Gifts From Gavin

Toy Drive 2011

2011-11-01T11:28:00.000-07:00

We received $200 in monetary donations, and approx 25 toys donated to our Gifts From Gavin Toy Drive this year! I just finished our order from the Charity Mattel catalog and we were able to get so many toys...8 baby rattles, 8 ring stacks, 4 block sets, 2 shape sorters, 2 baby dolls, 6 mini magna doodles, 3 Dora microphones, 6 Disney princess Barbies, 14 Disney Princess play sets, 6 Batman action figures, and 36 matchbox cars! That's 95 toys!!!! So we collected 120 toys total!!! AMAZING!!! I tried to divide the resources evenly between baby toys, and girl and boy toys. I'm SO excited for the toys to get here so we can take them to the hospital! Its going to be awesome.

Thank you, thank you, thank you SO much for your donations! This is so very special to our family to be able to help the kids at the hospital, and to honor Gavin's life at the same time. I will post pictures of the toys in the next week or so!

Toys 2010

2010-11-01T08:43:00.005-07:00

Can you spot your toy??

The cardboard box Evienne is holding is the portable dvd player we ordered with the cash donated.

We printed these labels to stick on all the toys.

Sarah helped us bring the toys in...she was Gavin's nurse a couple of times and remembered us.

Thank you so much for all your donations! It was really special for our family to be able to give them to the Children's Hospital. They will help the babies and kids there SO much!

Gavin's 3rd Birthday

2010-11-01T08:30:00.003-07:00

Our Cub Scouts planting Gavin's tree!

They did such a good job...they even dug the hole all by themselves!

Yummy cookies...

...and milk!

Halfway to hitting our goal of signing up 15 people to be registered organ donors.

Everyone who signed up got a green awareness ribbon for Organ Donation.

We hit our goal!!!
All of our Cub Scouts earned their Donor Awareness Patch! :)

All the toys donated!

Gavin's tree with yellow ribbons of remembrance tied on by our family & friends. It is a Flowering Pear and should be covered in white flowers in the Spring.

Thank you to everyone who came to Gavin's Party. It means so much to us. We only have one day a year now to celebrate our little man's life. Sometimes it feels like he was only here for such a short time that no one will remember him. So this is our way of saying he was here, he lived, he mattered and we love him and miss him still.

Donating Toys on Monday!

2010-10-22T14:13:00.001-07:00

The portable dvd player we ordered online (from the cash donations) came in the mail today...so we'll take it and all the toys donated at Gavin's Party to the Children's Hospital on Monday. (thank goodness, because I'm tired of policing them from Olivia!)

If you didn't get a chance before, you can still drop off a toy donation this weekend! Just stop by whenever!

Even just one little baby rattle can make a WORLD of difference to a little child and their family that is stuck in the hospital for a long period of time. We used to anxiously await the Child Life Specialist's visit to Gavin's room so we could pick out a new toy for him to play with.

Its especially hard for babies and toddlers because they are stuck in their crib all day and all night. (you don't exactly want them playing on the FLOOR! ugh!) If they have anything contagious, they aren't even allowed to go to the playroom. And worst of all, most of the time you can't even go outside, either because its too hot, there isn't a child play area, or you don't have permission from the doctors.

We spent a whole week stuck in a tiny hospital room with Gavin one time...it was really hard. All he could do was watch dvds or play in his crib. (That's why wagon rides were the BEST- he could actually leave the room!!!) But unfortunately, most of the babies at the hospital don't have parents with them all day and night, so they are just alone in a scary, new place. The nurses can't be with them all the time, so they have to just leave them in their rooms crying. We would hear little ones crying all day and all night and calling for their Mommy and Daddy, and it just broke my heart.

So if you're able, we'd love to take your toy donation to the hospital when we go! :)

2nd Annual Gifts From Gavin Toy Drive

2010-09-28T20:11:00.010-07:00

It would be Gavin's 3rd Birthday on October 6th, and we're doing another toy drive for Banner Desert Children's Hospital to honor him! We're also going to plant a beautiful tree in our front yard in his memory. We'd love to have you celebrate his life with us!

Stop by for a few minutes, drop off a {new} toy for the hospital, tie a ribbon of remembrance on his tree, and eat birthday cookies & milk! We'd love to see you...even if you only 'know' us through our blog, or through a friend of a friend of a friend! Being able to help others is the ONE thing that makes his loss a little easier for us to bear, so we hope we'll be able to donate LOTS of toys to the kids at the hospital where we spent so much time with our little man!

Wish List for Children's Hospital:

(new in packages & unwrapped, please!)

toys for ages infant-5 years
board books
white noise machines
crib mobiles & music players
bouncy seats
portable dvd players
preschool age computer games
a cash jar will be available, too (to be used towards a portable dvd player(s)!)

We've had some Out-of-State friends ask how to participate, you can order a toy online and have it shipped directly to our home (our new address is on the invite above!), or donate cash through paypal using Andre or Bethany's personal e-mail! (funds will be used to buy a portable dvd player(s) for the hospital!)

Another neat thing we are doing is having our neighborhood cub scouts participate in the event. I happen to be a Den Mom to the Wolf & Bear Cub Scouts (including my son, Joenick!) and I thought it would be special for him and his buddies to help out. So they are going to try to earn their Donor Awareness Patch by having a booth for people to sign-up to be registered donors. Each boy needs to sign one person up, so if you've never gotten around to it, they'd appreciate it if you could help them earn their patch! This is what it looks like...pretty cool, huh?

We've only ever had a couple people sign up when we've had register forms out in the past, and we have 11 cub scouts (!) so I hope we have enough people sign up for each boy! If you only have the sticker on your driver's license, but have never formally registered through the Donate Life Network for your state, you'll still count! (Out-of-State people can help, too...just register through the website above & let me know so I can add you to our tally!) Thank you!

Here's some more information:

2 years

2010-09-22T09:34:00.001-07:00

2 years gone.

If Gavin had only gone on a church mission, he'd be coming home today.

I'd be holding him today.

I'm immensely jealous of all those who've had that reunion with their children. I don't get letters, e-mails, phone calls, or pictures. And he's not coming home. Ever. There won't be a homecoming for us...at least not in this life. And so it may as well be never.

In all honesty, today hasn't been so bad (comparatively). Just one more year in a long, long life of years to come. One more notch in my stick. One more blink of an eye. One more long sigh. One more day of tears and longing.

It won't be the last, so there's no sense in giving it all I've got. There are plenty of years ahead of me to perfect my sorrow.

I miss you, baby.

"I Miss You" by Avril Lavigne

I miss you
Miss you so bad
I don't forget you
Oh it's so sad

I hope you can hear me
I remember it clearly

The day you slipped away
Was the day I found
It won't be the same

I didn't get around to kiss you
Goodbye on the hand
I wish that I could see you again
I know that I can't
I hope you can hear me
Cause I remember it clearly

The day you slipped away
Was the day I found
It won't be the same

I've had my wake up
Won't you wake up
I keep asking why
And I can't take it
It wasn't fake, it
It happened you passed by

Now you're gone
Now you're gone
There you go
There you go
Somewhere I can't bring you back
Now you're gone
Now you're gone
There you go
There you go
Somewhere you're not coming back

The day you slipped away
Was the day I found
It won't be the same

The day you slipped away
Was the day I found
It won't be the same

I miss you

September

2010-09-08T14:49:00.001-07:00

September sucks.

I didn't think this year would be so hard. The last few months have been so good. I've been happy.

HAPPY.

I never would've believed I could feel that way. So I thought, its getting easier, its going to be fine from here on out. How soon you forget about the tidal waves...

I didn't even realize how close the anniversary of his death was until a few weeks ago. I kept thinking 'its been a year and a half" and then all of sudden it was just a month away. Since then, the storm clouds have been rolling in. I feel anxious and weighted down. Its nauseating. No matter how I try to ignore it, I can feel the pressure increasing. Its like even if I don't realize it, my soul does.

That part of my life feels like a dream now. Everything is fuzzy around the edges. I try to hold on to it, but its sand through my fingers. Sometimes this makes it easier to bear...sometimes its just really depressing. I want all of him to remain crystal clear, but with that comes the sharp, glass edge of pain.

"Wake Me Up When September Ends"

Summer has come and passed
The innocent can never last
wake me up when September ends

like my fathers come to pass
seven years has gone so fast
wake me up when September ends

here comes the rain again
falling from the stars
drenched in my pain again
becoming who we are

as my memory rests
but never forgets what I lost
wake me up when September ends

summer has come and passed
the innocent can never last
wake me up when September ends

ring out the bells again
like we did when spring began
wake me up when September ends

here comes the rain again
falling from the stars
drenched in my pain again
becoming who we are

as my memory rests
but never forgets what I lost
wake me up when September ends

Summer has come and passed
The innocent can never last
wake me up when September ends

like my fathers come to pass
twenty years has gone so fast
wake me up when September ends
wake me up when September ends
wake me up when September ends

acquainted with grief

2010-09-02T12:10:00.002-07:00

Isaiah 53:3-5

He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.

Get on with it

2010-06-24T04:11:00.018-07:00

One of my new friends linked to this article on her blog. She lost her son last month and reading her thoughts has been painful, yet therapeutic. I remember that anguish...that pain so searingly fresh. Being unable to do anything, think anything, be anything other than PAIN. Not believing that you will ever be able to breathe normally again, or walk through the world without feeling like a foreigner...an alien race, or being able to feel peace or hope or happiness again. Ugh...its just so hard. Its like being burned all over your body...you can't do anything for them. Just existing hurts. Even healing hurts them. Every little touch, gesture, hug hurts, even if you don't mean for it to.

Reading this article brought back so much, too...and shocked me. What's shocking to me is that he gets it...how did he realize all that without going through the process himself?! When he said grief was holy...it resonated within me. YES. That was exactly what plagued me for so long...knowing that this process was important, even the dark, crazy, scary moments...but not knowing exactly why. Most people only want to deal with the comforting, easy-to-swallow, peaceful moments. Some didn't understand when I said I couldn't shouldn't and wouldn't do that. I *had* to feel all of it. It was SO HARD, but I look back and treasure those moments, in a way. Its hard to explain...but he does it in this article.

When you lose a child, grieving is a lifelong experience
written by: Steven Kalas
ReviewJournal.com

"When our first child is born, a loud voice says, "Runners, take your marks!" We hear the starting gun and the race begins. It's a race we must win at all cost. We have to win. The competition is called "I'll race you to the grave." I'm currently racing three sons. I really want to win.

Not everyone wins.

I'm here at the national meeting of Compassionate Friends, an organization offering support and resources for parents who lose the race. I'm wandering the halls during the "break-out" sessions. In this room are parents whose children died in car accidents. Over there is a room full of parents of murdered children. Parents of cancer victims are at the end of the hall. Miscarriages and stillbirths are grouped together, as are parents who have survived a child's suicide. And so it goes.

In a few minutes, I'm going to address Compassionate Friends. This is the toughest audience of my life. I mix with the gathering crowd, and a woman from Delaware glances at my name tag. Her name tag has a photo of her deceased son. My name tag is absent photos.

"So ... you haven't ... lost anyone," she says cautiously.

"My three sons are yet alive, if that's what you're asking me," I say gently.

She tries to nod politely, but I can see that I've lost credibility in her eyes. She's wondering who invited this speaker, and what on earth he could ever have to say to her.

My address is titled "The Myth of Getting Over It." It's my attempt to answer the driving questions of grieving parents: When will I get over this? How do I get over this?

You don't get over it. Getting over it is an inappropriate goal. An unreasonable hope. The loss of a child changes you. It changes your marriage. It changes the way birds sing. It changes the way the sun rises and sets. You are forever different.

You don't want to get over it. Don't act surprised. As awful a burden as grief is, you know intuitively that it matters, that it is profoundly important to be grieving. Your grief plays a crucial part in staying connected to your child's life. To give up your grief would mean losing your child yet again. If I had the power to take your grief away, you'd fight me to keep it. Your grief is awful, but it is also holy. And somewhere inside you, you know that.

The goal is not to get over it. The goal is to get on with it.

Profound grief is like being in a stage play wherein suddenly the stagehands push a huge grand piano into the middle of the set. The piano paralyzes the play. It dominates the stage. No matter where you move, it impedes your sight lines, your blocking, your ability to interact with the other players. You keep banging into it, surprised each time that it's still there. It takes all your concentration to work around it, this at a time when you have little ability or desire to concentrate on anything.

The piano changes everything. The entire play must be rewritten around it.

But over time the piano is pushed to stage left. Then to upper stage left. You are the playwright, and slowly, surely, you begin to find the impetus and wherewithal to stop reacting to the intrusive piano. Instead, you engage it. Instead of writing every scene around the piano, you begin to write the piano into each scene, into the story of your life.

You learn to play that piano. You're surprised to find that you want to play, that it's meaningful, even peaceful to play it. At first your songs are filled with pain, bitterness, even despair. But later you find your songs contain beauty, peace, a greater capacity for love and compassion. You and grief -- together -- begin to compose hope. Who'da thought?

Your grief becomes an intimate treasure, though the spaces between the grief lengthen. You no longer need to play the piano every day, or even every month. But later, when you're 84, staring out your kitchen window on a random Tuesday morning, you welcome the sigh, the tears, the wistful pain that moves through your heart and reminds you that your child's life mattered.

You wipe the dust off the piano and sit down to play."

Tulips

2010-06-22T12:10:00.002-07:00

My cousin planted tulip bulbs last year for Gavin's birthday...they recently bloomed and she sent me some pictures! It made my day...I love that others are still remembering my little guy!

slipping

2010-05-11T23:57:00.003-07:00

The other day I was sorting and organizing family pictures on our computer when I ran across a file of home videos. There were a bunch in there of Gavin. I decided to watch one. It was the first time I've watched one since he died. It was like watching a stranger. How could that be my Gavin? My little boy?

I was really shocked at how sick he looked. I never really understood why others always thought he was on the brink of death, but now I do. He never seemed that yellow to me. His tummy never seemed that big (at least not when we were at home...our hospital trips were a different story). I was surprised by other things, too...how much I had forgotten about him...how much didn't trigger any memories for me. It felt like none of it was real, like it never really happened.

I am starting to forget things about him. How he sounded, how he moved, how he laughed, how he looked at me. Its inevitable...it happens to all of us, even when our children are still here. Can you recall exactly what it was like when your child was a newborn? A 1 year old? etc...

I hate that he is slipping away from me. That he is slipping away from all of us. The other day Evienne asked how to spell his name. It made me sad...had it really been that long since she's seen his name or had to write it down? His name was so perfect...it held so much promise, so much life. We spent so much time and energy trying to find the perfect one...and now its just a memory. It makes me sad that he only got to use it for such a short time.

It hurts so much that our family isn't complete anymore...I want all my children to be lined up together. I want to name them off one by one. But instead there is just a space where he used to be.

The loss is real, even for Mormons.

2010-04-26T14:16:00.005-07:00

A friend linked me to this article Grief is OK- even for Mormons, and it was so comforting to read.

"Unlike the Savior, we do not have the ability to raise our deceased friends and family from the grave, but we do have the full range of human emotion -- a gift, I'm certain, God intended for us to experience -- and grief is part of that. ... In the meantime, they will grieve, cry, mourn and confront their testimonies head on. And I think that's OK.""

Sometimes it seems like because we believe in eternal families and life after death, that it gives us a free pass to not grieve, or worse, to expect others not to grieve. Mormons pride themselves on having "happy" funerals. The reason being, we 'know' we will see them again someday, so why mourn? We should celebrate their joyous reunion with their loved ones who have gone on before, and look forward to our own reunions with anticipation. Yes, we will miss them, but having our gospel knowledge is comfort enough.

So at a Mormon funeral you'll notice its not customary for everyone to wear black, its a colorful affair. You'll notice more "happy" tears than sad ones. Its not uncommon for funerals to feel more like family reunions, and you're more likely to hear laughing and reminiscing about the past than silence in respect for the dead.

