Worn Out. I think that's the only way to describe it. It's almost like we're too tired to be sad any more. We've been sad for the last year and a half; we just can't take any more of it. This time, we were sad for about two days and then we were just done. Didn't have the energy to cry almost.
We feel like we have nothing left to say, and we don't really care to hear people tell us what God is going to do. And we're also not keen any more on hearing stories like so and so lost five babies, but then had three kids. The following analogy I think would fit and describe how we feel when we hear those stories. Let's say you've been in a bad car wreck and you're still a quadriplegic in a motorized chair. Someone comes up to you and says, "I saw this show a few days back about a guy in a wheel chair, just like you, and he said it was the best thing that ever happened to him because now he values life, he's overcome adversity and shown what you can accomplish with determination..." and you want to just drive over their toes and knock their shins. Those stories don't make us feel any better either.
Something we wish we could do better was talk to everyone who wants to talk to us. Many friends call, but we just don't have anything to say besides the same story: lost at 12 weeks, feel OK, very sad, yada yada. If we haven't gotten back to you we apologize, we just have a lot calls which we appreciate very much and don't have time or energy to call everybody back.
That's the hard part. The good part is that we thank everyone for their support. We do love getting the emails and voice mails that say, we're thinking of you, we're very sorry etc. We are so thankful for our friends and family. We're thankful that Rebecca is OK. They went and got the baby out, but no surgery was required so Rebecca is feeling much better this time.
Thank you again for your support. Even just you reading this blog is encouraging to us when we get to look at the stats and see that 2500 different people have read the blog and have visited from all over the world.
Take care, Micah
Friday, July 25, 2008
A little further down the road
Well, there's a couple things we've learned being a little further down the road after William. I'm not feeling very creative tonight so I'm afraid I'll default to a list.
- We never, ever forget him. Not a day goes by we don't remember William, the hospital, the funeral, ... the loss. We'll never be normal again, it's kind of like getting your leg shot off, you just can't ever go back and be a dude with two regular legs again.
- God has worked in us, Rebecca and I, through this process. We're kinder to each other and we're much more sympathetic with others. Even if others didn't lose their baby, they may just be having a bad day, fighting with a loved one or who knows, it's always important to be kind to people having a bad day.
- We don't value stuff as much, a friend spilled a chocolate milk shake on our wedding quilt and instead of getting quite torqued over it, which I'm really good at, we both just said, "oh well, we'll clean it up, no problem." Now we know stuff is just stuff, and that people matter so much more. Our stuff can't hug us, bring us food, help us clean our house, kick us off the couch or love us. It's just stuff.
Developments
Well, it's been so long I actually have several developments at once to share. First we got pregnant, YAY!! So we told our families, waited a few weeks, then close friends, waited a few weeks, told everybody, next day, lost the baby, BOOOOOOOO! We lost our third baby at just under 12 weeks.
The doctor said that everything operated "as it should." In early stages of development, cell splitting and what not, if everything isn't going along great there's a sort of auto-terminate feature built into babies, so they tell me. They also tell me this is common, about 20% of all pregnancies end this way.
As horrible as it sounds, in my world this is progress. For the other two kids the doctors said, "we have no idea what happened, this isn't supposed to happen," and "wow, I'm glad you [Rebecca] made it, what happened to you is usually fatal." So now for them to say, that everything operated correctly, self-destruct feature included, it's at least progress. I hate it, and I wish it had never happened, but they say you have to look on the sunny side of life or something stupid like that.
The doctor said that everything operated "as it should." In early stages of development, cell splitting and what not, if everything isn't going along great there's a sort of auto-terminate feature built into babies, so they tell me. They also tell me this is common, about 20% of all pregnancies end this way.
As horrible as it sounds, in my world this is progress. For the other two kids the doctors said, "we have no idea what happened, this isn't supposed to happen," and "wow, I'm glad you [Rebecca] made it, what happened to you is usually fatal." So now for them to say, that everything operated correctly, self-destruct feature included, it's at least progress. I hate it, and I wish it had never happened, but they say you have to look on the sunny side of life or something stupid like that.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
What I remember
I don't usually post here on Micah's blog, but since he asked, I'm sharing.
The thing I remember most vividly was how many people were there. I wondered how I could ever explain to everyone who came to the funeral how grateful I was that they did. There were so many people, many of whom came from very far away, that in my hour of deepest sorrow, I was also profoundly thankful.
Even while I was still in the hosptial, one of the things that I was most afraid of was losing all our friends, too. I didn't want people to not be around us because they didn't want to feel uncomfortable. To be honest, it's likely how I would have felt if it had been one of my friend's baby instead of ours. It's hard to imagine that losing our sweet son could have been any worse, but the truth is: it could have been. Instead of just crazy, we could have been crazy and alone.
To everyone who came, brought us dinner, sent flowers, e-mailed, sent a card, dropped by, went to the grocery store, vacummed or did one of countless other things to help us, I am more thankful than I can describe. When the world had come to an end, you helped us keep going.
The thing I remember most vividly was how many people were there. I wondered how I could ever explain to everyone who came to the funeral how grateful I was that they did. There were so many people, many of whom came from very far away, that in my hour of deepest sorrow, I was also profoundly thankful.
Even while I was still in the hosptial, one of the things that I was most afraid of was losing all our friends, too. I didn't want people to not be around us because they didn't want to feel uncomfortable. To be honest, it's likely how I would have felt if it had been one of my friend's baby instead of ours. It's hard to imagine that losing our sweet son could have been any worse, but the truth is: it could have been. Instead of just crazy, we could have been crazy and alone.
