Ashley's Season

We're entering Ashley's season, and it occurred to me that it would be fun to return to the blog.  I haven't written in five years, so I'm guessing that this is just between my girls and myself.

Ashley it is a very interesting thing, to find myself crying today, and then I realize your birthday is coming up...it's your season.  I call it your season because Feb. 17th is your birthday and it is followed by Mar. 18th, which is your heaven day.  We buy a floating balloon, because Mira loves that, and make a little remembrance spot with your pictures and candles as we talk to you and ask you to pray for us and others.

We move into Hope's season in the summer with her birthday, which is followed by her heaven day a month later.  And then we move into busy season with Mira's birthday in the fall, and pumpkins, and school, then Christmas.  Until we roll around to Ashley's season again.  It has a nice rhythm to it.

The tears are good.  I won't give them too much attention, since they come and go. I love remembering my girls.  Mira is a great help in remembering them, because I get to share stories and pictures with her.  It feels good to sit here...writing...with not too much to say.  I tried to write a few years ago, and had an intense anxiety attack, that left me recovering for a few hours on the couch.  Apparently, I wasn't ready.  My counselor has given me excellent strategies to use for the anxiety and panic that developed after the girls died.  It's been a rather amusing process, since I handled so much for so long....and then found that I couldn't do very much.  It has been humbling and I'm grateful.

There is a lot I could say about this journey, but I'm not sure how far to go here.  Perhaps I'll be back to share more...

Put it in a box

I hurt! 

I know there isn't much activity on my blog, and that there is likely very few who will see this, and that's just fine.  Someone might see this and find something helpful, and that would be great.  Either way, I feel like writing and that's what I'll do.

I just finished watching a video that makes a LOT of sense.  The link is here...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0rCfXSdYPE

The topic is grieving and since I'm still trying to figure out this grieving thing, I found it very insightful.  The speaker talks about grief and the natural inclination to deal with it, and put it away (or we try anyway).  Sometimes we're even encouraged to seek 'closure' and move on... "put it in a box" ...so to speak.  But we don't move on from those we loved and lost.

Ashley and Hope are part of every moment of my day.  I feel joy and sadness at the same time.  I laugh with delight as Mira tries on the next box of Ashley & Hope's clothes, and at the same time, I feel the tears as I remember...

Sometimes I ache so deeply, and I wonder how it is that I walk around with smile and continue to what needs to be done.  I'm allowed to hurt.  This doesn't mean there is something wrong with me, or that I haven't grieved properly, or that something is left undone.  It just means I love my girls in heaven.  I don't need to move on from them.  I will love them, miss them and ache for the rest of my life.  This makes some people uncomfortable, and I don't want anyone to be uncomfortable.  So, instead of trying to fix the hurting person, I'll give you a hint...just love them.  Look at them tenderly, wait quietly, or ask, "what memories come to mind today?".  It is such a great gift when I am asked to share about my girls.  I don't prefer to put them 'in a box'. 

I still struggle with a difficult moment after the funerals.  It was kindly, but wrongly suggested that I should end the blog and wrap it up nicely...kind of like the end of a story.  I've never really understood why I reacted so strongly and felt so hurt by that suggestion.  It was certainly not meant to hurt, and I don't hold it against the individual.  But I realize now, that I was instinctivly reacting against the idea that I should 'end' the story on my girls, that somehow their lives on earth were over therefore I should be done talking about them.  I should somehow just keep everything to myself, deal with it on my own, find closure and put it all in a box so that everyone else can be comfortable around me.

What do you think, as I talk about Ashley & Hope here on the blog?  Do you think I'm in need of healing, that I don't have 'closure', and that I should get over it already?  I may have thought that way at one time.  Watch the link above, because it's the wrong way to think.

I hurt, and that's okay.  I still laugh, smile, and have fun with my kids.  I still go to work, and meet the daily expectations that come my way.  I can be sad and be joyful at the same time.  It's not an 'either/or'.  If you're uncomfortable because someone is hurting, it may be because you want to fix it, and you don't know what to do.  Watch the link above, you may find something helpful.  Most importantly, don't try to fix people who are hurting, just hug them.

