Including Angels in Christmas

I have often seen newly bereaved parents ask how they can incorporate their angel children into holidays and particularly, Christmas.  Here are just a few ideas

1) We have this poem that belonged to Grandma and Grandad Burt, it sits on our piano at Christmas time:

Christmas in Heaven

I see the countless Christmas trees around the world below.
Please wipe away the tear,
For I am spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year.
I hear the many Christmas songs that people hold so dear,
But the sound of music can’t compare with the Christmas choir up here.
I have no words to tell you the joy their voices bring
For it is beyond description to hear the angels sing.
I know how much you miss me, I see the pain inside your heart,
But I am not so far away we really aren’t apart.
So be happy for me, dear ones, you know how I hold you dear.
And be so glad I’m spending time with Jesus Christ this year.
I sent each of you a memory of my undying love,
After all, love is a gift more precious than pure gold.
It was always most important in the stories Jesus told;
Please love and keep my commandments as my Father said to do,
For I count the blessings of love he has for each one of you.
So have a merry Christmas and wipe away the tear,
Remember I am spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year.

I love having this as a reminder that Ethne and Thomas are never far and that thy are in the best place they can be at this time of year.  (I can't find an author for this so if anyone knows please tell me).

2) That first Christmas after Ethne died I felt so lost.  This was supposed to be a happy time, but I was so sad and empty.  Mr. E was still so young and, while he was a huge light, it was still so hard.  For my own sanity I decided to say no to all the things, parties, family gatherings, Christmas day visits, I just didn't have it in me.  We needed a way to remember and honor Ethne, while keeping Christmas a happy time for Mr. E, we needed somewhere for the love to go.  So Lawrence suggested that we purchase gifts for her, and donate them.  The first few years we just dropped toys and clothes into donation boxes, but we started adopting a girl, about Ethne's age, off a local angel tree and it feels much more personal.  We try to include grandparents in this, if they are interested, and we also have our living children help with choosing gifts.  It's a small way to help them remember, and to share our extra love with others.  Last year we started including Thomas in this tradition as well.




3) Purchase, hang, or make a tree ornament in memory of your child.  Each year we get ornaments that represent something fun we have done or that represents each member of our family and hang them all on the tree.  It is fun sharing memories each year, and the boys love seeing all their ornaments and hanging them.  We get ornaments for Ethne and Thomas as well.  To remember who each ornament belongs to we mark each one with an initial and the year.

4) Decorate at the cemetery.  Last year I posted on instagram (or facebook, or some other social media) about how we used to get pretty extravagant with decorating Ethne's headstone, and how I was scaling back and keeping it simple.  For some simple works, but or others it is a sincere act of love to go all out decorating a loved-one's headstone or grave for holidays and Christmas in particular.  I say you do you, and don't let anyone tell you that you are wrong.  If a tree with ornaments and lights is right for you, go right ahead, if a simple tinsel garland or nativity does the trick, then leave it at that; and if you find that it changes from one year to the next that's okay too, just do what makes you feel like you have honored your child.

4) Acts of service in their name.  Some people prefer acts of service over gift giving in their child's memory.  Things such as food drives, clothing drives, blood drives, serving meals at a soup kitchen, and so much more are often done in the memory of angels.

5) Monetary donations in a loved one's name are another great way to remember a child.  Donate to a cancer foundation, or a not-for-profit children's hospital, a private school, or a ballet school.  Choose something that was or would have been meaningful to your child and give what you can.

6) Hang a stocking, or other decoration for your child.  My mom made beautiful stockings for each of my children, Ethne and Thomas included, and we hang them every year.

7) We believe in Eternal families, that we will be reunited with Ethne and Thomas after we die, and we will get a chance to raise them when Christ returns.  In order to receive these blessings there are things we must do, and covenants we must keep, so each year we set goals to help us keep our covenants and draw closer to Jesus Christ, who makes it all possible.  Goals like studying our scriptures more diligently, attending the temple more regularly, or memorizing the Articles of Faith.  We write these goals down and place them in Ethne and Thomas's stockings as symbolic gifts to them.  Even if you don't have these same beliefs you can set goals to live a better life by serving those around you, being more patient, loving yourself better, and more and give these as symbolic gifts to your child(ren).


This list is not exhaustive by any means, but it is a place to start.  Please remember that everyone grieves differently and if nothing feels right to you, keep searching for that something that does and never let anyone tell you that you're doing it wrong.  Be gentle with yourself and allow yourself time and space to grieve in what ever ways work for you.  I hope this can give those seeking ways to honor their loved ones this season some ideas and can help bring some peace.

The Name

Each of our children's names have special meaning.  Both Mr. E and Baby J have family names, Ethne's first name is also a family name.  So when it came to choosing a name for our new Princess we searched for something that would also have some meaning.  Lawrence and I tossed around a few names before landing on one that we both really loved.  But then we remembered that some dear friends had recently named their daughter the same thing.  After really feeling that this was the name we wanted and finding out that we would be having a girl I asked our friends if it would be okay for us to use the name too, they kindly agreed.

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,

Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise;

My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,

Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

Thou stock-dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen,

Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den,

Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forebear,

I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair.

How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighboring hills,

Far mark'd with the courses of clear winding rills,

There daily I wander as noon rises high

My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye.

How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below,

Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow;

There oft as mild Ev'ning weeps over the lea

The sweet scented birk shades my Mary and me.

Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,

And winds by the cot where my Mary resides,

How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,

As gathering sweet flow'rets she stems thy clear wave.

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,

Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays,

My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,

Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

~Robert Burns, Nickel Creek

When we found out that baby would be a girl some people asked us if we would memorialize Ethne in her name.  The idea appealed to me, but we wanted her to have her own name, and not one that would place expectations on her.  A few years ago we had an experience with this song that created a lasting love for it and a treasured memory that involved Ethne.  I posted briefly about it here.  And thus we named our newest addition Afton.  It's a name with deep meaning for us that calls to mind beautiful memories of many loved ones that have gone before us, including Ethne.

But for blogging purposes we will call her Princess A.

