On hope, where it comes from and why we have it

I have been so blessed by the outpouring of support that has come from friends near and far. I was directed to a blog called 4 Day to Eternity, created by a family who lost their son Mason after 4 days with him. As part of their ministry, they send the book Safe in the Arms of God (truth from Heaven about the death of a child) by John MacArthur, to anyone who has lost a baby.

We know of the couple, Chris and Anna, because we briefly went to college together. If I remember right, Chris was a senior my freshman year. The college president happens to be John MacArthur. We were so happy to receive this book, knowing it was full of truths that would take us a long time to discover ourselves.

I think it's natural to wonder what happens to babies that die. I am so thankful for this book, which answers that question with biblical support, something vitally important to us.

We already know that God knows us from the womb. The passage assuring us of that was what we clung to as we waited in the hospital.

"For you formed my inward parts, you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made....You saw my unformed substance, in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them." Ps. 139:13-14, 16

Excerpts from the book:

"You may think you 'made' your baby. Not so. God made your baby and breathed life into him or her. Your child is His creation." 19

"Your child has never been beyond the loving care and concern-or the watchful eye-of the Lord." 22

"He does not allow a conception that is beyond His sovereign plan and purposes." 23

Dr. MacArthur addresses the topic of the sin nature, inherent in all humans because of Adam's original sin. Having this sin nature means that eventually when faced with a choice between right and wrong, we will inevitably pick to do wrong. This begs the question, are babies condemned to hell because they are carriers of the sin nature, despite never having chosen to sin?

Because we are born with a sin nature; "we cannot say that babies who die go to heaven because they are 'sinless.' Rather, babies who die go to heaven because God is gracious." 72

Throughout Scripture, God refers to children as "The innocents." (See Jer. 2:34 and 19:4 for examples). "Though fallen creatures like all Adam's offspring, infants are not culpable in the same sense as those whose sins are will full and premeditated." 35

"The Scripture weighs very heavily toward the fact that innocent children are in heaven, redeemed and dwelling in the presence of God." 41

Though babies do not have the ability to accept Christ, Christ is gracious to accept them. Quoting John Calvin, MacArthur says, "Those little children have not yet any understanding to desire His blessing, but when they are presented to Him, He gently and kindly receives them, and dedicates them to the Father by a solemn act of blessing." 60

"The saving grace given to an infant who as no part whatsoever in his salvation is a perfect example of salvation, which is always wrought sovereignly by God through grace." 77

"If we understand God by His nature as a Savior (see 1 Tim. 1:1; 4:10), is it not the truest expression of God's heart that He chooses to save infants?" 79

I'll end with this:

"Yes, children are in need of a Savior.

"Yes, God has provided a Savior for them, Jesus Christ.

"Yes, all children who die before they reach a state of moral awareness and culpability in which they understand their sin and corruption--so that their sins are deliberate--are graciously saved eternally by God through the work of Jesus Christ. They are counted as elect by sovereign choice because they are innocent of willful sin, rebellion, and unbelief, by which works they would be justly condemned to eternal punishment." 89-90

These are small snippets of the comfort this book, written through searching of the Scriptures, can give. There is so much more, but I'll leave it here.

We know Isaiah is with Christ, free from all the pain and hardship, as well as the sin and temptation of this world. We do not grieve that he is with Christ, we grieve only for ourselves, for our empty arms, for the son we can't know until we are reunited. He has gone ahead of us...but we will be reunited in Perfection.

If you have questions, please let me know, I'll do my best to answer or direct you to someone who can.

On us, three weeks later

It's been nearly a month since Isaiah was taken Home. How are we doing? I don't really know.

Most of the time we're fine.

Physically:

I'm pretty much healed from the delivery. This helps a lot, I think, with the fits of anger I had the first two weeks after he left us. My appetite, after an initial decrease, is back to normal. Unfortunately, my hair, which has just started growing back from my post-Charlie-pardem hair loss, coming back in wild wings in awkward places, is now falling out again. This is very frustrating, not to mention disgusting. I can't pick Charlie up from the floor without then having to pluck obscene amounts of hair from between her toes and fingers...sigh.

