I will not forget you...

But Zion said, "The LORD has forsaken me,
       the Lord has forgotten me."
 "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
       and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
       Though she may forget,
       I will not forget you!
 See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;
       your walls are ever before me.
Isaiah 49:14-16

This passage was like water to my soul when we lost our babies.  It struck me in a new way when we brought David home and I adjusted to life with a nursing baby.  Suddenly even getting to the grocery store was complicated.  I had to plan my day with his needs in mind.  I couldn't be separated from him for more than two or three hours without significant planning.  In fact, as a nursing mother, it was physically painful to be away from him for more than a few hours.  Physically, I could not forget him.

A few months ago I wrote down everything I did for Rand in a day to more fully appreciate these words.

6:20  Feed and change Rand
6:40  Hold Rand
6:55  Put Rand on floor with toys
7:07  Hold Rand and do chores
7:15  Put Rand down to play
7:25  Fix Rand breaksfast
7:40  Put Rand in exersaucer
8:00 Hold Rand
8:15  Put Rand down for a nap
11:00 Feed Rand
11:15 Change Rand's diaper
11:20 Load Rand in car seat
11:45 Carry Rand in ergo for grocery store
12:40 Load Rand in car seat
1:00  Hold Rand
1:15 Rand in exersaucer
1:25 Hold Rand
1:35 Rock Rand and put him down for nap
3:30 Nurse Rand
3:45 Change Rand's diaper
3:50 Load Rand in car seat
4:00 Put Rand in exersaucer
4:30 Hold Rand
4:40 Put Rand in baby ergo for chores
5:20 Put Rand in car seat for errands
6:30 Nurse Rand
6:45 Fix Rand's dinner
6:50 Feed Rand dinner
7:10 Nurse Rand
7:20 Change Rand's diaper
7:25 Rock Rand and put him to bed

"Though she may forget, I will not forget you!"

Nastiness pureed and regurgitated...

Two years ago I made brussel sprouts for dinner.  They were disgusting.  Really.  They were soggy little balls of nastiness.  The wastefulness of edible, thrown-out food, especially if I had to prepare it, really irritates me. I just couldn't hold the usual "Clean your plate before you get any more food" line this time.  They were so gross.  We all threw them away.  Fast forward two years.  The boys saw brussel sprouts in the produce aisle, and the little green balls captured their imaginations.  How can you tell your kids "No, we can't get brussel sprouts.  They're gross."  I think that gets you some kind of mommy demerit.  Plus last time they were frozen.  Maybe fresh brussel sprouts are completely different.

So we bought them.  I took the first bite.  Initially it tasted like cabbage with a little pop of salt and pepper.  I had just enough time to briefly meditate on what an awesome mom I am for raising kids who will eat brussel sprouts and mentally draw up a plan for buying brussel sprouts every other week for my extremely healthy family.  Then the aftertaste got me like a dog who walks by nonchalantly and then turns and bites you on the ankle for no reason, and I realized that brussel sprouts are always, always gross.

The cheapskate in me decided to puree them and foist them off on the defenseless baby, and now I know that there is something grosser than brussel sprouts - pureed brussel sprouts.  (He loved them - flapped his little arms and legs begging for more.)  Thirty minutes later I discovered that it gets grosser still - pureed brussel sprout spit-up.

Miss Summer, God loves you...

Yesterday was good for me.  I feel refreshed.  I need that day to focus on grieving for Caleb and Ellie and to remember the way God has provided for me.  John says that July 8 is like the bitter herbs of Passover.  

I read through all the cards, letters and emails from that time.  Some were well spoken and heartfelt.  Some were awkward and heartfelt.  There were pictures from children and notes in the shaky handwriting of the elderly.  It was and is balm for my wounded soul.  It reminds me of the way God cared for us through His people.

In the cards from children, there were three themes:  God loves Miss Summer, God loves Caleb and Ellie, and I love you.  When I was in the deepest pit of grief, that is exactly what I heard from God:  I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Missing him...

My first son, Caleb, was born and died ten years ago today. Ten years - that's hard to believe. We didn't know if we would have another child and have since been blessed with four. That makes me smile every time I think about it. God has been open-handed with me.

But I still miss my son. It isn't constant as it was in those early days, but there are times when the longing for him is physically painful. It feels like the air has been removed from my chest, and the reality that my son is not with me overwhelms me.

I miss him.
Photo embroidery by my good friend crewelwhorled.