AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

I have been very emotional today. I've just felt like laying in my bed and crying all day. I miss Ike so much right now, I don't know what else to do. In some weird way, I don't want this year to be over. Its been horrific, but I feel like with the end of 2010, I will have to accept that he is really and truly gone. I mean  I've known that he is, but I have to do it again, in a different way.
I'm learning that acceptance comes in layers. Its like something like this is so big, so huge that if my brain had to comprehend it all at once, I would not be able to bear the weight and go absolutely stark raving mad, so acceptance comes a little bit at a time. It sounds silly, I know, but at least for me, that's the way it has been. I guess in some way, a still fight the acceptance. As if by doing so, I can will him back to life. I don't know. All I know is right now I miss him more than usual. That familiar scream just at the back of my throat has returned. The scream that just wants to scream at everyone and everything. The scream that thinks if it could just be loud enough all of this would dissapear like a bad dream and I would wake up and get Ike up from his nap and go on like nothing ever happened.  This sucks. Its been almost 7 months, but at times it feels like yesterday. It is physical too. A physical pain that is hard to really describe. Its unlike any other physical pain that I have ever experienced. Like in school when you fell from the monkey bars onto your back and for a split second every part of your body hurt and your breathing changed its rhythm. I don't know if that makes sense, but that is what I have felt all day. I don't know. Maybe I'm just repeating myself over and over, but that's what I said I would do in my very first entry. I just want to be through this. I just want to be better, ya know? To feel this way is very hard for me. I miss Ike. I miss Ike. I miss Ike. I miss Ike. I miss Ike.I'm so tired of crying. I'm so tired period. Its not pretty. This whole thing. Some say acceptance is the easiest step. I think they are lying. It is definitely the hardest. To accept that he is gone is almost unbearable. To accept that I will not wake up from this pisses me off. To accept that I sat in a hospital bed for a month, so very very sick only to find him the way I found him, frankly fills me with rage sometimes. And I'm not going to lie, to accept God's providence in the midst of all of this is hard too. I need Him to get through this is one piece. I need Him to keep me focused so that I don't lose it. But there are so many other ways I am struggling right now, that I just want to, and often have, looked up at Him and said "Really? You really want me to deal with this too? You really want me to trust that this is going to make me better? Couldn't there be a better time for this to happen, cause right now really doesn't work for me."  And everytime I am tempted to give up, He reminds of His promises for those that endure. But, in an effort to be real and raw, I must confess that sometimes, like a petulant child, I cross my arms and say "I don't want to endure. Enduring is stupid." I am so glad that God knows my heart. He knows (just as I do) that I must endure. Even in times like this, when my body and mind are screaming at me and I can't breathe. I must endure. I wont lie to you, tho. Its not easy.

I don't really have a title for this one....

Tonight's blog comes from a melancholy, bittersweet place. I am not sure which emotion accurately describes what the last two days have been like. On some level I am relieved to be on the other side of Christmas this year. A part of me wishes I could go back in time to last Christmas when I was 7 months pregnant and the season was so full of hope, expectation and excitement. A part of me is still in shock that I am about to type these words.... all of me is grateful to have made it through without the presence of our 9 month old little boy. I wish I could say I made it through a better, stronger person. A person who feels closer to my Savior than ever before. A person who feels like I can take on the biggest, scariest dragon and defeat it with my bare hands. The truth is, I coming to the end of this Christmas season bloodied, bruised and in desperate pain; crying out to the Lord for some sort of relief. I am not a mighty warrior princess who is standing over her conquest with great delight. I am crawling on my hands and knees, broken and unsure of everything. BUT, I am through it. And I am alive.
To say that I am hopeful right now would be a lie. I have experienced a range of emotions in the last two days. Probably more than most people experience in a year. And now, after it's all said and done, and after I really and truly did make it through what I thought was going to be unbearable, I am left with only one; curiosity. I am curious to see how things will now begin to workout; how the Lord is going to completely heal my fractured mind that replays the events of that morning over and over. I am curious as to how He will resurrect our lives and restore to us all that has been stolen. His Word promises these things, and despite what my feelings or logic or "emotional processing" might tell me, I believe those promises. I am not in denial, I know how things look, but I want to know how things really are, if that makes sense. I want to know what God sees right now. How does He see me? What are His thoughts on how I've handled the last 6 months? What does He expect from me going forward? I am also curious as to how long is this dark cloud going to last? When will I feel better for good? How is He going to turn this around? Initially my next question was going to be, "Can things be turned around?". I deleted that question because I already know the answer. Yes, they can. Even though I my emotions may say otherwise, I know too much to not know the truth behind the answer to that question.
My cursor is blinking at me as if to say, "Okay, what next?" I think that maybe in my heart of hearts, I may be asking the Lord that same question. "What next Lord? Where do I go from here?" And, I really don't know what is next. I don't know what to expect. Even as I type, I don't know the next sentence. Maybe this is what acceptance looks like. I don't know. What I do know is that Christ was born to be my Saviour and I need my Heavenly Father to make it through life no matter what season of my life I'm in. Anything beyond that, I do not have an answer. But, as I said, I am curious.

