6 months

Tomorrow it will be six terrible months since we lost our sweet baby boy.  And I know you now know exactly what I'm going to say:  it seems like it's already been FOREVER!!!!!  It feels like it's been much longer then six months.  And that seems overwhelming to me.  My heart is full of overwhelming love for this child and I miss him every minute of my day.  I was recently told that we will never get over this, but we will get through it.  I think something I miss most about having Lincoln with us is his angelic personality and his incredible ability to make anyone feel at peace in moments.  I miss slowing down and just enjoying every minute of life as he did and helped us do the same.  The above picture was taken just a month before Lincoln passed away.  He had been hospitalized for a night because he got so sick from a common virus.  This was just before we left the hospital.  He was feeling better and was all smiles, as always.  What a trooper.

I still can't see that anything good can come from this situation, although people insist it will.  But I do try and continue to learn from it.  I try to continue to have faith although it's very difficult sometimes.  I was told just yesterday by a very wise woman that faith is not just a feeling.  It's a decision.  I must decide to continue to have faith in God's plan for me and my family.  I must have faith that He knows what is best.  The past few months have ironically felt harder then the first few months after his passing.  Again, I've been assured that this is 'normal'.  I think I was blessed with peace and amazing comfort and support through the first few months and then I suddenly felt alone and angry.  And when there is anger, it's difficult to feel peace and comfort from the Lord.  So, I continue to try and find acceptance in His plan, and an understanding of it.  I try to still see the blessings that we have been given, and the tender mercies from the Lord.  My sweet dad reminded me recently that the Lord did what was best for Lincoln.  It was his plan.  Not mine.  And although that's difficult to hear, I try and remember the truth in that.  I have no idea what Lincoln's life here on earth would have looked like as he would have gotten older.  I don't know that he would have walked and talked and had friends.  I don't know that he wouldn't have been teased by others or been called names.  And although I truly think he would have walked and talked and lived a very happy life, I still don't know exactly what was best for him.  But my Heavenly Father does.  And I must have faith in that.

My sweet sister-in-law wrote a sweet poem I wanted to share on here:

God sent you a child
A child who never grew old
With ears that made us laugh
And a heat as pure as gold

And our crazy family
More closer knit we grew
When we found out he was different
Different from me and you

We fasted and prayed
That his struggles would come to naught
Little did we know
It was us who would be taught

We called each other more
To see how he was doing,
And celebrated as a family
With the progress he was making

We got swept up in the journey
Of everything you went through
And learned the lessons you learned
Of love, patience, and virtue

We mourned as family
On that heartbreaking night
When Lincoln went back home
And prayed that you'd be alright

Not one of us slept that night
No not a wink
Our thoughts were with you
And that sweet little Linc

As far apart as we were
We yearned for one another
And we quickly made arrangements
To soon be together

There was not much we could do
But a thing here or there
Still we came just the same
To show you that we care

For that sweet little boy
Who blessed our family
Who taught us so much
And left us so suddenly

And as I sat with our family
As we laughed and cried and loved
I thought that this was Lincoln's last gift
A last lesson from above

That the things that matter most
Are God, friends, and family
And trivial things fall away
For what makes us truly happy

Goodbye Lincoln
It hurts so much to say
But we take comfort in knowing
We will meet again someday

We won't forget your silly smile
Or the curl of your strawberry hair
But mostly we won't forget
The lessons you were born to share
----Aunt Brittney

What a gift Lincoln is in our lives.  I'm so honored to be his mother and have learned so much from him.  I love you little Linc Linc.  I miss you so so much.

My scar

According to definition a scar is an "area of fibrous tissue that replace normal skin after injury. A scar results from the biological process of wound repair in the skin and other tissues of the body. Thus, scarring is a natural part of the healing process. With the exception of very minor lesions, every wound results in some degree of scarring."

I've been told that scars are something to be proud of; that they tell a story, mark a significant event in your journey through life, show that you've learned something, and most importantly, that you've healed.  I had major knee surgery 3 months ago, on May 3rd, almost exactly 2 months after Lincoln's passing.  I'll spare you the nasty picture of what my knee looked like immediately following surgery but here is what my scar looks like now, 3 months later.  If you compare the 'before' picture to the 'after' picture, this scar doesn't look too bad!  In fact, it's healed quite nicely.  

But in my eyes this scar doesn't just represent the fact that my knee has now healed.  It represents so much more.  A friend of mine teased me that I should get a tattoo to represent Lincoln.  I told her I would never get a tattoo, but that the scar on my knee would always be a remembrance of this period in my life.  If only the scar of loosing my son would heal as easy as my knee.  People were so worried about my mental well-being following surgery because I was already in such a fragile state, and yet I quickly reminded them that this knee surgery and the pain that I was feeling was nothing compared to the physical pain I was feeling inside from loosing my child.  And as I've watched the scar on my knee "heal", I can't help but wish my broken heart would heal a tiny bit too.  I've come to realize that there truly is no "scar" when grieving the loss of a child.  There is no "healing"of the wound or experience that 'replaces the normal life' as a scar replaces the normal skin.  The wound is open and you just learn to deal with it.  And as the definition reads, scarring is part of the natural healing process, there is no real natural healing process with grieving.  You don't heal.  And unfortunately the scar, if there is such a thing, is not something to be proud of, or to learn from, although it does change you forever.  And like the scar on my knee that will never go away, I will never be the same.  There will always be a mark on my heart that will be there forever.  A very wise person told me last week that I will NEVER get over loosing my son, but I will get through it.  Just as I got through this terrible knee surgery.

