think I opened my mouth, thinking I should say something witty back, or at least laugh. I think I managed to smile.  And then, the moment passed. And we went home. 

Later on today, I was at Children's place, returning some boots.  And there were so many babies.  And toddlers.  And it just kept hitting me again and again how much I would LOVED to have experienced Rachel as a toddler.  I stood in line, smiled at the mom with the baby.....and ached.  I watched the father scold his little girl for wandering off.  I heard the exasperation, the tiredness in his voice. And I ached.  Because I would love to be tired and exasperated by my little bratty girl. 

My eyes kept drifting over to the baby girl section where I bought the last item of clothing for Rachel - a pink sweater to dress her body for burial.  I am so glad that I could do that for her.....and I remember how I walked through that store when I was pregnant, wondering if I would even get to dress her up in a pretty dress.  And I thanked God again for the gift of knowing her, even for so short a time.  She made me feel so alive, even though I felt sad sometimes too. 

Just another day out on the town....

And I wonder - who else do I see around me, walking around with hurts in their heart - that are unseen?  There is so much more than meets the eye.  It helps me have understanding, it helps me be a little more patient when someone doesn't respond the way I think they should.  Maybe someone else has just seen something that reminds them of their loved ones....their 'orange soothers' and they are speechless too.....

God, thank-you for never leaving my side today.  You were right there.  You are right here when the tears come and I think...you are crying with me....

I feel like I can almost hear my Grandpa Kornelsen singing this song...."What a friend we have in Jesus! All our sins and griefs to bear.....Are we weak and heavy-laden, Cumbered with a load of care? Precious Savior, still our refuge—
Take it to the Lord in prayer.......In His arms He’ll take and shield thee, Thou wilt find a solace there.

When she was really little....1 or 2 months old

"You are precious to me." says the LORD.  (I just read that in 1 Peter this morning but I can't remember the verses) It is so comforting to me, to know that she (and we too) are treasured by Him. 

Three months Later

Today marks the third month anniversary of Rachel's death.   


Some friends have said that things seemed to get a bit easier around this time.  In some ways, I know this has been true for us.  But in other ways, things have gotten more difficult too.  My emotions seem so erratic, so powerful.  Sometimes they frighten me with their intensity.  I am so angry sometimes, and so intensely sad.  Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to sit through a worship service again and not worry that I am going to 'lose it' in front of everyone.  (and I don't generally cry easily so that's un-nerving for me in itself) And then I wonder - shouldn't church be a safe place to weep? Maybe even profusely? Maybe it's my own pride that causes me to look for the all the escape exits before I sit down...and my own pride that keeps me from showing what is really inside me.  Because that mess scares me too sometimes.  I do know that it is such a relief to be with people who are ok with my tears.  Because all I really want is just for someone to sit with me when I fall apart.  I know that God is faithful.  I believe that Rachel is safe with Him. But I miss her here....and as Dave says, there is a part of us that was awakened by her that will never be awakened again by anyone else.   


A friend sent me this picture of a sand sculpture that they saw in Vancouver last year.  "The mother with empty arms".  I don't think it needs more of a description. If you can zoom up, there are tears in her eyes too. 

I have had a really hard time writing again since Rachel died. I'm not quite sure why that is.  But the other day a thought struck me.  Maybe it's this place, the office, this chair that almost covers the exact spot where she died in Dave's arms.  I wondered if subconsiously, I don't want to be here, because of that memory.  And it still seems so very real sometimes. I wonder too if the thought of sitting here makes me feel a little trapped because I spent so many hours sitting here with Rachel, daunted by the prospect of leaving the house with her because things could 'turn' so quickly. (And when you're feeding a baby every half hour, there isn't much you can really get done anyway, right?) 


I was so grateful for the online friendships I made during that time and it was so good for me to have an outlet to process what was going on with Rachel and to feel your support through it.  I am an inward processor and even Dave said a number of times that he was glad for the blog because it helped him to get to know me better.  But I have to be honest here - the computer also became a source of conflict between Dave and myself because I didn't know when to stop.  It was my escape from alot of things. (when I couldn't escape outside) And I am learning to set some healthy boundaries again and that takes time.  This feels a little strange to say because I would love to have a chance to sit beside my little girl just once more....but I do *relish* my freedom to leave the house whenever I want.  And I *relish* the leisure to play with my kids, to laugh with them and with my best friend again.  So you may see less of me in the future.  I am thinking of having a 'turn off the computer day' once a week and I will let you know when that is:)


I think another reason why I hesitate to write sometimes is because a part of me wonders if people are tired of hearing about my grief.  That's me talking, my own insecurities.  But sometimes, all it takes is one wayward comment to set us on a spiral of insecurity again, right?  A few days ago, I thought that I was ready to write again.  And so I went on this blog, read the great comments - and felt so encouraged and then I read the last one, by an anonymous writer. It was a criticism of a comment made by a friend of mine, which mentioned that this (death of a child) is the hardest thing for a couple to go through.  The new comment read "How would you know what the hardest thing would be to go through until you are 80 years old?"  Really? Was that comment really necessary? Does it matter that I might one day experience worse griefs? Why minimize my pain now? Why do we have this incessant need to rate everyone's pain? My blog isn't a discussion panel. This is my life!  These were the thoughts going though my mind, among all the other stuff in my head.  And I realized that sometimes I am just tired of trying to explain away some comments, trying to twist it around to see the good intent.  I want to be honest about what this journey of grieving is like for us - but I feel a bit fragile these days.  And as I write that, I wonder if my comment will scare away the people that I don't want to make nervous by that comment.  And so I think, sometimes, just the need to always edit my words can be a little tiring, daunting even. 