A New Season

I suppose since this is the 6 month marker of my sweet boy's passing and 2011 is knocking, an entry would be appropriate. I'm not sure of what I'm supposed to say, so I'm just going to rely on the Lord to give me the words as I type. Please excuse me if I am all over the place.
This year, as you know, has sucked. I'm not going to lie. It has sucked. I never ever wish to repeat it, ever. As long as I live. There are many things that have happened that I have not blogged about and that only one or two people know of. Yesterday, had you asked me, I would have said that this year, my life caved in on me. But today I heard Beth Moore say something that I think more accurately describes the year. This year is the year my theology merged with my reality. For a few years now, I've been talking the talk of a good a faithful God. A God that will come through for us no matter what the situation might be. I've read my Scriptures, gone to church and done Bible studies like a good little "Sister Christian". But February 16 turned my life upside down and made me look more closely and objectively at the walking part. And just when I thought I had it down, June 7 came and woke me up to the truth about how I was doing.
For the past 6 months I have tried to bring a face to the grieving mother of a SIDS death. The taboo subject that literally makes people cringe and even some feel as if they need to protect their children from me. I am sure I am not the only mother that has experienced this type of tragedy to feel this way. My goal has been to give people in my situation hope, and someone to relate to. I also wanted to give the friends and family members of the grieving mom an insight to her struggle that is not readily available while you are in the middle of a storm like this. I'm not sure if I've been completely successful at either, but I pray that somehow, someway, I've accomplished those goals, at least in part... See there I go off on a rabbit trail...
Back to my theology meeting my reality. As I've said, I talked a really good talk, and really and truly thought I had the goods to back it up. And maybe I did for where I was on my walk with Him. What I've learned is that I had no clue. No clue, whatsoever. I am just now discovering the depths of Him. Of His faithfulness. Of what He can do. Of what He does do. My theology was that God is good and righteous and wonderful and was there for me no matter what may come.  Before June 7, my reality was entitlement. I am a Christian, therefore I am entitled to such and such. Whenever pain or difficulty came I thought, wait, I am a Christian. I am not supposed to suffer. I'm not supposed to know this side of life. Now, 6 months later, my theology is still the same, but my reality is changing. Now I am learning that His promises are the same in the season of life where everything was going my way as they are when it seemes as if my world is crumbling around me. I am beginning to know that He does not change. I still struggle with entitlement. But one day the Lord asked me, "Would you rather (insert the name of a very very dear friend of mine, which for her sake, I will not do) go through this?" That got me to thinking and frankly rocked my world. Now I can't say that I fully grasp what He meant by that, but I do know that I would not have wished this on anyone. What that question has come to mean to me for the time being, is that He really does have it all worked out already. He had it worked out before it ever happened. Over and over He has said to me, "Amy, just endure. Don't be a hero (which of course made me start singing the Billy Don't be a Hero song, but thats a whole other blog). Just endure. I have it worked out, just endure." Now the type A personality that I have of course led me to look up the word "endure". One definition goes like this:   to regard with acceptance or tolerance. And because I see pictures in my head for definitions, I just see a woman rocking back and forth in the same spot, waiting for the pain to pass. She's not moving, shes not fixing, she's rocking back and forth, crying in agony, waiting for the storm to pass. Now I believe that sometimes that is all God expects of his children. Just to rock back and forth, crying out to Him. In fact I would venture to say that when that kind of pain comes around that is what He wants us to do. Hit our knees. Why? Because that is the place of prayer. That is the place of submission. That is the place when we think we are are our weakest and His Word says that in our weakness His strength is made perfect. And because of that, that is really the most powerful place on earth. I had to accept and I still have to accept many times a day that the pain is there. It is real. It is beginning to dull, but it still leaves me breathless. But as long as I get on my knees, rock back and forth and cry out to Him, it is not going to overtake me.
Thank you for reading my words. Thank you for allowing me to get this out and being patient when its hard to follow. You have no idea how much you help me.
Blessings, my friends! Til next time :)

A New.... well I don't know.....

