If you have any questions about the shirts or onesies, feel free to leave a comment, and I'll do my best to answer! Thanks to Ginna for relaunching the shirt and onesie campaign.
Team Owen Shirts
If you have any questions about the shirts or onesies, feel free to leave a comment, and I'll do my best to answer! Thanks to Ginna for relaunching the shirt and onesie campaign.
joyful news
We had a trip planned to the mountains the day after our anatomy scan. We decided to bring up pink balloons to release to her big brother in heaven. The walk up the mountain that day was redeeming in a way. Eleven months prior, we carried Owen's ashes up the mountain. This day, we had a new little life growing and pink balloons. I dream of the day we will be able to carry this little girl up to visit her big brother. He will always be a part of her life.
when the hard gets harder
I've been missing Egleston a lot lately and all of the people there. It's probably a strange thing to miss, but those are the people that knew Owen with us, and that was the place that he lived. If we still lived in Atlanta, I can promise you I would be a frequent visitor in the CICU to drop off goodies for the staff and gifts for the families.
a year ago today
A year ago today we had to say goodbye. We didn't want to. We selfishly wanted him here with us. How can a new little life end so soon? It was too soon in our minds. I hate replaying the events of this day a year go in mind. It was a day we were told to prepare for, but how can parents prepare for the death of their child? It's impossible... We tried so hard to live in the moment. To enjoy every little bit of life we shared with Owen. How can you prepare for holding your lifeless child in your arms? How can you prepare for leaving his body in the hospital, knowing you will never see him again in this life? You can't. But God gives you the grace to handle each moment.
Yesterday, I went into a children's store for the first time since having Owen, to shop for a friend's baby. I went to this store countless times before Owen was born, preparing for him and buying the cutest little outfits. When I made it in and out of the store without tears and a smile on my face almost exactly a year after his death, I knew it was only by God's grace. I can honestly say that nothing I do is by my own power. If it were up to me, I would spend lots of days crawled up in bed in tears. The ache is so deep a year later. People say it will get better with time. I feel like the people who say this have never lost a child. What I find to be true is that your heart gets used to bearing so much pain and sorrow that you learn to live with it. I loved the sermon on Easter Sunday. It was about deep sorrow turning into pure joy. I love the hope of that. In this past year, I have experienced some moments of joy that I am truly thankful for. A year ago today, I didn't think that would be possible. I am hopeful for more of these moments. It's such a strange balance of emotions. I'm still learning how to feel happiness, excitement, and sorrow all at the same time. It's really hard!
I was talking with a friend a few months ago, sharing some of our story with her for the first time. One of the things she said really struck me. She reminded me that God the same God on the day that I found out I was pregnant with Owen, the day that he was born, the day we found out about his diagnosis, and the day that he died. I love thinking about that. Instead of being angry at him for allowing Owen to die, I think of him rejoicing with us when we found out I was pregnant and when he was born, comforting us when we found out his diagnosis, and mourning with us on the day that he died.
After Owen died, I told my counselor that I just wanted ten years to pass quickly so I could escape the intense pain I felt. Now, I want the opposite. I hate that it's been a year since I held Owen in my arms. I don't want anymore time to pass. I don't want to forget things about him- what he smelled like, the noises he made, the softness of his skin... He will always be my baby and the one who made me a mommy. He is irreplaceable.
A year ago today, heaven became a very real place for me. A part of me is already there, and I can't wait to scoop him in my arms, hold him tight, and never let him go. When I was little and trying to understand what heaven will be like, my parents told me to imagine my happiest day, only better. My happiest day was the day I met Owen and held him in my arms. I can't wait for an eternity of those days.
Owen, your mommy and daddy miss you so much, especially today. Our sadness is deep because our love for you is deep. You continue to be a part of our every day. On our way to church on Sunday, we talked about what we would have put in your Easter basket this year and how cute your little outfit would have been. We fantasized about a family Easter picture after church. We still call our small bedroom that has some of your furniture in it "Owen's room." I still have your same pair of socks in my purse that I had a year ago when you were in the hospital. I smile every time I see them there. Every day we miss you. You have changed our lives for the better, and have taught us so much. A couple days before you died, I told a team of doctors that I didn't want to be the one to share your story. I wanted you to live to share it. God had other plans, and I feel honored to not only be a part of your story, but to continue to share it with others. Your life continues to be used in big ways. I'm so glad I'm a part of it
love,
Mommy
Owen's First Birthday
This is the note that was included in each package.
