and if not...

And if not, He is still good. This has been the phrase I repeat to myself over and over again to remember God's goodness, because to be honest, I don't really feel it most of the time. Just saying those words brings me to tears because I feel such disappointment from God, yet I know that he loves me and cares about the state of my heart. To this day, I honestly can't believe Owen isn't here. I really can't. It takes my breath away. During his life, I was certain God would heal him, and that so many people would be drawn to the Lord because of it. But that wasn't the plan. We experienced the "and if not" to our biggest hope and prayer. Even if I don't feel that God is still good all the time, I know that he is. I'm thankful for his goodness.

I wanted a reminder of this truth displayed in my house, so I asked my friend Becca to make some sort of sketchy doodle so I could hang it on my wall. She had the idea to use a photo with words over it, and I loved that idea. I thought a picture of The Bald where Owen's ashes are spread would be the perfect photo to use. Originally, we thought we'd use a sunny picture with a view of the mountains, but Becca played around with this picture of The Bald that I took on Christmas day, and I think it's perfect.

There's something about the grey and coldness of this picture that speaks to me. It's powerful. It reminds me of the truth I long to feel in this cold, dark season. It gives me hope. I can't wait to hang it on my wall. 

Becca has these prints for sale in her shop *here*. She is donating all the profits to the Sibley Heart Center.

New Year

2014 was the happiest year of my life. Brian and I met the love of our lives, our precious baby boy. For several hours, we were bursting with more joy than ever before. Our son was in our arms, looking into our eyes, and he was perfect. For forty-three precious days we got to hold his hands, stroke his head, give him kisses, read to him, talk to him, pray for him, and watch him. I have mixed feelings about 2014 being over. While you may look at our year and think it was the worst year of our lives, I'm actually sad it's over. I hate that those moments filled with Owen are over. Starting a new year really doesn't change anything. The pain doesn't just go away. It will always be here. You don't just move on after losing your child, you have to figure out how to cope so that you can continue to live! I've never relied more on the Lord in my life that I have in 2014. I often ask him to help me to do simple things that I feel are impossible. I's such a relief to know that  I'm not alone and that I don't have to rely solely on my own strength because if that were the case, I'd crawl into a hole for the rest of my life.

Last year we had dreams for what 2014 would be. We dreamed of meeting our son, bringing him home, watching him grow, and being parents. We had no idea we would hit our highest high and our lowest low in the same year. I have dreams for 2015, but my heart is scared to dream them. It has been shattered to pieces and hasn't been put back together completely. Some days it feels more broken than others.

I miss the happiness and innocence I used to feel, and I know that I will never be the same. This has been so discouraging to me until a dear friend who has also experienced great loss pointed out that it's actually a good thing. She told me to watch for the good because it is coming. She asked if I believe her when she says that suffering brings precious gems. Tears flowed as I read her words. I found such hope in them. I do believe her, only because she has gone through it before. I honestly can't see how that's possible right now, but I believe her. I do. 

Today grief hit strong. It knocked me to my knees and the ache felt almost as fresh as the day Owen died. I went back to the sermon my uncle Vann preached at Owen's funeral. He used the story from John 11 when Mary and Martha asked Jesus to heal their brother Lazarus. John 11:6, "So, when He heard that Lazarus was sick, He stayed two more days in the place where He was." Vann talks about how the word "so" is interesting. Jesus could have gone immediately to Lazarus and healed him, but he didn't. He waited until he died because he wanted Mary and Martha to know Him more than a healer. Vann presented a question in his sermon and asked, "How is Owen's death going to impact you? What difference is it going to make in your life? What is your "so" going to be? It could be that God gives you a heart for a particular ministry. It could be that you grow in your faith. It could be what causes you to come to Christ." 

My "so" is lots of things already, and I believe it will be more. I want that to be my focus in this new year.

Book & Blanket drive in honor of Owen

In a little more than two months, we will celebrate Owen's first birthday. While this is not the type of celebration I had hoped for, we would still like to make it a special day and do something meaningful in honor of our sweet boy. We would like to host a Book & Blanket drive for the babies in the CICU at Egleston, and we'd love for you to join us! 

