The Recovery

A former collegue of mine told me that he had a rough weekend, and I thought to myself, "Did you have a hard time finding a spot at the mall?" (I didn't really think this before he went on with his story, but I do realize that I have become quite cynical. Babyloss just has a way of forcing one to put things into perspective, but I digress.)

What came out of his mouth next totally caught me off-guard. "My wife and I lost our baby on Saturday," he said matter-of-factly.

"I'm so sorry to hear that," I managed.

"She was 5 months along," and he pulled out his phone to show me a picture. Without hesitation, he shared the pictures just like any proud daddy would.

"I'm not sure if you know this, but our firstborn died," I shared.

He hadn't known. He looked surprised actually.

"Well, you look fine. How was the recovery?" he asked.

"Physically or emotionally?" I clarified.

"Emotionally," he said (I was kind of dreading that he'd say that).

I had to pause to avoid scaring him, but I didn't want to sugarcoat the situation. I simply said, "Well, emotionally, I'm still healing. I will never be the same. It never really goes away, but it does get better. "

"The Sharp Knife of a Short Life"

A girlfriend of mine posted this on her Facebook page, and I just wanted to share. Not all of it is relevant but some of the lines were quite poignant (like the one I grabbed for the title of this post; this is not the original video, I just had to grab one that would actually play):

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I also wanted to thank Katy and Kristie from Anchored By Hope for creating this beautiful Memorial Page for Dylan for The Sketchbook Project. It's amazing. Thank you again ladies!

"Home"
by Katrina

We painted walls and washed the sheets
We hung the mobile high

We bought you clothes and hung them up
And now, we just ask "why?"

You never got to see your room
Or stare up at those walls

You never got to wear those clothes
Or walk through those halls

You never got to call it home
The hospital was all you knew

And then you grew your angel wings
Because Heaven is home for you.

Let There Be Light

For Dylan (June 11, 2008-June 17, 2008) . On this October 15th, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Rememberance Day, I remember you. I honor you. I miss you dearly. I don't really have the right words sometimes, but I hope the pictures speak enough of my heart (and the song is just for good measure, plus I one of my favorites from church).

Lord the Light of Your Love is shining,
In the midst of the darkness shining,
Jesus light of the world shine upon us,
Set us free by the truth You now bring us,
Shine on me. Shine on me.

Shine Jesus shine
Fill this land with the Father's glory
Blaze, Spirit blaze,
Set our hearts on fire
Flow, river flow
Flood the nations with grace and mercy
Send forth Your word
Lord and let there be light.

Lord I come to Your awesome presence,
From the shadows into Your radiance,
By the blood I may enter Your brightness,
Search me, try me, consume all my darkness,
Shine on me. Shine on me.

As we gaze on Your kindly brightness.
So our faces display Your likeness.
Ever changing from glory to glory,
Mirrored here may our lives tell Your story.
Shine on me. Shine on me.

A Short Rant

For whatever reason, I've always been obssessed with watching TLC's "A Baby Story". I don't as much anymore because I get easily worked up over statements like:

"I knew that she was a special baby, that she really was a fighter, and that she wanted to be with us as much as we wanted to be with her."

I hear these things from a mother arriving at home with her baby (who spent her first 7 days of life in the NICU). While it does pull at my heartstrings, I feel my mind quickly go into a defensive stance: "Does this imply that Dylan wasn't a fighter. That he just didn't want to be with us or that we didn't want him enough?"

Oh the places my brain will go. It just sucks, it really does.

Faith, A Blessing

A picture is worth a thousand words. We were blessed to have James Adam Hill shoot the pictures for our daughter's one-year. Blessed? Yes, they're just pictures, but he's not just any photographer. He's the Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep photographer that came to the hospital two years ago to take pictures of Dylan. James has now photographed both of our children. So, you see, it's kind of significant to me to be blessed to have this picture (in every detail of it, down to the "little sister" tee):