Alone Yet Not Alone

I opened the mailbox yesterday and found a letter waiting for me from my dear friend and roommate from Ellerslie, Bonnie (I have written about our friendship HERE). I always look forward to getting mail from her. She is too sweet. Anyways, when I opened her letter, I was so touched to see it was about Lily's birthday. It means a lot to me that she remembered and thought to write me and encourage me during a very difficult time of year. Sometimes all it takes is just a note to say, "I remember her with you... I miss her with you... I love her with you." That does more for my heart than people could ever realize.

I have shared her precious letter below. The song is so beautiful and uplifting to me. My mom played it for me recently. Joni Eareckson Tada is an amazing woman of faith with an incredible testimony and someone I look up to. I am reminded that though I feel alone at times without my girl, I am never really alone... the Lord is with me always.

Dearest Hannah Rose,

I know that this month is especially hard knowing that your sweet Lily would be 4. If I have one big encouragement to you this month it would be the song, "Alone Yet Not Alone," by Joni Eareckson Tada. You should type up the song on YouTube because Joni has one of the most beautiful voices I've ever heard. I didn't know she had such a beautiful voice. Here are the lyrics to the song and I pray that they are encouraging to you this month.

Listen to "Alone Yet Not Alone" below or by clicking HERE

Alone Yet Not Alone

by Joni Eareckson Tada

I'm alone yet not alone

God's the light that will guide me home

With His love and tenderness,

Leading through the wilderness.

And wherever I may roam,

I'm alone yet not alone.

I will not be bent in fear

He's the refuge I know is near.

In His strength I find my own.

By His faithful mercies shown.

That so mighty is His shield.

All His love is now revealed.

When my steps are lost

And desperate for a guide.

I can feel His touch,

A soothing presence by my side

Alone yet not alone.

Not forsaken when on my own.

I can lean upon His arm,

And be lifted up from harm.

If I stumble or if I'm thrown,

I'm alone yet not alone.

When my steps are lost

And desperate for a guide,

I can feel His touch,

A soothing presence by my side.

By my side!

He has bound me with His love,

Watchful angels look from above.

Every evil can be brayed,

For I know I will be saved.

Never frightened on my own,

I'm alone yet not alone.

I'm alone yet not alone.

My dearest Hannah Rose, your sweet precious 4-year-old is dancing with our Lord and Savior. He is reading children's books to her and she is dressed like a princess. She is safe in the arms of Jesus! I know it hurts to not have her with you on this temporary home where we live right now, but someday we all will be sitting at the feet of Jesus and will be dancing before Him. But for now we need to honor Him and enjoy Him forever. I love you my sweet beautiful friend! I wish you were closer, but for now, I'm praying for you and thinking of you.

Yours truly,
Bonnie Lynn

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Our March 16, 2010 Babes

One of my good friends from high-school is named Kristen. We became friends when we were in the spring musical together our junior year and ended up going to prom together, along with my friend Rachel. This photo was taken of Kristen and I before prom - she was 17 and I was 16 (so 8 years ago this spring). Kristen's mom took a photo of the photo and shared it on Facebook.

Out of all the days, months, and years to have a baby, Kristen and I both had our babies on the exact same day - March 16, 2010! We were out of touch for a few years, so when I first heard this, I could not believe it. 

Kristen had a little boy, whose name also starts with an "L." If he had been a girl, I'm sure it would be harder for me to see photos of him growing up. It is odd though still to see photos and to know Lily would be the exact same age that he is. Maybe one day I will meet him. I'm sure if I do, thoughts of my girl will flood my heart and mind.

What a different day we had on March 16, 2010. The day could have been the day we both welcomed our healthy, full-term babies into the world. Yet, her day was as one would expect a birthday to be: full of joy and celebration, leading to a baby going home from the hospital to friends and family, eagerly waiting to meet him for the first time. And my day was filled with the most profound joy tinged with the deepest sorrow, leading to an empty car-seat on that hospital trip home and family and friends who said hello and goodbye in one breath, if they got to meet my baby girl at all before she was put to rest forever beneath the Virginia earth. For both of us, March 16, 2010 will always hold the memory of giving birth to our first-born babies, oh but what different memories we hold. How different each March 16 is for both of us from now on. The day could have been the day we'd celebrate each year with a cake and candles to be blown out by a child bigger than the year before. But, I celebrate with a cake for a little girl who will always stay a baby and will never blow out her own birthday candles.