We had the opportunity to engrave a brick, with Lincoln's name on it, in front of the Kindering Center, where he received all of his special education therapy services.  We drove over to see it a few weeks after it had been completed.  I hadn't been back to the Kindering Center since Lincoln passed away so it was an emotional experience.  I miss everything about that place, especially his therapist.  I'm glad they put his brick front and center, just where he deserves to be!

 Jezelle sitting next to the brick

 My sweet dad surprised us with this beautiful rock in his yard a few weeks ago.  My parents have an incredibly beautiful yard and garden.  What a neat gift and such a great way to honor him.

I am continually amazed by the thoughtful things that people do for us, to help us know that Lincoln has not been forgotten.  The flowers that are left on my door step weekly, the cards and notes in the mail and even the simple text messages that are sent truly mean so much to us.

  
Yesterday marked the 5th month since Lincoln's passing.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again . . . it seems like it's been FOREVER!!!!  But, I hope like the scar on my knee, my 'wound' will heal, at least enough so that I don't hurt so badly every day.  And through all my hurt and pain, I have to remember how blessed we are to be Lincoln's parents.  I'm so honored to be his mommy and to have him in my life.  And although I am changed because of this loss, and I see the world much differently now; through very different eyes, I am also changed for good.  And that is because of my sweet Lincoln.  We love you Lincoln.  We love you so so much.

Blogs

When we first discovered that Lincoln had special needs I scoured the internet, finding any and every blog I could find, written by a mother of a child with special needs.  I related to their perspective, their heart ache, and most of all their joy.  I often knew exactly how they were feeling and what they were going through.


I don't read those blogs very often anymore.  I feel sad that I don't have a child with special needs here on earth with me anymore.  I miss feeling what they feel, and doing what they get to do with their children.  I'm envious of all those mothers who get to raise their children with special needs.  I sounds crazy, but it's true.  What an incredible blessing and honor it is to be Lincoln's mother.  And oh how I miss taking him to therapy and doctor appointments.  


Though I often wonder what those families are up to, I can hardly bring myself to reading about their lives now, because they aren't like mine anymore.  I now have found an entire new set of blogs to read, written by mothers who have lost children around the same age as Lincoln.  Again, I take great comfort in knowing I'm not alone.  I'm not going crazy.  And although I never feel like I'm going to make it through another day, I somehow do.


And I relate.  I now unfortunately know exactly what it feels like to loose a child.  The following quote is taking from a blog I often read called A Daily Scoop:


"This pain now is like a headache. Sometimes it is in the background, dull and distracting. Other times it is throbbing and demands solitude. Then there are times it overcomes me like a migraine, making me physically ill and spontaneously producing tears and pleas for it to go away.  And yet, in the painful silence there still is a peace. In the sorrow there is a pervasive peace. How these two coexist, the peace and the pain, defies logic. They partner to dance gracefully across the stage of my life in this unwritten act. In the end, their dance will be the one I remember. I watch daily as this dance transforms me into a new being."


I read that one time recently and knew exactly how she felt.  She put into words just perfectly what I often feel on a daily basis.

The 4th of July

Every day is hard without Lincoln but on holidays, when we are all gathered together as family and spending time enjoying one another it's a continual reminder that we are missing someone.  We are missing our sweet Lincoln.  Yesterday was no exception.  And I find myself wondering if it will always be that way.  

And though we try our best to enjoy a fun day with family I am continually asking myself what would Lincoln be doing during each moment of the day.  During the parade I wondered whether Lincoln would have liked it or if he would have been scared of the loud noises.  Would he have laughed or cried when he saw the clown?  Who would be holding him?  Where would he be sitting?  During our family BBQ I thought a lot about what Lincoln would be doing at that very moment.  Would I be holding him or would Shane be?  When would we have fit in a nap that day?  What would he have eaten?  Would he have liked the watermelon?  Or the cake?  Would we have taken him to watch the fireworks at 10:00 pm?  No, definitely not.

Last year we were actually in Mexico on the 4th of July, so we didn't celebrate the 4th.  Or I guess we did- by eating delicious Mexican food!!!  I was looking forward to doing our normal family traditions this year with Lincoln.  Shane and I both agreed that he would have loved the parade.  And although I love the 4th of July and enjoy each little tradition we have, I'd trade all of it for one more day in Mexico with Lincoln.  One more hour.  One more minute.