"It will all be ok"

Two weeks ago was Ethne's four-year angelversary.  Lawrence's parents were in town, so we met them for our traditional breakfast.  Then we went to visit the cemetery where my parents and younger brothers met us with balloons.  The boys had fun stoping around in the mostly undisturbed snow while the rest of us talked and froze.  We released balloons, shed some tears, then all went our own ways.


Lawrence had to work, and I managed the day alright.  I spent it with my boys, playing and snuggling.  It wasn't really until I was putting them to bed that things got a little "ugly."

Putting two busy boys to bed is always an adventure.  It was a Saturday, so they had baths.  J has become rather stubborn and independent so things have to be done just so or he has a fit, E has figured out some fun bedtime stalling technics, like getting into his jammies as slowly as humanly possible.  This often leads to some frustration on my part.  But then there's a fun part, where we read stories (E has been working on some sight words), say prayers, and sing songs.  The boys love to snuggle together in E's bed while we sing and they sing along with me, which always brings a smile to my face.  At the end we always sing "Bushel and a Peck" to each child, individually.  J while we chase him into his own room and tuck him in; and E while we scratch his back.  It was while tucking J in that it hit me...

J was only about a month younger than Ethne was when we lost her.  Then the tears came.  I couldn't stop them.  My sweet baby climbed into my fading lap and hugged me as I sobbed.  E called to me from his room, wondering when it was his turn.  Then Lawrence came home, and found me sobbing, on the floor, clinging to J.  He joined us on the floor, called E into the room, and tried to explain why I was so sad.  Then he asked E to give me a hug.

Without hesitation my tender-hearted boy was next to me, his skinny arms around my neck, and with all the gentleness a 4-year-old can muster he whispered to me, "It's all going to be ok, mommy.  It will all be ok."  Then he jumped up and ran to find his Princess Ethne book.  He climbed onto my lap-- which J had vacated-- and asked me to read to him.

Through my tears I managed most of the story, with some help from E, but I couldn't make it through the last several pages.  One of these pages has a picture of Lawrence and me, on our wedding day, in front of the temple.  It reads "Because Mommy and Daddy were married in the temple we know that we will get to be with Ethne again."

At that page E turned around and hugged me again, "It will all be ok, Mommy."

Five simple words, out of the mouth of a child, taught me a lesson that night.  My sweet boy has yet to be faced with many of life's great challenges-- he is only 4-years-old, his greatest trial is learning how to share with his brother-- yet he still understands, and has faith, in the things that we are trying to teach him.  He was so very firm in his belief that everything will be ok, because we have taught him that it will.  And the Lord has promised us that it will...

"Search diligently, pray always, and be believing, and all things shall work together for your good..." D&C 90:24

"Therefore, he giveth this promise unto you, with an immutable covenant that they shall be fulfilled; and all things wherewith you have been afflicted shall work together for your good, and to my name’s glory, saith the Lord."  D&C 98:3

So it is, every day, we move forward with faith in the Lord's promises that "all things will work together for [our] good" and that we will be with Ethne again.  We move forward with faith that "it will all be ok."

Once upon a time...

A few months ago I expressed concern that my other children wouldn't know Ethne.  Mr. E was so young when the accident happened that he doesn't remember anything and Baby J and new little miss will never know their oldest sister, in this life.  I need them all to know of her, to know who she is and recognize her in pictures.  It makes me feel more like my family is whole.

When my mom saw that post and learned of my concern she called me up with an excellent idea.  As most people know, I have two younger brothers that are adopted.  When G (the older of the two) was still pretty young he started asking questions about where he came from so my mom wrote him a story about how he came to be part of our family.  She suggested that I do the same, write a story about Ethne that we could read with our kids.

So I set to work.  I started looking at printing companies that I knew would allow me to put together my own picture book.  And I got stumped.  Most of the companies had a minimum page number that I knew I wouldn't be able to meet and/or required too many pictures per page.  So I turned to social media and my friends gave some great suggestions.  I tried a few of their ideas and landed at the Walmart photo center, where I was able to choose a template, and then edit it as I pleased, it only required one picture per page, and the minimum page count was do-able.

So I got to work.  I chose pictures that I thought were good representations of Ethne, her spunk, her love, her beauty, and even her not so fun side.  I wanted to be honest about her and her life and not make her seem too perfect, because she wasn't always.  The story came pretty easily.



"Once upon a time a beautiful little girl was born..."  She loved her mom, and dad, and her brother.  She was silly, threw tantrums, and loved everyone she could.  Then there was an accident and she went to heaven.  Because we are an eternal family we will get to see her again, and she can help us when we need her.  I also included the scripture John 13:15.

We gave it to Mr. E for Christmas.  He loves it.  He pretty much has it memorized and likes to take it to church and read it at bed time.  I cry every time I read it.  Baby J reads it with us too and has started to recognize Ethne, it makes my heart happy.

Hiatus

It' been a while.

It's not that things have been particularly busy, more that I've struggled to find words to express the things I've wanted to say.  I'm still struggling.  In spite of that I know it is time to post something.

Ethne's birthday is in two weeks.  It's a day I look forward to and dread at the same time.  I'm excited for our service activities and to hear from others about what they are doing to love and serve others, but I'm also saddened that I am facing another (of many) birthdays for my Princess who is not physically here.

As I contemplate the acts of service we will participate in this year and the "celebration" I can't help but think about my boys.  I so want them to know their sister.  I need for them to understand who she
was, and still is, but they are so young.  Sometimes I feel like I am failing at this.  Mr. E knows who she is in pictures, and we often tell him that she lives with Jesus, which I think has confused him (he often calls Ethne Jesus when identifying her).  When I try to talk to him about her I often wonder if he's listening, or if he's just tuning me out.  And sometimes he changes the subject very quickly on me.  It hurts sometimes.  I try to tell him how much Ethne loves him, and what she did for him, but some times I get the impression that he just doesn't care.  I realize that he is only 4 and that much of this is beyond his comprehension, but that doesn't make it any easier.  I just wish I knew how to help him understand.  Baby J really doesn't understand, but then he doesn't really talk much either, so he can't tell me if he does.  I just need so badly for them to know their sister and I don't know how to help them.  I can only hope that some day they will understand and that these birthdays and angelversaries will come to mean something to them too and not just be days when mommy cries a lot.

