Wave of Light

     Today has been named Infant Loss Awareness Day. On October 15, we remember all those babies who are no longer here with us on earth. So many suffer loss in silence. But I believe with all my heart that every life matters. Please join me tonight in honoring all of the beautiful babies lost to miscarriage, stillbirth, and neonatal death. I will be lighting my candle tonight in honor of Caroline, and also in honor of my dear friend's daughter Mira, who went to heaven with Caroline on June 17. 
     I have met so many strong and beautiful women on this journey. They have not only openly shared the stories of their own losses, but they have come alongside of me in my own grief. I am so incredibly thankful for the friendships that I have made, and for the bond that we share. I have met an amazing group of women who have continued to carry or carried a baby diagnosed with Limb Body Wall Complex, which is what Caroline also had. My heart is broken for the losses we must bear, but I do know that all of our sweet babies are watching over us. 
     Tonight I am praying for all of the mom's who have had to face the tragedy of losing a baby. My heart breaks for each and every loss. But I am also praising God for the hope we have of seeing our little ones again in heaven. 
     

Healing Rain

Tears

For hopes not gone, nor are my dreams
the light it still shines through
and with the help of angels wings
I find my way, from here to you.

So when the tears fall in the night
and fear creeps up, I say
the angels are all guarding me
so fear.....go on your way!

Its ok to cry the tears
for they wash away the pain
They're a symbol of the love we shared
and as needed as the rain.

 

 

     I love the rain! It always makes me feel so alive! I think that it is because rain is life giving to so many things. The trees, grass, and flowers all need rain in order to live. Think about how beautiful the world looks after a good rain shower. Everything just looks more vibrant and alive. I always enjoy waking up the morning after a thunderstorm, and looking out my bedroom window. It is such a great reminder of how God provides for everything, even for the needs of the natural world around us. If he cares so much for the grass and the trees that he sends rain at just the right time, how much more must he care for his children?

     Today as I was laying on the couch, sick with a miserable cold, I could hear the gentle rain falling outside of the window. It brought a smile to my face as I thought of all the ways that God cares for me. Every moment, without a doubt, God has been ever present in my life. He knows my deepest needs and my greatest fears. He sees my weakest moments and quiet tears. But the greatest part is that he not only knows...but he also provides. He provides for my deepest needs, he calms my greatest fears, he strengthens me in my weakest moments, and holds tightly to each quiet tear that I cry.

     I cannot help but stand completely thankful for everything that I have been given. I do struggle, and I do feel intense pain and sadness each and every day. But yet I am beyond blessed in so many ways. God has given me a beautiful life, and an amazing family. I have a good job, a warm and dry house, and a couch on which to rest when I am sick. I have hot chocolate to soothe my sore throat, and a good book to enjoy! I have a husband who loves me and takes care of me, even when I look yucky and sick. I have amazing friends who have stood by my side, even when I have not been at my best. I have the love and support from so many wonderful people. I have seen the genuine kindness of so many people. As I continue to walk down this journey of grief and healing, I have found that it brings such joy to my heart when I think about the beautiful outpouring of love that has come from so many. I am truly beyond blessed!

     On nights like tonight, I love to sit and count my blessings, and take time to praise the God who has been there for me in my darkest of moments. He is the great Provider! I want to encourage anyone who is going through a difficult situation, or struggling to stay afloat amidst the waves of life, to look to the God who knows and who provides. He will provide exactly what you need, even in the worst of times. Trust me, I have been that girl who has cried out to him when I did not know what else to do. I have been that girl who has cried out  to him in anger. I have been that girl who has cried out to him in pain and hopelessness. But the beauty is that God understands. He does not turn away from us when we are angry or upset. In fact, it is when we cry out to him that I believe he draws the closest. In fact Psalm 34:17-20 says,

The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them;
    he delivers them from all their troubles.
 The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
    and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

 The righteous person may have many troubles,
    but the Lord delivers him from them all;
 he protects all his bones,
    not one of them will be broken.