spreading awareness
Respite Retreat
As the weekend approached, I became quite anxious about everything. The weeks prior to going had been another "dark patch" in my grieving process that didn't seem to be fading. I knew the weekend would stir up lots of really difficult memories and emotions. I was nervous about hearing others' stories and sharing our pain, not knowing what that would look like. The moment we walked into the door, my anxiety went away. Nancy Guthrie was there, greeted us by name and welcomed us in. We spent the weekend with eleven other couples, all who had lost children. I can't tell you how comforting it was to be surrounded by people who truly understand every single thought, worry, ache and pain that we feel. We were able to share Owen's story and listen to the stories of all the other beautiful children. You can imagine how emotional and difficult that was, but it really was good to listen, share, and be heard. When you meet others who have experienced this same loss, there is an instant connection. Those eleven other couples felt like family that weekend. There was lots of time for conversations and getting to know them better. Every thought they shared, I have also felt. We were able to encourage each other through dark moments we have faced or will be facing.
One thing Nancy said really stuck with me. She said, "Nurturing our grief is how we mother our child." I love that. It's so true. As a mother, when you're faced with life without your child to care for, you have to nurture something, and the closest thing to our child is the grief we are left with. The way she said it made me feel more like a mom than I have felt since April when Owen died. In that setting with eleven other moms without their babies, I felt like a normal mom. Something I long to feel every day. It was so comforting.
I wanted to be a sponge that weekend and absorb everything I could. The whole weekend was so good, but the last morning was my favorite. It was a time of praise and worship where we went through scripture together followed by songs. The focus was on hearing Jesus speak into our sorrow. That's really the goal in all of this, right?
Emptiness is what I feel the most (other than deep sorrow) after losing Owen. My arms are empty. His crib is empty. Our house is empty. My heart often feels empty. Nancy spoke about that emptiness. We looked at 2 Corinthians 12:9, "My grace is sufficient for you; for my power is made perfect in weakness. She said God is saying "My grace is going to be enough in the form, timing, and quantity that you need it. I'm going to fill up the emptiness." She said that we see emptiness as our biggest problem, but God sees it as his biggest opportunity. God created the heavens and the earth out of emptiness. He filled it with light, life, and goodness. God spoke it into place. He is enough and he will fill our emptiness.
I also struggle with wondering about the "what if's" during Owen's life... I wonder if he would still be here if we made different decisions about his medical care. It's such a horrible and dangerous place to go in my mind. What if Owen stayed on ECMO one more day, or came off two days before when he was stronger? What if I ate something that caused his heart condition? What if I knew about his sickness before he was born? Would that have changed his treatment and given him a better chance? Those are just a few of the many what if's I think of. We looked at Revelation 1:17-18 that says, "Don't be afraid! ... I hold the keys of death and the grave." Jesus holds the key to life and death. He's on the other side of the door to receive. Even though it feels way too soon to say goodbye, it was right on time. She went on to say, because Jesus holds the keys, we can surrender the "if only's." While I don't like that it was the right time for Owen to die, it's so incredibly freeing to be reminded that nothing I could have done would have changed the outcome.
Exhaustion is another struggle I've faced. Grieving takes so much energy. More energy than I even have most days. "Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens and I will give you rest" - Matthew 11:28. Jesus' invitation and command is to come to Him and He will give us rest. Often times when I come to God, I come with my own agenda. I have plans and dreams and long for them to be met more than I long to draw closer to Him. Nancy said that to rest in Him means surrendering all of our plans. This is the hardest thing for me. When Owen was alive, I remember coming to God, and asking for healing. There was one point though when I asked for healing, but also for His will to be done. It was the scariest thing for me. I knew that in doing that, I was surrendering to my plan for Owen to become healthy and live a full life. Instead, I was accepting the fact that God's will could be to take him home. During these past ten months without him, I still have plans and hopes. I struggle with where my hope lies. Does it lie in having more children and job security and health, or does it lie in the Lord? Letting God be enough even if my prayers aren't answered and coming to Him without an agenda is where true rest is found.
Everything I've felt. Emptiness, anger, regret, sorrow, weariness. It was all covered during this one Sunday morning at the Respite Retreat. As we said our goodbyes before heading home, I went up to Nancy and tearfully told her that I knew people say that healing can happen, but that I honestly didn't believe them. But during that weekend, I wasn't sure how, but my heart experienced some healing for the first time. I am so thankful to Nancy and David for continuing this ministry. As anxious as I was to come, I didn't want to leave. I'm thankful for new friendships and a deeper relationship with God because of it.