Not only did Kristen and I have our babies on the same day, but we also had our baby showers on the exact same day - February 13, 2010!

Looking at that photo of us in high-school, I can't help but think about how we had no idea we would both have babies on the exact same day. I can't help but think of how carefree I was and how I never could have dreamed I'd one day (less than four years later) lose my baby before she took her first breath. Of course I would never, ever wish for anyone to know the pain of losing a child, but I can't help but wonder, why did it happen to me? I know deep down that God was in control and He has graciously allowed me to see some of the reasons. But I am a mere human, a mother, who has part of her heart in Heaven and will in a way always wonder why it had to happen to me.

Click HERE to read all my "Similarity Stories."

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What's Mine is Yours

There is a song I heard last year that I was recently thinking of again and realized I never shared it here. It is called "What's Mine is Yours" by Katherine Nelson (she shares my girl's middle name). The song really touches on many things from stillbirth to adoption to unplanned pregnancy... so many things that are close to my heart.

When I first heard the song and saw the video, I was amazed at how it tells the story of both my dear friend Bex and I. The first part of the song is about a woman who loses her baby like I did... all the excitement and plans for a new baby then your world crumbling as the doctor tells you your baby's heart has stopped beating, but "you're young, there'll be others" (I can't tell you how many times people have said that to me, as if one baby could ever replace another). Then the second part of the song is about a young woman placing her baby for adoption like Bex did. The Lord used our precious little ones to bring us together and to bless us in friendship (you can read about our friendship HERE. We both had unplanned pregnancies as young women). As Bex said when I first shared the song with her, it's like it was written for us/our friendship. Listening to it reminds me of precious times we've had together, sharing our hearts and our love for our children.

Anyways, the song is really moving and beautiful. You can watch the music video for it below or by clicking HERE. I have included the lyrics as well as some reflections.

What's Mine is Yours

by Katherine Nelson and Deanna Harper

Counting down days since nine months last summer

From the baby quilts to the sunshine light-switch cover

All the plans she made

Wall-papered dreams she made for him someday

Doctor hardly glanced her way shut off the monitor

As he walked out the door said “You’re young, there’ll be others”

No sirens or loud screams

No rushing or comforting

It was just over

On the longest road toward home

She parked in the church lot and cried

And said

What’s mine is yours

It’s always been

What slips through my hands has your fingerprints on it

I’m letting go

Remembering

Though Heaven’s doors feel shut they’re wide open

What’s mine is yours

Teenage girl clinging to the gates of mercy

Holding the weight of the world and her newborn baby

Trying her best to be brave

Wrapped in hope giving him away to a longing family

When her courage met their eyes she saw

Somehow her baby was born to be in their arms

And cried

(Chorus)

In this life we come and go and say goodbye

But there’s more than we can see with our own eyes

And when my faith’s a thread-bare blanket and I can’t take it anymore

I remember

What’s mine is yours

I’m letting go

Remembering

Though Heaven’s doors feel shut they’re wide open

What’s mine is yours

I pray that I never lose sight of the truth that what's mine is the Lord's. I was never promised I would get to raise Lily. I was never even promised the time I had with her. It says in the Bible that children are a gift from the Lord (Psalm 127:3). Lily was a gift sent from Heaven, a gift with a purpose. A gift I am more thankful for than words could express. The Lord fulfilled the purposes He sent her for then and continues to fulfill the purpose of her life and legacy now. Though she never took a breath in this world, I believe with everything in me that her legacy is alive and will have breath forever. 

"What slips through my hands has your fingerprints on it." The Lord was not surprised by Lily's death. His fingerprints are on her life and her death. His fingerprints are on my life now. 

