Letting Go

Something must be festering inside of me if I am writing on the blog in the middle of the year!  I usually save blog posts for Luke's birthday and angel day.  But yes, something is tugging at my heart.  And it has been tugging at my heart for over five years.

Today after Mass, I met with a woman who is starting a ministry called Embrace (http://www.embracefamilies.com/).  Embrace is a loving ministry that offers support to families who are facing grief after miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant death.  Tommy and I have offered to be support for others (and we will also gain support from others) and are anxious to get started.  I was involved in Griefshare at our parish in Tennessee and I was so thankful that there were other people who were grieving, although the losses were all different.

As I was talking with the woman who is bringing Embrace to our parish, those feelings flooded back.

The bitterness.

The anger.

The questioning.

I bet you're wondering who caused these feelings?  Who made me feel bitter?  Who caused anger and questioning?  Why would I even allow someone to make me feel this way?

It's simple, really.  It is because when we lost Luke, the only thing I had to rely on was my faith.  My family and many of my friends were amazing.  They were there when I needed them the most. 

But my faith.  My faith was the only thing that got me through.  I was carried because I couldn't walk on my own.

So...who do you turn to when you want to talk about faith?  When you want to hear about faith?  When you want to grow in your faith?  Most people turn to their pastor. 

You see, I worked at our parish.  I worked there until I was about 38 weeks along with Luke.  Before I knew he was sick.  Before I knew he may die.  Back when I was the old, fun Bernie.  The pastor was, for all intents and purposes, my boss.

When Luke was born, everyone scrambled, especially my work family.  They worked to get meals together and to help get Em and Matt where they needed to be.  They were there when we needed them.  I received phone calls and emails from many of them.

So many of them.  Except for one. 

The pastor.

I never heard a thing from him.  Not when Luke was airlifted on the night he was born.  Not when Luke was baptized on St. Patrick's Day.  Not when he had his Norwood.  Not on the night that he died.  Not on the day of his funeral.  Not on the unimaginable days following.

Thankfully, our previous pastor was there to baptize him.  He was there to say the funeral Mass.  He was there when we said our last goodbyes.  He was there.  For all of this, I will be forever grateful (and the fact that he is now a bishop is pretty cool). 

Why do I care?  Why does this still bother me after all these years? 

Because of faith.  Because I believe that he should have been there.  Tommy and I were broken and needed guidance.  He was not there.  It doesn't matter that there were hundreds of other people who were there for us.  At that time, we needed him.

A few weeks after we lost Luke, I went to pick Em and Matt up from school (which was a chore in and of itself--seriously, I have never felt so out of place as I did when I went back to my beloved school without my baby).  I saw the pastor in the office and he asked (in a very flippant way) how I was (I truly believe he had no idea who I was nor wanted to know how I was). 

So I looked at him.  I felt the tears building up.  I said "you know that my baby died?".

"Oh yes" he said.  I think we made some small talk and he said a prayer with me. 

And while I appreciated the prayer, it just wasn't enough to make up for when he wasn't there to say a prayer.  When he wasn't there to pray over our baby as he lay helpless in a hospital bed.  When he wasn't there to comfort us as we held our baby after he had left this world.  When he wasn't there to say a funeral Mass.  When he wasn't there when our lives had to go on without our boy.

We needed our pastor and he sent his vicar (who did an amazing job) to do his "dirty work".  I felt (and still feel) jaded.  Was our baby not important enough for him to care?  Did we not give enough money to the parish to earn his support? 

I have seen him give other families this support, why not us?

OK, I think I have said enough.  I am sorry if I have offended anyone.  But priests, preachers, rabbis, etc. are all human.  They all make mistakes.  Maybe someone will read this and will remind his/her spiritual leader what is important.

We are all important. 

We are all His chosen ones.

I pray that our former pastor will realize that each and every life matters. 

And I pray that this post will help me release some of the bitterness.  The anger.  The questioning.

May God bless you all!

PS  Emily, Matthew, and James are growing so much.  Em will be 11 next month and Matthew will be 9.  James is 4 1/2, but always tells people that he "just turned 4".  They keep us busy and they really keep us laughing.  We are blessed with them and I am sure that their brother is proud of who they are becoming.    

New Normal?

I think I first heard that phrase used after Luke was born. 

NEW NORMAL.

Huh?  What do you mean?  What exactly does "new normal" mean?  I don't want a new normal.  I just want my son home.  Healthy. All I want is my "old normal" back.  I want that innocence.  I want all four of my children here with me.

I'm sure that many of you have heard the term "new normal" before.  Maybe you lost a loved one, maybe your child was born with an issue requiring long-term care, maybe a car accident changed your life.  New normal.  That's what you hear.

Tommy and I have experienced a few "new normal" episodes over the past five years:  Luke's birth (followed by his diagnosis), James' birth (followed by his diagnosis), two moves across the country.  I have been able to reconcile with each of those new normals.  They each came with their own battles, but I was able to deal with it all. 

There is one new normal that I will never be able to get used to:  Luke's death and the new normal that came with it.  Tomorrow marks 5 years since he has been gone.  I cannot believe that five years ago was the last time I heard him cry or the last time I held him. 

What's normal about outliving your child?  What's normal about burying a baby?  What's normal about living the rest of your life with part of your heart missing?  Luke couldn't live missing part of his heart.  Why is it normal for us to live missing part of ours?

New normal?  No.

As the years go by, there are certain things that sting more than years past. 

