Lots of people have been asking how we are doing. Wondering how we are handling the aftermath of losing Matthew. I can't believe it's been just over two weeks since our lives forever changed. I have been on facebook a lot less recently. It's just too painful most days. My news feed is saturated with pregnancy announcements, belly shots, baby photos, and, well, life. Not that everyone else shouldn't go on with their lives, I am not saying that. It's just hard for me to read about it, that's all. And that's okay. I finally took my husband's advice and quit getting on facebook so much. So for those who want to know how the funeral went and what has been happening in our lives the past week or so since my last post, feel free to read.
The funeral was on Thursday, June 21st. The funeral director and a woman from the cemetery were there, along with our pastor. And that was it. Jonathan and I wanted a private service, a time to reflect and remember Matthew and deal with the grief in some privacy. The service was beautiful. Pastor Dave shared some amazing scripture and spoke a lot about how much Jesus loves children. Verse after verse after verse reaffirming what we already knew but now needed to hear--Jesus loves children, and that includes our sweet Matthew who is with Him right now. One thing that really stood out to me that Pastor Dave said was that God knows what it is like to lose a son. During the service, the tears were streaming and my heart was aching and I was trying so hard to listen to every single word that he said so that I would remember it. But when he said that, it was like everything came to halt. I know that Christ died. I know that He is God's Son. But right there it dawned on me that God did really know exactly what we were going through. He knew exactly what we were feeling. That statement by far is what has stuck with me most from the service. The day was beautiful and sunny--but not as hot as the days before or since have been. There was a breeze that was blowing almost the entire time and every once in a while, a huge gust of wind would come through. To me, I felt as if that gust was the prayers of so many of you; a reminder that while we were physically alone there without our families and loved ones, we were not truly alone. God was there with us and your prayers were felt. Matthew's tiny casket was resting on a metal pedestal and whenever the wind would come, it would rock him gently back and forth. Almost as if God was giving us a picture of what He was doing in that very moment--gently rocking our son in His arms. After the short service, Jonathan and I knelt down and said our final good-byes to our son. I hugged his casket and told him again how very much I loved him. And then it was time to go. We weren't really sure what to do with the rest of our day. We'd never done this before. What are you supposed to do after your bury your child?
We decided to go pick out a flower to plant at our house to serve as a memory of Matthew. Something visible that the kids could see to always be reminded of their baby brother. So we headed to Meijer to look at their garden center. The worker asked us when we got there if we were looking for "anything special". Jonathan and I just shared a look that said, "If only you knew." I wanted something that would bloom every year and that was easy to take care of because, lets face it, I am known to have a black thumb. Jonathan suggested a rose bush but I already have two of those and I wanted something unique that would be the only one in our yard. After a short search, I came across a type of lily. It was an asiatic lily, specifically called a "tiny dino". I loved everything about it. I loved that it had the word tiny in it. I loved that it had two large flowers, two smaller flowers, and one bud that was just about ready to bloom. I loved that it was a beautiful orange color--a color that wasn't too girly for our little guy. When we asked the worker about it, she informed us that it was very easy to care for and that, while the flowers would not stay around all summer, they would bloom every year about this time. Perfect. The next day we were able to take the kids outside, find the perfect spot, and plant it together as a family. We call it our Matthew flower.
The days have been like a roller coaster. Some days are good, some are bad. Even the hours of my days change. One minute I am fine and the next I am broken down in tears. The day after the burial, I saw a grief counselor. She is actually a nurse for Dr. Mathis who experienced a miscarriage over 30 years ago and decided to use her loss to help others dealing with the same thing. Meeting with Kathy was a blessing. She let me cry and reassured me that all my feelings were perfectly normal. She sent me home with lots of resources to help me along my path of grieving. After I met with her, I went out to the cemetery to see Matthew's grave. Being there was hard but also healing. I love where he is buried. It is out in the country in a small cemetery that is so peaceful and quiet. As I knelt there next to his grave, I read a poem that Kathy had sent with me that gave me so much peace:
I know your heart is broken,
from the pain of losing me...
but Mommy, I'm so happy,
if only you could see.
There are angels all around me,
with flowers in their hair...
this place is filled with beauty,
God's love is everywhere.
