Monthly Archives: February 2009



Adam and I have dubbed Wednesday night as “my” night. The evening after Adam gets home on Wednesdays is mine to do whatever I want with it. I can go shopping, take a long bath, go for a walk, go out to eat…whatever I want; without having any “responsibility” as a mama. It’s not as if I don’t have plenty of freedom as is, or that Adam and I don’t share the responsibility around here, it’s just nice to have a special time set aside for me to just literally: check out. And really, two hours out of 168 is all I need.

Stack This plan has only been set in motion for the past two weeks, and both times I have escaped to the library. The first week, I came home with five books, and placed six more on hold. I don’t know what part of me thought I needed to have eleven books on hand, but it became very apparent to me that I was thirsting after reading. I literally was just grabbing book after book after book off the shelves. It has been – oh so long – since I have lost myself in a good book. Reading has proved to be a much needed escape.

Books I look behind me now and see the books sitting on my nightstand, and am anxious to crawl into bed and read one for a bit before turning out the light. Tonight I picked up four of the six books that were on hold, and found that they are all quite hefty, and all due back in three weeks. Looks like I better get crackin’!



Before the births of my children, I picked out a song that would be “their lullaby” and I would sing it to them while I laid in bed at night. After Megan was born, I used to sing it to her as I rocked her to sleep.

I never got a chance to sing Jack his lullaby after he was born. I tried to sing it to him once he passed on, but it just didn’t seem right. I found myself instead singing Megan’s lullaby.

I have since decided that both songs are perfect for my children, but I had gotten them mixed up. The one that I picked for Megan should have been Jack’s, and vice versa.

Megan’s lullaby, which is now Jack’s lullaby, is from a Broadway musical. I found it in a book of piano music that we had growing up, and I remember thinking as a young girl that I wanted to sing it to my child someday. I went over it again and again in my mind until I had it memorized. I’ve never even actually heard the real song; I don’t even know what musical it is from:


No more wars to fight
White flags fly tonight
You are out of danger now
Battlefield is still
Wild poppies on the hill
Peace can only come when you surrender
Hear the tracers fly
Lighting up the sky
But I’ll fight on to the end
Let them send their armies
I will never bend
I won’t see you now ’till I surrender
I’ll see you again when I surrender

I always likened the “surrendering” to a child drifting off to sleep. It took on new meaning as I sang it to Jack that night; as he was finally at peace. I hope to make good of my promise that I made to him then that I would “fight on to the end”.

I don’t think Megan will mind that I switched the songs up on her. After all, she’ll hear me singing both of them plenty of times. I still lay in bed and sing Jack’s song to him everyone once in a while. Perhaps he will check in on me one occasion and hear me singing it for him. That’d be nice.



For some reason, Adam and I missed Jack A LOT today.

He would have been three months old now. I can’t even begin to explain how difficult it is to see other little babies: from newborn until about six months. Of the moms, I am so incredibly jealous, yet truthfully, also very happy for them.

Wondering what he might look like now, I went back and looked at Megan’s pictures at three months. Perhaps this is what my little boy would look like today:

Megan Three Months Old

Wow. What a beauty. Megan is an absolute joy and I treasure each moment with her. I see her as my little gift, a ray of hope; a bright shining light. I love her more then I ever thought humanly possible. I thank Heavenly Father for entrusting her in my care: everyday. Several times a day.


I like thinking that she and Jack would have shared similar physical characteristics. Perhaps they would have had the same eye color, or both would have had daddy’s nose, or maybe mommy’s little rosebud lips. At any rate, I will always see a piece of my Jack in my Megan.

Ghost of Valentine Future


It has been eight years since Adam and I celebrated our first Valentine’s Day together.

Flower In 2001, high school senior Adam timidly handed me a single rose as he hurried off to class. The rest, obviously, is history, but the memory of that day is VERY clear in my mind.

I can vividly picture that 17 year old me, red rose in hand, blushing and smiling as I watched Adam practically run away in a nervous yet triumphant jaunt. I think of that 17 year old girl, and wonder what I would say to her if I had the chance…

MarriageWould I tell her that cute little skinny guy (who had just mustered up more courage than she would ever know to give her that single flower) would soon break her heart, but then in couple years (when the time was right), that he would mend it again?

