Monday, August 6, 2012


Next week Whit will start Kindergarten. Yes, that child is five. No, I cannot believe it. The twins’ fifth birthday was especially hard this year…Whit asked us to get Webb a cake as well. I called to order two small cookie cakes (knowing I couldn’t do it in person), and the girl taking my order said, “You have twins?!? You’re so lucky.” I just said, “Thank you.” Watching Whit sing to Webb, blow out his candles, cry when he didn’t understand why he doesn’t remember him, that was all as horrific as you would expect. Watching only one red curly haired boy race out to his big boy bike was enough to bring me to my knees. I kept remembering the twins’ first birthday and how Webb dug into the cake and smiled his precious little grin. I don’t know how we have celebrated four more birthdays without him. So next week, Whit will walk into school with his brother Bo and begin his academic career. Kindergarten. I am constantly wondering what Webb would have been like at 5, how he would have related to his other two brothers, what he’d be saying about Kindergarten. Luckily, Whit’s age prevents him from realizing the enormous gaping hole the rest of us will see when those two walk into the door of the school next week. This was one of those milestones I’ve looked forward to and dreaded all at once. It’s a big one, and it’s hard, and I’m sad. There’s really no other way to say it. My fears are still there. I still think all my children have cancer if they are tired, not hungry, have a fever, a bruise or a headache. There is still a lot sadness mixed in with the happiness. There is still a lot of faith, a lot of love and a lot of hope. God lifts us when it seems impossible…He continues to reveal Himself in ways I cannot even fathom. I know He’ll be there next week, and I picture Webb sitting on His lap, looking down at all of us as the boys start school. Smiling and pointing and telling Jesus how proud he is of us. We trusted in Him, and found new strength….now we will soar high on wings like eagles, we will run and not grow weary, walk and not faint.

He will feed his flock like a shepherd.
He will carry the lambs in his arms,
holding them close to his heart.
He will gently lead the mother sheep with their young. Isaiah 40:11

Monday, December 5, 2011

The truth is plain to see - she was sent to rescue me.

There are times in your life where you feel forsaken. Where nothing is going right, in a big way. When desperate prayers go unanswered month after month. When you are convinced nothing good will ever happen again. Since December 23, 2008, that is how I felt. A little lost, a little desperate, insecure about the future and continuously wondering "Why, God? When, God?" Losing Webb was the

worst imaginable experience on Earth. Then I had a traumatic miscarriage 7 months later that left me, in some doctor's minds, completely infertile. I thought to myself, "Why wouldn't God want me to have more children?" I didn't feel like He owed me a child, but I was confused as to why future children seemed impossible. Yet, a small, still voice kept whispering, "Wait on me," everytime I asked Him if another child was in store for us. I begged Him to take the desire out of my heart if He did not want me to have another baby, but the desire remained. In January 2010 I was lead to LA, to a magnificent doctor who was able to remove the scar tissue caused by my D&C, scar tissue doctors in Atlanta seemed skeptical could be removed. I thought that surgery solved al my problems; I was wrong. After three chemical pregnancies, more research and more prayer, I was able to get the doctors here to diagnose what I suspected all along--- that the infection caused by the miscarriage/ D&C was still present. Again, I was led to a wonderful doctor, this time in New York City, who was able to use a special antibiotic treatment, and my infection was gone. Two months later, I was pregnant again. But after four failed attempts, I did not get my hopes up. But ultrasound after ultrasound, appointment after appointment, I felt a calmness in my heart. The doctors were on high alert, telling me I was "high risk," and even saying a few times they thought my prior issues were causing placenta problems. I remained calm, knowing in my heart everything was going to be ok. Then, on November 28 at 9:45 PM, my precious miracle was placed into my waiting arms, and I felt.....blessed. She weighed over 8 pounds, and had the most beautiful scream I have ever heard. I looked into her eyes and knew I would never be the same, this time, in a good way. Am I still sad over losing my precious Webb? Of course, maybe today even more than almost three years ago. I know he is his sister's guardian angel; I am just sad she won't get to meet him in this lifetime. Having this child does not replace the one I lost. It does not mean my fears are gone. But seeing this miracle of life, God's greatest blessing, gives us hope. Hope for a future that seemed shaky these past three years. Hope that we will make it, despite all the odds.

