I sat at my computer one evening after putting the boys to bed and clicked on an article about one of the Sandy Hook mothers. I can't remember the title of the article but it was about the sweet mom struggling in the weeks since her sons death. Specifically it was about her dreams, literally what she was dreaming every night, or most nights. Some dreams were good, her son smiling in the bathroom brushing his teeth telling her he was all right. One dream she had had several times was her on a mountain birthing her sweet boy only to descend down a long flight of stairs to drop the baby before she reached the bottom, rushing to find him dead once down. I sat there reading and thinking about this club of moms to dead children I find myself in. Thinking how I know exactly the dread of going to bed as well as the dread of waking to find it is all indeed true. I wanted to give her a hug and let her know she is not alone in this, of course she knows that I am sure. Sadly she was not alone that day, many more lost their beloved children.
I remember walking out of Cook Children's for the last time, making that lonely drive home on that sunny afternoon and walking into an empty house filled with ache and sorrow. Thinking, saying out loud even, what do we do now? I had been at the hospital for so long fighting for my girl I didn't know what to do with this new found time on my hands. What could we do, we laid down and cried ourselves to sleep in the late afternoon, exhausted from the days that had passed, exhausted in grief. I remember waking confused a few hours later and then the dread set in and my heart physically hurt. God gave us sleep if for nothing else then to help us survive this crazy life and shut down so as not to overload completely.
A few weeks after being home my dreams started, nightmares really. The most vivid and terrifying one I can recall was a scenario I had been in with Koralyn several times but this time in place of Koralyn (who my brain seemed to know was dead even in dreams) was Asher. My sweet boy Asher was now in danger. All the doctors and nurses whose faces were familiar were at my home diagnosing my sweet boy. I was in a panic and trying to tell them he was dying, only they couldn't hear me, or see me, or were just ignoring me for whatever reason. He stopped breathing and they weren't doing enough to help him so I ran into his room and picked him up and ran with him to the circle of doctors and then woke up terrified. I went and checked on him to make sure he was okay, which he was of course. That was the worst of them but not the only one. I think I had to go through this to help my body and soul process what we had been through and come to a place where I could not be afraid and on edge all the time. It seemed with Koralyn up to her very last breath, that whenever we felt like she was thriving and turning a corner, like we could let down our guard and be happy, a new crisis would occur and really that was the case. We never gave up hope though, until the very last hour when the doctors came into that little room and told us there was no more. Maybe even when I walked into the room where they had taken her and picked up her heavy swollen body and that kind doctor unhooked the ventilator I thought maybe, just maybe she would breathe on her own, knowing she wouldn't, but yet still hoping. That is a parents job and gift, to never give up hope for their children no matter what the road ahead or behind looks like. Hope is a gift from God to be used, without Hope we would all cease to keep going.
A few weeks ago Amos sat down one night to tell me he had had a dream the night before. A dream about our Koralyn. He was afraid to tell me but I insisted that since he brought it up he needed to! He said that in the dream he was standing at his cousin Rita's house, which is right down the hill from his childhood home. They were talking and watching as I came down the hill holding the hands of a toddling Koralyn. We were smiling and happy. He said what was so strange is that he was happy during the dream but also kept thinking this isn't right, Koralyn is dead not alive and walking towards me. The dream continued at our home where Koralyn seemed to be sick and I was in bed with her trying to calm her and take care of her and then just like that it ended. He woke up happy if not a bit confused.
I have to admit I was jealous that he had such a lovely dream of our daughter while I have only had hard ones. I was also happy for him and felt like that sweet dream was a gift to him, an assurance that Koralyn is indeed well now.
I am in a hard place right now, my grief has taken up residence it seems. I bought a sign while we were in Galveston that hangs on my dining room wall. It says: You cannot prevent the birds of sorrow from flying over your head, but you can prevent them from building nests in your hair. Well friends, it seems they have made themselves at home lately. I think maybe this is part of the difficulty of grief, the loneliness of it all. Its funny how now in a room full of people I feel so unknown and lonely in my grief. Recently I was in a room with over 800 women and its in these moments I can feel utterly alone. If I focus only on that (my grief and whats missing) I tend to pity myself and think no one knows my pain. I sat there feeling a twinge of bitter and then realized if statistics are true I am certainly not alone in my grief. Not that I want people to be grief stricken but there is something about knowing you are not alone, someone else knows your pain, it helps. Again God made us to want and need connection.
