Happy

I am happy today.

Genuinely happy.

It's the first time in nineteen months.

I don't know how long it will "stick" to me, but I plan on enjoying every second of it.

It feels GREAT!

Show Us Your Ministry

Kelly, from Kelly's Korner, is doing something very special today. It's called, "show us your ministry". She had written, "If you have a blog devoted to something like foster parenting or adoption or the loss of a child or abuse or infertility or singleness or really anything you have that you have been through and now you try to encourage others - I want you to link up and put in the subject what your focus is. Write a post that day maybe sharing your story and your heart and offer some encouragement. And then I'd love to see everyone come visit that day and look for some encouragement for your struggle. Does that make sense? I think it could be really amazing! Or you may just have a regular family blog but you have experienced something that you would like to encourage others going through something similar - just link to that post!"


Here is my story...

I am a mother.

A mother of five beautiful boys.

My fourth son, Isaiah, is with Jesus. Safe.

I struggle, because he isn't with me.

I struggle, because I feel like I have lost a lifetime with him. I did.

I struggle, because I feel consumed by guilt.

My body failed me.

My body failed him.

The following is from a post that I wrote last summer after joining, "Walking With You." All who joined, were supposed to write a post about, "The Beginning Of My Journey."

This is what I wrote:

"August 3, 2008 was the start of a new journey in my life. From seven weeks to nineteen and a half weeks of pregnancy, I had a huge blood clot that was forming in my uterus. It was over three fourths of my placenta. I knew that there was a possibility that I would loose my child, but I guess I still looked at myself in the world's view.... "it won't happen to me." You may know what I'm talking about. It did happen to me. On the 2nd. of August, I was rushed to the hospital at 11:00pm. The blood clot had pulled away from the placenta, causing a partial placental abruption, which started a bleed that ended up becoming lethal. Not causing death to my son..... but a fast approaching death upon me.The next day, the 3rd. of August, I will NEVER forget. My doctor came into my room and sat at the end of my bed. She said that I had a condition called D.I.C. She said that we needed to deliver the placenta or I would be dead within the next twenty four hours. After the delivery, I still only had a 30% chance at survival. Wow! How will I be able to live after loosing my precious son? My son was healthy and alive. Why would God have me go through this? I couldn't answer that question yet. I had to start the dreaded death sentence. I had three little boys to go home to. At this point.... I had lost a piece of my heart. All the hopes and dreams that I had for this little one..... buried.I held my little boy as the beats of his heart slowed down to his last. I kept telling him how much I loved him as I held his hand in mine. God gave me fifteen minutes. I am thankful for that little time that I was blessed with. My little Isaiah got to begin life within me and end it within my arms.Why did God allow this? The answer to that question will have to wait until I get to heaven."


This blog is my safe place. I come here to write my thoughts. My fears. My regrets. I can be a little to honest on here at times too. I would rather be "real," than show you the fake Jenny. I have been able to sit in front of my computer screen, cry my eyes out, publish my post and then go on with my day.

I have two desires for this blog.

First... Sharing my son, Isaiah.

Second... Possibly helping someone that is hurting. Being able to write something in truth. Being blunt. Letting others know how "we" feel. The bereaved. The parents with aching, empty arms.

It's been said, that there is no greater loss, than the loss of your child. I couldn't agree more.


Through all of this pain, loss, and my questions of, "why?", I will still praise my God. Our God. HE reigns!

Exodus 15:18
The Lord shall reign for ever and ever.



Below, is a slide show that I made. I shared this slide show about one month ago. If you are new to my blog, please take a few minutes, and watch my story through various pictures. I tried to capture Isaiah's life through pictures and items that I have. These items are material objects, but hold extreme significance to me. You will have to pause my playlist at the bottom of my blog to hear the music on the slide show.

Make a Smilebox slideshow

The Memory Behind A Scent

Above, is a small bottle of perfume that will never leave my home. It's a .5 fl oz bottle of SHANIA, "Starlight." It was the best I had on my dresser, when I had to say goodbye to my little Isaiah. I sprayed a little on before I buried him. I sprayed a little on before his memorial.

This isn't a bad memory. It's a good one.

It takes me back to the time I held him close to my heart. In my arms.

When I need to go back in time, remembering when I held my littlest buddy, I slowly inhale that sweet scent of, "Starlight."

It may not be the most fancy of perfumes. . . . but it's priceless to me.

Oh...the memory behind a scent.

I'm Feeling Better Now

I felt really torn not coming to my blog. After feeling better the last few days, I decided to come back on and keep writing. I do this blog for Isaiah. So people will "know" him. He was here on this earth and impacted my life so immensely.

I want to thank everyone that kept me in prayer. When I hit my lows, they get very very low. God is always with me in that lonely valley, and He ever so gently takes my hand and walks me through the muck.

Thank you Father.

I was very scared to share my last post. So I took it off. I'm afraid that people who read it may look at me like I murdered my child. I am really taking a HUGE leap of faith, and sharing this post. This post was written when I was in deep deep grief. Please try to realize what I have been feeling after the night of August 3, 2008. My beautiful sweet boy died, so the doctor could try and save my life. So I could go home to Isaiah's three brothers at the time. My soul is crushed, my heart shattered.


