The service this morning was beautiful. I cried all the way through, as did Graeme. I still can't believe that I will never hold my little girl again, that she's really gone now. I can't believe that this happened to us.
Roll on heaven, when I will see her again!
We have taped the service, mainly for family who couldn't attend. Once we have a copy we'll try to upload it so anyone who would like to can see the service, but as it's pretty long (half an hour or so) I'm not sure we'll be able to.
We want to thank everyone who has donated to Tommy's Baby Charity in memory of Zoe, either through the link we posted previously, or today at the service. Your generous donations total around £850 so far. Our prayer is that this money will spare at least one couple the agony we have gone through - if our sorrow means that others are spared, then at least some good will have come of this tragedy.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Friday, April 06, 2007
Like, DUH!
On my way home tonight from dropping my mom off, it struck me that sometimes I can be really dense! Like, DUH! dense....
This Good Friday there's another person I have a connection with... Jesus' mother! Having lost Zoe, whom I hardly knew, I can barely begin to imagine what Mary would have gone through - raising her firstborn, seeing him mature and grow into a man, spending 30 plus years loving him, and then have to watch him being tortured and killed... believing he was DEAD for 3 days.... I can't even begin to imagine her personal hell that first Good Friday!!
Somehow, that puts my suffering into some sort of perspective.
This Good Friday there's another person I have a connection with... Jesus' mother! Having lost Zoe, whom I hardly knew, I can barely begin to imagine what Mary would have gone through - raising her firstborn, seeing him mature and grow into a man, spending 30 plus years loving him, and then have to watch him being tortured and killed... believing he was DEAD for 3 days.... I can't even begin to imagine her personal hell that first Good Friday!!
Somehow, that puts my suffering into some sort of perspective.
Alternative versions
An old school friend posted an alternative version of Ps 121, for those who are interested.
Good Friday
So today is the remembrance of Jesus' crucifixion and death... the reason that we have hope is because he went into the depths of hell for our sake, was abandoned by his Father for our sake...
This year it has a new dimension for me. The Father lost his son... God knows the hell of losing a child and being 'left behind'. And he knows the joy of being reunited with that child and never being separated from him again. This is my hope this Easter... that because of Easter and Ascension Day, I will be reunited with my child too, and that we will never be parted again. I'm just not sure how I'm going to handle the time lag between my personal Good Friday and Ascension Day.
People around us keep commenting on how strong I'm being, how brave. A lot of what they see is me in ostrich mode - when I've buried my head in a book, or TV, or anything else I can think about. Escapism has its place. For one thing, it gives the mourner breathing space so as not to be overwhelmed by grief. I worry though that I'm spending too much time avoiding and not enough time 'being' with my grief.
When I'm being an ostrich, I can almost believe that I was never pregnant, that Zoe never was, and that life is just how it was 9 months ago. It's like this has happened to someone else, not me, and I'm just an observer. There's a distance between me and my feelings.
But then, as soon as I stop being busy or stop hiding, the pain and desolation hits me again. In those moments I think that if I can just say out loud often enough how wrong this is, someone will hear me and come and fix it; someone will knock on the door and tell me there's been a dreadful mistake, and the baby I gave birth to is alive; someone will have faith enough to raise Zoe back to life. But I know that's not going to happen, and I'm still not sure how I'm going to move forward from here.
I'm not about to slash my wrists or jump in front of a truck or take enough tablets to sleep the eternal sleep (although I'm so tired right now that the last one does sound appealing), so I guess I must be coping okay. I guess that's what people mean when they say how strong I am, or how brave I am. I just don't see it myself. I don't feel strong, or brave. Quite the opposite - I just want to run away from all this and hide - and I do run away and hide, quite a lot...
Which makes what Jesus did even more incredible. He faced worse than this - he knew what lay before him. Yet, instead of running away and hiding (which is what I would have done), he faced it, accepted it, and moved through it - right through to the other side of death. That's strength and bravery. What I do is merely coping, and hardly that. But I have to believe that, as Tony Campolo's preaching competitor said, 'It's Friday, but Sunday's coming!'
This year it has a new dimension for me. The Father lost his son... God knows the hell of losing a child and being 'left behind'. And he knows the joy of being reunited with that child and never being separated from him again. This is my hope this Easter... that because of Easter and Ascension Day, I will be reunited with my child too, and that we will never be parted again. I'm just not sure how I'm going to handle the time lag between my personal Good Friday and Ascension Day.
