Silent

It has been two weeks since my last post...

Between the hustle and bustle of the season and the emotional roller coaster it brought, I have been silent.

We spent Christmas in Florida with our families, and I did not bring my laptop or use any computer at all while we were there...

Maybe I needed the silence.

Sometimes it feels pointless to try to write anything, because nothing explains things adequately.

But, then I am reminded how much I want the world to know my baby boy...

How I long to share how amazing he is and how I love to talk about him.

How I feel like this is a simple way to honor him.

I am grateful for family and friends that remembered and honored him this Christmas season, and I can't wait to share some special things that were done for him and us.

I hope your Christmas was also filled with love, and that you were keenly aware of the Baby who came and changed everything.

:)

A Christmas Poem

It's impossible for me to wipe away the tears, but I still find this poem very special. Thank you to my GriefShare leader, Ellen, who gave it to me.

My First Christmas in Heaven
Author Unknown


I see the countless Christmas trees around the world below
With tiny lights, like Heaven's stars, reflecting on the snow
The sight is so spectacular, please wipe away the tear
For I am spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year.

I hear the many Christmas songs that people hold so dear
But the sounds of music can't compare
with the Christmas choir up here.

I have no words to tell you, the joy their voices bring,
For it is beyond description, to hear the angels sing.
I know how much you miss me, I see the pain inside your heart
But I am not so far away, we really aren't apart.

So be happy for me, dear ones, you know I hold you dear.
And be glad I'm spending Christmas
with Jesus Christ this year.

I sent you each a special gift, from my heavenly home above.
I sent you each a memory of my undying love.
After all, love is a gift more precious than pure gold
It was always most important in the stories Jesus told.

Please love and keep each other, as my Father said to do
For I can't count the blessing or love he has for each of you
So have a Merry Christmas and wipe away that tear
Remember, I am spending Christmas
with Jesus Christ this year.

You Are Nine Months Old, Baby Boy!

Sweet Ethan,

We took "baby boy blue" balloons to your grave today.

They are bouncing around in the wind, reminding us you are not dead--- you are absolutely full of life!

And we went to the Compassionate Friends Worldwide Candle Lighting tonight... it is an annual event held to remember and honor children who have passed from this life to the next.

Our favorite part of the evening?

Your name was called out:

"Ethan Carter Lane"

And Daddy, Sissy and I walked up on stage...

Sissy was between Daddy and I, and we all held hands...

With our free hands, Daddy and I each lit the candles we held that represented you from a beautiful big candle... and then the three of us walked with the candles back to our seats.

The room soon filled with candles burning bright...

as so many precious children were honored... including Mrs. Kay's son, Mark... and Mrs. Wendy's sister, Staci.

Today you are nine months old, Baby Boy...

I can't believe it.

Most of all, I can't believe you aren't here with us.

One day, there will be no more candle lighting...

Because we will hold you again.

We wait with great expectation for that day!

We love you and we miss you--- beyond words, beyond measure.

Love,

Mama

Not Sure... Yet Sure

I am not sure how much longer I can hold it together this holiday season...

Please, Lord, be near me.

Ethan, words cannot express how much I love and miss you... but I pray you know.

My heart aches for Home... my true home--- because it is the one where you and our other babies and Grampy and Jesus live.

Someday soon, the Lord will split the sky...

and Daddy, Sissy and I will rise... and we will all be together for eternity!

So while I am not sure how much more Christmas I can take, I am sure about this:

On the day Jesus comes back for me, my heart will be made whole.

"Mama Love Ethan!"

"Mama love Ethan!"

Oh, how I remember saying that in a sing-song voice to you, my Sweet Boy...

it was one of the ways I told you "I love you"--- a special, grammatically-incorrect way. :)

How I long to be able to say those words to you again...

To look into your big, beautiful eyes and tell you with mine just how precious you are to me...

I know you know love like I never have as you sit at the feet of the One Who is Love.

Still, I long to express mine to you...

Because I am your Mama.

Your First Snow

Sweet Ethan,

You are missing your First Snow...

I know Heaven is so much better, but I can't help it--- I am heartbroken.

You should be here, with us and your Sissy...

She should be telling you all about snow like she just told me!

