“Be not afraid, only believe” by Bryan

For some reason I have been feeling the need to write down some of my thoughts. I have only shared my feelings with people in person, when it comes up. I am sometimes envious of Christy and the female nature that is so open to buoy each other up when they are having emotional times. Keep it up ladies!!

It has been 4 years since Jane passed away. She would be 5 years old now. The farther away from that day it gets, the more I get used to the new normal of living without her. I sometimes think about her more and sometimes less. But lately she has been on my mind a lot; maybe because of her recent birthday and angelversary today; maybe because of the many recent disasters (hurricanes, earthquakes, and mass shootings) and the pain that I can now feel for people that suffer tragedies of one sort or another.

I was recently moved to tears when reading in Mark chapter 5. Jesus had just arrived by ship after calming the sea and healing a man full of a legion of devils, and arrived to a crowd of people. And this is where my tears start: Jairus, a chief ruler of the jewish people, comes to Jesus and falls to His feet. (I can hear the trembling in his voice because I have been there) "My little daughter lieth at the point of death: I pray thee, come and lay thy hands on her, that she may be healed; and she shall live." (I remember my prayers having similar language that Saturday morning as doctors were working on Jane). Here is the amazing part of Jairus' story and my secret to handling losing Jane. Jesus went with him. The Savior was by his side. The Savior could see Jairus needed him. Even when people came and said that his daughter was dead and it was too late. People also laughed when Jairus put his faith in Christ. Jairus could stand all that because the Savior was with him. There were probably thoughts of doubt mixed with sadness, grief, pain, but still having hope. The Savior's words ring powerful "Be not afraid, only believe." I too, have also felt similar powerful feelings that day of losing Jane, and in subsequent days, weeks, and years.  Christ took Jairus and his wife and a couple of the apostles to witness a sacred event: raising their beloved daughter back to life.

I do miss Jane so much but because of the Savior's touch, she will live again. Just as Jairus and his wife were able to hold their daughter alive after she died, I too will get to hold Jane, because “He is risen”. Christ has overcome death and pain for everyone, no matter the tragedy you are going through. We are all living a small segment of an eternal journey, a journey that will be fair, a journey that though we suffer so much pain, we will have unimaginable joy because of Jesus Christ. If you too are having a painful experience, "Be not afraid, only believe."

Happy (almost) 5th Birthday Jane!

It's been a while since I've posted on here. I guess I haven't needed this release as much as I used to. I am so very blessed to be surrounded by people with big, compassionate hearts. I don't need this space as much anymore because I have people who ask me about Jane and let me talk about her.

My grief, however, will always be mine. Sometimes all I can do to get relief from my grief is to just dive into it head first. Grief can't be rerouted to a more convenient time. Grief isn't a race to get to the finish line, it's just part of who I am now. It's part of my everyday. I do dishes, help with homework, kiss my husband good morning and carry a heavy heart. Everyday. “Hi, I am Christy Clark. I am a wife, mom, Mormon, daughter of God and a grieving mother.”

Jane’s 5th birthday is next week and I'm starting to feel that anvil on my heart return. The knot in my stomach and cry in my throat. I wish so much we could be having a princess or shopkins or rainbow-unicorn-mermaid party. I wish I was buying a new dress to wear with matching boots. I wish I could braid her hair really cute and special for her big day when she is a whole hand old.
Instead I will slow down my pace, pray extra hard this week, attend the temple and try to feel her close to me. I will love her brothers and have more patience for them. I will share the gospel with anyone who is willing to listen because it is what brings me deep and meaningful peace. My faith is my comfort. Through my efforts of study and prayer, I have had beautiful and sacred experiences that I know were given to me by a loving Heavenly Father. These are the gifts I can give to my little Eliza Jane this year.

Happy Birthday baby girl!

Jane's 3rd Angelversary

With Jane's 3rd Angelversary next week, November 16th, we will be doing our annual #ElizaJaneLove day of service. I am going to try and attach the printable card below for everyone to print off on their home printer, or again with the 4x6 option to print off at any photo center.

Make sure to share what you do on Facebook, Instagram or just email me privately and use the hashtag #elizajanelove so we can see her light and love spread and influence the world!

And a preemptive THANK YOU for doing this. When people ask, "What can I do?", "Let me know if I can do anything."

This is it!! You may not understand how huge it is to see Jane remembered in your life and the life of strangers. I know she will be nearby everyone who serves in her honor. THANK YOU!

Grief Armor

Jane’s 3rd Angelversary is next week, November 16th. I never know how this day will go. In the past,  I have ranged from feeling pure joy because of the love and peace I am given to utter despair and emptiness.

