My three girls.

We have three girls. They are beautiful, lively, smart, lively, precious, and everything little girls are supposed to be. They do a great job driving me nuts, making me smile, and I am proud of them. Lately as I have been praying with them each night I have thanked the Lord for allowing me to experience being their mother. I'm sure I took this for granted before. In fact, I didn't realize until tonight that I have been thanking the Lord for allowing me to have them here. It really is such a privilege to have these precious girls here. They have taught me so much about who I want to be and who I really am. God has used these girls (I think he is using of them more than the others ;) ) to bring me to my knees in many ways.

So now I wonder, what will Jonathan teach me? Or rather what is God teaching me about myself and others through my experience with and without Jonathan.

Thank you Lord for allowing me to raise my daughters. For letting me snuggle with them, teach them to make cookies, be a friend, and discipline when they need it. Help me to be the mother that you have created me to be for them.

I'm am quite irrational

I must confess that I feel like a bit of a fraud when I look back on what I have shared with you. I've included, so far, the ways that I have grown and what I have learned theologically. The one poem wasn't even written by me, although it did express my feelings well. The truth is that I am often quite irrational about losing my son.

I cry at night. Not every night, but often enough. I beg God to give me my son back. Now that would be a huge miracle, considering his remains are in a lovely urn in our bedroom. I still beg God to tell me why he took my son. Why can't I hold him and raise him. Why can't I find joy in his triumphs and get frustrated when he doesn't listen to and obey his mother?!

I still have so many what ifs. They tend to be things like. "What if I had rested more?" "I should have fought harder for him after he was born." The biggest and scariest is, "What if the due date that I originally thought was right, was?" He would have been a week or so farther along. So then maybe the doctors would have fought for him too. I know that their due date was accurate. I had about 5 or 6 ultra sounds that confirmed his size/age, so I am simply an irrational grieving mother.

The point here isn't to make you bawl, but rather to let you know that while I am doing alright, I'm not great. The truth is that I hurt. My heart hurts and my arms ache.

My son is NOT an angel. Here's why.....

One thing that I have heard or read many times is people referring to my son as an angel. Each time something inside of me would cringe. I know in my heart that he is not an angel, but rather, this notion of people becoming angels a way to help people grieve. That being said, I felt the need to find out what God says about babies who die. I knew in my heart and mind that Jonathan is in heaven, praising God. Now I wanted to know why I believed that in heaven, they are human souls, not angels.

Whenever I have a theological question I ask my husband. He is great at taking the complexity of theology and making it practical. When I asked him this he simply handed me a systematic theology book and showed me the chapter on angels. That was perfect! So according to Systematic Theology by Wayne Grudem this is evidence that angels and people are two separately created beings and people don't become angels.

First it is never said that angels are made in God's image. Grudem points out that since being made in the image or like God does describe humans, according to several passages, it is easily concluded that we are more like God than the angels.

One verse that troubled me in my search was Hebrews 2:7 "for a little while [we are] lower than the angels" Well, how can it be that we are lower than the angels? But the key here is "for a little while." When we are in heaven we will rule over the angels. Grudem points to 1 Cor.6:3 here "Do you know that we are to judge angels?"

Great evidence of God's love for humans is shown in 2 Peter 2:4 "For God did not spare even the angels who sinned. He threw them into hell, in gloomy pits of darkness, where they are being held until the day of judgment." God provided a way for us to spend eternity with him, but when an angel sins, the are sent to hell. There is no redemptive plan for them. How much does God love us? Certainly more then the angels. Read Hebrews 2:16.

With this in mind, I do have to believe that we are not reincarnated, if you will, into angels when we die. That also means that dear Jonathan is not my guardian angel or anyone else's. He is simply in the presence of God, worshiping our great creator. In the words of King David, "I will go to him one day, but he cannot return to me." 2 Samuel 12:23.

My New Normal

Today would be Jonathan's 6 month birthday. Six months is such a fun stage with the smiles they begin to share. This poem is one that I saw posted elsewhere with permission to reprint and make more personal. As I read it, I truly identified with it and thought I'd pass it along. It gives good insight to what is happening with someone who has lost a baby.