I committed to myself when I started this blog to be real. You've read the good the bad the ugly all of it. Somehow I have realized that I have stopped blogging the ugly. Somehow thinking that by doing so I would be betraying the Lord and his grace. That if I admitted that there are days (like today) when I am a mess, it would mean that the freedom I have experienced was a lie. And if that freedom was a lie based on an emotional state of being at the time, I would be, by default, lying to those of you who read this. I see now, that that is absolutely ridiculous. There are days, like today when I just don't know if I can handle taking another breath because the action of breathing is so painful. But that doesn't mean I am not free. I have been waiting to "feel better" to post another blog. Waiting for my breakthrough. Worrying about me. Thinking only of me. Then I suddenly realized that through my blog, God provides breakthrough, but not just for me, for those to whom He chooses to speak through my words. If I am not blogging everything, I am not allowing Him to do what He designed this blog for; give validation and hope to those who are suffering so immensly that they cannot see God in it and on the other side of it. Hope and healing only come through transparency. The Word says that we are strengthened by each other's testimony. I looked up the word testimony. One of the definitions is "acknowledgment of fact". So here we go guys, the facts about this process as they are right now for me. The fact is that right now I am typing through tears running so quickly down my face, I can barely see the computer screen. I hurt right now. I ache for my son. I miss him. I am devastated by his loss. The grief is so thick right now, I really can't imagine that things will ever be any different. I am so desperate for relief, for validation, for someone to come alongside me and tell me what to do next. I need proof that things will not always be this way. I need a bouy. I need for this mountain to move. The Word says that we are pressed but not crushed and I fully believe that. I think it important though for me as believer to be real and admit that this pressing is brutally painful right now. I've heard some call this feeling a wilderness experience. The Isrealites on the way to Canaan, became frightened and wanted to turn back so badly they fashioned an Egyptian god and began to worship it. i know what that temptation is like now. Mine may not look like a golden calf, but I am frustrated because right now I feel like I want to run and hide in the familiar things, but I am too free to do so. I know too much. Even still the temptation to do all of things will ultimately bring destruction is strong. I know that God is leading me, but I am scared. I am scared I am scared I am scared. I, at this moment, like the Israelites, just want to get to whatever it is God has promised, or turn around and run the other direction. Anything other than having this grief roar at me like this. I am angry that I cannot just be in the promised land. I am hurting so badly right now that I am finding it so very hard to be happy for all of the joy my friends are experiencing in their lives. And I mad at myself because of that. I am fighting the urge to isolate myself and push every who loves me and everyone whom I love away from me. Just to silence the roar. Anything to silence the roar and not have to face this process. I am angry that this is part of the process. That I just have to accept this, for a season. I don't want to accept it, I want it to be over. I want to pretend like it doesn't exist. God has said that there is much to be learned and many many breathroughs in the wilderness, but it is so painful here right now. And expansive. It seems to just go on forever and ever. I miss my son. I know where he is and how happy he is, so I do not wish him back like I used to, but I miss him. My dear God in heaven, I miss him. And it hurts.

A New New

Its been a while since my last post, but there has been so much healing since then. I posted on my FB status that I am amazed at how quickly God works when He sets out to heal his beloved. I have learned that I have to really and truly allow Him to search my heart and break some stuff off. Sometimes the "breaking of the stuff" hurts so much it seems as though crazy comes knocking, but oh the joy when its finally off! I have spent the last few months feeling very detached from Him. At the worse possible time, too. As I look back tho, I see Him in every step. I want to say this... at the end of this post I have included just a very short snapshot of the morning of Ike's death for one purpose only. Until now, except to just a few people, the details of that morning have remained under wraps. I am only revealing some of them now to give you an idea of what I mean when I say that God really and truly does heal people's minds of horrific events and images. There is nothing too big for Him.
I am not sure what is different from now and even a week and a half ago, but something has drastically changed. So drastically in fact, that I have asked myself, my therapist and the Lord whether this is difference is real or just an illusion. I am nearly off of all anti-anxiety meds and have found this feeling of hope unlike anything I have ever experienced. I know what I am made of now. I know for certain that NOTHING can seperate me from the love of God. Not even the most devastating of circumstances. I am truly my Father's beloved child.
I won't lie, there were times that I thought I was surely going to die of despair and sorrow. That God had somehow forgotten me in my most desperate hour. I was angry- no, I was pissed off- at Him. I beat on His chest and demanded that He tell me why. I even thought that maybe He was purposely leaving me, just to see if I would chase Him down. But the truth is, He never left. He held me while I cried. He stood like a rock while I beat Him up and comforted me when I was so weak from the rage I could barely breathe. And He has taught me so much.
The reason there are certain Scripture that is considered to be cliche by some is because they are true. Romans 8:38-40 says: "For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Y'all, I'm here to say its true. I have experienced all of these. Life, death, hell, the unknown, the highest of highs and lowest of lows and everything in between, and guess what; God is STILL awesomer. He loves me no matter where I am. His passion for me superceded the life of His Son. I know what it is like to lose a son. It sucks. Out of all the things I have had to deal with, the death of Ike is easily the most torn up I have ever been. And the closest to crazy I have ever been driven. I think about that and then think, I let my son go because I had to. God gave His, willingly, for me. A sinner. A person who beats on his chest and spat on Him. Someone who questions his authority when things get hard. Jesus never did those things, and yet God still traded Him for me. Grief is hard, and yet God is still there. He is still there. Even when I wanted to push Him so far away from me, I couldn't do it. NOTHING, not the death of my son, or the circumstances surrounding  it, can seperate me from my Father. Nothing. Period. End of story. No matter what my emotions said, He is still here.
There is still so much to say, but I really have to go. I think I will have to break this up into parts. I want to share with you all I've learned because I have determined that that is the purpose for my life. To share with others the truth of God's character and the power of His Word.
So I really don't want to end this post, but I must... just for now.
Be blessed.