 

Lean on him, and he will never let you go.

      I am thankful for the clean, fresh air that comes in the wake of a rainy day. In the same way, when we cry out to God, and we truly open our hearts up to him, he will provide the healing that we need so desperately.

 

 

 

Healing Rain

Healing rain is coming down
It's coming nearer to this old town
Rich and poor, weak and strong
It's bringing mercy, it won't be long

 

Healing rain is coming down
It's coming closer to the lost and found
Tears of joy, and tears of shame
Are washed forever in Jesus' name

 

Healing rain, it comes with fire
So let it fall and take us higher
Healing rain, I'm not afraid
To be washed in Heaven's rain

 

Lift your heads, let us return
To the mercy seat where time began
And in your eyes, I see the pain
Come soak this dry heart with healing rain

 

And only You, the Son of man
Can take a leper and let him stand
So lift your hands, they can be held
By someone greater, the great I Am

Healing rain, it comes with fire
So let it fall and take us higher

 

  Healing rain, I'm not afraid
To be washed in Heaven's rain

To be washed in Heaven's rain...

Healing rain is falling down
Healing rain is falling down
I'm not afraid

Michael W. Smith



Guilt

 

The LORD your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.

                                                                                                     Zephaniah 3:17

 

    
     Grief is not just a simple word. In fact, as time goes on, I have quickly realized that there are so many thoughts and feelings that accompany grief. It reaches to the very depths of your heart, mind, and body. Not only do I feel the grief mentally and emotionally, but it also affects my body physically as well. Often I find myself completely exhausted, feeling as though I have no strength left to stand. I honestly think that grief is a full time job.
     Throughout this entire journey I have been overcome by guilt. It hits me in the most unexpected moments, and yet it does not pass. I feel it moment by moment, day after day. It plays over and over in my head. The reality is so hard to admit, the pain is just too great to bear.  Yet the truth stands, I COULD NOT save my baby. I am her mom, she counted on me. It was my job to protect her, it was my job to save her. But I couldn't
     Ever since that day in November, when I found out that I was pregnant, everything that I did was for her. I was so careful about the foods that I ate, how much water I drank, that I got enough rest and sleep, and that I took my vitamins without fail. I spent hours reading about what to do when your pregnant, and what not to do when your pregnant. I wanted to do everything possible to give my baby the best start to life.
     But when we were told that our baby could not survive outside of the womb, I was left helpless. Even though I did everything that I could do to take care of her, it was not enough. They told us that she could not and would not live. But I am her mother, I wanted to save her. I wanted to protect her. I wanted to give her the best life. Yet the reality hung heavy over my head, there was nothing that I could do for her.
     The doctor told me there was nothing that I had done to cause this, that it just happens. But still I feel guilty. There must have been something that I did wrong. The doctor told me there was nothing that we could do to save her, that there is a 0% survival rate. But still I feel guilty. There must have been something, anything, that I could have done to save her. She was so tiny, so helpless, she needed me, and I could not help her.
     Last week I went to CPR training. It hit me in a way that I never would have imagined. The moment I saw those plastic baby dummies laying on the table, my mind went a hundred miles an hour. As they were talking about performing life saving CPR on an infant, the guilt hit me again. There I sat, learning about how to save the life of someone else's baby, but I could not save the life of my own baby. I got angry in that moment. I felt like the biggest failure. I was angry at myself, for not saving her. There was no amount of CPR that could have saved Caroline's life. I know that. But it still breaks my heart, just knowing that in her greatest time of need, I could not help her.
     Slowly I have found that the nightmares are going away. But for months I was plagued with the worst nightmares. I would wake up sweating and crying, feeling the guilt tightening  in my chest. I know that this is normal, that often nightmares come along with grief. Yet for so long I found myself staying awake. Keeping myself busy so I did not have to sleep. I would purposely read, write, or watch the TV just to stay awake. I did not want to have those dreams, where I was forced to watch my daughter suffering while I stood by powerless to help. It was better to be exhausted from no sleep, than to be exhausted from the intense pain and guilt that I would feel in the wake of the nightmares. I am so thankful that God is slowly bringing me into a safe place once again. I still have nights where I lay awake all night, my mind reliving memories over and over again. I still have nights when I am hit with an awful nightmare, and then another and then another. I still have nights when I toss and I turn, my arms aching and my heart heavy. I still have nights when the minutes tick by slowly, and the night seems to last forever. I know that a big part of my nightmares comes straight from the guilt that overwhelms my entire body. I just cannot live with myself some days, because I could not save her. All day those thoughts of guilt play through my head, of things I could have done, or things I wish I would have been able to do for her. Then all night those thoughts of guilt play through my dreams. It never goes away. It never gets easier.
    The guilt accompanies me in my every day life. It eats at my heart and it eats at my mind. I want it to go away. I want it to leave and never come back. I know what people say, that it is not my fault, that I did everything that I could. But still I feel guilty, because the reality is that I am her mom. When a baby is born into this world it is so tiny, and so helpless. A baby relies on adults for everything. Babies need food, and warmth, love, and lots of special care. There is nothing that they can do to help themselves. When my sweet little girl was placed gently into my arms, I immediately felt those instincts kick in. I wanted to start taking care of her right away. I wanted to shield her from the hurt and the pain. I wanted her to know that everything was okay, and that I would be there for her always. I wanted her to know that I would protect her and keep her safe. But none of those things, absolutely none of those things could I give her. I could not shield her from the reality. I could not promise that everything was okay, and that I would be there for her always. I could not protect her, and I could not keep her safe. I am her mom, but I just could not save her.  
 

