Four Months

My brother sent me these pictures of the kids earlier in the week. They were taken outside the hospital as we all sat outside together on June 29th, waiting for the medications I had been given to induce labor to take effect (when you are facing infant loss, you get different privileges, like being allowed to sit outside in the fresh air during your induction).

These pictures strike an interesting chord with me. They are actually some really great photos of our kids. However, looking at them is, for obvious reasons, heartbreaking. In a way, these pictures show my children with an innocence that would no longer exist just 12 hours later...when they were brought into the hospital room to hold their baby brother who had already left this earth.

The picture of the two of them sitting on the picnic table is interesting to me. As Connor looks upward, Kylee looks more toward the ground. I feel this is an interesting parallel to the journey we have been on since losing Caden four months ago. Desperately looking towards heaven for comfort, and at the same time, feeling the weight of the situation dragging us down. As you look at this picture, you can see the peace in both of the kids' faces. Amazing.

This month has been a tough one. I said goodbye to my Grandpa on October 2nd. I have since been struggling to wrap my mind around the last two years...why on earth God would ask me to say so many good-byes to people that I love the most. I haven't found an answer to that one yet. I am struggling daily to feel His peace. Some days are better than others. The image of my Grandparents, my Mom, and my son all together in heaven is a beautiful one, but also one that evokes a certain amount of jealousy and sadness in me. Someday I will join them, but for now, I am blessed to be here amongst my family and friends on Earth.

I wonder what Caden's legacy will be. I have a sense that He was sent to us as a part of something bigger...and we are searching for what that legacy is. As I reflect on our experience, it seems a bit surreal that we went through such a long and painful process. In some ways, the pain is so fresh it feels like yesterday. On other days, it seems like it has been 4 years instead of 4 months. The newness of the grief is wearing off a bit, and in its place is a sort of grief that is almost more difficult to bear. It is the grief that occurs when you realize that your arms are empty, that right now, Caden would be 4 months old...receiving his second round of immunizations and learning to play with baby toys....the shock wears off and in its place is different pain.

I miss our baby. Connor opted to share about Caden on his show-and-tell day at school earlier this month. He took Carl, his Build-A-Bear that was created in memory of Caden, and a picture of him holding Caden to show his classmates. They asked great questions, and our oldest son fielded them like a champ. It was the first thing out of his mouth when he found out it would be his turn to share..."I want to tell them about Caden". I was able to be there when he shared, and it was incredible. Kylee asks, on occasion, to watch Caden's DVD. Sometimes I try to talk her out of it because I know it upsets her, but she is insistent on seeing her baby brother. We hold her and watch the images flash up on the screen. She now has her favorite pictures and her favorite songs on the DVD. She gets a Kleenex and settles in for a good cry. We shed some tears together (she often uses her own Kleenex to wipe Mommy's cheeks, too), trade hugs, and then she goes on with her playtime. Our kids teach us so much about life....and I am so blessed that they want Caden to continue to be a part of our daily lives. Sometimes we need to share him with someone who didn't previously know of his existence....and sometimes, we need to take a quiet moment to look at him and just cry because we miss him so much. It's all a part of healing.

I ask for your prayers as the holidays approach. When we found out we were pregnant, one of the first things we dreamt about was having three kids with us at Christmas. I know that this season will be hard as I mourn the loss of both Caden and my Grandpa. I pray for joy in the midst of sorrow. Hearing the Christmas story this year will hold a new meaning...Mary anticipating the birth of a son whom she would later watch on the Cross. While I would never pretend that I could even comprehend that moment in Mary's life....the death of her son....in some ways, I feel that we were called to make a similar sacrifice.

To our Caden...you are so deeply, deeply loved and treasured. Your presence in our family is not diminished because you are not here. We carry you with us each and every day...in our hearts and in our souls. We look forward to being reunited with you in heaven...when we can hold you, touch you, smell you, kiss you...get to know you outside the womb.

Thanks for being our precious angel.

A Different Kind of Healing...

Good Evening!