I am still very tired. No one told Charlie that mommy's body is recovering from chaos, and filling to the brim with excess hormones, so she's being the busy 10 month old she is, and I'm doing my best to keep up on about 6 hours of sleep a night.

Emotionally:

Initially I had such a great perspective on this whole thing. The baby center we were in plays a little lullaby every time a baby was born, and as I labored to birth our stillborn son, I surprised myself with being happy for those mommy's who were marvelling over their new baby. I had expected to be bitter, but I was so glad that they were spared from my pain. I also surprised myself to discover that it's now that I'm bitter. I see pregnant women everywhere, and experience varying levels of jealousy, from slight (generally people I know) to extreme (strangers). I see people carrying newborns or playing with their baby boys and feel a lot of self pity. Why did this have to happen to us, is a common refrain in my mind.

I've learned the things that will set me off - some I can avoid (gazing at the baby boy clothes at H&M and thinking of what I would be buying had things gone differently), some I can't (pregnant women are every where. You can't dodge 'em.)

I often want to feel numb. I have a stack of cards and a dried rose from a flower arrangement waiting to find their place in the keepsake box from the hospital. Although the box is sitting in my line of vision most of the day, I dread opening it, and feeling the pain that, in a way, I've buried in it. As long as I don't open that box, see his tiny footprints, the notes from our nurses, the reminders of the son who went ahead of us, I can contain myself. I don't have to feel.

It's a really hard thing, grieving for someone who was such a large part of you, but whom you never knew. I don't really know how to do it. For 19 weeks he was growing in me, reminding me he was there first with cravings for salty foods, then spicy foods, then with the nudges that a mother can't get enough of. Then he was gone. In my arms for the briefest moment, then presented to me as ashes in a little wooden box. It's almost surreal. I told a friend recently that sometimes I feel like I'm recovering from a disease. I was hospitalized, sent home to recover, then sent a nice big bill as a reminder. There's no baby at my breast, no first smiles to wait eagerly for, just another bill to stress over.

Tim is experiencing this in an entirely different way. When he told his coworkers that we lost the baby, the reaction, for the most part was, "Oh yeah, I knew someone who had a miscarriage once. That sucks." and on they go with whatever work related thing they have.

To say "That sucks" to someone who actually held his dead child in his arms doesn't cut it. I watched my husband sob when the nurse sadly said, "A little baby boy," as she wrapped him up for us to hold. Tim clung to him, holding him longer than even I did, kissing his face, gazing at his hands, already missing the boy we'll never know. So, I'm beyond frustrated that his coworkers aren't more sympathetic, and even more so that some of them hold grudges over having to cover for him for those three days he took to be with me in the hospital and at home while we grieved.

Reading this through, it kinda sounds like we're a mess. Sometimes we (usually me) are. But day to day, we're doing really well. We have hope and faith that Isaiah is with Christ in Heaven, and that eases the blow of his loss immensely. It enables us to pull ourselves, or eachother, from despair. To seek strength in the Lord. To be better parents to Charlie, not taking her for granted. This post was written purely from my human response to my loss, but there's a lot more to it.

We have hope, and I'm going to tell you about it. Read on, friends.

For my birthday, I had a son

(This will be long, and hard...feel free to skip it. I just want to log it while it's fresh in my memory, and this is pretty much the only place I write...)

Wednesday July 6th, I went in for my 19 week OB exam. I was vaguely worried, because I'd been feeling the baby move for a few weeks, and the last 4 days or so I hadn't. I'd also noticed that suddenly things were too spicy...and impossibility the week before. I pushed these things out of my head and walked through the office doors. A half hour later, the fear I'd refused to acknowledge was confirmed as my doctor fruitlessly searched for the baby's heartbeat. She wheeled in an ultrasound machine, keeping it turned away from me, then took me to a bigger ultrasound machine and showed me my little baby, and its missing heartbeat.

I was given a few minutes to collect myself and call Tim, then was given an insane amount of information about how to proceed, most of which bounced right off of my ringing ears. I came away with the understanding that one way or another, I was delivering our tiny beloved baby on Friday.

