Isolating

Y'all - it's been a hard couple of weeks. 

I have been anticipating and dreading the start of the school year this fall, but I didn't know it would be as hard as it was.

When we lossed Jonathan, you start to think of the milestones you will will also lose... kindergarten, 16th birthday, high school graduation... Those are some big ones.

Every start of school has been hard since 2014, and even if Jonathan wasn't school age, for some reason August was always a tough time. 

But this was the year. The big one. And I wasn't prepared for how hard it would hit me.

These last couple of weeks, the depression and anger that I have felt has been so much. It hasn't been as strong as when we lossed Jonathan, but it has been the worst I have felt since then.

Because it's been so strong, I've been having a hard time bouncing back from it. 

In a couple of weeks, I plan on getting back into counseling. It's been awhile since I've been, and I think it's a good idea to pick it back up. 

It just sucks. And on top of the pain, it felt so isolating. While all my other mom friends were excited to send their kiddos off to school, I felt like I just wanted to punch everyone in the face. It wasn't anything that they were doing. It was 100% me and where I was (am) at. 

It's so isolating because I don't want to crap on their parade by waving my hand saying, "Remember me?? My son died five years ago, and should have been starting school too..." 

I know my friends are there for me (and I have since talked to them on how I'm doing), but grief can be so isolating. 

In the midst of feeling so low, God reached out and used me. It almost made me laugh because how I was feeling didn't surprise Him, and He wanted me to continue to share my story. I was exactly where He wanted me to be. 

I've said it before and I'll probably say it again, but grief is messy. It's so unpredictable, but it's where I am at. It's part of my story. And God is using my story. 

Missing Piece

There is so much hurt and pain around us.

As I look back on the last couple of weeks, I feel like I've been bombarded with news of loss and grief.

After encountering your own experience if grief, you are awaken to the amount of loss that is truly around us.

I am sitting here with tears in my eyes as I see the hurt around me, as well as feel my own pain.

Sometimes my pain is still debilitating even 5 years later.

I (still) know that God is good. And He is faithful, but pain still hurts.

As summer wraps up, and school starts back into full swing, my heart aches for my firstborn. He too would have been starting Kindergarten this fall. But unlike most around me, I won't be able to post a "First Day of Kindergarten" picture of my boy standing on my porch.

Would he be nervous?

Would he be excited?

Would I have to bribe him to smile?

Would he be a helper in class?

Would he be the class clown?

Just add them to the list of unanswered questions.

I frequently think of - and miss - Jonathan.  I don't even know how many times in a day I think of him because I lose count.

I've noticed that as Zac and Charlotte get older, I wonder more and more about what Jonathan would have been like or what he would be playing with that same moment?

Would he bravely jump off the diving board, as we have a family pool day?

Or would he be the kid that just wants the yummy snacks on the side of the pool?

It's hard for my Mama's heart to have so many unanswerable questions. It just constantly reminds me that a part of my heart is missing.

I Miss Him.

Five years. 

How can it be (almost) five years since I held my precious first-born baby boy in my arms for the first and last time?  

When I actually stop and think about it, the ache is still so deep in my heart.  It's a rare thing for me to actually stop the chaos around me and allow myself to focus on my Jonathan. 

I just miss him. 

I frequently play the "what-if" game of how he could fit into our lives.  Sometimes those questions make me smile.  Sometimes they make me sad. 

I was crying on the eve before my birthday this year because I missed him.  Charlotte and I have the same birthday, and it was not only going to be my day, but her first birthday.  Another milestone that I never got to have with my boy. 

I was irritated because I wasn't suppose to be crying for Jonathan yet. In the previous years, the wave of grief of missing Jonathan usually hits on March 7 up until his birthday. 

I miss him.

I miss him when Zac and Charlotte play together. I miss him with the milestones that happen in Zac and Charlotte's life. 

I miss him.

There's really nothing else to say except: I miss him.

 

Make My Heart Believe

While we were watching "First Man" this weekend -- *spoiler* Neil Armstrong was the first man on the moon -- there was another story-line that unfolded that I wasn't prepared for. 

