Hope.

You will judge by my absence that this post has been just as difficult to write as the last. I was naive to believe that writing after Henry would become easier with time since I have learned repeatedly throughout my life that writing, like a muscle, has to be exercised again and again to remain strong. Evidently, two and a half months worth of grieving has not only caused me to atrophy emotionally and physically, but it has also weakened my desire and ability to write. Much like my previous post, I am still speechless. Though most of the initial numbness has worn off there are numerous times throughout my day where I have to convince myself that yes, I was in fact pregnant. I gave birth to a child. And we do indeed have a son; his name is Henry Robert. He has thick blond hair, a gentle profile, and an endearing temperament that demands constancy and predictability (like his Daddy).

And then inevitably I am newly acquainted with the same painful reality that although we have Henry, he inexplicably had to leave us. He is not in his crib that was lovingly built for him. He is not spitting up on his newly-washed 3 month clothes. Nor is he in my arms; rather, he is where we cannot physically see him or watch him grow.

The pain of facing this reality each day is suffocating and at times the thought of having it with me for the rest of my life feels insurmountable. I have a testimony in Jesus Christ and I have known that the Church of which I am part is true. I have known it all of my life and now, more than ever before I am grateful for the healing it has brought to my troubled heart. I cannot, nor will not deny the sacred feelings and confirmations that I have felt over the past months which have witnessed to me that I will see my son again. Yet I am only human. Although I have faith, I still experience great sadness.

In previous posts I have stated that I am the type of person that enjoys and almost relies upon looking forward to things. For those of you that have followed my ramblings for the past 11 months you understand that more so than anything else in my life, I was looking forward to being a parent with my sweetheart and being Henry's mother. To not be able to do those things that I longed for is a harsh and mortal reality to face. I suppose that my silence on this blog is a reaction to this reality - a reality that is so disappointing and sad that it causes my body to ache and hollows my stomach.

Many people have said that grief is like a roller coaster ride with hills, tracks, and jerky starts and stops. Though this analogy is true in many respects, I would more accurately describe grief as a toy car which has to be pulled back numerous times before it can shoot forward again. Although it seems hard to believe from what I wrote above, I do not cry sobbing tears each day. Though, there are times when I wish I could. And I do not feel despair all day long rather, it comes in waves. And after a series of hard minutes, hours, or days where I feel impossible despair I am blessed with a peaceful moment where I am able to understand that Henry is alright. That he is well, he is whole and he is a good person.

Just like the toy car, I think that I have to go back a few emotional inches to propel forward again. And that forward motion brings me to the crux of this post. Although the pain of being separated from Henry feels intolerable at times, I cannot deny the hope I feel after the tears are gone. Because after I express my feelings of anger, sadness, and grief I come back to the same feeling that although my life seems unfair at times there are still reasons to hope. These reasons are varied, and right now they are basic. I hope that I can someday perform those basic daily tasks that I used to without the numbness in my mind or slowness in my limbs. I hope that one day the pit in my stomach will be replaced with laughter and warmth. I hope that I can live to be worthy of the love that has poured out to us from the far corners of the world - from even the most unexpected sources - to ameliorate the pain. I hope that I can be a strong support for my husband and be the wife that he deserves. I hope that we can survive this together. I hope that one day that we will be able to feel that inexpressible joy of parenthood again. And I hope I can see my Henry again.

We were offered a glimpse of hope a couple of weeks ago while on a weekend trip to California. Our vacation was brief and I do not think we realized just how much we needed to get away until we were actually there. A dear friend offered us her beach side condo for the weekend and we spent a majority of the time by resting, listening to the water, and walking through the waves. My friend told us that she hoped by offering her condo to us that we would not only feel relaxed but that we would feel healing in watching the water and listening to the ocean.

I do not think I ever took the ocean for granted, I always appreciated its grander but I feel that after losing Henry everything has taken on new meaning. The ocean constantly is undergoing change and rebirth. New water cycles in with the tide and systematically, rhythmically returns. It was cathartic to watch the process. To see that although things are swept away, new things are brought in its place.

By a wonderful coincidence and careful planning, my parents were able to join us for a day on our trip. They stayed in a hotel just twenty minutes away from us and we took full advantage of having each other around to laugh and relax.

As parents, our grief has been inexpressibly difficult to bear. But I am not a grandparent yet and I can only imagine how hard it must be for our parents to not have their little Henry around to cuddle, spoil, and love. I feel that at times it has been equally difficult for our parents to experience such grief and I was grateful that my parents were able to be with us - I only wish that Rob's could have been there too.

My dad caught this picture of us on the balcony of the condo. I know that I have written this many times, but I am constantly amazed by my husband. Henry brought and continues to bring out the absolute best in Rob. I am thankful each day that we are together and that I get to experience this life with him.

I could write an art historical description about the significance of this picture (which means a lot to me) and go into a long (and cheesy) analysis of it, but I will simply say that although the waves are coming, and they will continue to come, he is still standing.

Henry Robert Koelliker

We are alive. We will survive.

"Despair can seem like a staircase that leads only and forever downward. Hope, on the other hand, is like the beam of sunlight rising up and above the horizon of our present circumstances. It pierces the darkness with a brilliant dawn. It encourages and inspires us to place our trust in the loving care of an eternal Heavenly Father, who has prepared a way for those who seek for eternal truth in a world of relativism, confusion, and of fear...And to all who suffer - to all who feel discouraged, worried, or lonely - I say with love and deep concern for you, never give in. Never surrender. Never allow despair to overcome your spirit. Embrace and rely upon the Hope of Israel, for the love of the Son of God pierces all darkness, softens all sorrow, and gladdens every heart." Dieter F. Uchtdorf

Blank.

