The dark side of the earth

I haven't really been posting a lot. I've received some pushback about ways that I have been reacting since Perry died from family members and this no longer felt like a safe way to post.

I am not going to apologize. You can't put me by the ruler of normal human behavior anymore, because things are not normal for me, nor will they ever be again. I am trying to work towards a new normal and I am having a really hard time visualizing what that will be like.

So I think I am going to start with explaining that we did in fact have a couple miscarriages after Perry. Along with a visit to a specialist who told me that the fact I got pregnant with my son at all is a miracle.' Miracle? Are miracles taken away?', I wonder.

So it has felt like God has turned his back on us these months as if we were Jobs without strength. And at times, I felt like God was angry at me for questioning it, that the miscarriages were a sort of punishment.... after all he never gives you more than you can handle- and guess what, I wasn't exactly 'handling' things. I felt like the hope for anything more was being taken away.

I can't tell you why prayers don't work sometimes. I was just starting to feel like, here around me, with every praise for an answered prayer was proof that I had been left behind or rejected. It was in stark contrast to the way I used to feel- that somehow somewhere there was a God who really loved me and was involved in my life. It wasn't always a perfect life, but I felt loved through it all. It got bad enough that I stopped reading the bible, words that used to comfort just seemed to mock.

I heard all around me about the power of prayer but very few people who said Christians are not immune. We are also great at praying for miracles day after day, but sometimes not so good about praying for people for whom the answer has been no with that same intensity. And yet when you are at your worst you sometimes need them more. It's not as satisfying to pray for someone in the dark- there is rarely a clear event you can point to and say "There is my answer". They will rarely come out and ask for prayers, because they don't want to be seen as a victim or someone who seeks oiut attention. But yet I can only tell you that when bad things are allowed to happen, there is the second whammy of attacks that they rarely share. And thank God for prayer warriors. Those people with small notebooks who remember day after day when it is no longer mentioned.

What would he take next?, I wondered. I was afraid to ask on many levels because I am sure things can get MUCH worse.

But somehow, I still prayed. I started praying for other people again. I prayed a lot for God just to let me know he was still there.

For a long time the answer seemed only darkness.

Then on an online group there was a post: "A word of encouragement". At first I thought it was someone with another 'miracle' to share. But here is the meat:

"but Zion said, "the Lord has forsaken me and my Lord has forgotten me." Can a woman forget her child and not have compassion on the son of her womb? Surely they may forget, yet I will not forget you. See, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands..." Isaiah 49:14-16a.

The Lord no more forgets us when we feel he has turned his back than I can forget my son. He is always on my heart and the longing for him is incredible.

The words that you are foresaken or forgotten about because you feel as if he has turned his back are all lies. But they are so convincing at times... It is hard to see the sun that is blocked by the Earth but it never goes away.

Music

Thanks to a friend, I have rediscovered Steven Curtis Chapman. There are two songs that are really weighing on my heart- I could have written them minus the pronouns or a chapter. I don't know how to explain that finding another parent who feels much the same is both a balm and at times a reopening (of wounds, good memories- all of the above).

The blind rage that sometimes hits is not here today. It is a basic longing for both things that are lost and the hope that all will be made new again. I know Heaven is much more than my child, but at this moment all that I see heaven as is his face.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z9JTwJ_1lzE

I love the lines about eyes disappearing as she smiles. This is how I remember both of my children's smiles. I say both, because that huge smile of Emily's is still often missing. She still smiles, but not like that so much anymore.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gg7l0vBqMaA

I don't really feel like writing a lot today, so I'll leave it at that.

Perry's Birthday

I have taken a long time to write this because it was somewhat grueling.

The sleepsack project was a success. You can view a local newscast about it here:
http://www.wsmv.com/video?autoStart=true&topVideoCatNo=default&clipId=7379692#.T9KpZJUAQGo.facebook

The day before Emily, my Mom, Sheila, and I went to local hospitals delivering them. It was very bittersweet as I went into a couple of the nurseries and all the memories of his birth flooded back in color. The smell was even the same. Oh how I wish one of the nurses would wheel a bassinet into the room and say, "here he is." That I could take him back into my arms and dip my nose into the soft fuzz at the nape of his neck and inhale his scent once again. Touch his cheek and feel his hands tugging at my hair as he wrapped the strands around cluched fists.

