Am I the only one who still knows her name?

Greetings all! 

I can't believe we are almost to summer and this is my first post! It isn't for lack of writing, I assure you.  I write a lot...maybe just not for everyone's eyes lately. 

So much to update everyone on!  Maybe I will go through a month by month replay later but I really felt compelled to sit and write these few thoughts down.

Crea. that is her name. Maybe as you read it, it is the first time you have "said" her name in a long time.

I have to share something I am learning through this process about grief and having to say good bye to a child here on Earth....we appreciate those that talk about her.

Listen, I don't intend to be that mother that is still "going through the process" in 15 years.  But I have to tell you, being fresh into it, 7 months to be exact, I SO appreciate it when folks say her name or bring up the fact that that, yes, we all went through "that".

Sometimes I feel like I am the only one that still remembers her name. Like I am the only one who still remembers my sweet, little, ninja and the time we had.  Maybe that is it...it was only real to me.....



No....no, she wasn't only real to me.  Because altho most of my family would rather not talk about it, there are still those that ask me how I am and will bring up memories of the year we just endured and yes, some will actually still say her name.

There are friends....OH!  My dearest of friends!  They will send me messages and tell me they were thinking of Crea lately and they love her and they love me and they appreciate we shared the journey both good and bad.

There are some that think "it's time to move on". Honestly, I don't know when that time will be. But I will tell you that every single day I am moving forward. Maybe not "on" as some would like me to just stop "bringing her up" but every day, courageously, I move forward.  That is all I can ask of me right now. And any little or lotta bit is good enough for me! 

If I run a race and I glow as I speak of Crea and her well lived life, then so be it. If I get in the truck and want to fall apart, that is ok too. If on my way home, I feel the silence and routine of this life without her is deafening and feels unbearable, that is ok. If I sit at a computer and tap out thoughts inspired by friends that said her name in an email....then that is ok also.

I am blessed that I am not the only one that still knows her name.  Crea. Sweet daughter of mine. Born Sept 6. Took her last breathe in my arms on Sept 7. Crea. Every single day we move forward.

Crea. Thank you for teaching me to Believe Despite.

My last blog post of 2013. My mumbled thoughts trying to make sense!

Greetings all! 

I pray you are in joy and good health when you read these words. I apologize it has been so long since I have last written. Please know it is not because I don't have much to share, I think its been more that I haven't had the courage to sit and write.  I have little notes in my phone, in my notebooks, on little random pieces of paper....just hadn't made the time to get it all together.

This entry may be a little all over the place, but I hope you bare with me because I think some of it is going to be really good!  These are the things that I have been going through as we are navigating through the holidays.

Living like Noah - in faith
It is believed that Noah spent 50+ years building an ark for a flood that would one day come. FIFTY SOME YEARS!  Imagine? Listening to the ridicule and people looking at him as if he were crazy. Living in FAITH that he was being obedient and doing what he was called to do.  I imagine there were times when he struggled. Doubted. Got frustrated and wondered what in the world he was doing this for...wondering if he would be made a fool of.

A few weeks ago, we had lots of ice where we live and work was canceled. We were home for about 5 days on lockdown. We couldn't go anywhere.  I got so much cleaning done. One morning, I woke up and told my husband I was ready to go through Crea's room and organize. He asked me if I was sure and I told him I was fine.

 When I returned from the hospital, my parents came to our home and put everything baby related in her room and closed the doors.  There were a couple of times that I ventured in but fell apart when I saw her crib or little onsies, shoes, or toys we had received. So on this day, I felt like I was ready to tackle her room.

So I began.

I sorted all her little clothes and put them in her dresser. I took all the diapers out of the holder and put them in a bag so I could donate them. I went through all her little toys and put them in a special place.  I cleaned up her crib and set it up to get it ready to go. I took her carseat and stored it in the closet. Piece by piece, I set up a baby's room. A room for a baby who isn't here. One that is in heaven and one that is a hope and a dream right now. I asked Terry, "does this make me look crazy?" As loving and supportive as he always is, he said, "No, we are going to need that room one day."

As I prepared a room for a baby who isn't here, I thought about how Noah must have felt.