But today, I felt that need to write again.  I wanted to write for myself.  And I wanted to share with those who care for us, what is going on so you can pray for us.  And I want those who are hurting to know that you are not alone.  And so when the mood strikes me, I will be here.  


ok....so Marriage after the Death of a Child: 


What is the most difficult about this journey of grief is realizing the toll that the stress and trials of the last few years have made on our marriage.  That doesn't mean we didn't ever laugh.  There was alot of beauty too and times of closeness but we didn't have the time to work through relational problems the way we could have, had Rachel been healthy.  We just wanted to "Get through it." This is why the Marriage Retreat was so good, so necessary for us.  It was such a relief to hear someone say that it is not unusual for parents who go through the sickness and death of a child, to struggle with the things we have.  It was a relief to be given the permission to grieve.  I think I expected us to be over the worst of it by now, and it makes me feel impatient with myself sometimes.  I want to run ahead and bypass all this - try and distract myself with things, instead of facing the losses and the messes.  But we need to GRIEVE in order to HEAL.  


We had three private sessions with the retreat leaders.  And I was kind of nervous about them. We haven't always had the best experiences with counselors before.  But these sessions were so helpful. Another thing we took away with us was the encouragement (or homework) to start dating each other again.  They said that for so long we have had to pour our energy into dealing with sad and serious stuff - to the extent that we have forgotten how to have fun together and enjoy knowing each other - and that now we need to direct our energy into having fun together and getting to know each other again.  So true....


So we are taking up the challenge!  Dave and I are taking turns planning dates. (and trying to keep it a secret from the other) The only rule is that it can't be a dinner and a movie.  This has been our fall-back for SO long.  And in Rachel's last year or so, we had to take Rachel with us everywhere so it usually ended up being dinner, and movie at home. So......time for a little more creativity!!!  


Any great date ideas???

Yes, we're home!

....and I think the jet lag is finally wearing off.  It is so good to be home again, if even for a little while.  Next week Dave and I will be at a marriage retreat!!! I'm not sure what to expect because we have never done this before but I am starting to look forward to it.  I think it is a good time for it too. While Berlin was amazing and we were really happy about spending time with Jenn and Paul in their home, it was also a pretty difficult time relationally for Dave and myself.  I have his permission to say that. (his suggestion actually) We might even write a post one day, together, about our time there and how the last few years of stress, grieving the loss of Rachel etc... has affected us.  (And I'm sure there was the normal stresses of being on vacation together too!) We are doing much better now and our three days in Prague on our own was really good for us.  But a whole week is even better! We are flying my mom out to take care of the kids. 

Both Dave and I are finding that the permanence of Rachel being gone is sinking in more and more. She has left us and she will not come back to us.  We will go to her.  And the reality of that is so hard sometimes.  I wonder if it will always feel like our family is incomplete.  Someday I might write more of how that is affecting us.  I also want to write more about our Berlin trip in general and I have tried a few times, but the words just aren't coming and I am not sure I know why.  So I will try again when we get back in a week!   

Happy 17th month bday Rachel!

Rachel would be 17 months old today.  Oh, I miss her.  I hated those spells and I do not miss the constant feedings but I do miss her soft skin, the way it felt to hold her, her smiles and sparkly eyes.  The other day I walked by the sleepers in Costco and saw the last one that I dressed her in, for the hearse.  I felt what it was like to hold her in that sleeper.  How can I explain that kind of hurt? Dave said the other day that now we have a tether to heaven, and we will never be the same again.  I know in my heart that this is true, that our loss is strangely a gift as well.  A gift that will help to keep me alive and open to God. But sometimes it is still hard to accept that she couldn't stay with us - that her health would have been the better gift.  I know it doesn't help anything, but I imagine what it would be like to have Rachel sitting with us at the table, babbling by now, seeking her older sibling's attention.  Oh, what joy it would be to have her here...but healthy and well.  


A friend sent me a reading (from her Book of Prayer) while we were in Berlin.  There was a line in it that struck a deep cord in me.  Here it is:


Woman
Mom
Mary of rattling tea cups and homemade cookies
Mary of open door, open hearth, open heart
Queen of warmth and hospitality
Mary of varicose veins and chapped hands
Strong, fragile woman
Vulnerable, unshakable woman
Believer in love, reality, people, God
Back stooped and ear bent in listening to life's stories and to the giver of life
Stubborn fidelity to life in the face of death
Unflinching spirit that stares light into the darkness of the tomb
Heart that breaks and pours love over the thirsty earth
Missing her son when he is gone to another home
Looking up in the sudden expectancy of hearing his voice
Smiling wryly to herself and waiting
Waiting, gestating the kingdom once more
Growing in expectancy of second birth - this time her own
The moment of reunion rushes to meet her with open arms
And their laughter rocks the universe
Sending happy shock waves to echo in our dreams
Tugging our reluctant mouths into smiles of hope and anticipation.
Amen, it will be so, Amen.
- from Gathering the Fragments by Edward J. Farrell


Isn't that so beautiful? Are you too, longing for the laughter that rocks the universe, that cosmic reunion? And somehow reading that, thinking of what is coming, helps me to wait.  It helps me to be patient. Because it is coming, I can live now.
 
Happy Birthday Rachel!