Today is the 7-month anniversary of the day we lost Leah - the day she went to Heaven – the day that everything changed!
I’m honest when I report that things aren’t “all better” yet for my family and I. The analogy of grief coming in waves is so very accurate for me. When several seemingly good days pass, I seem to know that the next harder day is just beyond the horizon. I’ve been attending a support group specifically for parents who have lost a baby, appropriately named Brief Encounters. It meets once a month in Portland, and is usually attended by between 12-20 other parents. It definitely meets the need I have to continue talking about Leah, to openly express my sorrow through tears and to remember I’m not alone in my painful healing.
Yet, it still can feel quite lonely in how much I PERSONALLY miss Leah. How I secretly wish that I wasn’t the only person, who wakes up each day, takes stock of life as my mind becomes conscious, and has to experience the reality of remembering that Leah is no longer here. It’s just those twilight moments as I awake, that I think about my children and their needs for me at that very moment. “Does Kyla need me? No, I haven’t heard her awake yet. Does Leah need me? No, Leah is in Heaven now.” Then the painful reality hits me anew, each morning, that Leah isn’t here anymore, and I can’t go check on her or sing her the “Good Morning Song” like I will momentarily be singing to her big sister. Yes, I’m growing more and more accustomed to this reality hitting me each day, but it still makes me even less of a morning person. It’s just so hard to face each new day, without your child – without a piece of you – present to be a part of it.
Knowing that Leah is loved, remembered and missed by other people means so much. My dear friend Heather, has sent me a card each month on the 20th (Leah’s month birthdays) since Leah passed away. I was so touched and brought to tears in July when she sent Leah a 4-month birthday card. I was blown away when another one arrived in August, on her 5-month birthday. I didn’t really expect the one that arrived in September, October, November or December. I’d completely forgotten the possibility of one arriving last week in January, and I was brought to tears yet again by her thoughtful gesture. They’ve been lovely cards written to Leah, in honor of her special days. Heather’s words are so simple and loving and tender. I am so in awe of her devotion to sending them, and as a busy mother of three herself, it makes the effort and love behind them even more amazing to me. With the importance of support like this, I’m so blessed to be able to offer my support to others.
It seems like many other parents who lose a child start some sort of Non-Profit in their honor to reach out and support others. Some parents have written books about their loss. Others start support groups. I have been trusting God to use this painful experience for His glory, but I haven’t felt led to do any of those above-mentioned things. At times, I feel like I SHOULD be doing some big major project in Leah’s honor. Yet, it seems that God is using me in a much more individual type of way. Since Leah’s birth, God has brought Mom, after Mom, after Mom, after Mom into my life who have received a similarly terminal prenatal diagnosis for their unborn child. I think the number is approaching 10, with one giving birth last week and another due this week. I’ve been in touch with these mothers, who live all across the country, through email, phone calls, letters and Facebook. I never would have imagined that I’d have the emotional stability to walk along and support another person so soon after Leah, let alone 10 others, all of whom have already lost their babies. Yet, I feel equipped in each case to provide a listening ear, prayer, resources, “advice” for preparing for the baby’s arrival, and sensitivity towards their grief. Knowing that God has brought each Mother into my life for a dual purpose is so essential to my ability to open my heart again. Each mother was given less than one day with her precious baby, which reminds my heart to be so thankful for God’s gift of 99 days together with Leah. Yet, still I can relate to the reality of that number of days being far too few by a Mother’s accounting. Each of our arms is empty, our hearts miss our babies terribly, and the journey of grief has arrived and will be sticking around much longer than we’d like. I’ve always known myself to be an “emotional” person, and that too is an advantage, as I truly believe I have an unending supply of tears (it’s the tissues that still seem hard to come by at my house).
It’s been a whole year since the creation of Leah’s CaringBridge website. It has allowed those who know us to follow Leah’s journey. Because of the simplicity of the Internet, we were able to receive prayers and support from so many around the country that have never even met our family. They heard of us from someone they knew and quickly became part of this journey with us. To say we’ve been overwhelmed by your love and support is truly an understatement. I know God has entrusted ME with the responsibility of sharing Leah’s story. That is why I have continued to write and update this CaringBridge website even after Leah’s medical situation ended. It has been provided to me at no cost for the past year. Now it’s time for that space to be used by another person with another story. Yet, I know Leah’s story isn’t done being shared – it isn’t done being used – it isn’t done teaching about God’s faithfulness. I have moved all the content over to this blog for a more permanent location. I will continue to update it along the way with new insights from our journey with Leah. We hope to be a support to others in a similar circumstance. We'll walk beside them down this "Road of Bittersweet".
