A Letter to the Mother I Never Wanted to Be

We mothers will never forget those precious moments when we held our children in our arms for the very first time. We cuddled our babies, sniffing these little miracles swaddled in blankets as we stared in awe of what we have just experienced.  Overflowing with unconditional love for our children, our hearts are forever changed. We would instantly sacrifice our own lives for these blessings from above. Our minds are etched with memories that eternally transform us from the inside out.

To be a mother. The most difficult job on earth but the most rewarding.  A job we fantasized about as children ourselves, never imagining the possibility of how a little being would change our lives, never once considering life without our children as we are caught up in explicit joy, when life couldn’t be more perfect.  We map out all of our children’s milestones and birthdays, planning for a successful and blissful future, down to the last detail.

Then suddenly without warning the day comes when circumstance out of our control happen and our child’s time here is over, forcing us to say goodbye. What? No one tells you this is even a possibility when your child is born.  Would that alter our perspective on wanting to be mothers? Would the pain be too much to bear, diverting us from embarking on such a journey?  Possibly.

Yet, no matter how long our children stay with us on earth, we are mothers forever and our souls are permanently changed.

We often lose ourselves as we are submerged in deep grief.  The connection with our souls and outside world is severed and we board the unpredictable emotional roller coaster for the rest of our lives.  We regulate the bundle of tears that lies just beneath the surface, waiting to flow when we are pierced with moments of sorrow.

We are unrecognizable from the mothers we used to be. We struggle to find ourselves in our new, and unfathomable journey, wondering why this had to happen to us.

Who are we? Honestly, I’m not sure. We know we are still mothers, however, we have become mothers we never wanted to be.  Mothers, who if honest would tell you the last time we cried was in the darkness of night just a few hours earlier.  A mother who keeps silent the internal struggles she faces as the sun rises every day knowing her child is not in her arms.

We long to remember how it physically felt to hold our children and their unique sweet scent we would give anything to smell again.

We retreat from the activities and events of others with children the same age, ridden with secret jealousy as we hide from the realization that our children will never get to experience such wonderful times.

Our Saturday nights turn from dinners with friends and social engagements to sitting in our pajamas wrapped in blankets on our beds frantically searching for online support, desperate to share our children and find someone who can be with us in our moment.

We madly try to erase those vivid images of our children’s last moments, those casket bearing pictures of unbelievable traumas that couldn’t possibly have been real.

We are mothers who have lost their motivation for life, who have become self-critics rehashing everything they should have done differently, obsessed in guilt.  Mothers who are vulnerable and afraid of the future.

This was the mom I was in my early years of grief.

Yet after ten years, she’s not afraid anymore.  She has grown in ways she never believed possible, living outside her comfort zone for so long.  How was it possible to live so long as a bereaved mother when we could barely breathe, believing we would never make it one day, let alone months or years?

There is no hiding our true self. We have less tolerance for the mundane and superficial things in life. We learn to be honest with ourselves opening our eyes to the beauty of being alive and the capacity to love unconditionally as we’ve known devastating loss.

We are talented and inherently blessed as we balance life in two worlds, embracing the pain of our past, while carrying our children with us into this uncertain future.  Bereaved mothers think of their children first thing in the morning and before their eyes close at night.

We walk blindly in faith, one day at a time, clinging to one another and the only hope we can find. We are lead on a destination of self-discovery and purpose, evaluating where we’ve been and where we are going, tossing aside our imperfections. Knowing the value of each breath, we navigate through the intricate weave of life’s delicate threads possessing heavy wisdom beyond anything imaginable. In due time, we will come to a place again of self- love and happiness.

We get it. Loss has ignited a passion for life a place to thrive while we’re waiting to for that ultimate reunion. We strive boldly to honor our loved ones while bursting with compassion and a vigorous drive to serve others.

The strength of a grieving mother is enormous.  As we unite, we create a place where life is real and pain is palpable, yet hope and faith dominate. Differences are washed away and we are transformed into super heroes without even being aware.  God holds us up.

United in loss, stronger together. We can do this.

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Nostalgic November

It’s been a trying last few weeks as I’ve been traveling a lot. I just finished up a spectacular elk hunt enjoying the solace of nature and returned home, reconnecting with the world.   While spending time hunting, on the job and with family, it has been exhausting to say the least.  Being pulled in many directions, I’ve found that I’ve not had the time to write or share posts, nor have any time to myself during these days but then realized that this is life. It doesn’t adhere to my anticipated plan. It doesn’t fit in the cookie cutter mold. There are sharp turns, steep hills, and at times I find myself going in reverse.   What in the world?  I’ve learned I’ve no choice but to embrace it.

With the recent passing of my beloved uncle and declining health of my father, the emotional roller coaster welcomes me. I’ve enjoyed reminiscing, laughing and crying, as the pendulum of feelings swings widely. Grieving our loved ones is so hard, whether their passing was expected or not, there is no easy way to say goodbye.

However, since Lydia passed away, and years progressed, I’ve been fine-tuned to seeking life’s blessings during hardships. Despite difficult circumstances, I know the darkest days will pass and the sun will shine again, all in its own time.

But that doesn’t make it any easier.  Life is so fragile and love is so powerful.  Fresh events of loss bring to the surface the true meaning of life. It makes us ponder why we are even here. What is our purpose? Why do some live longer than others? Why does life have to hurt so much?  How are we equipped to handle it all?

How fast these years pass.  It seems like only a few short years ago I was in college as a young, naïve lady who set out to conquer the world.  Fast forward 20+ years and here I am today, wiser beyond my years, living through the unimaginable.  So strange. No exactly the life I had planned for myself.