Kids give the best hugs...

                                                             Ashley at ten months old

Sharing my girls!

This March brought us to the four year mark since Ashley passed away, and in August it will be four years since we last held Hope as well.  As you may have noticed, I have not posted much, and it's for the best.  I don't have a lot of interest in sharing my grief journey, but when it comes to Ashley and Hope, I get really excited to share.  I am so grateful to anyone who asks me about them, or gives me an opportunity to talk about their lives.  An amazing opportunity to share my girls came up when I was asked to interview about our experience with Palliative Care in Manitoba.  CBC News did a wonderful job, and if you want to watch the interview, you can click on 'CBC Interview' under Common Interests, on the right hand side of the page.  You may have to wait a few seconds for the video to load.

It doesn't feel like much time has passed since I last held the girls, until I look at Mira and realize that she is starting school in the fall!   Wow, where has the time gone.  I know we all use that phrase, but really...where has it gone???

Time has not lessened the impact that Ashley and Hope had on our lives.   In fact, I would say we are more sensitive and aware of the extraordinary blessing that we were given.  When the girls were alive, I spent a lot of time trying to show people that our girls were valuable, just as they were.  They couldn't walk, talk, play, or smile on demand, but they were always ready to be held and cared for.  They were completely dependent on us.  In our 'throw away' society, it is easy for others to dismiss children like Ashley & Hope as a burden, and miss out on the tremendous opportunity to give of ourselves and learn to practice truly self-donating love. 

I am so convicted that every person is valuable at every moment of their life, and that we benefit greatly by participating the lives of others, especially those who can't meet our hopes and expectations.  Palliative care is that opportunity.  

Dear Ashley...

Dear Ashley, it has been three years, and it doesn't feel like it.  Your heaven day didn't sneak up on us... we knew it was coming... and despite a few tears I cherished the preparing.

Special pink flowers sent from a friend...a cake with pink icing...and slideshows that marked your life from beginning to end.

The sadness of preparing gave way to a joyful celebration of your life, Ashley.  And as we celebrated your life, we also celebrated all the life around us. Mira exclaimed with loud squeals of wonder and arms outstretched, that the leaves were so green when we wandered around the conservatory at Assiniboine park.  How much more, are you celebrating in heaven?  Are you dancing, and running and eating treats?  Are you singing the Alleluia like Mira does?  How full and perfect is your life, now in heaven?  What a blessing to celebrate life as we remember you, Ashley.  You blessed our lives in a profound way.  We love you Ashley.

Love,
Mommy

Blessings all around

The reminders of Ashley and Hope, alive in heaven, are everywhere.  In the butterflies, that remind us of the moments after Hope's burial when many butterflies took flight, and Brodie corrected us to say they were moths, promptly spouting some knowledge from school.  It was a lighter moment, thanks to Brodie.  In the pink and purple flowers we see in various places, especially at church.  In the tree that was planted at St. Timothy's in memory of the girls.  And especially in the rainbows that we see from time to time.  Mira is especially enchanted by rainbows.  She'll talk about a rainbow for a whole day and usually the next day too after she's witnessed one, and I love that she's had a little glimpse of beauty and promise. 

After Hope's funeral (it might have been the next evening), we were all sitting outside on the back deck, enjoying a rare quiet moment.  We watched as a rainbow appeared, and then a second, slightly fainter rainbow appeared below it.  It was an incredible moment of family togetherness as we knew are girls in heaven are still part of our family.  I still think of that moment, and of Ashley and Hope whenever I see a rainbow.

Flowers

Life continues around here, even though it still feels so recent that the girls were here with us.  Mira and Brodie are growing and learning so much, and this brings home the reality that time has passed.

We went to the gravesite in May to plant flowers and this is how we found it...