The second thing I often think about was the indescribable way that God held our broken hearts in his hands. When I was afraid of being alone, He sent friends in abundance. When nothing anyone said/brought/did could bring back our little boy, our loving heavenly Father gave us hope.
To everyone who came, brought us dinner, sent flowers, e-mailed, sent a card, dropped by, went to the grocery store, vacummed or did one of countless other things to help us, I am more thankful than I can describe. When the world had come to an end, you helped us keep going.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
What do you remember?
During the funeral and graveside service we looked around and have images in our mind that we'll hopefully never forget. We remember what our pastor said, and I play the song we played by Jeremy Camp, "I still believe" quite a bit. We remember a lot, but we would love to hear from those of you who attended, what do you remember? Please leave a comment.
Monday, February 18, 2008
There's Nothing Left to Do
Well it's been a year. His first birthday was January 30th. We had a party for him at Bear Creek. Rebecca made a wonderful white cake with almond, cream cheese icing and we wrote "Happy Birthday William" on it. We took presents and balloons and let the balloons go. It was surreal having our own little party with no guest of honor. We left some of the presents there with him and brought some back to pass along.
The last couple weeks have been really hard. It has been a year so pretty much all of the "firsts" have happened, first birthday, first steps, etc. Rebecca and I have been talking and we're ready to sort of move on. We feel like a year of the hard crying is enough. It's a hard balance, we'll never forget, but we also don't want to be stuck in 2007 forever. But the last couple weeks that seems harder than ever to do. No sooner than we get this great idea, it seems impossible.
The week leading up to his birthday I cried every time I was in the car driving to or from work. I should be going home to see him, but he's not there. He would be so much fun now, but he's not here. For some reason the last couple weeks it just seems like the hole left by his absence seems enormous.
During the funeral and for the first couple weeks afterwards there was a lot to do. We had a lot of family in town. We were busy taking care of Rebecca after the surgery. We got to see family we hadn't seen in a long time. Along with the trauma we had a lot of fun and really good times as well. We've done all the big tasks, we set his head stone, had his first Christmas. We went from counting by days to weeks to months and now to years. Now, everyone's gone home, there's nothing left to do but be sad.
The last couple weeks have been really hard. It has been a year so pretty much all of the "firsts" have happened, first birthday, first steps, etc. Rebecca and I have been talking and we're ready to sort of move on. We feel like a year of the hard crying is enough. It's a hard balance, we'll never forget, but we also don't want to be stuck in 2007 forever. But the last couple weeks that seems harder than ever to do. No sooner than we get this great idea, it seems impossible.
The week leading up to his birthday I cried every time I was in the car driving to or from work. I should be going home to see him, but he's not there. He would be so much fun now, but he's not here. For some reason the last couple weeks it just seems like the hole left by his absence seems enormous.
During the funeral and for the first couple weeks afterwards there was a lot to do. We had a lot of family in town. We were busy taking care of Rebecca after the surgery. We got to see family we hadn't seen in a long time. Along with the trauma we had a lot of fun and really good times as well. We've done all the big tasks, we set his head stone, had his first Christmas. We went from counting by days to weeks to months and now to years. Now, everyone's gone home, there's nothing left to do but be sad.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Silent Night Indeed
It's Christmas Eve and it's a silent night. There's family shuffling about getting ready for bed and whatnot, but compared to what it should be, it's silent.
Silent Night has become the hardest song for me to hear this season. The very first verse says, "Holy infant so tender and mild" and I know exactly what that looks like. I have an image that springs to mind of when I was holding William in my arms. His little hands folded; so tender and mild. Then the very next line is "sleep in heavenly peace" and I remember laying him down in his crib and tucking in the sheets for the last time.
When hearing this song and thinking of my son, tender and mild, sleeping in heavenly peace, my heart breaks and the Holy Spirit reminds me that God's heart broke even more. So much so that He sent His son just to come and get me.
Silent Night has become the hardest song for me to hear this season. The very first verse says, "Holy infant so tender and mild" and I know exactly what that looks like. I have an image that springs to mind of when I was holding William in my arms. His little hands folded; so tender and mild. Then the very next line is "sleep in heavenly peace" and I remember laying him down in his crib and tucking in the sheets for the last time.
When hearing this song and thinking of my son, tender and mild, sleeping in heavenly peace, my heart breaks and the Holy Spirit reminds me that God's heart broke even more. So much so that He sent His son just to come and get me.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Remembering
When they wheeled Rebecca out of the delivery room to the OR a nurse came back and told me to put some scrubs on. If the doctors would let me in, I should be ready, she said. Then she told me to just sit tight until somebody came and got me. So I sat there in the chair having no clue what to do with myself. I called Rebecca's mother, or maybe she called me, and told her they had taken Rebecca in for the emergency C-section. She said something along the lines of, well, that's not what we hoped for, but it's not the end of the world. Then I was just sitting there. I couldn't think of anything else to do, and skydiving taught me panic does nothing but make things worse, so I just prayed for 20 minutes thanking God for everything I have. I thanked him for Rebecca, my parents, her parents, our siblings, our extended family, our health, our house, our church, my business, and all kinds of stuff. I said, God, you have given me all these blessing and if you take them all, I will still trust you. If I had known what was about to happen, I might have done a little more negotiating.