In the last couple days my grief has felt like a suit of armor weighing me down. I can still move, but it's slow and heavy. I feel like a weight is on my chest and shoulders making it harder to breathe. Everything takes 3 times longer to do. Think, eat, speak, move....everything. My head is foggier. My “grief armor” has got me down more than usual.

My grief armor is also my protector. The breastplate protects my heart from well meaning questions like, “How many kids do you have?”, “What are their ages?” “Just 3 boys? You gonna try for that girl?”

But I can take this armor off, sometimes I can choose when and where I want it on. Somedays it consumes me unwelcomingly. Most of my days are filled with real joy and happiness. But occasionally my grief armor puts its heavy self and my life, mind and heart and all I can do is let it protect me and wait it out. It may be for today, it may be all of November.

Two and half years closer....

I have recently noticed something strange about myself. When I read or hear stories of families that have lost a child- my first reaction is, “I could never imagine- how horrible for that family.” It takes about a second or two for my brain to click on and remember I am that mom, we are that family.

Over the last 2 ½ years we have learned to live with our heart in our hands and an angel in heaven. We never stop talking about her- Jane is never forgotten, ever! But sometimes my grief is.

And grief is such a beautiful gift. It's strong and can consume you in bitterness and sadness, but it also helps you remember and keeps you alive! It's this incredibly strong painful yet healing emotion.
I am torn in how I feel about slowly moving away from my grief. On the one hand- I recognize it is a blessing to not always hurt so much. But on the other hand- I miss not thinking of her every second of every day. I want to have her in my CONSTANT thoughts. She is probably in my hourly thoughts- but not every second anymore.

In the beginning days, weeks and months after Jane died every minute of everyday was gut-wrenching, heart-breaking, brain-searing, eye-watering and anxiety-inducing. And now I only have moments every week or so that feels like a sucker punch to the gut. It's just part of my life now and I have learned, for the most part, how to smile when I want to scream and how to laugh when I want to cry. 2 ½ years closer to eternity…..

My GIRL

I don't think it's any secret I like girly things. I like shoes, dresses, bows and braids. I legit own an adult sized Cinderella costume (long story). The day I found out I was having a girl I went straight to Baby Gap and bought a dress. And then matching shoes. And made a bow. I love girly things. 

The hardest reminders for me that my only GIRL is gone are the ridiculously adorable girl sections in every store. The darling bows, shoes and ruffles . I have to take the long way around Target and Old Navy to avoid the girl clothes sections. I want so so badly to dress up my baby girl, braid her hair and put a bow in that it physically hurts my heart just thinking about it. 

I realize these are vain and unimportant things, but they are what I miss about my Janey. 

I am so so blessed to still be able to kiss owies, sing songs to, read books with and snuggle my other children. And I cannot imagine my life without my 3 little boys and I love them fiercely. But amidst all the sword fights, poop jokes and wrestling- I wish their diva-princess, sweet and sassy little sister was around to pink things up a bit. 

Some days I want to spoil my nieces with dresses, bows and baby dolls. And sometimes (most times) the thought of my friends and family having their daughters and I don't have mine is too much and it makes me jealous and angry. Movies like the new Cinderella, Frozen and Sophia the First are cruel reminders of what I'm missing out on. I want MY GIRL! 

Almost two years later and I still grieve the unbought dresses and princess toys. I am still the mom who buried her only girl. 

See Ya Later's

For the last several months I have been mentioning to my close friends and family that I am having an irrationally difficult time with my little brother graduating from High School and leaving to serve a two year mission. 

I didn't understand my emotions and why they were so intense and mostly negative about Blake's growing up and moving on.

I finally realized what it is. Remember my post almost 1 year ago when my brother in law came home from his mission? And I didn't realize it- but that reunion felt like a small degree of what my reunion will be with Jane? Well, having to say another extended "see ya later" to Blake right now is bringing back those difficult feelings of unfamiliarity and loss. Albeit to a much smaller degree because I still get to see pictures, read updates and talk to Blake twice a year. Oh what I would give for an email update from Jane.

There are many similarities to these "see ya laters." I have to believe Jane was 'Called To Serve' just like Blake is. That she has a mission and purpose in her departure. I have to believe Jane is growing and becoming better and more mature from her experience just like I know Blake will. I am grateful for the spiritual example Jane and Blake are to myself and family. But it's still hard to let go. To not have these people we love available to talk to or text or be around whenever we want.