 

We were pleasantly surprised to find pink and purple flowers blessing our eyes.  We had waited for the ground to dry and it was time to plant.  Mira was excited to clean...

 

Brodie was excited to place the sunflowers...

 

And as we contemplated our little attempt to pretty up the gravesite...

 

We found laughter and joy, right along with our memories...

 

This is the first year we've planted flowers, and I don't mind that we waited for the stone to be in place.  I love seeing the photo's of our girls.  I love rememering their smiles and cuddles.  I love sharing them with the wonderful staff at St. Vital Cemetary.  We've been blessed by incredibly kind, and interested staff at the Cemetary.  It's nice to say 'hi', when we pass them in our work, and sometimes have a chat.  It's meaningful that they remember the funeral days and ask how we are doing.  My favorite moment was the morning when Mira and I went to water the flowers, and we sat at the foot of the gravesites, and enjoyed the sun, clouds and birds, while Mira sang her songs.  Blessings are everywhere.

 

Summer is here.  School is out.  And now we're getting ready for summer fun.  We'll celebrate Hopey's birthday this coming week, with six purple balloons.  Maybe I'll find it possible to finish Hope's babybook this year.  Maybe I should call it a 'Life Book' instead.  Yep, that's what I'm working on as I remember Hopey.  A beautiful book of Hopey's life.  That might bring on some tears...or maybe some more posts, as I've been avoiding the remembering a bit.

Pink Balloons

Today marks the 2 years since Ashley died.  Yesterday we remembered Ashley with her caregivers, Ashley J, Miranda and Lauren, who have become like family to us.  It felt so good to honor Ashley's memory.  We watched her video's and laughed at Brodie's two year old goofy ways, and finished it off by releasing eight pink balloons with our thoughts for Ashley.

 

Brodie asked to watch Ashley again, so I turned on the video camera, and this is what he and Mira are watching this morning...

 

This is Brodie at 2.5 years and Ashley around 5 months.  It's so interesting to think of me standing there taking pictures of my two kids cuddling on the couch together about eight years ago.

 

And today I'm standing here looking at my two kids cuddling on the couch again...

 

You can see Mira holding on to a pink balloon.  The one that she was supposed to release yesterday when we all let ours go.  But Mira let out a little yell of protest every time a balloon floated away.  We kept hearing, "oh no, oh no", but I didn't figure out what the problem was until I saw Mira clutching her ballon for dear life, and shaking her head, while she murmered, "no balloon, my balloon, no go". 

 

So here we are this morning, with our little Miracle holding on to Ashley's pink balloon as we watch

Ashley video's.  How beautiful is that. 

 

We have been so blessed.  I have been wanting to express this for a while now, but always fail to find the words.  I do have my sad days, but more often I am so awed at the blessing.  To have Ashley and Hope in our lives, to love them, to learn from them and to experience the highs and the lows...it is all a blessing.  Life is a gift, no matter what the circumstances.

 

 

 

 



8th Birthday

Happy Birthday Ashley!  You would have been eight years old today.  We'll celebrate with family today and remember your beautiful smiles, and precious cuddle moments.

I remember when I took this video of you in August of 2009.  You would have been four years old at the time.  You were enjoying a good spell with smiles, and some calm times, and milder seizures.  You were sitting in the kitchen enjoying some music with me, and I noticed your smiles and sat down to smile with you.  Your smiles got bigger and I thought...oh, maybe I should catch a little video.  It wasn't anything huge, just a normal moment in the day.  But I am so glad I took the time to catch that moment.  Ashley, this was one of those moments when you blessed us with a peaceful spirit and a softness that calms the soul.

 

 

 

Happy Birthday Ashley!

Simple things

I love remembering the simple things.  Mira sat at the counter the other day, playing with Brodie's lego, completely unaware of how cute she looked wearing her green sunglasses.  She was sticking lego men in the nice cranberry bread I had made!

