Tuesday, August 20, 2013

It's been a year

It's been a year.
A year since I last held my precious Logan, a year since I got to kiss his squishy cheeks, a year since I last smelled his sweet scent. And it hurts as much today as it did a year ago. Maybe more.
As I write this, I am still in awe that he's gone. I have wished every single one of the last 365 days that it wasn't true, that he was still here, that I could see his cockeyed grin, rock him to sleep or hear his sweet voice. But he's not. So here we are, faced with a momentous anniversary that I'm not quite sure how to handle.

We have plans to enjoy the day as a family, to do some things we did with Logan and to carry on some little traditions we started as ways to remember the mark he etched on our hearts. It will hurt, but I have to keep reminding myself that I don't ever want the hurt to go away. It's part of remembering him, and I'd rather hurt than not have the memories of the short time we did have together. 
Amidst the grief and the sadness however, there is joy. Not happiness, but true joy. Logan is healed. He is no longer suffering the cruelties of our human flesh. He is running, playing and getting to experience things in heaven so wonderful that our feeble little minds cannot begin to comprehend. Oh, how that makes this mommy's heart leap! I am so ready to get there too, so I can see it for myself!
It brings me joy to know that he is home, where he was created to be. I said early on in this journey that Logan was not made for this world. None of us are. We are created for a very specific purpose. Logan just fulfilled his in 23 short months. He led people to his Maker. And that's what we are all ultimately here on earth to do, to live a life that points others to God, while keeping our focus on heaven. 
Thank you for walking this journey with us, for encouraging us and grieving with us. We thank God for you!

Thursday, January 31, 2013


After a long blogging hiatus, hunkered down with my little family, trying to sort through the pieces of our life, I am going to try to be more consistent with posting. Bear with me.

Grief is the strangest thing. I can see why so much research and study has been dedicated to it. We all experience it differently, and we can grieve over so many things. It's not just about death. I mean, it is for some people, and that is a very raw, hard grief. But we can grieve any kind of loss, or even the thought of impending loss.
I get to hang out once a month with a group of moms whose kid(s) have rare and/or undiagnosed diseases like mine, and we have talked a lot about the different kinds of grief we have all experienced. Every one of those women have grieved the diagnoses of our children. The reality that those little lives will never be what we had pictured when we learned we were having a baby, the reality that we may never get to see that child play soccer, graduate high school or walk down the aisle, the reality that we will likely plan that child's funeral and bury our babies. There is real, true grief there people... all seven stages (or however many there are), and it is not unlike the grief I have experienced after Logan's death. It's ugly, it's hard and it's not easy to talk about, especially when you feel like no one could possibly understand.
But today, as I got to have wonderful, rich conversation with a sweet friend, we realized that there are more people who understand than we might think. We have all dealt with crap in our lives, and are still dealing with it. Maybe we should give the people we come in contact with a little more credit? Maybe if we gave others more of a chance, they would surprise us with just how much they can relate? Just because someone looks like they have it all together, doesn't mean they do. Just because they talk about surfacey, inconsequential things, doesn't mean they're shallow. I could come across as both of those things from time to time, and I can assure you neither is true. I'm dealing with it the best I can for today, and that may mean putting up a front that I have it together or keeping my conversations distant and pleasant. I have no idea how I'm going to be feeling from day to day or minute to minute, so it is nearly impossible to prepare for it (or give those around me fair warning). So I'm trying to cut others a little slack, because loss sucks - no matter how big or small - and we're all going to grieve over a loss at some point or another.
And here's the good news (because He always has good news)... "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." (Psalm 34:18 NIV) That is us, the grieving, broken hearted, crushed in spirit. Thank you, God.