I found Ike dead in his crib at five am on June 7th. I went in to wake him up while his bottle was warming. Before he died, he had somehow rolled himself over then passed in his sleep. By the time I went in and rolled him back over, he had been gone for some time. His body had gone into rigor mortis and was swollen and cold. His eyes were closed and his lips were not blue. It took me a couple of days to remember that, but once I did, I  knew he had not suffocated (an autopsy later confirmed that it was SIDS). I was by myself. Josh was out of town and when I went to call 911, my phone battery was dead as well. I spent approximately 15 - 20 minutes giving him CPR while I waited for my phone to charge and then continued with the operator's instructions once I was able to call them. It took them about 10 minutes or so to get to my house.

Ike's Story

I think its time for Ike's back story. I don't know why, but I sense as if the enemy is trying to torture me with for a few days now. I think its time to bring it to the light so that it cannot be used against me anymore...Here we go... You see, I struggled each pregnancy with a very deadly, very rare disease called HELLP Syndrome. In each of my pregnancies I became very very sick and really and truly came within an inch of death with my Jerahmiah (my first born). But even though perhaps we should have been, we were not scared of this dreadful disease returning when we found out Ike was on the way. With all of my other children my life was very stressful. As many of you know, my exusband was not the nicest of men, to say the least and made life very difficult for me even when I was pregnant with Madeline. (My boys are from my first marriage, but Josh and I had Madeline together). So anyway life had finally sttled down when Ike came a long and I just knew things were going to be different. Not only because outside circumstances had changed, but also because I knew the healing power of God and when I felt symptoms coming on I would cast them down and confess healing to my body. Then February 1st I woke up from a nap feeling awful. I had a fever and was throwing up. Although I remained sick for two weeks I refused to concede to the notion that HELLP was once again taking over my body. Finally on February 16, after three days of nonstop vomiting and a headache so painful it surpassed any migraine, I received a phone call from my doctor. My sugars were high and they wanted me to come in and take another glucose test. I told them tht I probably would not be able to keep it down as I had been vomitting for nonstop for three days. They told me to go straiht to the ER, do not pass go, do not collect 200 hundred dollars... Straight there and in a hurry. I needed fluids. My body was in severe dehydration. Now those of you who are reading this and are thinking, "You silly girl... A history of HELLP and two weeks of severe ilnness, why didn't you go?" Well, looking back, I agree with you. But at the time, I just thought it was the flu, and what could they do for me that I couldn't do for myself at home? When I arrived at the hospital, I was still in the thought process of flu. I would get fluids, maybe some phenergren (sp?), something for my head and then be sent home to rest and wait it out. As soon as I got back to a room, and saw the look on the nurse's face, I knew something was really really wrong. She tried to start an IV, but could not. My veins were so weak they could not support even the smallest of "tubes". I was given a pretty strong dose of phenergren and after about 45 minutes, they found a vein and began to pump fluid into my body as quickly as they could. Even that made me dry heave. They tried Tylenol 4 for my head, but ended up having to give me morphine because the pain just became unbearable. I was admitted almost instantly for observation. I don't remember much about that first day. I know my doctor came in with two other doctors and they told me I was sick. The sickest they'd ever seen. They were shocked to know that I drove myself to the hospital earlier that day. But the biggest thing I remember is they could not tell me what was wrong with me. I did not test positive for the flu. All of my organs were functioning properly, well accpet my liver. But not even my liver was functioning badly enough to make me as sick as I was. My billirubin count was up, but that was the only concrete thing. My bloodwork was a mess, but did not point to anything specific. Medically speaking there was no reason for me to be in the state that I was in, yet when one of those doctors would look at me I could see the worry and fear in their eyes. I woke up the next morning and my OB decided that it was vital that I begin a series of steroid treatments to mature Ike's lungs quickly. I was four or five days shy of 30 weeks. A babys lungs are present, but do not begin to mature until the last four weeks of pregnancy. We needed to do the shots and buy as much time as possible for Ike. We were literally taking things one day at a time. Always prepared for that day to be the day of his birth. We spoke to specialist after specialist. All of them said there was nothing they could do to help. A few days after my admission, we spoke to the head of the NICU. She said that despite my health, Ike was fine and if he needed to come he would start out having to fight but by the time he was in Kindergarten, you would not be able to tell him apart from any other child. -----That was a difficult thing to type. I forgot about that statement and now it seems so.... so.... stupid.