A year later, and I'm still trying to figure it out.

The past eight days, David and I have been celebrating our first and only child. Our son. Our Samuel. I can't believe it has been a year already. That a whole year ago Samuel was born into this world. Perfect. Beautiful. Pure love. And yet, as we celebrate and recall all the grief and joy we've experienced in the past year I still struggle to believe that David and I are parents to a baby who lived for only 12 days. Some days I still find it hard to believe I am a mother.

One huge block I've been trying to overcome since January is accepting that my situation is in fact rare. Yes, 1 out of 4 confirmed pregnancies end in miscarriage, infant death or stillbirth...but my situation is still very, very rare. Only one out of 2,000 confirmed pregnancies--that is 0.0005%--will result in a fatal chromosomal mutation such as T13 or T18. 0.0005%. Then why do I still think this will happen again? Why do I still worry for the babies of my friends? Why...am I still jealous of those friends who have healthy babies? If my baby could be born with Trisomy 13, then it must not be so rare. I keep expecting this to happen to other babies because I know it can be a very real occurrence. Not because I want it to happen. Never, ever would I wish that upon someone. But this expectation just lingers. Heavy. It has become a huge, massive brick wall blocking me from proceeding on the hopeful, optimistic path I once walked. This has been the block I am struggling to overcome since the holidays. I just can't accept that my baby was the 1 in 2,000.

Sure, I can see that God has given David and I the grace to be parents to a T13 baby, to be able to pick up and carry this cross. That we were chosen among all our family, friends and colleagues to parent such a baby. I can see that we were blessed with a miracle simply by the fact that Samuel was born living, and lived for 12 days. I can see that God wanted Samuel to meet his parents, and that God wanted us to meet Samuel. I can see that through Samuel's birth and death and acceptance into Heaven through the sacrament of Baptism, David and I have been given a great gift. That we have received many blessings as a result of Samuel. And I have seen how the love of God is more powerful than anything on this limited Earth. More powerful than fear. More powerful than pain. More powerful than death.

That doesn't mean I still don't ask why me...

Through all the blogs, articles, books and doctors' wisdom I have of course become a well-versed and experienced student of grief. Why me is an expected, natural, normal part of the grieving process. And grieving is cyclical [oh joy]. And won't really ever end. It eases. It lessens. It can become peaceful if the event of which one grieves is embraced. All I am saying is that sometimes it is very, very, very difficult to remember to place my trust in Him. To offer my sorrow, my pain and fear to Jesus.

I have been thinking a great deal about Blessed Mother Teresa in the past week as I try to understand how my fears and doubts coincide with my faith. I don't need to go into the details of her work in order to help one understand the intensity of what she encountered. Day in and day out she witnessed the pains and sufferings of millions of people. It is perfectly understandable, perfectly logical that she would experience doubt of God's love and mercy as a result. Where was His endless love and mercy while He allowed so many millions of His very own to suffer in such a way? Yet she never, ever gave up. Her doubt and her own grief for these people remained present throughout her ministry, as her writings published in Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light: The Private Writings of the Saint of Calcutta.

“If I ever become a Saint–I will surely be one of “darkness.” I will continually be absent from Heaven–to light the light of those in darkness on earth.”

–Mother Teresa of Calcutta   

Like Mother Teresa, I have not lost faith. I have not lost hope. I have not lost love. But those three can be hidden in the darkness of grief and fear. Her example of discipline is one I strive to model. Never give up. Keep listening. Even in darkness, keep watch. And by being disciplined like Blessed Mother Teresa, I have seen how God continues to call me. Continues to offer His grace so that I may push on.

He reveals His love to me through the Sacrament of Marriage. Some days I see God through my own sacrifices within our marriage. Others, God speaks directly through David's actions. David admits he does not always know what to say or how to provide reassurance, but there have been moments where he speaks so freely that it can be nothing less than the Holy Spirit guiding both of us toward God. Awe and wonder. Total awe and wonder in those moments.

I thank God for the gift of the Sacraments, for the very reason that when I feel alone or lost all I simply must do is turn to, or receive one of those Sacraments. In marriage, we receive the sacrament each time we give fully--that is physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually--to each other, through the act of marital embrace (a.k.a. sex). I have the opportunity to receive the Sacrament of Holy Eucharist and witness God's unconditional love every day in the Mass. If I miss Mass on Sundays--and therefore miss Eucharist--boy, am I in bad shape. And of course there's the Sacrament of Reconciliation. This, of all the Sacraments, is the one I feel the most re-connection with God. I have come to understand the gift of the Sacraments more deeply as I have been working harder to fight through the darkness. God keeps calling. And I continue to [eventually] find him.

There are still times where not even receiving a Sacrament can help me feel God's love and presence in my life. Sometimes, the darkness I feel is well, dark. Last October, I stumbled upon a God's providence kind of moment. At that point, I experienced my first bit of really dark darkness. God was no where to be found (well, He was...I was just a bit distracted by my own fears at the time). And then, out of no where I decided to catch up on reading my blogs. That very day, Heather over at Mama Knows, Honeychild wrote "Go to Hell, You Old Bastard!" If you haven't read it yet and could use a strong belly laugh, I encourage you to do so. After you're done here, of course. Upon reading and laughing and crying over Heather's profound articulation of the push and pull of good vs. evil, I felt called to learn about the Divine Mercy Chaplet. For the first time in my life I completely offered my own cross to Jesus and His Divine Mercy. Windows were suddenly open in that nasty dark room. A weight seemed to be lifted off my chest. Since then, when the room darkens, when I feel like I can no longer carry my cross I pull out my Rosary beads (or my Laudate app, because we all know my phone goes with me everywhere and the Rosary does not necessarily...) and spend five minutes with Jesus. Amazing what a little time with Jesus can do to lighten the darkness in our lives.

