It's a done deal!

Em's empty room
Em decorating hers and Noah's trees at 'the loft'

Daddy and Em with her first piece of furniture in the storage unit

Our last pose at Em and Noah's very first house

We snuggled with Noah a lot in this room

And in this room.

Our new house won't be done until December 28th. Meanwhile, we moved into a loft downtown last night for a few weeks. It's like taking a vacation in our own town. We can see the mountains and all the city lights. Em is loving it. We met the new owners at the closing yesterday. They are a couple about our age with 3 kids, one dog, a cat and a bird. They are very excited about being in our neighborhood. We pray that they will be blessed in that home just as we were.

It was a bittersweet exit. I literally mopped myself out the back door and left the garage at 10:35pm, but not until many tears were shed, many prayers said, and an "Okay, Lord, You know I'll miss the memories of my boy there, so, please fill in my blanks..."

We're excited for the change. We're also glad that even though we could not move right into our new home that we have the opportunity to hang out in our town and do the things we've always talked of doing.

Have a great weekend!

Displaced

Not that I need to clarify since Noah is gone and it's a little late...the docs never declared Noah as being in a coma. I asked them on several occasions and they said he was definitely NOT in a coma. If people who see Noah's photos on this blog were wondering why I always took pictures of him while he was sleeping, I didn't. The last time his eyes were consciously open was probably October 24th, 2006. His eyes would open once in a while slightly after that, but he had no cycles of wake or sleep time.

I remember each morning at the hospital I would wake up and quickly run over to Noah's crib to see if his eyes were open. I was praying so hard that one day he would just wake up from this sickening prison. I learned so much through my midnight research sessions and continue to make discoveries that I have no doubt are related to Noah's health decline. After more blood work for the three of us, I'll have no qualms about publishing this information in Noah's book.

I have no idea why I'm writing any of this today. I guess in my grief process anger ebbs and flows. My life is an open wound of late because we move out of our home, the only one Noah ever graced with his sweet little presence, the day after tomorrow. I am excited to live in a new home and to finally be able to display pictures of Em and Noah (when you put your house on the market you have to 'depersonalize' it for resale).

His other home, the hospital, is no longer there either. That part is hard for me...I really longed to go to the hospital on Thanksgiving. I thought that if I went over to the new hospital maybe I could satisfy the longing. God had other plans. Em woke up puking. As weird as it sounds, I had a lot of peace knowing I wasn't going to get the opportunity to go wander the halls of the hospital aimlessly looking for the only thing I really was seeking. Em threw up 4 times and was over it, bouncing off the walls the rest of the day, but it gave me the chance to snuggle with the kid I do have and nurture her little soul.

In grief counseling the emphasis remained, "How would we remember our child for the holidays?" My plan to go to the hospital had fallen through, our evening meal was going to be shared with some family and many new faces at someone else's home, so I was not sure how Noah might fit into that setting. As we were sharing around the table things for which we were thankful I thanked the hostess for graciously opening her heart and home to our family two years in a row. This woman, my sister's mother-in-love, is wonderful. Her smile lights up a room, her sincerity can be felt from miles away, and her genuine love for life and people is profound. One of her friends came up to me after dinner and said she did not want to upset me but was wondering if I would tell her everything about our little boy. I was grateful for the opportunity to share my heart, the Source of my strength and hope, and the story of a little boy that changed my perspective forever. He did work his way into our Thanksgiving...

"Everybody wants to go to Heaven...

...but nobody wants to die."

These are the words of a David Crowder song. I believe they are the sentiments of a LOT of people here on earth. I find it interesting that most, if not all people, if asked the question whether they will go to Heaven or Hell when they die, state emphatically, "Heaven". The answer would be followed with something like, "I don't believe God sends 'good' or 'nice' people to Hell" or "I don't believe God would send the people He created to Hell". If the same people were asked if they believe in God the answers would be split between a hardy 'Yes!' and a definite 'No!'. Heaven is God's home. It is His dwelling place. Why on earth would people who do not believe in Him want to spend eternity at His house? It would be like someone who hates your guts or could give a rip about you moving into your spare bedroom until they die. Awkward.

One day you hear the doorbell. You open the door, say hello and standing there is a stranger. They reply 'hello' as if you should know who they are. You figure they are there to sell you something. Then you see they have suitcases, baggage. You are perplexed as to why they are at your door. The look on their face shows their intention of walking through your front door with their bags, and never leaving. You close the door slightly and say, "I'm sorry but I think you have the wrong address." Again, awkward! It's not that you don't like meeting new people...

Jesus said, "Whoever finds his life will lose it and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it."

He also said, "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?"

Another entry that sheds light on this is I Corinthians 15.

I can't wait to get to Heaven, whether I die first or I'm old and gray and have to wait it out, but in the mean time, I'm enjoying my relationship with God, believing in Him and getting to know Him quite intimately so that when I do die, it won't be like knocking on a stranger's front door...

I am not only thankful on the 4th Thursday of every November, but I am thankful daily that when I get to God's front door, I won't be toting even one carry on because of what Jesus did for me, AND, God's going to recognize me AND know my name. I am not boasting...of this I am sure.

