Just another day

Yesterday could have been, just another day. Just another Sunday. Just another end to the weekend. And at times it did feel that way. We had the regular routine with Sophie such as eating, playing and sleeping. We went to church, took turns with Sophie as the other person did some chores around the house. I finally re-organized the kitchen and Joe organized the garage. We are getting a bit closer to having our house all put together.

I thought about this day all of last week and the weeks before that, months before that even and throughout last year too.

I thought about this day on the 18th when Sophie turned 3 months old.

However, when I woke up yesterday I thought about Sophie and Joe and church and how to get us all out the door on time. I made the grocery list in my head as I took a shower. I thought about gifts to buy my niece for her birthday and things we should do when my parents and sister and nephew arrive on Thursday.

It wasn't until I read the date on the offering envelope for church that I remembered what day it was.

October 20th.

The date we were told Elliott would not live. The date of the doctors appointment when our world was shattered into a million pieces.

With all of the anticipation I felt leading up to this day, I think I was affected more by the shock I felt the moment I almost didn't realize what day it was, rather than the "absence" of sadness in my heart compared to what I felt last year. If that makes any sense at all.

So what does that mean..

I thought about that too yesterday. Between the sadness and the guilt. The guilt of almost forgetting one of the most terrible days of my life. Like that really, truly possible.

But one thing I do want to know is....why do I always feel so much guilt.

It's not that I will actually forget her. I can't. I won't. I never will. Especially now. The more and more I look at Sophie, the more I see Elliott. I see her in her profile as she nurses. Something about the way her mouth is, I see her. And even though I never saw Elliott's eyes open, I still see her in Sophie's, in the way she smiles, even with her eyes.

So maybe its not a bad thing that I didn't wake up yesterday morning dreading the day, feeling sad the moment my feet hit the floor.

Maybe it's ok.

Maybe this is part of the healing. Part of God's timing.

This wild child turned 3 months today

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day

To my sweet Elliott Faith. I miss you more and more each day and love you more than you will ever know.

Until I see you again in Heaven my love.

Home

Sophie's nursery has a fresh coat of paint thanks to her Grandmother. Every room in our new house holds furniture strategically placed among several boxes. And all of the "necessities" such as the coffee pot have been unpacked and placed in their new location. Our first night in the new house felt like home, except at the 3am feeding when I was trying desperately to remember where the light switches were so I could make my way to the nursery to feed a very hungry almost 3 month old. I can't believe she is almost three months old. She's growing and changing so fast and she's even had some firsts in the new house already, like sitting in her bumpo chair. Man, does she look like her daddy!

I have to say I love our new home. I love that we will finally be able to unpack all of our items that have been stored in boxes for the last three years.

I love how permanent this feels.

Yet I'm reminded daily that this is all so temporary, all of this is, and the permanent, the eternal, will come one day and that is what and who I need to live for. Not new houses, not all of the things I want to buy to furnish a new house, not the stress brought on by the government shutdown, and not the devastating news of another woman loosing her baby that sends me reeling back to those dark periods after Elliott.

The day will come when I get to meet my Lord and Savior and get to hold my sweet Elliott Faith in my arms again.

The other night as I was holding a sleeping Sophie in my arms it hit me like a ton of bricks that Elliott is gone. That we moved out of the condo where she would have had her nursery set up. That almost 2 years have passed since she was here. I asked Joe to hold Sophie and I went to the boxes that held Elliott's things. I opened her shadow box and touched her purple and white crocheted hat. I ran my finger across her tiny hospital band. And I buried my face in her blanket and breathed her in. She was here. I let my mind go back to the moment I saw her for the first time and the tears streamed down my face. I miss her so much.

***

Three years ago this October, I packed up what would fit in our tiny Pontiac G6, placed our two cats in the back seat and my mom in the front, with my dad trailing behind us, more of our belongings packed tightly in his vehicle and made the seven hour drive from Bettendorf, Iowa to Northville, Michigan.