Books and blankets were two of the most special things to us during Owen's life. Reading to him created memories I will never forget. I remember which books were his favorites, his first, and his last. I love being reminded of Owen when I see his books in a store. 

Having our own personal blankets made the hospital feel so much more like home. I loved choosing which blanket would be his "bottom sheet" and which one he would be wrapped in each day. We were given so many books and blankets at baby showers, so we had plenty in our rotation each day. I would love to give other families memories and a little comfort of home in the midst of such tragedy. 

Blankets can be gently used or new. I will wash all of them before packaging them. If you would like to join us, you can mail items directly to us, and we will package and deliver them to Egleston at the end of February. Email us at brianandallisonparker@gmail.com if you would like our address. Thanks for the support you have shown us this year. Our hearts are heavy as we have entered the holiday season and approach Owen's birthday without him here. We are thankful for special ways like this one to continue to remember him and spread joy to others since he gave us so much joy in his short time.

**Update: Friends in the Gwinnett area, if you would like to drop items off locally, let me know. I have people who are available to collect items from you locally.

missing the innocence

The other day I was scrolling through my instagram pictures and came across this one from my birthday last year. "Last birthday in my 20's and without a child!" It feels like a harsh reminder of what should have been. Next week, I will be 30, but my child won't be in my arms.

In this picture I was seven months pregnant, excited, and happy. There was an innocence about me that I didn't even know I had until it was gone. When I lost Owen, I lost a part of me. A part I don't know I will ever get back. I long for that innocence and happiness again. I long for the life I thought I would have. The life I spent nine months dreaming of. The life I didn't even know I wanted so badly until it happened. And for some reason, it was taken away all too soon. This year as I approach my birthday, it doesn't feel very happy. I want to take this same picture again this year with my 10 month old in my arms reaching for the cake. I still can't believe Owen isn't here. I long for him with all that I am.  

This holiday/birthday season is just hard. I wasn't sure if I wanted to get a tree this year or decorate for Christmas, but we did anyways. I love to decorate and be creative. I rarely have the energy for it these days, but when I do, I take advantage of it. Part of me is able to escape from reality when I'm focused on being creative and making things beautiful. I didn't have a stocking for Owen before he was born, but I bought one for him two weeks ago. It felt right. I picked out the cutest one for him and stitched his name on ever so carefully. After I hung them on the mantle, I sobbed. I sobbed happy tears for the moments we shared with him during  his life, and I sobbed tears of sorrow for the sadness we feel without him here in our home. I love seeing his name hanging on our mantle, and I love seeing our names together.

I feel an overwhelming feeling of disappointment from God. I'm disappointed in so many things, but ultimately it comes down to the fact that my plans are not his, and that's hard. This holiday season seems to intensify my sadness. I feel like I am constantly surrounded by happy people with happy lives. Just finding a Christmas card that didn't say "Merry & Bright!" or "Happy Holidays!" was quite challenging. When I go to church, all I see are happy people. I would love to get through a Sunday without tears. Where are the other suffering people? Not that I want others to suffer, but this state I'm in can feel so isolating. 

Jealousy is another emotion I've been struggling with. Just last night, I found a blog post from a mother of four who is battling cancer. She is in the midst of severe physical pain and suffering and talked about the jealousy she feels of "normal families." I relate to that completely. I'm jealous others with healthy children, and I'm also jealous of my old self. The person who was energetic and happy, and innocent. I now feel weak, scarred, broken, and unable to be fixed. Last week, a friend sent me this excerpt from her devotion. "Our weakness should be prized as making room for divine strength. We might never have known the power of grace if we had not felt the weakness of nature. Blessed be the Lord for the thorn in the flesh and the messenger of Satan, when they drive us to the strength of God... Let us then, fall back upon our God and his grace. If he does not remove our grief, he will enable us to bear it." I am thankful for this reminder that through my weakness, He is strong. My prayer is that during this season, I will be reminded of God's promises and blessings and that his grace will be enough for me each day.

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.