    
     It is so difficult to erase the guilt. I know that it will probably always be there, just like the grief. As much as I want it to go away, I know that it is a part of my journey, a part of the healing and grieving process. I have learned that it is okay to feel, and it is okay to hurt. When I am feeling guilty, I do not have to push it away, just because it does not seem valid. I know that many people tell me that I have nothing to feel guilty about, that there is nothing I could have done to save her life. But honestly, that does not make me feel better. Because the reality is that I wanted to save her, I wanted to give her everything and more. She is my daughter and I only wanted the very best for her. I am guilty, truly guilty, because I did not do that for her. I am a failure, because I did not protect her, and most of all I could not give her life. 
     When I realize that my feelings are real, and that the guilt is very real, I know that I am powerless to change it. So therefore I have started to think about it in a different way. Instead of focusing on all of the ways that I failed her, I choose to focus on all of the good memories. I choose to remember all the hours I spent talking to her each day. I choose to remember all of the songs that I sang to her. I choose to remember the countless minutes I would loose track of the world around me as I watched and rubbed my moving belly. I choose to remember the books I read to her, and the movies we watched together. I choose to remember all of the things I taught her how to do. I choose to remember the sound of her steady beating heart. I choose to remember the joy I felt as we watched her moving around on the ultrasound screen. I choose to remember the trips we took together. I choose to remember all the nights we baked and cooked together. I choose to remember the afternoons we spent outside on the deck. I choose to remember the quiet dark evenings in bed, when she would snuggle up all warm and cozy on whichever side I was laying. I choose to remember all the new joys that came along with being pregnant. I choose to remember the peace that overwhelmed me as we left that early Tuesday morning for the hospital. I choose to remember the kindness of all the doctors and nurses. I choose to remember the hours that Josh and I sat just watching her move and hearing her heartbeat on the monitor. I choose to remember the way she was moving around just before they covered my belly with the blue sheet. I choose to remember the pure love that filled every ounce of my body as they placed her in daddy's arms. I choose to remember every tiny detail of her precious and perfect little body. I choose to remember how it felt to have her in my arms. I choose to remember those 19 miraculous minutes where time seemed to stand still. I choose to remember how everything just felt right having our family of three together. I choose to remember the joy and the sorrow that were very present throughout the day. I choose to remember those tiny little fingers and those tiny little toes. I choose to remember the smiling faces and the sad tears that just seemed so fitting. I choose to remember giving her a first and only bath. I choose to remember softly combing out her curly dark hair. I choose to remember the beauty of my daughter. I choose to remember how everything just felt so right and so complete when she was there. I choose to remember that she was a gift to us from our Almighty God. I choose to thank Him each day, for allowing us the privilege of being her parents. 
     I know that the guilt will never go away. But when it hits me, I am learning that I need to instead focus on the blessings that we were given. God gave us the precious gift of time. I am so thankful that we were able to give Caroline a lifetime of love in the short time that we were given. Even though I will always feel guilty, and I will always feel like a failure, I know that during the time she spent on earth, I did the very best that I could for her. I tried my best to give her everything that I could, with the time that I was given. And for that.. I am thankful!

