anger

I've been a little silent lately because I'm in a dark place. My goal in sharing our journey through Owen's life and dealing with is death was to encourage other parents going through the same thing we are. It's important to be real. People keep asking how we're doing, so I thought I'd share... We have a lot to be thankful for. God has provided a new city, a new home, new friends,and secure jobs for both of us. All of those things are important, but none of it seems to compare to the amount of sadness we feel. I want to tell people that I'm doing great and that I see God working in my life like never before, but the truth is I'm having a hard time seeing that right now. My heart is hurting deeply. I want my grief to be redeemed. I know it's possible, but I don't feel like it is.

I'm angry. I'm angry that thousands of people prayed for our son to be healed, and that God didn't answer our prayers. Why does he heal other babies but not ours? I'm angry that Owen's little body went through so much poking and prodding in his 43 days. I'm angry that our first experience of becoming parents was so extremely traumatic. I'm angry that we will go through another Mother's and Father's Day with empty arms. I'm angry that I have a hard time being happy for other people when they experience blessings. I hear stories of God's goodness in other people's lives because of Owen. It's great, but none of it seems worth his life. I'm angry that I feel this way and that it isn't getting any easier.

Every day I'm constantly on the verge of tears. I come home from work at night exhausted from trying to hold it together all day. I've been feeling angrier and sadder than ever before. We have a lot of annual events in the fall. Weekends with friends, birthdays, holidays... All of it is hard. This time last year we thought, "There will be an eight month old with us next year!" I bought cute little flannel shirts, moccasins, puffy vests, and hats last fall for Owen to start wearing now. I hate that he's not here to wear them. Birthdays and celebrations are darkened. It's hard to get excited and celebrate. I can't believe it's almost November. Life keeps moving forward, yet my heart feels scarred and frozen in a state of pain. I long for the innocence I once felt but never appreciated. My whole perspective on every single thing has changed.

I know that anger is one of the stages of grief, but I'm ready for it to pass. I'm angry at God, but then I remember that because of him, Owen has eternal life. It's a constant battle I face every day. My prayer is that Owen's life and death, and all of the trauma we faced during his life will make me a better. I don't want to be bitter. 

When Owen was alive, I posted updates on his caringbridge site. At the end of each post, I always listed blessings no matter how difficult the day was. God was present in our lives during Owen's life and cared for us in unexpected ways. He continues to bless us in unexpected ways. A friend encouraged me to continue to continue to write down all of the blessings I experience so I can see where God is in my grief. I know he's there to walk through this with me if I let him. 

Infant Loss Remembrance Day

Our incredible tears of joy turned into deep tears of sadness far too soon. Missing Owen with all my heart and longing for the day when we are reunited. With heavy hearts we honor Infant Loss Remembrance Day - a day we wanted nothing to do with. The pain is immense, yet worth it for every second of Owen's precious life. I am trying so very hard to see God's goodness. I'm thankful for our Father in heaven who has the whole world in His hands. He is strong and mighty and is holding my precious Owen in the same hands he holds me. I'm thankful for that. My heart is heavy for every parent who is experiencing the same ache. I pray that you feel hope and peace in the midst of your sadness. Today we remember all the babies who have left this world far to soon. 

a few more changes

I haven't written about our recent changes because in the grand scheme of everything, they seem so insignificant. We are thankful that a new home and  a new job for me has fallen into place.

In June, I was hired as an SLP at a multidisciplinary pediatric clinic that is very reputable here in Charlotte. I feel honored to be a part of their team. I spent the last six years working in the schools full time and additionally part time at a small private practice. This is a bit of a change, and it has kept me quite busy. It feels good to work again and get back in a routine, although I grew quite accustomed to staying at home and having time for more things than I usually do. I have met some great people at my new job which I am thankful for. Because of Owen, I look at my work in a different way. I am able to relate to the families I work with so closely without them even knowing it. I also have a new compassion for my patients after all all we went through during Owen's life that I wouldn't have had otherwise. 

On August 28th, we closed on our first home. The home buying process wasn't necessarily smooth, but now that we're in our new home, it's all a blur. Maybe it's similar to childbirth on a much lesser scale... You forget the pain when you see your precious baby's face for the first time.

We moved in from the apartment we were living in temporarily (which is five minutes from the house) with the help of some very dear friends. 

