I am okay

Tonight, after I tucked in my two little girls for the last time this year, I took down all our Christmas decorations and trees. It was a quick and mostly painless task. 

I’ve actually been putting it off since Christmas Day. I imagined the same crippling emotions taking over me that usually do. 

While I’m a little sad this holiday is over, I realized something. 

I am okay. 

This is the first year, since losing Aubrey, I readily decorated for Christmas. In fact, my trees were up weeks before Christmas Day. Normally, I wait until the week before, as  it’s a miserable job for me. It includes putting up and decorating Aubreys little tree with all her own ornaments. It always hurt so much to do it without her help and knowing she wouldn’t be here to admire it every day. 

One early day this December, Christmas music was playing on my radio and I purposely didn’t change the station. It wasn’t angry or annoyed, hearing it. In fact, I sang along and even danced a little. My girls loved it. I loved it! I felt JOY and LOVE. I felt alive again. 

Every day we played as much Christmas music as we could and danced our hearts out. It filled my soul with a happiness that hasn’t been there in ages. I was able to celebrate with my girls like I always did with Aubrey. I was no longer the Scrooge Mama that I had been the five years before. I praised Jesus for opening my heart and my eyes. 

I know it seems simple for everyone else to get this next lesson. However, for a bereaved parent, it’s not always so easy. 

The Lord showed me that Aubrey wasn’t sad that she’s not here for Christmas. She doesn’t miss us. She isn’t sitting around Heaven watching a clock. She is in the most perfect place possible with God and Jesus and all the people she’s ever loved that are fortunate enough to be there with her. Time is not there. Sadness, loneliness, pain, regret don’t exist in Heaven. Will we all rejoice the day we are reunited? I absolutely believe that!! But, until that day, I’m only failing as all my kids’ Mama if I sit around feeling sorry for myself. I’m taking away from the kids who are here by not celebrating the life we have together. 

I don’t pretend life without Aubrey will be easy all the time. I may not go an hour after writing this blog post before I fall apart again. I’m human after all. The void will always be there. Part of me will be hurt and sad and forever changed because I lost my child. 

What I know now—and will remind myself in every hard time—is that God chose me to be that amazing girl’s Mama. He gave me 6 years, 2 months and 12 days with her here. He loves me so much that he sent His own son to die on the cross. He did that so that we would have LIFE and the promise that, as His children, eternity in Heaven is ours. We will be with God, Jesus and all our loved ones in Heaven forever. 

Soon and very soon....

Until then, I plan to live a life full of LOVE and laughter and make memories while I can. 

Happy New Year to you all. 💜

Happy 2nd Birthday, girls!

Three years ago, I would have tried anything to get pregnant (and I did). Surgery, acupuncture, herbal teas, yoga, diets, you name it. It all seemed hopeless. Then, in November of 2014 a miracle happened...two actually. We were given a 3-5% chance for conception of one child. We were shocked and terrified and happy to learn we were expecting twins. We thanked God for these babies. 

To say time flies when you're having fun is an understatement. We somehow blinked and two years were behind us. 

From tiny NICU preemies to healthy, smart, funny and wild toddlers...just like that. 

Every moment is a learning experience. Each day is filled with crazy good--and difficult--times. I wouldn't trade these two girls for anything. 

Carson Laine and Julia Ann have given this life new meaning and purpose. We are all filled with so much joy because they are ours. This walk isn't always easy but it's better than it should be and far richer than we deserve. 

I call myself blessed to be their Mama and I cannot wait to see what's in store for us all. 

Happy 2nd Birthday, girls. LOVE💜

The Beauty of The Beast

My husband took me to see a movie yesterday, as part of an early birthday date.  We rarely see a movie in the theatre. It's expensive and, with five kids and my husband's grueling work schedule, we don't get the opportunity often (it's been TWO years since we have had a childless date). I very much wanted to see the movie The Shack but I'm smart enough to know my "ugly cry" response to it needs to stay at home so that was off the list. So, we went to see Beauty and The Beast, instead. I saw the original in theatre and wanted to experience the remake the same way.

Going in, I saw my aunt, two cousins and their two daughters. I smiled at how sweet it was, watching the youngest--who is three--going to see her first movie. It didn't hit me until I was sitting by myself in the partially-lit room,  alone as my husband went to get concessions, that this choice may be equally emotionally dangerous, for me. 

It dawned on me that it's been over five years since I saw a movie with Aubrey. Would she want to come see this with me if she was still here? Absolutely. Then, frantically, I tried to remember watching the original version with her and I couldn't. Blank. I had a mini meltdown realizing another small memory of her had faded because couldn't hold on to it tight enough. It happens this way, for me, a lot. 

I got myself mostly back together by the time my husband came back. 

It was a beautifully made movie. I saw so much of my girl in the main character, Belle. She was beautiful, unique and so strong. She loved reading, animals, people and adventure. 

She knew she didn't belong in the life she was in. She was going places! 

The Beast, I saw as a metaphor for my grief. Beautiful and awful all at the same time, there are layers, both good and bad. It takes loving me through the bad to reap the rewards of the good. When the Beast freed Belle, to return to her father, he knew he truly loved her and that love would haunt him for the rest of his life. Ironically, he had to let her go because he loved and wanted her there so much. 

I can relate. 

There is so much joy, and pain, in loving someone who is a memory. The beauty of who Aubrey was and the impact her life made is incredible. While it can be beyond devastating that I don't have her here with me, there is hope in the promise that I will spend eternity with her in Heaven. When that day comes, this painful life will be like a blur. 

So, I go on another day...another year, now, knowing that I am blessed to have had her as my own and I will be with her again. She is living in complete perfection. I could never want anything better for her. 

Soon and very soon, my girl...Mama is coming. 