Dear Caroline, I Thought About You Today...

Dear Caroline,

     I thought about you today, just like I do every minute of every day. I thought about the things we might have been doing today. I am sure that I would have rushed home from work, just to be able to hold you in my arms. I am sure I would have hugged you so tightly, and kissed your little face all over. I am sure that I would have sang to you and talked to you as I cooked dinner, and I would have smiled as I watched you gaze around in interest. I would have snuggled you, fed you, changed you, read to you, and played with you, as we watched the sun slowly fade into the darkness. But tonight Caroline, I had no reason to rush home from work. There was no smile of greeting on your face to look forward to. There was no baby soft hair to stroke, and no giggle of excitement when you saw me coming. Instead there was a silent house. A quiet that reached to my very soul.
     My dear Caroline, it never goes away. There are the constant reminders of what could have been, that are only too quickly overshadowed by the never will be. So many of the joys that I looked forward to sharing with you, are now just painful reminders of what we will never have together. Those moments when we could have been bonding like a mother and child should, will never happen for us. The 35 beautiful weeks we shared together passed so quickly, and are now just memories. My sweet girl, I pray with all my heart that during those weeks you knew, you knew that I lived each moment to prove how much I loved you. I pray that you know how much I still love you. I love you with a depth that I can never describe in words. You are my baby, my beautiful daughter. You will always be my baby, my precious miracle from above. My hope dear Caroline is that you can remember the hundreds of times each day that I told you I loved you while you were still safe and growing inside. I love you my beautiful girl. I will always and forever love you with the deepest love, a love that has only grown stronger the longer we are apart.
     On Friday I went to visit your special place. It is so hard for me to call it your grave, because it just seems so cold and final. I find comfort in calling it your special place, because as difficult as it is to visit, I find such beauty in sitting there beside you. This time it was different when I went to visit you. The headstone that we created to mark where your body now lays was placed into the ground. There in shiny gold letters, I saw your name. Your beautiful name. Caroline Joy Mulder. I cried as I ran my fingers over the cold raised letters. I always imagined seeing your name on so many things, but never on a headstone. The pain filled my heart as reality set in. This will forever be the place where your body lays. No matter how much I scream for you to cry, or to wake up, your body will never be seen again on earth. Sometimes I panic, and I think that I hear you cry. Maybe I was wrong, and you really are okay. I wish that I could just rip away the dirt, so I can pull you back safely into my arms once again. Because I would do anything, absolutely anything, to see your little face once again. But that is not reality. Instead I walk back to my car, alone and empty handed. You are not crying out for me, it is only my mind playing tricks on my sad heart. I cannot just wish you back into existence, because this is the path that God has chosen for us.
     On my way home tonight, I thought about the song that we played at your memorial service three months ago. It is a song that has always been close to your mommy's heart, but never more real than now. In the song it says " But as the thunder rolls I barely hear Your whisper through the rain "I'm with you" and as Your mercy falls I raise my hands and praise the God who gives and takes away". Caroline, your mommy praised God from the moment I knew you were alive. I was so in awe at the miracle of your existence, and the gift that you were to me. I continued to praise God throughout each of those weeks, knowing you were being formed so fearfully and wonderfully. But then he chose to take you away, and after 19 short minutes, we had to say goodbye. It is so hard to accept that you are really gone. It is so hard to accept that we will never again see you here on this earth. I admit wholeheartedly that I do not understand why God chose to take you into heaven so soon. I may never understand why he took you away from a family who wanted you and loved you so deeply. But I do know that I will continue to praise your Maker. He is still my sovereign God, and he remains in control. There are so many times when I do not know if my foot will hit solid ground, or when the next wave will sweep me under once again. But I do know that God never lets me go. He holds your mommy close, and continues to whisper "I'm with you". Even though I am walking down the darkest journey of my life, I will lift my hands and praise the God who gives and who takes away.
     Caroline as the days pass I find that it does not get easier. The reality is that I miss you more today than I did one month ago. The longer that time moves forward, the deeper the ache grows inside of my heart. Running my fingers over the smooth lettering on your headstone made me realize how much I miss seeing your name. I do not receive mail with your name on it. I do not see your name in colorful bold lettering on a wall in your bedroom. I sadly do not have many opportunities to write out your name in my day to day life. Slowly I forgot how beautiful your name looks when it is written. But now I will have one place where it will always be visible. A very special place where I can go to talk to you, sing to you, remember you, pray, and cry. I hate that it has to be this way, but I would not trade those moments for the world. The moments when it is just you and me, feeling the wind blow through my hair, and seeing the fluffy clouds form above. Watching as the butterflies dance through the green grass from flower to flower. Those moments when I truly feel like you are sitting there next to me, leaning your head on my shoulder as I talk to you. Those moments when I can feel your hand grasp mine as I sing your favorite songs. Those moments when the tears fall down my face, and I am powerless to stop them from coming. Those moments when I feel my heart beating, not just for me, but for you as well. Those moments are powerful reminders of the love that I hold for you deep inside my heart. Those moments are powerful reminders of the beautiful memories that we were able to share together. Those moments are powerful reminders of a faithful God, who loves you dear Caroline more than your mommy could ever love you. Those moments are powerful reminders that God loves me, and comforts me in the times of deepest pain and sorrow. Those moments bring me to my knees in praise of a God who gives, and who takes away.

