That Ellie-Shaped Hole

Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's... One thing these special days have always had in common for us is family.  A time to be together with the ones you love the most; to enjoy each other's company, and share in each other's joy.  Only this year, these days will reverberate echos of sadness as we try not to keep staring at the empty chair among us. 

Frankly, I would be content to just fast-forward through the holidays this year.  Better yet, rewind to this time last year when Ellianna was snuggled safe and secure inside my womb... before she felt any pain, and before we knew the pain of losing her.  How about a re-do?  I'm sure I could fight harder for her this time.  Unfortunately, that is not a reality.  I must try to find peace in knowing her pain is gone and she is whole once more.

What will it be like to have Thanksgiving dinner uninterupted by the needs of our 8 month old?  Will we be able to hold back the tears at the sight of a lone, empty stocking hanging between ours?  As we count down to a brand new year, will we be able to look past the agony of knowing she will not be here to celebrate her birthday?  Most of all, will there come a day when it no longer feels like our hearts are shattered beyond repair?  Because we choose hope and we know faith, the answer is yes.  Healing will come.  For this season though, the pain is immeasurable.  It's hard to feel joy and it's hard to give cheer.  We are clinging to each other, taking one day at a time... bracing ourselves against the storm.  Aching from the deepest places within us to not see our beautiful little girl in that empty chair.

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The Love of my Life

This week Mark and I are celebrating our 10th wedding anniversary. A whole Decade. Wow.

Are there people who thought we would never make it? Most certainly. Were there times that nearly broke us apart? You betcha. But the thing is, when God looks on something and says it is good, IT IS GOOD. We have been continually molded and shaped and taught how to love each other and rise above the hurdles that are thrown in our path. In spite of every attempt the enemy has made, God's hand has faithfully been on our lives, pointing to the beautiful purpose that He is fufilling through our love.

So 10 years later through the raw grit of life, I have a greater love and understanding of the man that I chose to spend every day of my life with...

10 Things I Love About Mark...

1) He still kisses me goodnight, even when he *thinks* I am sleeping.

2) He is not afraid to show his tears.

3) He always makes time for our children.

4) He kills all the spiders.

5) He supports me and helps me reach my goals.

6) He is "better than me" at driving the babysitters home.

7) He makes sure our girls know they are beautiful-- inside and out.

8) He is SO patient.

9) He is a darn good cook.

10) He is the glue that has held us together through some of the hardest days of our lives.

Celebrate with us. God has chosen something impossible and made it something beautiful, and we hope that we will be a reflection of that promise of healing to anyone who sees us.

Happy Anniversary Buddy!!!

Good Things

In all the hurt and uncertainty... good things are happening.... This week marks the first steps in some important journeys for our family...

Please remember us in your prayers this week... pray we will stay focused and working as a team... that we will make it to all of our appointments with as little stress as possible... that we will be protected from negative thoughts... that we will be rested. That God will do great things in us and through us. We believe...

From the Mouths of Babes

"From the mouths of infants and children, You have created praise."

Matthew 21:16

Morning time holds a special time of prayer for the kids and I.    It began as me praying for them each morning while they listened. Now it soothes my heart to see how they are learning to pray and growing in their own understanding of who God is. They are so simple and honest... many of us adults can learn from the humble prayers of a child. How often we get concerned whether we are using the right words or making our prayers sound good, and yet it is the words of the children we know are close to the heart of God. I want to share some of the things these precious little souls are praying for... and hope they make your heart smile like mine.

"Please hold Ellianna in Your lap in Heaven and keep her safe" -Jacob

"Please help Mommy not be afraid" -Baylie

"Help me to have a happy heart today" -Bella

"Please help those Angel Guards keep Satan out of Heaven" -Jacob

"Please let Ellie see your rainbow horse" -Baylie

"Help me do my best and not listen to lies" -Jacob

"I hope Ellie is having fun with you in Heaven" -Bella

"Help our friend to believe in You" -Baylie

These simple and heartfelt conversations show me the trust and faith that is molding their lives and giving them hope... and it encourages me to hold tight to my own.

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Empty Space

Two months have gone by since we gave our little girl back to Heaven… a blink in the face of eternity, but it feels like so much longer in the lonely expanse of the days spent without her. Some days I am able to smile as her sisters talk about her coloring up in Heaven, or when I feel relief that I don’t have to protect her from anything. Most days though, I’m just sad. I feel jealous when I’m around other families who are smooching on tiny cheeks or rubbing rounded bellies that are about to burst with fresh new life. Then I feel guilty for feeling that way and wish that I had more grace to bestow.

I feel alone and left behind. The rest of the world has moved on, and I am still swallowed by a sea of grief. No one can possibly feel what I still feel when I walk down the hallway and see her bedroom untouched, her tiny diapers still in a neat stack.