When I was a younger, I remember feeling a sort of pride that we could treat funerals this way. It was almost like we were more enlightened, we didn't need to debase ourselves with weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. We didn't need to drape ourselves in black and keep our heads lowered. We knew the truth!

When someone dies of natural causes at the end of a very long fulfilling life, this reaction isn't so troublesome. In fact, I think most people would want their loved ones to celebrate their life, than to mourn their loss. But sometimes, I think we take it too far. True, it does make attending funerals much more pleasant. No need to burden oneself with the uncomfortable feelings of grief and loss. But who is the funeral really for? What is the real purpose? I think the desire to comfort has led some people to forget that they are there to mourn with those who mourn, not to make them smile and forget. The funeral is for the ones who were very close to the person who died, and need to express those feelings of loss and grief.

At my father's funeral when I was 18, I remember being "strong" and "brave". I greeted people, I shed "happy" tears, I reminisced. I thought that was what I was "supposed" to do. But the moment that meant the most to me was when a long time friend walked straight up to me and wrapped me in her arms and cried. Finally all the pent up emotion was released. I cried and cried, and felt more comfort in that moment than in a million "brave smiles" and "happy stories".

And then seven years later, I was standing in front of Gavin's casket before they closed the lid. I wanted to throw myself over his body and hold him and weep. But I kept thinking, 'We don't do those kind of things at funerals. Its not proper." So I didn't. I remained "strong" and "brave" and played my part well. But I was wrong. I should have cried. I should have held my baby one last time. I should have showed my true feelings.

I felt so upset the day after Gavin's funeral, and didn't really understand why at first. I felt like I was supposed to be "okay", and that Mormons shouldn't grieve (at least not publicly). That my next part to play should be to get up at Fast & Testimony meeting and testify that everything was okay because I 'knew' the truth. But the truth was...the truth didn't matter. It didn't make me feel any better at all! I wanted to weep and wail and gnash my teeth. I wanted to drape myself in the blackness that I felt all around me. I was feeling the loss, and nothing was going to make that "okay".

I realize now that those feelings are not just okay, they are sacred. There is nothing more sacred than the love a mother has for her child. And the expression of those feelings, of that incredible loss, is pure and real. Those who shut themselves off from those feelings, from expressing them, and also from helping others to bear them, are missing a fundamental part of humanity. Feeling the Loss explains it so well:

"Even though Jesus knew that Lazarus would rise, He did not arrive at the tomb with smiles and assurances that all would be well. The loss was real. It is because He wept at the grave of His friend that I feel I can reach to Him with my own losses."

Jesus could have simply strolled in and rose Lazarus from the dead immediately. But He didn't. He wept with them. He felt the loss. He bore their grief, and grieved himself. Why? I believe He did it to show us that grief is a sacred and necessary part of life and death.

Its okay to feel sad. Its okay to cry. Its okay to mourn and grieve. The loss is real. Even for Mormons.

I miss...

2010-04-20T12:39:00.000-07:00

...little boy flip flops. And little boy clothes. And little boy toys. Every time I go to the store I try not to look at the clothes, but I can't seem to help myself. Sometimes I just stop and stare at an outfit that would have looked so cute on him. It takes all my will power not put it in my cart. What would I do with it?! I don't know...put it in a box in the top of a closet, I guess. I just want to HAVE it. I want to buy it and hold it and look at it and cherish it. But I know its too cruel.

Sometimes I see him in Olivia. If I look at her out of the corner of my eye, I can almost pretend it IS him. Just for a few seconds... Sometimes I hold her and close my eyes and try to remember. I run my fingers through her hair and wish they had those same little curls.

2 weeks

2010-03-11T23:27:00.001-07:00

Today Olivia is the same age as Gavin when he died. Two weeks exactly before her 1st birthday. By this time he had already died. We had left the hospital and I was in our hotel room begging God to either let me sleep or let me die. He didn't grant me either one. The next morning his doctor came to our room, sat on my bed and held me in her arms while I wept. She told me I had to live for the baby that would be coming soon...our little girl, our little Olivia. She reminded me that all the parts that made Gavin special would also be in her. That she shared the same parents, the same DNA...a part of him would live on through her.

I keep looking at her hands and feet, trying to remember what his looked like. I hold her and try to remember what it was like holding him. I think about how happy she is and how much she's growing and learning, and how playful and stubborn and curious and cute and just...how alive she is...and it makes me so, so, so sad that Gavin doesn't get to wake up tomorrow morning. That he didn't get to live. Tomorrow I will have had her longer than him. It still doesn't feel real. How can my brain still refuse to accept it?

Windows

2010-02-26T17:39:00.009-07:00

I liked this post I read on a blog I frequent. It is so honest.

"Give me a Break"
http://sixldswriters.blogspot.com/2010/02/give-me-break.html

And I LOVE this comment that followed by "broken":

"And like you mentioned so aptly, there is beauty to be found in the shards of broken lives and even dreams. The Lord is picking up our scattered pieces every day, placing each one delicately into a brilliant stained glass version of ourselves, perfectly suited to the warm touch of a smiling sun.

Stained glass is stunning, even though the glass itself may never come to that realization. But those of us looking on thank you for the beauty we see through you.

We are all windows, transmitting ever more brightly the passing light. And as our broken pieces are lifted up into a better frame, the glass becomes a more beautiful mirror of our perfect selves, waiting for us just on the horizon.

So broken is a miracle in progress."

So beautiful and poignant. I would like to put a stained glass window in my house somewhere to remind me of it. Maybe there's my miracle??? Its me. The fact that I am broken, but still alive and breathing and sometimes happy. That is indeed a miracle.

zing

2010-02-24T00:44:00.002-07:00

A few months ago I finally got my "zinger" comment, and it decreased my desire to share my feelings here like I used to. It stirred up thought patterns and feelings I had long ago worked through, and it took months to get anywhere near the progress I had previously made. Its still shocking to me how one, single, judgmental comment can utterly destroy you when you are grieving. I still tried to write often, but didn't end up publishing a lot. I would be so stressed out and frustrated, trying to make it censored and unoffensive, and "okay". And finally I'd just forget it because I was too afraid of being judged, misunderstood, or criticized.

It added a layer of difficulty to my progress...my writing was, and still is, a source of healing for me. Being able to write down the feelings that plague me, somehow helps to free me from them. I've also gained some great friends and confidants through my writing. It helps to not feel so alone. And one of the tiny, tiny positives of this experience is being able to express the things that others cannot, and helping them to heal, too. However, I finally realized I had been writing for all the wrong reasons, or should I say to all the wrong people?

At first, I started writing to try to help my friends and family understand what I was going through. I thought that if I could somehow make all my senseless thoughts and feelings make sense to everyone else, then it would be easier to accept them myself. If I detailed the grief process and quoted books and proved that this was all normal, then everything would be okay. I would be okay. So whenever it seemed like other people "got it", I felt validated. (If they get it, then I must be normal, I must be "okay"...right???) But then I'd get one of those judgmental "zingers", and I felt like a failure. Like all the things I feared, and everything I thought everyone else thought about me, must be true. (If I can't make them see it, then I must be the problem, there must be something wrong with me...) And all my progress would come crashing down.

This week I discovered how my writing truly helps me, and strangely it wasn't through writing, it was through reading. I was on a friend's online journal reading about the night her daughter died, and some parts of it were so similar to the night Gavin died. It was like stabs of pain into my heart to relive it through her words. But somehow, even through the hurt, I felt an overwhelming gratefulness that she had shared it. I was about to comment, "Thank you for sharing your story..." when I stopped and thought "Why am I thankful when it brought up painful reminders for me?" I eventually realized that through sharing those details, she was allowing me to share her most sacred experience. She was allowing me to connect with her...to share our pain, our loss, our grief. I felt love for her...this woman I've never met, never spoken to face to face. For a moment, I didn't feel quite so alone, and with that came a small amount of peace...and for that I was truly grateful.

I realized this is why I write...not for those curiously peering in from the other side of the looking glass, but for myself and others who are grieving a loss. That's where my real healing comes from. I write to validate our thoughts and feelings through our shared experiences. To create connections. To make friends. To heal together.

It has lifted such a heavy weight from my shoulders. I don't need to prove to anyone else that I am actually doing quite well in processing my grief and that, yes, its "normal". I don't need to make anyone else "get it". Those who love me, will love me whether they "get it" or not. They don't need to know why, they just love me anyway. And if others are judgmental and unkind, its not because I am failing or because I didn't quote enough sources, or because I haven't made the grief process quite clear enough for them. 'Cause, you know, I'm a bit busy grieving over my son, and that's what books are for!

So, going forward I hope my writing will again be a source of relief for me, without all the added stress. I'm writing for me. I'm writing for my angel baby mommy (and daddy) friends...those I already know and love, and those yet to come. And if it happens to help anyone else, then that's just icing on the cake.

Through the Valley of the Shadow...

2010-02-04T10:50:00.007-07:00

I've never heard this perspective from someone who actually did get their miracle. It was so refreshing.

Through the Valley of the Shadow...
http://bycommonconsent.com/2008/05/09/through-the-valley-of-the-shadow/

more thoughts on it later...

boxes

2010-01-16T18:03:00.001-07:00

I've mentioned 'pretty, shiny boxes with bows on top' on my blog a lot, and usually out of frustration. I don't have anything against them, really. I like pretty, shiny boxes with bows on top. I'm one of those people who likes to have all the Christmas wrappings themed and matching. I love to wrap presents in pretty paper with all the edges creased just so, equal-sized pieces of tape, covered with piles of curly ribbon or huge tulle bows. Perfection. I am good at it, and I like to do it. And when I'm done, I have a beautiful, perfected creation in front of me. Its an art!

This is what I have been trying to do with my life. Wrapping it up in pretty, shiny paper, trying to crease the imperfect edges just so, taping it shut with equal sized pieces of tape, and sticking a huge pile of beautiful curly ribbon on top. And after years and years of trying to do this, I have met my match. Something that was TOO BIG to even consider putting in a pretty box. It is SO FRUSTRATING!!! I don't want to accept that I will never get that pretty, shiny box of my own. I don't want to accept that my life is never going to be the life that I always wanted. The life that so many others still get to live. And now logically, I know I HAVE to. There is no choice. Yet here I am, still fighting, twisting, arguing, debating, pushing, kicking, screaming and digging my heels into the dirt just trying to MAKE IT SO. But danggit, it just won't fit.

So now what?

What do you do when your dream is over before its barely begun? What do you do when your dream turns into a nightmare? God willing, I've only lived 1/3 of my life, and yet I am now faced with the harsh reality that I will never have the life I wanted and dreamed of, no matter what I do, and the rest of it will always leave me wanting more. Its hard to face that reality with optimism and hope.

I know I should be grateful for other things that I have, and I do have some great things in my life. And I get really upset at myself when I start feeling bad, because I know there are others who have it "worse" than me (so not only do I feel awful, but then I feel guilty for feeling awful). But its kinda like getting a coat for Christmas, when everyone else on the block is getting bikes. And not a cute coat either...a bulky, ugly, scratchy, 100% wool, 'practical' coat that I can't return, and I am never, ever, ever allowed to take off. Ya, I suppose a coat is useful, and at least I got something, which is more than what some people get...but danggit, I really wanted that bike!!! And then I have to sit on my porch, wearing my stupid coat, while (seemingly) everyone else rides around on their bikes with big 'ole grins on their faces. Its hard not to be a little upset about it. Its really not very fair. And yet the coat is mine. And the bike is not.

So now what?

I'm not the first, nor will be the last, person to face this problem. Sooner or later, everyone gets knocked off their ladder, and then you'll have to clean out your closet, and try to make sense of everything again, and maybe not try to shove it in a pretty, shiny box with a bow on it (enough metaphors for ya?!)...but somehow learn to accept it for what it is and even, learn to love it and enjoy it, even with all its faults, and imperfect creases, and rips and tears, and no pile of curly ribbon. Just banged up, beat up, scarred for good...life. And accept that, whether you like it or not, its YOUR life, and you're only getting ONE, and somehow, you've got to figure out a way to make peace with it, despite the fact that its not the life you wanted.

While still accepting, that deep down, its normal to still want the bike, and you shouldn't feel guilty about it.

Toys!

2009-11-08T15:50:00.015-07:00

We FINALLY found a chance to take all the toys donated for Gavin's birthday to the Cardon Children's Hospital at Banner Desert. First we got to take all the extra money donated and go on a WILD shopping spree! We had $250.00 left over after we paid for the wagon, and that wasn't including the check for $150 that was donated by Boomer the Dog (and his owners!) that went straight to the hospital!!! The kids thought that was pretty cool...but giving all the toys away afterwards was a little hard. ;)

Mindy, the childlife specialist we worked with, had sent us a wish list of the things they could use. The infants and toddlers sometimes get forgotten, so they don't get as much stuff donated for those ages. They can ALWAYS use items like portable dvd players, crib mobiles, white noise machines, bouncy seats, and exersaucers. So we tried to focus more on that age group with the money, since we already had a lot of school aged toys donated.

We bought a portable dvd player, some crib mobiles, a preschool computer game (also requested), a ride-on spinning zebra toy for the playroom, some clip-on crib toys that play music and light up, crinkle books, rattles, those little piano toys that have pop-up animals when you push the keys, a couple preschool aged board games, some ball poppers, teethers, battery-operated bubble blowers, books, and batteries (I bet they go through those pretty fast!). It was SO hard to restrain myself from buying MORE...we actually had to put some other stuff back because we went WAY over budget (we even ended up throwing in $100 of our own, too).

Mindy gave us a little tour after we put the toys and wagon in Andrea's Closet. We saw the Forever Young media room, which was SO COOL...Steve Young's Foundation donated over $1 million for it...it has a stage for celebs/groups to perform on, or the kids can make up their own plays & dances. There is even a video camera to record them! There is also a movie screen that drops down, and two huge screen TVs for movie nights, lots of chairs for the audience and room for crafts. I wish I had taken a picture of it! I can just imagine all the fun plays, dance groups, comedians, singers, etc that will be able to perform there for all the kids.

One FULL trunk!!!

Now one FULL wagon...

...plus 6 FULL bags...

...plus 3 FULL sets of hands!!!

The plaque on Gavin's Wagon, it says "In loving memory of Gavin Sprague"

heading to Andrea's Closet:

there's a giant chess set in the lobby:

and silver butterflies inlaid in the floor:

the ceilings are painted to look like the sky:

the new train area!

One of Gavin's favorite nurses came down to chat with us and get a picture!

I was so happy to be able to donate all those toys in honor of our little man. I talked to Mindy the next day and she said she had already opened tons of the toys for some of the babies who didn't have anyone to stay with them (it seriously breaks my heart to think of those little ones all alone with no one to hold and love them). She said they loved the toys! I can't wait until next year and I'm already thinking of new themes we can do. They are going to be opening a brand new outside play area in the next year, so we'll probably focus on that for Gavin's 3rd birthday!
Mindy said before we left "You have no idea how much this helps!" and I replied "Oh yes...we really do know. We know all too well." So thank you SO MUCH to everyone who donated! It meant so much to our family. I hope seeing all these pictures and knowing that the toys are being enjoyed is making you happy, too! Such small things can make such a HUGE difference to those who are in the hospital. It gives me SO MUCH happiness thinking of their days being a little easier and brighter because of these toys.

weight

2009-10-18T01:02:00.005-07:00

I am reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being right now. I almost put it down after the first page because its just SO not the kind of literature I can concentrate on right now. But I pushed onward (besides, it has a really cool title). Then a paragraph in the second chapter stood out to me:

"The heaviest of burdens crushes us, we sink beneath it, it pins us to the ground. The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become. Conversely, the absolute absence of burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant. What then shall we choose? Weight or lightness?"