She is at the office with your Daddy. I noticed little snowflakes coming down on our back patio, and called Daddy right away to have him take her outside. She got on the phone and proceeded to tell me how snow is made out of ice and water. :)

It is just starting to come down... little, tiny flakes and none on the ground yet.

Sissy's First Snow was in January of 2009, when she was four years old!

And here your first one is, when you are only a few days shy of nine months old... but not here to enjoy it.

Snow is so magical that I wonder if there is any in Heaven... without the bitter cold, of course!

I wonder about so many things in Heaven.

Most of all, I wonder what you are doing.

As your Mama, it's not good enough to just know you are happy and safe... I want details!!

I guess it has to be good enough, though, because I don't get to know the details until I meet you there.

If there is snow in Heaven, I want you to make a big snowball and throw it at Grampy!

Tell him his daughter misses him and can't wait to be with you both!

And if there isn't snow in Heaven...

it means it is nothing compared to the glory you live in.

I love you, Sweet Boy--- and miss you every single moment.

Love,

Mama

Let Grief...

"Let grief do its work. Tramp every inch of the sorrowful way. Drink every drop of the bitter cup."

--- Billy Graham, Facing Death and the Life Thereafter

To My Son

Dear Ethan,

We took some Christmas decorations out to the cemetery yesterday.

We know you will spend Christmas with Jesus, but we wanted to bring them to your marker, anyway...

because you are our son.

And we miss you so much.

How amazing it must feel to look into the eyes of the One Who came on that first Christmas Day...

To have Him hold you...

I know you are happy, Sweet Boy.

It is how I can still breathe... that and knowing I will be with you again one day.

This Christmas season has already been so hard... and we still have weeks to go before Christmas Day.

I love you, Sweet Boy.

Enjoy the arms of Jesus, Baby.

Love,

Mama

Six Months Later...

How are we doing six months after holding our precious Ethan for the last time?

Still taking it one day (or hour or second!) at a time.

There are many things I have learned over the last six months. Things I thought to be true, and now know are true.

One of them is that time DOES NOT heal all wounds.

Honestly, I hate the phrase that says it does.

If you have lost a child, you probably hate it, too.

And if you haven't, please try to understand... or at least trust that I know what I'm talking about.

Time DOES NOT heal the wound of burying your child...

of not being able to cuddle him, kiss him, tell him "I love you" or watch him grow...

of watching his Sissy alone when she should have him with her...

of waking up every morning without him, and trying to sleep knowing he won't be there the next morning, either...

Time does not heal the countless, countless, countless wounds of living without him.

Pure and simple.

Josh, Emily and I will always grieve as those who have hope... but, we will always grieve.

I feel like some of the people who love us are waiting for us to "get back to normal"... to "return to our old selves"...

Because they love us.

But, it is never going to happen.

You don't bury your child and remain the same.

My husband and I became different people on June 4, 2010.

Better people, I believe.

Ethan changed us for the better when he was alive... continues to change us for the better now... and will change us for the better forever.

My husband and I love each other more fiercely.

We know what is important in life... and what isn't.

We know the hand of God like we never have before.

We depend on Him for every breath... because there is no breathing otherwise.

There is no doing our relationship with God "halfway". We cannot survive on mediocrity. We need all of Him.

We are better parents. We know that just because we hold Emily in our arms today doesn't mean we will get to hold her in our arms tomorrow.

We know unimaginable sorrow so profoundly... and know God will use that sorrow for His Kingdom and for the good of others.

Our Ethan's life has already had an eternal impact--- and it's only been six months.

No, we will never be the same.

Our Ethan is too special for that.

Thank you, Lord.

And thank you to those who love us... for doing so.

There Is A Boy

there is a boy

who has captured our hearts

and holds them in Heaven

until we hold him again


we call him Son

(Picture taken May 24, 2010)

Missing you, tonight, Sweet Ethan... as always.

I love you.

Another Day...

without our son.

We live in an agony I will never be able to describe.

But, I added a new song to the blog this morning, because we are beyond grateful that There Will Be A Day...


Ethan on June 3, 2010... the evening before he met Jesus face to face

Your Sissy Is Six Years Old Today!!!

Dear Ethan,

I love you and I miss you! You're my Favorite One!

Did you know your Sissy's six??