Even when "Heaven's doors feel shut they're wide open." Even when I feel like I am forgotten in my grief, He is there. "There's more than we can see with our own eyes." God is always working, always moving, even when I can't understand what He's doing or why.

What's mine is Yours... my children, my dreams, my hopes. They are all Yours, my King... through the yearning and the pain. I surrender all to Jesus.

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Already and Only

It has already and only been four years...

Already and only that long since I've held her in my arms.

Already and only that long since I saw her sweet face.

Already and only that long since saying goodbye until we meet again on streets of gold.

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"Lily Marks"

I have struggled a lot with having stretch marks on my stomach from pregnancy, with nothing to show for it. Other mothers who have these marks have a child in their arms to make up for it. A child that says this is where these marks are from and it was worth it.

I saw this picture on Facebook (not me) a while back that brought tears to my eyes. This is what it says:

"A mark for every breath you took, every blink, every sleepy yawn. One for every time you sucked your thumb, waved hello, closed your eyes and slept in the most perfect darkness. One for every time you had the hiccups. One for every dream you dreamed within me. It isn't very pretty anymore. Some may even think it's ugly. That's ok. It was your home. It's where I first grew to love you, where I lay my hand as I dreamed about who you were and who you would be."

These marks feel ugly at times to me, but truly they are a gift... they are a reminder that Lily really, truly was here. She lived, she was real, she matters. My womb was the only home she ever knew. My love and the love of Jesus is all she'll ever know. I call my stretch marks my "Lily marks" because they are the last physical reminder I have left that Lily grew within me for all those beautiful months. Those marks say I am a mother. They are a reminder of the sacred time I carried my girl. Lily was worth every mark. 

That was one of my fears when I first saw those little blue lines at 19 - how my body would change from pregnancy. I would choose LIFE again all over again, even if I knew from the beginning I'd end up with a completely different body than I had when I was a teenager. Even if I knew I'd end up with stretch marks and a child I hold in my heart, rather than my arms. A mark for every stretch, every yawn, every hiccup, every day of her brief but brilliant life... she is so worth it.

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The Place Where She Lives

I was just thinking about how much this blog means to me. I have been writing here for 4 1/2 years and I cannot imagine not continuing to do so.

This blog has become my sacred space for Lily. It's her space... the place where she comes alive. The place where her memory is real. The place where I feel my heart rest in knowing she really existed. And I'm really a mother, even without a child on Earth to raise. The place where it feels like others also acknowledge she existed and love and miss her with me. It's the place where I keep her alive in my heart as well as in the hearts of others, even when her body is buried in the Virginia earth and has been for nearly 4 years.

Writing is my way of processing everything - my grief, my loss, my love for her (and Luke). It is how I cope with my life without them. Writing and sharing everything I share on this blog is my way of mothering. It's the only way I know how to mother and honestly I sometimes think that if God blesses me with living children in the future, I won't even know how to do that "normally" because this very "un-normal" way to mother one's child in your 20s is all I know.

I am so thankful for a place to call her own. My safe place. I share so openly about my story and my thoughts and feelings along the path God has chosen for me (which is very difficult to do and sometimes I reconsider being so open out of fear of what others may say or think about me). Do others think I am crazy? Do they think I should be "over" this? Do they not count Lily as "real?" Do they think I dwell on all of this too much?

She was real. And this is a real blog with real words from my real mother's heart that loves and misses my real little girl.

I feel like I have to share... like I have to give voice to her. I have to share what it's like to walk this road. I have to share the value of each life. I have to share the grief over losing a baby. I have to share that God is enough for any and every heartache one might face in this life.

Writing helps me. Sharing her helps me. If I didn't have this blog, I truly believe my heart would be a lot less healed than it is right now. I am thankful God led me to write that first post on my new blog called "Rose and Her Lily" back in October 2009 when I was around halfway through my pregnancy.

