Merry Christmas

Yesterday was a beautiful day. I had some concerns that my joy would be eclipsed by grief, but God gave me grace all day to enjoy His lavish blessings. Joy and sorrow were inseperable and it was beautiful.

After a big meal and more presents than I could handle, I craved a nap before church but there was something I wanted to do more than sleep. Last week, I got the idea of wearing a necklace with all my babies' birth stones. We don't have a lot of money right now, but I found some crystal charms on ebay for $1.50 each. I ordered them, but to my disappoinment they clumped together so you couldn't see all of them at once. Jeremy had the idea of separating them with silver beads (what would I do without him!). So 20 minutes before it closed, I went to Michael's to find just the right silver beads. Here is the result:

It's a simple necklace. No one would notice it; especially since it sort of matched my green dress. But it felt wonderful to take my babies to church with me on Christmas. It was fun to share the experience with Meredith. She kept asking which charm was for which baby. She likes Selah's green "emerald" better than her "diamond". I chose to use stones from the months they would have been born (it's just simpler that way). Meredith helped me string the beads and charms on a chain. When it was finished she said, "All your little sweeties!" How blessed I am to have these three "sweeties"!

Christmas Eve services always choke me up. The church is filled to capacity, the message never gets old and the songs are transcendent. I teared up a little early last night. The opening prayer acknowledged our loved ones who made it to heaven before us: "Finally, let us remember before God all those who rejoice with us in heaven, who live in greater light than we... and who live before the throne o f God and praise Him each day in His temple. We confess that we are united with them as we are united with one another. " I can't describe how I felt that moment. I felt God's comforting presence and permission encouragement to rejoice over things to come. It was a sweet moment of fresh revelation that "He comes to make His blessings flow far as the curse if found." I was so concerned about facing the contrast of the joy of Christmas with my pain of loss, but what I found is that sorrow creates longing and Christmas offers the promise of all longings fulfilled. My sorrow opened my eyes to see more clearly the joy of what God accomplished through Jesus.

After the service I visited with friends including one woman whom I admire greatly. Her name is Shirley and she is probably in her eighties. She and her husband are generous, thoughtful and humble. I hope I can be like them some day. Shirley came over to us to wish us a Merry Christmas. Somehow she got to telling us about her daughter, Bonnie who died this year. She told us how Bonnie loved Christmas and how every year she baked for a month gave it all away. I don't pretend to know what Shirley is going through, but I recognize her need to remember her daughter's life here and also to acknowledge that her life continues in perfect peace and joy. With a smile on her face she said, "This Christmas is a celebration of Bonnie's death." Any other day I would have thought it strange that she said she was celebrating Bonnie's death since most people speak of celebrating a loved one's life. But this year I share a special bond with this grieving mother. Shirley and I both know death is just the beginning. We both know that Christmas points our grieving hearts heavenward.

Merry Christmas!

New Ornament, New Name

I've been looking for an ornament for my second baby in heaven and I finally found one:

I like it because the snowflake reminds me that God makes each person unique regardless of how long they live or how big they grow. I can't wait to meet this special person someday.

I also decided on a name. Selah. The meaning is ambiguous, but I like the common understanding, "Pause and consider". In my baby fever, my second loss caused me to pause and consider all the LORD has done for me and even though I am in pain, to conclude He is good. I found a second meaning: literally "to hang" which implies weighing -translated in Job 28:19, "valued". I like both meanings together. Selah reminds me that my baby has weight in this world and eternal weight in the next. He/she touched my life by bringing me closer to the heart of God who loves us both.

Here is Shalem's ornament:

I found this back in September. It completed the memory box I made for Shalem and I intend to keep it there year round when it's not on the tree. It reminds me that God is using my pain for something beautiful. I am humbled to see the beauty unfolding in unexpected ways. I already mentioned in another post that Shalem means "complete, safe, unharmed, peaceful, perfect, whole, full, at peace with God". Shalem reminds me both my babies are safe.


I love having these ornaments on the tree. I didn't want Shalem's ornament up without Selah's; it was too painful at first anyway. The concept of Christmas after loss took some getting used to, but now I see that Christmas is about celebrating the One who came to "bind up the broken hearted." (Isaiah 61:1) I'm so thankful for all the ways I have to honor and remember my babies. I'm thankful for their short, beautiful lives. 

Missing Shalem

I haven't been feeling very motivated today. It's one o'clock and I'm still in my pajamas. I forgot that my due date is coming up. According to my calculations I was due December 6th. I told people December 9th because that's what my midwife would go by. I didn't have a specific date in mind; I just knew it would be early December. It could be any day now. I know it wasn't meant to be, but I can't help letting my mind wander to that parallel reality where my baby lives.

Meredith helped me drop my defenses and start to grieve the way I need to. Earlier today I was lying down resting and she came to cuddle with me. I told her I was sad because the baby would have been born sometime around now. She had some questions about how big he/she would be, but there was no sadness. She has gradually stopped bringing up the babies and when she mentions them now it is in a casual context. She has found acceptance. She has the benefit of a simple faith unclouded by too much human reason. She brought me some dinosaur toys and asked if I wanted to play. We started playing and she said, "This is what we would be doing if you were in labor right now. You would be lying down and I would be here playing with you." I think she was remembering when I actually was in "labor" this past Mother's Day. That is pretty much what we did that day: she brought me toys, and I played between contractions. Her little comment brought some tears. Not too many, but enough that I knew I was in touch with the big "what if" that brings so much pain; the "what if" I need to visit sometimes.

A little later, Meredith found me crying. She asked what was wrong and I told her I was sad about the baby. She said, "You have me, ya know. You don't have to be sad about the baby because you still have me." I held her and told her I was sooo glad I have her. I told her I was still sad about the babies because my heart grew new places for them. She wanted to know where those places were so I said they were like imaginary containers full of love and I had one for each child. She still didn't seem satisfied. I don't ever want her to feel like she's not enough. How could I explain? While we were eating, one of our cats was begging at the table. We have two cats, Tigger and Emily who are both important members of the family. I said, "You love Tigger and Emily don't you?" "Yes." Then I asked if she would be sad if one died, but not the other and of course she said "yes". I told her that's a little bit like what it's like to have kids and why I can love her and miss the others. Then we started talking about the different plans Jesus had for each of them. The two babies went to heaven right away, but He wanted her to live. We talked about the other plans God might have for her someday. Today she thinks she will be a mother and a zookeeper who lets her kids feed the animals.

After talking to Meredith and seeing things through her eyes, I wondered what my little Shalem would say if he/she could talk to me now. "Why are you crying Mommy? I'm safe here with Jesus. We'll all be together again, you'll see." I imagine my Shalem is a little like Meredith with a simple faith that doesn't question God's goodness and His promise to make everything new. I would explain that my heart is learning to let go because we can't be together now. I'm still on the side of heaven where death stings and I can't see how it all works out.