A year later, I'd really like to say I have rid myself of fear and worry and anger and doubt. That I am in total peace. But the reality is, I will only be in total peace once I am received into Heaven. Until then, I will continue to struggle. I will continue to need the Sacraments and prayer. I will continue to need your prayers. I know many, many people in this world pray for us. I pray for you too. Thank you does not adequately express the gratitude I feel for your prayers. Will you in turn accept my prayers? May you be filled with intense faith and hope for Heaven and eternity with our Lord Jesus. And may God bless you always. Amen.

Just a weekend

Phew. Nice to take some time off from writing after that cumbersome week of daily posts! Oh, I'm just kidding. Whining about "being forced" by some invisible iron hand to write every day... I actually enjoyed the exercise. It was challenging. Very challenging. To come up with a topic, then to write something at least slightly coherent that others might find interesting. So much [self-imposed] pressure!!

Anyway, since I last wrote we began the season of Lent in this little household. More self discipline. More focus on our relationships with Jesus. More reminders of what it means to be grateful. Hopeful. Joyful. I was raised with the teachings that Lent is a time of penance. And don't get me wrong--I'm not saying Lent is not a time of penance. But for me, Lent has become more of a time for gratitude and hope, not so much sorrow. What I am saying is that David and I focus on how this time of penance, this time of acknowledging our faults will bring us a greater sense of gratitude for Jesus and His mercy, greater gratitude for the blessings God gives us in spite of our faults, greater gratitude for the love of God. Throughout our Lenten penance, we come to know Jesus and His sacrifice for us more deeply. And through that we can gain a greater sense of hope, and therefore greater joy. So here's to a happy Lent!

Speaking of happy, my mom and I took a little trip across the state to my grandparents' farm last weekend. We were celebrating the upcoming wedding of her youngest brother and his fiance with a little bridal shower. It was also a chance to get to know my soon-to-be-aunt. As I've mentioned before, I love all my aunties. One is only a month younger than me. Another is only five years older. The next oldest is nine years older. And so on. I love having aunts so close to my age. They are more like cousins--or even sisters--than aunts. So to welcome another aunt into the family, especially one who is so down to earth, such a hard worker, an avid learner and observer, and has pretty tough skin to handle the crazy that is our ginormous family, is pretty exciting.

My mom hosted the lovely little shower.

A couple of delicious salads, some pesto pinwheels (cream cheese, pesto, Parmesan cheese, sun-dried tomatoes and shredded chicken--YUM!), zucchini bites and fruit. Just a sweet, lovely little luncheon.

can't forget the cake!

We were entertained by several games, my favorite being one where we were asked to guess my future-aunt's age by looking at her childhood pictures. She is David's age and only two years older than me--also tall and lanky, like me--so I figured I had an advantage to guessing her age...that is if I could remember what I looked like at five years old. :)

Words of wisdom, date night ideas and family traditions for the happy couple

I love the socializing aspect of showers most of all, especially having the chance to chat with the aunts I haven't visited with in months. This weekend I had the chance to finally catch up with Lisa--the one five years older than me. She and her husband lived in my college town when they were first married. She had her first baby my freshman year, so naturally I grew very attached to this particular cousin as I watched her grow into a toddler, then preschooler and now little girl. This baby was my flower girl four years ago, and now is the big sister to three other beautiful little girls! Needless to say it is a rare treat to have a focused conversation with my dear aunt Lisa. A welcomed and very much appreciated treat, too!

With most showers I will usually default to the standard kitchen gadget gift. All have appreciated this, but I felt the urge to do something a little outside the box. I so wanted my future-aunt to feel welcomed by something more sentimental--still functional, but sentimental. A few Pinterest searches later, I concluded a wine basket for the couple's first year would be perfect!

After all, what better way to celebrate and highlight the firsts of a new marriage than with wine? (well...I suppose I would typically say beer, but not in this case!).

Open on wedding night: Lady in White from Kestrel

Upon your first fight: Mad Housewife Cab Sav

At (or after!) your first gathering at home: House Wine!

On your first anniversary: Cupcake Red Velvet Cake

When that first baby comes into the picture...
dad can enjoy a glass of Barefoot Crisp White! :)

I attached a clever little poem that I adapted from ones I found on various other blogs to each bottle, hopefully explaining when and why my future-aunt and uncle should drink them. We'll see if they follow the rules. Regardless of how they enjoy the gift, I wish them the very best in all their "firsts"!  

Happy shower, soon-to-be-aunt Liz!  

Do Not Be Afraid

I will come to you in the silence

I will lift you from all your fear

You will hear My voice

I claim you as My choice

Be still, and know I am near

I am hope for all who are hopeless

I am eyes for all who long to see

In the shadows of the night,

I will be your light

Come and rest in Me

Do not be afraid, I am with you

I have called you each by name

Come and follow Me

I will bring you home

I love you and you are mine

I am strength for all the despairing

Healing for the ones who dwell in shame

All the blind will see, the lame will all run free

And all will know My name

Do not be afraid, I am with you

I have called you each by name

Come and follow Me

I will bring you home

I love you and you are mine

I am the Word that leads all to freedom

I am the peace the world cannot give

I will call your name, embracing all your pain

Stand up, now, walk, and live

Do not be afraid, I am with you

I have called you each by name

Come and follow Me

I will bring you home

I love you and you are mine

You Are Mine, by David Haas

Today we sang this beautiful song during Eucharist at Mass. The piano began the 16 bar intro and my heart paused. My voice caught in the back of my throat. I had to hold my breath to keep the tears back. This song was one of Samuel's songs. We chose it for his funeral Mass. So beautiful, full of hope. A much needed reminded today. Painful. But much needed.