He spared me from the sorrow,
that your earth has come to know...
so please don't worry, Mommy,
'cause Jesus loves me so.
Heaven's light shines brightly,
on my little angel face...
if only you could see me,
your pain would be erased.
Such happiness is waiting,
and one day you will see...
we'll finally meet in Heaven,
forever you and me.
On Monday life returned to "normal". Jonathan had to go back to work and I had to figure out how to resume life as a mom and homemaker. Luke had been dealing with a fever on Sunday off and on and when he woke up Monday he complained of his ear hurting. I took him to the doctor and discovered he had an ear infection. We got him some antibiotics and he began to feel better almost right away. I am not glad that Luke was sick but I do see it as a blessing in disguise from the Lord. My first day back was filled with taking care of him. Later in the afternoon, he felt much better so my mother-in-law went with the kids and I to a nearby greenhouse to pick out a hanging basket to put out by Matthew's grave. That was the first time the kids went to the cemetery and Luke did not even want to get out of the car. I felt so bad for him. I tried to explain to him what we were doing there, but how do you make a young child understand something like that when they have never even heard of the words "cemetery", "grave", or "buried" before? The flowers we picked out are beautiful and really helped make his grave seem....loved.
Around dinner time on Monday evening, I received a phone call from Dr. Mathis. She had the results of the autopsy in and wanted to share them with me. What she said shook me to my core and began a downward spiral into a dark and scary place. She informed that they could find nothing wrong with Matthew. He was perfectly healthy in every way and they could provide no explanation for his death. My blood work had already shown that I did not have any underlying conditions to cause his death either. The only thing she said was that my placenta was detached from my uterus. However, they have no timeline for this. They cannot say whether it happened while Matthew was still alive (which would cause him to die) or whether it happened after he died or during delivery. I wasn't sure if the news of Matthew's autopsy was supposed to make me feel better or not, but it certainly did not. When I got off the phone with Dr. Mathis I immediately went into my room and began crying uncontrollably and raging to God, "Why??!!?! Why did You take him? He was perfect!! What did I do wrong? Why did You let this happen, God? Why??!?!"
I screamed into my pillow, crying tears of anger and deep, excruciating sorrow. With no physical reason to explain his death, the only thing I was left with was that either I caused Matthew's death by something I had done physically (maybe I shouldn't have eaten that hot dog or climbed that sand dune or drank that caffeine) or by something spiritual. Apparently I had angered God and He was teaching me a lesson or punishing me for it. I experienced a feeling of guilt like nothing I have ever felt before. It was real. It was painful. And it was ugly. As Jonathan later told me, I went more than just back to square one in my grieving. I went into the negatives.
Tuesday morning I could hardly function. My kids were fed and dressed and that was about all I could do. I sat and stared into space, the guilt overwhelming me. I tried to contact the grief counselor, who had told me to call her anytime I needed someone to talk to, but she was out of the office that day. I tried to text my mom but she was at work. I emailed Jonathan and told him that I could not take the guilt anymore. He was able to get away from work for a few minutes to call me, but really, he's a man and what could he do from 45 minutes away? Finally my mom was able to text me back and I think her mother's intuition let her in on how bad I was doing. About noon, a car pulled into my driveway. There was a knock at the door. It was my mother-in-law. Feeling a little embarrassed since it was noon and I hadn't even showered yet and was still in my nightgown, not to mention an emotional wreck, I sheepishly let her in. She immediately marched the kids downstairs to watch a video and told them she was here to talk to mommy. She planted me down in a chair, told me that I was going to tell her what was going on and that then she was going to talk. All my guilt, anger, rage, jealousy, sorrow, and heartache poured out. After I had cried every tear I felt I had in me, she then took her turn to speak. And she spoke truth. She told me what I needed to hear, what I wouldn't allow myself to believe. This was not my fault. I did nothing to cause Matthew's death. God is not punishing me. He is not a vengeful God who is seeking to cause me pain. He knew the number of Matthew's days before he was even conceived. And He is not surprised by any of this. He is a big God. He can handle my anger. He can handle my questions. And He can even handle my doubts. The thoughts of this somehow being my fault, that God is punishing me and that I don't deserve any happiness anymore are lies straight from Satan. Looking back at those hours between when I got the phone call from Dr. Mathis and when my mother-in-law came to see me I realize that I was in the midst of a spiritual battle. Satan loves to go after the weak and vulnerable and that was me. I was the perfect prey. Too weak to call on the truths that I have grown up learning, I was susceptible to any and every lie he threw my way.