I have felt many times that the work Jane and Blake are involved in are the same. I know, know, Jane will be with Blake at times on his mission. She cares about Blake's missionary service just as much, if not more, than we do because I am sure she has a better understanding of it's importance. I hope that like I survived losing Jane and finding joy, I will be able to recognize the joy in losing Blake to our new Elder Wilcox.

"In light of what we know about our eternal destiny, is it any wonder that whenever we face the bitter endings of life, they seem unacceptable to us? There seems to be something inside of us that resists endings. Why is this? Because we are made of the stuff of eternity. We are eternal beings, children of the Almighty God, whose name is Endless¹³ and who promises eternal blessings without number. Endings are not our destiny."

The Gift of Grief

Since having a baby our life has been so preoccupied with diapers, barf, crying, soothing and no sleep that thinking of Jane has no longer been at the front of my thoughts all day, every day. In fact sometimes at the end of the day I will realize I only thought of her once or twice that whole day. You would think that would be a good thing. That it means having a baby has been healing and we can move on.. But it has actually been a hard adjustment. 

Last night, while driving to Costco, a song came on and grief hit me hard. I pulled over and a good-long-ugly cry. It felt good to have her near me again. To know she is still there and to know that I can still mourn her absence. That's when I realized what a gift grief is. 

As I have said in past blog posts, thinking of her constantly keeps her alive in our hearts and minds. It means that she was here, real and tangible. Grieving over her being gone, while so difficult, meant she lived and we loved. 

That may sound strange, masochistic maybe, and it is a complicated feeling that I have struggled to understand within myself let alone explain it to others. There is a quote that I have heard many versions of but basically it says, "To grieve means there was love. The only way to not feel grief is to not have loved."

 

I didn't understand that quote quite like I do now. Grieving is our physical way of showing and feeling love for a person lost. It is our bodies intense reaction to the heart-and-soul breaking loss of a loved one. It is painful, physically painful. But that pain is proof of love. 

I miss the heartache. The constant thoughts of Jane, happy and sad. I miss feeling her loss. 

Maybe a new baby meant we can move on and be happy again. But I am not ready to move on. I want to have the baby in my arms and Jane in my mind. Maybe that's asking to have my cake and eat it too. I am sure that either way, grieving of happy, Jane is near. So maybe that means it's okay to move on.

 This is new territory and I don't really know what the best direction is. It is a difficult place to be- stuck feeling like I need to move on but not wanting to just yet. 

"Jane"

After Jane passed, someone told me that they learned the best way to help someone grieving is to let them say the name of the one they lost. I have found this to be very true. Every opportunity I get to talk about Jane makes me smile. I feel happier and like 10 pounds of sadness was lifted from my shoulders. Others remembering her and saying her name has the same effect.

The further out we get in our grieving, the less and less I feel like I can talk about her. Like she is in past and it's too uncomfortable for others to bring her into the present. But she is MY present. She is my future. She is as much a part of my identity as my name is. Even more so actually, I can change my name. But I cannot ever change that Jane is my daughter.

Our mortal eyes may see this pregnant lady with two boys and think I am having my third child, but I am having my fourth. They may not see that I have already been blessed with a daughter, but I have. I have four kids; 3 sons and 1 daughter.

I am very fortunate to have many people in my life that let me talk about Jane in casual conversation. That when I talk about my children, or each pregnancy, each delivery, struggling with taking care of 3 kids, etc. they know that includes Jane. She is constantly on my mind and talking about her is just natural being her mom.

I have been more able to leave her out of our family count to passing strangers or in light-hearted conversations with people who don't know about her yet. It used to make me nauseous, my head spin and my skin would tingle when I was asked, "How many kids do you have?",
"Oh three boys! Maybe you will get a daughter next!",
 "So you just have the two?"

Whenever I am hit with those comments now (and yes it feels like a punch), I am able to just respond "yep" and leave it at that. With Jane in the forefront of my brain during the whole interaction. It is sometimes not worth the immensely awkward bomb of, "I have a daughter. She died a year ago."

Thank you for letting me talk about her. Thank you for letting me keep this blog going so I have a place to share her with everyone. Thank you for not making me move on because the death of a baby is just too hard to talk and hear about. Thank you for asking me questions about Jane.

Most especially, thank you for having moments of letting her touch your heart.  And when you feel appropriate sharing them with me. That is the greatest gift you can give me. Let her matter, let her change you for the better.

My Waiting Place

Last year I thought it would be the worst year of them all. Our wounds and pain were so raw and fresh and new. But there was a lot of learning, love and progression in that first year of losing Jane. Our lows were very low, but in contrast our highs were very high. 

I haven't written much on here lately because I haven't felt inspired by anything that I felt would be worthwhile. Like I said, last year we grew and learned a lot. I had a lot of things running through my brain all the time. 