And I was like, I get it. I totally get it. Its one of the many conflicting battles that rages within me. Sometimes I feel so angry and jealous towards those who still get to reside in beautiful, shiny bubbles...they still get to see the world through rosy-iridescent walls where things make sense and life is good. I use to live in a pretty bubble, too, if only for a short time. And had Gavin lived, I would've been one of those people who get up at Fast & Testimony meeting at church on Sunday and tearfully exclaims, "I know everything is true, and all my prayers are answered, and everything is great, great and HAPPY, and my life is amazing, 'cause I am so blessed, like SERIOUSLY, so blessed." I would never have given a second thought to how soul-crushing those words can be to those whose lives have been reduced to "but if not..."

I would never have known what I know now. I would never have known how black the darkness can be. I would never have known how far down, down can be. I would never have known what abandonment feels like. I would never have known what its like to lose all knowledge, then all faith, and even all hope. I would never pause like I do now, to really, truly look at someone and wonder what hidden wounds they harbor. I would never know what its like to really, truly love someone that I just met, simply because we both know.

But is it worth it? Is it worth it to have your bubble popped, your life absolutely shattered, and your whole soul broken and beaten into the earth? Is it worth it to lose all beauty and hope to understand uglyness and despair? Is it worth it to have that knowledge, that understanding? Because there is no other way to gain that knowledge...it only comes through your own personal suffering. And once your bubble is popped, you can't go back. You can't think, feel, believe all the things you used to before, even when thats all you really want because it would just be so much easier. Things just don't make sense like they used to through those rosy walls. So would you rather live a life where your actions are insignificant, but blissful...lightness? Or would you rather live a "real", raw, painful existence down in the dirt...weight? The Garden of Eden or The Fallen Earth?

I know what I want.

I want to be back in my damn bubble.

At least, most of the time I think I do. But then I am confronted with the unbearable lightness of being in others around me, and I have second thoughts. Am I grateful for this knowledge? I don't really think so...not yet anyway. I'm still wondering why I am apparently destined for lifelong defeat (sorry if that comes across as dramatic, but thats I how I truly feel sometimes). But when I read that paragraph, I thought...maybe there is something in all this.

Maybe there is some hope after all. Maybe someday I'll be grateful for this knowledge. Maybe someday I will say, yes, I would rather be down here in the dirt than up in a bubble. Maybe someday I will notice beauty down here that can't be observed from up there. Maybe someday I will find that in the dirt down here, flowers have bloomed from all the tears I have cried.

Flowers for Gavin

2009-10-12T00:33:00.006-07:00

These flowers were planted by a friend of Gavin's liver buddy, Martim, a little boy who also has Alpha-1 and lives in the UK. Martim's mom, Alice, found Gavin's blog last year after Martim was diagnosed, as she was struggling to find answers about this seldom heard of condition. We e-mailed back and forth a bit, and she even has a picture and a link to Gavin's blog on Martim's blog. She is such a caring woman...she has never met us, but she reads here and comments often, and thinks of Gavin as she watches Martim grow.

Their friend, Patricia, found us through that link. She planted some flowers in her garden in honor of Gavin and e-mailed me some pictures. She said "I chose Amores Perfeitos. In English, they are named Pansy Flowers, but I prefer to translate, and call them Perfect Love - like a mother´s love. Perfect." She posted more about it on her blog (its translated in English below the Portuguese!)

Somewhere in Portugal these beautiful flowers are blooming just for my baby boy...

This lovely sunflower bloomed in Susan's garden on Gavin's Angel Day. Her daughter is another one of Gavin's Liver buddies. She said she thought of Gavin when she saw it. I have such great friends from the Liver Families support website! We only knew each other for such a short time, but they all continue to give us so much love and support. It really, really means so much to me. I've had a handful of people e-mail me after finding Gavin's blog when their child was diagnosed with Alpha-1 (like Alice!), and I always refer them to LF for support. They are the best!

My cousin, Kim, and her little boys picked out this plant to put in their apartment to honor Gavin. They recently moved to California so they couldn't attend his birthday party, but they wanted to participate in some way. She said later that day she noticed it was just under their picture of the Temple, so now she is reminded of "Forever Families" every time she looks at it. I am really grateful for our family. They are so good to me.

Gavin's 2nd Birthday Party- pics!

2009-10-07T03:45:00.017-07:00

{Happy Birthday, my little Baddabink!}

{We had such a fun time at Gavin's Birthday party! Thank you to everyone who celebrated our little boy's life with us!}

{And thanks to those who helped bake cupcakes, and a BIG thank you to my cuz, Jenny, who helped me decorate all of them!}

{Gavin would have loved his Baby Einstein caterpillar cake...it was his favorite part of those movies! I teared up every time I walked by it.}

{Our garden BEFORE...}

{Mommy planting a flower...}

{Big Brother planting a flower...}

{Daddy planting a flower...}

{Big Sister planting a flower...}

{and Baby Sister eating peaches!}

{We got a visit from Boomer the Service Dog...he is a Bull Mastiff and is SO big! He helps carry the oxygen tanks for his pal, Lee, who has Alpha-1. The kids LOVED getting to pet him!!!}

{All the toys donated that night!}

{There will be a LOT more once we use all the cash that was donated...after the wagon is paid for, there will still be $250.00 left for MORE toys!!! We are going to go shopping Monday morning, so there is still time to donate if anyone wants to!}

{Our garden AFTER...}

{Slideshow of everyone else's pictures! Let me know if you'd like copies of any of them and I'll e-mail them to you!}

Happy Birthday

2009-10-06T20:22:00.004-07:00

Happy 2nd Birthday, baby boy.

tonight

2009-10-06T07:36:00.002-07:00

Gavin's 2nd Birthday
Tuesday, October 6th
5:00pm-7:00pm
"Come and Go"

We are going to have a birthday party and toy drive for Gavin's 2nd Birthday! Everyone is invited to stop by our house for a birthday cupcake and to drop off an unwrapped toy to be donated to Banner Desert Children's Hospital. They give these toys to the children during their stay and after having procedures done (which is SO appreciated- its so hard keeping kids entertained and happy in those little rooms 24/7, especially when you are there for a week or two!).

We are also going to be donating a wagon to the children's ward in memory of Gavin (he loved those wagons SO much!), if you'd rather donate a few dollars towards that. I am pretty excited about the wagon...since it has a canopy on the top, the kids will be able to go outside! (I remember always wanting to walk around outside with Gavin, but we never made it past the courtyard because the sun was just too bright and in his eyes). His paypal account is still open, so donations can be sent online through Paypal to info@giftforgavin.org, or we will have a cash jar set up at our house tonight as well. (Any extra money will go towards purchasing more toys.)

1 year

2009-09-23T18:01:00.009-07:00

Just one straight and narrow way, at the end of which, though we arrive trailing tears, we shall at once be “drenched in joy.” - Elder Neal A. Maxwell

So we made it. It was true that the anticipation was worse than the actual day. The night before was actually harder for me in some ways. But the day of, I really didn't feel that differently...I was sad, but I'm always sad when I think about not having Gavin. Throughout the day I would cautiously assess my emotions to see how I felt...Hmmm. Yep, today sucks. Just like every other day! Time was still slipping away, life was still charging on...and Gavin was still not here.

The kids stayed home from school with us and we slept in late, went out for breakfast, bought way too much dessert to take home, and took another long nap. Later that evening we went down to the cemetery to plant some grass seeds on Gavin's grave (I hate saying that). But surprisingly, there was already grass grown over the entire thing. It was sort of comforting, I hated seeing that rectangle of dirt...but it was also disconcerting. You couldn't even tell he was there anymore. It made me really want to finish his headstone. We cleaned up the flowers, and left some yellow and green butterfly decorations. Then Andre and I layed in the grass and watched the stars come out while the kids ran around and played.

Later that night we watched the picture montage video that my cousin made for Gavin's funeral. Andre and I hadn't seen it before, since it was playing out in the foyer. The kids remembered it however, and had been asking to watch it for the last 6 months. Andre and I didn't really want to because we knew it would hurt, but we did anyway. It was really, really hard. All of us cried through the entire hour long video.

Let me tell you what almost hurts worse than losing a child...watching your remaining children sob uncontrollably because they miss him so much. My heart truly shattered. In that moment I hated God so much...I didn't even care about my hurt anymore...how could He do this to such innocent, loving children?? How could He let them hurt so much at such a tender, young age?? And when my kids hurt, I get angry!! I think He understands. The feeling didn't last long, but its still so hard to understand why... How do you even begin to explain something like that to a child who just loved their brother with all their heart and soul? You can't. I almost turned the video off a few times because I just couldn't bear to see them hurting like that anymore, but they begged me to leave it on.

Afterwards, Andre and I tried to comfort them as best as we could figure out. We cried some more, hugged some more, and discussed what they remembered about the day Gavin died. Mostly I just tried to listen to them. When they finally stopped crying, we drew pictures and wrote letters to Gavin. Joenick ended his with "please come back soon"...

But even with all that, I never felt that terrifying, uncontrollable, black hole feeling. No nightmares. Just sadness. I did find myself occasionally checking the clock and thinking back to what we had been doing at that time...but I wasn't gripped by the trauma of what we went through that day. I think the therapy we have been going to helped a LOT with that. I'm so glad we were able to get through most of the sessions before this day came.

Thank you so much to all our friends who stopped by to check on us and to drop off cards, etc. It helps to not feel so alone in this. We also received some emails of flowers already planted for Gavin, and donations towards the wagon!

CHANGE!

2009-09-21T17:56:00.001-07:00

There's been a CHANGE in plans...we went to buy flowers today and apparently Fall flowers won't be ready for another 1-2 weeks. There was pretty much nothing to choose from. SOOOOO, after much thought we've decided to just combine the two events into one.... TOMORROW is cancelled, and we'll plant flowers, eat cupcakes, collect toys, etc all on Gavin's birthday instead, in two weeks: Tuesday, Oct 6.

SORRY for the last minute change, but I think this will work out much better anyway. It was getting a little stressful planning two parties. :P We hope to see you all in two weeks!!! :)

Love,
The Spragues

Honoring Gavin + his 2nd Birthday
Tuesday, October 6th
6:00pm-7:00pm "come and go"

We are going to have a birthday party and toy drive for Gavin's 2nd Birthday. Everyone is invited to stop by our house to eat a birthday cupcake, plant a flower, and donate an unwrapped toy to be donated to Banner Desert Children's Hospital!

Plans

2009-09-20T14:57:00.007-07:00

We have figured out what we would like to do for the 1 Year Anniversary of Gavin's "Angel Day", and for Gavin's 2nd Birthday (only two weeks later). Anyone, and I do mean anyone- friends, family, blogger friends, hospital friends, etc, is invited to help honor our sweet little boy!

~~Gavin's 1st Angel Day~~
Tuesday, September 22nd

We are going to plant a tree for Gavin in our front yard, and also green and yellow flowers in our flower bed (Gavin's colors!). We will be starting at 5:00pm and going until 7:00pm-ish. Anyone is welcome to stop by our house, help plant a flower and eat some angel food cake! Just "come and go"...email me if you need directions. If you are unable to make it, or would like to honor Gavin on your own, too, we are asking those who want to, to plant some green and yellow flowers at your own house. (I would love to get pictures of them in my email!) :)

Gavin's 2nd Birthday
Tuesday, October 6th

We are going to have a birthday party and toy drive for Gavin's 2nd Birthday. 6:00pm-7:00pm, "come and go". Everyone is invited to stop by our house for a birthday cupcake and to drop off an unwrapped toy to be donated to Banner Desert Children's Hospital. They use these toys to give to children during their stay (which is SO appreciated- its so hard keeping kids entertained and happy in those little rooms 24/7, especially when you are there for a week or two!) and then the kids get to take the toy home with them. They also use them for Andrea's Closet, a program started by another AZ family who's little girl passed away of cancer. They have a closet full of toys where the kids get to pick a toy to take home on their last day.

We are also going to be donating a wagon to the children's ward in memory of Gavin (he loved those wagons SO much!), if you'd rather donate a few dollars towards that. I am pretty excited about the wagon...since it has a canopy on the top, the kids will be able to go outside! (I remember always wanting to walk around outside with Gavin, but we never made it past the courtyard because the sun was just too bright and in his eyes). The wagon will cost $145.00, including tax. His paypal account is still open, so donations can be sent online to info@giftforgavin.org. (Any extra money will go towards purchasing more toys.)

I also wanted to mention that anyone is welcome to visit Gavin's grave whenever...we don't mind if others leave items there for him either. (I don't know that anyone would want to, but I just wanted to say it in case maybe someone ever did?) I know we all loved that little boy. :') You can go to the office at the Mesa Cemetary and ask for a map & directions, or just turn left on row 11 and its towards the end on the right handside, right below my dad's headstone. (there isn't a headstone for Gavin yet, but we're working on it).

waves

2009-09-17T03:02:00.000-07:00

The last couple of weeks have been really hard. I can feel the waves getting stronger as it gets closer to the 22nd. I liked to think I was just sitting on the shore observing them, but now they are starting to crash all around me. I can feel the undertow lurching around my body, threatening to pull me back out to that vast, dark, deep ocean.

Its frightening...these emotions are so powerful and I feel weaker and weaker against them. I try to keep telling myself the anticipation will turn out to be worse than the actual day. I try to keep myself busy and distracted. But whether I mentally acknowledge it or not, my body and spirit feel it coming. Its looming over everything I do. My patience has been short, my anger quick to ignite, and over all is a dark depression. My body feels weighted down. Inside I feel panicked...everything is moving too fast again...the helplessness, the hopelessness, the fear. He just needs more time...

I don't know what to do on that day. What do you do? What do you do on the day your baby died?! There is no manual for things like this...no customary rituals or ceremonies. Will we want to be alone? Will we want to be around family and friends? Should we do something to acknowledge it? Should we go to the cemetery? Or should we try to ignore it? Should we go somewhere far away? I just don't know.

At first, I think we should do something special. But then a part of me revolts...NO! I just want to feel horrible!!! I want everyone else to feel horrible, too!!! Its a horrible, horrible thing that happened and everything that day should be HORRIBLE!!!

But then instantly I think of my little man...my perfect angel baby...and the screaming inside quiets to a whisper...your sweet baby boy. And its decided. I have to do something to honor him. Something special. I just don't know what yet.

healing

2009-09-09T14:01:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about this lately. Its almost been one year since Gavin died. I've spent a lot of time looking back over the last 11 months and how things have progressed, and regressed, and changed. What stands out to me, is how strange (and frustrating) it is that so many people seem to think a grieving person has a choice in how, or how long they grieve. That if they just had more faith, more humility, more sanity, more strength...it would somehow not be "as bad" or last "as long". I hear accounts from the other angel baby moms that I know, and my heart hurts for them. Most of them have had searingly, horrible comments made to them about their grief. They've come from friends, family, church members and even Bishops....those in their lives who should be the most sensitive to their pain. Its so confusing to me that something like grief, something we will ALL go through at some point in our life, is so misunderstood by our current society.

Thankfully, I haven't had any instances quite as bad as theirs. Almost all of our friends and family members are so patient, understanding and loving towards Andre and I. They make us feel safe in expressing our feelings, no matter how crazy or scary those feelings are. They let us work through our thoughts without worrying that we will be judged. They give us permission to feel and think what we need to, and they love us no matter what. Its the most valuable thing anyone can do for us. One of the most important things in the healing process is the allowance to feel, and to have those feelings validated.

However, I have occassionally received negative impressions from others. I'm sure a few people read my blog and think some of things that I write aren't "healthy". I'm sure a few probably think all the above...that my grief must be abnormal, that surely other parents who go through this don't take it "so hard". That I shouldn't "allow" certain things to bother me anymore, and that they shouldn't have to be careful of what they say or do around me anymore. That I must be wallowing, or not trying hard enough, or I need to be more humble, pray more, read scriptures more, go to the Temple more. Or that I need to just get over it and force myself to move on. I know this (and it hurts). However, I'm glad those who do think these things at least have had the sense not to say them outright to my face! For that I'm thankful. (a little sad, right?)