No one knows how I swallow tears when I buckle the other kids in our van, which seems too big now with that empty seat. No one thinks how every time I see the precious pictures of her on our wall that there won’t be any new ones to add. She was here, and there are pieces of her everywhere. Pieces that stir such emotion, it’s enough to break a soul. The first days after she died, I felt numb. Numb allowed me to keep going, to get through what needed to be done. Now I find myself wishing for that numbness instead of this shattering pain.
When my 3 children walk side by side I see a space… a hole where my littlest girl will never skip along beside them. When other people see us, they must not understand why we have anything to be sad about. They tell us how lucky we are to have the children we do…. They say how nice it must be to just have one child at home during the day… they say she was lucky to have lived as long as she did. I am not at a place where I can see the glass half full yet. Although I am happy to know Ellianna is whole and well and living in glory, I still miss her and yearn for her here… and I will, until I go Home.


It must be terribly awkward for people. People do not like to see pain. They want to know we are ok, that we are moving forward, and that we won’t break into tears in the middle of a conversation. That’s the thing about grief… it’s not something that goes away in a month, 6 months, a year… we are in it for the long haul. At Christmas when there is an empty stocking, we will be sad. 5 years from now when she is not starting Kindergarten, we will be sad. When there is no prom, no high school graduation, no wedding…we will still feel the pain and sadness of losing Ellianna. Many people are afraid of that; afraid to see us hurting… so they distance themselves, afraid to say or do the wrong thing. Well the wrong thing is to ignore it. We still need to know you’re here for us just as much as the day that she died. We need to know that you’re not too nervous to be around us, that you understand when we cancel because we have been hit by a new wave of grief, that you’re willing to talk about her, to say her name, to let us know that you have not forgotten.

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Lean In To It

"How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?" Psalm 13:2

The grief of losing a child is immeasurable. It is a weight that lays over me like a heavy heavy blanket. Having other children I have learned, multiplies that grief because I am also grieving for the hearts of my living children. I am broken by the hole of losing my daughter and also bearing the burden of her three siblings who have lost a little sister. I am watching my 3 year old play that her baby dolls are dying and being buried... I am sitting with a 6 year old who wants to know why Jesus didn't let Ellie come back like in the book "Heaven is for Real"... and explaining to a 9 year old that just because we didn't get the answer we wanted, God is still sovereign. I am watching a 5 year old just a whisper away from death, and wondering if I still believe in miracles.

I know how this story ends, but that does not stop the enemy from planting doubts.

Mark and I started attending a Grief Share group this week. We had some challenges getting there, and almost didn't make it, but we sure know now that there is something special in store for us. We met a young couple whose baby girl was born at the same hospital the day Ellianna died, and their baby girl, Lily Grace, died ten days later. What an amazing source of comfort it is to have someone who almost literally stood in our shoes. God places the right people in our lives at just the right time. It has been frustrating to us to feel like we are stuck while everyone else has moved on with life... our group is a place where we can be in that spot with others who are walking the journey right along with us. If you are grieving, or need to grieve a loss that you haven't yet, find a Grief Share near you... it is a powerful resource for an impossible hurdle... http://www.griefshare.org/.

Someone told us grief is something you have to go THROUGH. You can't go over it, you can't go around it, you have to go through it...so LEAN into it. Like an ocean wave. That is what we are doing. Sometimes the waves are gentle, sometimes they knock us off our feet, but we are in a journey we can't avoid.

Please don't stop praying for us...

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Smashing Eggs

These past few weeks have been a roller coaster. It is hard in the depths of grief to see the rest of the world move on, and yet I know each day brings me that much closer to being reunited with my little girl.

The time came for Mark to go back to work and for Jacob and Baylie to start school. I knew that would be one of the hardest times for me. It is hard to have days so quiet when I am used to them being consumed by Ellianna's needs. I have spent much time sitting in the rocking chair in her room-my sanctuary- spilling my heart and my tears. Bella has been a perfect little companion. She just follows me around and watches whatever I am doing...her company is comforting. So far we have not accomplished anything big, but have made it to the gym every day and checked off a few projects around the house. We have out of town company this week and again a few weeks from now, so it will probably be Fall before things are really mostly normal for us.

Anger has taken a place in my sadness. I have had many days lately when I am so angry that Ellianna is gone. Angry that I couldn't fix it, angry that God didn't stop it, angry that I am watching my children cry because they miss their sister. Each day I am reminded of something I will never get to do with Ellie... never make her lunches for school, never put her hair in pigtails, never see her lose her first tooth, never watch her eat birthday cake... it makes me so ANGRY. I talked with the kids about being angry. I told them I was feeling mad and they said they were too... we talked about how it's ok to be mad about it. At the suggestion of a friend, we had a therapuetic egg-smashing session in the bath tub. The kids were a little shocked at first (probably that I was letting them do this!) but they joined right in and together we threw and smashed our anger out and watched it dribble down the drain. I saw a lot more smiles after that.
I did not really feel like celebrating on my birthday. I felt sad that it was the first special celebration that Ellianna was not here for. Mark and the kids made it special though and we all wrote letters to Ellie on balloons and sent them soaring up to the sky from her grave. It was really meaningful to all of us to feel like we could put our thoughts into something tangible.

Joy will come. We don't know when it will come, but we are confident that there is a Healer of broken hearts, and ours are His to heal.

"Those who have been ransomed by the Lord will return.
They will enter Jerusalem singing,
crowned with everlasting JOY.
Sorrow and mourning will disappear,
and they will be filled with JOY and gladness. I, yes I, am the one who comforts you."
Isaiah 51:11-12

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