Love,

Sissy


Mama and Daddy let me open one of my presents from them as soon as I woke up this morning!

Pumpkins For Ethan And His Sissy

I'm a little late posting this, but here are pictures of the pumpkins we got for Ethan and Emily at the pumpkin patch on October 23rd.


On the hayride--- Mama holding Ethan's, Daddy holding Sissy's


Sissy and Daddy getting the seeds out to roast


Daddy and Sissy were trying to carve a heart in Ethan's (because he has a new heart in Heaven), but it didn't quite turn out... whoops! Sissy wanted a heart in hers, too, and that didn't work, either! They both got happy faces on the other side instead. :)


Sissy and Daddy giving each other a high five for a job well done

Oh, Ethan, how we miss you!!

Grandpa and Ethan

Josh's dad was smitten from the start! :)

Here he is, beaming the afternoon Ethan was born...


... and getting his picture taken with his only grandson the next day.

The Indescribable Bond

For Ethan and his Sissy, it was there from the very beginning.



Watching cartoons together on March 30, 2010 (well, okay, Sissy watching, Ethan just cuddling!).

A Lamb, A Monkey, And A Sweet Baby

Ethan at two weeks old (March 26, 2010). He is with his little lamb from our good friend Linda, and his monkey blanket from our good friend Beverly.

How can it be, Sweet Boy, that you are not here with us?...

As always, I ache to be able to tell you I love you...

Ethan's Little Pumpkin

Here is the little pumpkin we got for Ethan when we went to the pumpkin patch on October 23rd. We got him a big pumpkin like Sissy's, too, but kept that one at home for him!

Dear Lord

Emily and Daddy are in the other room, and I can hear her asking him why her little brother died.

Is that really something a five-year-old should have to wonder??

Lord, I know You know what You are doing...

But I don't think I'll ever understand this side of Heaven.

I still can't believe I'm even breathing...

How do I wake up every morning knowing I've buried my son?

It is a miracle I can do this... a miracle I can breathe, a miracle I can function at all.

I am experiencing You in a way I never have before... and frankly, in a way I would never choose to.

I love you, Lord.

Please kiss my sweet boy for me.

Why Didn't He? (Warning: Raw)

I re-organized Emily's keepsakes tonight into new boxes.

I have been dreading this... I knew it would be so special to reflect on Emily's life so far, but that at the same time it would be a slap in the face of everything we will never get to have with Ethan.

No artwork, no birthday/holiday cards, no Sunday School papers, no letters to or from Santa or the Tooth Fairy, no awards, certificates, or programs, no ticket stubs from baseball games, theme parks, plays... no handmade cards to Mama and Daddy saying, "I love you"...

I expected a flood of emotions.

What I didn't think about is how I would feel when I came across the mementos from Emily's heart procedures/surgery.

The hospital bracelets, the newspaper article about her world-famous heart surgeon, the Bravery Beads stuff, the get well cards...

In an instant, it was 2005 again, and I remembered the fear.

The fear of losing her.

She had her first procedure at three-and-a-half months old.

Five years later, we feared losing Ethan.

And the same procedure that his sister handled so well killed him, when he was almost three months old.

Actually, the anesthesia for the procedure.

Five years ago, Emily also made it through another cardiac cath with balloon angioplasty at 10 months, and open-heart surgery at 11 months.

And her little brother didn't even make it through the anesthesia for the first one.

Yes, his heart was worse than Emily's. But, after he died, their cardiologist told us you could take 10 other babies with hearts just like Ethan's, and this wouldn't have happened--- that's how rare this is.

Why couldn't God protect Ethan like he protected Emily????

Or rather, why didn't he?

You see, one of the hardest things to accept is that God could have intervened and let Ethan stay here with us.

And he chose not to.

I don't believe for a second I am any less of a Christian because I have a hard time with this.

I am a grieving mother, pure and simple.

I don't know how to put it into words, but I need to try...

When I looked through her stuff, I thanked God for what he did for her--- and us. I can't even begin to explain how precious she is, and always has been, to us.

At the same time, I felt incredible, horrible agony that he did not do it for her little brother, too.

Yes, I know Heaven is the ultimate best for everyone. I know Ethan is living in complete joy and fulfillment.

But I am his Mama.

And I just want him here with me.