----- Anyhow, after about two and a half weeks things started looking up. I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes, but my liver counts that been rising since I was admitted had now begun to fall. Every vein in my arms had blown out causing massive black bruises, but they had put in what is called a PICC line, basically, a semi-permanent port that went straight into my arm and down into my aorta. With this, they could hook up IVs and draw blood without putting a single needle in my arm. Ike was cooking up beautifully and we were even talking about the possibility of going home. Then, one Saturday, my headache returned with a vengeance. My liver counts shot up higher than they had ever been and with each day I became worse and worse. Eating was impossible. I had eventually lost even the instinct of finding nourishment. Walking from my bed to the chair was exhausting. I tried to smile and laugh, but could not sincerely do so. On the morning of March 12 my doctor came in and said it was time. My liver was showing signs of damage and my bloodwork was awful. We prepared for Ike's arrival. Those who have Csections kn ow that in most cases only a local anesthetic is done, numbing the mom from the waist down. Right as I was being prepped for that, the doctor literally came running down the hallway, calling out "Stop doing the local!!" I could hear his feet hit the floor as he ran into the OR and began to somewhat frantically explain that my so and so count was so low, that if they stuck a needle into my back it would cause a hematoma and I would bleed to death right there on the table before they ever got the baby out. He then starts the process of administering the general and the nurse began to put in a catheter. I was screaming and crying, it hurt so bad. I woke up a few hours later, back in my room. Ike was born at 10:37 am on March 12. I did not get to see him for the first 24 hours of his life because I was hooked up to magnesium and some antibiotics that had to be consitently flowing through my body for 24 hours and I had to sit still while they did so. When I finally did get to see him, he was this tiny little boy. He was also hooked up to the CPAP machine which made him appear even tinier. I could not pick him up. I could not move him. All I could do was hold his tiny tiny hand in mine. This went on for five days. I did not hold my baby until he was 6 days old, and even then it was cumbersome and I could only hold him for a few minutes. He was still on the CPAP, so we had to manuever around the machine. It was one of the most glorious few minutes of my life. On the really really hard days, I close my eyes and think about those few minutes. I imagine that the emotions I experienced in that moment next to his "incubator" are just a taste of what it will be like to when I can hold him once again in heaven. For about a week and a half I watched that brave boy fight back against his circumstances. People call it "wimpy white boy syndrome" as caucasian males have the hardest time being weaned off of the CPAP. I beg to differ. I saw his strength amidst impossible circumstances. I saw each of those babies in that NICU fight like hell to stay alive. It took a little time, but he was off the CPAP and a week or so later he was ready to come home. On his last day I asked the nurses in the NICU how long they had been expecting him to be there. They said at least a month. He was there two weeks and a day and a half. When we got home, he just took off. It usually takes a preemie of his kind to about a month or so gain back their birthweight and up to six months to become a little dot on the growth chart. It took Ike 6 weeks to acheive dot status. He loved his food. When he ate he would coo and grunt and grip the bottle and look at me like "Lady, if you take this bottle out of my mouth, we will not be friends". And when I would have to take it out to burp, oh my the tantrum that would follow. He loved his food. He loved his bubbas and sissy too. He would watch them so intently. Every move they made was the most spectacular thing to him. and I think the jumpy jumpy game may have been a little competetive. Like, he was saying to them "You think you can do cool stuff? Well watch THIS!" I miss that sweet boy. His death still hits me right in the gut sometimes. I even still catch myself wanting to go check on him, as if he is napping. And sometimes, it seems like a lifetime ago that that sweet little boy was fussing at me for burping him. Maybe it seems that way because as I have said before my family and I have been so radically changed by his passing. Thank you for letting me get that off of my chest. My prayer is that now that it is out there, the enemy can no longer use it against me. And that it will help someone else who has difficult choices to make about the next steps of their life. Please know that Ike's prematurity had nothing to do with his death. As I have said before, he was a bouncing healthy baby boy. He blew his pediatrician away at each visit. SIDS is an awful thing. It has no bias, no conscience. It is the work of the enemy. It is the very essence of evil.
Ah geez, I'm sitting here bawling my eyes out. I miss him so much. Typing this was a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. Once again, thank you for reading my random thoughts.
Blessings... Amy

