18 months of missing him

It's the 22nd of June and 18 months ago I said goodbye.
I cannot believe how much has happened in that time, but one thing is sure, I miss, miss, miss him.
Since 22nd December, we have had another child. And the joy she brings us is beyond anything I can describe.
But how I miss him. And since people don't usually ask, well.. she looks just like him. So yes I'm a mother of 4 children, all 4 so alike. Of course, beautiful.

We thank God for this new life, for the grace He has given us of having another baby to hold. We thank God for Joakim too, because having him taught us so much.

BirthDay

Sometimes there are no words. There is no word to describe a parent who has lost a child, there is no word for a day that marks the birth of a child who has ceased to live.
A year has passed since I gave birth to Joakim and today has no word.

At first I longed for today to be a celebration, complete with first birthday cake, overexcited siblings, cards on the mantelpiece and wrapping paper all over the floor. But as the dreaded anniversary has come, I don't feel that longing anymore.
In honouring his short life, in cherishing his memory and loving him through our tears, we have celebrated Joakim all year long.
Every 22nd December will be a painful, special day. But in the blink of an eye, we will be with him again, and I can't wait !
That longing is far greater that the longing to have him with us on earth, because it will be in the presence of our Father, whose glory Joakim has been celebrating ever since he died.
As a friend recently reminded me, how blessed Joakim is.
And we are blessed too, to have learnt so much in a year of grief, to have memories of a much loved son, to have hope in the coming of our Saviour.

Yesterday was Joakim's first BirthDay. I miss him so much. What a party we will have when we are together again !

Parfois, notre vocabulaire est insuffisant... il n'y a pas de mot pour désigner un parent qui a perdu un enfant. Il n'y a pas de mot pour évoquer le jour où en enfant qui a cessé de vivre est mis au monde.
Il y a un an, aujourd'hui, j'ai mis au monde Joakim, et je ne trouve aucun mot pour décrire tout ce que cela représente.
Il y a quelques semaines, lorsque j'essayais d'imaginer cette journée, je ne pouvais que regretter que ce soit tout sauf un jour de fête. Une fête avec tout ce qu'il faut : le premier gâteau d'anniversaire, le frères et la soeur surexcités, les cartes au dessus de la cheminée, et du papier cadeau déchiré partout.
Mais la date anniversaire redoutée est arrivée, et je ne regrette plus toutes ces choses.
En honorant sa vie si courte, en chérissant sa mémoire, en l'aimant avec chaque larme versée, nous avons célébré Joakim toute cette année écoulée.
Chaque 22 décembre de notre vie sera douloureux, étrange. Mais un jour nous serons à nouveau ensemble, et j'ai tellement hâte ! L'envie d'être avec lui au ciel est bien plus forte que l'envie de le serrer dans mes bras sur terre, parce qu'au ciel, nous serons dans la présence de Dieu, la présence et la gloire que Joakim célèbre depuis qu'il est décedé.
Comme une amie me l'a rappelé récemment, Joakim est béni !
Et nous le sommes aussi, par toutes les choses que nous avons appris toute cette année de deuil, par les souvenirs d'un fils chéri, et par l'espérance du retour de notre Sauveur.

Joakim est né il y un an hier. Il nous manque tant. Mais une fête incroyable nous attend, le jour où nous serons à nouveau ensemble.

There were photographs I wanted to take

Today is the 22nd, and 10 months ago I gave birth to Joakim.
Because I spend time today watching my other children and realising how much they'd grown in 10 months, I had such an ache for my baby, realising there is no way I can even picture him at 10 months.

There is a song I love that talks of the pain it is to be robed of our child ... no photographs of their first smile, their first steps, no firsts of anything.
The song also talks about the blessing it is to have had our child, even for such a short time.
It's true, we cannot regret having had Joakim, I cannot regret having carried him, even if losing him has caused us the greatest pain we might ever know.