 

She reminded me of another time when we had the Ashley and Hope gathered at the table to participate in snack time.  This picture makes me smile too!

How is it, that I am so blessed...



Giving is healing

Ashley and Hope taught me how to give.  I didn't always give with a willing spirit, and I wasn't always joyful but I can tell you what was beautiful.  The beautiful days were the ones when I accepted the work, put aside my own agenda, and gave myself over to loving.  The beautiful days happened when God gave me the grace to love Ashley and Hope without rushing to be done with the work involved with their care.  The beautiful days always involved giving, not getting.

I was reminded of this reality, when I listened to a speaker who shared her own journey of losing two children.  After the first funeral, she felt desperate to escape the debilitating feeling of pain, but was unsure of what to do.  When she read a suggestion that she seek out someone else who was in need and serve that person, she thought, 'ya, right'....but it worked.

I listened to her and a lightbulb went on for me.  I've experienced those days of sadness that were lightened by a choice to do something for someone else.  I've also experienced the sad days when I chose to have a nap, or a coffee break or read a book (distractions that have some value).  The interesting thing is that the distractions didn't serve me well.  They weren't bad, but they weren't fruitful either.  They were just distractions that gave me a 'break' from the sadness.  Giving, on the other hand, always led to a lighter feeling, sometimes even to joy.

I love that!  It makes so much sense to me, that I should use offer up my sadness to God, and serve him by blessing someone else.  I can count numerous memories when I have felt joy at giving.  I'm sure everyone can think of these moments in their lives.  Giving is part of healing.  We weren't meant to serve ourselves.

Thank you, Lord, for giving me the opportunity to serve, to love, and to give to these precious children. 



Thankful!!!

I am so thankful for little hands that tickle the piano keys, for a little voice that sings, for a little girl who is blissfully unaware of how amazed mommy is by everything she does!

Mira is two years old, and as you can see she blesses us with her singing often.

School memories

Before Ashley, I rarely thought about school and how well a child with special needs would fit in or be included.   I remember the first time we discussed what the future would look like and a health care professional mentioned school.  At the time, Ashley was six months old and seizing more than 100 times a day.  I laughed at the idea of school, brushed the idea aside and tried to move the discussion to more pertinent issues.  I was firmly told that EVERY child goes to school.  Well, I have to admit that I wasn't too impressed by the implication that I had no say in the matter.

I had no plans to send Ashley to school, unless it was clear that it would be good for her.  She was looking better at four and half years old, and actually needing more stimulation.  I started thinking that school might be a good thing.  Our physiotherapist and occupational therapist encouraged us with stories of other special needs children who blossomed in the school system.  I could see that Ashley was positively stimulated by other kids and eventually we agreed that 'yes' school would be a good thing.  I had no idea what a blessing it would be.

I am sharing this because I know of a family who has a child with special needs, who was denied admission to a large christian school here in Winnipeg.  Their older son was already in attendance at the school.  Of course it is not a problem for a school to reject an applicant for a good reason.  It would be completely justified and understandable if the school stated that it did not have the resources or proper facility to provide for the special needs of a child.

What I don't understand is why the parents would be subjected to, what sounds like, a harsh and cruel attitude when discussing their daughter.  Why would a Principal say that it would not be good for the older son to have his sister in the same school?  Especially when the son was so excited to have his sister at school.  He had a picture of her in his locker, and was eager to share his experiences with her when he got home.  Why would a Principal go on to say that older students would not benefit from volunteering with the special needs child, and worse, that they have better places to spend there time?

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that there are still people who see a child with special needs and only see the burden, the disability and the problems.  But I cried when I heard this because my greatest yearning was for others to see the value in my special girls.  My heart broke for the parents as I imagined what it would feel like to hear your child rejected because of their disability.  To be told, to your face that your child wasn't worthy or valued.  To be told that your child is a burden that no one would benefit learning from.