Finding My New Normal

Normal for me is waking up every day, praying that this is all a bad dream.
Normal for me is going through my day, knowing that this is not what I had planned.
Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile knowing that someone important is missing from all the important events in my family's life.
Normal is having new friends, that also share a similar loss, because many of my 'old' friends have stopped calling, because they don't know what to say.
Normal is seeing a bouquet of beautiful flowers, and then when I smell their fragrance, I am reminded once again of Jonathan's death.
Normal is feeling like I can't sit another minute without getting up and screaming.
Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand 'what ifs' and 'why didn’t I’s' go through my head constantly.
Normal is reliving the day Jonathan died continuously through my eyes, mind and heart.
Normal is having continually being busy so I don’t have to think about how my life is so different.
Normal is staring at every baby who looks like he would be Jonathan's age and then thinking of the age he would be now and not being able to imagine it. And then wondering why it matters, he never will be.
Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind because of my broken heart.
Normal is telling the story of Jonathan's death as if it were an everyday common place event, and then seeing the horror in someone's eyes at how awful it sounds, and yet realizing it has become a part of my "normal".
Normal is having some people afraid to even mention Jonathan’s name in fear of upsetting me.
Normal is making sure that others remember him.
Normal is that after Jonathan's death, everyone else goes on with their lives but we continue to grieve his loss forever.
Normal is having those closest to me, not understand that.
Normal is listening to people compare events in their life to your loss. Losing a parent or grandparent is horrible, but losing your own child is unnatural. And, let's not talk about your pets death...
Normal is trying not to cry all day, because I know my mental health and my family's survival depends on it.
Normal is realizing that I do cry everyday and it is ok.
Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone.
Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives.
Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God. "God may have done this because..." I love God. I know that Jonathan is in Heaven, but hearing people try to make up excuses as to why babies are taken from their mothers is not appreciated and makes absolutely no sense to me.
Normal is being too tired to care if I cleaned the house, did the laundry or if there is any food in the house.
Normal is wondering this time whether I am going to say I have three children or four. Yet when I say I have three children to avoid the situation of explaining his death, I feel horrible as if I have betrayed Jonathan.
Normal is asking God why he took my child's life instead of mine?
Normal is feeling that only death can take away my pain.
Normal is knowing I will never get over Jonathan's death. Not in a day, nor the rest of my life.
Normal is hiding all the things that have become "normal" for me, so that everyone else around me will think I am "normal."

Accepting help from the body of Christ (and others)

God has taught me to accept help from others. I think there are two reasons for us to accept the help of others. First, God uses his body to lift us up. I've never seen the actual hand of God come down from heaven to lift or comfort, not that it couldn't happen. He uses his people to support us when we need it. So by accepting help we allowing God to comfort and heal us in physical ways. We learn more about him when others are helping us the tough times. Help from others isn't just for when we have a loss or some other awful event. God offers his help in physical ways so often in our normal life. I've learned to consider it a blessing that others want to help me.
Second, when we allow others to help it blesses them. Not long after we lost Jonathan, our neighbors had a baby. They are not part of a church, so when I asked them if anyone was bringing meals, they looked at me a bit funny and said no. Our small group women brought them meals. It felt great to help them. I had received so much help during that time that bringing a meal to someone else was a great blessing to me. So often when someone helped our family after our loss, we thank them, of course. But the response was also one of thanks. Thank you for letting me help. So many people want to help. We need to let them. This allows us and them to experience God in new ways.

The Community of God

One of the very first things I learned about God through our loss is that he takes care of us through the low spots in our life. I was amazed with the care we received from our church family, small group and of course family. You kind of expect that family will be there for you, but who knows about anyone else. We received cards and calls from so many. But what was even more astonishing was the great lengths that others went out to to care for our family. A couple of women from church did our laundry. I really don't know them well enough for them to want to wash my families undergarments, but we needed help. (I'll come back to accepting help.) Women from our MOPS group brought meals, came and hung out with me after Tim returned to work. They helped me care for my children, run Bria's birthday party, and were simply there for us.

