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.”


  1. Love you bunches, Ash.

  2. Love you sweet Ashley. Prayers will be said for you today, and always.

  3. It feels like my heart just fell out of my chest as I read your blog today. Your transparency is so beautiful, Ashley. I'm so sorry it's been so hard these past couple of years. Thank you for your honesty.

    I'm praying for you and aching with you.

    Psalm 27:13