Last night I emailed my last paper to my professor and finished my coursework for my first semester of graduate school. I have meant to post during this last week but my mind, has appropriately been blank. And it may remain that way for some time. After an intense three weeks of racing to the finish line my brain has at last reached a brick wall. I have written emails in the past few days that have been sent without crucial verbs and adverbs. My concentration has been non-existent and my heartburn has climbed to new and unexpected levels.

However, now that finals are over, it seems that Christmas has snuck up on me. In just one week the festivities will be in full swing and our time will happily be consumed by our family. Like you, we have our special traditions - we have our dinners, our nativity, our breakfasts, and our visit with Santa. Yet perhaps my most favorite are those stolen moments when everyone is gathered around, laughing, and talking about beloved family memories, and creating ones for the future.

This year, more so than ever before, I have been more aware of family. Much of this naturally can be attributed to our Sprout, who although still in the womb, is already a very real presence in our family, our home, and our lives. I cannot help but feel more excited about the season this year. A season that has been created to celebrate the birth, life, sacrifice, and love of a little baby, who changed the course of humanity and was a force for good in this world. I have loved being "with child" during this time of year and I suspect that I will equally love having our Sprout with us next year.

Hopefully all of you have wonderful and happy things planned for the week ahead. Watch your favorite Christmas movie ("Home Alone" is still hard to top in my book), indulge in some chocolate, and spend time with the people that matter most.

Distractions.

Forgive me for my sabbatical. I assure you that I have not been enjoying myself on my little blog-break, rather I have been immersed in finals. The past two weeks have been chaotic at best and now I am reminded why I was so relieved to graduate with my undergraduate in the first place. How quickly I forget the lessons I learn the hard way. Surely you will understand why I chose not to write in my spare time when I have been frantically composing my final papers.

The good news is that one and a half of them are complete. The very unfortunate news is that the only one I have left is proving to be the worst and most uninspiring to write. I have officially lost my will to think, write, and basically string any type of academically-coherent sentence together so I am amusing myself with shopping. After all, Christmas is just thirteen days away and up until today I was woefully unprepared for it.

Last week, Rob and I made our first, and arguably most important, purchase for Sprout's nursery. I happened upon this artist on Etsy and became enamored with his unique style. After some consideration and visualizing, we thought that decorating with woodland critters in our little Critter's room seemed quite fitting.

This raccoon was our favorite. What do you think?

Obviously we are still need of some other things such as a crib, stroller, etc but those things will have to wait until next Thursday when my brain will be uncluttered and my psyche will assuredly be lighter.

Breakin.

The week that little Sprout and I have longingly been looking forward to since the beginning of the semester has finally arrived. Fall break is upon me and it could not have come at a better time. I thank those blessed bureaucrats at the University of Utah who planned the academic calendar and understood that college kids need a break from the bump n' grind of school. A time for nerves to unravel and the brains of their eager young pupils to recuperate and gear up for the last, and hardest, half of the semester.

For the first time since the end of August I have been able to spend guilt-free time with Rob, my family, and my friends. Now I fear that my sabbatical has come to an end. This week is partway over the familiar panic of papers, midterms, and bibliographies is sinking in. Tomorrow I will officially resume my studies. I hope that this break will carry us (meaning baby, Rob, and me) to the middle of December when I am amidst a deluge of research papers and finals.

But since today is still today and not tomorrow, I will relish the last few hours of my break. Here are some of the highlights of my stay-cation:

...watching the big wedding with Rob.

...buying my first pair of maternity pants (which are still a bit too big).

...going on a spontaneous shopping trip to Park City.

...feeling a tiny kick, courtesy of an increasingly active Sprout.

...dining on homemade buffalo wings and chocolate-covered strawberries (thanks again Tamber and Eric).

...cheering on the Cougars for another win.

...having long conversations with Rob, my sisters, and a friend.

...eating Sunday dinner with my parents, brother, and Grandma.

...hearing my Grandma react to watching The Princess Bride for the first time.

...catching up with dear friends over lunch.

...enjoying a Daddy-Daughter date.

...seeing Up for the second time and loving it.

...crying at Bright Star with a good friend.

...sleeping.

It definitely has not been the most exciting break, especially considering that most of my friends in my program are spending this week in New York or Seattle, but I think it was just what the doctor ordered. Particularly in the middle of the flu season.

Magic.

Back when Rob and I lived in University Housing (aka "The Village") we once heard a talk given by a young father of three.  Evidently this couple had their first child shortly after they were married.  He told the expected endearing and familiar stories about his three children and paid his long-suffering wife sincere compliments.  I do not remember what his talk was about, but as he spoke and looked out at the congregation littered  with newlyweds he said that he still remembered those "magic Sundays." Magic Sundays, he said were those times when their house was still clean.  The noise levels were low and it was just the two of them.  He and his wife took naps, they watched movies, and they used their Sundays to rejuvenate.  

And on a beautiful afternoon such as this, I have to admit that I am reveling in this "magic" Sunday.  It is an unseasonably warm day.  The sun is shining and the leaves have been completely dumped to the ground.  Our bellies are full and content, the Mo-Tab is playing in the background, and Rob and I get to lounge and unwind after a crazy week full of celebrations. An anniversary, a birthday, a new Bond movie, and the highly anticipated opening of Westminster College's A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (Marcus Lycus steals the show; I should know, he's my brother and he's fantastic).  All in all, it was a great week and we will enjoy this last taste of "magic" before we have to start all over again tomorrow.