I'm reading a book right now called Heaven is Here by Stephanie Nielson.  She has an incredible story of surviving a plane crash where 80% of her body was severely burned.  In one part of her book, as she's struggling to survive, she talks about how much she missed running and hiking.  She says she was struck by just how much she had taken for granted in her everyday life.  She says, "Was I grateful enough to have a body that could run before I lost it?  Did these hikers even comprehend the incredible freedom they enjoyed, how lucky they were to put one foot in front of the other?  . . . I'd been so innocently living my life, and though I'd made every effort to appreciate my many blessings, it struck me now just how much I had taken for granted."  I get that.  I relate.

Every time a mother complains on Facebook or in person about their child making a mess, waking up in the night, or throwing a temper tantrum I want to scream at them, "at least you have your children with you on earth!!!!"  It's unfortunate that we can't experience things in this life before we actually experience them.  It seems so unfortunate to me that we never know how much work it is to be a parent, until we are a parent.  We would appreciate and show so much more love and respect toward our parents, while growing up, if we even had one inkling of what it felt like to be a mother or a father.  We would appreciate our health and our bodies if we knew what it was like to be terminally ill or missing a limb; therefore not ever able to run or hike again.  We would complain less about our children waking up in the night, or burdening us with their simple requests all day long, if only we knew how much we would miss every single thing about them, before their died.  And now that I do know that I try very hard to not take my everyday life for grated.  I try to not be burdened or offended by silly things.  And I continue to try to find the blessings in my life, and see the tender mercies the Lord gives me each day.

Questions

When people say, "they don't know what to say" I always tell them it's better to say SOMETHING (even if it's "I don't know what to say") then to say NOTHING at all.  I also have found that since there really isn't anything anyone can say to help us feel better, I enjoy when people ask questions.  It shows they care without stumbling on words of advice or suggestions that really are not helpful at all.  So, I thought I'd answer some of the great questions that I've been asked lately, incase anyone is wondering....

*Lincoln's name is not up on his plaque at the cemetery yet.  It could take up to 6 months!!  It's ridiculous really.

*Of course anyone is more then welcome to go and visit his grave at the cemetery.  I'm always more then happy to describe how to find it, although it may be easier to find when his name is there.  However, in the mean time, just follow the pinwheels!  You'll know where he is.

*Lincoln's final death report was recently issued by the medical examiner.  They never found any cause of his death, and therefore on that report it states, "unknown cause of death to an infant."  SIDS is only given for those children younger then one year of age.  So, Linc was too old for that diagnosis.

*We haven't touched Lincoln's room.  It's the exact same way it was when he left us.  For now we like it that way.  We all spend a lot of time in his room and feel at peace when we are in there.  He has a great rocking chair in his room where I will often sit and snuggle with Jezelle, or just sit by myself and rock, holding his little giraffe lovey while praying that I can feel him close by.  I think it's a place where we all feel close to him and at peace.  I sometimes walk by Lincoln's room and Jezelle is just sitting there rocking in the chair, looking out the window and holding his lovey.  Ohhh how she misses him.

*I was recently asked (by my sweet sister-in-law who is always so thoughtful) what I miss most, aside from the obvious of missing Lincoln himself.  And as strange as it sounds, I miss being a mom to a child with special needs.  I miss the special needs community we were part of and the incredible families and teachers we were blessed to have known.  I miss Lincoln's therapists, I miss watching Lincoln at therapy, and taking him to therapy.  I miss our drives to therapy, which at least once a week were about 30-40 min. away.  I miss seeing him in my rear view mirror.  I miss Jezelle having a sibling.  And I miss who we were before he died.  Because regardless of how we look at it we are changed.  We are all different.

3 months

Today marks another month we've lived without Lincoln with us.  It's been 3 months.  It feels like so long ago now that it almost seems like it was a different life.  And I guess in many ways it was.  Everyone who knew him has now been changed because of this experience.  We are all different.  We are all changed.

I've had quite a few people tell me that grief is like a series of waves.  Though they are always there, sometimes they come crashing down harder and more unexpectedly then others.  Either way, they come, so we just have to learn to face them head on and ride them out entirely.  It's no use fighting them.  And they aren't going to just stop, or go away.

And so we pray to get through another month.  Another day.  Another hour.  And at the end of each day we thank God that we've made it through another day.

Cousins

My sweet 3-year-old nephew, Eli is a fire ball!  He's full of energy and is non-stop all day long.  He's actually a very sensitive kid though and always had a very tender place in his heart for Lincoln.  My sister says he still sometimes asks if Lincoln is coming over, or where Lincoln is.  My sister and I always thought it was fun to buy these two matching outfits so they had a few of the same shirts.  Lately Eli has been asking to wear a specific shirt again and again.  He calls it his 'Lincoln shirt' and wants to "wear the same shirt as Lincoln".  Though he's not able to express it like we can, in his own special way we know that Eli misses our little Linc just as much as we do!