I'm still not entirely sure what our 6 acts of love will be this November 11, but I know that they will be healing, in a way.  We will attend the temple, visit the cemetery, and have cake, that much I know.  As for the rest... we will have to see.  Lawrence and I would like to invite everyone who would like to join us in providing 6 acts of love for others during the week of Ethne's birthday.  They don't have to be anything big, things as simple as smiling at someone you wouldn't typically smile at can make a big difference.  We loved hearing about the things others did last year, it was like getting long-distance hugs from those who shared with us, and we will look forward to it again this year.  Help us celebrate the life of Ethne and the love that she so willingly gave and bring some of that love to those around you.  We will be doing the same.

It's not you, it's me

This time of year is so exciting for parents.  Summer is drawing its last breaths and Fall is slowly beginning to spread its colors.  Crayons, notebooks, pencils, and backpacks line almost every aisle of every store.  For some this routine is old hat-- you and your kids have done this before, the new clothes, shoes, supplies, maybe it's even your last year doing the dance.  For others it's a first and it is very exciting, this back to school thing.

Then there's some of us, scrolling through our social media feeds when we are unexpectedly hit by a picture of your first-timer.  The one we were pregnant with together.  The one we both anticipated and planned and dreamed for at the same time.  Your "baby" that's not really a baby any more.  You cried, she held your hand, he tripped as he crossed the threshold of the classroom, you snapped pictures, then they smiled and waved as you walked away, leaving them to this new adventure.  The pictures you proudly display to all the world, "my baby started school today."  And I'm staring at the screen with tears rolling down my face, your baby that my baby played with, your baby that we joked would date my baby, is starting school today, and mine is not.  And I can't bring myself to click the "like" button or double tap the picture like I have many of my friends' older children's back to school posts.

It's not you, it's not your child.  It's me and my child.  Somewhere deep inside I am happy for you.  I even think your little girl, in her skirt, leggings, princess shirt and pigtails is darling, and your boy in his button-down plaid and crisp jeans is very handsome, but the grieving mom in me can't bare to look at the picture long enough to really appreciate these things and show you that, even with a simple click of the mouse.  Because with each picture of your child, who is growing up, learning, and LIVING I am reminded that mine is not.  I am reminded just a little bit more of how much I miss her. I still like you, I still think your kid is great, but I just can't bring myself to witness this particular milestone with you.

(Anti)social

Before I get into this post I want to make it clear that this is not about anyone but me, this is a problem I have struggled with since losing Ethne and none of this is a reflection on any family, friends, acquaintances, or even strangers.

In high school I was known as a bit of a flirt, I had lots of friends, and was busy with lots of extra curricular school and church activities.  When I moved on to college at SUU I got involved in music, had a fun job with a lot of people I liked, had good roommates, and dated quite a bit.  BYU-I was a little different, I still had a good job, I kept dating, but I didn't exactly have roommates my first semester there, and only had two while I was engaged.  The point is, I was fairly outgoing.   After Lawrence and I got married things changed some, but we still enjoyed having friends over for dinner and/or games.

Then the accident happened and Ethne died.

Since the accident I have struggled with social anxiety.  I struggle in large groups of family or friends.  Part of the reason I struggle is because I am afraid of running into triggers then having people wonder why I am crying for what may seem to be no reason.  Meeting new people is also a struggle because they often don't know about the accident and they didn't know Ethne, losing it around new people is even more difficult and terrifying.  Making new friends is tough because they often don't understand that new people who didn't know Ethne are harder to talk about her with.  Family events can be particularly difficult since there tends to be cousins, nieces, and siblings that can cause me to break down.  I also struggle with small talk, and tend to keep to myself at large gatherings.

I pray for strength, I put on a brave face, and I try to get out there, despite the struggle.  I need friends just like everyone else, it's just hard sometimes.  So if you invite me to something and I turn you down, please don't take it personally.  Keep trying, keep talking to me, it means a lot, even if I don't show it well.

Ethne was here

I've had a lot of what I call "Ethne was here" moments lately.  Moments when my boys do something so characteristically "Ethne" that I can't help but think of her.  Moments when I know that, even though Mr. E doesn't remember her, and Baby J never knew her in this life, I get a witness that they do know each other.  These moments are sweet tender mercies to me.

Chocolate toast

Snuggles on the couch with blanket and a pillow (or daddy)

hanging out on mommy and daddy's bed

Sleeping Babies

When I was in elementary school (I don't remember what grade) my class read on of the "Little House on the Prairie" stories.  In it Papa Ingalls was not home overnight and a bear (I think) came too close to the cabin and Mama Ingalls had to scare it away.  After the incident the mom picked up her sleeping baby and rocked with him.  My teacher explained to us that holding a sleeping baby can be one of the most comforting feelings.  I didn't understand it at the time.

Now I do.

There is just something about having an innocent child tucked in your arms that can calm almost anything.  Their rhythmic breathing, the sound of their tiny snores and sighs, and the complete and utter trust that they put in you when they sleep while you hold them seems to make everything else melt away.  This is one of the reasons I love to check on my boys each night before I go to bed.  No matter how tough of a day we have had, no matter how much yelling I may or may not have done, no matter the number of time-outs, the frustrations, or stresses, even just watching my boys sleep is incredibly comforting-- bonus points if I get to snuggle one or both of them for even just a few seconds while they snooze.  And during those quiet moments I can sometimes catch glimpses of Ethne.

The first time I saw Ethne after the accident was when we went to the funeral home to dress her.  I thought she might look like she was sleeping, but I was wrong and it made things so much harder than I thought they would be.  We were told that we could hold her if we wanted to, and before we saw her I did, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it once I saw her.  Her precious body just lay there on the table, stiff and cold, no sweet breaths, no tiny snores or sighs, she didn't even smell like herself.  Her head, face, and body looked bruised and pale and her perpetual mischievous grin was gone.  It hurt my heart so much to see her that way.  We slowly dressed her--with me bawling and Lawrence doing most of the heavy lifting (and work)-- in her sparkly Christmas dress, with Disney princess panties, tights, black shoes, and an elephant necklace.  I held her cold hand for most of the dressing, too lost in my grief to recognize that the body on the table wasn't really my little girl, but only her mortal vessel.