So, here I am to tell you of my experience with Ashley going to school.  Ashley was wonderfully recieved by the entire faculty and the students at Chancellor school.  We were pleasantly surprised at the positive attitude of every staff member that we worked with.  We really felt that Ashley's presence was valued and highly anticipated.  I did not expect such a high level of acceptance, and something else occurred that I didn't expect.  Ashley was loved.

It brings tears to my eyes as I remember the day that I realized Ashley had become part of her own little community, full of beautiful children and teachers who truly loved and accepted her.  It was the day we returned to Ashley's class to remember her life and we were joined by some students, mom's, and teachers.  They had a slideshow of pictures and as the photo's rolled by, my eyes were opened to Ashley's world at school.  Children reading to Ashley, holding her hand, and taking turns pushing her wheelchair.  Ashley in the arms of her EA during music time and circle time.  Ashley sharing her favorite book, 'The Little Engine Who Could', with the children gathered around paying close attention. 

Most striking were the multiple photos of one little girl, who was showed up often at Ashley's side.  Ashley had a best friend.  I didn't find this out until I met Taylor's mom at the remembrance.  Taylor's mom had heard a lot about Ashley, and what the girls played with and where they sat, but she did not know that Ashley was in a wheelchair until she saw the school photo of the kindergarten class.  Taylor had never mentioned Ashley's disabilities.  Taylor loved Ashley just the way she was.  That is the beauty of children.

That is the blessing of a having a child with special needs in the classroom.  Children are very accepting of differences, especially when their teachers model that acceptance.  Without even knowing it, children develop compassion and understanding for the differences in others and it becomes a non-issue.

 
Taylor still has 'Ashley's pink bear' that we gave her, and the photo of the two of them in her room.  I met Taylor and her mom at Brodie's hockey practice the other weekend and was pleasantly surprised that they remembered Ashley.  What a special gift.

Memorial Stone

Larsen's did a wonderful job of Ashley and Hope's memorial stone.  This is the photo they sent us before it was installed at St. Vital Cemetary.  Next year, I look forward to planting some pink and purple flowers under the stone.  Right now I still have the yellow sunflowers marking the spot, along with this stone.  So, it's easy to find if anyone finds themselves wishing to visit. 

Avoidance

The anniversary of Hope's death, holds the significance of being an 'ending'.  I am finding that I grieve the loss of both my girls and everything that came with them at this point.

On Aug. 14th I wrote in my journal:

Today is Hope's heaven day.  It has been one year since she died.  Today marks the day when our journey with our special girls ended.

Today I grieve the loss of both my girls; cuddles on the front step during a coffee break; walks to the park so we could lie down on a blanket and watch the leaves dance on the trees; tea parties with Brodie; saturday morning baths and hair do's; a soft cheek next to mine as I hum a song.

Today I grieve the loss of our daily companions, our respite workers who helped, nourished and strengthened us without even knowing it.

Today I grieve the loss of 7am medication prep, diaper changes and fluctuating schedules...a 'busy'ness that gave me purpose and direction as I pushed away any 'sad' feelings.

Today marks the day when our lives changed with a certain finality.  I still wonder at this change.  Although I am living the new normal, it feels odd that life just continues.  It should be easier, but somehow it is really hard.


It's interesting that I've felt fairly good about how this year has gone, and then suddenly I was hit by the loss.  Reading about Hayden's death (the link to his blog is on the side), I find myself identifying with everything that Lauren is writing.  I find myself remembering and hurting...a lot.  And I realize that I have done a good job of avoiding the sad feelings, avoiding thoughts of the girls, avoiding the cemetary and avoiding this blog.

Of course, I had my moments where I allowed myself to think, to feel and remember.  The obvious moments were easy (birthdays and anniversaries), and allowable, but they slowed me down.  A visit to the cemetary would depress my energy level so much that I would struggle for a few days, with a physical and mental exhaustion that always surprised me.  I didn't think about it much, I just tried to get through it without getting frustrated.  Because I didn't think about it, and acknowledge what was happening, I instinctively avoided the cemetary.