We love this home so much. It is an older house with lots of charm, and it's in a great location. On our first night moving in, seven people came by to introduce themselves and welcome us to the neighborhood. I visited forty-three houses in Charlotte with our sweet realtor, but none of them compared to this one. It was meant to be, and we are thankful to start our family memories here. 

Even in this new home it feels like someone is missing. Someone is missing. He will always be missing for the rest of our earthly lives. One of the bedrooms in our house feels like it should be Owen's. Most of the baby items were taken to Brian's parents a few weeks after he died, but I kept a few special items that I wasn't able to part with. And then there were random items like bibs and a puj tub that were mixed in with miscellaneous items in boxes when we moved. Unpacking those items was so strange. I unpacked the chalkboard that I used to count the weeks of my pregnancy. It still says "Baby Owen - 40 weeks!" It's hard to believe that there should be an almost seven month old baby here. I see pictures of other babies born around Owen's birthday, and they all look so big. They're sitting up and smiling and interacting... I wonder what Owen would look like at that age and wish for those moments and memories we never had with him. 

I'm waiting for the day when the shades of my "darkened glasses" are clear again. I long for my heart to be made whole and for the emptiness I feel to go away. Sometimes I get discouraged that it still hurts so badly, but other days I'm truly amazed at how well I'm doing. I know we all live every day by the grace of God, but for the first time in my life, I can truly say that it is only by God's grace and strength that I am able to live and move forward in life. Missing him, loving him with all my heart. Sweet baby boy. 

six months

It was so wonderful to start a new tradition today honoring Owen by random acts of kindness. His six month birthday was the perfect time to start. Instead of waking up with a heavy heart, I woke up excited about doing something out of the ordinary to celebrate Owen. I know so many people continue to pray for us. Today I felt your prayers. Right before my run this morning, I saw this post on instagram.

This sweet woman (who lost her son Aaden a few years ago), is praying for specific women by name who have also lost babies while she trains for a half marathon, which happens to fall on Aaden's sixth birthday. I saw my name written on her arm, and got chills. I'm so thankful for her heart and her prayers. As I was running, I relived my favorite moments of Owen's life in mind. I completely zoned out which made for a very fast first two miles. :)

Later this afternoon I decided to browse an antique mall. When I was checking out, I overheard an employee telling someone that she just lost her granddaughter. I looked over at her, made eye contact with her, and told her that I just lost a baby too. She came over, gave me a hug, and we both started to cry. It was one of those moments that caught me off guard- my tears wouldn't stop. She told me about her granddaughter and how she only lived for two weeks, yet she fulfilled her purpose in those two weeks more than anyone else could have. I told her about Owen and how he did the same in his six weeks. I told her he would have been six months old today, and how we were planing on celebrating his life. It was a short but meaningful few minutes with a stranger that I felt such a huge connection with. I left the store in tears. A mixture of happy and sad tears. I'm thankful for the blessings I continue to experience throughout my grief. 

Thanks so much to everyone who participated in random acts of kindness! I loved seeing pictures flood social media and getting texts through out the day of things people were doing in his honor. There were some great posts! Leaving flowers on someone's doorstep, making a cake for a friend, paying for some's Redbox movie, leaving an extra tip at a restaurant, making breakfast for coworkers, buying a new mom a Starbucks gift card, giving "The Little Engine That Could" (Owen's last book) to a fiend's daughter, leaving money taped on a vending  machine, making granola for another family, buying someone's coffee or breakfast in the drive through, leaving a Duncan Donuts gift card for the employees at the pool shop, passing out cold drinks to people at a hot bus stop, buying a Walmart gift card for an employee who was having a hard day, serving a meal to a large group of people, making a donation to a chapel for parents who have lost children, donating clothes to  a foster child... I'm sure there are more that I'm missing.  

Earlier this week I got a message from a friend. She told me she was talking about heaven with her four-year-old. He was saying that he didn't want to go to heaven because he likes this world just fine. She started telling him all the great things about heaven and why it will be better than here. He then said, "Oh and I can meet baby Owen and see how big and strong he is." It totally made my day. It warms my heart to know that people still remember my sweet boy. 