I love you my beautiful Caroline. Until we meet again...

                           Sending you all of my love,
                                    Mommy
    
    
    

October Awareness

During month of October we raise awareness for infant loss. Please join me in breaking the silence. I am a proud mom of a beautiful baby girl. Her name is Caroline Joy Mulder. I was blessed to give birth to Caroline on June 17, and hold her in my arms for 19 miraculous minutes. The hardest thing I have ever had to do was say goodbye to her, and leave the hospital with empty arms. Every day since I had to say goodbye has been incredibly challenging, painful, and sad. But I keep moving forward slowly, one foot at a time. I want to live my life to the fullest, so that I can honor my daughter with every breath that I take. I will speak her name, and share her story for as long as I live. I thank God every single day for allowing me to be her mom!  I love you always and forever Caroline Joy. You will always hold a very special place in my heart.

The Arms of Jesus

"Dear Lord, I would have loved to have held my baby on my lap and tell her about you, but since I didn't get the chance, would you please hold Caroline on your lap and tell her about me?"

     This morning as Josh and I were getting into our car for church, I looked up at the dark sky above me. The rain pounded onto my face, physically reminding me that I am still alive. Yet somehow the rain and the darkness of the morning just seemed fitting. While I was getting ready for church, I had a moment of sadness. As I gazed out across our backyard, I noticed all of the leaves that had fallen off the trees. Already it looks like fall has arrived in our backyard. No longer does the grass look vibrantly green, and there is definitely a chill in the air. The deck that I once sat on for so many afternoons with sweet Caroline inside, now looked cold and wet. I remembered all those moments that I spent outside with Caroline. We would sit for hours talking about the birds, and the leaves, and the squirrels, and the flowers. I would sit in awe as her little body squirmed around inside. She loved being outside with me, I could just feel it. Whenever we felt that warm sunshine, she would start moving and kicking. It brought such joy to my heart to share those amazing moments together.
     This summer, while I was recovering from her birth, I spent hours outside on my deck. When I felt completely helpless, and did not know what else to do, I would go outside and sit on the deck. There I would feel so close to her. As I watched the butterflies flutter and play, it brought tears to my eyes. Those butterflies were such a beautiful reminder. I could just picture her smiling and playing up in heaven. As I felt the sunshine warm my face and my body, I felt renewed. The sun brought light into my darkness, and I could feel my hope being restored. As I watched the flowers bloom into their brilliant colors, I was amazed. Caroline and I had spent time watering the flowers together during the early months of spring, and now I was able to see the beautiful fruits of our labor. The flowers reminded me of how fragile and delicate life can be.
     During those summer months I enjoyed the peace and the quiet. I enjoyed the stillness, and the beauty, and the simple pleasures. It was a time for me to think, to feel, to reflect, and to grieve. There were many tears shed on that deck throughout the summer. Tears of joy and tears of hope, but also many tears of sorrow, pain, and sadness. How much I longed to have her back. To know that we could enjoy those tiny miracles together once again. I wanted to teach her more about the flowers, and have her feel the warmth of the sunshine on her face. I wanted her to feel the cold water on her tiny toes, and to watch as the squirrels climbed high into the trees. I wanted to show her the puffy white clouds, and to hear the sounds of an airplane flying overhead. But this summer, it was only me.