Most of all, the song talks about the love that carries us, God's love that whispers to us
"I will carry you"

Nous sommes le 22, et il y a 10 mois, j'ai accouché de Joakim.
En observant mes enfants aujourd'hui, j'ai réalisé à quel point ils avaient grandis ces dix derniers mois... j'ai eu une telle envie d'avoir mon bébé avec moi, et je ne peux même pas me le représenter à l'âge de dix mois.
Un chant que j'aime écouter parle de la souffrance que nous vivons lorsque nous sommes séparés d'un de nos enfants : je n'ai pas de photo de son premier sourire, de ses premiers pas, aucune "première" de quoi que ce soit dans sa vie.
Ce chant parle aussi de la bénédiction d'avoir pû le porter, et l'avoir eu, même pour si peu de temps.
C'est vrai, on ne regrette pas d'avoir eu Joakim, je ne regrette pas de l'avoir porté, même si son départ nous inflige la souffrance la plus terrible que nous ayons jamais connu.

Par dessus-tout, ce chant parle de l'amour qui nous porte, l'amour de Dieu qui nous souffle à l'oreille "I will carrry you.. Je te porterais toujours"

Sitting

"I am sorry"
One doctor, three words, and I am sent crashing to the ground.
In  matter of seconds, everything is turned upside down. Surely the sun will not set tonight. People will stop in their tracks and bow their heads. The earth will be silent, for my baby is gone.

Wait ! How can this be possible ? I am still on the ground, in the dust, and the sun has set ! The earth has not changed its pace, people keep walking and dreaming and laughing !
I shake my head, bewildered. I try standing up. It is too soon, my legs cannot carry me. So I sit in the dust.

Some people sit beside me, do bow their heads. They take my hand and whisper the truth, soflty remind me
"He will raise you up"

Other walk past me, take a few steps away to avoid this hurting stranger. Others do not see me. They don't know ! I am not dressed in black, I am alive...
Swollen eyes, empty heart, covered in dust, I am the invisible mourning mother.

I lean on my hands, try a different position. I am on my knees.
People stand up, start walking again, at a different pace. They are waiting for me, I will catch up some day.
I try standing again, and take a few steps. I fall again and wonder...
if this is my life, now.

There is One who is still kneeling, beside me.
I have spoken to Him, so many times.
But He is silently waiting for me to ask

As I try standing, this time I say
"Lift me"

I am standing, shaking and covered in dust.
No longer trying to walk
Without Him ....
 
I am the mourning mother
Suffering and weeping
But standing and shaking the dust off my clothes

"I was overcome by trouble and sorrow
Then I called on the name of the Lord
Save me !"

 "He raises the poor from the dust..."
Psalm 113 

It's a beautiful life but someone is missing. Elizabeth mccracken

This could have been written to me.
John Piper wrote to a grieving mum, and once again, I was so encouraged to read words that express my feelings. Does it help understand what it's like to grieve a child you never knew ?
I wonder. 

http://www.desiringgod.org/blog/posts/letter-to-a-parent-grieving-the-loss-of-a-child

I am not over it

"Catastrophic loss wreaks destruction like a massive flood. It leaves the landscape of one's life forever changed." 
Jerry Sittser in A Grace Disguised


Three months ago, my husband and I were standing at the grave of our little boy. The pain was unrelenting, raw. The intensity of our loss only beginning to sink in.

At that time, I was convinced my life was changed forever. And I was right !
I just had to discover what was changed. At first I thought it was my ability to be happy again. At the hospital, I held my child and thought my joy was gone, till the day I would see him again.
But by the grace of God, my ability to be happy has not gone. Because of His presence in our lives, we are learning that grief is mysterious joy and sorrow mingled together.

So I am able to feel joy, to laugh, to enjoy life... so am I over it ?

I will never be over it. I have chosen to live my grief, fully, but to let joy seep in the darkness. I will not wait for darkness to lift before I let God give me his joy. I am not going to go through the pain and wait to come out the other side. I want grace to be present in the pain. And the pain is here... even if it is not as noticeable now. When I think of Joakim I feel like screaming in pain.

The loss of our boy is being absorbed in my life. And I want to let the sorrow enlarge me, not define me. Because I will never be over it, it will hopefully change me in the years to come. I know this is possible because of God's promises.

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever.
Ephesians 3 v 20

Hope of the broken world

Our world has been turned upside down, but He remains... forever the same.



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LX1EFPtTZ5U