My mother-in-law talked with me for about an hour, then told me I needed to take some time for myself. So I grabbed my journal and a blanket and drove out to the cemetery. I sat by Matthew's grave and for the first time since everything happened, I wrote in my journal to God and actually met with Him. I had been reading my Bible and praying every day but it was almost like going through the motions. There comes a point sometimes when you just can't pray for yourself anymore. That's where the prayers of so many of you came into play. I wrote out all of my frustrations, anger, confusion, and questions to God. I told Him that I didn't understand why this happened but that I will let it be part of my testimony. I will let God stretch me through this. After 45 minutes of writing, I finally came to a peace. The pain and sadness of losing Matthew did not just vanish and disappear. But a peace from God covered me and I began to accept that I may never know why this happened. I may never get my answers this side of heaven. And that is okay.
I feel like I have turned a corner since Tuesday. Every day is still hard and every day I cry over my lost baby. Every day I still think about how far along I would be in my pregnancy and whether this would have been the day I finally felt him kick me for the first time. It still stings to see pregnant women and I'm sure it will for a while. Some days the pain seems to be subsiding and then something triggers it and it all comes rushing back. But I am finding myself smiling again. Laughing. Finding joy in my husband and children. I finally let myself play my piano again. When I was pregnant with Matthew, I would often times play for him. I would smile to myself when I played, wondering if he could hear me and dreaming about whether he would love music like his mommy. So playing again for the first time was really hard. But I can still play for him. He's just hearing it from a different place now.
We went to church for the first time yesterday. It was a lot harder than I thought it would be. Little things that you don't think about until you have to face them are really painful reminders of what we have gone through. Like the fact that our name no longer appears in the church bulletin under "prayers for a safe and healthy pregnancy". That was hard to see. I am truly amazed at how many people have shown their love for us during this time. Emails, visits, hugs, cards, meals--it really is amazing. My attitude and approach toward those who are experiencing loss has really changed. I used to think, "Oh, I don't need to send them a card. I don't even know them that well" or "I can't go up to them. I wouldn't know what to say or do." But let me tell you that every single card, every single hug, every single act of acknowledging our son's life has meant the world to us. No more will I worry about what words to say to someone. I know now that sometimes you don't need words. Just recognizing someone's grief and loss goes a long way.
There's so much more I could say about this. So many different things that have happened during these last two and a half weeks. I'm still learning so much and I'm sure I will have lots more to share. But know that we are going to be okay. Jonathan has not been out to Matthew's grave since the burial. He is not ready yet. And that is fine. I go out there nearly every day to water his plant and visit. I find such comfort in it. It gives me joy to be able to at least take care of his flowers and make sure they are watered and beautiful. The kids often times go with me and they have found normalcy in it now and enjoy helping with the watering. I can tell they are still processing everything. Addison has been so clingy, sometimes not letting me out of her sight. She still says that she wants another baby brother in my tummy. Luke's questions come randomly. He asked me one night if Matthew would come back into my tummy when he was done in heaven. Try explaining eternity to an almost five year old! He is asking lots of questions about heaven now, too. I just finished reading "Heaven is For Real" and found great comfort in it. Our library has the kids version of the book, which I plan on getting and reading to the kids. Hopefully that will answer a lot of their questions and better help them understand where their baby brother is now.
I know the days and months ahead will be hard. Especially these next five months until Matthew's due date. But I am trusting that the bad days will get fewer and further between. I know we will never "get over" Matthew. We will never forget him or move on from this. It is a part of us now and I am willing to accept that. My biggest prayer is that God will use Matthew's life to further His kingdom. That somehow our pain can help someone else. My dear friend Ali, who herself has buried four sweet babies, shared with me something someone told her once: I can let this make me bitter or I can let it make me better. And I am choosing better...