Grief counseling, week 7

I miss these red, crusty cheeks, really, really, really badly.
I miss these little feet and sweet ankles and knees I used to nibble on.
I miss this mighty little man of God. This picture was taken one year ago today. There isn't anything I don't miss about Noah. I wish the tears that were flowing right now were soaking his head, like we used to do so many nights...

I've been too busy lately. Some of the busyness has been self inflicted and much of it is the reality of having to close on our house in less than two weeks. One thing they have tried to emphasize in grief counseling is slowing down, simplifying, and taking time for self-care and grief. I'm not doing this right. I'm too busy and I feel like I haven't been a good friend to any one of my family members or friends, and quite frankly, I do not have the emotional fortitude to be that to anyone presently. It wouldn't feel so hectic if we were moving right into our new house but we have a month of homelessness to figure out. We need to organize storage of our belongings, pack suitcases for the month of December since we'll either live in a hotel or do some house sitting, mail for the month, etc. This wouldn't feel so hectic, I am sure, if every day I weren't reliving hospital life in my head and heart, missing Noah's sweet presence, missing nurses, and quite frankly, missing being a caretaker and researcher. I guess there is a reason why the grief facilitators emphasize not taking trips or moving during the 9 week session.

We covered a lot of material on Monday. A few questions posed were:

"Where is it that you find a sense of hope?" I find hope in knowing that Noah is whole and healed and in God's presence. I find hope in God. I find hope that I was not created for here, but I am here, so while I am here, my purpose is to be used for God's glory. I find hope that one day Jesus will return for the Bride of Christ. I find hope in the God of the Universe who threw every star in place, designed every living creature, and Who knows my name because He loves me.

"What makes you want to go on?" Deep in my heart, I am ashamed that Christ's short life and gruesome death were not enough of a wake up call for me. I didn't learn in 19 years, at the time, of knowing what Jesus did for me what 7 months and 2 days with Noah taught me. What makes me go on is knowing that I am not my own. I was bought with Jesus' death on the cross. As a mom, no, as Emily and Noah's mom, I will not live this life half-hearted nor for my own pursuit. If I don't love God out loud in front of Em, I'm not worthy of being her mom. I'm not worthy of being His child...

"What would your child tell you to do now?" This one was difficult for me to answer because I can be quite literal...since Noah would be 17 months old, he'd be calling me 'Mama' about now. I suppose that's what I am supposed to continue doing, being his big sister's 'Mama'.

Our assignment was to make preparations for the holidays. This was a powerful time because each parent in the room had different fears or apprehensions about the upcoming dates. Many plans have been rearranged or changed altogether in order to lessen the pain. One mom will be trudging through her second holiday season without her daughter. Her husband has left her, his family no longer comes around, she made no mention of her own family, just she and her two boys, alone all day, her not motivated to cook a meal and finding no reason to celebrate. The dad in the group that has lost 3 children in the last 3+ years encouraged her that perhaps all she stopped doing the first year may be reintroduced over time. Just because she didn't do that particular tradition the first year doesn't mean she has to stop it altogether. Sitting there, I couldn't help but think of so many other people who have lost someone they love, whether a child or spouse or parent or friend or whomever. The point of our discussion and the goal of our homework over the next week and even as time continues, is to establish memories, ways to remember those we miss dearly. I am very grateful that this is our topic for the next couple of weeks because even as I think of Noah on countless occasions throughout the day, I have not made memorials, really, and it makes the last year and a half all the more distant.

One facilitator stated that this is where we as the grievers need to state our thoughts and desires plainly so there is no guessing. We need to take responsibility to mention our child's (or your loved ones) name and say that for which we are thankful. They gave us a sheet titled, "Creating Memorials", which has many suggestions as to ways to remember and help others remember. Our experience is different, as is the next guys, but we were in the hospital last year at this time. We spent the holidays and my birthday in the hospital and so, for me, not being there this year will leave an emptiness in my heart. We will likely head over to the new hospital on Thanksgiving to try to encourage other families experiencing now what we did just one year ago.

Please, understand I am not stating this for my own benefit because my life is full and my heart runs over with love and generosity everyday from family and friends. I really do hope this has become a resource of encouragement for others who are also grieving or for those of you who are standing alongside friends and family in their loss. But as the holidays quickly approach, don't let the time pass by without acknowledging the memory of the person who is no longer here. Light a candle, make a toast, lead out in prayer, giving thanks for that person, give the widower flowers...whatever you do, don't ignore the elephant in the middle of the room or it might just sit on your face.

I'm sad...

"Mom, how do you spell 'Paige'?"
"Hey, Mom, let's add a heart."
"Hey, Mom, let's draw a seashell, too."

"Let's pray for Paige's family."

I now know what it feels like to read someone else's blog, pray for them, and for them to die. Her name was Paige Stibgen and she was a tough cookie that had leukemia. She is survived by her loving family and lots of friends. She was 11.

http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/paigestibgen

I can't get her out of my mind...