     This morning as I looked out at the deck, I realized how many memories it holds. It not only reminds me of the happy times, when Caroline and I enjoyed many special moments together, but it also reminds me of the sad times, when I was grieving the loss of my daughter. Now as I see the changing of the seasons, I realize that I am again stepping into a new season of my own life. Soon the deck will be covered in leaves, and it will be too cold to sit outside in my chair. It brought tears to my eyes as I realized that this will now be another step away from those joy filled memories. I will forever hold them in my heart, but it will just never be the same.
     The days of my recovery from surgery are now over, and the reality of life has quickly taken hold. I find myself struggling to find time to accomplish even the most basic tasks, because of how busy life can be. No longer do I have time to just sit and smile as the butterflies play, nor do I have time to observe the delicate beauty of the roses. I do not have the time to just sit and wait for the hummingbird to make its brief appearance at my feeder. I even struggle to find the time to just sit in the silence. Instead I am rushing from one activity the next, with a whole list of "to dos" inside my head. It is not where I want to be, and yet it is the reality of life. It is so easy to fill my plate full of activities, and work, and tasks, that I forget to take the time to reflect and enjoy the little miracles.
     In the midst of the craziness of life, I have to remind myself to slow down. I have to remind myself that it is okay if the laundry does not get done tonight, or if the house is still messy from the day before. I have to remind myself that I do not have to go to the store right this minute, and that it is going to be okay if the dishwasher has not been emptied yet. These things can wait. Sometimes I need to just give myself permission to stop, and to relax, and to enjoy the beauty that is all around me. Because it is in those moments, that I can truly feel the presence of God. There are so many days where I am struggling, and I do not know how I am going to keep moving forward. I feel so overcome with sadness and darkness and pain. Those days I just cry out to God, asking him to take it away. But there are so many times when I just can't feel his presence. Even after I call out to him, I am still in such an awful place. But it is not until I take the time to stop, and to actually breathe and reflect, that I can truly feel him surrounding me with his incredible love. I believe he is reaching out to me in those moments, but sometimes I am just too busy to realize it.
     This morning as I looked out at the deck, it was a powerful reminder to not get so caught up in the busyness of life. It is so easy to make myself busy so that I forget, and so that I do not have time to feel. But the reality is that I need to take those moments, even if they are incredibly painful and sad, and I need to embrace them. I need to be looking for the little miracles, that can so easily pass me by, because they bring joy to my aching heart. I need to find time to be silent, because that is when I can hear God's voice. I need to allow myself time to feel sad, because that is when I can feel the comfort of God overwhelm me. I need to take the time to remember, because that is how I am going to heal.
     This morning as the rain fell upon my face, I imagined what it would be like to be carrying my Caroline into church. I imagined myself covering up her car seat, to protect her from the wind and the rain. I imagined holding her close as we sang the songs together in worship. But most of all, I imagined what it would be like to be able to teach her about Jesus. You see, every night when I was pregnant, Josh and I would read her a Bible story. It was a very special time for all of us. As I was sitting in church this morning, I realized that I will not be given the opportunity to teach her about Jesus as she grows up. However, it brought tears to my eyes as I pictured her now, sitting in the lap of Jesus. I do not need to teach her about him, because she already knows more than I could ever teach her. She does not have to learn about Jesus, because she already KNOWS Jesus!
    