What struck me most was the way God has prepared us and our community for our loss. The fall before we lost Jonathan a couple joined our small group. They had experienced the loss of their baby boy at 21 weeks gestation, just 6 years before. What amazing people for God to put in our lives. A friend of Tim's parents named herself Mama number 3 to check in on us while Rick and Mary had to be out of the country shortly after everything happened. Now, here was someone who God brought to our lives, well before I even met Tim, who would be there for us and care for us many years later. Aunt Norma came to stay with us to take care of our family and to listen to our hurts.

Not only did we have direct support like that, but we had amazing indirect support from others. People went to watch my friend's kids (and mine at the same time, that is like 3 sets of twins!) so that Michele could be with us at the hospital. There were people who were able to give her encouragement to continue to be an encouragement to us. Amazing.

So, as I was questioning God about why he would do this to us. After all, he knows all things. When we got pregnant with Jonathan, he knew what the outcome would be. So why do this? Does he really love us? Yes, he does. He prepared us for this moment in time before we knew we needed it. I kept being reminded of his love through the people that he put in our lives. So thank you to all of you who allowed your self to be used by the all loving and all knowing God.

Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

Now I lay me down to sleep is an organization of photographers who donate their time to take pictures of families who have experienced infant loss. Check out their link. The pictures of our Jonathan were taken by a photographer from NILMDTS. Julie was amazing, and I've never really thanked her for all she did for us. I'll post some pictures of Jonathan soon.

However, last week I was at an event with my friend Theresa. She was speaking to a friend of hers, I believe her name was Tonya. Anyway, Melissa mentioned that she would be called to the hospital later and Theresa knew about the situation because she works L&D at the hospital. After their conversation I asked Theresa what her friend was doing. She said their was a fetal demise delivering and Melissa was going to take pictures of the family. Theresa didn't know that NILMDTS took pictures of Jonathan. I asked "With NILMDTS?" "Yes" I immediately got Melissa's attention and began to sob. You know the kind where hyperventilate between words. I told her my name and that NILMDTS had taken pictures of my baby. She also began to cry, grabbed me and we hugged a long time. It was so great to be able to thank someone the way I wish I could have thanked Julie. These photographers are truly heaven sent.

Jonathan's Story

At our 18 week ultra sound, not only did we learn we were having a boy, it was found that I had placenta privia, the placenta was completely covering the cervix. This diagnosis meant that I needed to be careful about lifting anything and generally cautious. We were told that it was unlikely that any negative affects would occur.

On Sunday, May 13, I woke up with the feeling of a gush. Blood was flowing from me like I had never seen before. At the time I didn’t worry, I knew that if I called the doctor he would say to wait and see. The bleeding slowed through out the day and stopped by the time I went to bed so we thought all is well. However, moments after, a large clot passed and blood kept coming. We called the doctor on-call, who said “wait and call me back”. I told him that I already had. His response than was that I was to come in to the hospital. It was about 11:00 pm. We called Tim’s parents to stay with the girls. As we were waiting for them, I continued to bleed heavily. We called 911 because I started to feel light headed and dizzy. The paramedics came and decided to bring me in with lights and sirens because my blood pressure was far to low and my pulse was high. During the ambulance ride I had a real sense of peace that Jonathan was going to be ok.

I was admitted to United Hospital that night. On Monday morning the doctors said that I could probably go home on Tuesday. They said that most likely the bleeding would stop on it’s own. I continued to bleed throughout the day on Monday and by Monday afternoon, the doctors decided that I would stay in the hospital until I delivered. I was 21 weeks pregnant. The doctors hoped that would be three weeks.

After hearing that news, my friend Michele, started getting people signed up to bring meals to my family, do their laundry, and watch the girls. Michele her self, was already watching the girls when they weren’t with Grandma and Grandpa, so Tim could spend time with me at the hospital.

On Tuesday, I started to receive blood transfusions and by afternoon they were getting ready to move to the anti-partum unit, for patients who were medically stable. That was where I expected to spend the next three weeks. The nurse checked my pulse one more time before moving me. It was extremely elevated. She called the doctor, who said that I couldn’t be moved to the other unit, but rather had to go to the ICU.

In the ICU, my nurse was wonderful and a few more weeks pregnant than I was. (I’m sure the outcome of my pregnancy was hard for her.) Tuesday evening, while I was in the ICU, Rick, Kim and Marlene G. and another person who I can't remember came to pray for me and anoint me with oil. Weeks before, we prayed that the pain from my varicose veins would dissipate and it did. I still had a peace about the safety of our baby.