This last week has been full of fun for our family. I have been perusing petfinder.com over the last several weeks, sometimes out of a strong desire to adopt a puppy, other times just because looking at four footed little ones is fun. Last week, I stumbled across a litter of shepherd/lab/retriever mix puppies that happened to be right here in Liberty at the local animal shelter. Uh-oh.

With Brandon's blessing, I showed pictures of the puppies, who had been dumped on the roadside, to the kids. They decided they'd like to go and meet the puppies (big surprise). I talked with them about the responsibilties a puppy brings along with it (I could almost hear my parents delivering the same speech to me when I was a kid), and they both decided they were open to the challenge. Last Tuesday, the kids and I went and looked at the litter. There were five there...two yellow males, one yellow female, and two black and tan females. One of them, in particular, caught our eye. That very evening, we adopted and named Buster, an 8 week old male lab mix. He came home with us on Wednesday afternoon.

The next two nights quickly reminded us why we had originally decided not to get a puppy. Buster whined, scratched, and whimpered in his crate. However, the loud noises and lack of sleep at night was easily made up for by watching the joy in Connor and Kylee's faces as they played with Buster. Wicket, our eight year old mutt, although slightly less enthusiastic about the new addition, has handled it well.

Over the last several evenings, Buster has come to be okay with being in his crate, and is coming out of his shell (which means chewing on everything in sight). He seems quite happy here. It is nice to have something vibrant, cuddly, and adorable in the house for the kids to play with. Now, if only we could convince him to go to the bathroom outside all the time....but really, training a puppy seems a little easier after potty training two children.

It feels good to do something that allows us to move forward. We had put off doing something like this, believing that we just didn't have the time or energy to invest in it. I personally came to the point at which I decided I was tired of waiting...and was tired of asking our kids to wait...for something to bring a new sort of joy into our lives.

We are glad Buster is here.

Grandpa

Hello.

Just wanted to take a few minutes this evening to give you an update on my Grandpa. As you may recall, I had posted about him back in January when he suffered two strokes. It has been a very long 8 months for our family as we have sought the best possible treatment for him, both in Kansas City and in Great Bend.

My Uncle Craig made the decision about a week ago to move Grandpa to a Hospice Center in Salina, KS (www.hospiceofsalina.org). The place is beautiful and the care that Grandpa has received there has been nothing short of incredible. Craig moved Grandpa there with the intention of stopping his tube feedings, believing that continuing them was a violation of Grandpa's living will (he was receiving the feedings 16 hours a day as a sole source of nourishment due to being unable to swallow following the stroke). This was a decision that could be considered highly controversial by some, but Grandpa had always been very clear about NOT wanting to live the kind of life he was living following the stroke. We had hoped that therapy might help him rehabilitate, but results from therapy weren't what we had prayed for. Given all this, Craig approached us about discontinuing Grandpa's tube feedings at the end of October.

I was torn about discontinuing the feedings...knowing that Grandpa wouldn't have wanted them, yet at the same time, not wanting to play God. God heard our prayers...and while the answer was not easy to take, it is an answer we are grateful for. Over the weekend, while still receiving his tube feedings, Grandpa started having some difficulties breathing. On Monday, Grandpa slowly slipped into an unconscious state and has become less and less responsive. We got a call yesterday, and Sarah, Jordan, and I were told to come right away...Grandpa was fighting to breathe and his nurses didn't believe he had much time left. We drove to Salina last evening and spent the night at Grandpa's bedside. We spent the morning there and left in the early afternoon after taking some precious moments to tell our amazing Grandpa "goodbye". It hurts to see him go, but we know he is ready to shed his current body and be restored in heaven.

Grandpa is being medicated and kept comfortable. It looks like he wanted to do things on his own terms. Pretty typical of this strong man. Doctors predict that today was his last day on earth, but as a former oncology nurse, I know how hard it is to guess how much time someone has left on this planet. We shall see. I am back home, checking in frequently via phone.

As I laid beside Grandpa in bed today, I realized that by being with him in that moment, I was incredibly close to heaven...specifically close to my Mom, and, of course, Caden. Grandpa is going to be seeing them shortly. I asked him to greet my mother and son for me when he arrives at the gates. I have a feeling they are already calling to him, appearing above him, preparing to welcome him Home.

We will keep you posted.