Five Months Ago Today

My Sweet Boy,

Five months ago today, God welcomed you into His presence forever...

And we will never be the same.

We are so grateful that the joy you are experiencing is beyond what we could ever imagine...

We remind ourselves of your happiness often, because we miss you so much.

One day, in place of the unbearable pain we feel, there will be Restoration.

We will live with you and the God Who loves you forever.

Ethan, you are so, so loved...

And we are so, so proud to be your family.

Remain... Let...

I am grateful for my husband.

Emily had to be taken to the pediatrician today, unexpectedly.

This wasn't the first time since Ethan went to Heaven, but that doesn't make it any easier, so I begged Josh to go with me. I just couldn't do it alone.

Because Emily's pediatrician is Ethan's, too.

When we got there, it was pure torture. All I could think about is all the many times we brought Ethan.

Josh even unknowingly sat in the same chair in the waiting room that I had on Ethan's last visit (Josh hadn't been able to join me that day)--- Tuesday, June 1st... just three days before Ethan went to be with Jesus.

I remember sitting in that chair and placing Ethan in front of me in his car seat... using my foot to gently rock him in it... getting a phone call from UAB while I was waiting, to tell me what time he needed to be there Friday morning and what time he needed to stop nursing so his little tummy would be empty... telling Emily she couldn't play with the other kids in the waiting room because we couldn't risk getting her little brother sick before his surgery...

The whole reason we were at the pediatrician that day was to get Ethan cleared for the surgery, to make sure his cold was gone (which it was). We were so careful with him...

And we lost him anyway.

Today was torture. So, before Emily was called back to an exam room, my sweet husband told his quietly crying wife to leave. That he would call me when they were done and I could come back and pick them up.

And I did...

Because I am a coward.

I drove around for a while, then ducked into our local library.

I stood in front of the displays of featured books, thumbing through them sadly.

Ethan's Life Verse is Psalm 37:5. "Commit your way to the Lord; trust also in Him and He will bring it to pass."

I read it almost every day of my pregnancy, when I was worried about miscarrying him or something else going wrong and us losing him in the womb. I wrote it out and brought it to the hospital for his birth, and taped it to his bassinet as soon as I could after he was born. It was there when he was diagnosed with the heart defect the next day. And it took on a whole new meaning when they put it in the helicopter with him when they flew him to the University Hospital NICU on his fourth day of life. (They transferred him there because they thought they might have to do an emergency heart procedure, but were wrong--- they just couldn't see things well enough). It stayed taped on his NICU bassinet until he was discharged a few days later. And when Ethan went to Heaven, we typed it on the special memorial bulletin we handed out at his service.

Then today, when I was thumbing through a book at the library, there it was.

With an explanation after it about remaining calm and letting God work.

Ethan's Life Verse... telling me how to live in the wake of losing him.

Remain calm and let God work.

Yes, God... I get it.

When I feel panicky about losing my son, I will remain calm and let You work.

When I long for good things to keep coming from his life, and for You to comfort me even as it doesn't seem possible that I can be comforted, I will remain calm and let You work.

Thank You for using my son to minister to me still.

Ethan's Marker Is Almost Complete!

Ethan's new picture arrived about two weeks ago, and it is beautiful!

For those of you who read an earlier post, you might remember me mentioning that the picture on the right side of the marker was going to be replaced (we didn't like how it had turned out--- they put a black background behind it which required them to make some other changes, and it just didn't look like our Ethan).

I would like to take this opportunity to say that we love Paula, the manager at the cemetery and the one we purchased everything through... she has been such a blessing to us! We know we are probably high maintenance. :)

Now, all we are waiting for is the custom granite (it will be black and have Ethan's very own handprints and footprints etched into it)!

By the way, Emily adores cleaning her Little Brother's "special place"... she begs for the brush every day!

We Said Hello

We said hello
Never dreaming that just three months later we would say goodbye

Jesus chose to fix your broken heart in Heaven
By breaking ours down here

One day the goodbye will be hello again
And our hearts will be fixed, too

Loving Us Well

Josh, Emily and I want to say thank you...

Thank you to our friends, family, church family, and medical professionals for loving us so well...

Thank you for your acts of kindness...

Your gifts in memory and honor of our sweet Ethan...

Your expertise...

Your tenderness...