Thursday afternoon I was given laminaria, a seaweed based induction agent. I went home to let the process start overnight. Friday morning, Tim and I checked into the birth center, were put in a secluded room (they were sensitive to keep us apart from evidence of live births) and introduced us to our nurse, Evie. I began sobbing as soon as the nurse entered the room, so she gave us some time to come to terms with the reason we were there. Soon after that, my OB came in and removed the laminaria and started me on cytotec, which would continue my dilation and kick start labor. For the next several hours I experienced increasingly stronger contractions while Tim and I researched names with beautiful and hopeful meanings. We tucked prospective names in the back of our minds, and read Psalm 139 for comfort. We discussed God's grace upon unborn babies, and our faith that He was already holding this little one I was cherishing in my womb.

Tim's parents brought Charlie in to see us, since it had become clear that this wouldn't be a quick process, and we would be spending our first night away from her. Unfortunately, this time was when my contractions started getting more painful, and I had to stop everything when I had one - about every 4-5 minutes. I hung in for awhile, but could tell I was grouchy and impatient, so we called for an epidural and said goodbye to Charlie and Tim's parents. It was about 4:00. The epidural was given around 4:45, and it hurt. A lot. I said "Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow," which surprised Tim, because I tend to be silent in my pain, but as soon as the medicine started I completely forgot that there was ever pain. Pretty soon I felt no pain, just a lot of heaviness in my legs. I was completely paralyzed, and my feet were hanging heavily off the bed (this is one time that long legs was not a blessing). I continually made Tim shift my leg to a more comfortable position, and was amazed that he could lift those 1000 ton things.

At this point I was given another dose of cytotec, and told how I was progressing. My dad came to visit after this exam, and just sat with us for a few hours. We talked a little, watched some How I Met Your Mother, and just whiled away the time. He left around 7, and Tim and looked at names a little more. Our nurses switched. Maria tended to my every need, almost seemed to know them before I told her. My blood pressure had been low and inconsistent ever since the epidural, so she called the anaesthesiologist in the adjust my dosage, and she checked on me constantly. I was given meds to bring my blood pressure back up, and then I tried to sleep, and Tim fell asleep immediately. A few hours later I felt the pressure shift, and I new I was about to deliver. It was about 11:00, and I started saying, "Tim." Nothing. "Tim. Tim. TIM. TIM!" Finally, he woke, and called the nurse, trying to explain what I had told him, ending with "but you should probably come talk to her, cause I'm half asleep." Maria came in, and saw that the water bag was coming, called the doctor and told me just to breathe.

My doctor came in, explained what she was seeing, and then told me she had an emergency c-section to do, and asked me to fight against the urge to push, she'd be back in a half hour. Another doctor was made aware, and a few minutes later I woke Tim again (he was tired) and told him it was time, and get the nurse now.

Maria, a doctor and another nurse came in. Despite my not pushing, the intact water bag holding the baby had slipped out with the help of contractions. I pushed to get the placenta out, though I couldn't feel if I was pushing, so I was constantly apologizing and asking if I was doing it. Eventually the doctor opened the bag, and the baby was cleaned.

The nurse told us "It's a little boy," and Tim began sobbing. They brought him to us, and Tim held him first. He was the size of my hand, not fully formed, but his tiny face already had similarities to Charlie's face, his hands, smaller than dimes had all their fingers, and the smallest fingernails you can imagine. His feet were the same way, tiny and beautiful.

I held my son in my arms just after midnight, as the day became my 30th birthday. He looked so peaceful, like he was sleeping, cradled in my hands. I looked at Tim, and, in my post delivery haze, I said, "I know we haven't talked about this name, but what about Isaiah, since we've found such comfort in the Isaiah 139 passage?" Tim immediately agreed that it was perfect, and seconds later we realized that the passage was Psalm 139, but we didn't care. His name was Isaiah. It came out of nowhere, but fit better than any of the other names we'd discussed.

We passed him back and forth between us, took pictures, touched his tiny hands, and talked with him. I told him I loved him, that I was so sorry he couldn't stay with us, and that we would always miss him.