Wednesday morning, I woke and medically appeared to be stabilizing. The nurse told to me think of calm places and visualize peacefulness to help bring down my pulse. Once that came down, I could be moved back up to the anti-partum unit. However, around 11:00am I felt another large clot pass. The parinatel doctors were called. They began to prepare me for surgery, however, I quickly felt labor pains and soon delivered Jonathan Richard. He was stillborn, too small to have the lung development to breath. The doctors continued to focus on me. I remember saying again and again, “do something for him, help my baby.” But the nurse who held my hand, gently and tenderly told me that they couldn’t. He was just too young.

Tim had been at home with the girls on Wednesday morning. He dropped the girls off at Michele’s and was on his way to the hospital when the doctors called him and told him that they were preparing me for surgery. He drove the rest of the way to the hospital, not knowing how I was, if the baby was ok, or what was happening. He ran through the hospital to the ICU. When he arrived in my room, I had delivered our son. I remember looking at him and crying out, “our baby”. He looked down at Jonathan in my arms and cried. Rushing to my side holding me and Jonathan.

I was then taken to surgery for a D&C, to make sure the bleeding would stop. When I woke up in recovery, they sent for Tim. He had been waiting in the ICU, along with his parents, my parents, Melynda, and most of our small group. Another nurse came in, carrying Jonathan. The nurses had dressed him in a small gown, with blue trim. They wrapped him in a blanket. They give him such amazing care. They had cleaned him and taken care of him like any other baby.

The rest of the afternoon blurs together. I was transferred to a post-partum room. The room was filled through out the day with family and friends. It meant so much to me and Tim that they were all there. I held Jonathan all afternoon. I remember, after our friends had left and in the room with us were just our parents and sisters, I knew it was time for the nurses to take Jonathan. Tim agreed. I have never felt agony like I did at that moment. As the nurse walked out with our son, painful sobs escaped the core of my body. Our family cried, feeling our pain, as well the their own at the loss of our son, their grandson and nephew.

Slowing through out the day our family members left. My parents stayed with me while Tim went home to tell the girls about Jonathan. Then he came back to the hospital and my parents spent the night at our house.

On Thursday, I left the hospital with a dozen white roses that a friend had brought us.

Why mud and mire?

My name is Naomi. I have been married to my wonderful husband for nearly 8 years. We have 3 beautiful daughters and one faultless son. Our daughters are 5, 3, and 1. Our son in heaven safely in the arms of Jesus. Or maybe my grandma, Aunt Jae and Aunt Karen are taking turns snuggling him. Either way, he's well cared for. I am starting my blog because of my experiences with losing Jonathan. I'll share more about him as time goes on. One thing I have learned during the past months is that unless you've been through this, you really could never understand. I hope you, dear reader, never really understand. This leads me to why the name of my blog is Out of the Mud and the Mire. So...

After we lost Jonathan, my cousin gave me a couple verses. The first one really hit home for me at the time and I read it over and over. It was Psalm 69:1-3. "Save me, O God, for the floodwaters are up to my neck, Deeper and deeper I sink into the mire; I can't find a foothold. I am in deep water, and the floods overwhelm me. I am exhausted from crying for help; my throat is parched. My eyes are swollen with weeping, waiting for my God to help me." As I said, I read it again and again over the next few days. Finally, I decided that I needed to cling to a verse of hope, rather than to the one that perfectly described where I was at during that time. Don't get me wrong, she gave me the perfect verse. I read it and said, "Yes, this is what I feel!"

I began reading through the Psalms. From the beginning. I figured that the Psalms are a book of hope and God's promises, so it shouldn't take long to find a verse of hope for my despair. I found it at Chapter 40. I really think that helps describe my feelings. Nothing in Psalms offered me hope for 39 chapters. But, Psalm 40:1-3 had the answer. "I waited patiently for the Lord to help me, and he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along. He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see what he has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the Lord."

Well, if that isn't the answer to 69:1-3. I now cling to Psalm 40:1-3. When I'm having a sad day, I remember that God has set my feet on solid ground. This journey is not over, I will continue with this journey as long as my feet are on this earth