Your patience...

Your tears...

Your faith in Our God...

and for crying out to Him on our behalf.

You are vessels of God's grace to us... His comfort to us in human form... and representatives of His love.

We are grateful for you... and we know Ethan is glad his Mama, Daddy and Sissy have so many people who love them.

We love you, too!

Mama Loves You!

Missing you tonight, Sweet Boy...

As always.

I never knew my heart could physically ache like this...

Or that it was even possible to feel this much pain.

I love you, My Ethan.

One day you will look up at me with those big blue eyes again, and say the word I never got to hear you say on this earth, but long to...

You will call me "Mama".

And as I hold you for eternity, this present pain will be only the blink of an eye.

Come quickly, Lord Jesus.

Love, Mama

Dear Ethan,

We just got home from your "special place". We know you aren't really there, but we can't help but go every day, anyway.

Tonight, Sissy and I sat by your grave and sang songs to you, raising our voices and faces to Heaven, like we always do when we sing to you... because we know that's where you really are.

We sang "You Are My Sunshine" first, then "Jesus Loves Me"--- the only song I ever really sang to you when you were here with us. For some reason, I never sang any other... I just repeated that one over and over again.

Looking back, I'm not sure there could have been a better choice. Because when you met Him face to face, you saw how true that song really is.

So, after Sissy and I sang those, she started making up songs about God for us to sing.

And informing me I was singing them incorrectly.

She is a very bossy worship leader! :)

I told her how one day in Heaven, you and her will sing songs to Jesus together.

Oh, Ethan... how wonderful that day will be when we are finally together again--- and for eternity!

After singing, Daddy, Sissy and I prayed like we always do... for God to help us make it through another day, and for amazing things to come from your life.

Ethan, I want you to know He is answering those prayers every day.

We not only make it through each day, but already amazing things have come from your life.

I love you, Sweet Boy...

Beyond measure, forever.

Love,

Mama

From Ethan's Daddy

As a father and a husband, you spend so much of your time trying to convince your family it's going to be okay. But, how do you stand tall when you've been sucker-punched and you're just trying to catch your own breath?

This race that we're now running is not only long, but it's completely isolated. The most sympathetic people struggle to only imagine what it feels like to hold your dead son in your arms, as blood trickles from places it shouldn't. Yes, that's my nightmare! Though I would not trade the time we spent with Ethan after he was welcomed Home to Heaven, I can't shake the feel of his cold face against my lips. Morbid, I know... but, in a way, a treasure. It's what I have left.

You see, when I lost Ethan, I lost more than a son who held my heart--- I lost a big part of me. I became a man who wears two faces--- one that is so broken it yearns for death, the other a small, annoying nag that won't let me quit. I know Ethan doesn't need me now, for he has Jesus. Even though I need him. But his sister needs me, and for her I will carry on. I do not want her to have lost her brother and me at the same time.

I know most people do not understand this, but he was my miracle. I longed to see his day. I prayed for a son my entire life. His sister will never know this (and I would not trade her for the world--- she is my heart, my love for her knows no bounds--- I can't express my love for her, but they both represent a different part of me), but I wanted a boy first--- so he could protect his sissy.

When I lost Ethan, I lost more than my baby--- I lost my son, and I lost a big part of myself that has existed for as long as I can remember. Ethan was the epitome of all I had hoped for, my dreams, my fantasies, and my future... we were all waiting for the day of his arrival.

I loved him before he existed. Then, when he was born, he was all I hoped for and more. He was a dream come true to the 100th power. I was overcome by him. My past expectation and wonder met the most perfect embodiment of a son anyone could ask for. When my dreams met reality, and reality was beyond compare... I was complete. I was happy. For the first time, amidst all the heartache I have been through, it all came together in Ethan, his sister, and his mommy. I was, for the first time, completely whole. My family was complete--- all the pieces fit together.

I had my daughter, who I must confess, is truly my heart--- I love her so much. I had Ethan, the embodiment of all I hoped for, made perfect before me. I had their mom, in which I have pledged my life. This equaled wholeness.

Now I am incomplete.

I just want to tell him:

Son, Ethan, I needed you. I need you. You don't understand how much I need you. How I long to hold you, to kiss you. To tell you again how much I love you. The thought of never being able to tell you I love you rips out what's left of my shambled heart after your death. Life is a cruel joke... for while it feels like in just a minute I will be able to hold you, it never comes.