I still cannot believe its November already. This month is one that carries high emotional charges as Lydia’s birthday lands on or near Thanksgiving each year.  No matter how many years have passed, we bereaved parents will always have heavy hearts and endless tears during birthdays and holidays. Yes, even after ten years. Yikes!  It still is so hard for me to fathom that much time has passed since my darling daughter was here.

During November every year, I find myself craving connection with God, needing to read scripture to remind myself that an eternity awaits.  I find myself visiting the cemetery more often, finding comfort in the solace and presence of her grave.  I find myself fantasizing of those early years with her and imagining who she’d be today.  You will find endless drops of pure love descending down my cheeks at random moments, evidence of the hearts incredible strength and timeless devotion.

Much time is spent on wondering, fantasizing, and dreaming of those heavenly reunions- no pain, no sorrow, only pure joy and restoration. Talk about glory days! What a gift.

In the end, today is all we are ever really promised.  Remember, when fear knocks on your door, answer with faith.

On the journey with you~

P.S. Stay tuned. Lots of excitement brewing here and two special announcements coming this month!

 

 

How I Heard God on a Sunday Morning

Do you every wonder if God is there? If He really hears what’s in your heart?  I just had to share this morning how God was speaking to me.

My first clue was the dream I had last night.  It was the most amazing.  So here it is……I found it easier to write it in form of a letter to Lydia.

 

I found you singing in your room with your pink microphone, ever so softly and sweetly, of course you were dressed in pigtails and mismatched clothes.

“Lydia?” I said in disbelief. “Is it you?” You glanced at me with that sweet little smile and those piercing blue eyes. It really was you.

With tears streaming down my cheeks, I ran and picked you up in my arms squeezing you so tightly.  You were beautiful.  I got to hear your voice. Something I was so afraid of forgetting.   Blonde hair and pigtails, you looked just like before. Soft skin, adorable giggles.  Your Strawberry Shortcake pillow was there too, laying in my closet, just the like the matching blanket I have on the bed.

You never left the bedroom, so I rushed out to get your brother so he could see you once again, hoping you wouldn’t leave. Grabbing him by the hand, we ran back to you. As we entered the room, you smiled so big and continued singing, with your great grandma sitting next to you. You were both smiling and laughing-clearly full of joy. Oh I love you so much sweet pea.  And then, I kept hearing.   “I am alive. Just believe.  I’m always here.”

Whoa.

What gift God gave me this Sunday morning. It had been forever since I had a dream of Lydia. Seriously, it must have been well over a year. Was it real? I didn’t want to forget. I tried desperately to go back to sleep to find her again. Regrettably, I was awake and there was no going back.

Why does it always happened like this?  He allows us little glimpses and then we are forced back to reality.

Once awake, I let it all soak in. Feeling content, I glanced over at my phone and a new notification popped up, telling me of a new memory today of portraits over the years.  It’s a slideshow the phone somehow puts together and notified me of this morning.  Strangely, I don’t recall receiving one of these before.  As I pushed play, photos of my second daughter in the past years rotated.  My heart warmed with gratitude as I watched photos of my precious Sadie, the rainbow little girl He had given me.

Looking at the pictures, I became overwhelmed with love and thankfulness. God has given me another chance to love a different daughter. What a gift.  It’s as if I was subtlety being told that it’s okay.  Lydia is at peace and okay, but here on earth I have this wonderful other daughter to love and grow with.  Incredible really.

Blessed and grateful I am this morning. And then…..

Something prodded me to check my email for the daily bible verse. I get them in abundance in my email, but rarely read them every day.  Today was different, and I knew I must open it.

Staring at me was the verse John 7:37-

Eagerly, I turned to my bible and there it was.

37: On the last day, that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried out, saying. “If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink.”   38: He who believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.”

Amazing.  It was the promise of the Holy Spirit in today’s scripture.  Reminding me, and I’m reminding you…that we must Go to HIM,…Not anyone else, but Go to Him and we will be satisfied…He will meet our needs like nothing else.

When we are thirsty, when we get that crave for coffee, energy drinks, soda, alcohol or even bottled water, we lunge for the superficial instant gratification.  We too often reach for these temporary physical quenchers, yet they do nothing for our spiritual thirst.   We can search and search trying to satisfy our inner needs, yet, in all reality, to improve the quality of our lives, we must be still and seek Him.  Quit the façade.  Quit diluting and distracting ourselves with people and activities as we perfect the art of avoidance so we don’t have to feel the pain and sadness life can bring.

We must dust off those bibles that sit near our beds unopened for months.  We must be vulnerable, exposing out hurting hearts and imperfections to Him, as only He can bring healing and wholeness to our lives, filling the emptiness in our souls.

The key word is come. We must come to him and He will meet us there. He will be there waiting. Meet him, seek him and he will quench our thirst. We need to acknowledge our need for Christ, extinguishing all self-reliance by opening our hearts to the Holy Spirit, welcoming peace and love on an entire new level.

Be reminded, He suffered and died for us. He is alive and with us in every moment. He knows and understands our weaknesses.  When we are feeling down, when our souls need replenished, just go to Him and he will satisfy our aching hearts.

Talk about powerful. He was speaking to me in so many ways this morning, it was wild.

The promise of the Holy Spirit…

Isaiah 58:11  

And the lord will continually guide you, and satisfy your desire in scorched places, and give strength to your bones; And you will be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water whose waters do not fail.

As our faith strengthens and we grow closer to God, our eyes will be opened to His blessings. Some days I’m too self-absorbed to notice, but today it was vivid and clear.  I knew I must share these little glimpses of God.   May you all find God’s presence with you this week.