Thank the Lord for parents, right. especially mine, for without them I'm sure I would not have slept much that first night alone in an unfamiliar house and an unfamiliar city away from everyone I know.

Our first night in Michigan, my parents and I unpacked the necessities, ventured out a bit in the town and ate what was familiar, what felt like home, pizza of course. I was pretty nervous about this big move, I could tell they were nervous for me too but as we talked over dinner I tried very hard to hold back the tears and reassure them that I was fine. Yes, there was fear, fear of being in a new place so far from home, but mainly there was sadness. Sadness of being away from home. Home where my parents are just a quick hour drive away. Home where great friends are just a quick phone call away to meet up for dinner at our favorite restaurant, home where my cousins, aunts and uncles and grandparents are around for dinners and holidays.

I guess the old saying really is true, you never realize what you have until it's gone, or in this case, until its all a seven hour drive from you.

Two weeks later my husband joined me and we began our new journey together. I showed him around the town and introduced him to some of the neighbors I had already met. Sue and Jack, old enough to be our grandparents yet young enough at heart to have us over regularly for drinks and stories and confessions of Sue's love for Eminem. They were the first to know we were pregnant with Elliott. Sue attended her funeral. And we couldn't wait to send them Sophie's birth announcement. They helped us feel a little more at home in Northville.

Upon settling in to our new life in Michigan we began looking for a church to attend. Joe's sister Leslie, who lives in Indianapolis, has a friend named Kimberly, who used to live in Michigan and who recommended Northridge Church. Our first time attending, we left saying how much Northridge reminded us of our church back home, Bettendorf Christian Church, although much much MUCH larger. After a few weeks of attending Northridge we joined a small group called Starting Point and within weeks would come to learn that our small group leader, Phil, also knows this friend of Joe's sister Leslie named Kimberly. Small world? Or a God thing? Phil and his wife have become some of our greatest friends here in Michigan.

Nine months later Joe and I would make a public declaration of our love, commitment and faith in Christ by being baptized. One month later we found out we were pregnant with Elliott. After learning of Elliott's prognosis I would come to meet, through Northridge, one of the most influential mentors of my life, Lynne.

Seven months later our family and friends, many of whom supported us daily as we endured a very difficult pregnancy and devastating loss, would join us to celebrate Elliott's brief life at a memorial service at Northridge Church.

One year and a half later we would walk back through those church doors, not for the first time, but for the first time as a family of four, mom, dad, new baby Sophie and sweet angel Elliott. How I had longed for that moment. How I prayed for a healthy baby, for healing in Joe's heart and my own. So many prayers had been answered and on that day my heart felt full. We proudly showed Sophie off to Pastor Wayne, the minister who lead Elliott's memorial service and we made our way to our seats. As the music began, my eyes filled with tears once again but this time they weren't tears of sadness, they were tears of joy. Tears of praise because on that day I stood with my husband Joe, our marriage and love for each other stronger than ever and our healthy and thriving new daughter Sophie. We could have given up on so many levels, given up on God, blamed him, denied him, but through months of grieving, sorrow, and pain eventually came grace, forgiveness, and daily healing and joy. Today we call Northridge our home.

Despite this deep longing to want to get back to my family and my friends, I have to say that Michigan is truly beginning to feel like home. Our friends here have grown in to our extended family. So if life isn't taking us back home to Illinois or Iowa anytime soon, then this is truly where I want to be.

Where more memories will be made as we watch Sophie grow into a beautiful young girl, one I pray gives her whole heart to the Lord. This is where we will tell her about her big sis Elliott and share with her our story of hope, faith and love.

I never would have imagined where life would take us when we moved to Michigan just three years ago, newly married and the beginning of my husband's career. We've had alot of highs and some very low lows, but through the good and the sad, we continue to praise God for all that he has blessed us with. We've learned so much over the past three years, about life, about love, about grace and about God. I am looking forward to what God has in store for us and thanking Him for each and every day I have with Joe and Sophie.

This is our home for now.