I suppose it was naive to think last year was just one to get through and we would have made it through the worst of it all. 

Last year was trying to find our new normal. It was like trying to survive without a limb. It was a very difficult adjustment, but made easier through many inspiring tender mercies, many prayers in our behalf, many notes and texts and messages of love and concern.

This year is just as hard but in a different and unexpected way. I feel like I'm stuck in some painful waiting place. Just stagnant. Jane feels farther and farther in the past but also even further into our future. We are stuck somewhere in the middle waiting for her. Our wounds aren't as fresh but they are still there. Very much so. Our limb is still missing and we have learned to manage without it, but life is still painful and difficult. A part of me misses the pain, because at least I felt alive. And it was always followed by powerful moments of feeling Jane near. 

This murky waiting place is more numb. Less acute pain, but also less acute joy. 

I have noticed in the last few months I, again, am a person I don't recognize. This "waiting place" has left me unsure of who I am, what I am supposed to do and how to deal with this new me. Is it a phase that will get better with time or is my character different? These are the questions that take up most of my brain lately. How to find and force progression in myself and my life despite feeling stuck.

Navigating through grief is messy. There are so, so many levels of grief. Many twists, turns and backslides. It's hard to distinguish what is grief, what is depression, what is pregnancy, and what is just the dross of everyday life. This is my great battle right now. I suppose finding my "new normal" is going to take a lot longer than expected. 

I refuse to settle though. I refuse to believe this is how my life will be forever. I know better and I deserve better. One of my dearest friends shared with me how important remembering is. In these stagnant times of my life, I have a hard time seeing beyond a fog surrounding me. I can always remember who I was in the past. My experiences who made me who I am now. The powerful and sacred instances that my Savior and Heavenly Father were so close to my heart that I knew there was much more in this life yet to come. ""O, remember remember..."

Chasing Simplicity

A year ago we were trying to get through our first Christmas without Jane. It was difficult figuring out our new normal, our wounds of grief were fresh and painful. But we were still in our "bubble" of spiritual strength. You know that feeling around you after you have a new baby in your home? Our bubble was just like that but magnified. Heaven was around us and carrying us. We were surrounded by so much faith and love and service, both on earth and heaven. We felt so many people cheering us on. We had several packages coming every day, so many prayers and texts and gifts and visitors to help us feel buoyed up. Last Christmas was hard, but definitely our most spiritually centered one yet. 

I thought this year would be easier because I had survived one Christmas before. It was easier in the sense that Jane's death isn't so fresh and new. But this Christmas season was just a difficult as last. With neighbor treats to bake, Christmas cards to mail, gifts to buy, packages to wrap, several (Fourteen!!)  holiday parties to attend, suitcases to pack, hundreds of miles to drive and all the busy-ness that comes with Christmas. All of those things are nice and fun, but our simple Christ-centered Christmas we felt last year seemed to slip away too easily from us. 

I craved that last Christmas. We just cherished every quiet moment with our little  family and felt connected to Jane. This year in the rush of meeting all the Christmas to-do's it was hard to feel her near. 

The weeks leading up to Christmas were a whirlwind and I had to intentionally schedule time for myself to just be still. It was more difficult to find still moments then rushed moments. I was reminded of an incredible conference talk by President Uchtdorf several years ago. Finally, on Christmas evening, after getting to a point where I wasn't a person I recognized or enjoyed being. I lost my emotions to a pillow; I gave myself the time, even though I felt like I should be doing a half dozen other things, to read it again. The talk is called "Of Things That Matter Most." 

I realized this month how badly I NEED quiet, calm and relaxed time every day. I cannot handle an over scheduled life. It makes me, grumpy, stressed and anxious and I lose the closeness of the Holy Ghost that I desperately need to endure this life. I don't feel Jane near me often, but the only times I ever have felt her near were in those alone and quiet moments. There has never been a busy, franctic day when I have felt her close. There is a lesson to be learned in that. There are many opportunities for growth in our lives that we are missing out on because we have overscheduled ourselves. 

"Let’s be honest; it’s rather easy to be busy. We all can think up a list of tasks that will overwhelm our schedules. Some might even think that their self-worth depends on the length of their to-do list. They flood the open spaces in their time with lists of meetings and minutia—even during times of stress and fatigue. Because they unnecessarily complicate their lives, they often feel increased frustration, diminished joy, and too little sense of meaning in their lives." (President Dieter F. Uchtdorf "Of Things That Matter Most") 

It will be my personal goal this next year, and especially next December, to simplify life. To chase after simplicity because it is harder to find than busy. And for now I will enjoy one of my favorite months, January. 

