The sun'll come out tomorrow....

Tomorrow.  It is only a day away now.  I don't usually plan for bad days.  I don't think anyone really does.  However, I've been "planning" on tomorrow being the worst day of my life for several weeks now.  I know that sounds bad.  I know it's very negative to say.  I know all those things, but there's not much positive that  comes to mind when I think about burying my daughter....my sweet Lucy.  OSF offers a burial service for all babies born before 23 weeks, which we are very thankful for.  I just wish it would've been sooner.  I've always thought that watching the burial was the worst part of people dying and judging by the tears streaming down my face right now and the knot in my stomach, I know that is still true for me.  And to top things off, it is supposed to be a super gloomy, rainy day tomorrow.  As I was laying awake in bed tonight, I prayed for sunshine tomorrow even though I know the chances of that are slim.  According to the weather there's only a 10% chance that it will not rain.  But I know that God still heard my prayer and maybe he will answer it with a ray of sunlight during the service, or maybe even a rainbow.  That would definitely be a bright spot in my day.
Even though Lucy has been gone now for over 2 months, people are still asking what they can do for us.  I almost always respond to them by asking for prayer.  Although the good moments seem to outweigh the hard moments as time goes by, there is still such a huge heaviness in my heart.  It's a feeling unlike any other and one that maybe only someone who's experienced loss can understand.  I understand it all too well.  Fortunately, I've gained another unexplainable understanding through all of this.  While the feeling of brokenness is sometimes overwhelming, I also have an overwhelming peace.  The peace that only comes from my God.  Several songs have encouraged me the past few days.  One of them was from Jeremy Camp's song, I Still Believe, where he says, "In brokenness I can see that this is your will for me..."  I've had nowhere else to look but up for the last few months and it's amazing how clearly you can see through the hurt.  It doesn't mean that I don't hurt, it means that there's hope in the hurt, "sun" if you will.  So, here's where you come in friends:  please be our bright spot in the hurt tomorrow.  Lift Jimmy and I and our family up in prayer whenever you think of us.  Share encouraging verses with us, funny memories that always bring smiles to our faces, talk to us about our beautiful daughter, send us a text about something unrelated, pm us on facebook, post a picture to our wall, etc.  That's what you can do for us for now.  Bet your bottom dollar there will be sun! :) 

A first time for everything...

     There are several phases of grieving.  I've felt most of them and have probably even made up some of my own.  It's such a strange bunch of emotions that I seem to have very little control over.  Control.  Now there is something I like to have and never have I felt so out of it.  Apparently one of the things you have difficulty with when you grieve the loss of your baby is being around pregnant women or babies.  This is "normal" they say.  But I can certainly tell you that it's not normal for me to not want to be around babies!  Nor is it even practical.  They're everywhere in my life from friends at work and church to my large family.  I have 17 nieces and nephews whom I adore and 3 of them are 1 and under.  Never in the past 17 years had I not wanted to be around them.  I wish I could say that's still true, but there's a first time for everything. :/   
     Mornings are difficult for me.  They are when I remember that Lucy is no longer here.  It's a hard pill to swallow, especially after bad dreams.  One morning a few weeks ago was particularly difficult.  Jimmy ended up going  into work late to stay with me longer.  He knew I'd be by myself that day and was trying to arrange for me to meet my sister for lunch.  I hesitated, not because I didn't want to see my sister, but because I knew Eden would be with her.  Eden is my very sweet 1 y.o. niece who I love very much!  The last time we had met in Champaign for lunch was to register at Toys R Us for Lucy.  The next time I met my sister was supposed to be different.  I was supposed to have a baby too and naturally she would've been Eden's best friend.  Eden would've hugged and kissed Lucy and poked her in the eyes.  I didn't want to see Eden that day because I knew it would remind me of what I'll never have with Lucy.  Of all the feelings that I've ever felt in my life, this was by far the worst.  Later that night we met with our Impact Group.  One of my friends just recently had a baby and everyone was ooooing and ahhhing over him as anyone would do if they saw him.  He's adorable!  All I could think about though was how that was supposed to be my baby in a few short months.  My friends would've ooohed and ahhhhed over Lucy.  They would've held her and commented on what a pretty purple flower she had in her hair.  The reality that sinks in though is not just that they won't hold her, but that I never will again either.  This is what really stings.  It wasn't supposed to happen to us.  Books on grieving weren't supposed to be on my shelf.  I wasn't supposed to be one of the people our Pastor preached about 'going through a tough time.'  Looking at others with their babies wasn't supposed to hurt so badly.  Before losing Lucy I had pictured myself rocking her to sleep, holding her hand as she learned to walk, putting piggy tails and extremely large bows in her hair.  I wanted to take her into the bank to see Jimmy and dress her up for church on Sundays.  Selfishly I want her here with me, with her Mommy and Daddy, where I feel like she belongs, even though I know she's safe in the arms of Jesus- no better place to be!  So, that is where I go with my mind when those feelings overtake me.  I don't know what Lucy's doing up in heaven right now but I like to think about it.  My niece, Addison, and nephew, Grant, like to pray for her to have fun playing in heaven. They're probably right.  She probably is playing.  I like to picture her on a swing set. I can see her swinging as high as she can and then jumping off just for the thrill of it because she knows she will be safe.  I like to think that she has met her other cousins who were already there and that she's playing with them too.
     Of all of the phases of grieving, I'm very thankful that this one doesn't tend to stick around.  I did meet my sister that day and had a fun time.  I gave Eden a cookie before she finished her lunch and bought her a couple things that she wanted at the store when she cried because that's what Aunties do.  I thanked God for her and for all of my other nieces and nephews that day because being an aunt is where I am right now.  And as badly as I want to mother my own child, I don't ever want to regret time spent with the kiddos I have in my life right now.  They bring me such great joy and I couldn't be more thankful that my brothers and sisters have allowed me to play such an active role in their lives.