Ramblings....

Well, it seems life really and truly does move along, even if some days feel like it does so at a snails pace. I have been struggling with a lot of frustration lately. I realized not too long ago that a year ago today we were just about to find out that Ike was on the way. I remember the posting on Facebook... First it was "Its getting time to buy new jeans, only a size smaller" ( I had lost about 20 pounds) and a few hours later I posted "is due in April!!". The response to that post was overwhelming. I think in fact a friend of mine posted that I had officially received the most posted comments she had ever seen... Now here I am one week away from Ike's 6 month birthday and all I have left of him are pictures and a blanket that we call his "friend".  I think back to that girl that was so excited about a new baby on the way and long to hold onto her. To even be her again, sometimes. In reality tho, I can no longer identify with her anymore. Not even remotely.  Thats the hardest part of all of this. I feel as tho I will never be that carefree, silly girl ever again. I have grown up; in ways I never wanted to. Someone said to me not too long ago that there seems to be an ever present sadness to my eyes now. I never wanted to be that person. Those of you who have known me for a long time, know that I can be so bubbly that I'm almost too much to take in sometimes (yes, its okay to agree. I can own that part of me :) ). Those of you who have only seen the last five years of me, and think differently, well all I can say to that is ask the ones who have known me for a long long time and they will tell you. the Lord had healed so many wounds that covered over with a smile in the last five years and that can get really ugly sometimes. Anyhow, I never wanted to be that girl. the girl that has the sadness to her countenance. The girl that cries at the drop of a hat. The girl that emanates a broken heart. I never wanted to be her. The reality is tho, my heart is broken. My eyes do reflect a deep deep sadness. And honestly, it sucks. But its real. I know that joy comes in the morning. I know that God gives beauty for ashes. I know that He can do more than I can ever even imagine and trust I am expecting those things. For now, tho, I feel like I am that girl. I guess thats part of it. Even the Word says that the Lord shows favor upon a contrite spirit and a broken heart. So, it is what it is, I guess.
There are some things that I am coming to appreciate about who I am now. There is an urgency that I have never experienced. An urgency of life. That it slips away so quickly and yet it is wasted so easily. I don't feel the need to have people in my life who either waste my time or theirs. I want only positivity. That is something I have always wanted, but I always thought that it was "Christianly" to have people who are consistently complaining or cynical around and be patient with them. That that was what having grace with others meant. I know now that that was totally wrong thinking. I am free to pick those who are in my circle, not just let anyone and everyone in. And I'm not a bad person if I don't include everyone all of the time. I like that. Its liberating.  Its okay to let the dishes go while I play video games or have a tea party or be silly with my children. If someone comes over unaanounced and sees dirty dishes and gets offended, well they should have called first. Its okay to rest. Its okay to put down the facade and be real.
I have seen, up close and personal, the very essence of life. The vulnerability of it. Its fragility.
I have seen the absolute worst of it. I have tried to breathe life back into existence with my own breath. I have wept my guts out because I could not. And I have buried one of my children and sent him back to Heaven even though he showed no sign before or after his death that his journey here on earth would come to such an abrupt end. I have also seen the beauty of Life. The strength that can be found there. And, even now I can say with all certainty that nothing else matters. I have held my sweet sweet children as they have mourned their brother. I have watched them take care of each other and me in the midst of their grief. I wake up every day and hear them laugh. I hear them minister to other little guys their age. I listen to their stories and watch their faces light up when they make a new friend. I am in awe of life now. I like that too.
Perhaps it is so difficult for those who mourn to say what they need/want to say because there is so much to say. There are so many emotions and they change so rapidly. One minute I'm pissed, then the next I'm content. Contentment can turn into utter despair and utter despair can lead to joy. Sometimes all of these can happen in about five minutes, yet sometimes just one of these can last for days or weeks. Perhaps that is why the friends and families of the mourners don't know what to do or say; so many many times, they don't do or say anything.
Well, I sense that tonight's blog has come to its end. I should probably go to bed. Good night y'all. Be blessed.
  

A New Strategy

Well, I'm not sure exactly what tonight's blog is about. I do know that I feel the need to do so, so please be patient as I wait on the Lord....

It has been a rough day in a very glorious sort of way. Today I have learned that when things are ugly and confusing and chaotic and we feel that the enemy is throwing a carnival of horrors right in the middle of our life, he is actually at his weakest... Now, I don't want to try to make any kind of new doctrine, and I definitely don't want to speak against the Word, but I feel like the Lord showed me something today. The Word reminds us again and again that we have power of the enemy. That we have the ability to control our thoughts and more importantly our emotions. But what happens when the the stuff hits the fan? Our emotions get going and we become agitated, depressed, sad, etc... then our thought life is affected and then we are a mess. And I don't know about you guys, but for me it always seems as if its right after some huge victory or just before a major breakthrough or even just as simple as life has finally settled down. I have heard it said that it is that way because Satan is angry that we are becoming more and more free with each victory or breakthrough. I don't doubt that... But today the Lord showed me something else. What if the enemy's carnivals are really him throwing a temper tantrum and if I could get my emotions and thoughts under control I can take a look around and see many of the very specific weapons he is currently using against me?  I could see his battle plan all laid out, right there in front of me. You see, as I look back over the last few weeks, I have realized that he has completely over-played his hand. Now that I am doing my best everyday to hang on to this new viewpoint and staying out of emotional torture and unpredictability, I can more clearly see him and his weapons for
exactly what they are. Most of them I can call by name; some well known, some not so much... depression, confusion, rage, anger, hatred, betrayal, disloyalty, arrogance, pride, chaos, laziness, disgust, self pity, sadness, madness (as in the crazy in the head kind), exhaustion, blame, witchcraft (which I have learned a truckload about in the last few days, and its not only what we typically think of when we hear that word), poverty (which has less to do with money and more to do to with a state of mind), hysteria, mistrust, nagging, etc. I am sure there are more, but those are the ones that the Lord has directed me to call out right now. You see if I stay in a hysterical emotional state while the enemy throws his party and rides his rides, I am so focused on how I feel, I miss out on seeing his battle plan. I think that is why it is so crucial to take captive each thought and to harness each emotion and hold it up to the Word. Now, once again please don't misundertand, I'm not saying that its easy. And I do believe that grief (for a time) and most other emotions are seasons completely ordained by God. What I believe my challenge is right now is to learn the weapons while Satan is so exposed.
I mean think about it... If you are in a paintball fight, isn't much easier to win if you know the opposing teams strategy? If you could somehow get in the back of the huddle without anyone seeing you, kicking their tush would be a breeze. You could find out which player is strongest at which point, which weapons they are using, who is covering who, etc. You could also run around pulling the trigger 1000 times, but never hit one person because you're so blinded about your own excitement and adrenaline that you can't see whats right in front of you. Then boom... one hit and your out.
Now I realize in paintball the strategy of the opposing team is a well kept secret, but folks, I'm here to tell you that Satan's not that smart. He is not omnipotent or omniscient. He knows as much about what is going to happen tomorrow as I do, maybe even less. In the middle of a mess, he expects me to get all emotional and flustered and what have you, so thats what he is looking for; me running around pulling the emotional trigger 1000 times. But if I choose to remain calm and focused and go in the back way (act in the exact opposite of the what he's expecting), I confuse him. I can then see behind all the smoke and mirrors, see his strategy and TAKE HIM OUT...
As I said, I am not looking to make new doctrine and if I spoken against the Word of God, I beg of you, please correct me. This was just something cool I am sure the Lord taught me today....
Well, its late, and I need some sleep... Til next time, be blessed...