 

 

     Each night as I go to bed, I pray that God would tell her just how much I love her. It is so hard to not be able to say it to my sweet girl each day. Oh how it hurts to not have the opportunity to tell her how much I love her, and how much I wanted her. There is nothing more painful than having those words so deeply ingrained on your heart, but not being able to share them. I am not able to wake up each morning and say it to her sweet face, as I kiss her tiny cheeks. I am not able to hold her in a tight embrace and whisper it in her ear as she sleeps. I am not able to show her my love each moment of the day. It hurts that I only had 35 short weeks to give her a lifetime of my love.

      It scares me so much to think that she might not know now just how much I love her. It scares me so much to think that she might not know just how much I miss her. It scares me so much to think that she might not know just how much I wanted to hold her close forever. It scares me so much to think that she might not know how proud I am to be her mom. It scares me so much to think that she might now know just how much I love her with every breath that I take.

      But yet deep in my heart, I know that she is being held tight in the loving arms of Jesus. I pray that he can whisper in her little ear just how much her mommy loves her every moment of the day, and how much she is missed here on earth. I pray that Caroline will know how much we wanted to have her here with us, but that we had to let her go. I pray that she knows what a beautiful gift she was to her family, and that we are all so incredibly proud of her. I pray that tonight and every night, that she will not only feel the deep deep love that I hold for her in my heart, but that she will also feel the love of her Heavenly Father, who has loved her since the very beginning of time. As much as it kills me each day to have empty arms, I know that tonight and always she is safely in the loving arms of her Maker. 

Joy in Life

 When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world.                                                                                    
                                                                                                                               John 16:21