Equally, Terry and I reminisced about when we bought her crib.  I found it and told Terry, "we need to go and get it right now."  We weren't even 10 weeks pregnant. He said, "are you sure?" To which I replied, "I am TIRED of living in fear! NO MORE!"

You see, ever pregnancy I have waited to "make sure" before I did anything so I wouldn't have to live with the hurtful disappointment. But this time, I was done with waiting. I knew that I knew that I knew that we were going to get through this pregnancy!  I never imagined we wouldn't bring our baby home. But in all, our little girl was born to us and were able to carry a pregnancy to term. We are grateful for that.  So for now, we are like Noah...living in faith and with a dream and hope of what may be one day. Our baby's rooms is ready!

Living like Noah - Learning to be a friend of God
Today at church, we sang an older song. It is a song that I remember singing when I was in high school.  There is a verse that says, "you're my closest friend, I'll never let you go" When I said those words, I couldn't get the tears out of my throat. You see, to say that He is my friend means that I trust Him.  The Bible says that Noah was a friend of God.  There was trust there. My goodness!  For 50+ years, Noah had to rely that his friend wasn't going to let him fail. He had to TRUST! 
I am not saying that I don't trust God.  I am saying that I think there is a difference between faith and trust.  Faith is my spirit.  My spirit clings to my Savior for dear life!  I think trust comes more from the mind.  I would be lying to you if I didn't admit that I have had moments where I have wondered what the plan is?  Why are we having to go through this? How come it had to be this way?  I am human...

My faith sustains me in that I whole heartedly KNOW He has a plan for us and that He will complete that which he has begun.  It is my mind that I  need to get into check every so often.  There are days that I am learning to trust and allow Him to be my friend again. Because ultimately, the majority of the time, I do trust Him.  I am learning to turn this next page over to Him...with all courage!

Getting thru the Holidays
In all, we are almost through the Holidays; one more left!
They have proven to be very difficult. As much as we had tried to prepare ourselves mentally for what was to come, it was still very difficult.  Both Terry and I have had moments where the pain seems too unbearable. But just as with anything, those moments pass and we breathe again. We are so grateful for our family and friends who are so courageous to press into us.

Our local newspaper had a "year in review". I normally read our local paper cover to cover (since it is only about 8 pages). As I looked through the pages, they listed all the obituaries and my eyes immediately found it.
Crea Jacqueline Rumbo, 0
Ugh!  It was like a 2x4 to the gutt!  My goodness!  I looked up the list and down the list and the majority of folks on the list were 60+ with many in their 80's and 90's.  I broke down and wept.  I was fine all day and then saw that.....too much!

I HATE that my daughter's name is on there. I hate that my daughter's name is the only name with a "0". Talk about breaking a mother's heart!!  I mean, I get it.  It is a tribute. I don't want to dishonor that. It just makes me sad. I don't like seeing her name on this list.

For now, we have one more holiday to go. New Year's.  Today our pastor spoke about 2014 and how it will be a year of Victory.  It was such a great service!  As hard as it may be to move forward, to dream again and make plans, we must.  To honor her. To honor our journey. To honor all.

So we are going to sit down in the next couple of days and as Habakkuk 2:2 says, we will "write the vision down". 

We will do this in faith, TRUSTING that He is ever faithful!  He gives us new life and new hope and in this, we stand strong.

Blessings all!

When is enough, enough? Believing in the dream.

When I was in the hospital, there was a nurse that came in to put a pic line in. Which is basically like a nasty, long sharp IV in your arm that is supposed to last longer than a regular IV....let's not speak further on that for it makes me shiver! LOL

But she came in and we began the regular hospital talk such as "How long have you been here? What are you having? Is this your first baby?", etc. She shared with me that she and her husband had tried two times ending in miscarriage and they decided they couldn't do it anymore and chose to not have children. When I shared with her that this was my 9th pregnancy, she was shocked to know that I didn't have any children. She asked, "how did  you do it?" To which I answered, "I just can't believe I would have such a strong desire and have to leave this earth without it ever being fulfilled." You see, there was a time when I spoke to God after losing so many babies where I said, "If this is never going to happen for me, then take this desire away."  The desire never left.

I have shared with many that truly, it has been an absolute miracle from heaven that I haven't gone completely crazy. I mean, how much heartbreak can one person endure? How many times can I step up, believe and be broken hearted when the outcome is not as I wished?