The Many Sides of Grief

Grief is a cancer. It lives inside of it's host, wreaking havoc and taking over. It sucks the joy and fun out of life. It ages you...wears you out. 

Grief is an active threat. It doesn't back down. It's sneaky. It cannot be outsmarted or outrun. 

Grief is the ultimate opponent. Grief does not play nice. 

Grief, itself, cannot be seen but it's effects are very evident. 

Grief is also a gift. 

I often say, the bigger the love, the bigger the loss. I fully believe that. The more we love a person, the more we feel their absence. It's a blessing and a curse but--for me--it's worth every single bit of pain to have loved and have been loved. 

Losing something that is more important to you than most anything in your world makes it much easier to measure the value of all other things. You quickly realize who and what matter to you. You spend less time trying to impress others and more time with the ones closest to you. You stop "sweating the small stuff" and just let it go! You know to savor each moment that is good. 

Grief makes you tough, in good ways and bad. When you know that you have experienced possibly the worst thing imaginable, it makes other things seem survivable. 

In a less appealing way, it toughens you where you push people away. The good news in that is it shows you who is willing to love you in spite of the walls you put up. If someone is willing break the walls down (or better yet, climb inside with you) they're worth having around. 

Grief is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. Through these last five years, I've grown and changed in ways I never imagined possible. I have met others walking the same path. I've lost many who aren't willing to take on the burden. I have learned to survive in ways that others may not approve of or understand. What I know above all of that is that it's all temporary. This life...this pain...it's not here to stay. One day, God will call me to be with my girl. Until then, I'm going to try to trust Him and love who I can, when I can, the best I can. It's all any of us can handle if you think about it. I'm sorry for anyone that doesn't fall into one of those categories at any given time. I never mean to hurt others. Please forgive me if I have. 

So, do your best to be kind to everyone. We are all walking through something in our own little worlds. LOVE

A Glimpse

I just want to be real here. People sometimes need a peek at the nasty, ugly side of a life I pray they never have to live themselves. 

I was awake all night trying to block out so much pain and horrific flashbacks of Aubrey's death.  

These sleepless nights/nightmares begin happening every year, about this time (this is the week of her birthday). Generally, it starts creeping up just before Thanksgiving and continues to build through Christmas up until her birthday has passed, three weeks later. It's the snowball effect, building size and insurmountable force. The harder I try to fight it, and ignore it, the harder it finally hits me. 

It takes an incredible amount of energy to wade through grief, on any given day. It's exhausting. Holidays are the hardest. Everything around you is happy and buzzing and wonderful while you're dragging around a heart that feels like it is 100 pounds of pure pain. The self-torture and guilt make it all worse. You beat yourself up for hurting so badly, retreating from everything, acting out and not being able to share the happy, lightheartedness of those around you. You know life is good. You can feel so delighted one minute and then grief knocks you right back on your knees the next. It's the worse version of tug-of-war you could ever play. 

The harder you fight the pain, the bigger it is when it catches up with you. There is no escaping the nasty, monster that is grief. You cannot outrun it. You cannot be so happy in life that it will not find its way to you. No day will ever be so incredibly great that the darkness of night won't still be there. 

Likewise, there should never be a low, dark place that some light can't get in. 

You MUST learn to allow yourself to feel your way through all of it. There's no moving around it. It has to be waded through. Fighting the bad--and even the good--is in vain. 

While it hurts so badly that sometimes I'm convinced I cannot survive, I know that's just not true. As much as I have begged God to allow it to, grief will not kill me. 

I always say the bigger the LOVE, the greater the void. To me, that means that this absence and pain is so great because my love for my girl was even greater. I will never stop missing and wanting her just as I will never stop loving her. While her body no longer lives here, her LOVE and spirit always will. You see, love doesn't die. It's in our hearts and our minds...our history and memories and in everything we do. It stays with us forever until we are reunited in Heaven.  

Which reminds me of the most important part. Our God. His grace and mercy are immeasurable. He cares about us so much that He allows us to have this LOVE which we couldn't possibly deserve. His love is greater than all else but He gives us the love for and from others also. Family and friends fill our lives with so much to be thankful for. It could never take away grief's pain but it sure helps. If you're still breathing, there is hope and a purpose for your life. 

I read an article today that hit me hard. A mother that lost her brand new daughter to anencephaly. She was worried that she wouldn't want to share her with anyone when she was born but something happened in that moment. She said she was proud of her. 

That may not resonate with everyone but it hit me hard and took me back to March of 2012, when Aubrey was in the hospital. It reminded me that, through all my pain, I have never felt anything other than extreme pride over my daughter. In life, she was a perfect child full of extraordinary LOVE. She loved everyone and everything she ever saw. She was beaming with the light of God. In death, she saved the lives of three other people through organ donation. Her death also brought people to the Lord, which is the most important way to save a life. I know for a fact that Aubrey's life and death brought families closer together and closer to God. Heaven will be a fuller place because of my girl. Nothing could make me more proud. 

God allowed me continued life and renewed love with my sons and, later, new love and life with my husband and our twin daughters. Every day is a blessing and a reminder to live and LOVE more like Aubrey Laine did. 

So, you see, there is no absolute

emotion in grieving. There's a happy and sad to it all. It's waves of high highs and rock bottom lows. Some days flow beautifully and some seem impossible to survive. We pace ourselves, knowing this is a life sentence. One day, when my race is complete, God will call me home and my girl will be waiting to welcome her Mama. All the joys and the pains of this life on Earth will be a thing of the past. Eternity is waiting. 

Pray for bereaved parents. It's the hardest part of life I could ever imagine. LOVE people well and lift burdens wherever you can. A smile and a supportive ear and shoulder go a long way. 

Soon and very soon.....💜