The funeral was different.  Before the funeral I took some medication that left me a bit dazed.  Add to that all the people and the whirl of activity and I was in a very different state.  I was still very sad, I cried through all of the viewing and funeral.  Our funeral director tried to allow for us to have time alone to hold her, and I was very much looking forward to it, but because of the throngs of people who came we ended her viewing late.  So during the family prayer I held my baby girl's body for the last time.  It wasn't near long enough.  It was the most alert I had felt since the accident, she was wrapped in a blanket made by loving hands and holding her Ariel doll.  As long as I didn't look at her face, covered in makeup, I could almost believe that she wasn't gone.  It was almost like she was sleeping in my arms.  Then it was over-- someone took her away from me, despite my protests-- and I had to accept that that was it.  It didn't go over well.

Since then I have come to realize that the body I held that day, the one that we put in the ground in the white box, was only Ethne's mortal vessel.  She still lives, just on a different plain, as a spirit.  She is with us often and instead of me holding her while she sleeps to calm myself, she holds me in my times of need.  It is strange, as a parent, to have that role reversed, but one day it will be the right way around again-- because we are an eternal family.

Ephant

We talk a lot about Ethne and her elephant...

Summer 2010 we came to Utah for a visit.  During that visit we went to the Hogle Zoo with Grandma, Grandpa, and my two younger brothers while Lawrence went to some job interviews.  It was so much fun to watch my youngest brother and Ethne (only a couple months apart in age) interact and their reactions to the animals.  Ethne was particularly fond of the Elephants and the large cats (tigers, leopards, lions).  Ethne was just figuring out many animal sounds so she was particularly excited to see the ones that she knew the sounds for.  After we sufficiently wore our legs out and went for a train ride we stopped in the gift shop to get souvenirs for each of the kids.  As we walked in there was a tower of stuffed animals that Ethne was instantly attracted to.  The first animal I picked off the shelf for her was the elephant.  She hugged it and held on tight.  I tried to offer her other animals, toys, books, even shirts.   But she would have none of it, shaking her head at each new offering and clutching the elephant even tighter while buzzing her lips together to make an elephant sound.  She was sold.  After that she and the elephant were inseparable.  It slept with her, rode in the car with her, went to Grandma's house with her, she even wanted to take it to church.  When she started talking the elephant quickly became known as "ephant" since she dropped the L when she said it.  It was one of the three toys (along with her Ariel doll and her yellow lab puppy) that she wasn't willing to share when Mr. E came along.  One time Ethne got a tummy bug and her ephant caught the brunt of her upset tummy.  Ethne was not happy that I had to wash Ephant and she waited by the washing machine for about half the cycle for it to come out (that's a long time for a little girl) and then watched a fair amount of the dryer cycle too.  Ephant was always the first thing she made sure was in bed with her.

It was also the first thing I was able to hold in bed with me while in the hospital.

Elephants were special to me before Ethne's ephant ever came along, though.  When I was a teenager my Grandparents served a 3-year mission in Zimbabwe, Africa.  When they come home they brought back lots of souvenirs that they shared with my aunts, uncles, cousins, and other family.  One of these souvenirs was a carved wooden egg of adult and baby elephants under a tree.  My Grandma gave this beautiful carving to me and told me that it reminded them of me because of the way I was always trying to be helpful and kind with my younger cousins.  I have always treasured these words from my Grandma and love having this carving in my home.  Before this gift elephants had been among my favorite animals, but this bumped them right up to the top-- maybe that's why that was the first toy I offered Ethne at the zoo so many years later.  Either way, I'm glad I did and so glad that she loved it so much.







Now I have a collection of Elephants to remind me that Ethne is always near.  Of course I have Ethne's treasured Ephant, but I also have my carving, an elephant key chain, a painting of Noah leading the elephant onto the ark, several stuffed elephants, a scarf, a beautiful wind chime, jewlery, and more.  I enjoy these gifts and reminders.  I love having Ethne's ephant in pictures, a physical reminder that she is always part of our family, even though she isn't physically with us.  I love the gifts of elephants that others send to me, they show me that they care and that they are thinking about my princess too.

Did you know that the old adage about elephants never forgetting is actually quite accurate?  Elephants have the longest recorded memories of any animal.  Family is also very important to elephants, they tend to stay together in large family groups and all the female elephants help with the care of baby elephants.  Elephants are also the only animal known to mourn and visit the bones of their dead.

I guess elephants and I are just meant to be.

Brave Samantha

March 20, 2015 marked the 69 anniversary of Grandma and Granddad's wedding.  They were able to celebrate it together, surrounded by family and loved ones that they haven't been able to celebrate with for some time.  Meanwhile, those of us left behind celebrated Grandma's life.

Despite this time of year being a busy time for Lawrence's work he was able to work out some time off so we were able to join the rest of the family for Grandma's funeral and a family reunion of sorts.  This reunion included Lawrence's sister, Heidi, and her family, who moved across the country over a year ago.  We haven't really gotten to spend time with them since they moved, so we were very excited to see them.

In the past I have shared that Heidi's oldest, Samantha, has a special place in my heart.  She is my first niece, Ethne's best friend, and a sweet and special little girl.  On this trip I was able to enjoy almost 5 whole days in her presence.  We talked, painted fingernails, read, listened to music, and snuggled.  I can never get enough time with this precious girl.

But sometimes it can be too much...





Being with Samantha can help fill the void I feel with Ethne's absence, but at the same time being with her also seems to make me feel that void more poignantly.  For a short time my arms are filled with a little girl, some of my time can be spent doing the things that I did or would be doing with Ethne, and I love that Heidi so willingly allows me this privilege and that Samantha is such a willing participant.  But all the same, she is not mine, I don't get to take her home with me, kiss her boo-boos, hold her as she sleeps, or many of the other things that mommies get to do with their little girls.

Time with Samantha got to be too much one night as we were in Idaho with everyone.  Marilyn (my mother-in-law), Samantha, and I were in the kitchen and Marilyn was talking to Samantha about how proud she was of her.  Marilyn talked to Samantha about school, making friends, and being brave (Samantha is notoriously timid).  Seeing Grandma and granddaughter having this heart-to-heart was more than I could take as I longed for my Princess to have that opportunity and to be there with me.  I went outside to have a good cry.