But I knew that our time here was past.

At Baptist, we stood in the room where Emily was as a newborn in the viewing area. Emily beamed as I told her this is where she was born. Her smile was spectacular and I have to admit all the time and resources were worth it for this one moment.

The next day, seeing Perry on the TV on his birthday made it bareable. Today, he would not be forgotten by the rest of the world. Today the Moms that received his picture/ sleepsacks and the people that watched the news would remember him.

I just pray that his smile made enough of an impression that they would listen. And then act.

Stupid Fountain

I was struggling to find a way to deal with Perry's birthday. I knew that as much as my sleep sack program is meaningful, after everything was dropped off at the hospital I would still be left at my home feeling very much alone and empty.

What does someone do for a birthday for a dead child?

I searched the Internet and the experiences of people in grief groups. I kind of liked the concept of a memory garden and releasing balloons, but couldn't really settle. I wanted something to remind me of everlasting life, not a wake like 'celebration'. How did balloons or gardens remind you of that?

Enter the burn house off of Johnson Chapel Rd.

As we rounded the corner to begin preparations, something caught my eye. In a  corner was a fountain. It wasn't the cheesy walmart kind either. Instantly the idea of memory garden with a fountain in the center was appealing.

Firefighters are scavengers. We know whatever is left will be destroyed during a training burn or hauled off with additional cost to a landfill. Typically the majority of the good bones are salvaged by the owners or construction company. So we scavenge copper with the proceeds to go to the TN fire fighter's memorial or towards materials for the training burn to make the house meet safety and EPA standards. Aluminum from ruined garage doors and other scrap might make enough to buy a new grill at the fire station or replace a TV. After that, windows can be replaced with plywood if somebody is in need of a new one. The rule is that if you want it, you label it, and if everything is cleared, no objections, you get it.

So I slapped my name on it.

An email appeared. The fountain was wanted by the occupants- although the last time they were in the house was two years ago and even after the city bought the house it was still lingering there.

But as the days stretched the fountain stayed in place, no word from the old owners who had sold the house. I discussed the fountain with an officer and a date was set that it was OK to salvage. My hopes grew. I didn't want the fountain salvaged for scrap if the owners didn't show up or be melted by the intense fire (it was next to the house).

So yesterday was the day. I was happily surprised it was still there. The thing weighed more than a car- so I had my husband drop off the truck. We had brought Perry home in the truck and it seemed fitting that I was going to bring the fountain home in it too.

The guys shoved and pushed, schemed and finally came up with a solution to move the hulking fountain. They created a lever out of lumber and finally slid it into the bed of the truck making a ramp. About 7 guys were involved in the operation.

They couldn't give me Perry back, but by the Grace of God, they'd have moved a monolith if I wanted it.

They seemed pleased.

Then my bubble burst. I heard something to the effect that someone had just called somebody else in the city and they had sent a reminder to the previous owners, they were waiting to hear back (and what a great thing we have moved it to make it easier). Next rapidly came the news that they wanted it. Then that the fountain had something to do with a lost child and symbolized everlasting life.

So I was a little sad, but I thought it had to be for some sort of a purpose. If it were me, I'd have moved Perry's fountain on the back of my truck shortly after we determined we would no rebuild. There had to be some reason that this fountain was still here after two years, too much coincidence that this object was somehow tying two families who had lost children.

I had it in my mind that perhaps this was God's way of bringing us together for some purpose. That I'd go to get something else I wanted the morning of the burn and the family would be there picking it up. Perhaps God was using to me to move the fountain because there is no way anyone would go through the effort to move it otherwise, it would have probably been salvaged for the metal and left in ruins. Perhaps in return there was something I was meant to gain (not as in money or an object) from this family. Something to do with the fountain symbolizing everlasting life (coincidence I wanted something that day to symbolize it).

So I went home feeling like this was some sort of grand God scheme, and told the guys it was OK, there was no way I could take the fountain to my house anymore.

I heard a grumpy rumbling on the side. "Well I would take it for you."

I love them. They are patchwork people like the rest of humanity and even if they wouldn't take it, I knew they wanted to for me.

I got another call today. The fountain had been picked up as a favor by their old landscapers. The landscapers were grouching that the family didn't even live in the state anymore they were in Florida. It would probably just sit in his yard until it crumbled.

My heart broke.