While I was praying, a nurse came in and said the doctor would like to see you now. She didn't look happy, but didn't look sad; just professional, in a soap opera-esque emotive yet emotionless sort of way. We walked down to the OR, which in hospitals is several long halls and corners away. We walked in the final door to the OR and the sea of scrubs just parted before me leading me to a little table with a little baby laying on it. This was not looking like a joyous welcoming party. It took about 2 seconds to realize he's not moving... at all. There were four little red dots on his chest that were puncture holes from the adrenaline they gave him. There was the little bracelet and knit cap on him, and he was looking kind of blue. The doctor standing behind me put his hand on my shoulder and said, "I'm so sorry, there was nothing else we could do."
What's bizarre about that moment is that from then on, there was pretty much zero thought going on, emotion was too overwhelming. They slid a chair in behind me so I could fall down. They asked if I wanted to hold him and I said yes, so I held him close and cried hard. They continued to tell me he wasn't breathing when he came out and they could breathe for him and pump his heart for him, but he never took over and pumped or took a breath on his own. They said Rebecca was doing great and that she was getting put back together. They said I should probably go back to the room and wait for Rebecca to get up to the recovery room. Did I want to leave him here or let a nurse take care of him and clean him up? Not on your life! I didn't let him out of my arms until an hour later I handed him to Rebecca.
While I was praying, a nurse came in and said the doctor would like to see you now. She didn't look happy, but didn't look sad; just professional, in a soap opera-esque emotive yet emotionless sort of way. We walked down to the OR, which in hospitals is several long halls and corners away. We walked in the final door to the OR and the sea of scrubs just parted before me leading me to a little table with a little baby laying on it. This was not looking like a joyous welcoming party. It took about 2 seconds to realize he's not moving... at all. There were four little red dots on his chest that were puncture holes from the adrenaline they gave him. There was the little bracelet and knit cap on him, and he was looking kind of blue. The doctor standing behind me put his hand on my shoulder and said, "I'm so sorry, there was nothing else we could do."
What's bizarre about that moment is that from then on, there was pretty much zero thought going on, emotion was too overwhelming. They slid a chair in behind me so I could fall down. They asked if I wanted to hold him and I said yes, so I held him close and cried hard. They continued to tell me he wasn't breathing when he came out and they could breathe for him and pump his heart for him, but he never took over and pumped or took a breath on his own. They said Rebecca was doing great and that she was getting put back together. They said I should probably go back to the room and wait for Rebecca to get up to the recovery room. Did I want to leave him here or let a nurse take care of him and clean him up? Not on your life! I didn't let him out of my arms until an hour later I handed him to Rebecca.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
The real deal
I've been reading back through my posts this morning and noticed a trend. When God has been working and teaching and when I'm excited and have something to share, I write. When I'm victorious in my struggle or having a breakthrough revelation, that's what I love to share. What there's not much of in my posts, is the other times in between those times, when life isn't so fun.
Now, every time between my posts has not been horrible. There have been many great times as well as trying times that I haven't written about. I just don't know how to, or want to at times, give an accurate description or play by play. Especially when things are bad, I don't have the urge to post, "Life sucks, I don't know what's going on, news at eleven." When life is no fun, I really don't want to be whiny. Similarly, my faith has grown through this experience, and through many other experiences leading up to this, but to only represent that it has always been strong is just untrue. My life this year has not been characterized by peace, tranquility and joy. It's no fun admitting weakness and pain, but along with the victories, that is the real deal.
Now, every time between my posts has not been horrible. There have been many great times as well as trying times that I haven't written about. I just don't know how to, or want to at times, give an accurate description or play by play. Especially when things are bad, I don't have the urge to post, "Life sucks, I don't know what's going on, news at eleven." When life is no fun, I really don't want to be whiny. Similarly, my faith has grown through this experience, and through many other experiences leading up to this, but to only represent that it has always been strong is just untrue. My life this year has not been characterized by peace, tranquility and joy. It's no fun admitting weakness and pain, but along with the victories, that is the real deal.
This has been harder than we expected
This year has been hard. We're over ten months away and it seems like all we do is see how deep the rabbit hole goes; how hard it can get. Thanksgiving and the holidays have been especially hard and it's kind of caught us off guard.
First, we planned a year and a half ago to have Christmas at our house so that we wouldn't be traveling with a youngster. Well, everyone is coming to our house, but we don't have a youngster. It's a kick in the gut every time I think about it.
Second, now that's it's been a while, baby's close to William's age are now old enough to be out traveling and it just seems like we see them all over the place. We know he would have been about this big, he would know his name, he would be close to walking about now, he would be cuddly, he would be so cute and he would be so fun.
Third, It's been really hard seeing our parents be such great grand parents. When we see our parents take care of other kids our hearts cry, "they should be taking care of William!" We don't begrudge anyone else their joy, but we can't help thinking William should be on that wagon, high chair or lap instead.
Fourth, it seems like injustice continues to taunt us. As time goes on we hear of more and more people who don't "deserve" their baby, but they get one...and we still don't. Some people complain incessantly about the pain and inconvenience of having a baby. Some people have one and don't take care of it. Some people don't want the one they have. Some people have one and want one, but don't deserve it. (I understand the danger of using the word "deserve," especially considering the context of some of my other posts, but it best describes the emotions we feel) Sometimes these events put me into a crying, screaming rage! It's just so unfair!
Finally, we're coming up on Christmas. A time of hope, that just seems ironic. We think back to last year and all the fun we had with him kicking; the hopes and the dreams. I remember rubbing Rebecca's tummy, sleeping with the windows open in the winter, trying to keep toilet paper in stock. What do we have to hope for this year? We've lost two babies this year, with even less probability of success now than before. It's just a whole different ball game, that's no fun to play.