Be Still and Know

Last night I had the most wonderful opportunity to go out with a couple of the most wonderful women you will ever meet. We went to see Eat Pray Love. Well, I thought we were just going out for some good laughs, and although there were lots and lots of those, there was something else too. You see, I believe that the Lord can and will use anything He wants to teach us and bring us closer to Him. That was how He used the almost total stranger the other night and I believe that that is how He used our adventures last night as well. Before the movie we went to a restaurant just to spend some time chatting. One of my dear friends opened up about what an awful week she'd had and how much she really needed some time with us. We sat and talked and cried together and laughed our faces off too. In that moment I realized, this is what the Lord means by fellowship... He wants us to enjoy the presence of each other. He wants us to just sit together and open up our hearts to one another. We don't always have to be in deep theological conversation or all "Sister Spiritual". We can just sit and talk about our day, letting the tears and laughter flow, helping one another by just being there.
So, we get to the movie theatre, still giggling like crazy and the movie begins. Immediately, I connected with the movie. It was like the Lord was showing me my life. In the beginning Julia Robert's character says something like "I had participated in creating every single moment of my life, and yet I'm not really in it." I thought, "Okay, Lord. I am finally listening." For the next two and a half hours I watched as my life unfolded on the screen. Well, I've never been to Bali or Rome or any other fabulous country; but I have been on a quest to find out how exactly I made it to this point. Passionless, hopeless, wanting something to just take my breath away and wanting learn how to marvel at anything and everything the Lord has created. 
(Now many of you may say, "Amy, the last few months have been hard, so cut yourself some slack..." Friends, I have been this way for a very long time. I am just very good at hiding it.) All this time, I have just accepted that this is just how life is, and I have lived it accordingly. Since the Ike's passing though, I have realized that living this way is no longer an option.
Anyhow, back to the movie... As this woman goes on about her journey, I see each wrong turn I have taken. Each time I have allowed what was just mediocre to be acceptable. How I have sacrificed what may be something that brings joy and laughter to my life for the familiar that is keeping me stifled. So many times, I refused what the Lord was trying to give me out of the fear of the unknown. I have lived life on others' terms, always looking for the next thing to prove that I am worthy... But, I have never just been still. I have never just been quiet. I have never just given myself the opportunity to be Amy. More importantly, I have never given the Lord the opportunity to just be Him. I have never just worshipped Him for who He is and how much He loves me. I realize that now. I have mistaken ambition and constantly moving forward for doing His work. But the word says, "Be STILL and KNOW that I AM God." Everything else must stem from that.
I am not sure if any of this makes sense, and I realize I may be rambling, but as I've said before, there ya have it...       

A New Point of View

Last night I was given some very good advice. As many of you know the last few weeks have just been unbearable. Out of desperation for relief I followed the Lord and approached a virtual total stranger. I began to tell them what happened and how I have been feeling what must be very very close to emotional torture. This person asked me if I thought my feelings were of God. It took me a minute to catch on to what they meant, but then I realized; my feelings were not. God is peace and joy and love and everything other wonderful thing we can imagine. His Word says that we can experience those feelings in ANY circumstance. So then I said, "but you don't get it, my son was taken from me". And very firmly this person looked me in the eye and said, "My friend, you don't get it. You can turn this around. You feel your son has been taken from you, and I'm not saying that those feelings don't make sense. What I am saying is that you can now choose to let him go. There is not one thing in this life that can be taken from you if you choose to let it go." They also reminded me that Ike is with Jesus. As a mother, we all want the best for our children.Well, what could be better than skipping rocks with Jesus in heaven? He will never know the heartaches of this world. He will never know pain or dissapointment. He will only know peace and love and joy and most of all, he knows the Savior, up close and personal. As his mother, what more could I ask for? They said that now, I have a choice to make. I can hold onto this emotional torture and cry everyday all day. I can be totally self-centered and full of my pain. And rightfully so. But will that bring Ike back? Will it help my surviving children? They pointed out that there is nothing I can do about what happened two and a half months ago. But I can do something about right now. I can choose to let my son go for a time. I can sow him to the Lord. And I can expect a king size knock my socks off harvest. When I do that it no longer becomes about what I lost, but about what we are gaining; about what Ike has already gained. Suddenly, there are options. The tiny box of grief goes away, and the world is at my feet. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying this switch of point of view is easy. But frankly, nothing about this is easy. The way I've been going had left me crippled and ineffective, so why not try this new way and see how it works? It can't be any worse than the old way.