Eventually we gave him to the nurse, sobbing. She carefully took hand and footprints, made a mold of his footprints, and called the photography company to schedule an early morning session. They told her that they only do pictures for babies 20 weeks or older, so this amazing woman bought a disposable camera, dressed our baby and took pictures in the studio for us. She was amazing, going above and beyond in every way.

It was about 2 am, and Tim and I went to sleep. I woke a few hours later, and Maria changed my bedding and whispered, "Next time, He will have a happier ending for you." She then told me Isaiah's measurements, 9 ounces, 7.9 inches. She told me she'd taken the pictures, and we could get them developed when we were ready, and put a fabric keepsake box on my bedside table, telling me to open it later.

In the morning I opened the box and found cards from the whole nursing staff, the mold of his footprints, cards with his hand and footprints, a tiny blue teddy bear, a journal, a sachet and a few other trinkets.

A few hours later we were discharged.

I was dreading sharing my birthday with this event. But, as it unfolded, I found it to be so much more peaceful and healing than I expected. If you can only hold your baby one time, it should be on a momentous and memorable day...I love that I share my birthday with him. It can't be overlooked or forgotten, it's a part of my life.

He will be missed and longed for every day, but we know that the Lord is holding him close. Isaiah's name means "Yahweh is my salvation," and that is where our comfort lies. His accidental name is perfect.

Psalm 139:13-16

For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there were none of them.

He Arose!

He arose, hallelujah, Christ arose!

Happy Easter, friends. Today we rejoice in our Resurrected Lord, without whom, eternal life would not be possible.

Praise the Lord that Jesus conquered death, living and reigning eternally, making it possible for us to have salvation.

"Oh death, where is your victory? Oh death, where is your sting?" I Corinthians 15:55

Thankful for Good Friday

without which, we could not receive the gift of salvation.

On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross

The emblem of suff'ring and shame

And I love that old cross,

Where the dearest and best

For a world of lost sinners was slain

So I'll cherish the old rugged cross

Till my trophies at last I'll lay down

I will cling to the old rugged cross

And exchange it some day for a crown

source

What's Charlie Wearing Wednesday...or Thursday as it were

Well, second week of doing WCWW, and I failed to post it. But, I had a very good reason. My 88 year old grandma took a fall last week, breaking her femur bone. While she was in the hospital, an infection was discovered, and my sweet, feisty grandma quickly deteriorated. She went Home to be with her Lord and Savior, as well as her husband and daughter early yesterday. So, the day was spent with my dad rather than in my photo studio, aka, rocking chair.

Tim, Grandma and me at my brothers wedding in Castaic Lake, CA
Grandma and my side of the family at my wedding in Renton WA

So, despite the sadness of the day, Charlie brought us lots of joy, and I did manage to take pictures of outfits #3 and #4 before bed. (Yes, it was a 4 outfit day, and neither of these were what I planned for her to wear for WCWW).

This outfit is a hodge podge of various pieces. The headband is one I won over a year before Charlie was even conceived. It's from BudsButtonsandBows on Etsy. She puts snaps on each headband and bud, button or bow, so you can make your own color/style combination. Genius! The top was a gift from a friend, and is Circo from Target. The pants are part of a Carters fleece set, and came with a skirted hoodie, that she got for Christmas. The socks are also Carters, and are clearly on their way off...also a gift, so this outfit cost me nothing.

This next outfit is a sweet snugly sleeper that I got at my first shower. You can see the confusion on Charlie's face as she notices her bear feet. Also, forgive the squints, this poor little girl has the dreaded pink eye.

That's that, hopefully next week I'll actually get this up on Wednesday.

A Shower

On Sunday, some of the wonderful women I grew up under threw me a shower. It was such a great time to spend time with these women who knew and loved my mom so well, and who watched me grow up and helped shape who I am.

Although Debbie couldn't be there, she sent a prayer that she wrote for Tim, me and the little one to come.

