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.

'Tis the Season...

I miss him. The most wonderful time of the year is the most difficult for us. The lights, music and smells take me back to the three days we spent in the hospital, the last three days we spent with our Webb. Bo and Whit do not know we associate Christmas with their brother’s death. They are blissfully unaware of the significance of those dates, and we are grateful for that. But that does not mean they don’t feel it. In fact, we talk about him more than ever these days: putting the decorations up, hanging his ornaments, talking about the two Christmases when there were three boys on Santa’s lap and looking at those pictures….. It has prompted a series of questions. First, from Whit, who for the first time asked, “Mommy, when is Webbie coming home?” And then, from Bo, who is older now and needs more details about why his brother is in heaven. I answered all their questions as honestly as I could. I cried when talking with Bo because he asked, “Why did you let Webbie die? How many doctors did you take him to?” He cannot comprehend the parents who fix all of his problems couldn’t fix his brother’s. And I am heartbroken he had to come to that realization at the age of five. So, no, we are not feeling merry and bright. Christmas is incredibly and increasingly difficult. Most people acknowledge this- some don’t know what to say. But our little unit of four remains as close as ever, wiping each other’s tears and holding each other close, and really, that is all that matters. We love each other very much. We are grateful for our Savior’s unfailing love for us. We are hopeful for blessings to come. And we are remembering our angel with every minute of every day. Love and peace to all of you this season. And thank you for loving and praying for our family.

Ashley

“If you know someone who has lost a child or lost anybody who's important to them, and you're afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died, they didn't forget they died. You're not reminding them. What you're reminding them of is that you remember that they lived, and that's a great, great gift.” ~ Elizabeth Edwards

The Power (or not?) of Prayer

Children are dying. Everyday. I have heard of four just this past month. And today, as I went to preschool to read to Whit's class, I find out a 5 year old precious member of our church was diagnosed with neuroblastoma. I want to scream and throw up at the same time. Why is this happening?? Why are our children dying of cancer?!? I feel helpless and pointless and scared....because, by the way, once you actually lose a child, it doesn't mean you've "paid your dues." I am highly aware and sensitive to the fact I could lose another. And that makes me want to die. It's so risky, this business of having children. It's the most vulnerable you will ever be because the love you feel for them is so overwhelming and intense....which makes something happening to them (or even the thought of something happening to them) so incredibly painful and hard to take. What can we do? Before Webb died, I would say we should round up the troops, pray like crazy and hope for a miracle. And I suppose even after Webb died, I would still say the same things, but for very different reasons. Before Webb died, I believed if we prayed hard enough, long enough and had enough people by our side, we could change the outcome. I know now that is not how it works. God can still perform a miracle, but it won't be because we stormed the throne and "made" him do so. Why did I ever think I was important enough or powerful enough to change God's mind?? God already knows what the outcome will be. He knows the day we find out the diagnosis whether He will perform a miracle of healing or whether He will call someone home. No matter how many "prayer petitions" or "prayer warriors" or how many people we have lined up begging Him for the same thing, the outcome is still up to God. And we don't get to change His mind. Of course we don't. Do you really think God looked down on us and said, "Well, Webb is sick, but they only got 1000 people to pray, and the little girl down the hall got 2000, so I will spare her and 'take' Webb." ?? No. That is obviously not how it works. SO WHAT IS THE POINT? WHY EVEN PRAY? My past few Bible study groups have wrestled with this question, as I know many, many more have for time immemorial. What is the point of prayer? If God already knows the outcome, why do we bother? I don't know for sure. But to quote a dear friend (hi, Amy Walker)- the point of prayer is not to change God...it's to change you. Because not one person can lay in the bed with their sick or dying child, calling out to God for a miracle for 3 straight days and nights, and walk away without a changed perspective on the world. And having been that person, who laid in that bed and went home with every single prayer unanswered, I can still tell you God listened. And yes, if He performed a miracle and healed Webb that day, I would have given Him all the glory and probably even said it was the power of prayer. But really, the healing would have been the power of God...the prayers would have changed the people praying but not the ultimate outcome. I know the Bible teaches us to pray. We have to, for our sake and for our sanity. But what about when the prayers are unanswered? What then? Do we pull away from God because He does not constantly perform miracles? Of course not. I still pray. All the time. I still ask God for a certain outcome, even if I believe He already knows what that outcome is. And I am a better person for the prayer, even if I sometimes do not know the point. My God still is the all-powerful healer, and the one who performs miracles. We just don't get to tell Him when He should do it. All this is to say, yes, I think you should keep praying. Of course I think you should still ask for a miracle and for healing when you or your loved one is sick. But don't feel forsaken if those prayers aren't answered - it's nothing you did or didn't do. The flip side of saying that healing was caused by the power of prayer is that death happened because we didn't pray enough. And I just cannot believe God works that way. All that said, I would ask for the thousands of parents who have recently lost their child or may lose them and are living through an absolute nightmare right now- we need to round up the troops, pray like crazy and hope for a miracle. The miracle will be up to God. The change will be in you.