The same thing happened with this blog.  To sit down and write about this process, left me open to all my sadness and hurt.  I felt too busy to be burdened by such overwhelming feelings of exhaustion, so I avoided the blog more often.  Of course, I still had posts, but many of the things I would have posted remained in my head.

I kept myself busy at home, distracted with kids, work and books, and it worked for me.  I'm not saying that this was wrong.  I'm not saying that I never allowed sad moments.  But I am surprised to see that I have avoided a lot of the sad feelings, when I thought I was doing okay with them.  There is no right or wrong in grieving...it just is what it is.

I'm reflecting on this, because I've had a hard week.  My struggle this week has been  incredibly intense, and I wonder if it's because the one year anniversary has left me with a whole lot of emotion.  Emotion that I have been avoiding.

I'm sitting myself down to reflect and re-evaluate.  So far I've had to remind myself of these truths:

1. Death hurts and it is natural to feel heart-broken
2. It's okay that no one but God knows how I truly feel
3. Friends who listen without trying to fix are valuable
4. My own grief journey is unique and I don't have to meet anyone's expectations
5. I am perfectly loved and accepted right now and always by my God who understands everything.
6. Sad feelings, tears, moving slower and a messy house does not mean I am falling apart

I probably have a lot more to learn, but don't concern yourself with that.  I am writing because it helps me a lot.  I am also writing because someone might find something useful in what I am sharing.  My loss might be unique, but perhaps you can identify with some aspect of my process.  It is when we share our struggles, that we find support.

We are blessed that it is not all a struggle.  We remember Hope wearing this beautiful dress from her Grandma, at Easter, 2009.

 

Mira wore that same dress to a wedding this summer.  Watching that dress dance and twirl around Mira gave me incredible joy as I thought of Ashley and Hope dancing in heaven.

Hope's Day

One year ago today, we held Hope for the last time.  Her hair was braided, she was wearing her beautiful, handmade, dress that reminded me of a rainbow.  We wrapped her in her special blanket and wondered how we could let her go.  And then we watched as the long, black vehicle slowly drove away down our street.  Even now, I get tears in my eyes when I see a funeral car.

We are so grateful to the show of support at Hope's funeral, and for the meals and cards and emails and donations.  Thank you to everyone.

We just cried a few tears as we watched Hope's funeral slideshow, and now we're heading over to the cemetary as a family.  The memorial stone isn't there yet, but will be in about a month.  I hope you're able to watch the slideshow and remember our beautiful Hopey with us.

Love,
Jolene & Alex

Happy Birthday Hopey!

Five years ago, we held your beautiful, tiny, newborn body in our arms. 

And then something wonderful happened.  You started smiling at 3 weeks old.  You seemed to smile right at me.



Soon, your smiles and coo's had us marvelling at you in wonder.  You could move your arms and wave them around.  You could drink your bottle and bounce yourself out of your chair. 



At one year old, you were still doing well.  Seizures were not an issue, and you could eat from a spoon.  You were always hungry!  We had to have your meat, veggies, fruit and two bottles, lined up and ready to go when you woke up from your nap, because you would scream your displeasure if the food didn't come fast enough.  Oooh, you were sooo cute!!!



We were taken by surprise, when you were found seizing one morning.  You were 14 months old, and the seizures didn't stop, until...after many emergency meds, you stopped breathing, and the team in ER kept you alive with an oxygen mask, attached to a bag that could force air into your lungs.  I will never forget how your dad and I stood together and prayed for you, hoping that we would not be the ones to decide if it was your time to go.  You started breathing on your own after 40 minutes.

We took you home at the end of the week, with you still having periods of apnea, not sure if you would survive more than a couple days.  You stayed with us, but the seizures ruled the house, and you didn't eat anymore.  Eventually the smiles were gone, and with numerous new medications, you became our limp baby doll.  It was time for a different type of care, and different expectations, and a feeding tube. 