The "funny" thing, is what I write on here is soooo censored. I am thinking and feeling things a million times worse than anything I've ever written on here. I usually only write after the storm has blown through, and I've typed and retyped a dozen times. But I can confidently assure everyone that everything I have thought and felt is indeed quite normal for a grieving mother. I have about 20 books on the subject sitting on my bookshelf that all attest to that (yes, even the ones from the LDS bookstore)- its pretty much standard textbook. Normal, natural, and most importantly, necessary. The process of grieving is not just emotional, its physiological. The shock, the numbness, the conflicting thoughts and feelings, the guilt, the circular reasoning...these are all things the brain and body are hardwired to do when faced with such trauma. Its how you survive such immense, physical pain. Its not just "feeling sad" and "missing" your loved one. Its a series of natural responses.

This is reassuring to me most of the time (I'm not crazy after all!)...its only when I start to feel others' judgement that my defenses start to cave in. I'll be trying so hard to take one step forward, and thinking that I'm doing so much better, and then I'm shoved two steps back. Its hard enough having to grieve without others making you feel like you're doing it wrong. (seriously, how hopeless do you have to be to mess that up?!) One of the books I have says that in some ways, the second year is even harder than the the first, because even though some of the pain may be subsiding, most people no longer give you permission to feel and grieve anymore. They are done feeling uncomfortable, sad, and scared because of your loss. They are done being sensitive in the things they say and do around you. They get impatient and frustrated and want you to go back to being "normal". They want to forget about it, focus on their own lives, and move on. How incredibly hurtful and scary for those grieving! There is no magic switch that automatically turns off at one year (or five years, or ten years...)! And no matter how much times passes, there will ALWAYS be moments when the tide comes crashing in and the tears fall. Knowing that other angel baby moms have had such harsh judgement against them makes me so sad...for them, for me, for anyone else grieving a loss. One of the hardest parts of grieving is having to endure the sharp, pointy barbs that others unintentionally (and intentionally and seriously misguided and ignorant) throw our way, especially when its done by those we trusted.

I know it must be hard for those on the outside looking in. Those grieving the loss of a child don't have any visible markings. I have no gaping, bleeding wounds. I have no scars. I have no bandages or crutches. I have no x-rays to prove my injury. I have no prescription to validate my pain. I have no doctor in a white coat telling those around me that I must be allowed to do this, and I can't be allowed to do that, and that it will take 'x' amount of months to heal through a very specific process. And yet, I have been physically injured. Was Gavin not of my own flesh and blood? Was he not a part of my physical body for 9 months? Did I not feel his heart beating next to mine, his breath upon my skin, his body clinging to my side every day for a year? He was a part of me...mind, spirit and body. You may as well have cut off my leg when he died. I feel the emotional, spiritual and physical loss every day. I hurt physically.

It makes me think...if I had been in a horrible accident, if I had lost a leg...would people treat the healing process as negatively? I think if I had lost a leg, nobody would question the need for years of physical therapy to learn how to cope with the loss. Nobody would eye me suspiciously if I continued to struggle to walk for the rest of my life. Nobody would judge my crutches as something that was "holding me back". Nobody would second guess my faith by the length of my healing. Nobody would think I couldn't run a marathon just because I wasn't trying hard enough. They wouldn't say "Don't feel pain, you have the gospel!" or "Don't struggle to walk, you'll be made whole during the Ressurection!" or "You don't need surgery, the Atonement will heal you!" Its laughable, right? Its asinine, actually! And yet these are the very things people think about the healing process for those grieving a very real, and a very physical, loss of a child.

When someone loses a child, a child...some people second guess, they judge, they question, they doubt! They doubt the validity of your ongoing pain! They judge the amount of time necessary to grieve! They second guess your faith if you continue to outwardly struggle. They assume you aren't praying enough, you aren't humble enough, that you must be doing something wrong to still be healing. That its abnormal and unnatural. They decide you are just choosing to dwell on it and that its unhealthy. They decide they must confront you, they must shove your loss in your face and make you accept it, and then they must force you to get over it. The very words make me cringe...and yet this is what is being done when others judge someone's grief. How ignorant to think that they know how you should be grieving, when they haven't ever lost a child! When they have no idea what it feels like! When they haven't even read any books on the subject! Losing a child is horrible, and as such, you are going to feel horrible!

When good things happen to someone, no one raises an eyebrow when they feel good. When someone gets engaged, people don't say "Don't feel good, 50% of marriages end in divorce!". If someone gets a promotion, people don't say "Don't be happy, you'll probably get fired!" But when something bad happens, its "Don't feel bad, you'll have your son in the Ressurection!" and "Don't be unhappy, he's not in pain anymore!". Its okay to feel bad when something bad happens. Its okay for a grieving person to feel sad, angry, confused. At times its okay for them to feel hatred or bitterness or doubt or fear. They're just feelings, and once felt, expressed and validated...its a whole lot easier to work through those feelings. A grieving person needs a safe place to express those feelings...to actually say what they are feeling and thinking outloud, without any eyebrows raising...just unconditional love.

There is a real process to grieving and healing from a loss. Your mind, your body, and your spirit all must go through specific things to heal, and its not something that happens in a few months, or even a year. Everyone who grieves must follow this course. You don't have a choice. You can't speed it up or skip certain parts. It doesn't matter how spiritual or how smart you are. You can't outsmart it or outpray it. Your mind and body go through very specific responses...numbness, disbelief, anger, avoidance, depression...it may not be in a certain order, and its not the same for any two people, but what it is, is NORMAL and NATURAL and NECESSARY. If there's anything that anyone takes away from this blog, I hope its this....if you know someone grieving, just listen and love. Don't try to convince or explain or justify, don't judge, don't doubt, don't set timelines, don't force, don't push. Just LISTEN and LOVE. That's all we need. Thats all I need.

11

2009-08-22T12:33:00.002-07:00

Looking at her today, but only seeing him.
Tears threatening to fall.
Wishing for rain...its too bright outside.
11 months.
Its a sad day.

July 4th

2009-07-08T23:34:00.002-07:00

I wasn't really expecting how hard this holiday would be. It has been the hardest one yet. I guess because Gavin wasn't really old enough to "participate" in the other holidays...Thanksgiving, Christmas, Halloween. But he had SO much fun on the 4th of July. Our whole family did. In fact, I would say its one of the best days we spent together, even though we were in the hospital.

The kids came to the hospital and we wheeled Gavin down to the cafeteria in his little red wagon, where we ate KFC and he took bites of corn on the cob and mashed potatoes and gravy. Then we all got popsicles, which Gavin loved, too! :) When it got dark, the hospital staff got all the kids who were able to leave their rooms and we all went up to the top floor to watch the fireworks over at the community college from the windows. It was so fun! They had a huge box of Americana toys and treats. Gavin kept waving his little flag around...it was so funny!!! Joenick and Evienne had so much fun being there with him. Gavin loved them so much. Everytime he got to see them he would smile so BIG. They made him happy and made him laugh, no matter where he was. I was completely happy that day. It makes me sad to think about it.

I miss him so much. It really hit home when we were walking out the theater (we took the kids to see Ice Age 3) and I was lingering behind and then I looked up and saw my family walking together. Andre holding Olivia, Joenick and Evienne skipping and jumping around...and no Gavin. It broke my heart. He should have been there, too. My little, almost 2 year old guy. I just started bawling and didn't stop. When we got home I told Andre to keep the car running and I went in and grabbed some items, then told him to go to the cemetary. We put some red, white and blue pinwheels on Gavin's grave, and some little flags, too. I just cried and cried and cried, like I haven't done in awhile.

I wish I could have wheeled him and Olivia in their little red wagon around the block in our yearly neighborhood parade. I wish he could be going swimming with us. Olivia loves it...I know Gavin would have, too.

I keep looking at Olivia and thinking, she is 3 months old. This is how old Gavin was when it all started. When he had his first surgery. It makes me hold her just a little closer, for a little longer. I am so, so thankful that we don't have to go through any of that with her.

Gavin, my dear little boy...thank you, thank you for your beautiful life. Thank you for your smile and your eyes and your waves and your laughs and your little fingers and toes. Thank you for your scars. Thank you for hanging on so long. Thank you for your happiness. Thank you for letting me love you. I miss you so, so, so much. I hope you got to see the fireworks from the best seat in the house this year...no windows to block your view! I love you so much, baby boy.

shadows

2009-06-26T12:00:00.006-07:00

I read a blog post recently by a woman who had lost a child a few years back. She used two words to describe something, and immediately I knew what she was talking about before she even explained.

shadow children

There are so many shadow children in my life. Children, who when I see them or hear about them, I can't help but imagine Gavin doing the same things. In my mind's eye, these children have the shadow of my little man constantly around them. Every thing they do, he should be doing, too. Seeing them run across the room, reach up to their moms, smile, play, hold hands, laugh, talk...and the sad little shadow that follows...

These children have such a special place in my heart, I really can't even describe it. But even so, it hurts SO much to see them and to hear about them. The only thing I can feel is MY child should be doing those things, too! Gavin should be running and talking and playing and smiling and laughing. Gavin should be reaching up to me when he falls and bumps his knee. Gavin should be going to playgroups and learning how to share. I should be playing with my little boy in the front yard. I should be telling stories of the funny, cute things he did this week. I should be telling everyone what his latest achievements and milestones are.

The place where I belonged in the world no longer exists. I miss being a part of that world. I miss being a part of the play dates and the mindless chatter and the camaraderie. I was the mom of a one year old, and now I'm not. I'm the mom of a shadow.

I really, really miss being the mom of a one year old. I miss being Gavin's mom. Its just not fair. It really, really isn't. And no matter what, it can't change. It is what it is. That part is the hardest.

Something

2009-06-04T01:21:00.002-07:00

I didn't even realize the 22nd came and went this month. When I did realize it, I had to count back on my fingers. 8 months. I hate forgetting, but at the same time I am glad that the grief isn't so constant and all-consuming anymore.

I don't want to forget though...I want to do something. Something. I don't know what yet. Something to honor him...something to help others. But whenever I think of something, I realize I've got a someone at home that I can't leave for more than a couple of hours. Right now, thats fine by me... (Do you think mama cats like to smell their kittens as much as I like smelling my little Olivia? Because I can't think of much I'd rather do than sit here all day and night and sniff her hair and her neck and her fingers and toes.) ...but someday soon. I've been inspired so much by the other Angel Child Moms I've met and their various goals and service projects. (I'm going to be adding links to their blogs, too, since sometimes they express thoughts and feelings so much better than I could have. We've realized that it helps those in our lives to see how others are dealing with the grieving process, too.)

They had a memorial service at UCLA on Mother's Day for all the children who died at the hospital in the last year. Obviously we didn't go. First, we didn't get the invitation in the mail until the week before, and second, I don't think we would've wanted to go back there so soon anyway. I do wonder who spoke and what they said. I wonder if his doctors would've been there. I wonder who the other parents were sitting in those awful chairs. I wonder what the programs looked like, and if anyone felt anything when they read Gavin Charles Sprague. I wish I could have been there, without actually being there...Los Angeles... (I just realized how appropriate the name is...City of Angels) ...it doesn't hold so much promise and life for us as it once did. I don't know if I'll ever want to go back.

Mother's Day wasn't all that bad surprisingly enough. In fact, it was pretty nice. We all stayed home from church and Andre made breakfast. He gave me this pendant:

Its an opal...I didn't really get it, until he told me to turn it over...

He bought the stone, designed the setting and had it made for me. Opals are Gavin's birthstone. I love it. Its hard to photograph, but its really shiny and colorful when the light hits it. I just need to figure out what sort of chain to wear it on. I think it needs a super long chain since its so big.

Mom "Award"

2009-05-17T22:33:00.000-07:00

One of my fellow angel baby friends "nominated" me for Mom of the Year "Award" (Thanks, Jen!), in which I have to answer the questions below. I haven't done any silly questionnaires like this in a long time, but I thought I would do it with Gavin in mind.

Here are the rules I have to follow in order to receive the "award":

Admit one thing you feel awful about involving being a mom. Get it off your shoulders. Once you've written it down, you are no longer allowed to feel bad. It's over with, it's in the past. Remember, you're a good mom!

Its hard to narrow it down, but I feel like I was always so tired with Gavin and rushing to get to "the next thing" every day so I could sit down and relax in between. I wish I would've just held him more.

Remind yourself you are a good mom, list seven things you love about your kids, you love doing with your kids, or that your kids love about you. These are the things to remind yourself everyday that you Rock!

1. I loved giving him bubble baths...he loved it so much, too. I would give him a bath after breakfast, right before his morning nap. He would sit in there for up to half an hour while I poured the warm water all over him and washed his hair. Sometimes he would even fall asleep. It was so funny.

2. I loved getting him all snuggled up for his naps, too. I'd put him in a clean onesie after his bath, feed him his bottle and then tuck him into bed with a full tummy, his soft blanket, his little pillow and his stuffed puppy dog. I'd turn on the cool mist humidifier and turn down the lights and I always thought "he must feel like he's in heaven right now!" because it would be so calm and cool in there. He had to deal with so much pain and stress that I just loved making him feel relaxed and comforted.

3. I loved feeding him food...we had to wait so long to give him anything solid, so once we were able to it was a real treat for both of us! It was just fun to see the looks on his face and sneak him sweet treats. I'm glad now that I did, it wouldn't have been very fair for him to have only tasted applesauce and baby cereal. Especially since he had to stomache that yucky formula and so many awful tasting medications every day. I'm glad he got to taste cotton candy and snow cones and jello w/ whipped cream and mint chip popsicle and pumpkin pie.

4. I loved taking him for walks. He loved laying back and just watching the world go by, whether it was at home in our neighborhood or in the hospital.

5. I loved taking pictures of him! He was so cute with those big brown eyes, big smile and round cheeks. He was my cutest baby, hands down. (sorry, other kids!) :P

6. I loved dressing him up in cute outfits. We hardly ever got to do that since we couldn't really take him anywhere, and at home he just wore onesies since it was so hot. And at the hospital it was always just white t-shirts. So any time I did get to take him out (usually to the doctors) I dressed him up in a cute t-shirt, his little denim overalls and his trademark tennis shoe socks. I loved those overalls...pants never fit him because his tummy was too round, so it was always overalls! He looked so cute in them.

7. I loved playing Itsy Bitsy Spider with him...I always emphasized the "washed the spider OUT" part and he would anxiously wait for it and then smile real big.

Send this to five other Mom's of the year that deserve credit for being great moms and remind them that they are the best moms they can be!!

Results

2009-05-11T13:23:00.000-07:00

We got the test results back today...Olivia doesn't have Alpha-1! We're very relieved. Now we can just enjoy our little girl.

Olivia

2009-05-02T07:44:00.001-07:00

I can't believe its almost been 6 weeks already. The first 3 weeks went by soooo slowly, but the last few weeks have gone by so fast. We still don't have the test results back yet...and trust me, when I know- everyone else will know. Its been hard to not worry about it because everyone keeps asking us, and that translates to it being brought up a handful of times every day! I know it probably seems like the kind, concerning thing to do...but you all have my permission to act like it doesn't exist right now (cause that's what we're trying to do).

I predicted correctly that in some ways having Olivia here would be good, and in other ways hard.

The hard: the first few weeks have hurt a lot. It is so confusing...she reminds me so much of Gavin. The sounds she makes, the angles of her face, the little movements, the baby stuff being out again, the nursing, the diapers, the crying. Sometimes it feels like a second chance, that it really is him, and this time could be different...maybe? I have to consciously remind myself every time I walk into the bedroom that "this is Olivia, not Gavin". I keep saying "him" instead of "her". Its like an arrow through the heart when I accidently call her the nicknames I used to call Gavin. Sometimes I just hold her and cry because I wish it was him. Sometimes I pretend that it is. Sometimes I resent that its not. It doesn't help that I'm getting little sleep and I am up alone with her all night. It leaves a lot of time to think. And that is definitely not a good thing.