My pregnancy was a very difficult one from the very beginning. With no sleep because of MAJOR indigestion from week 4 to MAJOR nausea and vomiting for almost 10 weeks to dehydration, sore back, etc, etc...I honestly thought this would be our only child. I don't share that in a complaining way, but it was very difficult and wasn't sure I was ready to sign up again. My desire to have children and not just one child was there, but when I really thought about it, I had to be realistic as to what I could endure and quite frankly, what my family could endure, since we were all in it together.

Some would probably think me crazy to keep trying. The nurse expressed she couldn't understand where I could get the strength. In my mind I thought, "I believe in this dream more than I believe anything else."

Believe in the dream.

I read somewhere that Walt Disney filed for bankruptcy eight times. Eight times did he step out and put it all on the line. Eight times did he feel he had failed. Eight times did he walk away empty handed and broken hearted. And now...I don't think there is anyone in the world who doesn't know Disney.

When would have it been enough for him to hang it up and walk away?
When is enough enough for me to hang it up and accept that it just isn't for me.

You see, this is what I believe. I believe every great dream has a price. It may not be a monetary one but there is a price. In this dream to be a mother, my price has been learning faith. Pushing myself beyond the thoughts of what I think is real. Believing despite what looks impossible. 

Although the hits of disappointment have sometimes knocked me straight off my feet, as soon as I am able to stand up again, I am ready to fight again. Since I was a little girl, I have been this way. When I was 15, an opportunity opened up for me to go to Africa; a dream I had since I was 8. Everything around me was saying I wouldn't be able to go. In fact, the night before my trip, I still needed over $1000 to go. As I was packing (as if all were good to go), my sweet mom sat in her room crying, asking the Lord to help me deal with the disappointment. My parents had helped me all they could as well as everyone around me. But in my heart, I thought, "God didn't bring me this far to let me fail." So I packed my bags and readied myself for my journey. That night, a woman who had already given me a lot of money called me and said, "I can't sleep and I can't stop thinking about you, is everything alright?" I shared with her that I didn't have all the money. She met me the next morning, money in hand so that I could be on my way.

I was 15 years old. Moments like those have shaped my faith in believing in the absolute impossible.  As you may imagine, 14 years and having 9 babies in heaven has also had an impact on me. My getting up and dusting off for the fight has gotten a little slower and maybe not as strong. The difference between the faith of a 15 year old to that of an almost 40 year old woman is different in that more "life" has taken place...reality seems a little clearer as you get older. And sometimes that clear view of "reality" is harder to get through to actually believe in your dream.

But this is what I am meditating on and learning these days.
I must learn to believe my dream more than I believe anything else. More than I believe the last 14 years. More than I believe what science and medicine says about me being older. More than I believe what has just happened this year.

I don't know why Crea had to leave us so early. I may never know. But I do know that this desire is still there. I don't know how it will be achieved. These days I find myself wishing I could fast forward a year so I can see how everything will unfold for us. But since that is not going to happen, I must look at what I can do. And that is, Believe. Build my faith. Get through the grief. Stand up. Dust off. Fight again.

Enough is not enough when it comes to big dreams. I am learning to believing more in this dream than anything else. 

If you're reading this and you have also be hurt or disappointed in a great desire or dream, know this, you are not alone. There any many other broken soldiers like you and I. Pink says it best in her song, "we are bent but we are not broken" and there is another song that says, "keep on dreaming even if it breaks your heart."

I hope you will be encouraged this moment...let's keep on dreaming! Enough is not enough.

Will we try again?

This is our little Crea shelf at home.
 It has all the small gifts we received while we were in the hospital, the mold of her
tiny hand and foot and the small red sparkly jar is her urn.
 

This week was my first full week back at work. It was great to get back and get busy. The days at home were difficult as I didn't feel very useful. The doctors didn't really want to release me because it wasn't even 6 weeks from her delivery but I insisted citing, "I need it for my mental health". (o:

It was mostly good. A little hard at times and I had my moments where I sat in my truck and cried. But overall, it was good. When I left to be in the hospital, many of the folks I work with saw me big and pregnant when they saw me last.  There was one apartment I went to inspect and when the manager saw me, she welcomed me back warmly and asked, "How's your baby?" I tried to suppress my emotion and said, "She passed away, actually." She immediately started crying. I didn't know what to do or say. I said, "It's ok. She was strong and we are so grateful for the time we had with her." She composed herself and told me she had just lost her fiancé to a long fight with cancer. When I got in my truck after our conversation, I smiled and felt SO grateful. I had the opportunity to share some of our journey and encourage her on hers. Right before I left, she asked if she could give me a hug and I told her, "You are not alone in your grief."