Bess Catherine Broach
November 28, 2011
9:45 PM
Eight pounds, Five ounces
19 3/4 inches

Monday, June 6, 2011

Two years, five months, one week and four days

Sometimes it seems so much further away. Other times, it feels like it just happened yesterday. Here is where I am at two years, five months, one week and four days :

I’ll never get over it.

I can still laugh until my stomach hurts.

I still cry at the drop of a hat.

The people I love still save me every day, but only God can give me peace.

I have a new appreciation for everything.

Important things matter more; trivial things matter less.

I love bigger.

I am more afraid my kids will get sick, hit by a car, bitten by a snake or four thousand other possibilities that never crossed my mind before.

I am afraid I am forgetting little things about him.

At times, I struggle to keep it together.

I still wonder, “Why us?”

I still have hope.

I think we are going to make it.

Yesterday, the twins turned four. Whit asked me if he has two birthdays since he and Webb were born on the same day. I said we just have to celebrate double for Webb down here, but think of the party he’s having in heaven! He looked so sad. I had to excuse myself and cry. June 5 is a day of what could have been and what will be. We are so blessed by our precious Whit, and we miss Webb so fiercely it hurts. I can’t believe we’ve celebrated three birthdays without him. I long to see what he would have been like at age four. When I get to heaven, I hope he’s still 18 months and I get to watch him grow up. Does it work that way?

We have big things happening right now. We are having another baby! I want to tell you all the whole story, but I am going to save it for another post. I am fourteen weeks along, and so far everything looks good. Don’t even get me started on the fears I have been battling. I would sure appreciate your prayers for this sweet little soul we have already fallen head over heels in love with.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011


There are so many days when I feel and see myself getting better. Times when I look back on the past two and a half years and think, “Ok, I am getting through it.” And then there are times when still it stops me dead in my tracks. The other day I was sitting in my office, and all of the sudden I had a vivid flashback of being in the hospital with Webb, and I was once again crippled with pain. The fact I lost Webb is something I still think about no less than 20 times an hour. Maybe more. But the actual flashbacks of the hospital and funeral started to come less and less the past several months. Maybe that’s why the latest round hurt so incredibly. It’s surreal to see his identical twin grow and thrive. It gives me a glimpse into what Webb would look like and be saying and doing, but he was his own unique person, and I just want to see him, right next to his brothers, sharing in their fun. I don’t know how to make this life fit into what my family used to be. I don’t know how to be completely happy here when my heart still aches for what I once had. I feel so helpless. I know I can survive just about anything that is thrown my way, but gosh, I don’t want to. I want to go back to the days where I expected the best instead of always anticipating the worst. It’s almost as if I’m scared to believe anything good can happen. I remember walking into the twins’ room right before Webb got sick. They were curled up in their cribs, right next to one another, bottoms in the air, sleeping soundly. I looked at them, and then Bo sleeping in the room next door, his hand curled around three extra pacifiers, and I had this feeling of utter joy. I actually remember saying, “God, what did I do to deserve all this perfection?” I will never forget that moment of feeling like my life was everything I wanted it to be. I will never feel that again on Earth. Because no matter how many wonderful things will come our way, there will always be that hole, that something missing. I want it all back. That moment, those days, the perfect 18 months of my life where all my children were safe in their beds. I want it back.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Hold on to my hand....