Poured out from the inside....

Two years ago today, Webb started his "episodes" of throwing up and then continuing with normal play. Two years ago, I started taking him to doctors and doing test after test. Two years ago, I had no answers, except that he was probably ok- he was growing and talking and acting otherwise fine. Two years ago, I thought life was perfect. I remember telling Zac, "One day we'll tell Webb about his throwing up, and how he scared us." Two years later, I am left with a giant hole and the reality that children get cancer. Children can die. And it's not always obvious that it's happening. In the past two years, I have struggled with more loss than I know what to do with. I have questioned God, gotten angry, wanted to give up and wondered WHY ME?! more times than I can count. I have fallen to my knees, begging God for answers. Sometimes the answers come, and they are not what I want to hear. Sometimes the answers don't come, and I am more confused than ever. Sometimes I feel at peace, sometimes I feel panic. I keep thinking as long as the boys continue to grow and thrive, I will be happy. That is my standard, but I know there are no guarantees. Surprisingly, I am not a miserable person. Those who know me can attest to the fact that I am usually smiling, quick to laugh and easy to be around. Most days it is not an act. Some days I deserve an Academy Award. I know everyone wants to say the one thing that will make me feel better, but the truth is, that "one thing" does not exist. I am so thankful for prayers as I struggle to adjust to this reality that will never seem right. This year, there is one less school bag, one less Halloween costume, one less laughing red haired boy than there should be. And nothing in this world can make that seem normal. So we pick up the pieces and do our best, sad for the people we used to be, but hopeful life will not always seem so....empty.

I feel so far from where I've been....

I wish I could say I have not updated this blog because I have been too busy, or too happy, or because nothing was really going on right now. I wish I could say I was at a place of contentment, and that nothing was bothering me, and that I am doing great. Unfortunately, I am not there yet. And at this point, I am wondering if I ever will be. Of course, I know that I will never have a time where I don’t desperately miss Webb. But I somehow thought by now, the intensity of the pain would have lessened. It has not, and that makes me believe it never will. I am no longer consumed with the pain, that is true, but the intensity of my grief is still as strong, if not stronger than ever. I am no longer protected by shock. And that is rough. Next week, Whit will go off to his second year of pre school, and for the second time all we will see is that Webb is not by his side. That huge, gaping, obvious hole is a part of our reality, and that is so unfair. Whit asks where Webb is, and Bo is always quick to add in his prayers, “Jesus, please take care of Webbie from up there.” Their sweet innocence breaks my heart and comforts it all at once. I do not know what I am doing. I have no answers. I am scared. Prayers have gone unanswered time after time, month after month, day after day, and that leaves me insecure, unsure, and a little panicky. My stability has been shaken to the core. Nothing is what I thought it would be. Change is certainly coming, and I hope it is change that brings great joy, but for now, I’ll take no more pain. I have the urge to run, but every time I try, I realize I am struggling with something I cannot escape from. The mind is complex, but the soul is even more complicated. My soul is still battered and bruised from saying goodbye to Webb, and nothing except eternal salvation can fix that. I am standing on the rock, looking toward the horizon. I can see peace in the distance, so close I can almost touch it, but it keeps slipping through my hands.

Keep on Keeping On....

Images of Webb are always in my mind. The same dream replays over, and over and over.