Wow. I am so, so grateful that even through some of my hardest moments, God still sees me fit enough to use. Even in my brokenness, He brings people into my path so I may share His light. I can't explain it clearly, but I am truly touched and grateful that even at a moment that I thought would break me, I could still be strength to someone who needed that moment.  Our God...in His infinite mercy...I am humbled and proud.

Moment by moment we take it each day. There isn't a moment that goes by when I don't miss our sweet girl and miss the days that should have been. Today we went to Cabela's (one of our favorite stores) and Terry kept asking me if I was ok. I kept seeing all these things thinking, "I would have loved that for Crea".

It really isn't about getting through the days. It's more about getting through the moments. So, even if some are harder than others, we still get through! *smile*

Now, its time to answer the question that many think of and some have asked..."will we try again?"

Here is the long, unclear answer.

Our desire to have a family is greater than it has ever been. Now we know that we can carry a pregnancy. After 14 years of miscarriages, the hope and belief that we CAN is at its highest point for us. We would LOVE to be pregnant again.

However, the reality for us right now is that Crea was very, very sick. I haven't really shared everything to the extent that it was because I'm not ready yet, but when I say that it was a miracle we got to meet her...please know that I say that with absolutely zero exaggeration. She was amazing, strong and a true miracle. The hospital sent a bunch of her blood to a lab to look at a lot of different things, but part of that is the genetics. We are still waiting for the results and hope to get them soon. What we are hoping to find out is if any of her illness could have been avoided and what role did we play in it? Was it just a fluke chance that it "just happens" or were there different things we could have done before we got pregnant to provide what was needed for her? Oh! The questions are many, many! But ultimately, we want to know IF we try again, what is the chance we would have a sick baby? If the chances are high and there is nothing we can do to avoid it, we have decided we will not try to get pregnant again and will take the proper measures to insure it doesn't ever happen.

We have always considered adoption and surrogacy.  Once we get the answers of Crea's bloodwork, we will decide how we will move forward.

I keep having a dream/vision that we have a baby and find out we are pregnant. I don't know if that is just my made-up dream or if it is something that will happen one day.

The short of it is this, however. Terry's faith and hope are sustaining us today. My heart is still broken and my goal each day is to get through the holidays and start the year new. I KNOW I want to have a family, but right now, my hope gauge is running on fumes. I am grateful that each day it gets a little stronger, but I am just taking it a moment at a time. (This is just me being honest)

SO....long answer made longer...
We hope. We wait. We hope. We dream. We wait. We hope. We dream and we wait.

I pray this message finds you well. The weather is getting cooler and each day we celebrate this life! For the good and not so good, this life is truly beautiful!!!

PS
If you are reading these blogs and have any commentary, questions, comments, I'd love to hear from you! It gets lonely in blog world when you don't hear from anyone.  (o:

I complained because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet.

October 15 has come and gone. I take a deep breathe and exhale as I feel the clouds have passed and the sun begins to shine on my moments.

I went back to work yesterday for a little while and today was my first full day back. What a blessing having a good job with a great work family makes. I am truly grateful. I have enjoyed getting up and having somewhere to go and something to do. Part of my struggle has been that I felt that Crea left this earth and, as it should be, everyone continued in their every day. Everyone except me. Because I had a C-section, I wasn't allowed to return to work and the fact I had been in bed for 2 1/2 months also left me quite weary. I know it will take time to get back to "old" me, but it has been a struggle. I have felt so useless as I have been home while everyone continued to every day life. It feels good to be at work and feel useful again. It has also been good to feel a bit of confidence that I can be out in the "real world" and not feel I am "marked" as a grieving mother. Yes, moments have come when I  felt I was about to lose it and fall apart, but the busy-ness of work and having accountability to others  made it easier to rein the emotion back. Work is good for my soul.