As much as we try to be aware of troubling times ahead of time, we just can't predict how awful it can end up being. We try to prepare for times we know will be stressful, or remind us of him, but we continue to be amazed at all the different directions pain can come from. This has been harder than we expected.
First, we planned a year and a half ago to have Christmas at our house so that we wouldn't be traveling with a youngster. Well, everyone is coming to our house, but we don't have a youngster. It's a kick in the gut every time I think about it.
Second, now that's it's been a while, baby's close to William's age are now old enough to be out traveling and it just seems like we see them all over the place. We know he would have been about this big, he would know his name, he would be close to walking about now, he would be cuddly, he would be so cute and he would be so fun.
Third, It's been really hard seeing our parents be such great grand parents. When we see our parents take care of other kids our hearts cry, "they should be taking care of William!" We don't begrudge anyone else their joy, but we can't help thinking William should be on that wagon, high chair or lap instead.
Fourth, it seems like injustice continues to taunt us. As time goes on we hear of more and more people who don't "deserve" their baby, but they get one...and we still don't. Some people complain incessantly about the pain and inconvenience of having a baby. Some people have one and don't take care of it. Some people don't want the one they have. Some people have one and want one, but don't deserve it. (I understand the danger of using the word "deserve," especially considering the context of some of my other posts, but it best describes the emotions we feel) Sometimes these events put me into a crying, screaming rage! It's just so unfair!
Finally, we're coming up on Christmas. A time of hope, that just seems ironic. We think back to last year and all the fun we had with him kicking; the hopes and the dreams. I remember rubbing Rebecca's tummy, sleeping with the windows open in the winter, trying to keep toilet paper in stock. What do we have to hope for this year? We've lost two babies this year, with even less probability of success now than before. It's just a whole different ball game, that's no fun to play.
As much as we try to be aware of troubling times ahead of time, we just can't predict how awful it can end up being. We try to prepare for times we know will be stressful, or remind us of him, but we continue to be amazed at all the different directions pain can come from. This has been harder than we expected.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
One of the coolest things I've heard in a while
Rebecca and I were watching TV the other night: Man vs Wild on Discovery channel. It's a show where a guy gets dropped off in the middle of no where and has to find his way back to civilization. He was running through the rain forest then stopped for a split second, looked up and said something like, "look at this flower, it just proves the extravagance of God. This flower may have never been seen by anyone, but its gorgeous, it's extravagance!" Then he scrambled on down the path to catch a piranha with a hand made bow and arrow.
Stop every once and a while, look around, and you too can see the extravagance of God!
Sunday, October 14, 2007
The Long Time Learning (God Pt III)
God has been working on me for the last couple months and all the pieces didn't come together until last week. First I'll give you the big lesson, give you all the points and small lessons along the way, then give you the big lesson again. The big lesson: I control nothing, I deserve nothing, when I am at my best I depend on God for everything.
First off, I control nothing. This has been a big theme of this year. No matter how good we are, no matter how right we are, no matter how many risks we eliminate, we are not in control. Rebecca was so prepared for William it was just amazing to me. In the end though, there was no dieting, exercising, vitamin taking, technique learning enough to control that situation. It's just not possible. Same thing last couple weeks, we had absolutely no control of an ectopal pregnancy bursting and causing surgery. Even in my business, I realize I have no control. I can do my best to take care of my customers and I still may fail, or I may succeed and they may want to sue me anyway. I just do not control any situation really. I have control over my emotions and actions and that is pretty much all.
Second, I deserve nothing. This lesson came to me first towards the end of an interesting book from my brother in law. It's called Me, Myself and Bob and I highly recommend it. But one of the stories he tells is about thinking that because he worked hard all night, that he deserves what he receives. Then when he saw another man getting on the train going to what the author suspects is his first job at 4am to probably very unfulfilling, unapreciative work and then to a second equally unrewarding job just to barely support his family. At this moment the Holy Spirit revealed to the author that he didn't deserve better just because of who he was, but that the foot of the cross is level: "for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God," Romans 3:23. God has repeated this lesson for me as well. For the last couple months the Holy Spirit has been taking opportunities when I sin, worry or become proud to gently remind me that I have fallen short and don't get what I deserve, which is life without God, but rather I get to take part in full communication with God because of the gift of Jesus Christ, which I have done nothing to deserve.
Finally, given the other two lessons, I control nothing and I deserve nothing. The best thing I can do is simply say, "God, have mercy on me, a sinner." Luke 18:13 (follow that link, it's good in context) When this is what my heart crys out, I have peace and joy. I am in the palm of the Creator's hand, helpless and I couldn't be happier. It's when I crawl out of His hand and start taking on the world like Don Quixote as if I could do something, get something more or even just expect something more, that I get stressed out, unable to sleep and generally unhappy. God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
First off, I control nothing. This has been a big theme of this year. No matter how good we are, no matter how right we are, no matter how many risks we eliminate, we are not in control. Rebecca was so prepared for William it was just amazing to me. In the end though, there was no dieting, exercising, vitamin taking, technique learning enough to control that situation. It's just not possible. Same thing last couple weeks, we had absolutely no control of an ectopal pregnancy bursting and causing surgery. Even in my business, I realize I have no control. I can do my best to take care of my customers and I still may fail, or I may succeed and they may want to sue me anyway. I just do not control any situation really. I have control over my emotions and actions and that is pretty much all.