People around us keep commenting on how strong I'm being, how brave. A lot of what they see is me in ostrich mode - when I've buried my head in a book, or TV, or anything else I can think about. Escapism has its place. For one thing, it gives the mourner breathing space so as not to be overwhelmed by grief. I worry though that I'm spending too much time avoiding and not enough time 'being' with my grief.
When I'm being an ostrich, I can almost believe that I was never pregnant, that Zoe never was, and that life is just how it was 9 months ago. It's like this has happened to someone else, not me, and I'm just an observer. There's a distance between me and my feelings.
But then, as soon as I stop being busy or stop hiding, the pain and desolation hits me again. In those moments I think that if I can just say out loud often enough how wrong this is, someone will hear me and come and fix it; someone will knock on the door and tell me there's been a dreadful mistake, and the baby I gave birth to is alive; someone will have faith enough to raise Zoe back to life. But I know that's not going to happen, and I'm still not sure how I'm going to move forward from here.
I'm not about to slash my wrists or jump in front of a truck or take enough tablets to sleep the eternal sleep (although I'm so tired right now that the last one does sound appealing), so I guess I must be coping okay. I guess that's what people mean when they say how strong I am, or how brave I am. I just don't see it myself. I don't feel strong, or brave. Quite the opposite - I just want to run away from all this and hide - and I do run away and hide, quite a lot...
Which makes what Jesus did even more incredible. He faced worse than this - he knew what lay before him. Yet, instead of running away and hiding (which is what I would have done), he faced it, accepted it, and moved through it - right through to the other side of death. That's strength and bravery. What I do is merely coping, and hardly that. But I have to believe that, as Tony Campolo's preaching competitor said, 'It's Friday, but Sunday's coming!'
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Milestones??
On Sunday we went to church. We purposely arrived late and sat right at the back so that we wouldn't have to talk to people for a while. It was an all-age service, which meant the kids were in for the entire service. That was okay, as I don't think I would've wanted Nellie to be out of sight in the creche (plus one of us would have had to have been with her because she still doesn't settle there without us...).
The sermon was good - all about what it means for Jesus to be king - nothing too emotional. I found the worship really tough - not because I couldn't acknowledge God as all-powerful king, but because doing so means letting go of Zoe in some ways. Graeme didn't manage to engage at all with any of it as he was running around after Nellie. Tea after the service was ok. Mostly people were lovely - neither too caught up in their own grief nor too distant from ours. There were a few people who kept their distance that we had hoped would say something, but there was only one person whose expression of grief I felt I had to manage. The rest were just amazing.
So, all in all, a tough morning, but not a bad one. At least now we've seen a chunk of the church members, which should make the Easter service easier, and should make the funeral easier too, as it won't be the first time we're seeing people. One milestone (if you can call it that) down...
Another milestone was going to meet Ella. She's gorgeous - looks just like her parents! (But if you know her parents you know there's no way she could be anything but gorgeous as they are both very good-looking people!) Seeing her was a lot easier than either of us expected it to be. We had thought we would need to weep, but that wasn't the case. For me, there were only one or two moments where I felt a pang (and caught myself thinking about how I wasn't going to have that problem/ feeling/ bond for at least another year), but nothing overwhelming, thank God. Having a cuddle was very special - there is something so incredible, so holy, about newborns.... I don't know if you truly appreciate that when it's your child. I think you're just too tired and wrung out. I certainly wasn't as aware of it with Nellie, or with Zoe, as I was with Ella. Odd. Anyway, we were really able to celebrate her, and celebrate with her parents, and that was very special too.
It felt odd being the experienced ones though and seeing them struggle with all the issues that first-time parents have (sleep??? what's that??? when will my milk come in?? is she feeding enough?? why won't she stop crying?? how do you hold her??... etc, etc, etc). I can remember how out of my depth I felt, and it was great to be able to reassure them both that while this first week is tough, things get progressively easier.
On the Nellie front, things have been up and down. After we got the news about Ella on Saturday, and had spent the rest of the day feeling devastated, Nellie was extremely anxious on Sunday. Fortunately, she had a really good day with the child minder on Monday, so was much happier last night and again today.