Thanks to everyone for your kind words about Kaki. Her death has certainly been upsetting, and 2011 has not gotten off to a wonderful start. Around the time of Kaki's death, I had some very adverse reactions to some antibiotics I was on, and on Super Bowl Sunday, I woke up in the middle of the night because my hands and feet were tingling...I walked to the bathroom and realized I was kind of having a hard time moving, and when I got to the bathroom, I was extremely nauseous and totally out of it. My body felt like it was on fire, and I looked down and was purple from chest to toe. I don't know why, but I instinctively knew that I should immediately call 911- and it's a good thing I did because I was in anaphylactic shock. By the time the paramedics got there, I was slurring my words, my blood pressure was dangerously low and I was taken to the emergency room. Luckily, those reactions are the kind that you can treat 99% of the time, and some epenepherine, benadryl and IV fluids reversed the situation pretty quickly. But it was definitely traumatizing. I felt like a fragile little bird. A few days ago, I went to Webb's grave and "talked" with him for a while, and I told him I felt like I keep escaping death. I'm not really scared of death anymore, but the thought of leaving Bo and Whit motherless has certainly given me more than enough reason to want to live. I just don't know sometimes how I will keep on with the pain and fear that constantly reside in my heart. I feel most days like my soul has the flu. I feel like we've had such a run of bad luck for the past two and a half years that I've started to anticipate the worst instead of the best. I have also recently begun processing the miscarriage I suffered seven months after Webb died. At the time, I was still clouded in grief over Webb, so I was unable to process the trauma of losing my unborn baby at 13 weeks. But now I am realizing how much I feel that loss, too. I found out through genetic testing shortly after the miscarriage that our baby was a girl- which I barely processed at the time since I had become so sick with infection after the D&C. But lately, I have been thinking about her. Mourning her and wondering if she is with her brother. A person I have met since that miscarriage told me she had a dream about Webb where he kept telling her about his sister....that person was convinced that meant there is a daughter in Zac's and my future. But all I could think of was the baby I miscarried. Was it her he was talking about? I don't know how all that works, but it gives me a small sense of peace, thinking they are together waiting for me. I don't equate the pain from my miscarriage to losing Webb- in fact, it's not even on the same planet. But the month after month effect these events have had on my life have been very exhausting. I am tired. Life gets better and worse every day. It's a crazy way to explain it, but it's pretty accurate. I feel so changed, and yet, I am the exact same person I've always been. Bo and Whit are turning in to such precious, thoughtful little people and I practically burst with love every time I see their sweet faces. Every night, after they are asleep, I go to each of their beds, lean down, inhale their sweet scents and whisper, "Thank you could I ask for more...." and I mean it. I am so thankful to be their mother. I have no right to ask God for anything more or less than He is willing to give me. I could not ask for any more than what I have- precious children, an amazing husband I love more every day, parents that mean the world to me and friends that have saved my life. I do feel blessed. And yet, I am always praying for a break. A break from the fear that grips my heart when it comes to my children's health. A break from the stress that is obviously wreaking havoc on my physical well-being. A break from the constant wonder about what is in store. So for those who have asked for specific prayer requests from me, there you go. These are my daily requests. There is a song I listen to almost every day by Nichole Nordeman (love her). It is called "I am," and there are so many great words in that song about how God is with us throughout the various phases of our lives....such a great reminder He is the beginning and end....and the only One who can truly mend our broken hearts. I am working on it.

I Am
Nichole Nordeman

Pencil marks on a wall
I wasn't always this tall,
You scattered some monsters from beneath my bed,
You watched my team win,
You watched my team lose,
You watched when my bicycle went down again,

And When I was weak unable to speak,
still I could call You by name,
and I said “Elbow healer, Superhero,
come if You can,” and You said “I am”

Only 16, life is so mean, what kind of curfew is at ten PM
You saw my mistakes, You watched my heart break
Heard when I swore I’d never love again

When I was weak, unable to speak,
still I could call You by name,
and I said “Heart-ache Healer, Secret-keeper,
be my Best Friend” and You said “I am”

You saw me wear white, by pale candlelight,
I said forever to what lies ahead
two kids and a dream, with kids that can scream
too much it might seem when it’s two AM

when I am weak, unable to speak,
still I will call You by name.
“Oh Shepherd, Savior, Pasture-maker,
hold on to my hand,” and You say “I am.”

The winds of change,
And circumstance blow in and all around
us so we find a foothold that’s familiar,
And bless the moments that we feel You nearer
Life had begun, I was woven and spun,
You let the angels dance around the throne, who can say when,
But they’ll dance again, when I am free and finally headed home

I will be weak, unable to speak,
still I will call You by name
“Creator, Maker, Life-sustainer,
Comforter, Healer, My Redeemer,
Lord and King, Beginning and
the End, I am, yes, I am.”