Second, I deserve nothing. This lesson came to me first towards the end of an interesting book from my brother in law. It's called Me, Myself and Bob and I highly recommend it. But one of the stories he tells is about thinking that because he worked hard all night, that he deserves what he receives. Then when he saw another man getting on the train going to what the author suspects is his first job at 4am to probably very unfulfilling, unapreciative work and then to a second equally unrewarding job just to barely support his family. At this moment the Holy Spirit revealed to the author that he didn't deserve better just because of who he was, but that the foot of the cross is level: "for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God," Romans 3:23. God has repeated this lesson for me as well. For the last couple months the Holy Spirit has been taking opportunities when I sin, worry or become proud to gently remind me that I have fallen short and don't get what I deserve, which is life without God, but rather I get to take part in full communication with God because of the gift of Jesus Christ, which I have done nothing to deserve.
Finally, given the other two lessons, I control nothing and I deserve nothing. The best thing I can do is simply say, "God, have mercy on me, a sinner." Luke 18:13 (follow that link, it's good in context) When this is what my heart crys out, I have peace and joy. I am in the palm of the Creator's hand, helpless and I couldn't be happier. It's when I crawl out of His hand and start taking on the world like Don Quixote as if I could do something, get something more or even just expect something more, that I get stressed out, unable to sleep and generally unhappy. God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
Latest Events (2007 sucks)
Well, the last couple weeks have been quite eventful for us. Since I haven't run this story by Rebecca I'll keep it quick. Maybe she will fill in more details later.
Three weeks ago Rebecca thought she had a miscarriage so we went to the hospital and they said, yup, you were pregnant and now you're not. Then the next Saturday, she had intense abdominal pain so we called 911, went to the hospital, found out she had an ectopic (tubal) pregnancy that ruptured and had emergency abdominal surgery to stop the internal bleeding and remove the ruptured tube (everything else is still fine and in place). So for the second time this year we're one week in to a 3 month recovery after significant abdominal surgery again.
2007 sucks
Three weeks ago Rebecca thought she had a miscarriage so we went to the hospital and they said, yup, you were pregnant and now you're not. Then the next Saturday, she had intense abdominal pain so we called 911, went to the hospital, found out she had an ectopic (tubal) pregnancy that ruptured and had emergency abdominal surgery to stop the internal bleeding and remove the ruptured tube (everything else is still fine and in place). So for the second time this year we're one week in to a 3 month recovery after significant abdominal surgery again.
2007 sucks
Sunday, September 30, 2007
What it's like
Well, I have some new perspectives I'd like to share; just some random things I've learned lately. One is that people in grief may just not know what to do. I know many times we just had no idea what to do with ourselves. For instance, I was holding William in bed and then a camera came out and I smiled. I wasn't happy, I just don't know, it was a camera and you smile for the camera. What else should I do? So when encountering grieving people, don't expect them to know what to do or even behave normally. If you are the grieving person, just expect to be without your wits and it's totally OK. It's just what happens.
When we grieve we are exhausted. It's similar to stress, when something is going wrong our brain just runs all night long working over details, what ifs, etc. and we can't sleep until we're totally exhausted, then we wake up late and tired and it's just a bad cycle and it totally snowballs. So that's why at times we're totally exhausted. It's not rocket science, it's just something I wouldn't have expected, but it totally hits you hard.
Finally, what's it like to be us? One of the best analogies I've found is that it's like getting married, but bad. Take the emotional amplitude and invert it and the time line fits pretty well. The first day is a blur, it's crazy. The first week you are on the honeymoon and completely outside real life: it's great. Then you get back to real life, but you're keenly aware that life is radically different . After some time the new situation becomes a little normal, but it's still entirely different than before, it just feels more like normal. Similarly, no matter how much time passes you never forget that you're married, it's just part of normal. That's why this blog is called "The New Normal."
When we grieve we are exhausted. It's similar to stress, when something is going wrong our brain just runs all night long working over details, what ifs, etc. and we can't sleep until we're totally exhausted, then we wake up late and tired and it's just a bad cycle and it totally snowballs. So that's why at times we're totally exhausted. It's not rocket science, it's just something I wouldn't have expected, but it totally hits you hard.
Finally, what's it like to be us? One of the best analogies I've found is that it's like getting married, but bad. Take the emotional amplitude and invert it and the time line fits pretty well. The first day is a blur, it's crazy. The first week you are on the honeymoon and completely outside real life: it's great. Then you get back to real life, but you're keenly aware that life is radically different . After some time the new situation becomes a little normal, but it's still entirely different than before, it just feels more like normal. Similarly, no matter how much time passes you never forget that you're married, it's just part of normal. That's why this blog is called "The New Normal."
Saturday, September 15, 2007
I haven't forgotten to write
I haven't forgotten to write, I've just been out of town and extremely busy the last couple weeks. I've been gone for 3 weeks straight: a week in Gulfport/Biloxi, MS; a week in Denver; and now I'm writing this while on board a 161' yacht I'm finishing in Ft Lauderdale, Florida and once I finish here, I'll be in El Paso for a week (no yachts in El Paso though :( ).
I have been thinking about William a lot and have plenty to write about, I just don't have the two hours it takes me to write two paragraphs. So once life settles back down in a little bit, I'll be back to writing.
Thanks for hanging in there with me.
I have been thinking about William a lot and have plenty to write about, I just don't have the two hours it takes me to write two paragraphs. So once life settles back down in a little bit, I'll be back to writing.