Armstrong's daughter died at the age of two due to a brain tumor.  

This story-line seemed to intertwine the entire movie.   

It was hard.  Since it stung so much, I quickly made sarcastic and smart-alick comments all throughout the movie to keep the tears from coming...the healthy thing to do, right? 

Well, even though it was a few days ago, I keep lingering on how much heart aches from his loss...and obviously, my loss. 

I don't know what it is, but I've been missing Jonathan a lot these last few weeks. Perhaps it's all of FB posts about Kindergarten registration.  I can't believe he would have been five. Perhaps it's because Zac and Charlotte have been sick these last few weeks, and my root fear of sickness and germs stems from losing Jonathan. Perhaps it's all the new baby announcements of baby number three. 

**Friends who just had baby number three/pregnant with number three, I am beyond happy for you (which is why I stalk your Instagram stories!).  It has nothing to do with you - it's just the messiness of grief.**

Charlotte is my third baby.  But to those that don't know our story don't know that I, too, have three babies.  They see my two sweet babies, and not the hole in my heart from Jonathan. It's just another reminder that Jonathan isn't here. 

The other day I heard one of my new favorite worship songs: "Jesus Is Better" -- During these last few years of healing my relationship with Jesus, learning to trust Him again, this song played a big role in that healing.  

Here's some of the lyrics:

"In all my sorrows, Jesus is better
make my heart believe
In all my victories, Jesus is better
make my heart believe

Than any comfort, Jesus is better
make my heart believe
More than all riches, Jesus is better
make my heart believe
Our souls declaring, Jesus is better
make my heart believe
Our song eternal, Jesus is better - make my heart believe"

What I connected with is the crying out of "make my heart believe" -- Such a wonderful and encouraging line.  While I still have a way to go to completely trust Jesus hasn't/isn't going to let me down, that line encourages me that it's okay to also ask for help in believing who Jesus says He is. 

Man, at the end of the day, grief is so messy and so evident all day long.  As you can see, these are three different situations where I am constantly being bombarded with my loss of Jonathan.  Grief is an exhausting road, but:

 "In all my sorrows, Jesus is better

make my heart believe...
Than any comfort, Jesus is better
make my heart believe"

consuming

For the last few years, my grief has seemed predictable. 

I could start to anticipate the hard days. 
The week before Jonathan's birthday...April 1st...the day he passed...and then every day from Halloween until News Year's day. 

The thickness of the grief during the holidays seems to evaporate every January 1, and I feel like I can breathe again. I was never really a fan of January until Jonathan passed. It's now my favorite month. It is refreshing. It means I'm a survivor. I survived another round of holidays without my boy, and I can finally exhale. 

But just as I think I can predict my grief and anticipate it's arrival, it changes. 

This year, the holidays were a whirlwind. I feel like I blinked, and it's now 2019. Perhaps it's because Miss Charlotte was here and divided my attention this year. Or perhaps it was a combination of that and Charles breaking his collar bone the week before Christmas. For the past four weeks of his recovery, I have been in survival mode.

I feel like I haven't had time to grieve. I've been trying to survive my day to day...week to week. I've been taking care of everyone, I haven't had time to take care of me.

Just as I was looking forward to the freshness of January, I find that I am deeply missing my sweet baby boy. 

Just when I think my grief is predictable, my grief is consuming.

I Couldn't Do It.

The sound of your child coughing, or "barking-like-a-seal," is a tough way to wake up. 

After talking to a handful of moms, I diagnosed Charlotte with croup.  With it being Sunday, I watched her like a hawk to see if we needed to head to the ER.  She seemed okay considering the awful sound she kept making when coughing...but no fever, she was eating well, etc.  

I reached out to family and a few friends, and they all responded that they would be praying for her.  

As I was getting ready for dinner, it hit me that I actually never stopped and prayed for Charlotte. The thought passed as quickly as it came, as I got distracted by something that needed my full attention.

After climbing in to bed, thinking through the day, the thought came again that I still haven't prayed for Charlotte.  As I started to pray, I realized I couldn't.  I couldn't pray for her.  I couldn't pray to God to heal her.  

