I am so glad I married him

A few weeks ago, I was having a particularly hard day. I had been crying and Tim was simply holding me, allowing me to cry it out. After I regained some composure, I said to him, "I wouldn't want to go through this hell with anyone else." Really I wouldn't.

We didn't date long before were engaged (4 weeks) and we weren't engaged long before we were married (4 months). I've been told that there were some who thought we wouldn't last. Well, it's been 8 years now and here we are. In those eight years we have experienced each end of traditional wedding vow spectrums. In plenty and in want; in joy and in sorrow; in sickness and in health. As I heard these vows at a wedding this summer, I thought to myself, 'Wow, in 8 years Tim and I have had each of these.' We have plenty, but there certainly have been times where we have been in "want", we've had sickness and health, we've experienced the greatest of joy in the birth of each of our girls and the deepest sorrow in the loss of our son. In just 8 years.

The first night that I was in the hospital before delivering Jonathan, Tim and I prayed for the baby's health, my health and for our marriage. It is times like this that marriages can be so strained. We prayed that God would draw us closer to each other through all of this. At that time, we had no idea what we were about to go through, but I am so glad that we prayed for closeness. I believe that Tim and I had a good marriage before losing Jonathan, but I know that the Lord has continued to draw us nearer one another, has he draws us closer to him.

We made it through!

We've made it through Christmas. Overall, I think we did well. For me the hardest part was at my in-laws (held a few days before Christmas), where we sing a few Christmas songs around the dinner table before opening gifts. We do this by candlelight and it can feel very intimate. For whatever reason this was hard for me. I was holding our youngest, Kyla and couldn't help but think that this Christmas, I should have been holding Jonathan. Tears flowed, but I recovered quickly. This was also the evening that we took the annual Christmas photo, where again, I should have been holding a darling little 3 month old baby.

Tonight as I was praying with the girls and having our nightly snuggle time, I couldn't help but tear up. Just a little, for my baby who is safe in the arms of Jesus tonight. I am so grateful to have celebrated today with our three girls.

The rest of our Christmas was good, the girls loved all their gifts and were such a joy to watch as they opened even the simplest gifts. I think one of my favorite parts was after our oldest, Bria, opened a stocking gift. She was so surprised to have gotten Barbie band-aids of her very own!

I hope you all had a very Merry Christmas, as we celebrated the birth of our savior, Jesus Christ.

A missing stocking and an empty chair

As Christmas approaches, I have become increasingly aware of the missing stocking in my home. We have huge stockings that my mom made for us. I love them. Each of them are slightly different, yet coordinate perfectly. Our names are sewn on in large block letters that my mom hand cut out of fabric. Our middle daughter, Adriann, has a longer name than the rest of us. My mother had to scale down each letter in her name to make it fit. When she gave us the stockings she jokingly said that names can't be as Adriann's anymore! Well, funny thing, Jonathan is longer! So when we decided on Jonathan for our baby I really did think, 'Oh no, it won't fit on the stocking!' All this to say that I have an association with the stockings and Jonathan. Every time I look at them I think, I'm missing one. Same with car seats, each time I look in my rear view mirror, I think 'I'm missing a car seat and kid.'


I recently attended an empty chair service at a church near me. I don't attend this church regularly, but a friend recommended the service to me. Tim wasn't able to attend that night, so my friend Michele came with me. It was very nice, we sang Christmas songs in a mellow mood and the opening prayer was very appropriate. Than their lead pastor spoke. He started out with letting us know that the space is usually used by the youth group, but that they graciously gave up the space so the service could be held. I thought that was odd to start with. This service isn't about them, it's about those grieving. Then the pastor began to share about how God cries with us and how Jesus felt pain too. It was good.

However, after that, I started to lose touch. He spent a good deal of time talking about how we have memories of our loved one to cherish. Yes, true, when we lose someone who has lived with us on this earth we have memories. I can appreciate that the focus of the service was on those who lost someone who had lived on this earth. But he never, acknowledged that maybe there was someone who didn't have those memories. That's all he would have needed to say. Simply acknowledge the loss. As it was, the grief of a parent who has lost an infant, was not a part of that service.

The closing part of his talk was a candle lighting service where there were 4 candles, one for the loved one, one for the memories, one for the grief experienced, and one for hope. During this person he began to speak as though he were talking to the person that died. I really disconnected here. I don't get that. I do get it from a personal viewpoint, in that I'm sure that after having been married to someone for many many years you might "talk" to them after they have gone to be with Jesus. So, I guess, I mostly found it odd, that he was corporately talking to the deceased.

My friend I and left the service with a kind, oh well, that was not what we thought kind of feeling. I guess I was expecting to cry, I did that. But I was also expecting some sense of comfort and peace. But that service wasn't designed for me.

I will hold on to the hope that I will experience the Joy and Peace that God has for me.

A litmus test

Sunday evening in church our pastor spoke on Joy. He emphasized the point that we are to find joy in all things. He spoke of a question from his former accountability group that asked, "Have you allowed any one or situation to rob you of your joy?" Well, as he was speaking and pointing out different areas that despite trouble, he or others were able to find or keep joy. I began to cry. Then he had a woman who chooses joy conscientiously everyday speak. Her talk made me cry more because, I have not found joy in losing my son. How do you do that? How does a baby dieing bring Glory to God? I was bawling by the end of the her talk and just about walked out.

As if the sermon and testimonial wasn't enough to send me over the edge, the worship leader chooses to close with the great song "I've traded my sorrows, I've traded my pain, I've laid them down for the joy of the Lord" Oh, help. I cry more and silently cry out to God, reminding him the I have begged him to take away the pain, I've tried to trade in my sorrow, but here it sits.

Sunday evening, Tim and I were talking about church and how we don't see the joy in this circumstance. Tim said that he has to believe that someday we will. God promises that. I know he is right, that one day we will see the joy in this, but right now it's simply not there.

Monday evening I had the opportunity to tell my pastor, who is a dear friend, that I simply have not found the joy in my circumstance. My friend, of course felt horrible for making me cry. I told him, what I did realize was, that I am still angry at God for taking away my baby and I'm really not doing as well as I think I am. While he still felt bad, he said "I'm glad it could be litmus test for you." Me too.