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Kaki is holding my baby....

Catherine Marie Munch Mauzy died peacefully and surrounded by loving family in Atlanta, Georgia on Tuesday, January 25, 2011. Catherine was born on October 5, 1924 in Rochester, Illinois and was the daughter of Reverend Henry Curtis and H. Leona Munch and the wife of John Conway Mauzy, Jr. "Coss," all who predecease her. Catherine and John were married March 27,1942 in St. Joseph,MO. They lived in several Illinois cities throughout their marriage, including Jerseyville, where they raised their four children, Terry, Cathie, Pamela and Dawn, and where Catherine worked as a legal assistant. Catherine and John moved to Lake Worth, Florida in 1974 where she continued to work as a legal assistant until John's death in 1993. Catherine spent the last 5 years of her life in Chattanooga, TN and Atlanta, GA where she was lovingly cared for by her children.
Catherine is also predeceased by her brothers, Joe and Henry, her sister Florence and her great grandson Webber Bennett Broach. She is survived by her sister Mary Moon of AZ, her four children and their spouses: Peg and Terry Mauzy, Cathie and Jim Ross, Pamela and Stephen Webber, Dawn and Steve Rippley; her precious grandchildren: Shawn Evans, Ashley Webber Broach, Krista Ross, Justin Mauzy and her four great grandchildren: Chloe and Ariane Evans and Bo and Whitaker Broach.
Funeral services will be held at Oakland United Methodist Church, Oakland,IL on Sunday, January 30, 2011 at 1:00 pm. A graveside service will follow the ceremony. In lieu of flowers, the family asks for donations to be made to Crossroads Hospice in memory of her. Crossroads Hospice, 1957 Lakeside Parkway, Suite 500, Tucker, GA 30084

Monday, January 17, 2011

Old and new...

I have not blogged since December 13 because there just don't seem to be words to describe what another Christmas without Webb felt like, or what it feels like to have lived through another anniversary of his death, or what it sounds like when your children ask if Santa comes to heaven. Whit has decided when he outgrows his clothes, it's time to pass them on to Webb. He also loves for me to tell him how he and Webb were in my tummy together at the exact same time. He hasn't quite grasped the twin concept and instead sees Webb the way we all do- as an almost 19 month old baby. It's heartbreakingly complicated, this life we live. We are, as usual, overwhelmed by the amount of love that was showered upon us during the days leading up to the 26th. Cards, texts, emails, voicemails, little gifts, a surprise dinner and bottle of wine- we truly have amazing friends. Complete strangers emailed me to tell me we were on their minds. God has touched us all by showing us what goodness looks like. So we are blessed, even if you can't imagine having been through what we've been through. If you have been there, you know what I'm talking about.

On another note, my grandmother, Kaki, is having a rough time. We have a special relationship. I am named for her and spent all of my life with her and loving her the way only a granddaughter can. She has suffered from dementia for many years, and she really does not know exactly who we are anymore, which is heartbreaking. We will lose Kaki twice, as it is with all dementia patients. About ten days ago, she had a heart attack. My mom told me things were bad, hospice was called. I raced out of a deposition, tears streaming down my face, a little hysterical. I know Kaki is suffering, and that when Kaki passes, she will be at peace, but I couldn't stop the tears. I got to the hospital and raced to her side, and there was no question she knew me. We made our faces at each other and sat in peace for a while. The doctor said she would not make it through the day, but she did, and as I sit here typing, she is still with us. Since I had Bo, I have been so sad Kaki has not been able to interact with my children the way she would have pre-dementia. She would have absolutely adored those boys. And when Webb died, I said a silent prayer of thanks she had no idea because if she did, it would have killed her. But in the hospital last week, I got a little excited that soon Kaki would be in heaven with Webb. I know he will be waiting for her, and she will spend everyday until I get there spoiling that baby rotten just as she did me, loving on him and telling him stories about me. So even though I am not ready for Kaki to go, I know her legacy will live on and her heavenly days will far outshine the days she is living now. Please help me pray for a merciful end to her magnificent life.