    
     This morning I was filled with joy as I read this Bible verse in my devotions. Any mother who has gone through the intense pains of labor can relate. There is nothing great about those painful contractions! However, once the baby makes a grand entrance (and I do mean grand!) into the world, there is no memory of the pain, only the joy! Once that baby is gently placed into your arms, and you see the evidence of a brand new life, the pain is replaced by love, pure love. We can truly thank God for the beautiful miracle of birth!
     It struck me this morning about the amazing beauty of life. In just 9 short months, God creates a new life. Even the smallest details, such as the fingernails, eyelids, eyebrows, and lips are so perfectly formed. As I look at the pictures of my daughter, I cannot help but be amazed at what a great God we serve! Although Caroline was born at 35 weeks, everything about her tiny body was so intricately created. She was so beautiful!
     Everyday I stand humbled at the gift that God chose to give to Josh and I.  As I walk around our house gazing at her pictures, I am reminded over and over again of  our blessings. Not only were we given 35 beautiful weeks to cherish the life of our daughter, but we were also given 19 minutes to hold and love on her while she was with us on this earth. We can also look forward to the day when we will once again hold her in our arms forever. It is such a beautiful promise that we will one day be reunited again with Caroline in heaven!
    On my way into work this morning, I struggled to see through the heavy fog. It surrounded my entire car, and I was thankful for the headlights on the cars driving around me.  Without those lights, I would have been helpless to drive safely through the darkness and the fog. As I was scanning the road ahead of me, I was hit with a thought. At this time, my life seems to be stuck in a fog. There is no consistency in my life right now. I cannot tell you from one moment to the next how I am going to feel. Often the tears hit without any warning. The shadows of grief can creep into my heart when I least expect them. I do not anticipate tomorrow, because sometimes it is hard enough to get through today. There are so many moments of sorrow and of grief, where the pain consumes my whole being. But I find that there are other moments when I feel such incredible joy, and my heart feels full from the strength of God, and the love of others. Being in a fog is not easy, in fact, I have found it impossible to plan my life while I am in the midst of it.
     I have noticed that often I feel like my life is just stuck. I am stuck between remembering the past, and embracing the future. It is an extremely difficult place to stand, and I do not  necessarily know where to go from here. But even though I am stuck in a fog right now, I know that eventually God will break through the fog of my life, and he will provide the light to shine through. This morning as I watched the sunlight break through the density of the fog, I was reminded that I will not be stuck in this fog forever. One day I will be able to see the light break through my pain and suffering. Even now when I can only see a very dim and foggy picture of my life, I will continue to look forward to the moments when I will see clearly once again.
     During the past week I struggled with so many overwhelming and powerful emotions. It was not easy to get up in the morning, and often I would go to bed feeling even worse. This whole journey of grief is so new and foreign to me, and I never know what to expect from one day to the next. But I do know that last week was one of the hardest weeks I have experienced since we lost Caroline three months ago. I can say with all honesty that God has been carrying me throughout this past week, because I did not know where to put my foot down next. There were many days when I just did not think that life could get any worse. But despite the awful fog that consumed my heart for so long, God was able to clear the fog to let me once again see the sunshine. Today as I write these words, I feel happiness inside my heart. Even though I have faced the indescribable pain of losing a baby, and even though I know it will not necessarily get easier any time soon, I can say without a doubt that I am still so incredibly blessed!
     God has given me so many amazing things for which to be thankful. I have an amazing family who loves and supports me unconditionally. They are there for me in the good times and in the bad times. I could not have ever walked this journey without the blessing of family.
     God has given me wonderful friends who have chosen to stand by my side. Even though it is not easy to know what to say and what to do in this type of situation, my friends have gone above and beyond to bless my life in so many ways.
     I have found comfort in the hugs of others. It means the world to me when I receive a simple hug from someone who just wants to show that they care. I have found that it is so true when they say that actions speak louder than words. One of my greatest blessings is hugs from others!
     God has blessed me with those who take the time to send me encouraging messages. I have been so overwhelmed by the love I have felt through all of the cards, texts, phone calls, and messages that I have received from so many wonderful people. It is such a blessing just to know that you care, and that you are still thinking and praying for Josh and I. We thank God each night for all of the amazing people he has placed in our lives.
     Each time I come on my blog site I feel so blessed! It never ceases to amaze me at how many people continue to read my blog posts. Thank you to each and every person who takes the time to read about our journey. It is such an inspiration to me, and it motivates me to continue writing and sharing Caroline's story.
      One of my greatest blessings is the lesson I have learned about never taking the little things for granted. Before, I went about my life with eyes closed to the miracles that take place around us every day. Now I have been given another chance to see the world through open eyes. Never again will I look at a butterfly the same way. Never again will I just walk past the delicate petals of an newly opened rose bud. Never again will I forget to savor the sounds of laughter, and the innocence of a baby's cry. Never again will I turn my head away from the flutters of a hummingbird, or close my eyes on a blue sky filled with puffy white clouds. Never again will I gaze without wonder at a brightly lit star in the night sky. Never again will I miss out on an opportunity to hug a friend, or make someone else smile. Never again will I forget to cherish the warmth of a soft blanket, or the peace that comes after a good hard cry. Never again will I forget the miracle of birth, and the unspeakable joy that comes from the pain.  


Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.
                                                                                                                                 James 1:17