I can't remember whether I've blogged that she's started eating raisins (finally!! some fruit that she really enjoys - she's gone off whole pieces of any other fruit, and isn't wild about pureed fruit either anymore). Needless to say, in an effort to get fruit into her, she's now got a runny tummy.... hmm. Maybe Mommy is getting over-excited about the raisins.
She also said another word the other day - yodit - meaning yoghurt. So cute! She's learnt to make the sign for 'more', which means that we have another way of checking if she's still hungry towards the end of mealtimes. And she's started trying to communicate to us when she's done a poo!! She's also starting to learn the sign for 'nappy', which will help with this. Potty training here we come... in a little while. Let's get through the funeral first, then we'll hang on a bit longer for the warmer weather to become more predictable before we venture forth into this next phase of toddlerhood.
So - there are things still worth celebrating, even in the midst of all the pain and confusion, and we're trying to keep focussed on those things when we can. It helps with the pain; makes it slightly more bearable.
The sermon was good - all about what it means for Jesus to be king - nothing too emotional. I found the worship really tough - not because I couldn't acknowledge God as all-powerful king, but because doing so means letting go of Zoe in some ways. Graeme didn't manage to engage at all with any of it as he was running around after Nellie. Tea after the service was ok. Mostly people were lovely - neither too caught up in their own grief nor too distant from ours. There were a few people who kept their distance that we had hoped would say something, but there was only one person whose expression of grief I felt I had to manage. The rest were just amazing.
So, all in all, a tough morning, but not a bad one. At least now we've seen a chunk of the church members, which should make the Easter service easier, and should make the funeral easier too, as it won't be the first time we're seeing people. One milestone (if you can call it that) down...
Another milestone was going to meet Ella. She's gorgeous - looks just like her parents! (But if you know her parents you know there's no way she could be anything but gorgeous as they are both very good-looking people!) Seeing her was a lot easier than either of us expected it to be. We had thought we would need to weep, but that wasn't the case. For me, there were only one or two moments where I felt a pang (and caught myself thinking about how I wasn't going to have that problem/ feeling/ bond for at least another year), but nothing overwhelming, thank God. Having a cuddle was very special - there is something so incredible, so holy, about newborns.... I don't know if you truly appreciate that when it's your child. I think you're just too tired and wrung out. I certainly wasn't as aware of it with Nellie, or with Zoe, as I was with Ella. Odd. Anyway, we were really able to celebrate her, and celebrate with her parents, and that was very special too.
It felt odd being the experienced ones though and seeing them struggle with all the issues that first-time parents have (sleep??? what's that??? when will my milk come in?? is she feeding enough?? why won't she stop crying?? how do you hold her??... etc, etc, etc). I can remember how out of my depth I felt, and it was great to be able to reassure them both that while this first week is tough, things get progressively easier.
On the Nellie front, things have been up and down. After we got the news about Ella on Saturday, and had spent the rest of the day feeling devastated, Nellie was extremely anxious on Sunday. Fortunately, she had a really good day with the child minder on Monday, so was much happier last night and again today.
I can't remember whether I've blogged that she's started eating raisins (finally!! some fruit that she really enjoys - she's gone off whole pieces of any other fruit, and isn't wild about pureed fruit either anymore). Needless to say, in an effort to get fruit into her, she's now got a runny tummy.... hmm. Maybe Mommy is getting over-excited about the raisins.
She also said another word the other day - yodit - meaning yoghurt. So cute! She's learnt to make the sign for 'more', which means that we have another way of checking if she's still hungry towards the end of mealtimes. And she's started trying to communicate to us when she's done a poo!! She's also starting to learn the sign for 'nappy', which will help with this. Potty training here we come... in a little while. Let's get through the funeral first, then we'll hang on a bit longer for the warmer weather to become more predictable before we venture forth into this next phase of toddlerhood.
So - there are things still worth celebrating, even in the midst of all the pain and confusion, and we're trying to keep focussed on those things when we can. It helps with the pain; makes it slightly more bearable.
Tomorrow my mom arrives from SA, after about 25 hours of travel. (The cheapest flights always go via, via, via... with lay overs of several hours between connections.) It's going to be FANTASTIC having her here with us, but she's going to be too exhausted to think for a day or two I suspect! Funny how, even now as an adult, when things go wrong, all I want is my Mommy!!