Thanks for hanging in there with me.
Monday, August 20, 2007
My Testimony part 1
I don't know why this has been on my mind lately, but it has so here goes. I always remember being in youth group and hearing crispy critter stories ("I was so close to hell..." "I was sleeping in the gutter,"" I did so many drugs", etc.) and thinking to myself "boy if I had a good story like that and I saw firsthand what God could do for me, I would really believe." That thinking was flawed in so many ways, but alas that's what being young is all about I guess.
First, my testimony is that I didn't have to go through all that junk. God saved my parents and changed their lives long before I came along, and they brought me up to know and follow God. He was good to me before I was even born by providing me with good parents. As I was growing up, I knew other kids in our church and youth group that did all the horrible things (sex, drugs, you name it) the crispy critters did, but God chose to reveal himself to me in no uncertain terms before I got to those stages. I wanted to follow God when I could have started down a very different path. Testimony number one is that God has saved me from so much destruction and so many horrible experiences in the first place.
Second, my foundation has been firm. This kind of dovetails with the first one. Because I didn't have those horrible times of life -- for which I am eternally grateful -- it would be easy to think that God hadn't really been "tested." I'd have to agree that I didn't have a dramatic story. I still don't really have one. If you get thrown out of the airplane and the parachute opens just as it should, it's scary but not catastrophic. Losing a son has been a kick to the heart, and like getting thrown out of a plane you don't have much say in the matter and you'll take all the help you can get. We could not have carried ourselves, but when God shows up, cradles us, takes care of us like never before, like we knew he would, it is no fun at all but still not the end of the world. It hasn't been without uncertainty, outright fear, grief and lots of crying, but our life hasn't crumbled, our faith hasn't cratered, our marriage is strong and our life continues with hope.
God can do incredible restoration with crispy critters, but God can also protect, cradle and guide hearts submitted to Him. So, I think a life of hope and faith is just as dramatic a testimony to the power of God. My personal testimony right now is that we do not grieve like the rest of men who have no hope.
First, my testimony is that I didn't have to go through all that junk. God saved my parents and changed their lives long before I came along, and they brought me up to know and follow God. He was good to me before I was even born by providing me with good parents. As I was growing up, I knew other kids in our church and youth group that did all the horrible things (sex, drugs, you name it) the crispy critters did, but God chose to reveal himself to me in no uncertain terms before I got to those stages. I wanted to follow God when I could have started down a very different path. Testimony number one is that God has saved me from so much destruction and so many horrible experiences in the first place.
Second, my foundation has been firm. This kind of dovetails with the first one. Because I didn't have those horrible times of life -- for which I am eternally grateful -- it would be easy to think that God hadn't really been "tested." I'd have to agree that I didn't have a dramatic story. I still don't really have one. If you get thrown out of the airplane and the parachute opens just as it should, it's scary but not catastrophic. Losing a son has been a kick to the heart, and like getting thrown out of a plane you don't have much say in the matter and you'll take all the help you can get. We could not have carried ourselves, but when God shows up, cradles us, takes care of us like never before, like we knew he would, it is no fun at all but still not the end of the world. It hasn't been without uncertainty, outright fear, grief and lots of crying, but our life hasn't crumbled, our faith hasn't cratered, our marriage is strong and our life continues with hope.
God can do incredible restoration with crispy critters, but God can also protect, cradle and guide hearts submitted to Him. So, I think a life of hope and faith is just as dramatic a testimony to the power of God. My personal testimony right now is that we do not grieve like the rest of men who have no hope.
You Could Have Had
I wrote this the day after my son died and our pastor read this essay at his funeral.
You could have had a great life.
Everyone says being a father gives you a clearer perspective on how your heavenly father sees you. For example, when I looked at my son, I loved him so much I could hardly stand it. It wasn’t because he was so great (which he was of course), because he was good to me or because he did anything for me. I loved him because he was my son, no other reason necessary. I always knew this is how it would be, but now I’ve felt it, it’s real. I understand more now how my heavenly father sees me.He loves me because I’m his son, not because of what I can do for Him, great things I can say about Him or anything, but because He made me to be me.
Yesterday I held my son and discovered quite another perspective from God. I had been anxiously waiting for him to come, I had so many dreams for him. So many things I wanted to teach him and help him experience. He would go mountain biking, rock climbing, scuba diving and sky diving. He would learn to work on cars, work with wood, work on houses. He would learn to be a real man, a servant, a hard worker, a loving husband and a doting father himself some day.
It wouldn’t be perfect all the time. At some point in his life he would have probably yelled, “I hate you Dad!” and slammed the door. I might have yelled back, “I don’t care, I hated you first.” But really, he could never get away from my love. There would never be any time I wouldn’t drive off the end of the world to get him back. All these things he missed out on, he never had a chance to experience them. As I laid him down in his crib for the last time I whispered in his little ear, “You could have had a great life.”
When my heavenly father lays me down for the last time I don’t want him to say, “You could have had a great life.” I don’t want Him to say, “You could have had joy, you could have had freedom, and you could have had peace. I wanted to teach you to trust Me; I would have taken care of you. I wanted to teach you to live fully and abundantly; I would have provided for you. I wanted to help you with your burden; I would have taken it for you. I wanted to calm your fears and restore your hope; it’s what I do best.”
It won’t be perfect. At some point, maybe several points, in my life I may yell, “I hate you God!” and slam the door. He will always say, ”I don’t care, I will always love you.” There will never be any time He won’t turn over Heaven and earth to get me back.