It's like something dangling right in front of me, and with all my might I lunge forward--- and fall right on my face, for you are just out of reach. You're such a real reality... yet, it feels utterly hopeless.

But I wait on, until we are reunited again.

Everyone acts like you will automatically at some point be mad at God. But, it's my heart that is decimated--- not my faith. I can be in torment and still love God more now than ever. I'm in torment, yet I love Emily and my wife more now than ever!

I want to know God deeper than I ever have. I want to see the face and rest in the arms of the One who holds my son.

When all is said and done, only One really knows my pain, and it's Jesus. As much as my wife and I are the only two humans that truly know our story best, I still do not understand fully what it was like--- and is like--- to be Ethan's mom.

So I will forever hold her hand as we run together, and I will thank God when He holds her hand when our track divides.

But, most importantly, we will both hold the hand of the Only One who is Faithful and True. Though we see but through a glass, cloudy--- one day we will see face to face and all will become clear. I long to see the God of Restoration... but, what I long for even more than that is to hear the words, "Well done Thou good and faithful servant"--- not "You made it by the skin of your teeth", but "Well done". With that, everything will be right. Down here, not everything turns out well. One of these days, every wrong will be righted. One of these days, everything will be made correct. Heaven will be right. Things will just be right.

Happy 7 Months, Sweet Ethan Carter!

Oh, Baby Boy...

Seven months old today--- I can't believe it!

And I can't believe you're not here with us.

When I get to Heaven, I'll have a lot of kisses to give you to make up for the ones I can't give you here... good thing we'll have eternity!

I am so proud of you, Ethan.

My heart bursts with pride that I am your Mama... and aches because I am your Mama and I can't be with you right now.

I love you and miss you, Sweet Boy... sit with Jesus and let Him tell you a story...

Ethan Gets Sugar At Church

Ethan's last time at church was Sunday, May 30, 2010.

It was Movie Night that evening, and during intermission, Ethan was entertained by Mrs. Letitia... and Ethan loved her!

A precious picture of a precious moment...

Daddy, Just In Case You Ever Wonder...

I know exactly who you are.

(Daddy and Ethan, May 23, 2010)

Moments Like This

May 10, 2010



It's simple moments like this I sometimes miss the most.

Ethan and I were waiting for his Sissy to get out of dance and gymnastics...

I had just nursed him (very discreetly) in the car, so his little belly was all full...

I remember feeling so content, so happy, so thankful...

and giving him so many kisses.

Worth A Thousand Words

We never had a professional family portrait taken with Ethan, and that brings us so much pain...

When Emily drew this today, it brought me so much joy...

Ethan Turns Six Months Old

My heart is so heavy.

Once again, words fail to express the pain.

Ethan turned six months old on Sunday, September 12th.

We do not say he would have turned six months old, we say he is six months old--- because he is alive. And since we do not know exactly how old he is in Heaven, we will continue to count his age the only way we know how.

As every mother (and father) knows, there is just something about your baby turning six months old.

On Ethan's six-month birthday, we did not get to marvel at how fast he has grown up or give him his first bite of cereal. There were no cute pictures to mark this precious milestone... and no big smiles or slobbery kisses.

But even though Ethan is in Heaven, there is just something about him turning six months old.

So instead of sweet pictures, rice cereal, and talk of how time flies... instead of the kisses and smiles we ache for...

There was a balloon... a homemade card from his Sissy... a teddy she chose so carefully... many, many tears...

And a prayer that God would tell Ethan how much we love him.

Ethan's marker on his six-month birthday (the current granite is just temporary until the custom black granite with his handprints and footprints etched in it arrives... also, the ceramic picture on the right is being redone--- we wanted it with its original background, like it is on the blog):



"IT IS A PRIVILEGE TO BE YOUR FAMILY. NOT THE END."

Your Hands

Ethan (Seven Weeks Old) and Mama, April 30, 2010



Would your hands have held tight to mine as you took your first steps?

Or shaped the towers of a little sand castle until they were just right?

Would your hands have scooped up bugs and put them in a jar?

Or made lots of sticky messes for Mama to clean up?