So, my sweet sweet Ike... I choose to let you go until we are joined again in heaven. I send you on your way my love and rejoice in the fact that you are skipping rocks with Jesus. I will miss you and am looking forward to seeing you again, but until then (and even then) I am giving you back to Him. I love you, son.
And Lord, I repent. I choose to let go of the pain and the sorrow. I choose to walk out of this box and into this new life. And I expect a harvest, Lord. A harvest unlike anything I can even think to ask. That is what You have said in your Word, and I am counting on that, Lord. I am believing You and holding You to your promises. And when I am tempted to look back, keep me focused Lord. Remind me of who You are and who I am in You. In Jesus Name.     

Another day is this strange land

Well, it is official... My butt is kicked. I am tired and weak and at this point really feeling like I have had the crap kicked out of me. I am clinging to the Word... "For I know the plans I have for you, for hope and a future." (paraphrased); "I am more than a conqueror through Christ that gives me strength."; "The Lord will fight for you and you shall keep your peace."

Well, it seems this post is going to take a very different turn... In my last post, I asked the question, which at the time I thought was rhetorical, "How did this become my life?". I have come to realize that altho' I thought I was just venting, maybe that question is truly THE question that I need to answer... How did this become my life? Well, folks, the ugly truth is, I let it. Of course, losing Ike was something I had no control over, but everything else that I have faced in my adult life are a culmination of a lot of really bad choices that I have made. I have been saying "well, if so and so would do such and such, then I would not do this or that." I have been lying to myself. The truth is, I have been using the betrayal that I've felt from others as a get out of jail free card for my own poor choices and bad behavior. I have been justifying my unwillingness to let those who love me really and truly be there for me. I have expected certain people to never let me down. And when they do, I let myself become a victim to their stuff. I have blamed and shamed and pointed fingers, always blind to the three that have been pointing back at me all along. I have given my power away.

Hmmm... this is not an easy thing to admit in a public forum, but I feel the Lord has called me to this blog "for such a time as this". So, here it is y'all. The good the bad and the ugly. Now I must go into my "secret closet" and let the Lord fill the empty place that this admission has left. Until next time... Blessings, my friends.

Trying out this blog thing

Well, I have decided to jump on the blog bandwagon and see where it takes me. The reason I have started blogging, you ask... Well, I guess it all started 2 months and one week ago when I found my two month old baby boy dead in his crib while my husband was out of town. I am now faced with living life without the absolute bliss of shock and figuring out how to be normal in the most abnormal of circumstances. I do not want anyone to feel sorry for me and am careful about using up too many people's time repeating myself over and over. So, blogging it is. I must get this out and it looks like I must say the same things out loud a lot, so we will see if blogging helps. As each day goes by I try harder and harder to find the light, but seem to only find more confusion and despair. Those who know me, know that I have a deep and intense love for God. I say that because at this moment I want to acknowledge that just because I may not be able to find Him, I do know He is there. Right now tho, I seem to be struggling with depression and despair. I am told that it is part of the process and that it will pass, but I want it to pass now. I am not someone who operates well like this. I have thought many many times and especially in the last few days that this cannot possibly be my life now. How did it get here? Why did it come to this? Nothing eases the pain, in fact even breathing serves only to intesify it. How did this become my life? How did this become my life? I don't understand it. I am 28 years old. I'm in the prime of my life right now... This should be a time of celebrations and discovering the real me and raising my children and meeting all kinds of amazing people... Thats is what I should be doing now. Not mourning the loss of a perfectly healthy baby boy. I just keep thinking... "I put him to bed healthy". I know I did. His pediatrician was amazed by his growth (Ike's backstory will just have to wait for another post). June 6 he was a literally bouncing baby boy who was so proud of himself because he could "jump" on my lap. He was cooing and laughing and dare I say winking at me... At two months old he was doing these things. Now he's gone. June 7 I woke up to begin a new life in the worst of nightmares.... How did this happen? Not even the medical examiner knows what happened to him. Its been ruled a SIDS case... So there was nothing in his body that was awry... We didn't miss some secret illness... He just died. How can that be? Oh God, please tell me... How can that be? And now, i am trapped in this box of grief. This tiny tiny box of grief. It is suffocating sometimes. I miss my baby. I want to hold him. I want to see that sweet little wink. I want to smell his hair. I want to hear his sweet little cooes and watch his face go from a look of absolute determination as he prepares to "jumpy jumpy" to one of complete joy once he completes his feat. I didn't know pain like this existed... It is constant and there is never a reprieve. Not even the slightest of dull ache moments. Just pain and pain and pain. I look at my surviving children and think about how much I am failing them because I cannot get myself together. They deserve a whole person and I really want the to be that for them... but the pain cuts me in half. I am looking forward to the acceptance even phase even tho it feels right now like I will never get there. I am looking forward to a happy life. People promise me that there is one after somethng like this... I can't see it, but I will believe them until I can....