Don’t miss out on all God offers you. Don’t get to the end of a good life apart from God only to hear, “You could have had... a great life.”
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Permission to Use
I have had several requests to use various parts of my blog and our story in sermons, talks, speeches, discussions, etc. Anyone has permission to use my story and or blog entries. It's on the internet so it doesn't get much more public than that.
I do request that you let me know when you use my story or entries. It's encouraging to hear my blog entries have wings, travel about and have a positive impact in peoples lives. If possible I'd really love to hear or see a copy of the sermon, speech, talk or whatever.
I'm encouraged when other people see value in my questions and thoughts. Thank you again for your support and interest.
I do request that you let me know when you use my story or entries. It's encouraging to hear my blog entries have wings, travel about and have a positive impact in peoples lives. If possible I'd really love to hear or see a copy of the sermon, speech, talk or whatever.
I'm encouraged when other people see value in my questions and thoughts. Thank you again for your support and interest.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Why I Give AKA God Pt II
When I was maybe 4 or 5 I was sitting in a church conference with my parents in a hotel ballroom with jade green paisley carpet, green covered chairs and dark jade and gold curtains covering the windows. It came to the part of the service where they collected the tithes and offerings and passed the baskets. My mom handed me a quarter and told me to put in the basket. When the basket came along, I quickly slipped the quarter in my pocket and passed the basket on. My mom, being the shrewd woman she was, caught the slight of hand and took the basket back. She said, "Why did you keep the quarter when I told you to put it in the basket?" I said, "because you gave it to me." "Yes, but if I ask you to put it in the basket and you don't, why should I give you another quarter?"
We see in the Bible that God expects a tithe from us out of obedience and out of trust. If we don't obey God's commands; if we don't trust what God says is true in everyday matters such as money and possessions, how can we believe we will be able to trust or obey when it comes to important matters.
Let's say I had not been a faithful tither, let's say I chose not to obey, let's say I did not trust God with my money. If I arrived at my present set of circumstances in this condition it would be nearly impossible for me to suddenly, honestly begin trusting God. I couldn't start at this point and suddenly believe that He knows what's going on, that He wants the best for me or know that He will provide for me.
In my current situation I'm grateful that Rebecca and I decided to make a habit of trusting and obeying years ago when the 'trust and obey' wasn't on such an incredible scale. We didn't just stand up after William died and say we'll trust God now because we have nothing else to do. We stand up and say God has been good to us for years and He still is, right now.
God asks us to put our quarters in the basket, we do, and he always gives us more quarters.
We see in the Bible that God expects a tithe from us out of obedience and out of trust. If we don't obey God's commands; if we don't trust what God says is true in everyday matters such as money and possessions, how can we believe we will be able to trust or obey when it comes to important matters.
Let's say I had not been a faithful tither, let's say I chose not to obey, let's say I did not trust God with my money. If I arrived at my present set of circumstances in this condition it would be nearly impossible for me to suddenly, honestly begin trusting God. I couldn't start at this point and suddenly believe that He knows what's going on, that He wants the best for me or know that He will provide for me.
In my current situation I'm grateful that Rebecca and I decided to make a habit of trusting and obeying years ago when the 'trust and obey' wasn't on such an incredible scale. We didn't just stand up after William died and say we'll trust God now because we have nothing else to do. We stand up and say God has been good to us for years and He still is, right now.
God asks us to put our quarters in the basket, we do, and he always gives us more quarters.
Ups and Downs
Well, this last weekend was extremely tough. First, I went to Oshkosh, WI for my annual airplane dreaming vacation at the EAA Airventure show. It's a collection of 2,500 or more airplanes of all types: old "war birds", business jets, geneal aviation, gliders, military fighters, homebuilt and experimental airplanes, floatplanes, helicopters, ultra-lights... I think you get the picture that it's a lot of flying things.
That show and that vacation time is one of my favorite times of year, and it just struck me like a ton of bricks that I won't be able to bring him along. As my buddies and I sat around the beer garden till midnight, I thought that in 21 years he won't be there with me, enjoying what we've been enjoying all this time, telling stories among friends. I saw so many little boys walking around the show with their dads, excitedly running and pointing at almost every single airplane they saw, shielding their eyes to watch the airshow and I don't have my little boy. Almost to top it off, there was a new childrens cartoon debuted at the show called Andy's Airplanes. (it really is quite cute I think) I walked by it almost every day, and boy if that isn't just salt in the wound, I don't know what is.
I don't know if you guys noticed, but his little outfit at the funeral had airplanes on it because I knew we would enjoy airplanes together.
So Sunday night when I got back, we had a long cry about that. Then Monday was the 30th which is the six month mark and that was hard too. We had another good cry about that and filled my ears up again. When you cry while lying on your back, your tears run into your ears until it sounds like you're in an aquarium.
So really, I don't think the pain lessens, it just gets concentrated from the easier every day events into the harder meaningful events. I kind of feel like a 9/11 survivor; we'll survive, but we'll never forget.
That show and that vacation time is one of my favorite times of year, and it just struck me like a ton of bricks that I won't be able to bring him along. As my buddies and I sat around the beer garden till midnight, I thought that in 21 years he won't be there with me, enjoying what we've been enjoying all this time, telling stories among friends. I saw so many little boys walking around the show with their dads, excitedly running and pointing at almost every single airplane they saw, shielding their eyes to watch the airshow and I don't have my little boy. Almost to top it off, there was a new childrens cartoon debuted at the show called Andy's Airplanes. (it really is quite cute I think) I walked by it almost every day, and boy if that isn't just salt in the wound, I don't know what is.