I can't help but feel like it was meant to be some sort of God plan, but somehow, someway got messed up. Like either the fountain was finding a new home to bless another family that needed it or that I was meant to meet these other parents when they picked it up themselves and through it gain some sort of insight into heaven that would help heal my faith. But instead none of it.

I feel denied. I found myself answering the firefighter reassuringly and then going into the bathroom to vomit after I hung up.

Today in this moment I can't tell you that there is a heaven. I can't decide if my feeling was totally wrong (I really thought I felt a stirring), or if there isn't a God and we just string together coincidences and nice 'whisperings of God' (that aren't really) to make ourselves feel better.

And the loss of Perry just hurts that much more.

Days of Shadows

Sometimes I hear a phrase that just hits me. In a popular song, unrealted to child loss, a young man sings about his 'shadow days'.

I think this is a good term to describe this phase of my life. When you survive a loved one, or brush against death, at times it does seem as if you are living in a shadow world. This world doesn't seem as safe or even as desirable.

At times I feel things challenging me more than they ever did before. As a firefighter, you have to have enough caution to know that death is a possibility, but enough brashness to believe that it won't happen to you. If you wear your magic gloves or your SCBA (self contained breathing apparatus) you will be safe (I think this is why firefighters often make the mistake of wearing turnout gear during water incidents, it is a default uniform that whispers in your mind that, yes, you can do this. So we cling to it in unfamilar circumstances.) But recently I realize this world isn't very safe. If death can steal my child in his bed, why can't she take me when I am on a roof?

I have never been as effortless on a roof as a Neal Mennano or AB Foster, but now sometimes I can feel my legs shake now. I wonder if this is indeed a phase... so I make myself go up on the roof and try to battle through it. I find it is a little like that with ropes as well sometimes.

These shadow days, I wonder, are they a phase or will they last?

I was asking this the other day and I looked up on the wall. In my house, when we first married, one of the first things I bought and hung up was the 23 psalm. It strikes me now: Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for you are with me; your rod and your staff they comfort me.

When I was new and going into my first structure fire, these were the words I prayed.

I am walking through. I will not stay here. I may not see where it ends, but like walking through a densely forested valley, I will eventually reach the top and see it is behind me.

A woman I know stated that this world is just life between the trees.

I was thinking yesterday in a moment of time snatched from my day, if there were a God but no Heaven would you still love him?

He has given me breath, my Children, Husband, Family. Rainbows, oceans, and glacier lakes with colors that are hard to describe. Let me touch the downy softness of a newborn's head and heard him gasp with delight just for me.

I decided that I would still be grateful. I should still be grateful for the short time I had. I would still love my God.

Then if there is a heaven, how much more wonderful would that be?

This is just a short wink of time, this life. Whether I am given 45, 75, or 100 years.

My son is running through the meadows of wildflowers like I once knew in Alaska as a child. In just a moment I will be with him. It is summer there, the sun never sets in that land.

Perry's Birthday Project

Safari Friends Cocoa Baby Announcements

Click here to browse Shutterfly birth announcement designs.

View the entire collection of cards.

Perry's birthday is rapidly approaching. So far we will be donating sleepsacks and safe sleep information to at least 5 different hospitals in 3 states. Please pray that these sleep sacks and the messages that are given with them will strike parents to take action. Please pray that they will not only affect these parents, but ripple outwards to the 100 lives each.

They say the loss of a baby affects on average, at least 100 people in their immediate community. May these people that would be touched if there were a loss, be touched without one and continue to spread the message.

Please let parents know that babies should be put to bed on their backs in a pack n' play, crib or bassinet, without blankets, peepads, bumpers. Please think about giving a sleep sack at the next baby shower instead of a blanket. Encourage parents to consider methods such as babywearing while the child is awake in place of cosleeping as a bonding option. Remind charities that benefit young families or babies to consider safe sleep recommendations when making purchasing or educational decisions. Let young Moms that are facing a long list of recommended nursery items on a registry list know that some of the things are not only a waste of money but a danger to their child.

While some babies may die regardless of what the parent does or doesn't do, I want these parents to know that they did everything possible and not have doubts.

I cannot say that. I wonder if the same blanket that I held him in was part of it all. His death is listed as undetermined, it offers no explainations or comfort.

