Happy Birthday Hudson

As much as I prepared mentally and emotionally for last week, it took me just as much by surprise. Who knew anniversaries and first birthdays could be so hard? I didn't.

I answered the "how are you doing" question fairly bluntly; at least for those that I thought could handle my answer. I have a tendency to respond to questions in a way that gives me a deer in the headlights look in return.

"It feels like the same pain and grief, only this time there isn't the shock."

A little dose of shock makes anything a tad easier to handle!

I was quite happy to be able to recognize little Hudson, and thrilled that my friends, family and people I didn't even know that well were remembering him that day too. I felt loved and I felt like Hudson was loved. What more could a momma want?

Hudson's birthday of course marked the beginning of my journey towards Hudson's Bands of Hope. I left the hospital that day wearing a hospital band that I had NO clue would become so important. Honestly, helping others was the furthest thing from my mind at the time, but I believe God began weaving the passion for this ministry into my heart even then.

I am forever grateful that God saw fit to use Hudson's short life to impact others. I sure am proud of my little boy!

Forever Faithful One

The sweetest old man came up to me to ask about the bracelets. I didn't know him and was a bit confused as to what interest he might have in this ministry. I listened as he explained why he wanted a bracelet...

"My wife and I lost a baby boy over 60 years ago. Sometimes I come home and she's sitting in the chair crying over him even today."

My heart broke for this man and woman. He still watches as his wife grieves a loss over 60 years old! He assured me how much the bracelet would mean for her because she doesn't really have anything to remember the baby by.

When does the healing come? Does it? What is it supposed to look like? How long does grief last?

Gosh, I wish I knew.

My very short experience with this has left me with my own thoughts...

There's never a point in time that you are completely "healed" and grief can last forever. The good news is some healing does come and grief changes shapes, forms and appearances. Literally.

Peace from the good Lord above is your best bet. It's what I've leaned on, clung to, prayed for and cherished in my moments of severe weakness.

The situation never becomes less sad or OK. Time and peace are what make a difference.

I have a pretty simple mind so comparing and contrasting makes a lot of sense to  me. Just like I was in elementary all over again...

Scar tissue will eventually cover that ugly battle wound and it will become less evident over time. But if that old wound gets agitated just the right way it can hurt and hurt bad.



My heart sunk into my stomach as I was unexpectedly  reminded, just now, of the lyrics to the song that held me together nearly a year ago.

"Even if the healing doesn't come
 Life falls apart
 and dreams are still undone
 You are God... You are good...
 Forever Faithful One
 Even if the healing doesn't come..."

I know I've shared this song on here before, but I had to again.

The words meant a lot to me then as I realized my life and dreams had fallen apart. Now, not only do the lyrics take me back to the emotion, it's another set of words that strike me...

"Even if the healing doesn't come"

A few days shy of a year later and wow. The healing really doesn't come. I guess I never thought then about what this song would mean to me in a year's time.

"You are God... You are good...
Forever Faithful One"

That is the line that holds it all together. Whether right now or 20 years down the road it is those words that will never change in significance.

No profound thoughts... just my heart.

In the next month or so I anticipate my mind and heart to drift often with heaviness to thoughts about Hudson's upcoming birthday. I know it will be this way because it already has been. I've not only prepared my husband and calendar for the anniversary of  "the week" but I am already preparing my heart. As much as is possible I suppose.

You see, yesterday marked one month from the day that I said hello and good-bye, the day that a wheel-chair and the dizziness of my mind lead me from that hospital room to my car. I was supposed to just go home and figure out life. A large portion of my heart still hasn't found its way home from that birthing room. Though the sheets have been changed and the floors mopped they've felt my tears and somewhere my sorrow still lingers. As far as I know, it will never leave.

Right now my heart knows the days better than my head. My subconscious grieves as I near this bitter anniversary.

So in no time at all I'll be faced with September 10^th,11^th, and 12^th. The day I anxiously went to my ultrasound and left with that horrible news, the day I labored to birth Hudson and then the day that he was born.

What am I supposed to do with these dates one year later? Part of me could just skip out on September all together this year. The other part of me wants to embrace it just like I do the month of May, when I met my first born.

My thoughts have ping-ponged back and forth with what to do and what not to do. This past Sunday I got it figured out.

I am going to "celebrate" Hudson's birthday.

Call me crazy. That's ok.

I celebrate everyone else's and I can't stand the thought of not throwing Hudson a birthday "party". Sure, this will take a different form than normal, but that's my baby boy and that's his birthday.