Happy six months sweet Owen! We love you and miss you every moment of every day. We can't wait to see how big and strong you are in heaven one day! 

random acts of kindness

I'm constantly trying to think of new ways to incorporate Owen into our daily lives. Even though he's not here, he is a huge part of our family. I love when he comes up in conversation. Last week at church, a lady noticed my necklace and asked if it had my children's names on it. I smiled and told her about being Owen's mom. I think about him all the time. I miss him more than words can describe, but I also feel such gratitude for being able to be his mother. The twenty-third day of the month is always a hard one for me, but I'd love to turn those days into days of happiness. We decided to honor Owen's life through random acts of kindness, and we'd love it if you would join us in this! Our plan is to do one random act of kindness on the twenty-third of each month, but you could do it any day you like! Pinterest is full of ideas. It could be paying for someone's meal or coffee behind you in the drive through, making a donation to a charity, doing someone's yard work, leaving quarters taped to a vending machine, dropping off brownies to your neighbors, leaving your mailman a treat, etc. We plan on leaving little notes [link here] so that Owen's story can continue to spread. If you join us with this, take a picture of your random act of kindness and post to #owenthomasparker. We're excited about honoring his life in this new way! 

Join #TeamOwen!

I just wanted to share with everyone that my cousin's husband, Matt Barr is participating in the upcoming American Heart Association Heart Walk in Nashville. Owen is his inspiration for participating in the walk and for raising money for the AHA. His fundraising goal is $1000. If Owen's story has impacted your life, please consider donating to this fundraiser in his honor. Matt's fundraising page can be found here. Thanks so much for your support! And a special thanks to Matt for participating in the walk and honoring Owen in this special way.

five months

People often tell me what a strong person I am. How they can't imagine what I'm going through, and that they don't know how they would be able to get through such loss. I hope I don't make myself look stronger than I really am. Because lately, I haven't felt very strong. There isn't a day that goes by without tears at some point in the day. My pain is extraordinary. Maybe it's getting a little easier, I don't know. I think I'm just getting used to what it feels like to live life with part of my heart missing. I still have days where all I can do is cry and cry and cry some more. Owen is gone, and he is never coming back. I feel peace knowing he is in heaven, and I thank God for that. But sometimes it doesn't help ease the pain that I continue to feel.

I was shopping this weekend and saw a new mom holding her infant. Another lady stopped and asked how old her baby was. The mom said she was seven weeks old. My heart sank and my eyes instantly filled with tears as I remembered that I never saw Owen live to seven weeks. At seven weeks, we had already had his funeral. It still doesn't seem real. I go through every single photo of him over and over and let my tears flow. I am still blown away by how beautiful and precious he was. He will always remain little and perfect in my mind.

After Owen died, a sweet friend sent me Nancy Tillman's book, Wherever You Are My Love Will Find You. I love these words she writes...

"I wanted you more than you ever will know, so I sent love to follow you wherever you go.

It's high as you wish it. It's quick as an elf. You'll never outgrow it... it stretches itself!

So climb any mountain... climb up to the sky! My love will find you. My love will fly! 

Make a big splash! Go out on a limb! My love will find you. My love can swim!

It never gets lost, never fades, never ends..." 

My love for Owen is never ending which means the loss I feel is also never ending. Oh how I wish I could hold him and read him this book. It's so easy to wallow in my pain and think about all that I don't have, when really, there is much to be thankful for. 

I met a new friend today who also lost her baby boy around the same time we lost Owen. She was talking about heaven and how she believes her son will welcome her there whenever that day comes. Hearing this brought tears to my eyes as I imagined Owen standing there waiting for me and welcoming me with a huge smile and his arms wide open. I can't wait for that day.

I've really been trying to find where God is in my pain and grief. I need help finding him in it. I know he is "close to the brokenhearted," but I don't always feel it. I'm reading a book right now that reminds me that Jesus has experienced every single feeling I feel right now. In a way, it makes me feel closer to him. In Hearing Jesus Speak Into Your Sorrow, Nancy Guthrie writes, "When we hear Jesus speak into our sorrow, we hear his assurance that he has been here before us and that he has things about himself to reveal to us in this hard place, which we could not have been ready to listen for and learn without the hurt." I'm hurting in a pretty major way right now, so I am certain that God is calling me into a deeper, more real relationship with him than I've ever had before. I have to keep reminding myself of this on my darkest days. Owen's life was for a purpose. My pain and suffering after losing him is for a purpose. The question is whether I will be willing to submit to that purpose and grow from it. I really hope so...

Owen would have been five months old today. I am celebrating him today and all that he has given me. He taught me how to love unconditionally, and he taught me more about God's fatherly love. He gave me a new perspective on hope and where my hope lies. Happy five months, sweet boy! I love you with all my heart!