Would I tell her that the two of them would marry, in the Lord’s temple, for time and all eternity, and that she could never have imagined such happiness?

DaughterWould I tell her that things will only get better as a the two of them welcome a beautiful daughter, who is as sweet as they come and as precious as they get? Should I tell her of the joy and happiness that this little girl will be? That she will fill their home with laughter and music, that she will give the best hugs and the best little kisses? That she will bring sunshine to even the darkest days?

Guardian AngelDare I shatter her picture of perfection and tell her about her little boy, (the one she had been dreaming of since as early as age ten) and how he would be in her life for but a short moment before the angels escorted him Home? That he would change her forever and that he would always leave an empty space in her heart? How no amount of busy work, no “allotted grieving time” and how nothing and no one would ever fill those empty arms? How her experience with her boy would make her different from her friends, family, and nearly everyone around her?

Probably I wouldn’t tell her a thing. It wouldn’t make a difference.

RoseI know she would have still chosen this life. She would have chosen Adam, Megan and Jack, no matter the cost. She would have known that it would be a wonderful life and that she would always be happy: in a bittersweet kind of way.

Here’s wishing that 17 year old girl a Happy Valentine’s Day. I know that she didn’t know then what she knows now, but I am so grateful she chose this life.

But mostly I’m grateful for that timid boy who handed her that single rose.

There IS a Plan


We received Jack’s autopsy last week. I wasn’t planning on putting all the details on my blog, but I decided that it would be appropriate to share a little bit.

Based on the report, it seemed as though several of the things that they thought were “wrong” with Jack, were either normal or much less severe than they had estimated. He was actually described as a “well developed and well nourished” child, with a few little abnormalities. It was decided that he had a full corpus callosum, but that it was, in fact, much thinner than it should have been. We assume that this might have presented some challenges in regards to Jack’s cognitive function, but there are persons who have a hypoplastic corpus callosums, like Jack did, who lead normal lives and function just fine. I think it is 99% safe to say that Jack did not have a chromosomal disorder.

The cause of death was declared as pulmonary hypertension. Included in the report was a long list of possible reasons why a child has pulmonary hypertension, but NONE of them applied to Jack. His “reason” for having pulmonary hypertension was declared as “idiopathic” meaning they were unable to determine a cause.

So bottom line: aside from a few very little things which indicated that Jack may have had some challenges, Jack’s body was very healthy and very “normal”. They don’t know why the vessels in his lungs were never able to open up so his blood could get oxygenated, but it wasn’t related to anything about his development. There is a BIG arrow pointing to the umbilical cord being at fault as it was so tight around his neck at birth. Perhaps he just couldn’t take the breaths necessary to open up those vessels. There’s no way of knowing for sure if this is why he was so sick, but it is the best possibility.

But the REAL bottom line is this: it doesn’t matter how he died, or what caused it. The only reason that Adam and I even choose to do an autopsy was to see if there was any indicator that he had a genetic disorder that we were carriers of (and we truthfully still don’t know the answer to that, but we sincerely feel as though it is not the case.) But whatever the case may be, Jack died because it was part of the Lord’s plan for him and for our family. There’s no “what if the cord hadn’t been around his neck” or “what if they had caught it sooner” or “what if this” or “what if that”. I mean obviously there are consequences to the decisions that we make as free agents, and we most definitely can’t say that it doesn’t matter what we do or don’t do while passing through this mortal existence because “God will do whatever He wants anyway”. Our role here is to show our Heavenly Father that we will make the right decisions and live righteous lives: regardless of what trials and sorrows are part of His plan for us. We have to continue to have the faith that if we endure well whatever we go through on this Earth, that we will be blessed with ultimate happiness: which is exactly what our Heavenly Father wants for us. I know without a shadow of a doubt that He wants us to be happy. AND our every happiness is contingent on the choices we make as we deal with whatever He may toss our way in this lifetime.

"My Little Sweetie"I’m not saying we’re there yet. Adam and I have our struggles with maintaining faith and holding onto hope. But I know God love us. And I know that by adhering to the covenants that we have made with our Him, I will hold my little boy again. And he will be living and breathing and warm to the touch; and will be even more beautiful than he was in this life. Such a knowledge fills me with incomprehensible joy. And if I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times: I can’t wait!