Its hard taking her to her pediatrician appointments. It brings back so many memories. I sit in the room and think, "Gavin breathed this air. He touched this bench. He crawled on that table. He looked at that picture. I read him that book. He was alive in this room." I do that everywhere I go. He is everywhere, and he is nowhere at all. I miss him.

The good: I actually smile every single day now. I smile. And not just a smile that you do, a smile that you feel, all the way in the depths of your soul. We all do. That is amazing to me. The kids are sooooo happy. As soon as they wake up in the morning, its "Where's Olivia?". As soon as they get home from school (well, right after they wash their hands- they never forget), its "Where's Olivia?". Its fun having a little girl again...tiny bows and dresses and pink, pink, everything pink. Its getting easier to look at her and just see her. She's becoming her own person. As few as these things are, it feels like it outweights all the hard things. At least most of the time.

overdue

2009-04-07T14:48:00.000-07:00

This post is long overdue...but I just didn't really feel like committing myself to it, for reasons I'll explain below. Most of our family and friends know by now (I hope so anyway!) that I am expecting baby #4 (a girl) to our family. This may not be surprising, but the fact that I'm actually due on April 12th (Easter Day) might be. But since I've delivered all my babies early (5 weeks, 3 weeks, and 10 days) it could be any day now***.

***Well, I should've posted this sooner, but I just couldn't get myself to do it. I feel like I'm somehow going to jinx the situation by speaking about it. Olivia Alice was born on March 25th. So far she's doing fine. We're still waiting for test results. The kids are loving having a baby in the house again. For Dre and me its been good in some ways, and really hard in other ways. But its nice to have a smooshy, lovable baby to distract all of us.***

Before you start counting dates in your head, we found out I was expecting back in August, so we knew while we were in the hospital with Gavin. Obviously this wasn't "planned". And as you can imagine, it has been very emotional and complicated for us. I don't want to get into too many details, but sufficeth to say, it is hard to celebrate a life when you are mourning a death. Of course there is a small piece of us that is excited to hold and love a little baby again, but this is overshadowed by our fears and grieving at the moment.

Gavin's liver condition was genetic, therefore this baby has the same chances of being born with Alpha-1...25% that she won't have it at all, 50% that she will be a carrier, 25% that she will have it. Although having Alpha-1 doesn't mean you will need a liver transplant (Gavin's condition was at the worst end of the spectrum), it is still obviously a scary thing for us. They will test the baby as soon as she is born, and we'll have results in 2-6 weeks. Honestly, I feel as if I'm marching to the gallows and I won't know until I get there if I will be pardoned. And spending time in a hospital is pretty much the last thing I'd rather do right now. I don't know how I am going to be affected by all of this, but Im not looking forward to it at all. It is going to be a very sensitive and hard situation for us, and generally, we don't really like talking about it, and I'm not sure that will change anytime soon.

I do think that having this baby will help us in our grieving in some ways, at the very least by giving us something to concentrate on. But this is not going to "make it all better". I suspect that there will not be a dramatic change in our grieving. We are still going to feel the horrible pain of not having Gavin, perhaps even more acutely than before. So we just hope that everyone remains sensitive to our grieving process, and our future fears, even while trying to celebrate this new life.

6 months

2009-03-22T10:36:00.000-07:00

I've dreaded this day, and now its here. 6 months. How is it that every day, all day, my mind STILL refuses to accept this? That every morning I still wake up and for a split second I have hope that it was all just a bad dream. That when the reality hits, its like being punched in the stomach...every. single. morning. That all throughout the day my inner voice cries in the back of my mind..."This can't be real, this can't be my life, I can't do this, My God, how could this have happened???" That my mind still reels at the thought, the world tilts on its side and I feel physcially ill. I still scream "WHY?". I still blame myself. I still wish for my existence to just end...not to die...just to not...exist anymore, to not feel this pain anymore, or have to think these thoughts anymore.

It just won't STOP. Sometimes I feel crazy. I thought by now I'd be past the *constant* thoughts and pain. Last night I could barely breathe, one of those on the floor cry sessions. Some days I just don't know how I'm going to keep going. How does one live through the agonizing pain of heartbreak over and over and over? At some point you think your heart would just give up and stop beating, and yet it just continues on...the pain searing through without mercy or end in sight. Each day begins again, life goes on not caring that my precious little boy was left behind. I look back to him pleading while my feet unwillingly carry me further and further away from him...

I miss him, I miss him, oh, I MISS HIM. I want to look at his pictures and watch his videos, but I'm too afraid of the pain that I know will accompany it. I should be buying him a cute Easter suit and a book with baby bunnies and chicks in it and debating whether or not its time for his first haircut because his pretty curls are getting too long...

Pslam 22
1 My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? why art thou so far from helping me, and from the words of my roaring?
2 O my God, I cry in the daytime, but thou hearest not; and in the night season, and am not silent.
3 But thou art holy, O thou that inhabitest the praises of Israel.
4 Our fathers trusted in thee: they trusted, and thou didst deliver them.
5 They cried unto thee, and were delivered: they trusted in thee, and were not confounded...
9 Thou art he that took me out of the womb: thou didst make me hope...
11 Be not far from me...
14 I am poured out like water, all my bones are out of joint: my heart is like wax; it is melted in the midst of me.
15 My strength is dried up; my tongue cleaveth to my jaws; and thou hast brought me into the dust of death...
19 But be not thou far from me, O Lord: O my strength, haste thee to help me.
20 Deliver my soul from the sword...
21 Save me from the lion’s mouth: for thou hast heard me...

"Men don't cry"

2009-03-08T18:22:00.000-07:00

It must be very difficult
To be a man in grief,
Since "men don't cry" and "men are strong"
No tears can bring relief.

It must be very difficult
To stand up to the test
And field the calls and visitors
So she can get some rest.

They always ask if she's all right
And what she's going through.
But seldom take his hand and ask,
"My friend, but how are you?"

He hears her crying in the night
And thinks his heart will break.
He dries her tears and comforts her,
But "stays strong" for her sake.

It must be very difficult
To start each day anew.
And try to be so very brave-
He lost his baby, too.

~Eileen Knight Hagemeister

Baby of Mine

2009-03-04T08:55:00.001-07:00

"Mary's Lullaby" by Crystal, family friend

This morning I literally woke up with this song in my mind. I could hear the singing in my head as I opened my eyes. I got dressed and when I walked out of the bedroom, it suddenly struck me what song it was and ugh...its not been a good morning. :'(

I think it was because I drove past the Temple last night and saw the Easter Pageant stage all set up. Who knows...maybe I had been singing it all last night, too, and didn't even realize it.

It also dawned on me that I will not be going back to the Easter Pageant for a very long time. I didn't really think about that when I chose this song for Gavin's funeral. I also felt a little bad when I realized that everyone else who attended the funeral will probably be reminded of it during the pageant now.

garden

2009-02-24T10:23:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we finally cleaned up the flower beds in front of our house. I have been avoiding it for awhile...I just can't look at any of it and not wonder if thats where the fungus came from. It was one that is commonly found in soil. Was it the mini rose bush by the door? Or was it the big brick flower bed? He loved playing by both of them in those last couple of months. We'd go outside every afternoon and I'd turn on the hose and let him crawl around and play in the water. He loved messing with the rose bush....he loved holding onto the little brick wall of the flower bed to help him walk around....he loved digging around in the leaves and finding sticks and rocks. Was it that??? Why, why, why did I let him play in there???

The entire time we were pulling weeds and scooping out leaves I just kept thinking, I am breathing in the same, stupid fungus that killed him. And it reminded me of this girl I used to play with when I was in 2nd grade...one day she said "God made dirt, so dirt don't hurt" and I remembered how stupid I thought she was for saying that. I think I told her so, and that God made bears and bears hurt people, so obviously it wasn't true.

...God made dirt, so dirt don't hurt...

Ugh. Its just so stupid. I can't stand that something so simple ended up killing him. Sometimes I just want to pull all the flowers out and destroy the whole thing.

my baby

2009-02-20T22:43:00.000-07:00

I miss my baby so very much tonight. I miss how he would rest his hand on my cheek when I would hold him on my hip. I miss the soft little curls of hair on the back of his neck. I miss how he would try to put his tiny hands in my mouth so I would "bite" them. I miss how he would try to grab my glasses and I'd grab his hand real quick and say "Nooo, silly! Those are MINE!" and he would laugh and try again. I miss stroking the back of his head while he slept against my chest. I miss tucking him in when he went to sleep and seeing his precious little face snuggled into the pillow, with his upturned nose and long, curly eyelashes and angel lips. I miss watching him silently watch the world around him...those big brown eyes seeing every detail. I miss pulling him around in his wagon and how he charmed and flirted with anyone who happened to look his way. I miss feeding him breakfast...there were so many foods we didn't get to try.

I just MISS him...I WANT MY BABY!!!!

My heart just aches for him, any little piece of him...his smell, his touch, his smile, his laugh, his wave. It hurts so much...I can't remember him, can't love him, can't cherish him without also letting in the despair, the grief, the knife of pain. Its so unfair that my sweetest memories are now laced with poison. I try not to remember, I try not to forget. I try to savor the sweetness...while having to swallow the bitter cup. I can only hold little pieces of my baby, just for the briefest of moments, before it all explodes into a monsterous, aching, blackhole.

Baby, I wish I could hold you in my arms all night and all day...carry your precious memory close to my heart so I could never forget, not even for a second. It just hurts...it just hurts too much. I wish I didn't have to shut your bedroom door, avoid your pictures, avoid your memory. When will I get to have the joy without pain? No acceptable answers. I need you now!!! Its just not fair...my irrational side begs, pleads, screams "Please let him come back to me! Please don't make me live this life! Please!!!" No acceptable replies.

I go to bed, one more night...one more night with empty arms, a hollowed heart, and broken dreams. One more night of tears on my pillow and bitter regret. One more night in an endless stream of nights with you not with me. Those who die wanted to live, those who live want to die. Can life be anymore cruel?

Baby, tonight, I will let you in. Break my heart open, let me bleed. Let the tears fall. Anything!Just stay with me, just for tonight...crawl into my arms while I sleep, soothe my wounds, help me heal my soul. Promise me you are here somewhere...promise me I will hold you again...

A Sparrow Fell

2009-02-12T13:06:00.000-07:00

I don't usually like poems about grief, they are too...cliche and trying to pretend everything is all better in the end. I don't like that. But I liked this one, at least most of it. I changed some words though and put in Gavin's name instead. The original version was written by G. Bradford in memory of a little girl named Janet who was murdered on her way to school.

A Sparrow Fell

A sparrow fell- and no one heard.
Nobody cared. It was just a bird.
From all the numberless flitting throng
Of sparrows, who could miss one song?
But God leaned down and whispered, "I care.
It was one of my sparrows, and I was there."

A little boy, all sunshine and laughter,
(and sometimes scoldings, with kisses after!)
And hurts to smooth over, and deeds to applaud-
A little boy fell! Where were you God?
A little boy fell! God, why weren't you there?
Is it only for sparrows and such that you care?

If you're God at all- then you could have prevented
This nightmare of pain! So you must have consented.
I've always believed You were loving and good.
I'd like to believe still- if only I could.
But God, if You love me, how can You allow
Such unbearable pain as I'm feeling right now?

Such helplessness- hopelessness- bitter regret-
So may tears that have fallen; and yet
So many more that are still locked inside.
Oh, God- out there somewhere- have You never cried?
I'm not even sure, anymore, that You're real.
But if You are, God- Do You care how I feel?

* * * *

Beloved, I care! In the midst of your grief,
In the midst of your stricken and crumbling belief,
In the midst of the blackness of total despair,
In the midst of your questioning, Child- I am there.
In the midst! Not far off in some vague fifth dimension,
But here, where you are, giving you My attention...

My constant attention- and not just today.
Since before you were born, I have loved you this way.
You're important to Me. Every hair on your head
I have numbered Myself! Can these tears that you shed
Go uncounted? Unnoticed? Nay, Child; here I stand
Close enough that each teardrop falls into My hand.

Nor am I a stranger to anguish- to loss.
My own Son was taken one day- by a cross.
I know what you suffer. I know what you'll gain.
If you'll let Me walk with you into your pain.
I'll carry your grief, and your sorrow I'll bear.
You've only to reach out your hand- I am there!

Fear nothing for Gavin. Your dear little boy
Is safe in My house- and all Heaven's a-joy
With the ring of his laughter, and his quick eager smile,
And the things he's saving to show you- "after awhile."
Yes, I could have prevented- but Child, you can't see
With My perfect wisdom. Trust Gavin to me.

Of course you will miss him, but while you are weeping,
Remember, its only his body that's sleeping.
His "self" is awake. Wide awake. As I said,
I am God of the living, not God of the dead.
He trusted Me, and My sure Word comes to pass:
"Who believes shall not die." That includes your lad.

Let me walk with you now, through the long, heavy days;
Let Me slowly begin changing heartache to praise.
Take hold of My hand, Child: Take hold of My love.
I will lead you to joys that you yet know not of.
Your faith may be weak, and your trust incomplete,
But I'll not walk too fast for your stumbling feet.

Broken

2009-02-06T01:26:00.001-07:00

Broken by Lifehouse

The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight
Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time
I am here still waiting though I still have my doubts
I am damaged at best, like you've already figured out

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain there is healing
In your name I find meaning
So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on
I'm barely holdin' on to you

The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head
I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead
And I still see your reflection inside of my eyes
That are looking for purpose, they're still looking for life

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain is the healing
In your name I find meaning
So I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'), I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'), I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin')
I'm barely holdin' on to you

I'm hangin' on another day
Just to see what you will throw my way
And I'm hangin' on to the words you say
You said that I will, will be ok

The broken lights on the freeway left me here alone
I may have lost my way now, having forgot my way home

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain, there is healing
In your name, I find meaning
So I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'), I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'), I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin')
I'm barely holdin' on to you
I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'), I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'), I'm barely holdin' on to you

This last week has been really, really hard. I usually have a few days in between breakdowns where I can push the emotions under the surface...outrun them for a little while before they catch up. But this last week its been every.single.day. I don't know why.

I still can't accept what has happened. My senses REFUSE to. I still hear him crying. I still catch myself walking past his door quietly so I won't "wake" him. Thoughts and memories slip into my head all day long, and my mind reels...this just cannot be happening to me. It cannot have happened! This CANNOT be my life! I CANNOT DO THIS.

How can he be gone? It just doesn't feel real...

sleep

2009-02-01T22:38:00.001-07:00

As I was waking up this morning, just for a split second, I thought that it was all just a really bad dream. And then I woke up. :'(

I don't like waking up.

church

2009-01-27T00:51:00.000-07:00

Going to church is really, really hard now. I dread going every.single.week. And while I'm there, I am only counting the seconds until I can escape through those doors again. I don't know what other people think about this, but part of me wonders (and worries) if they think its the "religious" aspect, and its not.

The main reason why its so upsetting to me is because part of going to church is gathering your whole family, with everyone looking and acting their best, and sitting happily all together. This is all I see when I am at church: everyone else with their whole families...smiling...happy...together...whole. My friends' arms are full as they tend to their babies...walking in and out of the foyer, kissing little foreheads, trying to get them to smile and laugh, bouncing them on their hips around the edges of the chapel, digging through diaper bags to locate binkies and crackers, gazing into their eyes and nuzzling their noses, clasping their hands together and playing patty-cake, smiling lovingly at their pride and joys...

I sit.

I sit and I mourn my empty arms that have nothing to do any more but stay quietly folded. I sit and I try to keep my eyes down so I can't see anything. I sit and I try not to listen to anything so I can't hear any cooing or crying. I sit and I try not to let the tears fall into my aching, empty lap. It wounds me in ways I cannot possibly describe politely. Let's just say no one is my friend on Sunday.

