Twelve years old…
Twelve years of bundled and jumbled memories
Twelve years of tears mixed with joy
Twelve years of remembering your tiny body
Twelve years of wondering if I could have done something differently to hold you in my arms longer
Twelve years of knowing you would be growing up but still you are only a baby to me
Twelve years of seeing families with five and then six children and wondering what our family pictures would have looked like but still only able to picture you grabbing your Papa’s finger
Twelve years of baby sounds resonating in my mind
Twelve years of looking forward to heaven – of knowing here or there, I have a sweet boy to love on
Twelve years of wondering more in-depth what heaven is really like: relationships, homes, daily life, and aspects I never thought about before you died
Twelve years of trying to love your brothers better
Twelve years of learning more about God’s heart of care in suffering
Twelve years of being allowed to minister to others because of all your little life taught me…
Twelve years old and a lifetime of learning still to go
Twelve years old
My 10th Mother’s Day Without You
A note to my sweet baby Jedi on this rainy Mother’s Day… In church today, the deacon asked mothers with three or more children to stand, then four or more to stay standing, then five or more to stay standing, and then six or more. I felt silly for standing and felt even sillier when I sat down as all the other mothers with only five children sat down. You were on my mind all along, and I was not denying your existence, but I didn’t want to field any questions today about your death. Some days are just harder than others. The reality is that most of the people probably wouldn’t even have known or asked, but sometimes, I say I have five children to protect my heart, but then, I feel I have betrayed you if I deny you are numbered among my sons.
Now, I feel like a fraud, like I have let you and the Lord down – because your short life and death impacted me and so many others. (And, how, exactly, will I explain that I actually have six sons as we get to know more folks at our church?)
Ah, Jedidiah, I know you are in heaven and this earthly concern is not yours, but, Lord, please bring me comfort. The grief journey is so hard at times.
Beyond Grief
As the world watches J35 grieve the loss of her sweet baby whale, I marvel at the universal sense of loss this whale brings to humanity. She moves me to tears, thinking of the deep breathes she must take in her time of panic and fear when her baby’s lifeless body slips from her control and she prepares herself to dive deep to get her baby back, a deep fall into the abyss. When will the mama let go?
That’s a question that only she can answer.
She is “beyond grief.” She won’t eat as far as the researchers can tell. All she does is try to save her already dead baby. She is on a “tour of grief” as one researcher called it. Just like J35 the whale, a human hurting mama will do things that make no sense. She will go to any depth to try to fix what has broken, while her human logic puts up the wall of knowing that she cannot fix her lost child, yet she may continue to do so at the sacrifice of all else. She will tell a complete stranger odd details or collapse into tears, or anger, at the drop of a pin.
As for J35, those from the outside want to help, but they can’t. Any interference could cause the whale to never recover, and her species cannot handle outside influence at this time of decline. A human mama cannot accept or handle outside influence often either. She cannot be open to everyone; there will be few that she can speak to without knowing that she has failed them or that they just cannot understand. Or, she will draw inside herself to avoid the pity, those looks of pity…
Yet, at the same time, it is the whale’s pod, her family, that is making all the difference today, day 9. Instead of just allowing her to fall behind or forcing her away from her dead baby’s body, her pod family is surrounding her, keeping close and being available if they are needed.
Friends, that is what a grieving parent needs! She (and he… dads, too!) needs to know that she isn’t crazy; that it is ok to be consumed by the darkness and the crazy thoughts for this brief period of intense mourning. She needs to know that if she wants to talk, you will let her. If she wants to ignore the pain for a time, you will let her.
((A side note: BEYOND GRIEF One of the researchers interviewed was correct… we need a word for this crushing period of unexplainable, fully excusable, excruciating agony. Mourning and grieving are useful terms in the early weeks (mourning) and in describing the life-long journey of loss (grief); yet, what word could somehow come close to encapsulating the original torment description? There isn’t one. Likewise, a grieving widow or widower used to be able to wear black for as long as they felt they were in the season of mourning – that time when pain and heartache fill their waking thoughts as well as their painful dreams – alerting those around them, but what can a grieving parent do? What do any grieving folks do now? There is nothing, and it causes society to fall further and further away from compassion, hope, and understanding.))
What can we do for a grieving parent? Don’t fall away. Be available, but not in her face. Don’t judge her ‘beyond grief’ period, her mourning, or her grief process. Don’t tell her what she must do. Invite her, call her, reach out, and wait. Mostly, though, pray. Pray faithfully as you never have before. You may never get to share a conversation with the grieving parent, even that you have been praying. But, you can fall at the feet of our Lord to lift up and surround the grieving parent, even from the outskirts of the group of those closer to her. Remember, for many grieving parents, there comes a point when they cannot pray. No matter how much or how deeply they have prayed before, the words, the feelings, and the thoughts of prayer will fail them. While they do not feel it at the time, God is still holding them and YOU can be one of the ‘family’ who is VITAL. Please pray.
https://abcnews.go.com/US/researchers-found-orca-whale-holding-dead-calf-days/story?id=56965753
Solace in suffering
My prayer for this month – Pregnancy and Infancy Loss Awareness month – is that we can each share our grief journey openly and honestly, helping those who are just entering into their grief journeys or helping those who have denied that they even have a journey of grief that they are on.
Yesterday, I saw a new friend post on Facebook a picture of her baby’s nursery, mentioning how, after the loss of her daughter, she would go into that room and have a bit of solace in her peaceful, simple room. I began thinking about the fact that we never set up a room, or even a space in our room, for Jedidiah because we knew that we wouldn’t have him for long – if we got a chance to bring him home at all.
The grief journey is so different for each person. I once could not imagine finding solace in a room, but then again, I could not imagine finding solace at graveyard either. However, I had many friends who talked about how they had peace, thought more clearly, and remembered their loved one better at the gravesite. I, still – six and a half years later, do not know where Jedidiah’s ashes are. I know that’s a heavy burden to put on my husband, but I haven’t come to a place where I can address that tiny amount of ashes in the blue velvet bag. If you think a baby’s coffin is small, can you imagine my dismay at seeing that tiny bag? I receive solace knowing that my husband is protecting me and my heart.
For those of you who have not lost a child, it may seem frustrating to you to even imagine those feelings, or you may desire for those of us who have lived it to just stop posting about it, but I hope this month helps you to see that we are honoring the lives of our little ones. We are not trying to make your lives sadder but trying to share our grief. How can you bring solace to a hurting heart today? In community we are all stronger, kinder, and more compassionate.
Thank you for being part of my community, and thank you for reading my ramblings. I pray that you will reach out to others to share your story, whatever it may, so that you can strengthen them and grow closer together.
We are Jedidiah. 