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

Called by name

I have been figuring out lately what things help me grieve properly. One idea I had was to get a bracelet made, with Joakim's name engraved on it. It is very discreet, and flowery, and I like it.
Somehow, it pleases me to have something to wear that reminds me of him. The bracelet has been made, and as I have started wearing it, I wondered how long I would wear it. I wondered if in ten, twenty years, it would still be wearable. The bracelet is perishable, but not the memory of our son.
His name is so dear to me, that it makes me either smile or cry, or both, to look at it.

Our names are known to our Creator. What does He not know of us ? 
"When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." (Psalm 139)

Joakim's days were written, before he was born. And his name was engraved, in the book of life. His name is precious to many people, but it amazes me to think that it is precious to God, and that God knows him, knows us, by name.

"Fear not, for I have redeemed you I have summoned you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned. The flames will not set you ablaze.
For I am your the Lord, your God.."  
Isaiah 43


Ces derniers temps, j'ai réfléchi à ce qui pouvait m'aider à faire le deuil de Joakim. Entre autre, j'ai eu l'idée de faire faire un bracelet sur lequel est gravé son nom. Je le porte maintenant depuis deux semaines, et je l'aime beaucoup... discret, fleuri, comme  j'aime !
Je ne saurais pas l'expliquer, mais j'aime porter quelque chose sur lequel son prénom est inscrit, comme un écho de mes pensées. Je me suis demandé combien de temps je le porterais. Le bracelet sera-t-il encore en état d'être porté dans dix, vingt ans ? C'est un objet qui ne durera qu'un temps. Le souvenir de notre fils, lui, restera.
Ce prénom m'est si précieux que le simple fait de voir ce bracelet me faire pleurer, ou sourire, ou les deux...

Notre créateur nous connaît par notre prénom. Il n'y a rien de caché, d'inconnu pour Lui ! 
" Je n'étais encore qu'une masse informe, mais tes yeux me voyaient, et sur ton livre étaient inscrits tous les jours qui m'étaient destinés avant qu'un seul d'entre eux n'existe" (Psaume 139)

Les jours de Joakim étaient inscrits, avant sa naissance. Et son nom était gravé dans le livre de vie. Son nom est précieux pour de nombreuses personnes, mais je suis émerveillée de penser qu'il est précieux pour Dieu, et que Dieu le connaît, nous connaît, par notre nom.

"N'aie pas peur, car je t'ai racheté. Je t'ai appelé par ton nom, tu m'appartiens! Si tu traverses l'eau, je serai moi-même avec toi; si tu traverses les fleuves, ils ne te submergeront pas. Si tu marches dans le feu, tu ne te brûleras pas et la flamme ne te fera pas de mal. En effet, je suis l'Eternel ton Dieu..."
(Esaie 43)

Learning

I'm learning that it's possible to drive and cry at the same time.
I'm learning that it's ok to laugh out loud. 
I'm learning that some days are worse than others.
I'm learning that I can tell people our child is in heaven without bursting into tears. 
I'm learning that  an email, or a piece of chocolate, or a hug, also help.
I'm learning that I need to forgive those who say hurtful things.
I'm learning that not doing it robs us of our peace.
I'm learning that when God's people pray, things happen in our hearts.
I'm learning that there's a huge amount of people suffering out there.
I'm learning that God uses our family, our friends, to bless us in many ways.
I'm learning that God's words are the most soothing, peace-giving, soul resting words there will ever be.

A month ago today, I gave birth to Joakim. I miss him so much. I am standing, because I'm learning what it's like to have God walking alongside us in our suffering.

He has a place ready

For my son Joakim, everything was ready.

My mummy's heart already had a third cadence in its rythm. My arms were waiting to hold him.

And of course, his bed, clothes, so many little things that testified to his imminent arrival in our home, were waiting for him.

But, as Joakim went staight from my womb to heaven, and we had to say good-bye to him, everything I had prepared was no longer needed.

My heart, my arms, our home had a place ready for my son, but then so did his Father in Heaven.

I so badly want to think that the place we had ready was the best thing for him. Isn't the love of a mother for her child the most amazing thing ?

But can anything compare to what the Father has prepared for us ? Can any amount of love, care, joy on earth be preferable to what is waiting for us in the presence of God ?

I have to trust God that the place he had ready for Joakim, since the beginning of his life, is perfect.

And that for me too, such a place is ready, because of God's grace and amazing love for us.

It is the beginning of 2013, and people can't really bring themselves to wish us a happy new year. How can 2013 be a happy year ? The baby I carried in 2012 is no longer with us.

It will often be hard to be happy, it is hard right now to rejoice. 

But I choose 2013 to be a year of rejoicing that a place is ready for us in Heaven. Perfect in every way, in the presence of the Father.

« Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, trust also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms, if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me, that you also may be where I am. »

John 14, v 1-3

Pour mon fils Joakim, j'avais tout préparé. Mon coeur de maman battait d'un troisième rythme depuis 9 mois. Mes bras n'attendaient plus que ça.. le tenir. Et bien sûr, son lit, ses habits, toutes les petites choses qui indiquent l'arrivée imminente d'un nouveau né chez nous.

Mais le 22 décembre, Joakim n'était plus là, mais déjà au ciel. Nous avons dû lui dire au-revoir. Et tout ce qui avait été préparé pour lui, il n'en avait plus besoin.

Mon coeur, mes bras, notre foyer lui avaient préparé une place... tout comme son Père au ciel.

Tout en moi aimerait se dire que la place que nous lui avions préparé était la meilleure chose pour lui. Après tout, l'amour d'une mère est ce qu'il y a de plus extraordinaire, non ? 
Mais comment peut-on mesurer quoi que ce soit à ce que le Père a préparé pour nous ? Tout l'amour, toute la tendresse, toute la joie que l'on peut avoir sur terre n'est pas comparable à ce qui nous attend dans la présence de Dieu.
Je dois faire confiance à Dieu que ce qu'il a préparé pour mon fils, depuis le commencement, est parfait.
Et que pour moi aussi, une telle place est prête, grâce à l'amour extraordinaire de Dieu pour nous.

Nous démarrons l'année 2013. Et la plupart des personnes que l'on rencontre n'osent pas nous souhaiter une bonne année. En quoi peut-on imaginer que 2013 sera une belle année, alors que nous avons perdu l'enfant que je portais en 2012?
Oui, ce sera souvent difficile d'être joyeux en 2013.
Mais je choisis de me réjouir cette année de savoir qu'une place m'est préparée au ciel. Où tout sera parfait, dans la présence du Père.

"Que votre coeur ne se trouble pas ! Croyez en Dieu, croyez aussi en moi. Il y a beaucoup de demeures dans la maison de mon Père. Si ce n'était pas le cas, je vous l'aurai dit. Je vais vous préparer une place. Et puisque je vais vous préparer une place, je reviendrai et je vous prendrai avec moi afin que, là où je suis, vous y soyez aussi."
Jean 14 v 1 à 3

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