I think the reason I seem to be having so much trouble right now in my grief almost 11 months since Koralyn's birth, and 9 since mom died, and next month will mark a year since Grandma passed; is that I am angry. I am usually not very angry, or at least I don't think I am in most circumstances. Its taken a lot of soul searching to admit that yes indeed right now I feel angry and alone in many ways. I think it is okay to feel this way but it wouldn't be okay if I just decided to stay this way. So me and God and yes my sweet counselor too, we are talking it out. I am talking to God a lot more these days, telling him how I feel, asking him for help. Some days I feel so confused, others just weary, some are good or okay, and some days are very bad.
Two Sundays ago we sang "I Surrender All" Standing there in the sanctuary I wondered at the words and the people around me and my own heart as well. Can I, would I, surrender all? How many people sharing this room with me would, could, really surrender all for their faith? I have been pondering this lately because it seems I am having such a hard time coming to terms with the fact that I had a sweet baby girl, a daughter, and now I don't. It doesn't help that so many around me or in the public eye are happily pregnant and giving birth. Its like salt on a very deep wound. I feel like I am at a point where acceptance is needed to move forward. Not anger, or bargaining,or depression, but acceptance. Acceptance that yes, I had a daughter and she was beautiful and amazing and her life was so hard for her and for us. I had so many hopes and dreams for her and a closet full of clothes and a room waiting for her at home. Yet God has chosen to glorify himself through her death instead of through her life, wouldn't have been my choice of course, but it was his. So now I have to choose whether or not I will be angry and distraught because God didn't do my will but his instead; or whether I can come to a place of acceptance and surrender. Surrendering my hopes and dreams that were wrapped up in my daughter and her life, surrendering my dreams for my mom and my kids having her as their grandmother for a long time here on this earth. Surrendering so much. My feelings tell me its not fair and I should be angry and sad and feel sorry for myself and just give up. But this is where I feel like my faith will stand and my faith tells me that surrendering my life and my dreams and my daughter and mother to my God will in the end, bring Glory and Joy to God and to me. Maybe not here today or even tomorrow or two years from now or a decade later. Maybe while still on this earth or maybe not until I can see all their smiling faces after leaving this earth. I need to now stand firm in my faith that tells me Jesus knows my grief and my sorrow and he wants and plans good for my life, for all who believe. Here is where almost 11 months later the rubber meets the road and I decide my God knows what he is doing or decide he doesn't and walk away. Even on my worst days when I want to give up I have to believe what my faith tells me is so. God is good all the time. Thats so easy to say when things are going great and your baby is healed and your mom can go have lunch with you. Its a whole different ball game when it seems God has answered all your prayers in ways you wouldn't have. When you come home with no sweet girl to dress up and love.
So now my friends I will stand and say, God is indeed good all the time and there is still so much to be thankful for. After all, without Koralyn and her precious life or the loss of my mom and grandmother I wouldn't be at this deep, sweet, sad place, where I am learning more about myself and my savior. Leaning on him to take my next step and my next breath. I want to be able to look back and to move forward saying yes Lord, yes I will surrender all. After all my faith tells me he could ask for more of me before all is said and done. Just like my faith tells me to not lose hope, it also tells me not to fear tomorrow. So here I sit with a broken heart (yes still, surprise! grief doesn't leave after only a month or two like so many in America want us to believe) but my faith tells me its okay to grieve, as long as I don't lose hope. Each day I have to ask for help and each day I am able to keep breathing and going and hoping.
What have you had to surrender to Jesus? A person? A dream? A future? I still sit here and wonder if tomorrow God asked me or forced me to surrender all, could I? I hope that yes, I could indeed surrender all for something greater, for someone greater, who indeed surrendered all for me on the cross. The words of this simple hymn are not so simple, they are heavy and deep, and I never really listened to them until I had to surrender things I wouldn't have chosen to surrender in my own strength. Daily still surrendering all.
"All to Jesus I surrender, all to him I freely give; I will ever love and trust him, in his presence daily live. I surrender all, I surrender all, all to thee my blessed Savior, I surrender all."
