Grief: the good, the bad, and the ugly

* This is long, but I'm struggling tonight, so I'm journaling about what's on my heart.

Three years ago this month, Jonathan and I were consumed with our preparation for London. We were traveling to Cincinnati for doctor visits, meeting with pediatric cardiologists, going twice per week to the local hospital for fetal heart monitoring sessions. We were also trying to prepare for the month (or more) stay away from home while London recovered from her first of three open heart surgeries. It was stressful to think about how we would be there for London while still being with Jagger and meeting his needs (he had just turned 2 when she was born). We had to make arrangements for work, for our dogs at home, our mail, and so many other things.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, I packed the diaper bag with all of the things that I thought London would need...precious frilly, pink, floral outfits with matching headbands and bows; little Lacy socks to go with every outfit; plush, pink blankets; newborn diapers; pink pacifiers; a couple of little toys (probably didn't need toys, but oh well!), and a few other things. I was ready! Her room was ready. Every precious dress was hung in her closet. Every little onesie with all the prissy sayings were folded perfectly in her dresser drawers. Her little stockings were tucked away with her bloomers, socks, and hair bows. I couldn't wait to see her fat little legs crammed in a pair of stockings!! Her room was clean, brand new and was missing only one thing...her :) Our house was prepared. The bassinet was by the couch downstairs, and all the other supplies were organized in convenient places around the house. We had prayed, our entire community was praying for us, and we just felt hopeful...anxious and maybe a bit scared, but excited at the same time.

We knew that our lives were about to change. After finding out on May 14 (the day after Mother's Day) that London had a severe heart defect, we had grieved for 2 months already. At this point (late July), we had sort of taken it in and were kind of accepting the biggest, scariest news of our lives. We just wanted to see our baby girl. We knew we had big challenges, but all of that was secondary to our desire to meet our daughter...to see her little face, hold her, hug her, hear her, smell her...finally just be with her after 9 months of waiting!

The time arrived for London to be born. I was induced on Sept. 10, and London was born at 3:02 pm on Sept. 11 (memorable day already, huh?). She was so beautiful, perfect, and chubby! She looked like Jagger, she had a strong cry, and the nurses and doctors were impressed with how great she was doing. You would NEVER know that anything was wrong with her if you weren't aware. I can honestly say that I had this peace that truly surpassed all understanding. I interpreted that peace as "London was going to be fine". Looking back, maybe I was just in denial that something was "wrong" since she seemed so perfectly normal. Plus, I don't think I ever let my mind go there. I knew babies with HLHS could die, but I also just "knew" that London would not be one of them! That would certainly not happen to ME! Regardless, God did give me a wonderful sense of peace.

For two days, our lives absolutely changed in the most incredible ways. We got to be London's Mommy and Daddy. Jagger got to be the big brother, and life was great...not without worry or anxiety...but great. However, on Sept. 13 at about 8:25 pm, out worst nightmare became our reality. London did not survive her surgery.

Now, fast forward to today...

I'm just having a really bad/sad day. I'm thinking about every detail of our experience, and every aspect of London. I just miss her so terribly. This happens every month or so, yet not always to this extreme. Yesterday and today, I have just been in a sour mood - a little grumpy, anxious, stressed - but I didn't really know why. Then tonight, I looked at London's picture at home, and I just began crying - and crying - and bawling - and being consumed with my emotions...I couldn't stop. It came out of the blue, but I realized that I hadn't had a good "cry" in a while, and that's exactly what I needed to do.

I went to Jack's room (London's room) alone, sat in my glider, and just wept. That room is absolutely Jack's room now - just as it should be. However, for that moment, I just allowed myself to remember London's room - her clothes in the closet, her pink cowgirl boots on her dresser, the pink glider that I never rocked her in...I just basically let myself grieve without reservation, without worrying what Jonathan or the boys would think, without caring...and I grieved until I felt better. And I do... I feel better, I feel lighter, I feel somewhat free from the shackles of grief. That is, until the next time this happens.

As much as I hate the realization that London is not here and will NEVER be here with us, I still recognize and appreciate the fact that my grief keeps her close to me. It reminds me how much I love her, and what an impact she has on my life. If I never grieved, then I would never reflect on my love for her and her importance in my life.

It's just hard. I know that everyone has their battle. Most of us have loved and lost someone in our lives - someone who you would give anything just to have them in your arms again. Now, what do we do when we know that will never happen? Panic? Maybe. Get angry? Probably. Blame God or someone? Usually. Cry and ask 'why'? Yes, if you're normal.

But, one thing we cannot do is stay put in one of those phases of grief and sadness. Some of the phases last longer than others, and that's okay. I've gone through all of them. I've felt denial, anger, depression, anger again (anger towards God, too), bitterness, jealousy (of others with healthy babies), and more. I felt guilty for feeling some of these ways, but when you've experienced one of life's most horrible tragedies, you just can't predict how you'll feel. I never knew how powerful the journey of grief can be. I know, though, that God wants us to experience joy again. He wants us to be happy. We have to work at it, though, and that can be hard. God wants to see how we handle our challenges. Do we give up, grow bitter and hateful, or do we continue praising Him and thanking Him for all of the other wonderful things that He has given us...even in the midst of our grief? Do we use our experiences to help others and make some kind of "good" come of our tragedy? His ways are not our ways, and He sees the big picture. I wish I could see the big picture sometimes, don't you? I am so thankful that I know that I know that I know that I will see London again. That's reason enough to continue praising God in the midst of my grief. He is good, and He is faithful (even when I am not).

Whew...I sure feel better after writing that book and getting all of my feelings off of my chest! Wake up, if you fell asleep reading that!!! Until next time...