As I was outside crying I reflected on the conversation Samantha and Marilyn had been having, especially the part about being brave.  As I was thinking I heard a whisper in my mind that, at the times Samantha needs to be particularly brave, Ethne is by her side, helping her.  My mind saw a distinct picture of Samantha and Ethne holding hands, facing the scary world together.

Heidi and her family spent Monday night with us before flying home early Tuesday morning.  I got up and helped them gather their things, children, and get loaded into the car.  Just before they left I stole a quiet moment alone with Samantha.  I told her what Ethne had told me about helping her be brave.  Samantha smiled, nodded, and told me that she knew that Ethne has been with her and even  shared a specific experience with me.  It never ceases to amaze me how in tune this sweet niece of mine is and how close she and Ethne still are.

I am thankful for my testimony of life after this mortal existence and for experiences that bear witness of this truth to me.  I am thankful for loving family and the strength they lend to me.  I am so very thankful for Samantha and the bond she and Ethne still share and the way Samantha is able to share that bond with me.

Red Headed Little Girls

They find me.  Everywhere I go.  Sometimes it feels like they might be following me.  But the logical part of my brain realizes that it's really just me noticing them in a way I didn't before.

I see them at the park, playing with younger kids, helping them up the stairs and down the slides, stopping them from falling or jumping off something that is too high.  I see them getting mani-pedis on a girls date with their mom.  They're at the store, shopping for cute clothes, or helping wrangle younger siblings.









I see them and a part of me falls apart.

I follow a very popular mommy blogger's instagram.  She has a little redheaded girl.  Her daughter is close to the age Ethne was when we lost her.  I may have to unfollow her instagram.  Each picture tugs at my heart, reveals a new crack, or reopens one that has at least scabbed some.

When we're in public I have to turn away from redheaded little girls.  Sometimes I think it will be ok, I realize that these girls aren't my Princess, but then they flash a mischievous smile and my dam bursts.  Seeing them makes me wonder if Ethne would be like these other little girls.  If her hair would be as long, if it would hang straight or bounce in ringlets.  I wonder if she'd still have the ever present glint in her eye that made you wonder if she was up to something.  I see them doing fun things with their moms and I feel cheated in a way, because I don't get to do those things now.





Part of dealing with grief is learning to live with this jealousy.  Learning to look at these little girls and realize that they are not mine, and that they aren't causing this torment on purpose, or really at all.  It isn't their fault that they remind me of Ethne, or that this reminder makes me miss her even more.

I love little red headed girls, even if they do make me cry.  So if you see me turn away from your red head, don't take it personally, just know that it's part of me dealing with my grief.

Heaven isn't missing this angel any more...

We love you Grandma!  We are sure that Grandad, Billy, Ethne, and so many others are showering you with hugs.

Angelversary 3

I have this problem, I think that it is a problem I have always had to some extent, but it has gotten worse since the accident.  My problem is that I tend to live in the now.  Some may not think that is a problem, but when it comes to planning ahead it really is.  I tend to ignore dates and times and just take life one day at a time, not really thinking ahead and often not planning ahead for events and milestones like birthdays, anniversaries, etc.  Since the accident it has been worse.  This is in part due to the haze that I have been living in, too depressed to really acknowledge much, but also because I put in somewhat of an extra effort into avoiding thinking about certain days that roll around each year.  The day I most try to avoid thinking about is, of course, February 6.

No matter how I try to avoid it, the day comes, every year.  And this year marks Ethne's third angelversary.  She has now had more angelversaries than she had birthdays.  And it isn't fair.  It isn't fair that every November 11 we visit a cemetery instead of hosting a party for a happy little girl.  It isn't fair that every February 6 I am reminded of the worst day(s) of my life.  It isn't fair that, instead of getting to watch my Princess grow and learn each year she is invisibly watching over me.  It isn't fair that twice a year, every year, I basically start the grief cycle over again, denying that these days will come without Ethne here, I get angry with myself for avoiding thinking about it and not planning anything, I try to get out of the day even happening by considering just sleeping right through it, I cry and cry, then I finally come up with something to do, some way to mark these days that I try to avoid.  These two days, almost exactly 9 months apart have become the two most anticipated days of my year, and not in a good way.

The Haze

This has been a very difficult post for me to write, and part of me feels like it is a bit of word vomit.  With every post I think long and hard about what I should write, what I need to write.  I feel like I am often inspired to write the things that I do.  This is one of those posts that I know I have needed to write.  What I share in this post is personal, deeply personal.  I have tried to write a post like this multiple times and every time I let it sit in the blog archives as a draft or I delete it because I am afraid of sharing such personal things.  Recently, however, I have been feeling a particular push to get this post written.  I don't know why or what has triggered this sudden feeling of urgency, but it's there and I can't ignore it.  So please, if you read this, be kind and understand that, unless you have experienced the same things in the same ways that I have, you just don't really understand it the same way.

This is my last post in the five stages of grief from Elizabeth Kuebler-Ross.

"Depression — "I'm so sad, why bother with anything?"; "I'm going to die soon so what's the point?"; "I miss my loved one, why go on?"
"During the fourth stage, the grieving person begins to understand the certainty of death. Much like the existential concept of The Void, the idea of living becomes pointless. Things begin to lose meaning to the griever. Because of this, the individual may become silent, refuse visitors and spend much of the time crying and sullen. This process allows the grieving person to disconnect from things of love and affection, possibly in an attempt to avoid further trauma. Depression could be referred to as the dress rehearsal for the 'aftermath'. It is a kind of acceptance with emotional attachment. It is natural to feel sadness, regret, fear, and uncertainty when going through this stage. Feeling those emotions shows that the person has begun to accept the situation. Oftentimes, this is the ideal path to take, to find closure and make their ways to the fifth step, Acceptance."

"Depressed mood is a feature of some psychiatric syndromes such as major depressive disorder,^[2] but it may also be a normal reaction to life events such as bereavement, a symptom of some bodily ailments or a side effect of some drugs and medical treatments."