I believe that perhaps there is one child that God is reaching out to me to save. TN has the 3rd highest rate of infant mortality in the United States. When Perry died there were at least 3 other babies that day at the examiner's office in Nashville. 3 other babies whose parents are also facing first birthdays alone. I heard a few days later of another family losing a baby in Dixon. Something needs to change. Something has to change.

Family/ Geneology

I have recently started following an interest of mine, geneology. I have always been interested in it, I guess as a military kid who felt like my roots were nonexistant, geneology provides a way of regaining a sense of place. Perhaps not to a location, but an understanding of where you come from. I imagine this is a strong drive to many, adopted children and just the plain curious alike. But I also find myself drawn to it for other reasons.

I find myself drawing comfort from adding names to branches. From finding women who have also lost children. I find myself getting angry when I 'discover' an infant or young child that the majority of 'trees' leave off- almost as if they are saying that the person only mattered if they produced children or lived at least past 10 or 15 years. It's sloppy and annoying.

When I add that child, I feel like I have reclaimed something from death.

I guess I believe that every child makes an imprint on a family. It changes the personality of the individuals, shapes actions and events. Even the void of a child continues to make a lasting impression on those around it- almost like you can tell the existance of black holes by the movent of objects around them. Like other extreme life events, it magnifies traits.

I added Perry to my tree. He is so small and brief, but what a large impact he has made on me. I want other future researchers to know he existed. Future Grandchildren to say "I remember him on my Grandmother's wall, and look- here he is. They never forgot him.". You can even add stories and pictures, something I will probably do for him. I'll be important perhaps because they came from me. Perhaps the casual people who don't care about children that didn't produce offspring will stop and pause when they see a picture attached and add him. I want to make him matter to them.

Family is such a very strange thing. Family gatherings are too. A counselor said that family gatherings are like sugar. Everything is usually painted pleasant. Unfortunately to get substance, to learn, to grow, to be able to progress you need food- the context of the reality, the acknowledgement of good and bad. For grieved parents to progress, they often need that acknowledgement. If you family isn't capable or lacks the skills, family gatherings are dangerous places. To a parent who has lost a child, it can be the equivalent of a gunrange to a veteran who saw hard combat.

The counselor explained that he believed that we were indeed affected by PTSD. And that in the future, we need to limit or avoid exposure, and provide a safe place and a safe way out to prevent regressing back. To be able to find our new normal (not cure- you can't bring Perry back to earth), we need to begin to control what we can and not allow others to set exposure levels for us. He seemed shocked that we even attempted a family gathering so soon and expressed concern that it might have been damaging.

Just as gatherings, family, and events, the individual people involved are complicated.

People are not all good and bad, we are degrees. There are things perhaps society remembers about a person, what years they served in the military, wealth, and accomplishments that are easily written down on paper. And then there is the other side that is not written down, but just as important. What legacy did they leave to their family? Did they care? Did they leave scars that affect to this day how their children's children react to others?

To understand the scars or negative events, sometimes you have to know the source. It gives you that ability to say this is why this person reacts in this way, and I am not letting the event change how I relate to my own spouse or child any more.

Even the things we don't like to talk about- miscarriages, infant deaths, inherited physical and mental diseases, have value. Sometimes the provide clues to not only what is wrong but how to prevent or treat it.

A person isn't defective if they have a 'bad' genetic trait, mental illness, physical illness, past negative event... We are all given slates with cracks in them. It is how you use the canvas you are dealt and whether you choose to face or ignore them that matters. Whether you allow the cracks to spread onto surfaces your children will write on... And if they do, inspite of all your efforts, sometimes sharing how you patched it on your own slate, or where it came from, is just as important. You don't always recognize them as cracks when they begin or spread, sometimes you only learn that with life experience. But you can give your children the power of knowledge, that may be that little extra piece that allows them to make a concious decision. That takes the power from attacker, the sting from death, and all of the the control from an illness or disease. It gives power to the descendants of victims to say that the abuse stops here. It lets you grow children that are more sensitive to others as a result of your experiences instead of damaged people.

As I look at the braches of my family trees, I am very aware that there are probably saints and murders, revolutionary war heroes and child abusers. Sometimes a person can be both. Perhaps the most remarkable figures do not have the most historical importance, perhaps they are a simple name that brought joy to their family or the person who had the strength to walk away from a history of abandonment and form a family that was well loved.

So how do I make future generations understand that about Perry?