On the drive home I was reflecting about Oct 15. On Facebook, I am part of many groups of women who have lost pregnancies and babies. Many of them were posting pictures of their candles and the different things they were doing to honor their angel babies. It was overwhelming to see how many are still with their arms empty or they also experienced not having babies here on Earth. As I read through some of the posts, my hearts broke for them and with them.

The night Crea was born and they told us of all the complications, I was laying in bed in between tears and the thought kept coming to my mind, "we are not the only ones." Partly, it was to remind myself that this was not just happening to me, but also because I realized that this journey is not a one family journey. There are so many others who have and will experience the trials of losing someone so dearly.

There was a nurse who took care of Crea and I that shared she had lost her husband, her soulmate about 3 years ago. When she shared this with me, I thought about Terry and I couldn't even imagine not having him in my life. As she shared her story, my heart broke for her loss as I tried to understand how she gets up every day and continues on.

In all of this, I realize that we are ALL living with a hurt, disappointment, loss and struggle. Very few of us are exempt from the trials of this life. It is amazing that we are not all falling apart! (She smiles) But, seriously, part of living this great life is knowing that if we haven't hit devastation yet, we may in the future. I'm not saying I hope it happens to anyone, but it makes me realize that we are all in this together....trying to find the great in this great life.

As I walk through my days, it makes me cautious of what I say. For instance, it used to really bother me (still does a bit) when women complain continuously about their pregnancy. All I could think was, "I WISH I had morning sickness, aching back and not sleeping because I had a baby growing inside me!" Now, having experienced the Nth degree of struggle in a pregnancy, I do understand where the complaining can come from. But every time I felt the struggle, I would think of the many sisters in this journey that were still waiting for their BFP. (That's a term we all know in the infertility world as Big Fat Positive) I thought of all those women who would share on our groups that they were on the 2WW (2 Week Wait) for a positive test that would reveal their dream was about to come true.

It doesn't mean that I won't ever complain about people, thing and situations, but it just makes me mindful how my struggle may be someone's dream point. Does that make sense?  I may run into times when Terry and I aren't getting along, but what if I am talking to someone like my nurse that would just LOVE to have her husband back and I'm sitting there complaining. (and probably about trivial things)

It reminds me of an old saying I heard once. "I complained because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet".

There are so many people dealing with life...some good, some not so good. None of us know what or to the extent of another's struggle. I am challenged more than ever to JUST BE KIND.

We are human. We are going to complain, get discouraged, feel disappointed...but we have a choice as to how we are going to behave.

I hope this encourages you as well to be cautious of words...we never know who might be listening.

I hope this message finds you blessed. I, for one, feel content and quite frankly, proud! My first day back at living was a good day.

Blessings all!

This is real... My broken Hallelujah

Behind that door is the baby's room. It is filled with a crib, diapers and all the makings of a dream that was to come home. For now, everything lays still and quiet behind that door.

This is the real deal. The raw, unedited side of dealing with the grief of your newborn baby taking her last breathes in your arms.

Today is Oct 15: Infant and Pregnancy loss awareness day.  I have been a part of this club for 14 years. It is a day that I have stopped to remember the 8 pregnancies that were miscarried. (As if I ever lived a day without thinking about them.) This year, 2013, I thought would be different. Having carried this pregnancy for 35 weeks, I thought I would be spending this day with my newborn daughter remembering her siblings...my arms would not be empty. But they are. Tonight, I will add another candle...a 9th candle for our sweet girl, Crea.

When I was in the hospital I was following and praying for a baby named Corbin. He was born very sick and was beating the odds of the disease that had consumed his small body. Every day I would follow his momma's posts and pray for them. I remember the day she said he had passed away from this Earth and gone home. My heart broke. From my hospital bed I cried for her and thought, "I can't even begin to imagine what she is feeling." Never, in my wildest dreams did I think that just a short month away, I would be experiencing her grief. It had never crossed my mind that our daughter would not come home with us. Terry and I had discussed how she may be in the hospital for a while and what that would look like, but we never imagined going home empty handed. That reality is painful.