When I was first married my Mother In Law taught me one of my favorite lessons. For years January was dreaded because all the fun holidays were over. She taught me January was the beautiful calm after the storm. A time to just be and reflect and enjoy life. I love January! "Of Things That Matter Most"

Reality check: I'm still the mom of an angel baby

Today is hard. So often people tell me I am so strong, I handle losing my baby with grace and faith. And it's always nice to hear that, but sometimes I just want people to see a reality check on my life. Some days, I just can't move. I can't focus. I want to lay in bed all day. I'm so emotionally exhausted that my body aches. I have strong boughts of anxiety wondering, "what will happen next?" I live in this reality where "it probably would never happen" really happens. Losing your daughter totally unexpectedly to an illness that still nobody can figure out is highly improbable, but it's my reality. 

I worry sometimes that other angel moms read posts I have written that are optimistic and feel like they are failing somehow. That they compare their bad days to my good days and think that they just aren't strong enough. That would be the opposite of what I ever wanted someone to learn from my experience. 

I am human, my heart breaks over and over and over, I cry hard, I wish she was here again, I get depressed seeing toddler girl toys that I won't get to buy my princess for Christmas this year. I have these days too. I'm not superhuman. 

So here is my reality check post. For myself, for other angel moms and for my friends. Unfortunately, I don't live graciously and thankfully every day. Today is just another day I can say that I survived. And not much more. 

The Power In Women

Today as I sat in the women's meeting at church I learned a seemingly obvious, but powerful message. It's not that I didn't know this before, but I really understood it today. The instructor asked us to think of and share an example of a woman that has influenced our life. I'm pretty sure every eye was wet in the room as examples of gentle, but influential women were shared. 

As a group of about 40 women sat crying together I could see the real power in women. In our tears we all recognized the most influential women in each of our lives were the gentle, loving, kind and sympathetic ones. 

Today I really learned that women are powerful! Powerfully compassionate. Powerfully selfless. Powerfully sympathetic. Powerfully faithful. Powerfully noble. Powerfully gentle. I could list a hundred more attributes, but you get the picture.

In a society that is well-intentioned in trying to make everything between women and men equal, we tend to sometimes miss the point. Us women do not need to feel inferior to men because we are different. We have some qualities that are similar, but why can't we be proud and embrace that women tend to be more compassionate and tender-hearted then men? That certainly doesn't make us less important that we sympathize and care for people in a different way. Though impressive and praise-worthy, we don't need to command armies, rule a nation or even a corporation to have the most lasting and sincere positive influence on this world. In fact as we all thought about the women who we are grateful to for their example, not a single politician or CEO was named. It was mothers, grandmothers, church leaders from our youth, neighbors, teachers, and friends who found us in our most desparate times and never gave up on us. 

"When the real history of mankind is fully disclosed, will it feature the echoes of gunfire or the shaping sound of lullabies? The great armistices made by military men or the peacemaking of women in homes and in neighborhoods? Will what happened in cradles and kitchens prove to be more controlling than what happened in congresses? When the surf of the centuries has made the great pyramids so much sand, the everlasting family will still be standing." -Neil L Maxwell 

I love being a woman! I love that I cry easily for my friends and family when they are in pain or turmoil. I love that I see ways to serve others. I love that I think of friends who are struggling and take a moment to pray for them. None of these make me weaker or any less important then my husband who is literally keeping people alive in surgery. In fact, he may save lives but I can create them. I love that my strengths, while different then Bryan's, can match in magnitude to his. 

November

The reality of this month has come crashing into my life today and found itself a spot to reside in my heart and nerves for about 4 weeks.

Jane's birthday on October 1st was tough for me, I anticipated it being really hard but hoped the anticipation would be worse then the actual day. It wasn't, the whole day was just trying to survive. I really did love all the #elizajanelove that was spread that day. It made me feel less alone, more loved and that Jane still lives in so many people's hearts. But the sadness and anxiety of what I didn't have was still almost too much to bear.

As we are exactly two weeks away from the anniversary of Jane becoming an angel, my mind floods with vivid memories and flashbacks of that horrific day, my nerves are on edge, my body aches to feel her body again. The further out we get, the less I can remember the feel of her tiny body, and that breaks my heart.

I have said about a dozen times already today I just want to skip this month. I want to decorate for Christmas tomorrow and pretend that November doesn't exist. I don't know how I am supposed to survive this month again. I don't know what is expected of me and what I need to learn, but right now I don't want it. I want this month to just be any other 11th month of the year and not have any special significance to our family.

