Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Who She'd Be Today.

There is a song,  the title is Who You'd Be Today, Kenny Chesney sings it well. This song keeps running through my mind. It seems to perfectly sum up where I am at in my grief. Koralyn's 3rd birthday has come and gone and we are fast approaching the anniversary of her death on July 25. While we try to celebrate her birthday and give back on that special and very bittersweet day, her death day is more for just us. It's often a quiet day full of grief and remembrance. We go to her grave and we cling tight to one another. We talk and remember and we let the pain flow freely on that day.

In many ways, I still can't believe it has been 3 years. It is so strange that she would be 3 years old and that we also mourn her death 3 years ago. Birth and death in the same year, cruel bedfellows to say the least. I look back now at that first year of shock and grief and I am so glad I am not there any longer. Yet in ways, I feel desperate to have people remember her. Some days all of that turmoil seems light years and decades away. Other days the pain is so raw and real it seems only an hour ago I laid my precious daughter down in her coffin for the last time. She wore a purple dress her Grandma Kay had bought for her just months earlier. Her head adorned with a little black bow that matched her little black shoes. She looked as though she was only napping.





Most days are so good now. Filled with 3 boys who keep me a tad insane and very busy. We are always doing something and planning the next thing we need to do. Life continues to move forward. I have breakfasts, lunches, and dinners to make. We have an endless pile of laundry that needs doing and a yard that seems to always need mowing. Life and tasks both mundane and fun take up our hours and our days. Yet our sweet Koralyn, as well as my mom and dad are always there. Koralyn smirks at me through her picture sitting on the window above the kitchen sink. My mom's picture sits near the fireplace, and my dad's picture, the one where he is being bucked off of a wild bull is ever present in the guest room. Our loved ones, our missed ones are all around us, frozen in time. Each one so young when they breathed their last breath and left this earth. We talk about them as much as the boys want to. Amos and I talk of our Koralyn when the pain is raw and we need each other to know. Asa prays about both of his sisters now. 

I thought in my mind, that Koralyn would forever remain the sweet precious baby she was when she died. Frozen in time like her picture, my forever baby, as some call infants who pass before their first birthdays. I wear her little gold baby shoes around my neck each day. Yet lately, especially now that I am expecting our 5th child, another sweet daughter, I seem to wonder more and more who she would be today. Who my sweet Koralyn would be at 3 years old. 

Last weekend we had the privilege of going back to Cook Children's to visit a mom and her sweet boy. They have taken up residence on the 3rd floor, the heart floor as it called. Her son, sweet Matthew will be 3 in early July. He has HLHS just like Koralyn and has had some complications since his 3rd surgery the Fontan. He had the surgery in late April and has been back at the hospital since very early May. With only a brief trip home in between. He and his mom are living on the 3rd floor. Patiently waiting for the day they can hopefully go home for good. We met back in 2012 when they were staying at the Ronald Mcdonald House awaiting Matthews arrival. Then we became neighbors in the nicu and then the picu. Matthew is such a sweet little guy. He was so happy during our visit, you would never know of his heart condition if it wasn't for his oxygen tubes and other obvious equipment he currently needs. Without all those tubes Matthew just looks like a normal little man. That seems to be part of the cruelty of CHD's. Our kids look so normal to the outside world.  

The last time I saw Matthew before this past weekend, was when he was still a tiny baby at home in Amarillo. Getting to sit and visit with his sweet mama and watch him play with my boys, really made me stop to think about where Koralyn would be today. She more then likely would be through with her 3rd surgery as Matthew is. She would probably be a tiny wisp of a girl, as congenital heart defects usually stunt growth. (I always like to think had I not had an ASD I would be taller then the 5'6 that I am today, maybe that is just wishful thinking on my part) I sat and wondered if we would be struggling and still in the hospital after her Fontan. Sweet girl struggled so much after all of her procedures, I wouldn't doubt it may have been a bumpy road for us had she lived. I wondered if she would be as lively as little Matthew. Smiling and laughing and running the halls in her little sock feet. For a moment I sat and wondered why we didn't get this privilege of walking her through like Matthew's mama gets to do for him. I often question if God knew I wasn't strong enough, wasn't capable enough to handle the road ahead. I often struggle with feelings of not being good enough to deserve my sweet girl here on this earth. I know better, and yet I struggle. Don't all parents feel inadequate for the huge job that is parenting and raising up a child? 

I feel in many ways this road I have been on is tougher then the one I would be walking had Koralyn lived. No parent wants to stand by her child's grave on the important days. No parent wants to wonder about her child's voice or hair color, or what the weight of their little body would feel like in her arms. I was so scared for what our future held when Koralyn was alive. Mostly for my boys and how their lives would be affected. Just a few weeks ago as our family enjoyed a road trip up the Blue Ridge Parkway I thought of Koralyn and how the trip would have been so different with her. Would she have needed oxygen to make the drive up in elevation? Would we all be holding our breath in worry for her? Would we have even decided against the location due to complications. She comes to my mind every single time one of my boys gets sick. I think about how scary all the illness would have been with her. Now what I wouldn't give for a chance to see how we would have rallied and succeeded in the face of sickness and difficulty. As I often say to Amos, we would have done it no matter what. We would have loved her and fought for her and adjusted  our lives. He always says back to me, Kenda we were already doing it. We were already doing all of those things. It is then that I struggle with the whys. Then why is it we couldn't keep her? We were loving her and doing our very best and she still slipped away. Why is it that we didn't deserve to keep loving her and fighting for her? It is in those moments when I must rest on God's sovereignty and also His goodness. 

Jeremiah 29:11

11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.


I must decide now that this is His narrative for my life as well as Koralyn's. I must keep on loving her and in several ways continue to fight for her. I still struggle with the fact that I want to do big things to honor her. I do realize though, that each day I continue to love and care for my boys and do little things in Koralyn's honor, I am succeeding. I am not letting death win. I am not letting bitterness take over my heart and my mind. Don't get me wrong, I have some days, especially it seems some early mornings where I want to succumb to the pain and the bitterness and let it eat me. I want to yell out how unfair this all has been and cry until my head throbs. 

Most days I am okay with carrying these memories. I feel so much redemption over me as I expect another sweet daughter. The questions from strangers feel less cruel now, and give me an opportunity to tell my Koralyn's story, and better still, the story of how God has carried me these past 3 years. When asked now about my growing belly and if I am finally getting my girl, I can proudly say yes! It is a girl, oh but she is not my finally. There was another precious girl before her, Koralyn Marie was her name. And while she doesn't hold space here on earth any longer, she does hold space in our family and in our hearts every single day. Her pictures hang on the wall and her memories in our hearts and minds eye. 

So here I am in this new stage of grief and joy. Filled with so much hope for the upcoming birth of another daughter. Filled with gratitude for the amazing rambunctious sons I already have. Gratitude for Koralyn as well,  and also filled with questions about who she would be today. I can picture her here in the house in her room filled with toys and bows and dresses. Running and giggling after her brothers. Being feisty at all of her heart check ups and many doctors visits. Continuing to steal all of our hearts as she did during her short time here on earth.  Like the song says,"the only thing that gives me hope, is I know I'll see you again someday."  

John 14:2

My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?

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