I am so grateful for the added years.  I remember holding you and wishing for big smiles to return, on your second birthday (and being grateful for the soft, subtle smiles that you blessed us with). 



Eventually your smiles came back, and here you are at three years old.





And now we look at last years birthday pics...four years old.  We wonder how it is possible that a year has passed, but your memory is as fresh as if you were here in our arms yesterday.



Last week, you would have been five years old.  We remembered you as we watched your slideshow, and let five purple balloons go into the sky.



As I recall your life and Ashley's life, I feel so fortunate to have been blessed by you both.  It's hard to describe how a life that sounds 'tragic' to some, can be so beautiful to remember.  I know I struggled at times, but it's only because of my struggle that I can see God's hand at work through it all.  Your life was a gift that shaped me in a way that is good for my soul.  My struggle through the emotions, the work and the rollercoaster of illnesses, made it possible for me to see my weakness and therefore, see God's strength.

As I worked through my feelings of anger, loneliness, and sadness this year, I slowly became more aware of this fact...I would not wish you or Ashley away.  I would not exchange you for a more 'perfect' child.   Every child is a blessing, whether we choose to see it or not. 

I love you, Hopey.  Happy Birthday!



Pray a thank you

I came across this photo of Hopey, taken in December of 2008.  I paused because Mira is now wearing that same sleeper and often has the same little pigtails.  It's felt a little confusing to look at Hopey laying there in my arms, trying to take a bottle, and then look at Mira wearing the princess sleeper, but she's running around and saying words.

I look at Hopey in this picture and remember, but it is strange to be remembering, when it feels like yesterday.  Ashley and Hope aren't here, but they don't feel far away.  I miss them each day, but I don't think of them every moment.  I'm grieving inside but I'm functioning and joyful on the outside.

Life is full of contradictions.

This next photo reminds me of all the photos I have of Brodie cuddling Ashley or Hope.  How many times a day do we marvel and wonder at the blessing of Mira and Brodie in our lives?  It is ongoing...

And at the same time, we wonder at the blessings of having had Ashley and Hope in our lives.  How would we have appreciated the deep joy of two healthy children, without the experience of our journey with Ashley and Hope? 

Mira puts her warm, chubby arms around my neck and squeezes tight

and I pray a thank you

Mira sings out her joy in church with no thought for those who might want to hear the homily

and I pray a thank you

Mira runs at Brodie with her arms open wide, tackling him with her hug

and I pray a thank you

Brodie reminds me that we should help Mira know the girls, by making her a special book

and I pray a thank you

Brodie takes Mira by the hand and lovingly shows her the butterfly's that symbolize life

and I cry a little as I pray a thank you.



A glimpse

All day long, I have glimpses of Ashley and Hope as our screensaver rolls cycles through our photo files.  Glimpses of different parts of the journey, bring memories, smiles and sometimes tears.  It keeps me connected to their memory in the midst of the busy demands of life.  It slows me down and reminds me of the importance of loving...right now in each moment.

It's interesting that Mira does not remind me of Ashley, or of Hope.  When she was younger, I definitely saw bits of Hope in her, but not anymore.  Mira has her own look.  She does everything that the girls did not do, and I still feel that 'Wow' feeling in response.

I had wondered if the screensaver photos would someday cause me pain, knowing that there would be no new pics of Ashley and Hope.  I wondered how I would look at those same pictures, year after year, with nothing new to add to them.  I wondered how it was even possible that I would never take another picture of Ashley and Hope.

As the months went by, I eventually noticed something.  I did not have new pictures of Ashley and Hope, but my screensaver was not becoming a stagnant pool of old memories.  The old memories were being enhanced and built upon by new photos of Brodie and Mira.  The old photos ran right along side the new photos, and suddenly I saw that Mira's growth and development would help me keep moving forward.

A picture of Ashley... a picture of Hope... a picture of Mira walking, playing with a doll and showing us so much more.  Little bits of sad remembering balanced by joyful hope in the future.  What a blessing.