But as I was perusing Facebook, something really struck my attention. Someone asked the question, "How early is too early to put up Christmas?". The response from someone that they love having a month and holiday completely dedicated to seeking out their blessings and recognizing them helped me realize I need that in my life right now. November we celebrate gratitude and the many things we do have in our life. And that is probably what I need to combat the attitude of focusing on what I don't have.

An apostle from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints said in a talk this last April, "It might sound contrary to the wisdom of the world to suggest that one who is burdened with sorrow should give thanks to God. But those who set aside the bottle of bitterness and lift instead the goblet of gratitude can find a purifying drink of healing, peace, and understanding." -Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf

I do have a literal perfect daughter. She has attained heaven and all it's blessings without having to endure the trials and suffering of this life. I have two sons who adore and love their baby sister with all their giant hearts. I do have a husband who is pretty much the epitome of perfection packaged into a hot little gift for me. I do have legions of angels on earth and in heaven who constantly surround me with their love. I do have the indescribable joy of getting to have my daughters spirit that is full of the purest love come visit and comfort me in my times of deep sorrow. My daughter has become my greatest spiritual teacher. I learn from her and she comforts me. Our roles have been reversed for a time.

I will try to continue in my month of gratitude because I need it. We all need it. In the seasons of our life when we feel desolate and empty, how much more do we need to force ourselves to see the good that still exists?  

"How much of life do we miss by waiting to see the rainbow before thanking God that there is rain?" -Elder Uchtdorf

Part of that gratitude just may be gratitude for free agency to put up Christmas whenever I want. I love Christmas and it makes my heart happy. I can be grateful with some snowmen and angels around, right?

I Can Do Hard Things

I wrote up a post several days ago updating on our family situation. It has weighed on me the last couple days and I haven't felt like I should publish it. This has never happened, I have never felt so conflicted about whether I should publish a post. 

To sum up the last post; I haven't been well. Pregnancy is a hard thing for me. Being sick and tired constantly are hard enough, but my anxiety has been the worst of it. It has been barely tolerable at best, and totally dibilitating at times. Laying in bed for hours waiting for a moment when my anxiety eases to fall asleep, then waking up at 4 am to a panic attack every single day isn't the best way to start your morning. 

I asked Bryan to give me a priesthood blessing a week ago, the night before Jane's birthday and also the night before my first OB appointment. What Bryan and I both felt was that this pregnancy is a trial I have the opportunity to grow from. That through this deep trial, I will have compassion and appreciation for those around me who experience similar symptoms in pregnancy. 

That honestly is not what I wanted to hear and I have dug my heels in, said enough is enough and I want to be better. But that didn't work either. 

Today I have watched two Mormon Messages videos that have brought me back to humility and helped me remember that Heaveny Father did not leave me comfortless after I lost Jane and He isn't going to start now.

 The first lesson I learned is: I am enough. I don't need to impress anyone with my put-together house and cute outfit. I don't owe anyone an explanation to why I haven't had makeup on in over a week or why my son watches 3 hours of tv a day so I can take a nap. My love for my family is enough. My messy, but mostly sanitary, house is enough. My strength to just play for a little bit and then let the boys play on their own for most of the day is enough. 

The second lesson I learned today is: I have the power to endure. Every morning for the last month I wake up feeling like I will explode, but so far I have kept living another day. The power I have is enough to make it through another pregnancy. I can endure this because I have enough faith that my Heavenly Father loves me and has a greater plan for me than I have for myself. 

Some may think it logical to question God's existence at this point, after all He isn't answering my prayer the way I want Him to. But I have felt the reality of my Heavenly Father in such miraculous and sacred ways this year it would be so short-sighted of me to turn away now. Especially when I obviously need divine comfort more then ever. He has answered prayers with such mercy and love I can certainly try to have a little faith for a few months while I pass through another trial. 

Just like any parent teaching a child a difficult lesson...learning to ride a bike or eating healthy food...the difficulty yields greater blessings. In these cases; having fun and growing a healthy body. 

I can survive this pregnancy because I can do hard things

Ten months

Tomorrow (9/16/14) is 10 months. Ten months since I held my baby girl. 10 months ago I didn't think I could make it to today. Let's be honest, I didn't think I could make it a week or even a month. I wrote how I survived breath by breath, minute by minute. That was all I could do. The clock moved so slowly and I just kept taking another breath. And then another.

Everyone told me time will ease the pain, not take it away, but will ease it. I have felt that the last few weeks. I still, and always will, ache in my chest and wish I was holding my baby girl. I often try to visualize her at what her current age would be. What words would she be saying? She was a smart little whipper-snapper, I wouldn't be surprised if she had some teeny baby sentences already. How much hair would she have? I bet she would have loved Sophia the First. And I would have loved having some girly time.