Another reason it is so hard to sit through church is because being there makes me feel the Spirit, and that makes me *feel* in general, and when I feel, I feel sad and angry. And I don't want to feel sad and angry...I don't want to feel ANYTHING. I try to stay numb as long as I possibly can. I spend my days running and running and running from my emotions, distracting myself in whatever ways I can. And when I am at church just *sitting* with so many triggers around me, they catch up and swallow me whole.

It is pretty much all I can do to keep breathing until the service ends. Honestly, I hardly hear a word that is said during the talks because I am concentrating so hard on keeping my emotions in check. I don't want to see anyone. I don't want to make small talk with anyone. I don't want to smile. I don't want to act happy. I don't want to be there, PERIOD. All I really want to do is run out of there and scream my head off and kick the crap out of something. In fact, a large portion of my trying-to-ignore-everything thoughts consist of wondering how far I would actually have to go before no one in the chapel heard me. But instead, I sit. and wait. and ache. until I can go home and crash into my bed and finally let the waves drown me.

Closets

2009-01-15T08:57:00.000-07:00

My good friend told me this little "scenario" and I think it captures what we're going through pretty well.

Sometimes its hard for people to see us suffering, and they want so badly to help us, but they have no idea how. A lot of times their attempts just pressure us to grieve the way others think we should be grieving, and that makes it even harder and more painful. I don't envy our friends and family in that aspect, I know it can't be easy. Another one of my friends described it as watching her friends being thrown into a pit of fire and being burned alive, and not being able to do anything about it. That seems pretty accurate from my end anyway.

But think of it this way...you know when you clean out a closet that is WAY past due? You have to pull every single item out of the closet and in the process, you end up making a HUGE mess. You have to sort through every item individually...decide whether its still useful, or if it doesnt fit anymore, if its trash or if it can be donated. You end being surrounded by mountainous piles of STUFF. And sometimes it gets so overwhelming that you have to leave the room, shut the door, and leave it be for awhile until you can muster up the motivation to tackle it again. And it ALWAYS ends up taking MUCH longer than you thought it would to finish it!

If anyone came into your house and happened to unsuspectingly open that bedroom door, they'd gasp, "What is going on in this room?!". No one would know that the piles have any meaning, or what method there is to your madness...to them it would just look like one HUGE, terrible mess. Even just looking at it would feel so awful to them that they would know you must feel a million times worse. And as they are your friend and care about you, they would probably offer to put everything away for you. But as TEMPTING as that is, you know no one else can do it for you, because no one else knows what is still useful, or what still fits, or what you haven't touched in 5 years and needs to be thrown away. And they don't know how to organize it and put it back in the closet in the way that is the most helpful to you. It might be a quick fix, but in the end YOU are the one who has to do it YOURSELF. So you have to decline their help. The only thing anyone can really do to help is to sit and talk with you while you trudge on.

That is exactly how this feels to me. I have to pull every single thought, idea, feeling, emotion, memory, belief, etc out of my head and look at them each individually. Only it takes a LOT longer to figure out if its still useful to me or needs to be trashed. I have to take them out and sort through them, again and again and again and again. And to everyone else on the outside looking in, I look like a HUGE mess! Through that process of trying to figure out whats still useful, I have to think and say a lot of things that worry people. But it is the ONLY way for me to truly sort through them. Sometimes it gets so exhausting that I have to just leave the mess and forget it for awhile.

That mess scares people, too. They feel how painful it is and they just want me to be happy. They want to tell me what I need and what I don't, so that I can quickly put it all away and be done with it and no one has to look at it anymore. And as TEMPTING as that is, (and trust me, I HAVE attempted to do that) it just DOESN'T work! Because the next time all these feelings and thoughts come up again, I realize that the way they were sorted doesn't work for me and is not helpful. So then I have to pull it all out again and start over. In the end, only *I* can figure out what I need to keep and what makes sense to ME.

The only thing anyone can really do to help is to come keep me company and sit and talk to me (but mostly LISTEN) while I try to sort through this HUGE mess. Sometimes suggestions can be helpful, but mostly understand that what seems helpful to you, may not be helpful for me to hear (at least right now), and in fact, can even hurt more than help. Its not even necessarily what is said, because sometimes what helps one day, doesn't help the next...and it really depends on the frame of mind I'm in at the time.

But the hardest part of all, is to not feel worried and concerned when I say or do things that don't seem "right" to you. It may seem like the kind thing to do when you express your worry to me, but it just makes me feel like I'm not grieving "the right way"...or that you don't have faith in me to work through it. And as soon as I start feeling that, I don't want to open up anymore because I get worried that they'll be even MORE "worried" about me, and then I'll have to worry myself with making them not worried...or I feel like they think less of me or are freaked out by me.

If this all seems really complicated and overwhelming and impossible to you, well, it IS. And we feel that frustration on TOP of everything else! (Welcome to "Life Sucks 101" and by the way, no one gets a study guide!) When in doubt, I guess its better to just say nothing and give us a hug instead. Or bring ice cream. Ice cream is always appreciated.

A Grief Observed

2008-12-12T08:16:00.000-07:00

C.S. Lewis kept a journal, "A Grief Observed", of his feelings and thoughts after his wife died. Andre and I have on it audio and we listened to it a lot those first few weeks. I was so awestruck at how he knew exactly what I was feeling...and somehow he managed to put it to words, and to actually make it sound sensible, no less!

Now I have the book to actually hold in my hands. Sometimes I just weep when I read it...because it reminds me that I'm not alone, or crazy, or broken forever. Just knowing that someone else knows and understands gives me hope that someday, somehow I will escape this black hole.

"We were even told, 'Blessed are they that mourn,' and I accepted it. I've got nothing that I hadn't bargained for. Of course, it is different when the thing happens to oneself, not to others, and in reality, not imagination."

"Bridge-players tell me that there must be some money on the game ‘or else people won’t take it seriously.’ Apparently it’s like that. Your bid – for God or no God, for a good God or the Cosmic Sadist, for eternal life or nonentity – will not be serious if nothing much is staked on it. And you will never discover how serious it was until the stakes are raised horribly high, until you find that you are playing not for counters or for sixpences but for every penny you have in the world. Nothing less will shake a man – or at any rate a man like me – out of his merely verbal thinking and his merely notional beliefs. He has to be knocked silly before he comes to his senses. Only torture will bring out the truth. Only under torture does he discover it himself ."

"Only a real risk tests the reality of a belief"

"I thought I trusted the rope until it mattered to me whether it would bear me. Now it matters and I find I didn't."

"Where is God? Go to him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain, and what do you find? A door slammed in your face, and a sound of bolting and double-bolting on the inside. After that, silence."

"Talk to me about the truth of religion and I'll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I'll listen submissively. But don't come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall suspect that you don't understand."

"Sometimes it is hard not to say, “God forgive God.’ Sometimes it is hard to say so much. But if our faith is true, He didn’t. He crucified Him."

"I once read the sentence 'I lay awake all night with a toothache, thinking about the toothache and about lying awake.' That's true to life. Part of every misery is, so to speak, the misery's shadow or reflection: the fact that you don't merely suffer but have to keep on thinking about the fact that you suffer. I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief."

"The more we believe that God hurts only to heal, the less we can believe that there is any use in begging for tenderness. A cruel man night be bribed-might grow tired of this vile sport-might have a temporary fit of mercy, as alcoholics have fits of sobriety. But suppose that what you are up against is a surgeon whose intentions are wholly good. The kinds and more conscientious he is, the more inexorably he will go on cutting. If he yielded to your entreaties, if he stopped before the operation was complete, all the pain up to that point would have been useless. But is it credible that such extremities of torture should be necessary for us? Well, take your choice. The tortures occur. If they are unnecessary, then there is no God or a bad one. If there is a good God, then these tortures are necessary. For no even moderately good Being could possibly inflict or permit them if they weren't? Either way, we're for it. What do people mean when they say, "I am not afraid of God because I know He is good"? Have they never even been to a dentist?"

"Who still thinks there is some device (if only he could find it) which will make pain not to be pain. It doesn’t really matter whether you grip the arms of the dentist’s chair or let your hands lie in your lap. The drill drills on."

"I see people, as they approach me, trying to make up their minds whether they'll 'say something about it' or not. I hate if they do...and if they don't."

"It is hard to have patience with people who say 'There is no death' or 'Death doesn't matter.' There is death. And whatever is matters. And whatever happens has consequences, and it and they are irrevocable and irreversible. You might as well say that birth doesn't matter."

"What pitiable cant to say, ‘She will live forever in my memory!’ Live? That is exactly what she won’t do."

"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear... At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says...And no one ever told me about the laziness of grief."

"…there is a spread over everything a vague sense of wrongness, of something amiss... Will there come a time when I no longer ask why the world is like a mean street, because I shall take the squalor as normal? Does grief finally subside into boredom tinged by faint nausea."

"Did you know, dear, how much you took away with you when you left? You have stripped me even of my past, even of the things we never shared. I was wrong to say the stump was recovering from the pain of the amputation. I was deceived because it has so many ways to hurt me that I discover them only one by one."

"And grief still feels like fear. Perhaps, more strictly, like suspense. Or like waiting; just hanging about waiting for something to happen. It gives life a permanently provisional feeling. It doesn’t seem worth starting anything. I can’t settle down. I yawn, I fidget, I smoke too much. Up till this I always had too little time. Now there is nothing but time. Almost pure time, empty successiveness."

"God has not been trying an experiment on my faith or love in order to find out their quality. He knew it already. It was I who didn't. In this trial He makes us occupy the dock, the witness box, and the bench all at once. He always knew that my temple was a house of cards. His only way of making me realize the fact was to knock it down."

"Fate (or whatever it is) delights to produce a great capacity and then frustrate it."

"Didn’t people dispute once whether the final vision of God was more an act of intelligence or of love? That is probably another of the nonsense questions."

"And so, perhaps, with God. I have gradually been coming to feel that the door is no longer shut and bolted. Was it my own frantic need that slammed it in my face? The time when there is nothing at all in your soul except a cry for help may be just the time when God can’t give it: you are like the drowning man who can’t be helped because he clutches and grabs. Perhaps your own reiterated cries deafen you to the voice you hoped to hear."

"Aren't all these notes the senseless writings of a man who won't accept the fact that there is nothing we can do with suffering except to suffer it?"

song

2008-11-27T05:05:00.002-07:00

I heard this song last night and I think it pretty much sums up my life right about now:

Colbie Caillat "Older"

Waited all my life for this day to come
I feel like letting go
Life goes on
Wasting no more time
So much to be done
Everything works out
So they say
Over my shoulder
It's tough getting older
Yeah, yeah

Seems like nothing is black and white anymore
Shades of gray and I feel a weight over my shoulder
It's tough getting older
I always thought that I knew where I'd want to go
Now I'm here and I find that I'm still getting colder
It's kinda tough getting older

Here before my eyes
Many roads ahead
Time for me to choose one way now
If I take a chance
What lies down the road
Feeling so confused
Turned around
On and on
On and on
Yeah, yeah'

Seems like nothing is black and white anymore
Shades of gray and I feel a weight over my shoulder
It's tough getting older
I always thought that I knew where I'd want to go
Now I'm here and I find that I'm still getting colder
It's kinda tough getting older

Waited all my life for this day to come
I feel like letting go
Life goes on
Over my shoulder
It's tough getting older
Yeah, yeah'

Seems like nothing is black and white anymore
Shades of gray and I feel a weight over my shoulder
It's tough getting older
I always thought that I knew where I'd want to go
Now I'm here and I find that I'm still getting colder
It's kinda tough getting older

Seems like nothing is black and white anymore
Shades of gray and I feel a weight over my shoulder
It's tough getting older

Its kind of "funny"...my counselor and I have talked about 'gray' a lot. Nothing about losing a child is black and white, she says to find something gray and hang it up in our house so I can look at it often to remind me of that.

It also reminded me of a night shortly after......I was out with my friend and she was telling me about all these other people she knew who had lost a child or dealt with some awful tragedy. It was just so depressing! I kept thinking, being an adult sucks. What is the friggin' point??? Everyone just hurts and bad stuff happens to everyone, and now I hear about all of it, all of the time.

Its like when you are going through something momentous, like getting married or having your first baby...everyone identifies and bonds with you by saying "oh, my {fill in the blank: sister, friend, mom, cousin, neighbor} is {fill in the blank: getting married next month, is expecting a baby girl, just bought a house, too!}. Well, now I hear story after story after story of so-and-so who lost their child by {take your pick of horrific accidents}. On one hand, it does kind of help...knowing I'm not alone in this journey. One the other hand, its really, really, really depressing when I stop and think about it. Every new story...another mother in such agony, another sweet little baby laid to rest in the ground instead of in her arms....

Its so hard to not wonder where and how God is through all of this. Why do some get their 'miracles' and others do not? What are 'tender mercies' and are they really Heavenly Father reaching forth His hand to help lighten our burden...or just coincidences that people use to try and find something good in something bad? I keep reading about them...if we had any tender mercies in the way Gavin died, I am not strong enough to recognize them. With the way I feel now, I can't imagine that I ever will be. Why would He care about all these seemingly little everyday things going on in people's lives, and then let something so huge happen, and in such a horrible way? Where were our tender mercies? Because I can list out a TON of things that made it SO much worse, things that could have been "lightened"....things we could have been "spared" from so as not to have that little bit of extra pain.

And not just Gavin...things like this are happening everywhere. My favorite go-to place: Africa. Take your pick of injustices and cruelties. Where is the Heavenly Father that we LDS-ers like to bear our testimony about therew? Where are their tender mercies? Where are their Visting Teachers who just "had a feeling" and showed up on their doorstep with fresh-baked bread or whatever else. Does He really care about the "bad day" of so-and-so in sunny Mesa, AZ enough to send them a little "tender mercy"...but then allow another to be thrown into a pit of fire? I just can't fathom it. It drives me crazy. I hate those two words right now. Throw in 'miracle' for good measure, too. Because they all lead back to the same stupid question...."WHY???"

And finally...will I ever stop playing this game of "drive myself insane by running circles around all the questions that can never, ever be answered"???? Its not that I have lost my testimony, its just that its currently in a million pieces and I have absolutely no idea how to fit them back together with all of these new pieces. All the good ole, standard gospel "feel good" answers just don't...well, make me feel any good (I'm sure there will be a post on *those* sometime in the future). I am far from the "Primary/Garden of Eden" part of my life. And let me tell you, trial by fire...this is it. All the gospel fluff has been burned away, and now the rest is being beaten with a hot iron sledgehammer. I read a book on grieving called "Jesus Wept" and this is a passage from it:

"Grief work will likely become the hardest work we will ever do. It will extract more time, patience, and energy than most of us expect or feel capable of enduring."

I doubt in the end my testimony is going to be very pretty or fluffy, but its sure going to be a helluva lot stronger.

time

2008-11-22T07:20:00.000-07:00

About this time in the morning, 2 months ago, I received the phone call from Andre that was the beginning of the end. I was sleeping at the hotel, he had stayed at the hospital that night. As soon as my cell phone rang, I knew...I *knew* it was bad news. My stomach instantly knotted up. All of his levels had gotten worse overnight. I just kept saying "Why? No! WHY? NO! NO!" I still feel like screaming when I hear cell phones ring, especially if its the same ringtone. I had to change mine afterwards.

I still don't understand. Why did Gavin have three good days only to crash in the end? Why did God give us hope? That crash, it was so much worse because of it. It was falling from such a higher place than I was only days before. I BELIEVED.

Today is going to be hard. As much as I try, I know I will be glancing at the clock all day, remembering what I was doing at that exact moment. Willing the hours to stop moving, willing the inevitable to go away. Inwardly screaming at Time and Fate and God and Death to stay away from him, from our family, from me. WHY? NO! PLEASE! NO!!!

Baby, I miss you so much. I'm so sorry.