Not long ago I realized that I had been living in a sort of haze.  I was on some kind of auto-pilot, going through a lot of the motions, not really putting a whole lot of thought and effort into many of the things I did regularly.  I developed a sort of daily routine with Mr. E and later with Baby J that allowed for me to remain in this sort of waking sleep.  This wasn't a new thing, it started round about the time I woke up in the hospital and what I suspected about Ethne was confirmed.  That means that for the better part of two years I was in this haze.

My days (pre Baby J) looked something like this:

Get up when Mr. E got up, about 8-ish, feed him breakfast, get him dressed, let him pick a show or movie.  Once the show or movie was going Mr. E and I would hunker down on the couch together and I would fall asleep while we snuggled.  Around noon I'd feed him lunch, he'd play until 2-ish when I'd put him down for a nap/quiet time.  While Mr. E napped I'd usually veg, binge watching tv shows, napping, or folding laundry.  Mr. E would get up and play or watch tv while I fixed dinner, often it was something easy, a recipe I had memorized.  We'd eat, more snuggling or bath time, then bed for Mr. E about 8:30.  Every day looked roughly the same with little variation.  After Baby J the days were somewhat similar, just with nursing sessions in between and Baby J involved in the cuddles.

* * *

Not long after the accident several people suggested I go to counseling.  So I went.  The therapist would sit in her chair and ask me to talk about my feelings.  The problem was, I wasn't sure what exactly I was feeling at the time.  All I knew was that it felt like my heart had shattered, but was somehow still beating-- the shattered pieces rubbing their fragile edges together cruelly as they tried to pump pudding thick blood through my veins.  My world revolved around my kids and Ethne had been at the center of my world for just over two years, that was suddenly gone.  Yes, I still had Mr. E, and I thank heaven every day for him, but for a month or so after the accident I wasn't allowed to pick him up and I could hardly hold him by myself, much less get on the floor and play with him.  I had to spend my days practically being babysat, unable to do so many things for myself.

I remember one night, while we were staying with my parents, the week after I had been released from the hospital, I was in bed and Mr. E was supposed to be going to sleep, he was in a crib in the same room as Lawrence and me, and he started crying.  No one else was upstairs, I was trying to call for someone to help, but no one could hear me.  So I got up, very slowly made my way around to his crib, and tried to comfort him.  I couldn't stand up unsupported so I was leaning heavily against the crib, I couldn't look down at my distraught baby because of the neck brace, but I could hear his cries and I could feel his tender arms reaching, grabbing, begging for me to pick him up.  I cried, he cried, and Lawrence finally came back to find us in this mess.  I think that was when the severity of my injuries really sunk in for me.  I also think that's when depression started to take hold.  Yes, I had been very sad before, but the reality didn't quite sink in until that moment, when I was unable to help my baby when he needed me.

Just like I wasn't able to be there for Ethne.  And now she is gone from this mortal sphere.

After that incident I just started doing the bare minimum.  I quit seeing the therapist, it was just frustrating and emotionally draining to sit and talk to this woman who didn't understand at all and I could never explain my grief to her.  Many of the same people urged us to go to a group for bereaved parents, so we did.  This was better, to be with people who understood better what it felt like to suddenly have your world fall out from under us.  Lawrence noticed the haze creeping in more and more as I avoided callings in church, stopped reading my scriptures regularly, etc.  He shook me awake some, helped me get back into some better habits, and they helped immensely.  But I was still weighed down, blanketed by this haze that wouldn't let me fully engage.  I also got better at hiding it, putting on a good face when people were around, but it was always there, just below the surface, waiting for my facade to come down.

* * *

I don't remember exactly when it happened, but it started some time between Baby J coming home from the NICU and his second surgery.  I was able to stick my head out above the clouds a little at a time, and I liked what I saw.  So I started making more of an effort to keep my head out of my hazy clouds.  I still had snuggle time with Mr. E, because that is something he needs and enjoys, but I wasn't sleeping through it all the time.  I also started getting down on the floor with my boys.  I worked with Baby J as he tried to master rolling and sitting up.  I wrestled with Mr. E.  At first it was hard to hold my head above the clouds for long, and these play times and times of real engagement only happened occasionally, and were short-lived, but I found that, as I did them more, the stronger I became and the easier it was to stay up above the haze.

I can't say that every day is all sunshines and rainbows now, that is definitely not the case, nor do I ever expect it to be.  All I expect of myself is that I keep trying, and the days when I'm not strong enough to ride above the haze I will take and try to be stronger the next.

"Sorrow comes in great waves... but rolls over us, and though it may almost smother us, it leaves us.  And we know that if it is strong, we are stronger, inasmuch as it passes and we remain." ~Henry James, "Letter to Grace Norton" Henry James: Selected letters

I have come to realize that I don't want my boys to grow up thinking of me as their sad Mommy, their barely present Mommy, their sleepy Mommy.  I want them to have memories of playing with me, of happy days spent engaged and involved.  So I will continue to try to hold my head above the haze that is the depression of grief.  It is an every day struggle, and sometimes I lose.

The days that I win often have a lot in common.  They are days when I stay busy.  Days when I don't sit on the couch and watch movies and tv.  To have more winning days I find that I have to start the day engaged, I cook breakfast (sometimes something as simple as oatmeal does the trick, but usually it has to be more), I try keep the tv off much of the day, I exercise, we have family scripture study and prayer, I color with Mr. E, I tickle Baby J, we have picnics and playdates, run errands and do chores.  I have found that keeping busy helps keeps the haze at bay, I can still feel it looming-- it is always there, but being busy and engaged help keep my head up.  I still find time to snuggle Mr. E, it's his favorite part of the day, but I try limit the time spent in mindless pursuits.  I also work hard at reading scriptures daily and having personal prayer, sometimes I am better at it than others, I really do have to work at it.  I am by no means perfect, and it is going to take a lot of time before I get this really figured out, but as long as I recognize what is happening I can find tools to combat the haze of depression.

Little Brother

Dear Baby Brother (I),

Just last week you celebrated your 5th birthday.  You were pretty excited about it and knew just what you wanted... Legos, or more specifically, The Flash legos and super hero legos (I pointed out that they were pretty much the same thing and you rolled your eyes at me).  You were so excited over all your presents, even though the Flash legos weren't among them.