My days seem to feel normal. A "new" normal. I have carried the grief long enough that my back has shaped itself to carry it without noticing quite as much. Don't get me wrong, anyone will notice a heavy sack of bricks they carry 24/7, but it gets easier as your muscles develop. I do recognize grief is not linear. It is like a wave and goes up and down. I never know how far back down I will go when this wave peaks. I still have some days when I just don't want to be happy, get ready or smile. But I have adjusted to that just being part of who I am now. I am an emotionally complex person, that is my new reality and I am okay with it. I am so grateful for people who love me the way I am, and understand.

In just 2 1/2 weeks it will be Jane's 2nd birthday. I am honestly terrified for this day. It's going to be hard. I want so badly to have pink balloons and princess's. I want to see Janie's face as she opens a new doll. I can't have that. I have some dear friends organizing a celebration and day of service for us (which will be announced in more detail on Facebook soon). I am hoping at the very least to have a day of peace and perspective. To know I will get every lost birthday with her someday, but for now I need to just be patient and grateful for the many blessings I do have.

Reunions

Today has been one of the greatest days an LDS mother can experience. Today, my brother in law has been reunited with our family. He has been faithfully serving a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints for the last two years in the Phillipines.

The separation is difficult. We are only allowed weekly emails and bi-annual phone calls home. It has been a mixture of emotions for me and I'm not even his mom! We are so so proud of him for choosing to serve the Lord and the Filipino people. We are grateful he has gained these experiences; but heartbroken for the family vacations, Christmas's, birthdays and just about every other day that we don't have him physically with us.

I was able to FaceTime my in-laws at the Salt Lake City Airport so I could see him arrive and be apart of the emotional homecoming. I could not stop crying! (The boys were totally confused why I couldn't stop crying, they thought I was sad he was home.) The reunion was so full of love. I am sure the tears I couldn't hold back were because this reunion was a small glimpse of what I have awaiting me when I see my Jane again.

As hard as this time on earth is without her, I'm proud of her strong and righteous spirit. I ache, but know she is doing the Lord's work. I wish I could see her right now, but in wishing that I am taking away from the glorious work she has been called to do. I realize that now, it was my epiphany today. I want my sons to serve missions to grow in character and testimony, so I wouldn't wish them home. The same is with Jane. I should not wish away the eternal work and glory she has.

And when that day comes, and it will...I have to always remind myself that it will... our reconciliation will be the most joyous moment! I don't believe there are words to properly describe the celestial and perfect joy I will feel to have my princess back in my arms.

I'm happy today. I am so happy. I am grateful for this truth my Heavenly Father taught me. And using my family to teach it to me. I love them and am blessed to be in their lives.

I read a great talk by Russel M Nelson titled "The Doors of Death". The following paragraph was on my mind this afternoon, "Moreover, we can’t fully appreciate joyful reunions later without tearful separations now. The only way to take sorrow out of death is to take love out of life."

Be still, my soul: The hour is hast'ning on

When we shall be forever with the Lord,

When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,

Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.

Be still, my soul: When change and tears are past,

All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.
verse 3 "Be Still, My Soul"

(Sorry for the super grainy pictures, but let's celebrate the miracle of FaceTime!)

My take on the Saratov Approach

Our thoughts and experiences tend to color the way we view life and interpret things. That is why a book, poem or art can mean different things to everyone. Tonight we watched the movie Saratov Approach and I noticed so many parallels to my trial of losing Jane. Most of the characters in the film experienced some of what I have gone through.

The missionaries, Elder Tuttle and Elder Probst, were living a good life. They were doing what they were supposed to be doing. They had solid faith in the gospel. But they were chosen to endure something scary. Their fear, then faith, then fear, then faith was so familiar. I feel like that daily, even hourly sometimes. But one of the Elders repeated his first discussion to bring himself comfort. Sometimes when our faith is shaken, we have to make a choice to have faith in what we already know instead of fearing everything we don't have answers to. 

The poor mothers of those missionaries were inspiring. Though some aspects of our situations are very different, there were many the same. They were grieving the loss of their child. Scared, confused, trying to cling to faith. One mother stood in the hallway and stared at a framed portrait of her son, and I thought, that is all she has right now. With Jane's beautiful portrait hanging on a wall right in front of me, I felt the pain that I too have to settle with a picture of her beautiful face for now. As we saw prayers coming from all over the world for their family and all the gifts, notes, flowers and kindness; I found myself getting emotional. We received so much. So so so much. The Probst and Tuttle family may have been scared and confused, but they were not alone. And neither were we. I will never have the right words or ability to express my gratitude for so many people who surrounded us in a bubble of faith and pure, Christ-like love. As I type this, my cheeks are wet. I love you, thank you for loving me.