 

For me, avoiding obvious pain triggers seems to intensify the pain. Most people would likely suggest that someone in my shoes not encounter or partake in those things that cause pain.

But ignoring it doesn't make it disappear. It doesn't make me feel any better. What I honestly think is that it makes the other person feel better not to see me upset. If you've lost a baby or a loved one at all, you know what I mean.

I take pride in Hudson. I take pride in his little tiny life and what he's accomplished. My heart smiles to hear someone else say his name. I want to show him off. I want his name to be common to those who know him.

Needless to say when his headstone finally got set a few weeks ago I was crying tears of sadness, joy and pride. I never anticipated how I would feel when I first saw it in person. My baby's name on a headstone. Of course we were sad but we smiled too. We were proud! Just as if Hudson had slept through the night for the first time or just taken his first steps I called my family and so did Brady. We wanted to show off our son.

The moment took me back because I realized I've never had that proud, excited, mom moment where I get to show my baby off.

And unexpectedly this was it!

Our family was there as soon as we called and for the first time, I got to show off my Hudson with pride.

 

Ways to Remember

I know from my own experience, and talking to countless other mommies that acknowledgement is sometimes all we need. Many people fear that mentioning something will only bring up pain, but that is not true! I feel so proud when someone randomly says something about my little Hudson!

I'm positive that I am not only speaking for myself here, but also for the other moms who wish desperately to hold and know their children.

 Even if you don't know what to say to that person who's just experienced loss, not saying anything speaks loud and clear and hurts worse. Just make a simple acknowledgement. You truly don't know how much that will mean.

I've compiled a list of some things that Brady, Dawson and I have done to daily remember Hudson. This list also includes several things that others have done or gotten for us. Please take these ideas and run with them. For you family members and friends that are searching for a way to provide comfort, many of the items on this list you can do!

• Include a framed writing of your baby's name and birthdate/due date with the rest of your   family photos.
  
• Donate to a local charity on behalf of your baby.
• Buy Christmas presents for an under privileged child in honor of your baby. Feel free to search for a child that would be about the same age as your baby or the same gender.
• Write letters to your baby.
•  Create a photo album. You may have very few pictures, but you can include anything that reminds you of your pregnancy or baby.
• Hang up a Christmas stocking for your baby with the rest of the family's. Add a note/letter to it every year. Brady and I actually took Hudson's stocking and letters to his grave and read them aloud.
  
• Make or purchase a special Christmas ornament to represent your baby.
• Fill out a baby book. There are actually baby books designed for angel babies. Just do a Google search for "baby books for angel babies". There are many to chose from!
• Openly talk with your other children (if you have them) about their brother or sister. Every time we pass by a cemetery Dawson will say "Hi Hudson". Anytime Heaven is mentioned, he reminds me that Hudson lives there. Your kids are never too young to learn about their siblings.

Please share with us, what have you done in memory of your baby?

Reality Attacks

Instant tears today as the sweet lady on the other end of the phone says, "So you have a history of perinatal death and pregnancy loss. Is that correct?"

Woah.

 Not that what she said was incorrect. Those facts are just so harsh. I did manage to hide my tears and cracking voice from this stranger.

She trailed on with what she was saying as I sat... frozen, trying to process how I, of all people could be classified that way. I can't hardly read the words I just typed without shedding a tear. Will these facts ever quit taking my breath away?

Amazing how you can be about your daily grind and there it is... out of nowhere, an attack, an ambush of reality.  You better bet, for the rest of the day my mind will be lingering on these thoughts... still trying to figure out how I am that person.

I would like to know, what are the reality checks that sink you deep into emotion? Please feel free to comment below. I am sure that we all have more in common than we think.

Thank you for letting me "journal" to you today.

When life falls apart...

It was just one year ago since I first learned that I was pregnant with little Hudson...

 

To discover you are pregnant is quite an emotional experience in itself. It is a good thing I didn't know at the time what exactly that pregnancy would give birth to.

 

Yea, I carried a baby and delivered a child. Although it was absolutely not the way I would've planned it, I am thankful to God for many of the things that have taken place since this day one year ago.

 

Sure, on the outside my life looks identical to the way it did the day that I nervously read the positive on that pregnancy test. But, in all reality, my life has changed more in the last year than at any other time.

 

 I was pregnant with a baby, a hope, a dream, a desire that seemed sure to be fulfilled. With a baby on the way, our house nearly sold, another one picked out, and a family vehicle in the works, I was proud and naïvely confident that my own plans were going to succeed. Life seemed to be moving forward just like it should. I can say with confidence, I have never been more wrong about anything.