Lord Jesus, we bring before you your precious child, Erin and her new little baby girl. What a wonderful and amazing miracle this is. We know that you have knit this little one together, and you already know every hair that will be on her head, the color of her eyes, the tilt of her chin. You know her hopes and dreams, her gifts and talents, her strengths and weaknesses. You have formed her amazing little personality to your precise specifications (which Erin and Tim might need some reminding of as the years go by).

Lord, Thank you for the awesome gift you are about to place in Erin and Tim's hands. May you give them the strength, love, wisdom, joy, peace and sense of humor that they will need as they raise this little one in your magnificent love and faithfulness.

We place this precious baby girl in your hands knowing that you will never leave her, that you will be beside her all the days of her life. Thank you for this promise from your word.

And Lord, I want to thank you for Erin's loving mom, Ellen, who was such a great role model for a mother that faithfully loved, nurtured, guided, and taught your promises to her children. Thank you for the friend she was to all of us and the way she touched each one of us in her unique way. If possible, let her know how much we love her and miss her, and will be seeking her again one day.

I pray as her friends, we will take seriously the task of encouraging and loving her daughter Erin, her son-in-law Tim and this new little life that is about to come into the world.

Thank you for the blessing of new life.

In your name we pray, Amen.

What an amazing start to a wonderful day. I am so grateful for these wonderful women.

What an amazing day. I am so thankful for these godly women in my life.

Thoughts on Grief

A dear friend of mine just lost her brother unexpectedly. I remember a time when I wouldn't have been able to relate to this, but in the past (almost) three years I've come to know the weight of grief, how it gnaws at your thoughts and your stomach simeltaneously, how it strikes when you're least expecting, and how you never truly get over it. The world wants us to cope. Just pretend nothing is wrong for as long as you can, and then do whatever you need to to "deal" with the pain.

As believers we have an option so much better than coping. We can hope. We understand a little bit about the grace of God. We know that His hand is in this. He's orchestrated the whole event, for reasons we can't understand, to ends we can't understand. We find hope in the assurance of salvation, the promise of Heaven - a land infinitely better than anything we can imagine, and in knowing that death is not the end.

It seems like almost instantly after my mom went Home I panicked over what our relationship would be in Heaven. I was terrified (this sounds horrible, but understand the state I was in) that when we arrive in Heaven we're so captivated by Jesus that we don't care about who's around us. I followed this line of reasoning to the determination that if this is true, then essentially I would never see my mom again. That, although we would be sharing the same Home, we wouldn't be interested in each other. This was a thought I couldn't bear. So, I began my research. I pulled out my heavy concordance and searched the Scriptures for references to Heaven. I read parts of Randy Alcorn's book, Heaven. One of my mom's friends had sent it to her a few weeks before she passed. And I found comfort. Scripture does point to relationships in Heaven. Yes, we will be captivated by Jesus, naturally, but it is a citizenship. A world that will work similar to ours, but perfected. Looking at the garden of Eden, the world the way God intended, a world without sin, there was communion between God and man and communion between man and man. My biggest fear has been alleviated by studying God's Word, and the works of men who follow Him.

Another thing I came to realize was that my mom's death was not about me. I wandered for a time thinking, "Why did I have to lose my mom?" It took me a longer amount of time that I would like to admit to recognize that this wasn't done to punish me or something of that sort. Yes, as a bi-product I was affected completely. And I don't mean to say that God didn't/doesn't intend to teach me through it, but ultimately God took my mom because it was time for her to join Him. She'd suffered so much for so long. I've only really learned how extreme her suffering was in the past few years. God was ready to take her pain away. To give her a new body, whole and beautiful, not crippled and broken. She'd spent her life trying to help people know and love God, and it was time for her to have her reward.

I don't know if this makes sense, or if anyone will read it, but this is what I've been thinking about the past few days. Pray for my friend and her family, that they will have comfort and know the Lord in a new way through this. I'll leave you with this:

1 Corinthians 15-
50 I tell you this, brothers: flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. 51 Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, 52 in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. 53 For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality. 54 When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written:
“Death is swallowed up in victory.”55 “O death, where is your victory?O death, where is your sting?”
56 The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. 57 But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
58 Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.