I wonder if you noticed how hard it was for me to watch you do these things that Ethne should have done exactly two months earlier.

I remember well when you joined our family.  You came via foster care and were in sad shape-- your tiny body was bruised and broken, and I am willing to bet that your heart was too.  I was visiting while you stayed in the hospital and Mom spent a lot of time there with you.  Ethne was about 5 months old and was there when you came home.  She was certainly ahead of you in so many ways, but you two seemed to bond as she rolled around and climbed on you while you tried to adapt to your new home.  Then mom broke her toe/foot and we knew that meant you were there to stay, it just took the state a little longer to figure it out.  I watched from afar (mostly) as you healed and grew.




Then we moved to Utah.  That bond that you and Ethne shared in the beginning remained and became stronger as you spent more time together, especially as I student taught and after I went back to work.  You were still behind Ethne, developmentally.  You two were a team against Mom/Grandma-- you'd cause the trouble and Ethne would report.  Those beatings you took as a baby had slowed down your learning and Ethne was running circles around you in verbal skills, gross motor skills, and especially fine motor skills.  She showed you the things she knew, like how to drink from a straw and regular cup, how to use a spoon and fork, and she talked your sweet little ears off.  You watched her carefully, you listened to her stories, and you followed suite (now it's nearly impossible to get you to stop talking).  She was not only your niece, but your best buddy too.  We thought you two would grow up together, be best friends forever, but that was not to be.

I hope that you know that, even though it is sometimes hard for me to see you grow up without her, I love you.  I know that you are meant to complete our family.  You filled a hole that we didn't even really know was there until you had filled it.

I'm so glad Ethne had you there to show her how to get into mischief and make messes.

I'm sorry that she's not around to help you make those messes and to help keep you in check when you try to steal her lunch or do something naughty.

There are days when I just can't muster up the strength to see your smiling face, to count the increasing candles on your birthday cakes, to watch you cross another milestone that Ethne won't get to cross along with you, and days when it is all I can do to not cry as I watch the way you play with Mr. E and Baby J in ways that I imagine she would.  Please forgive me when I can't be there.

I love you, and I think that's why it is sometimes so painful, because I love her too.

Love,
Your big Sister

With Hope

I was talking with a friend recently and she told me about a conversation she had with another of her friends about grief.  They were discussing how long it is ok to grieve after the loss of a loved one, especially children and spouses (the second friend lost her husband two years ago).  Both came to the conclusion that it is ok to grieve for the rest of your life.  The first friend then asked the second how she continues to live her life each day.  The second friend told her that she does it for her kids and for hope.

I have often been asked the very same question, "How do you do it?  How do you live each day after such a great loss?"  Usually I shrug my shoulders, which is really a terrible answer, or rather, not an answer at all.  But then I think that maybe I was so noncommittal about my answer because I didn't really know how I do it myself, or maybe because it has been difficult to put it into words.  But I think I found my words...

"Hope is what guides me, it is what gets me through the day and especially the night.  The hope that after you're gone from my sight it will not be the last time I look upon you."  ~"A Knights Tale"

I was watching this movie and these words really stood out to me because they ring so true.  The friend of my friend is right, I get myself out of bed every day for my boys and for my husband.  They are my motivation every day because they get up and live every day too.  The boys may not feel the loss of Ethne as keenly as Lawrence and I do, but I think they feel it at least a little, but even if they don't feel it at all, they need me, and I need them.  And Lawrence needs us too.  However, there are some days that are harder than others, even with boys that need me and life that is required to be lived, sometimes the thing that pulls me out of bed and gets me going is hope.

It is a hope that nothing but the Gospel of Jesus Christ can give me.  No where else can I find the teachings of eternal family.  No where else can I learn that I will get the chance to not only see Ethne again, but also raise her in a perfect world where she will not suffer temptation.  No where else can I find the peace in the knowledge of a loving Savior who was born to this earth to suffer not only my pains and sicknesses, but also my grief and sadness, and that of those around me, and all mankind, as well.

It is armed with that hope and that knowledge that I am able to "do it."  To get myself out of bed every day, despite a huge hole in my heart and my family, to continue to follow the counsel of the Prophet and other church leaders, and to continue to read my scriptures, pray, and attend the temple.  Because, without that hope, and without that knowledge, none of it would really be worth all the effort.  So instead of giving up I hope and because I hope I can live.

So it is with hope that I go into this new year and face all the really hard days (our 3-year angel-versary, Ethne's birthday, other holidays), because this new year brings renewed hope that I am one more year closer to seeing Ethne again.

A Year in Review

My family never sent out an annual Christmas card, and I've yet to get into the habit.  So instead of mailing out a card I'll just write one here.

Our family has had one heck of a year with a new baby, surgeries, broken bones, and lots of new adventures.  Here's a little of what we've been up to.

This year started out with a scary diagnosis of Hirschprung's Disease for our newest addition, Baby J.  Before the diagnosis we knew nothing of this disease, but now I'd say that we know quite a bit and continue to learn more every day.  Baby J had a surgery to allow his intestines time to heal and his little body time to grow with a colostomy before he was given a pull-through surgery to allow his body to function in a more normal manner.  Since coming home from the NICU Baby J has been growing non-stop.  He is by far our chubbiest baby and we don't mind one bit.  He has such a fun personality!  He enjoys reading, playing, eating, and singing, but (unless he's tired or it's bed time) he isn't a super snuggle bug.  He sports the same red hair and blue eyes as his sister and has been a wonderful addition to our little family.






Mr. E has had a big year too.  This year he passed his sister in age and turned 3 and also got potty trained!  With the addition of Baby J he became a big brother, something he struggled with in the beginning, but is really coming into the roll well now.  He enjoys helping with Baby J, and sometimes tries to be another parent to him.  He has really enjoyed nursery and started going to a preschool group with some other kids in our neighborhood.  He loves school and asks to go every week.  He is looking forward to Sunbeams next year (I can't believe I will finally have a Sunbeam!) and already knows many primary songs.  His best buddies are his uncles, G and I, but he also has friends in preschool and nursery that he likes to play with.  Mr. E loves to swim, play games, read stories, snuggle, and be outside.  He enjoys visiting Ethne at the cemetery, but I think that's mostly because he usually gets to play at the park afterwards.  He loves anything furry, to the point of near abuse, and we wonder why our dog is always so happy to see him in the morning.  This boy sure keeps us on our toes with his quick wit and goofy imagination and we love every minute of it!