Gavin's Story published

2008-11-18T07:54:00.001-07:00

One of the writers at the American Liver Foundation heard about Gavin's story and wrote an article about him. It's on the front page of their website:

http://www.liverfoundation.org/

break

2008-11-15T13:32:00.001-07:00

This week has been really hard. I have lost motivation for a lot of things...I'm just too sad. I try to go to the store, but all I see are the things I *would* have bought for Gavin. Half the time I think "Oh, Gavin would LOVE this!" before realizing he's no longer here. I had been trying to find the perfect mobile to hang in the corner of his bedroom, one to match his rocket ship bedding. And I finally found one...the most perfect one ever...inexpensive, crafty, sparkley, the perfect colors, a little do-it-yourself kit from Martha Stewart. I just stood there and tried not to cry. He would have really loved it. I bought it anyway. I don't know why. I just couldn't leave it there. Maybe I am a sucker for punishment...I guess I can always go put it on his grave. :( It really, really sucks to replace all those urges to buy him something cute, with "what can we put on his grave?" It hurts so much...I try to get the kids involved, so they can feel good about leaving something nice there...but inside I just cry. I don't want to buy my baby things for his grave.

One night was particularly rough, another huge tsunami. They start out so small, but I can feel it coming and it just gets bigger and bigger until I can't control it anymore. Its terrifying to feel so overwhelmed and helpless like that. I just don't understand why this had to happen. Why would Heavenly Father allow this? Why have there been so many things in my life that have been so hard? They didn't have to be this way...Heavenly Father could've stopped them. So, why?

If the gospel and His plan is all about families and eternity and sharing the gospel, then why didn't He leave Gavin here with us? We would have taught him well, we would have raised him up in the gospel, he would have been happy...and his children, and their children would have followed on that path, too. Isn't that the point of being here? So why?

If Heavenly Father loves me, why wouldn't He have blessed us? If I was trying to do what's right, why didn't He answer our prayers? Did we not ask the right way? Did we not pray enough? Were we not spiritually in tune? Why didn't we get any promptings? Why didn't the doctors get any promptings? Why couldn't this have been caught before it was too late? Gavin didn't have to get a sore from that tape on his skin, it didn't have to get infected, that fungus didn't have to get in, it didn't have to spread to his lungs- all of it, He could have stopped it. He could have prevented it. So why?

I don't feel like this is making me stronger or better, its breaking me. Its breaking my heart, my soul, my hope, my faith...how do I put something back together when its been shattered into a million pieces? I have gone through so many different trials in my life, and NOTHING compares to this...NOTHING. Not having divorced parents, not having my dad die, not getting pregnant at a young age, not being divorced, not being a single mom with two small children, not having a child who is sick...NONE of that pain even comes close to this. None of those things made me lose hope for a better life to come. It hurt while I was going through it, but I always had hope that things would get better.

Now its too easy to say "what other bad thing is going to happen? what's next?". I am scared now...I don't look forward to the rest of my life, I fear it. Why would Heavenly Father want me to feel this way? With every trial I have been through, I refused to let it keep me down, eventually I managed to find my way back out again. Its made me scrappy and resilient, and I'm not upset about that anymore.

But this...this is too much. Doesn't He know that this is too much for a Mother to bear? Thats its impossible to put the pieces back together after something like this? I can't just move on from this and find something better...I have lost pieces of my heart forever, I can't ever fix it. They will always be gone. This is just too much. Its so hard for me to pray most of the time...when God, He is the one with the control, He is the one who let this happen. Its hard to even address Him without thinking "WHY?????" Its like I'm keeping my distance, because if I get too close again something else horrible is going to happen.

This week, time felt like it had stopped and my suffering wouldn't ever get better. I thought I was doing so well the last couple of weeks, and then BAM, it overtook me again. Its just so disheartening. I don't want to feel this way...I just don't know how not to. I try reading all the books, thinking about Emma and all her lost babies, or my Great-Grandma who lost two of her little ones, or other moms of angel children who are going through this or are further out and seem to be doing better. Sometimes it helps for a little bit, but the hurt never really truly goes away. Its always under the surface waiting for something to pull it out again.

Nothing feels big enough to help heal this wound. Nothing feels big enough to fill this empty place in my soul. And yet somewhere inside, I know that that is what the Atonement is for. That nobody, NOBODY knows exactly how this feels except for Christ. He knows. He knows. I know that can help somehow, I just don't know how to make it work for this, for me, right now. So many of the moms who have gone through this before me talk about how it has helped them. I just can't even begin to picture it right now. Its not even just out of my reach, its a million miles away. I just wish I could be enveloped in it right now.

The other night Andre brought up the Mayan Calendar (ya know, how "they" say the world will end in 2012 because thats when their calendar ends? He likes learning about that weird stuff, don't ask.) Usually it really upsets me when he brings stuff like that up. I don't like thinking about the Second Coming, why would I want that to happen? I've got a life and my family and I need more time! I want to raise my kids! I don't want to go through all that scary stuff! So on election night he says "Whoever is elected will be President in 2012" Uh-huh, thats nice, dear...then he said, in a tone much too serious for our usual bantering, "Well...I hope it is the Second Coming" I was about to retort my usual reply when I suddenly stopped and thought...Oh! We'll see Gavin again...Oh!!!

Suddenly I'm not scared anymore of the "end of the world". I'm more scared to live through the rest of the trials that are lined up for me. I would want nothing more than for this life as we know it to stop and for everything to be happy and good and beautiful and to see my baby. I don't care about all the things that used to be so important to me, all the Earthly life experiences I wanted to enjoy...none of it interests me now. None of it will be the same without Gavin here anyway. I wonder if this is what all the old people feel like...when so many of their loved ones have already passed on before them? Do they look towards their death with excitement, with peace? I know this probably sounds disturbing to those who just don't "get it" (and I pray you never do), but rest assured that although the thought of passing on and seeing my baby again makes my heart sing, I have not thought about taking matters into my own hands. (that would require motivation...just kidding.) See, I even have a sense of humor...dark, but there.

I know I need to focus more on prayer and trying to connect somehow...it just feels too big right now. Although I guess it beats the alternative of suffering through this alone, no matter how scary it is to take that plunge again. It reminds me of that poem I found awhile back:

Come to the edge.
We can't. We're afraid.
Come to the edge.
We can't. We will fall!
Come to the edge.
And they came.
And he pushed them.
And they flew.

-- Guillaume Apollinaire

Wherever you go

2008-11-12T18:50:00.000-07:00

Television is another of one those things that is now perilous. Thank goodness we have digital cable now and it says what the show is along the bottom of the screen before the image actually comes up. I flip through the channels as fast as I can, pausing only to briefly read the title:

E.R. {flip}
Grey's Anotomy {flip}
Heroes {flip}
House {flip}
A Baby Story {flip}
Law & Order: SVU {flip}
Law & Order: CSI {flip}
Six Feet Under {flip}
Bringing Home Baby {flip}
Scrubs {flip}
Mystery Diagnosis {flip}
Ghost Hunters {flip}

All of sudden a major portion of TV shows are not at all interesting, especially medical ones. Why would it be when I've had front row seats to the "action" in real life? And trust me, its not entertaining. I used to *love* Scrubs...I used to flip back and forth between two different episodes that were on different channels at the same time. Its just not that funny anymore.

And then Andre and I started watching Heroes again, we had missed all of the third season. Those of you who watch this series, I'm sure you can think about the running theme this season and know why we just had to stop watching. I swear in every. single. episode. this season they've shown someone with a G-tube in their nose. What?! I have *never* ever seen that in a TV show before...and I would've remembered if I had, because when we started seeing them on all the liver kids it freaked me out. And now it is EVERYWHERE.

I've been subsisting on the Food Network, America's Next Top Model reruns and What Not To Wear. Safe, mindless, comfortable. I can handle some episodes of Jon & Kate + 8, another used-to-be favorite show of mine. Sometimes I have to turn it off though because I start looking at all those kids and thinking "out of all them, all eight...they are all healthy and beautiful and growing just fine..." and its hard not to be jealous and wonder "...why?".

Movies aren't that safe either...you think one will be light and funny and perfectly harmless, and then BAM, out of nowhere the lead lands herself in the hospital (with a g-tube in her nose, naturally) or someone suddenly becomes really super heartbroken and they play meloncholy music while she bawls her head off for the next 30 scenes.

And don't forget music. Oh gosh, the MUSIC is the worst. I hardly ever listen to the radio anymore because you never know what song will come on next. One from his website, one I cried to one night as I drove to the hospital for the umpteenth night in a row...

You know that quote, "Wherever you go, there you are?" Ya, life's like that. No matter where I go, no matter what I do, the pain finds me eventually. {stab} {stab} {stab} I feel like I live in the dark, and every once in awhile I venture outside and the sun is just too bright, too harsh and everything feels too big and awkward and unnatural. Its all you can do sometimes to surface and force yourself to get dressed, force yourself to leave the house, force yourself to smile, and let the sun shine on your face...let the music play. I can only take so much of it at a time, its just little steps (see, I was about to type "baby" steps and it just about...oh, and right then I almost wrote "killed me" GAH!!!!! See what its like living in my mind?? Its crazy.) anyway, what I'm trying to say is...its slow going progress.

words

2008-11-08T20:58:00.000-07:00

Its really frustrating trying to live "normally" in a world that is no longer normal to me. I don't want to be someone that others feel like they have to walk on eggshells around...but honestly, 99% of the experiences I have now remind me in some way of the awful things I have seen. Its just really hard.

Tonight we went to our church Film Festival, one of those things that we really could have cared less about right now, but we're trying to get out, trying to be "normal" so we went. It was really, truly funny! Everyone had submitted their own short films and they served popcorn and soda. We laughed a lot...the kids in our ward are so stinkin' cute. They had these segments where they "interviewed" the kids one by one and asked them gospel related questions and some of their answers were just priceless.

Then, *smack* the reminder. One of the questions was "Who is the Prophet?" which was followed by "What happened to Pres. Hinckley?" (the last prophet of our church who recently passed away). So they ask the first child:

"What happened to Pres. Hinckley?"

"He died."

...and then the next child...

"What happened to Pres. Hinckley?"

"He died."

...and the next child...

"He died."

"He died."

"He died."

"He died."

I was seriously about to stand up and shout "OK WE GET IT, THE OLD MAN KICKED THE BUCKET". I am not sure why they asked that question in the first place...what did they expect to hear the kids say? It wasn't funny like the other questions and answers were. And it didn't stop there. The next question was "How do we get to Heaven?"

"We die."

"We die."

"We die."

"We die."

"We die."

Seriously now. Its just makes me sad...most of the people in that room probably didn't even bat an eyelash at it, it just wouldn't even occur to them how that sounds to someone who is grieving, especially when it is so recent and raw. I wish such simple words didn't feel like stabs in my heart. I wish they didn't affect me so much and make me feel like screaming from the room. I wish I didn't feel like I trail my sadness behind me wherever I go. I wish I didn't feel so crazy!!!

Die. Death. Kill.

The words are everywhere...even *I* still use them without thinking. Example: Joenick runs into the house after school.

Joenick: "Mommy, guess what? I was riding my bike and I was going fast and there was a trash can and I had to swerve and almost crashed!!!!"

Me: "Oh my goodness, were you gonna di--{choke}......um, oh."

The words fly out of everyone's mouths without a second thought "I swear, I almost died." "It was killing me!" "I was scared to death!" You really don't even notice until suddenly you are spending every waking second trying NOT to remember those words and all that they encompass. There's just no way to avoid it.

It makes me sad that this is my new life, and it makes me sad for everyone else. I know no one means to say or do something that would remind me, but at this point, its just impossible not to, even for me! And when it does happen, and then they do realize and then they feel so bad...I just feel bad for everyone all around. Really though, I am sad all the time. There isn't much anyone could say to me at this point that would really make it that much worse. I am always a second away from tears. I am always feeling that ache. I'm not offended by it or anything...I know this is hard for everyone, and I love everyone just the same. Its just really hard.

regrets

2008-11-06T08:45:00.000-07:00

This morning I am feeling a lot of regret. Regret for things I wish I would have done...regret for things we couldn't do.

With the cooler weather I keep thinking "Gavin would love this!" he loved going on walks, but it was so hard to take him out often during the summer while it was so hot. And we couldn't escape in the evening a lot of times either because we were too busy trying to hook up his feeding tubes. Or we were in the hospital and stuck inside. One of the last things Andre and I got to do with him together at home was taking him on a long walk around our neighborhood one evening after dinner. We went all the way up to the golf course and walked all the way around that, too. Andre had him up on his shoulders so he could see everything. He never made a sound...just looked and looked and looked. And a couple days before I left UCLA that fateful weekend, I took Gavin out for a long walk all the way around the hospital grounds in his little red wagon. Our last stop was the water fountain pools where I laid him on the bricks so he could dip his hands in the water and splash around. He loved it!!! We stayed out there for a really long time. I wish we could have gone on walks every single day...and I wish we could still take him on walks now...

I wish I would have taken more snapshots of him with the kids. We have hardly any pictures of *just* the kids together during those last few months. Granted, we were in and out of the hospital so much...but still. I remember so many times when we *were* home and they would be playing with him or holding him on the couch and I would think "I should take a picture!" but then I'd change my mind because I was "too busy" or "their hair was messed up" or "Gavin wasn't dressed in something cute" and I would think "I'll take one later when they are dressed up more."

A really painful regret is that I didn't let the kids hold Gavin more often. They asked all the time, and so many times I said "not right now, maybe later, next time..." because it was such a "hassle" to get them all set up on the couch, and make sure they held him right, and if they were feeding him that they held the bottle right, and it took so much longer when they did it. I feel like I robbed them of precious moments together with their baby brother close to their hearts. I wish I had made the time, made the effort, stopped for a few moments and just let them love each other...

I also wish I had more snapshots of him and I together. Most of our pictures are of him and Andre, because I was the one who watched for "kodak moments" and I was the one who took most of the pictures. Thats what stinks about being the "family photographer"...you capture all the moments of everyone else, and no one thinks about taking any pictures of you.

I wish I would have taken a "nice" picture of the kids all together. The last time I tried, Gavin was 5 months old and he cried through most of them. And during his last "photoshoot" the kids weren't there. I really wish I had been able to dress them all in white and take a picture of them together like that. I love the way those pictures look. I have one of Joenick and Evienne before Gavin was born, and it is so sweet. I look at it now and it just makes me regret...

I wish Gavin could have gone to church more. I wish he could have heard the singing, heard the prayers, felt the Spirit. I wish our family could have sat in a row and cuddled and loved our little man and passed him around and entertained him during sacrament meeting. I wish I could have had an excuse to dress him up every week and have 3 long hours of cuddle time with him. I wish I could have held him like that every week, and had him fall asleep in my arms during Sunday School. I wish I could have shown him off like that...instead the only place anyone in the ward ever saw him was in the hospital when they voluntered to sit with him in the afternoons so I could go be with the kids.

I wish he could have played with his cousins more often. Most of the time we had to keep him at home so he wouldn't get sick. He and Ayla were just getting old enough to start playing together. Their version of "playing" was Ayla climbing all over Gavin, and he loved it! :) I wish he could keep playing with his cousins and grow up with them. I wish his cousins didn't have to grow up thinking of him as an angel and wondering what he was like.

I wish we could have taken him more places and done more things with him. I wish we could have gone to the park more. He was just getting old enough to really enjoy it, and it was cooling off just enough to be able to take him in the evenings. During his last "photoshoot" with me we put him in a swing for the FIRST time ever and he loved it! He smiled so big...thats one of my favorite pictures of him, and the one my cousin framed for us for the funeral. How I wish we would have gone back again the next evening, instead of doing whatever else we did that night. How I wish we would have gone back every night...how I wish I could take him there today, right now with this cool breeze, all bundled up in a jacket, jeans and chunky little boy shoes! How I wish I could watch his little nose and cheeks grow pink with cold and excitement! How I wish he could learn to go down the slide!