The dream where I still have him, and we're trying to make him well again. In the dream I have so much hope. I wake up and the heartbreak begins again. My sweet Whit won't go to sleep now without his twin's blanket. I check on him after he's fallen asleep, and Webb's blanket is always clutched tightly in his hand. The other day we bought the boys new shoes, and Whit wanted to know whether Webbie gets new shoes in heaven. Oh, how I wish my children did not have to ask questions like this. The pain is still raw, the grief is ever- moving, ever-present. The fears are still there, and I am sad my children will never know the carefree, innocent person I once was. While I try to be calm for them, it is obvious they sense my fears. This became most evident when I discovered Bo wasn't telling me when he felt bad because he didn't want me to worry. What a sweet boy, but clearly I need to try and get a grip. My fears about my children's health are constant, and I know it's justified and "normal" considering what we've been through, but I have to remember the Lord has it all in His hands. Hard to do when your living children are in pain and an ice cold hand squeezes your heart and takes you back to a cold day in December when the world stopped moving. Nonetheless, I am working on it. Praying about it. Asking God to keep me steady. And the boys' health is fine. We are, all things considered, doing well. Bo and Whit are growing and laughing and loving the way they should. We shield them from our pain. I answer their questions about Webb when they ask, but I am thankful they are still too little to comprehend what we've lost. I can barely comprehend it. We are clinging to the cross, resting in the truth He is mighty to save. Thanks as always for your prayers. They are precious to us all.

And I Can't be Holding on to What you've got, When all you've got is Hurt....

There are things that we don't want to happen but have to accept,
things we don't want to know but have to learn,
and people we can't live without but have to let go.
~ Author Unknown

Well, isn't that the truth? When I was younger, I never dreamed things would not go my way. Sure, I assumed I would have trials and tribulations like the rest of the world, but I also assumed it would be something I could handle, or at least look to several other people for advice on how to handle. I knew I'd probably lose my parents, and hoped it would be when they were very old and ready to leave this world. I thought about getting sick, about losing a job, about having a child go through a difficult experience, divorce, relationship issues, and all the other things I was familiar with. Losing a child? That never crossed my mind, and it was the first horrible thing that has ever happened to me. And I don't know anyone else it has happened to. And I'm afraid people are a little freaked out about how to be around me. And I don't know what to do about any of that most days. I realize I could stay in denial. I know plenty of people who do that on a regular basis. They think, "Well, if I just pretend this didn't happen, or this person didn't treat me this way, or that person still loves me or he didn't cheat on me, or even, he didn't die, everything will be the way it always has been." But all those people in denial are probably crazy (or will be shortly), and honestly, that is no way to live. We have to face the things that happen to us, and we have to face them head on. Who wants anything bad to happen? It's not the things that happen to us that define us, it's how we handle them. I am not an ostrich kind of girl. I don't put my head in the sand, and I detest people who do. I cannot stand pretending. And I honestly don't have the energy for it. Unfortunately, life has thrown some serious curves at me. I have had the worst case scenario play out before my eyes. And you know what, it sucks. Bad. But I cannot change it. And I cannot run from it. I can't even rationalize it or make sense of it. So the only choice is acceptance. I have to accept the fact that Webb is gone, even though it goes against every fiber of my being to do so. Accepting it does not mean getting over it, nor does it mean I don't think about him every minute of the day. It just means not fighting it, not torturing myself that it happened. After all, we will be together again, and until then, the Lord will carry us through every possible twist and turn. That much I know is true. Pretending will not carry the day, nor will it carry us. That is why I love the quote at the top of this entry. We often don't want a lot of things. We don't want to move, or our spouse to cheat, or lose a job, or our parents to disappoint us or our lives to be the way they turned out. But none of that matters, because if it's actually happening, it's something we have to deal with. Keeping it inside will poison our souls, and these little pieces of denial will add up until you are merely a shell of the person you once were. Accept. Learn. Let go. It is what God wants us to do, and it is what we must do for our sanity and the people who love us. I couldn't imagine losing a child, and I did. It happened. I can't pretend it didn't, and I really don't want anyone else to pretend it didn't either. I don't mind hearing about him. I long to hear about him. Bringing him up to us doesn't remind us he is gone- as though we could ever forget. It hasn't gone away. His birthday was hard this year, just like it was hard last year, and just like it will be every year until we are together again. It isn't a family secret that our child died. Bo and Whit know their brother is in heaven. Yes, it will be hard for them, but it is part of life, a huge part of our lives. Accept. Learn. Let go. Until you do, you will never be free. It may not make you happy, but it will make you real. And after all, if we cannot be honest with ourselves, who are we?