Today, Corbin's mom posted something on Facebook where she is saying she wished she would not be a part of this day. How she never imagined being a mom with an angel. Everything she wrote resounded so heavy in my spirit. I try to go through my days with grace. I try to stay positive. But today, the day is bitter. I remember sitting in our hospital room after Crea was born and they had conducted surgery, the doctor had just drawn out diagram showing us everything that was wrong with our baby girl. He said the prognosis was bleak. I remember asking God, "Why are you going to break my heart?" FOURTEEN years I have waited. I have believed. Despite myself, I have stood in faith. FOURTEEN years it has taken me to get to experience the joy of being pregnant. Tho it was difficult, I absolutely LOVED being pregnant. I loved watching my belly grow and feel her moving. I happily handled the sleepless nights and the constant vomiting because I told myself it was the sign of a healthy growing baby. Through the 14 years, I grieved 8 pregnancies I desperately prayed would produce its fruit here on Earth. Eight times was I in total joy when I had a positive pregnancy test and in complete grief when I felt my babies leave my body...once more leaving me feeling that I possessed a tomb and not a womb. Now, here I was, having delivered a beautiful baby girl after 14 years dealing with the reality that yes, she was here, but we weren't going to get to keep her. It's like looking into the face of heaven and being told we can not stay. You can't imagine my heart break.

In that, I also remember thinking, "He can't let her die, there are way too many people that are believing for this miracle." Somehow, I thought that because the audience of believers was so great, it would be impossible for Him to take her. Surely, He wouldn't want to lose face. Ha! This IS God we are talking about after all! I know, I know, all silly thoughts. But these really are things that crossed my mind as we went through that long weekend.

So here it is. Today, I will light my candles but I regret my portion of grace given to me for this day is not enough. I am sad/mad. I can't believe I am still part of this club. I can't believe that my arms are still empty.

When I got home from the hospital, after making arrangements for Crea's service, I went into Crea's room. I felt brave enough and having dealt with the week's events of getting her service arrangements in order and waiting for the service on Saturday, I thought I was ready. I was fine for a moment and as I walked out, I touched her crib. That was it, I fell to my knees and wept. I shouted at God. I begged God. "How can you break my heart? Why do you still leave my arms empty? I WANTED TO KEEP HER!!!!" Even as I scribe these words, tears fall down my face. These three statements run through my head at least once a day. Not always are they so desperate or painful. Sometimes, they are simple, kind statements in hopes that He will answer. But today, they are bitter and cold. I am sad.

In January of this year before we knew we were pregnant, I was sitting in church. I got to thinking about Hannah in the Bible. If you don't know the story, the short of it was that she was not able to give her husband children. He took another wife and she bore him many children. Every year, they would all go to the temple to make their offerings and give thanks and every year Hannah would go to the temple empty handed. She asked God to help her have a child. Year after year, she made that journey with her arms empty. I thought of how she must have felt. I thought about how I felt. In that service, I closed my eyes and whispered, "Don't allow me to continue to return to the temple with my arms empty." Little did I know that a baby was well on her way.

Fast forward to the Sunday after Crea's service. We went to church and during worship, I lifted my arms and worshipped. WOW! What a beautiful, painful moment. It is hard to explain. I lifted my arms and thanked the One who allowed me to carry such a perfect baby and at the same time, my heart grieved. Still today, when I go to church and worship, I can't help but cry. Here it is. This is my Broken Hallelujah. I will cry out to my God in my time of need. Equally, I will worship Him in this pain, in this grief, in these moments when I feel I can't breathe because it hurts too much. Just as I worshipped Him when I felt my daughter move in my womb or the moments I sat and listened to her heart beat strong. He is still the same. The only thing that has changed is my situation. And guess what? He knows it. I know that He is strong enough and kind enough to handle my broken hallelujah. He knows that it is bitter for me right now. He knows that in my mind, I believe there is hope but my heart's break hurts too much to believe it right now. He knows that I love Him and that I believe He sees me but He also understands that I am scared. He can handle that I have moments when I am mad because I don't understand. He also knows of the moments that I don't want to understand, I just want Him to fix it.

...I just want Him to fix it...

This was my Facebook status the day after Crea died and we were being released from the hospital::

At this moment, I am laying in the bed that served as my nest for the last 9 weeks. My faithful husband is downstairs unloading the first round of items into the truck so we can head home. The room is quiet now. No monitors letting me hear my sweet daughter's heart. No blood pressure cuff going off or knocks on the door from nurses or staff.