I know that croup doesn't always end up in having to go to the ER, but I know of cases when a child has stopped breathing from having croup.  I know that being sick with croup can change on a dime and can become life-threatening.  Was Charlotte severely sick with croup?  No.  But I did worry about this turning into the worst case scenario. 

Now, I pray for my children daily and frequently.  I've learned that there's only so much we can do as parents, and it's so comforting to be able to pray for God's protect over the things that we can't control.  

But when it came down to me praying for Charlotte's health, to pray for the croup not to get worse, to pray for her healing....I couldn't do it. 

I became vividly aware of the times I prayed for Jonathan's healing and how I felt (feel) like God let me down in not healing him. 

Now I know that there are some fundamentally things wrong with me thinking that God "let me down" with Jonathan, and someday I will tackle that, but while laying in bed last night, my feelings were real.  I couldn't go there with God.  I couldn't pray for another one of my children to be healed. 

I continued praying and talking with God about feeling how I couldn't pray for Charlotte. 

I still love Jesus, and I know He loves me, but I still got a lot of junk to work through with my grief after all these years. I'll get there. 

In the meantime, I'm just thankful for my "village" that will come along side me and pray for me (and Charlotte) when I am unable to do so myself. 

I Know It's Me, Not Him

Guys!  I did it!

I did it twice!

I didn't give Zac or Charlotte a bath after MDO last week or this week!

Okay, I know that doesn't seem like something big, but for me that's huge!

It's no surprise that I'm a germaphobe.  It all stems from losing Jonathan, and now I have this deep rooted fear that Zac and Charlotte are going to get sick and die.  Because of this, I cling to fear.  I cling to control. I cling to controlling germs. 

I know I need to be clinging to Jesus.  My head knows this, but my gut still has a hard time trusting Him.  It's a been quite a process to even get where I am, but if I'm truthful, I don't trust Him 100%.  There are days I long for His yoke, but I just can't.  I know it's me, not Him.

But I can celebrate the small (or BIG) victories that bring me closer to trusting Him. 

We went out to lunch a couple of weeks ago, and I just didn't have the mental capacity to wipe the two highchairs and the table down...so I didn't.  Afterwards I told my cousin how freeing it felt not to wipe everything down.  I wondered if this is how "normal" people feel...  Probably not because they probably don't even think twice about it!

For the next 48 hours I waited for the kids to get sick.  Yep, it's true.  But they didn't!  That's not to say that they won't ever get sick, but I didn't wipe everything down, and they were fine!  Again, there was a freedom in this.  

I decided to take it a step further.  Since Zac started MDO last school year, I would give him a bath the minute we got home.  It's been exhausting.  When Charlotte came along, I just included her into this controlling routine I created.  I've been trying to break this habit, but the bondage of my fear as been so binding.  

Last Thursday was the first day I decided I was going to jump in the deep end and not give them a bath until before bedtime.  The entire five hours while they were at MDO, the amount of mental energy I used of debating whether or not I was actually going to go through with my plan was exhausting!  You should hear the messages I sent my cousin debating back and forth if I was actually going to do it.  I started to get mad at myself that it was such a tough decision.  But ultimately I knew I needed to wait on giving them a bath.  

In the midst of my own worries and fears, I often worry about passing on my fears to my children.  Now that Zac is two, he picks up on things quite quickly.  Yes, I am bound by my own fears of germs, but my worry of passing on these fears to my children is so much stronger.  I don't want them to live this way.  I don't want them to experience the mental exhaustion I go through on a daily basis.  Ultimately my love for them is stronger than my fear. 

For them, I was able to succeed.  Something as simple as not giving them a bath as soon as we arrived home was such a huge step in breaking my chains of fear. 

Each day I constantly have to choose to break through my fear.  Some days I succeed.  And some days I have Grace for myself when I lather myself and my children in hand sanitizer.

It's a journey, and I hope to ultimately take His yoke that He is offering to me on a daily basis.  I know that He is Faithful and being patient with me.  I long for that help and for my days not to be consumed by fear.  But until then, I can rejoice in the steps that I am taking in breaking the bondage of fear however how big or small they might be.