Monday, April 02, 2007
'Glory Baby' by Watermark
This song was sent to us by a friend who lost her baby many years ago...
Glory Baby,
You slipped away
As fast as we could say baby, baby
You were growing, what happened?
Dear, You disappeared on us baby, baby
Heaven will hold you before we do
Heaven will keep you safe
Until we're home with you
Until we're home with you
(chorus)
We miss you everyday
Miss you in every way
But we know there's a day
When we will hold you, we will hold you
And you'll kiss our tears away
When we're home to stay
We can't wait for the day
When we will see you, we will see you
But baby let sweet Jesus hold you
Til mom and dad can hold you
You'll just have heaven before we do
You'll just have heaven before we do
Sweet little baby, it's hard to understand it
Cause we are hurting, we are hurting
But there is healing
And we know we're stronger people
Through the growing and in knowing
All things work together for our good
And God works his purposes
Just like he said he would
Just like he said he would
(chorus)
I can't imagine Heaven's lullabies
And what they must sound like
But I will rest in knowing
Heaven is your home
And it's all you'll ever know
All you'll ever know
(chorus)
Glory Baby,
You slipped away
As fast as we could say baby, baby
You were growing, what happened?
Dear, You disappeared on us baby, baby
Heaven will hold you before we do
Heaven will keep you safe
Until we're home with you
Until we're home with you
(chorus)
We miss you everyday
Miss you in every way
But we know there's a day
When we will hold you, we will hold you
And you'll kiss our tears away
When we're home to stay
We can't wait for the day
When we will see you, we will see you
But baby let sweet Jesus hold you
Til mom and dad can hold you
You'll just have heaven before we do
You'll just have heaven before we do
Sweet little baby, it's hard to understand it
Cause we are hurting, we are hurting
But there is healing
And we know we're stronger people
Through the growing and in knowing
All things work together for our good
And God works his purposes
Just like he said he would
Just like he said he would
(chorus)
I can't imagine Heaven's lullabies
And what they must sound like
But I will rest in knowing
Heaven is your home
And it's all you'll ever know
All you'll ever know
(chorus)
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Teach a child...
I went to one of those old-fashioned girls' high schools where tradition was a big deal. At the start and end of every term our headmistress would read Ps 121. Ever since Zoe's birth, I've had bits of it running through my mind.
The old adage about 'teach a child the way to go and when he is grown he will not depart from it' has apparently worked with me. The words of all the praise and worship songs from the '80's and early '90's when I was at school are the only ones I can remember - the new stuff (which I thought I valued more because they were more expressive) I just can't remember; either the tunes or the words!
Anyway, this evening, I found myself praying the bits of Ps 121 that I could remember over Janel as I put her to bed, so I thought I'd look it up and read it again. I know that God watches over us; I know that He is here in the midst of our suffering; I know that (despite how things look) He loves us. On reading it again, it seems so appropriate that I thought I'd share it here.
Ps 121
I lift up my eyes to the hills -
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip -
He who watches over you will not slumber;
Indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The Lord watches over you -
The Lord is your shade upon your right hand;
The sun will not smite you by day, nor the moon by night.
The Lord will keep you from harm -
He will watch over your life;
The Lord will watch over your coming and going
Both now and forever more.
The old adage about 'teach a child the way to go and when he is grown he will not depart from it' has apparently worked with me. The words of all the praise and worship songs from the '80's and early '90's when I was at school are the only ones I can remember - the new stuff (which I thought I valued more because they were more expressive) I just can't remember; either the tunes or the words!
Anyway, this evening, I found myself praying the bits of Ps 121 that I could remember over Janel as I put her to bed, so I thought I'd look it up and read it again. I know that God watches over us; I know that He is here in the midst of our suffering; I know that (despite how things look) He loves us. On reading it again, it seems so appropriate that I thought I'd share it here.
Ps 121
I lift up my eyes to the hills -
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip -
He who watches over you will not slumber;
Indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The Lord watches over you -
The Lord is your shade upon your right hand;
The sun will not smite you by day, nor the moon by night.
The Lord will keep you from harm -
He will watch over your life;
The Lord will watch over your coming and going
Both now and forever more.
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