The finite amount of pictures.  Seriously.  I am forced to use the same pictures of Luke again and again.  He never gets older.  He will never take another picture.  Thankfully, my father and sister made sure that we had a lot of pictures of Luke.  Unfortunately, the pictures stopped on April 18th, 2008.

His age.  The first year was hard.  The subsequent years were also difficult, but the pain was a lot less acute.  This year?  This year is hard.  He would be five.  Five.  Kindergarten.  Writing his name.  Riding a bike.  More independent.  I fear the fall when kindergarten begins.  Although it will be awesome to see all of my friends' children heading off to their first day of kindergarten, it will also hurt my heart to know that our son never had the chance to have a first day at any school.

The fear that he has been forgotten.  I realize that people move on.  I get it.  Does that mean that I have to forget, too?  I don't expect anyone else to think of him as often as I think of him.  Why would you?  I gave birth to Luke.  I fed him.  I held his hand in the ambulance as he was slipping away.  I prayed with my husband that night, telling God that we would be ok if He took Luke.  These are my memories and they are etched in my heart.  I will never forget.  But as the time goes on, I see it.  I see people moving on.  I hear it.  I hear his name fewer and fewer times.  I feel it.  I feel it in my heart when I realize that I am the only one who is thinking of him. 

Does this sound like a wonderful new normal to you?  Not me.  I don't want it.  I want my old normal back.  I want my son. 

Before you think "oh my, this lady has gone and lost her mind!", be assured that I still have my faith.  I have faith that I will see Luke again.  That our God is a God of grace and that is what He gave Luke (and us) on the night we lost him.  But it doesn't mean that I can't mourn.  It doesn't mean that I have to feel good about our new normal.  It simply means that my son is in paradise, watching over us.  We will see him again and that is what keeps us going.

If you are reading this, you remember him.  Thank you.  Please take a moment tomorrow to say a prayer for those who have lost a child.  So many are mourning and it seems so unfair.  Maybe if we all pray for a second or two, each of these parents will receive a little sign from their angel(s). 

God bless you and thank you.

five years.

Dear Luke,

Tomorrow marks five years.  Five years since you left the safety of my womb and began a fight for your life.  Five years since I first laid eyes on your sweet face.  Five years since I noticed that you had Daddy's nose. 

Five years since I noticed your hands.  They were blue.  You couldn't nurse because it took too much effort. You kept falling asleep.  Five years since my world came crashing down.  Five years since they whisked you away in a helicopter.  Five years since the thought of losing you became real.

Oh baby boy, I miss you so much.  You have no idea.  You can't imagine the pain that we all feel without you.  Mommy, Daddy, Emily, Matthew, and even James.  I know you have met him.  I am confident that he knows you.  I am certain that you showed him the way to our family.  So many people miss you Little Bubba.  Gramma, Grampa, Nana, numerous aunts, uncles, and cousins.  I have so many dear friends who talk about you all the time.  They remember you and they make sure that I know that.  I need that, sweet Luke.

WOW!  Five years old!  That is quite a milestone for boys and girls.  Maybe that is why this year, your birthday is harder for me.  You would be starting kindergarten in the fall.  You would probably be learning to ride your bike without training wheels.  I'm sure you would be quite the swimmer this summer and  you would be having a blast playing baseball with your brothers.  Mommy wishes you were here to celebrate all of those childhood rites of passage. 

I remember taking a walk with Daddy when you were still with us.  I will never forget that walk.  We were talking about you and what to expect for your life.  I remember Daddy telling me, "I don't know what's better, Luke living for just a short time...or having to tell him when he is 20 and has his adult life ahead of him that his heart may start failing and he may need a transplant soon."  Neither is better, sweet Luke.  Frankly, they are both horrible scenarios.   

As I told Daddy tonight, we didn't get the chance to make many memories with you during your short life.  I miss those memories.  How crazy does that sound, little boy?  I miss the memories that we never got to make.  I miss what we were never able to do.  I miss the future that you never had.

Luke, you are truly a bringer of light.  Daddy and I were just talking about what a good baby you were.  You were so easy going and so quiet.  Everyone who met you loved you.  I only wish more people would have been given the chance to meet you.

Wow, were you a precious sight.  Definitely a gorgeous boy.  God made sure to make you perfect on the outside, even if your heart was incredibly broken on the inside.  Your eyes were those of a wise old man, one who had lived a full life and had so much wisdom, more than I could ever hope for.  Under that sweet nose laid a precious little mouth, definitely Great Gramma's mouth.  Very cute and very kissable.  Yup, God made you so perfectly Luke.

Baby, please pray for Mommy.  I have a lot of things on my heart right now and I need some guidance from God.  Please intercede and ask him to help Mommy discern what she needs to do.  Pray for Daddy.  Please pray that he continues to do well at work and that he knows how wonderful we think he is.  Mommy loves him so much and your life and the lives of your sissy and brothers have made that love so much stronger!  Thank you for that.  Little Luke, please intercede for Em, Matt, and James.  Please ask God to remind them how special they are and how loved they are.  You are all so cherished.

Luke, I love you so much.  Thank you for teaching me grace and for showing me what is important in life.  Thank you for helping me grow in my faith and thank you for being our boy.  I hope that you have a happy birthday in heaven and that you catch the balloons that we will send up tomorrow...your sister and brothers are counting on it!

I love you and would give anything for you to be here tomorrow.

Love,
Mommy

*****************************

 



*  This is what gets me through the tough days:

James 1:2-3  Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.

And it just so happens that this verse helped us decide on Sweet Baby James' name.  :)