I don't know if you guys noticed, but his little outfit at the funeral had airplanes on it because I knew we would enjoy airplanes together.
So Sunday night when I got back, we had a long cry about that. Then Monday was the 30th which is the six month mark and that was hard too. We had another good cry about that and filled my ears up again. When you cry while lying on your back, your tears run into your ears until it sounds like you're in an aquarium.
So really, I don't think the pain lessens, it just gets concentrated from the easier every day events into the harder meaningful events. I kind of feel like a 9/11 survivor; we'll survive, but we'll never forget.
Monday, July 16, 2007
General Life Update
Well, here's the general life update. We are doing better. In previous posts I said it feels like we're still descending, but now, I would say we've turned the corner and are making the climb out.
There are still setbacks and some very sad times still, but overall, life is improving.
Thank you for all your support and thank you for remembering us.
There are still setbacks and some very sad times still, but overall, life is improving.
Thank you for all your support and thank you for remembering us.
Friday, June 15, 2007
A quick visit to left field ...cause it's my page.
This is totally off topic as I am just sharing what I have found to be one of the greatest cleaning tips around. It's my page and... well that's all, but here we go. Have two drinks before you start, then a drink an hour to keep your momentum. This may be shocking to some of you, but I'll give you two reasons it works and to give it a try.
Reason One: I don't like cleaning. I'd rather be doing something else, but cleaning and organizing just have to be done. Now take some good rural folk, give em a few drinks and its suddenly a good idea to go pushing around 1800 pound cattle in their field at night. No one knows why, it just suddenly is. Same thing here, I'm just sitting in front of the TV and suddenly it's a good idea to get some of this junk out of my way, and make noise with a vacuum cleaner and such. I don't know why; it just works for me.
Reason Two: I keep less stuff. As I come across junk I'm less likely to think "hmm, this has the subtle yet distinct look of things that are suddenly super necessary at some point beyond 15 years from now. What if that fateful day arrives, and I'm unprepared?!? I must keep it!" and I'm more likely to think all in one breath, "what's this? Dunno" Kerplunk! Or when looking at clothes I don't think something silly like, "this was my favorite shirt in junior high. I used to be so cool. I'm going to start working out this year you know. I'll fit into it again soon, you'll see..." and instead think, "oh crap! I don't need this as evidence against me!" Swish!
So there they are. I should make an infomercial and sell "cleaning kits" in the middle of the night. Anyway, I've been using this system for my last couple large cleaning jobs and it has drastically improved my cleaning performance, and I haven't regretted one thing I've thrown out. I usually just regret the things I keep.
PS: I do donate everything of value to a local charity. Not everything goes into the actual trash and don't drive anywhere after you're done cleaning, just check out my infomercial on TV.
PPS: No, I didn't have anything to drink before writing this. ;)
Reason One: I don't like cleaning. I'd rather be doing something else, but cleaning and organizing just have to be done. Now take some good rural folk, give em a few drinks and its suddenly a good idea to go pushing around 1800 pound cattle in their field at night. No one knows why, it just suddenly is. Same thing here, I'm just sitting in front of the TV and suddenly it's a good idea to get some of this junk out of my way, and make noise with a vacuum cleaner and such. I don't know why; it just works for me.
Reason Two: I keep less stuff. As I come across junk I'm less likely to think "hmm, this has the subtle yet distinct look of things that are suddenly super necessary at some point beyond 15 years from now. What if that fateful day arrives, and I'm unprepared?!? I must keep it!" and I'm more likely to think all in one breath, "what's this? Dunno" Kerplunk! Or when looking at clothes I don't think something silly like, "this was my favorite shirt in junior high. I used to be so cool. I'm going to start working out this year you know. I'll fit into it again soon, you'll see..." and instead think, "oh crap! I don't need this as evidence against me!" Swish!
So there they are. I should make an infomercial and sell "cleaning kits" in the middle of the night. Anyway, I've been using this system for my last couple large cleaning jobs and it has drastically improved my cleaning performance, and I haven't regretted one thing I've thrown out. I usually just regret the things I keep.
PS: I do donate everything of value to a local charity. Not everything goes into the actual trash and don't drive anywhere after you're done cleaning, just check out my infomercial on TV.
PPS: No, I didn't have anything to drink before writing this. ;)
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
The God Thing Part1
This will be just part 1 of who knows how many. All night is not long enough to tell about all we've learned and all God has done for us. First what we've experienced has only proved Scripture and grown our faith. We don't cling to Scripture as though we hope it comes true, but rather stand on it as it has already happened and been proven true. For example: "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him,[j] who[k] have been called according to his purpose." Romans 8:28 NIV A simple interpretation is that God never wastes a hurt. In all things, even this thing, God is at work for my good. This has happened. I am a different, better person. We have seen all kinds of restoration directly resulting from this tragedy. If left up to me I would never trade William, but God did use this hurt to work good in other areas.
God did not cause this. He didnt' take my baby. We live in a fallen world where Satan can do stuff. "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." John 10:10 NIV
That's it in a nutshell. I'll expand on this plenty more, but I wanted to let you know where we stand: what we believe and more importantly what we know. We know God is good.
God did not cause this. He didnt' take my baby. We live in a fallen world where Satan can do stuff. "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." John 10:10 NIV
That's it in a nutshell. I'll expand on this plenty more, but I wanted to let you know where we stand: what we believe and more importantly what we know. We know God is good.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