I wish I hadn't been so tired and "busy" during my days with him. Mornings were always so hard, trying to get the kids ready for school while Gavin was still hooked up to his feeding tubes. He almost always ended up crying, wanting more attention and I had to just let him cry while I finished up with the kids. By the time I had them off to school, and then him unhooked from all his stuff, and his clothes changed, and his sheets changed, and his diaper changed, and breakfast fed...I was so stressed out all I wanted to do was put him down for his morning nap!

I wish I would have had a rocking chair so I could have held him longer at night. One time when he was younger, and we could still bring him to church, I took him into the Mother's Lounge to feed him and the rocker chairs in there were SO comfortable! I loved it, we stayed in there extra long just rocking. That last month I felt such a need to do that...to be able to sit and rock with him for a very long time. To just hold him into the dark hours of the night in a big, comfy chair, rocking him back and forth and gaze at his sweet litte face. I always loved doing that at the hospital, they always had rocking chairs out in the hall and first thing I'd do after we were admitted admitted, was to find one and drag it into his room. I loved just sitting and rocking him and holding him close. I searched craigslist for weeks that last month home trying to find the "right one" and one night I felt like I *HAD* to go buy one I had found, but I didnt because everyone was so busy, and it was late. How I wish I had listened to my instincts and gotten the chair anyway, even though I knew it would have been annoying to have to go out and get it that night. It was the last week we were home...and I never got to hold my baby and just rock him for hours...

I wish we could have shown him more of the things in this life...I hate Arizona, its too hot to do anything 75% of the year. I wish he were here now, now thats it cooler, now that I could take him to the zoo all day long and just walk around with him while he looked and looked and looked. The only time he went he was too little to really see anything. He would have loved the zoo. I wish we could have taken him to the Tempe water park and he could have crawled around in the little water river and played in the fountain. He LOVED playing in water...he would have loved it so much. I WISH SO MUCH he could have gone swimming. I would have taken him every day this summer if he hadn't had that stupid central line in. His favorite thing was taking baths...he would have loved swimming. I even bought him the cutest little swimsuit shorts and matching rashguard shirt right before summer, right before they put the central line in. I was SO excited to take him swimming! But now it still sits in his closet...tags still on, never used. I wish we would have had days and years to explore the kids museums and the parks and the playgrounds while the kids were in school during the day. I wish I could have brought him to the school during their lunch hour so we could all eat together and he could wish he could be in school like his big brother and sister!

I really, really, really wish I could have thrown him a birthday party. Even just one...I already had it all planned out, even if it was going to be at the hospital. It was going to be Baby Einstein themed (he LOVED those little movies!) and his cake was going to be the little caterpillar that crawls out in the beginning (he LOVED that caterpillar!). I was so excited to see his face when he saw it...his favorite thing ever right in front of him, all his to devour!!! We would have had balloons, lots of balloons and streamers and a big banner that said "Happy 1st Birthday, Gavin!" and I was going to hang it across his door. We were even going to give out real invitations to all his doctors and the nurses, and have cupcakes for everyone and a bowl of candy to set by the door, little buttermints in shiny red, blue and yellow "1st birthday" wrappers. And we were going to have sheets of red stickers that said "Thanks for coming to my party!" to give out to everyone. We were going to buy him his own wagon for at home, and a little upholstered chair that was all his own. I was going to have the kids fly out, too, and we would have celebrated all day long! They would have had so much fun picking out presents for their baby brother. They loved him so much...it would have made them feel so special to wrap up their gifts and then watch him tear off the paper. I can see their faces in my mind...I can play out the whole day, see exactly how it would have gone, feel how happy we would have been! How I wish it were real. The day before he died everyone was so hopeful and his doctor said it would be a great goal to have him fully awake and up and off the respirator by then. I excitedly told Gavin that he had to wake up soon so he could have birthday cake and we could sing Happy Birthday to him, and open up all his fun presents! Its just so cruel that he missed it all by only 14 days...

I was going to get his hair cut for the first time on his birthday, too, even if I had to call around and find someone who would be willing to come to the hospital and do it. He would have looked so grown up with his new "big boy" haircut! Of course he would have gotten a lollipop, his first one! And he would have been a sticky mess, with little hairs everywhere. Those little curls would have been neatly clipped, tied and tucked into his baby book, one more milestone to record and one more event to capture with pictures! Instead...I had to quietly and sadly cut one small curl off the back of his neck as I dressed him for his casket. It will be the last thing to go in his baby book. The last milestone, the last entry, the last pictures to take...pictures that no one would ever want to see. The rest of his little teeth will never grow in. He will never weigh more than 16 lbs. He will never take his first step or say his first word. His cute little baby book that I so lovingly picked out, that I was so excited to fill up with treasures and memories, will always be unfinished...blank lines and emtpy pages, milestones never reached...

I wish we could have spent Halloween trick-or-treating, instead of trying to hide our grief from the world. I was going to dress Gavin up as a little vampire, it would have been his first little suit...but then again, I saw the cutest Curious George costume in the store, so maybe I would have changed my mind! We were just starting to get into Curious George, I think he would have liked it. And we would have just walked and walked around the neighborhood while he looked and looked and looked at everyone. He would have been so mystified at all the colors and costumes, and he would have loved it! We would have taken the cutest picture of him and all his little cousins dressed up together...and I can just see them looking at each other like "what are you *wearing*?!" and trying to pull off each others headbands and wings and tails. Or the other scenario, the realistic one, as we would have still been in the hospital...I still would have dressed him up and they would have had trick-or-treating in the hallways, and the nurses would have given out candy, and they might have even had a little party for the kids in the playroom. The nurses would have LOVED his costume, no matter what he was. They loved our little guy so much...he would have been so cute! We would have pulled him around in his wagon all night and he would have loved it.

I wish we would be spending Thanksgiving together and being SO THANKFUL because he got his miracle and was getting better. Even if we were in the hospital, it would have been nice. I'm sure they will be serving crappy Thanksgiving food in the hospital cafeteria, haha, :P and Gavin would have loved eating the mashed potatoes and the sweet potatoes and the bread. But his favorite part would have been the pumpkin pie!!! They had already started serving pumpkin pie in the cafeteria that month we were there. The very last thing Gavin and I did together, before I left that weekend and he got put in the ICU, was sharing a piece of pumpkin pie together. We sat on the couch in his hospital room and ate pie and looked out his window at all the cars driving by in the streets below. He loved that pie, it was the first time he had had it! If I wasn't fast enough he would reach out and grab the fork to bring it to his mouth faster! If he were still here I'd bring him a whole piece of pumpkin pie just for himself. Instead, Andre will be working on Thanksgiving and I will be feeling everything BUT thankful. :(

I wish I could be planning what to buy him for Christmas this year. I would be getting him those waffle/pokey, lego block things that stick together. They had a little table of them at the hospital here in AZ in the playroom and during his last stay there he LOVED playing with them! I would make little towers all over the board for him, and he would pull off the pieces one by one and throw them on the floor. Or he would pick one up and bang it on the board and stop to listen to the sound it made...over and over. He was just discovering *sounds* and everytime he got something new in his hands he wanted to bang it or drop it or shake it to hear what kind of sound it made. On our last drive to the hospital from the airport together, I sat in the back of the taxi with him and he was fussing so I gave him a mini tylenol bottle I had in my purse. He shook that thing the ENTIRE way there! He loved it! Maybe I could have found him some cute wooden maracas for Christmas, too, they would have been so cute in his stocking. He definitely would have gotten some new cute socks...and probably his first pair of "big boy" shoes. And definitely some new baby Einstein dvds!!! :) I would have bought him some new board books and probably some bath toys as he was getting old enough to sit up in the big bathtub. I would have put some yummy teething cookies in his stocking, maybe a "big boy" spoon and fork. I would have made him a new blanket...I had been wanting to make him one that was soft and fuzzy on one side, and cool and silky on the other. And I would have bought him a whole stack of precious, feet-y pajamas. He would have been so darn cute wearing them for the first time, trying to figure out what was on his feet and how funny it was to crawl around in them. Danggit...I want to see my baby in feet-y pajamas. :(

He would have loved going on walks through the neighborhood in the evening and seeing all the Christmas lights...oh he would have LOVED IT! I can just see his face in my mind...and we would have gone to the Temple to see the Christmas lights there multiple times I'm sure. He would have had so much fun there. And he would have LOVED the Christmas tree! He would have driven me crazy trying to grab all the ornaments off it. How I wish he could drive me crazy and that I could be stressed out all month long that he might pull the Christmas Tree over! We would have dressed up as the Nativity Scene again this year, and it would have taken FOREVER to get a picture because Gavin would be trying to crawl all over the place...actually, now that I think of it, he would be 14 months old, so I'm sure he would have been walking. Ya, there would have been NO way to get him to sit still! :) I wish I had made the kids' felt stockings last year like I was planning to...they were each going to have a different picture on the front, and their names stitched across the top. I think I was going to put a reindeer on Gavin's stocking, or maybe it was a snowman. Now even if I do find the time or willpower to make them, one will never get used...always empty.

I wish I could have seen him take his first step, and make it all the way across the floor. I wish I could have watched the kids being so careful and helpful with him, holding his hands and calling out to him so he would walk to them. They would have been so excited! I wish I could watch him teeter towards me and then grab him up at the last second in a big bear hug and cheer "YAY!!!!" and he would smile and laugh and be so proud of himself...just like he did when he learned to wave.

I wish he had learned to give kisses. I wish he had learned to say "mama" and "dada". I wish he had learned to say "luv yoo". I wish he could learn to ride a trike. I wish we could pick out his backpack for his first day of preschool. I wish I could cry because my baby was going to Kindergarten.

I wish he could grow up and have best friends and scraped knees and be sad the day Gretel finally got too old and died. I wish he could go to high school and learn to drive and get a part-time job. The class of 2025 will never know that there should have been a Gavin Sprague growing up with them all this time...the kid who would have been their best friend, the kid who could have been on their soccer team, the kid who might have been valedictorian- who knows. The cute boy in history class a girl would have had a crush on, the boy who could have asked her to her first school dance, the boy who might have been her first boyfriend, the boy she might have waited for and married. None of them will even know he existed, that someone is missing when they call out names on graduation night.

I wish we could send him on a mission. I wish I could worry about him day and night and wait anxiously for letters. I wish we could go through the Temple with him and see him make those oh so important covenants. I wish he could get married and have children. I wish he could have a whole line of great-grandkids and great-great-grandkids who would hear stories about their "Grandpa Gavin".

All these things, each one is another stab of pain, another stab of grief...its not just losing a child, its losing experiences and memories and pictures and smiles and laughs and hugs and kisses and a whole future. Days and hours and seconds...a whole lifetime. A whole legacy. I will continue to have losses my entire life, as each empty milestone approaches and passes, and my child isn't here to experience them. My grieving will never be complete because there will always be fresh losses around each corner...little stabs of pain, regret, longing, wishing...wanting.

new journey, new blog

2008-11-04T10:20:00.000-07:00

I made a new blog for me to talk just about Gavin and this "new journey" we're on. I decided I didn't want to use his old blog for that...I want somewhere else. I haven't been able to post my feelings online for awhile, I'm not sure why. I definitely had no problem doing it before! Part of me is scared to "put them down on paper" because maybe then they won't go away. But I think being able to express them will help me move through them.

There are a LOT of gray areas in my life right now...things I was so sure about before are muddled and confusing. I like things black and white...this is definitely NOT black and white. Trust me when I say that it is so easy for others looking in to be confident in what "we believe" and to feel comfort from that. I.e. "we'll see him again someday" and "Heavenly Father knows all". It is NOT the same when you are actually thrown a situation that forces you to examine "What do *I* REALLY believe?" and having to do this during the most horrible, unimaginable pain ever.

It *is* doubting everything the gospel teaches us...doubting "the plan", doubting an afterlife, a chance to be together again, doubting Heavenly Father's love for us, His involvement in our lives. How can you not??? When everything you care about, everything that matters, everything in your life now rests on whether or not its true??? How can you not be filled with fear at the dreadful thought that creeps into the back of your mind..."but what if its not...?"? When it would take away all your hope, take away your entire reason for taking one breath and then another, take away the meaning of your entire LIFE???

And that is the worst part of all. Being in your own personal Gethsemene, bearing your own personal cross and at the absolute worst part of it feeling forsaken and alone and doubting as Christ did when He was on the cross, and wondered in agony "Why hast Thou forsaken me???". If even Christ himself, being a perfect man, having a perfect knowledge of all things, and knowing the end from the beginning, had to feel that way, then perhaps there is a higher reason for it, some meaning in it, something you have to go through. Or maybe we simply cannot feel the Spirit when we are in that much physical, emotional, and spiritual agony. Maybe even the Spirit cannot console us when we are experiencing a loss that is just too much for our imperfect, veiled, mortal beings to bear. "It is hard to hear the still, small voice when your soul is screaming in pain".

I felt no peace at all this month. None. The night Gavin died I was in such agony, I can't even begin to describe it. I prayed, pleaded, begged that Heavenly Father would at least let me sleep, let me escape this pain for a short while and it never came. It was the most awful night of my entire life. My physical body just could. not. handle that much excrutiating pain. The week after was just numb...all of our family was around, there were so many decisions needed to be made for the funeral, it was the easiest week.

Its the weeks after that have been harder. The torture of that first night returns often...wondering why? how? what if...? going over it in my head, over and over and over and over. Feeling like it is my fault, that I could have done something differently, that I wasn't paying enough attention...how could I possibly live with myself? The overwhelming sadness, missing him so much, wanting to hold him and touch him so much I can't even breathe. Crying until I can no more and there still aren't enough tears to express the pain I feel. Feeling angry, so betrayed at giving all my trust to Heavenly Father, believing with all my heart and soul, giving up my fears and putting it in His hands and then having Him take it all away at the last moment and leaving me all alone. The fear of having faith and hope and trust again. Knowing that even if you can manage to have a "good day", there are tsunamis of emotion just waiting to overtake you again soon.

And then eventually realizing that even knowing doesn't make it feel any less worse. Because that is how it feels no matter what you "know" in your head. Logic and rationale have no place in grieving, no bearing at all. You can be thinking logically and rationally the whole time even while the storm rages in your heart, and it doesn't help at all. Knowing in your head doesn't help the way your heart feels. Its nice to know, but it doesn't bring any comfort because Gavin is still gone today and will be tomorrow, and the next day, and the next and it won't ever stop hurting in this life.

And beyond the horrible, intense waves of emotions that come and go, there is always, always an ever-present aching pain in my heart. It feels like you are always walking in a fog, like a hundred blankets are over you, and a constant nagging in the back of your mind...that feeling you get when you were right in the middle of doing something and you can't remember what it was. Something is just wrong. I don't know if I'll ever be truly happy again, because underneath it all, there will always be this ache. There will always be a hole...someone always missing, a piece of our family puzzle...it will never feel quite right again.

But as much as you don't want it to, the sun keeps rising, and life continues on, and you have no choice but to keep getting up each morning and forging through. Please don't tell me I am strong...I am not, I just don't have a choice in the matter. If I had a choice, Gavin would be here with me and to heck with "the plan" and everything else. Do not underestimate how quickly I would pass this trial on to *anyone* else, if it meant having Gavin back again. But I don't have that choice. The only choice I have is what I will do with this trial now that is it mine to bear. I just hope that eventually I can use it to do something good.

Gavin's gift to us was his life, and I know eventually I'll be able to find other gifts in this, too. I don't want his life to be for nothing. Don't get me wrong, I'd much rather he had lived and because of his experiences had grown up to be an amazing doctor and saved millions of lives or something. In fact, I'd rather he simply grew up, even if he did nothing particularly amazing and our lives just went back to normal and no one ever heard from us again, or even cared to, and nothing else special came from our experience this year except that now we were together and happy and whole. But again, I didn't get a choice in the matter. So now all I can do is try to somehow move through this and be a person worthy of my sweet, perfect little boy.