Just me.

I feel a physical pain in my chest that validates, "this. is. real."
The funeral home will be picking her body up in an hour.
We will be making our way to our real nest...home. There i will relearn to live again. To see my beloved Kota bear, my herd. After 2 months, I will slowly get back into a life.

I pause. Look out at the familiar scene of the brick building next to us.
I look at my still swollen belly and I can no longer feel her Ninja kicks.
At this moment, I lift my arms high with every sorrow inside me and in my spirit I cry, "I MISS HER!"
And in that same breathe, my arms fall to this bed and my heavy head lays on my chest and I whisper, "but I am so grateful that You made good on your promise to allow me to see her and be mom"

This sorrow will come in waves.
Our grief is real.
But our sincere gratitude is equally as real.

These 9 weeks have been difficult. I love what one of the nurses said to me this morning. She commented that maybe I was put on bedrest so I could be still and have time to get to know Crea so I could share her with the world.
...maybe.

For now, the tears will start and stop today.


I am still grateful. I know that hope is still present. I know this pain will subside and the questions formed by grief will be answered in its time.

These are just the ramblings of a grieved mother who is truly, truly, grateful despite.

 To close this post, I want to share something from a book a friend of mine sent me. Although, at times hard to read because of the emotion, this book has been such a blessing to me.

The book is called, "My Time in Heaven" by Richard Sigmund

Reunion of Mother and Baby
My attention was drawn to a group of about thirty-five people. They were standing in front of the veil, waiting for someone special to appear. I could tell that everyone was in an excited and joyous spirit.

There were those gathered who evidently had died many earth year ago, but here, it was only yesterday. I saw people who must have been this special person's children, sister and husband, who had long since become residents of heaven.

"There she is," someone said. A person in the group was carrying a baby. The baby had the full power of speech and was totally aware of all its surroundings. This baby cried with a high little voice, "Mommy! Mommy! There is my mommy. Jesus said that I could remain a baby and that Mommy could raise me in heaven."

How great is the love of God.

At that moment, an old, wrinkled woman, all stoop-shouldered and very frail, came through the veil. Instantly upon entering the atmosphere of heaven, she snapped completely straight-her frail, stooped over body became just as straight as could be. Suddenly, she was once again a beautiful young woman, dressed in her radiant, pure white robe of glory.

Everyone cheered with shouts of joy as the little baby flew into her arms. They had been parted at childbirth. The woman had survived concentration camp, but her baby had not.

Yet God, in His infinite mercy, saw to it that nothing was lost. The love of God is so great that no person could know it all. It truly is beyond finding out, and only eternity will tell it all.

Stood in the pasture and wept

Today I was out feeding and I stood in the pasture and wept. As I looked up at the sky I whispered, "I love you and I miss you so much!"

The rain has cleared the humidity  and everything feels so fresh. All day I was working on insurance and medical bill stuff, avoiding any of them with the name "Crea Rumbo" on them. They bring back the reality of 6 weeks ago when I got to hold our daughter in my arms and watch as she took her last breath.

Moving forward is what I attempt to do every moment. Some moments are easier than others. Standing in the pasture weeping was difficult. It's opening up and allowing myself get into grief. I know it must happen but the reality of how much it hurts is difficult. I have shared with my mom how sometimes I am afraid to allow myself to truly grief because I am afraid I will get into a spiral and not be able to get out of it. Alas, however, it is something that must be done.

While I wept, the animals came up to me and sniffed me. It's interesting how much animals can feel. They even left their food to come and make contact with me. ...God's little mercies, I think.

I know that the moments will get easier and moving forward won't feel like such a betrayal to all that was. These are the real emotions that come with losing someone so dear.

Now, as I scribe these few words, the door of her bedroom continues to make its presence known. One day soon, I will go I and sort thru all of our baby stuff. I'll put them all away in the hopes that I will one day soon begin to dream again.

All this is my reality right now. Not all moments are as difficult. I suspect when I get back to work and get into a routine, the moments will be easier.

Grief, you have my attention now. Be easy on this broken heart.

Til this lion roars again, we take each moment in stride, one foot I front of the other.