5 months

Today Matthew would have been five months old. It's hard... I wish I knew what he would've looked like and could see all the cute things he would be doing. It's hard to watch time keep going on and leaving him behind. He will always be stuck at two months old in our memory, even when we're old and gray, and that makes me ache inside. I miss my baby.

Thanks for sticking with me...

I try to blog only when I have something worth saying or when there's something that just needs to get out. These days, the only thing really on my mind is how much I miss Matthew, which after reading for a while, can tend to make you very sad and heavy feeling. That's why I want to thank those of you out there who still read what I have to say. Eventually, I will be able to move on to the happier things in life, but for now I'm stuck in my own little world of pain and that's all I feel like writing about. Every now and then when I take a break and write a post on Claire or something fun we've done, it feels out of place and too happy. Because, if I'm being honest, this pain is still too raw and recent for me to gloss over with happy things. I promise that I will eventually come out of the gloom, but until then, thank you for loving me through this.

3 months

Today is three months since Matthew died and I've really struggled emotionally all day. Church was hard; I basically ran in and dropped Claire off at the nursery and then went straight to my seat and sat down without talking to anyone. When it was the greeting time, Pastor Mike said, "Turn and greet each other with the joy you have this morning," and I turned and looked at Cole and said, "I don't have any joy. I'm going to the bathroom." Then I ran out right as the service ended and went straight home to cry and sleep.

I don't know why it's suddenly gotten so much harder. I felt like I finally had a handle on it, but all of a sudden, the loss is hitting me over and over again. I ache to hold him and I find that my memory is beginning to fade. I have cried and cried this week over those last days with him and how I wish I had known that I had so little time left. I thought we were practically on our way home and just took for granted that nothing bad would happen. I feel so stupid now. I wish I had seen every moment as precious and taken every minute to hold and kiss him.

There are so many things I would've done differently. I try so hard not to have regrets, but this week they have overwhelmed me. Every thing I wish I had done differently is coming to mind and leaving me a crying mess.

I would really appreciate your prayers this week. I so badly want to be joyful and be thankful that my baby is perfectly healed and happy in heaven, but all I can think about is how much I miss him.

Camp Willowbrook!

I recently found some pictures of Claire from her time at Camp Willowbrook this summer. Camp Willowbrook is what my parents have officially named their grandkid camp that they're going to do every summer. Claire got to go spend time with my parents in Asheville for a few days when I was in Charleston with Matthew. She came back happy and in one piece, so I guess camp was a success! Next year they're going to try to get all the cousins together for one whole week filled with fun and field trips. Are my parents brave? Yes, I think so!

A poem for my son

Matthew,

I thought of you with love today, but that is nothing new;
I thought about you yesterday and days before that too.

I think of you in silence, I often speak your name;
All I have are memories and your picture in a frame.

Your memory is my keepsake with which I'll never part;
God has you in His keeping, I have you in my heart.



*Thanks Ashley for sending me this! I love it :)

Our good?

A few days ago, one of my dear friends lost her younger sister unexpectedly, and I was reminded all over again of the suffering and hurt that we go through in this world. There is so much pain, death, disappointment, and hurt around us. It can make us wonder where God is and if He really cares about us. I know there are times late at night where I sit up in bed and demand answers from God. Mostly I just cry, but sometimes I almost yell at Him, asking Him why He didn't save Matthew and why He chose me to go through this pain. I tell Him that I don't want my life to look like this, I don't want to carry this scar for the rest of my life. I ask Him to at least show me what good is supposed to come out of this.

It's so hard to understand why Matthew died or why my friend lost her sister. I can't explain what God's doing in these situations, but I believe it when He says that He does everything for our good. I think C.S. Lewis puts it well when he says,

"We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; 

we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be." 

"Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world." 

I know that my pain has definitely roused me from apathy and made me more aware of both His presence and other's pain. 

Whatever God's purpose is in our pain, I pray that He shows it to us and then uses it to bless the world around us. 

Oh my heart!

Tonight as I was sitting here on the computer trying to get some work done, Claire was playing behind me and just chattering up a storm! She had all her toys out and was arranging them on the floor. All of a sudden, amid the babbling, I heard:

"Ma ma, da da, ma-uh." 

Ma-uh is the way she says Matthew. She can say his name better than her own. She's learned who he is and loves to look at pictures of him and kiss them. I always tell her that he's her little brother, but that he had a sick heart and went to see Jesus. I have no clue when she'll understand what this means, but I want her to never remember a day that she didn't know she had a little brother. It breaks my heart that she'll never remember him, but I love it that she knows who he is.

Happiness

There are times when I get caught up in my feelings. I let them control my day and dictate how I respond to the people around me. When I'm in a good mood, all is well with the world. When I'm in a bad mood, beware! I tend to make everyone around suffer along with me. 

Today as I was reading the blogs of my friends, I stumbled upon this quote that one of them had posted, and it hit me over the head with it's truth.  

"I cannot believe that the purpose of life is to be "happy." I think the purpose of life is to be useful, to be responsible, to be compassionate. It is, above all, to matter and to count, to stand for something, to have made some difference that you lived at all."

- Leo C. Rosten

It made me sorry for how I let my "happiness" dictate my life, rather than letting my joy fill even the bad days. I know I have plenty to complain about, but God never promised that my life would be easy or "happy." He told me that He would give me joy and that the purpose of that joy was to be a light to the lost world around me. How silly I am to forget that so easily. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

P.S. Happy birthday Mom! Oh, and a belated one to you too Dad :)

My Only Comfort

Q: What is your only comfort in life and in death?

A: That I am not my own, but belong - body and soul, in life and in death - to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ. He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil. He also watches over me in such a way that not a hair can fall from my head without the will of my Father in Heaven; in fact, all things must work together for my salvation. Because I belong to Him, Christ, by his Holy Spirit, assures me of eternal life and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him.

Life...

Someone once told me, "You'll be both relieved and saddened by how quickly life will return to normal." I found this to be so true today. I spent the afternoon at a church get-together with old friends that know of our circumstance and new friends who don't. I was able to get so caught up in the games and conversation that I completely forgot about Matthew for a few hours.

Then it hit me. I have a dead child. I am not normal. I felt the pain all over again and suddenly wanted to retreat into myself and hide.

Then I looked up at all the people I was with and thought, "You know, to them I look so ok, so fine. If they didn't know me, then they'd never be able to guess that anything was wrong with my life." It was both nice and terrifying at the same time.

Nice because it feels so good be normal and because I just want to feel young and free again.

But terrifying because I feel like Matthew's memory is already slipping away so fast and there's nothing I can do to stop it.