(This is the post that I had taken off my blog.... it is very blunt. Please try to understand.)

February 2, 2010
Broken

I really thought that I would have been able to shake off the grief that overtook me four days ago. I have not been successful in doing so. I am usually able to put on my numb "outfit" and continue on with my week. I am tired. So very tired. Tired of being "Mrs. Chipper." It gets really hard to pretend that you're okay. I'm not okay. It's a lot easier to just stay at home and not put the energy into smiles and laughs, just to play it off. "Jenny's okay. She knows where Isaiah is. He's safe in heaven. She has another "baby" now. Everything must be fixed now. Look, she's smiling. She must be okay. Look, she's laughing. She must be okay." Nope. Not okay. I'm not okay. Jenny IS NOT OKAY!.... but a BIG thank you to everyone that was there for me the first couple of months after I buried my son. Yeah, that's the only time I really needed anyone. The only time I needed to be held, and told that you think about my son. It's been eighteen months. . . I'm okay now. Everything is A-okay.

I toss and turn all night long. Have nightmares. I stare at my clock before I pass out from exhaustion, thinking about my son. I wake up tired, thinking about my son. I think about Isaiah, as much as I think about my other boys that aren't in heaven. They are ALL my boys! How can one think that time will help with loss? Like I should just let go, because that's what people do. That makes absolutely no sense to me. ALL of my children grew in my womb, kicked around, sucked their thumb, heard my voice and felt me rub them through my tummy. I'm just supposed to let go and wait until I get to heaven to have any emotion for my son. I'm just supposed to put on a "happy face." I don't need to make stuff for him or do stuff in his memory, because that's not what people are supposed to do. That's what the majority of people think. . . . the people who have never outlived their child. They have NO idea what one goes through after loosing a child.

I am struggling very deeply. I will never be able to sit and explain to somebody else, what it feels like to know that my child is dead, because of me. My life was in jeopardy, so we took his. No one will ever be able to "sugar up" that fact. There is no way around it. Isaiah is dead, so I could live. I'm no Bible scholar, but I'm pretty sure that God didn't give anyone permission to end a life. I do believe that it says that God is not only the author of life, but the finisher as well. Who am I? Maybe, He was going to do a miracle. I'll never know.

My life was saved, yes,..... but my heart went with Isaiah.

I wonder if one can truly die from a broken heart.

I'm starting to believe it.

I'm starting to feel it.

Broken.

Thank You... &... A Break

First, I want to thank Holly for this necklace that she had ordered for me at, My Forever Child. She specifically picked out charms that make me think of Isaiah. It has charms of an angel wing, rainbow and Isaiah's name engraved on one side and the other side has his birth/death date. I cried when I saw the charm with his name on it. It's beautiful. Thank you Holly. I will treasure is forever. I love it.

Earlier today, I had written and posted some very deep feelings. I removed that post and decided to put this one here for now. I know that a few people have already read it and that's ok. I'm just not quite ready to share it right now. Maybe at a later time.

Second, I have decided that I need to take a break from my blog for a little while. I feel very consumed by death and guilt. I'm really not doing well. Please keep me in prayer.

This Evening

This evening was it. My breakdown. It got me real good. It hurt real bad. I felt it coming, and quietly got up out of my rocking chair, carrying Ezekiel, and went in my bedroom, shut the door, and wept on the end of my bed. In the dark. My window blinds were slightly opened, and I just stared out into the dark woods, covered with white snow. The wind was ripping through the trees. I had a warm baby in my arms... a fragile life. He just slept in my arms as my tears were running down my face, some landing on his cheeks. I got flashbacks of Isaiah dieing in my arms. Each heartbeat, slowing down. Each breath, slowly taken. Then taken from his mommy's arms. Then placed in a box. Then placed in the ground. In the cold dark ground. I hate this. I hurt so bad. I don't know why this happened. I feel like I can't breathe. I love all of my boys so much. I miss him so bad. It's not right. Sometimes, I just don't want to feel anymore. When days like this hit me, well, I'm not even going to finish that statement. I hurt so bad right now. My heart aches to hold him. To kiss him. To gently rub my cheek against his. To whisper, I love you.


I love you Isaiah.... whispered tonight...

I've Been Thinking

Over the last few days, I've been doing a lot of thinking about the last post that I had written. I only had good intentions when I chose to go and get Isaiah's name, birth/death date and rainbow imprinted in my skin FOREVER. I was not putting anything evil or degrading on my body. So I don't really think that it was a terrible thing to do. It did get me thinking though. I do pray that I didn't disappoint the Lord. My bad attitude in my last post was probably a lot more disappointing to Him, than the tattoo. I want to make sure that I am representing Christ always. So with that being said, I apologize if I came off a bit to blunt. I'm sorry. The truth is, the pain of getting that tattoo, doesn't even come close to the pain that is torn in and out of my soul every day. I just don't want anyone to forget my son.

Tonight, I sign out in tears...