One Year

I have not found myself marking the months consistently but the one year mark is screaming at me for attention.  Tommorrow, it will be one year since Ashley took her last breath in our arms.  How is it possible that we have watched one child pass away from us, and then another...

Knowing that this day was coming, I have been posting more about Ashley.  Sensing that this weekend will be hard, I've been doing a lot of thinking.   How do we commemorate the day, and how do we make the day special?  I had heard some wisdom that it is best to go away for the first anniversary, so we had planned a trip.  Well, the flu hit our house last Saturday, and one by one we have each gotten sick.  Mira was puking most of Saturday night.  After a couple hours of puking she had nothing left in her stomach and she would just roll over and heave in my arms.  She reminded me SO MUCH of Hope in that moment.  Alex got sick while he was away on a work trip (poor guy) and I got sick next.  Today, Brodie started puking.  So...no travelling.  Sound familiar?

It's kind of appropriate actually.  Our life with Ashley and Hope involved a lot of hands on care, holding and cleaning up.  We made our life at home as simple as possible (as the girls became sicker especially) and avoided a lot of activities so that we could take care of them better and minimize stress.  And here we find ourselves again, as we remember Ashley.  Instead of a trip out to Elkhorn, we are staying home to do what's best for our family and that feels right.

We'll still remember Ashley and look at her baby book, as well as her slideshows.  Tommorrow we'll be able to go to the cemetary if Brodie is feeling well enough and maybe even sit there for a picnic.  We'll sing Ashley and Hope the songs we used to sing to them, and know that they are singing with us now.  Tommorrow is Ashley's heaven birthday.  We'll celebrate the six years we were given to love and hold our special girl.

Forever we will love you Ashley!

Sadness

Sadness is something that I have avoided for years.  I was determined to keep sadness away because I did not want to slide down that slippery slope that would leave me depressed.  Sadness and anger went 'hand-in-hand' for me.  For my sad days, I had a list of strategies to help me through, so that I wouldn't feel hopeless.  Things such as quiet time with God, encouraging music, walks outside, healthy food, extra water, scripture and prayer time would be on my list.  Unfortunately, I found these strategies rather unappealing when I woke up with the burdensome feeling of sadness.  I often ditched the list in favor of shopping, eating out, coffee breaks or a book, which never helped and often left me feeling worse (wasted time really bothers me).  Over time, I learned from my experience and more often chose the 'good' strategies to help me get through the sad days.  What I remember most was a strong determination to 'get over' the sadness and not let it 'win'.

I acknowledged my sadness as being related to my girls' delining health and the increasing work load, but I didn't like this fact.  My girls' were special, a source of blessing and worth cherishing.  I did not want to see them as a source of sadness, and I certainly didn't want anyone else to have that view.  So, sadness became the enemy that I fought against.

Now, it is different.  I am allowed to be sad.  What a strange thing.

With the passing of Ashley and Hope, I somehow have permission to be sad without diminishing the value of my special girls.  So, this is new for me, and I'm trying to figure it out.  The sadness that I am feeling is a light, generalized feeling that kind of floats up and down around me in varying degrees of intensity.  It doesn't stop me from moving through my day, or loving my children or accomplishing the tasks that are set before me.  It's just a subtle awareness of my altered life which leaves me feeling fragile and tender.

When I acknowledge this sadness, I move a little slower and find myself gently reminded to give thanks for the blessings around me.  This is how I know that God is at work and I am not alone.  When I don't acknowledge it, I fall into the familiar cycle of fighting the sadness.  

This sadness is not scary for some reason, and it makes sense.  To name what I'm feeling is a really good starting point.  To trust God to walk me through that feeling, brings me to acceptance which is quickly followed by peace. 

What a remarkable thing!   So simple and yet I would not have been open to learning this lesson earlier.  I was just so focused on getting through each day.  I can't help but think that I (and my family) would have benefited from my learning this lesson sooner, but I'll accept the lesson now and endeavor to put it to good use.