Lawrence keeps busy managing a Payless Shoe store.  He also plays with a band, Rythym Junction.  They released a CD this spring (you can find it on Amazon and iTunes) and are currently working on recording another one to be released some time next year.  He also still plays with the community symphony and other free-lance gigs when his schedule allows.  He enjoys his calling as a primary teacher, teaching the 7-8 year-olds and attending their baptisms.




I have had a busy year, keeping up with two crazy boys and our dog.  I started the year with a good number of flute students, but they all fell away during the summer.  At the end of the summer I had a small disagreement with a baby gate and some stairs and broke my right arm--it is healed and I am working on getting full range of motion back, but rest assured that I can play my flute.  When school started back up a local high school teacher recruited me to help with an army of sophomore flute players that descended on his band program this year--17 of them, in one class!  We split them up into two flute choirs and are preparing for their first concert coming up in a couple weeks.  It has been fun to be in a classroom again and working with these talented young women.  I also recently started a new blog of tips and resources for musicians and music teachers.  In October I took on the task of teaching Mr. E's preschool group and hosted a Halloween party for the cute kiddos and their mommies.  Somehow I have lucked-out and both boys take a long afternoon nap at the same time that gives me time to clean, sew, craft, blog, or sometimes even sleep!  I am so grateful for my husband who supports our family so I can be home to raise our boys, I definitely got the better end of that deal.

I am certain that Ethne continues to watch over us.  There are times when I can feel her presence very strongly.  For her birthday this year we invited friends, family, and strangers to participate in 5 acts of service in her memory.  It was a busy day and we could certainly feel the love of Ethne and of others as they participated in our challenge.

It has been a busy and productive year for all of us and we look forward to all the next year will bring.  We hope that you all have a wonderful Christmas and New year!

Tangled

A post or two back I mentioned watching Tangled with Mr. E on Ethne's birthday.  I also mentioned that the end of the movie hit me in a way it hadn't before.

After Ethne passed I tried to avoid certain triggers, including certain movies she loved.  We didn't watch "Despicable Me" for about 8 months after the accident.  I still haven't watched "The Little Mermaid," and it wasn't until a few weeks ago when Mr. E came to me with it in hand did I really sit down and watch "Tangled."  Mostly I sat and snuggled Mr. E while he watched and I distracted myself with games on my phone, Facebook, and other things.  But I really watched it on Ethne's birthday.  We sang along with the songs, we laughed, and I cried.

In the beginning of the story Rapunzel is taken by an old witch who keeps her true identity secret.  When she is taken she is an infant with lots of blonde hair.  Through a series of tests and adventures Rapunzel learns who she really is and finally returns to the anxious arms of her loving parents.  She no longer looks the same as she did when she was a baby.  In the end she has short, brown hair, and is a young woman-- but despite her changed looks, her mother is able to recognize her and embraces her, grateful to have her daughter back in her arms.

Now I am not, in any way, suggesting that I think Ethne has been taken from me in a malicious way, but she is gone from my sight, for a time.  The scriptures and prophets teach that our spirits take the form of our adult selves, only perfected (no scars or flaws, Ether 3:16 and Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Joseph F. Smith [1998], 131–32).  Watching the end of Tangled had me wondering if I will recognize Ethne when I see her again.  Despite suggestions that the Millennium could happen in my life time, I am of the impression that I will pass away before then.  This means that the next time I see Ethne she will be in her spirit form and will therefore be an adult and not the little girl I said goodbye to two and a half years ago.  It made me very sad to think that I might not recognize her.

I thought about it all day on her birthday.  We were so busy serving, loving, and celebrating that I didn't get a chance to talk to Lawrence about it until late that night.  He reminded me what President Ezra Taft Benson said, "Nothing will surprise us more than when we get to heaven and see the Father and realize how well we know Him and how familiar His face is to us.”  Lawrence then told me that he believes it will be the same way with Ethne.

I sure hope so.

I hope that there will be no question for me the next time I see Ethne.  I hope that I will recognize her beautiful smile and be able to embrace her the way Rapunzel's parents do her.  But I do know, that either way, I will be so very grateful to have my Princess in my arms again.

How we celebrate

It may seem odd to those looking in, but we still celebrate Ethne's birthday every year.  It is a day for us to remember her and celebrate all the things we have learned from her short life and since.

I've mentioned that we use it as a day to celebrate our eternal family by attending the temple.  Many are aware of the service challenge we issued this year.  But we also do things Ethne enjoyed, we have cake, balloons, and sing "Happy Birthday."  This year Mr. E and I watched "Tangled," he picked it, he likes the "I Have a Dream" song, and it hit me particularly hard (more on that another time).  Then we all had chocolate toast for lunch.  I try to do something special that she would have liked with her cake, just as I do for my boys.  Last year it was a minion, this year I tried to make a butterfly out of cupcakes.  I also make sure to get a flavor that she would have enjoyed, this year it was red velvet and strawberry cheesecake (they screamed at me from the shelf that they were what Ethne would want).  There is a park next to the Herriman cemetery where Ethne rests, we meet there with any family that can and have cake.    Then we head over to the cemetery, leave balloons and often a small gift at her headstone, blow kisses, and send balloons to her in Heaven.  We also try to have a dinner that Ethne might have requested, after Lawrence and I got home from the temple and the boys were in bed we had one of Ethne's favorites, "cocorn" (popcorn).




Another way we remember is by looking through some of Ethne's special things that we keep in her chest.  Yesterday got a bit busy with service and celebrating so we didn't get to spend the time that we like to spend.  But while we ate our popcorn and Lawrence and I snuggled we did so under Ethne's quilt that Grandma Stone made for her, and hugged her "ephant."  We talked about Ethne and remembered her together.


It really was a wonderful day and I am thankful it was so full of so much goodness.  I know it's a few days late, but happy birthday, Princess!