 

Ever.

 

See, God saw fit to take those desires and plans and one-by-one allow me lose my carnal hold of them.

 

So, what did that pregnancy test mean?  It meant I was about to give birth to life's darkest, most difficult and painful season. It meant my whole world would spiral out of control as I grasped to catch a piece of it and keep it within my control, my reach. 

 

What's better, it meant that the very core of who I am would change forever. My priorities would take new order, my world view a new shape, and my faith deeper roots. I gave birth to the reality of who I really am and a better understanding of my all Sovereign Savior.

 

Today, I live and breathe differently because of the severe disappointment and growth that I've been forced into. My hope is that people don't see me as a victim of life's unfortunate circumstances. I've become a student to my own shortcomings and the plans that God has mapped out for me. For this, I am eternally grateful.

 While I would do anything to be in the home that my heart once envisioned and hold my sweet baby boy, I've surely learned by now that it is not my own desires that are important. To really understand that my life belongs to God makes it so much easier to let Him be the keeper of my dreams. To surrender every aspect of my life and heart over to Him has to be one of the hardest things to learn, but in the end, it's worth the lesson.

 

If I can be honest about all of this, then I guess I have to be honest and admit that it all still hurts. Not just losing my baby, but losing everything I put my heart into for so many months. It still stings. Bad.

 

I wouldn't even know how to pretend that I understand why God would let all of this disappointment happen. In the last year I've had more taken from me than what's been restored. I don't get it, but I would sure like to.

 

I find myself, even now, searching for answers. But really, answers don't matter.

Ok, yea I do think they would provide me with a little more peace. But Jesus Christ has to be my answer. When nothing else makes sense, I know that He does.

 

It was the week after "the week". My husband was back to work, the burial service was done and I was home. Alone. Just as it had every other day, emotion swept over me the moment I finally allowed it to. I sat on my loveseat in the living room after putting Dawson down for his nap. I had my journal and pen in hand. I began to write about how angry I was that a loving God could allow his child to go through so much disappointment.

 

I was angry that seemingly everything had been taken from me.

 

What I understand now, more than ever, is that it wasn't mine to begin with.

 

As my pen scribbled on the tear stained pages of my journal, a song began to play on the radio that stopped me dead in my tracks. My heart froze for a moment as I realized the God of Heaven was speaking to me. I was astonished. Every lyric of that song found its way into my heart and mind as an answer. Just the answer I needed.

 

Today, this song still makes my heart race as it brings up such fresh emotion.

 

"Even If" by Kutless

Break Your Silence

Ever felt a sense of shame for your situation?

A recent conversation often comes to mind. It was a simple, short conversation but it had a huge impact on me. Another mom probably my age or a tad older asked me how many children I have.

 "I have one here and two in Heaven. How many do you have?"

 "I have four."

She then turned around, ending the conversation right there. Was she was put off by my reply? A few seconds later I see her turn back around to me…

 "I have one in Heaven too."

That was it. At that moment I decided to make my experimental reply to that question a permanent one. You see, this mom felt safe to acknowledge her baby in Heaven because I first acknowledged mine.

Pardon me to be so blunt, but if your mom or dad dies, do you pretend as if they never existed? No. So why should you if your baby dies during pregnancy or even shortly after? I see where this topic is so off limits in our society. It is cast out as inappropriate or uncomfortable. No wonder moms don't mention their children in Heaven. They are afraid to.  I believe that well intentioned people can say things to inadvertently inflict feelings of shame on mothers who've had pregnancy loss. Comments like, "well, at least you already have one." or "You can always have more." Only create shame and diminish the worth of their feelings or worse, their child's life.

Don't be ashamed! No matter where or when your loss was, you are still a mommy to a baby.

Maybe I'm just different. My husband and I had another loss in February. This was a very very early loss. No, I don't feel fear in acknowledging that loss. Yes, I do sort of dread the awkward silence it causes when I tell someone that I have two babies in Heaven. Possibly this acknowledgement comes easy to me though, because Hudson was my first loss. One that we couldn't hide. 

Isn't it worth it?

I have been amazed by the number of women that I've crossed paths with in life that have experienced loss. What’s even more amazing, is that I had no clue until I had my loss.

Don't you think that the loneliness of grief could be alleviated just a bit to know that countless other women have been there? Let me challenge you to boldly claim your baby.

I'm far from being a trend-setter, but I'm ready to set one. I will break my silence. I will see to it that other women have an opportunity to break theirs.

Will you?