I don't know what the future will hold for this blog... but for now I know I must write. For now this is my way of mothering her. Maybe in the future, I will process things and feel the need to mother her differently. But for now this is what I need.

And that is okay...

Thank you to those who care to read these words of mine. Thank you for loving Lily and caring to read about her LIFE and legacy and all the things done in her honor and memory. If you are here, I would love to know who you are. I would love to hear your story. How did you come here? Why do you keep coming back here? I feel like I bare my heart and soul in this place and I would like to at least "meet" who is reading. :)

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What March Means to Me

March never meant much of anything to me. I always thought of it as one of the boring, winter months that you must endure to arrive at beautiful spring and summer. All that changed for me in 2010, when my precious March flower was in my arms and just as quickly, she was gone...

March is marked by a sacredness. It holds the memory of a little flower that danced into my heart and left me changed forever. When it comes, all the March memories of 2010 come flooding back. The rest of the year, I catch myself wondering if I somehow dreamed all this up. For everything around me is the same as it was before Lily was here. That's how it is with babyloss. You don't have the reminders that this person was indeed real, as you have when others pass away. People seem to easily move on and forget you, your baby, and your grief. All that I have are the memories of her alive inside me, along with the keepsakes I cling to and cherish above all else. The footprints, handprints, lock of hair, photos. When it gets hard to believe she was really even here, I open that memory chest that's just for her and I hold those tangible realities that say, yes, Lily Katherine was a real, important, special someone.

As March makes it's entrance once again on the calender, it becomes much easier to believe she was real. The bittersweet feelings envelope me. The veil of sadness returns. The memories of the first half of March 2010, full of happiness and anticipation. The memories of the second half of March 2010, full of shock, heartbreak, and tears.

March will never be just another month for me. It will remind me of my firstborn babe, the babe I never fully got to know. The babe I will always wonder what might she be like this March, as we approach her birthday. Whether she be almost 5, 10, or 25. Would she have her own flower, her own babe in her arms this year, twenty years from now, to celebrate with us? Each year, as March rolls around, it will mark another year that she wasn't here. Another year she wasn't growing and laughing and loving and a part of the family. Another year I've had to live without her.

March, the saddest, yet most beautiful month I know. It will always make me sorrowful, wondering who she would have become, yet it will always bring me joy, knowing that she was and will forever be in my heart. Though she's not a part of the family in the way I wanted, she is still a part of each and every day, for she is etched into the very fabric of our lives.

The book Shades of Blue, by Karen Kingsbury, is about a young woman who had an abortion nine years before the time of the book was based. I relate to so many things in the book and found myself in a puddle of tears more than once when I read it. This one particular paragraph captures all that my heart longs to express. It feels as if it's written about me:

"Her life had moved on, and she tried her best to live in the moment. But their baby remained in the shadows, a constant presence, there in Emma's mind the way the date or day of the week was there. She didn't go through the hours reminding herself constantly that this was Friday. It simply was Friday. And that fact stayed subtly with her, coloring the background of everything else about the day. It was like that with their baby." -Karen Kingsbury

Losing Lily and loving Lily colors every moment of my every day. Though I don't think of her nonstop, she is always there, in the back of my mind, in the midst of everything. March makes it even easier to remember and miss her. My mom said just as her four living children are always in her thoughts, it is only natural for me as a mother to have my child in my thoughts. Just because she isn't here doesn't change that mother's love.

I'm not going to pretend I don't desperately wish she was here to celebrate her almost 4th birthday. I wish we were planning a special party, full of only smiles and happy tears. Instead, I will celebrate her birthday with family and friends. We will smile and we will cry, both tears of joy and sadness. We will release balloons to the Heavens and eat red-velvet cake or cupcakes.

For her special day, she will be in the forefront of my heart and mind. For her special month, she won't be far off from my thoughts. I will never be "over" this. I lost my firstborn child, for Pete's sake. And I will never apologize for grieving as long and as much as I need to. No other child could ever replace her. My little flower will remain in the shadows of my heart until the day we reunite in Eternity...

"A moment in our arms, a lifetime in our hearts."

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