The moment when the Elders were told to get ready to be executed, they looked at each other and asked how they were feeling. To their surprise, they were calm. That took me back to our time in the hospital. It was crazy, like CRAZY. There were at minimum a dozen people running and shouting around the ER. I was incredibly nauseous, probably from shock and had a lot of anxiety in my hands and legs. But I remember feeling an unexplainable calmness. That may sound contradictory, anxiety and calm, but it's how it was. My physical body was in shock, but I knew, with ABSOLUTE surety that everything was okay. Whatever the outcome, we would be okay. I don't know how many angels it takes to bring a shocked, anxious, mother of a dying baby to that much faith but I don't doubt there was an army of angels with us.

The last significant parallel I can think of now was when the missionaries were released. It was in a field of white snow, completely white. I love snow. I especially love big heavy snow storms. They feel celestial. I wish I could know what Jane saw when she was received into heaven, but endless white is what I imagine. As the missionaries ran with pure relief and joy because they were safe, I was reminded that my Jane knows pure joy and she too is safe.

The reunion those missionaries had with their family and friends was 1,000 times more sweet because they had tasted something 1,000 times more bitter. They knew what was truly good because they had experienced truly bad. I dream of that reunion with my baby girl and am anxious to see her again.

Thankful

I had a hard morning. My moments of overwhelming grief tend to be random, they just hit me and I can't move. This morning I hadn't gotten out of bed when it just hit and I couldn't stop crying. My family was leaving for church and I just couldn't move to get myself ready. So I stayed in bed crying until they left.

The moment the door closed and the house was quiet, I felt Jane with me. In church we always learn you have to be still and quiet and patient in order to feel and receive direction from the Holy Ghost. That is exactly how it is for me and Jane. When I feel her I am still and quiet and alone.

She brings so much peace with her. It always calms my trembling body and aching soul. After a few minutes of feeling her so close to me, I had gratitude in my heart. What an incredible girl she is. She turns my moments of grief into gratitude.

I am thankful for my Jane. I am grateful I get to be her mom, what an honor. I am grateful for the opportunity I have to try and be a better person everyday because I am always reminded of what I have waiting for me if I can live a good life.

I am grateful for an all-knowing Heavenly Father who needed his daughter back, but in the meantime would look down on me so compassionately and send me so many tender mercies I don't have room enough to receive them all. He knows I ache, and knows that what was taken can never be replaced in this life, but has provided so many other blessings to help me navigate through the grief and pain.

"I testify that when the Lord closes one important door in your life, He shows His continuing love and compassion by opening many other compensating doors through your exercise of faith. He will place in your path packets of spiritual sunlight to brighten your way." -Richard G Scott

I am grateful for the revealed truths that God gave to Joseph Smith that children who die in infancy are saved and perfect. That they are "too pure, too lovely, to live on this earth." I would be in a scary place if I didn't have so much knowledge of where we go and our state of happiness after we die. I don't worry about Jane. I know she is happy. I know she is safe. That knowledge is an incredible gift. One that I am always, always thankful for because I am constantly thinking of Jane.

Jane's Official Diagnosis

Bittersweet. 

That's how it feels when you finally get the cause of death for your daughter. It has been 8 months since she passed but we just received her cause of death yesterday. 

The result? Systematic Inflammatory Response of an unknown origin.

I will let Bryan explain that to you in doctor terms: 

systemic inflammatory response of unknown origin: an inflammatory response of the whole body usually related to infection but not always so. The criteria for SIRS is two of the following four: tachycardia (fast heart rate>90), tachypnea (fast breathing>20), fever, or high white blood cell count.

So basically, they have no idea why Jane died. It could have been an infection, but not necessarily. It has been a very weird evening for me since we found out. Like I'm stuck in limbo. Not having real closure. I feel like I should be upset, but I can't be because I don't know what to be upset at. I'm upset at nothing. Nothing being the lack of diagnosis. 

I am not okay tonight. I just want to curl into a ball and not come out for a week. I can't believe this is really real. It can't be. I am not this person who can survive tragedy. 

I do take comfort in my initial reaction to hearing the news. That this "nothing" that Jane apparently had was God's way of getting her home. If it was meningitis or cancer or "nothing" the end result would have been her mortal death and return to her Savior. At least the way He took her was so quick and painless; it was very merciful.