Would your hands have made a snowball to throw at Sissy?

Or grabbed hers on Christmas morning as you looked for presents under the tree?

Would your hands have thrown a baseball to Daddy?

Or given him a high-five after a game?

Would your hands have hugged the neck of a friend when they were sad?

Or even someone you barely knew?

Would your hands have reached in your pocket to help a person in need?

Or served a meal to a hungry stranger in a soup kitchen?

Would your hands have made music in church?

Or discovered a cure for a deadly disease?

Would your hands have slipped a ring on the finger of your new wife?

Or felt her tummy when your child kicked inside her womb?

Would your hands have squeezed hers tightly as you shared the miracle of your baby's birth?

Or wiped tears from your own son's face one day?

Would your hands have welcomed the weight of your new granddaughter as she rested in your arms?

Or clasped in prayer as you thanked God for all His blessings?

Ethan, I will never have the privilege of holding your hand on Earth again.

I miss your hands. I miss you.

Hold the hand of Jesus, Sweet Boy.

Though I ache to have you with me, and I mourn what you will not do here, I must remember there is nothing more beautiful than you holding the hand of the One who gave you to me.

Oh, how I love you.

Safe In Daddy's Arms

Daddy and Ethan, April 23, 2010



Ethan was always safe in his Daddy's arms...

And we know he is now safe in the arms of his Heavenly Father.

Holy Spirit, invade my life.

Cover me with Your comfort.

Saturate my heart with Your Truth.

And remind us Ethan will be in our arms again one day... and it will be the beginning of forever.

I Am That Mother

Her child plays with yours on the playground, but she fumbles with her purse or her phone, and doesn't seem to want to introduce herself or even make eye contact...

Because she is terrified you will want to make small talk about each other's kids--- as if everything is fine and one of hers is not buried in the ground.

She averts her eyes when you walk by her in the grocery store...

Because you have your baby with you--- and she knows she never will.

She is friendly when you speak to her, yet her eyes hold a deep sadness and there is something about her smile you just can't figure out...

Because it is all she can do to pay for her purchases without weeping uncontrollably.

She is so proud when you tell her that her daughter is precious...

And wishes you could have met her son, so you would know he is precious, too.

You ask her how she's doing, and she tells you she's fine...

Because she's not sure if you really want to know.

She knows you love her, and she loves you, too.

But still, she feels so incredibly alone...

Because with every breath, she aches for her son.

A Fitting Holiday

Ethan was too little to go to church on Easter, so he stayed home with Mama.

We never imagined it would be his only Easter...

or the only holiday we would ever share with him on Earth.

When you think about it, it is a fitting holiday for our precious Ethan.

After all, Easter is how our Ethan still lives... and why this separation is only temporary.

Ethan, may your only holiday here always be a special reminder to us of the hope we have.

I love you, my Sweet Boy... oh, how it must feel to see the face of the One Who rose from the dead on that very first Easter!

(Warning: Raw Emotion)

So much sadness, so many tears.

There really are no words to express the agony we feel.

My husband cried for Ethan in the middle of lunch at Pizza Hut the other day.

In the middle of the night that night, I sobbed silently in our bed...

and then heard Emily crying for Ethan in hers, too.

Today, I took Emily to the tree house play area in the mall...

but could only bear to stay 15 minutes, because there was a little boy there.

Last night, Emily cried when I picked her up from Dance and Gymnastics because a little girl had made fun of her during class.

I know the girl was just being a kid and I told Emily all the right things... but secretly, I wanted to find the little girl's parents and explain to them that my daughter just lost her baby brother--- that she is dealing with enough right now and doesn't need other kids being mean to her just because they feel like it.

I look in the mirror, and I don't look the same anymore.

And why should I?

My eyes have seen my dead son.

My lips have kissed my dead son.

My arms have held my dead son.

Ethan was ripped from us.

And there is no getting him back in this life.

Thank God for the next.

Grief is ugly...

there really are no words.

Ethan, Do You Know?

Ethan Carter on May 24, 2010



Ethan, do you know...

you are more perfect than we could have ever imagined you would be?

Do you know...

it is absolutely impossible to measure our love for you?

Do you know...

in your short time here, you changed everything?

Do you know...

that the pain of losing you on Earth could never compare to the pain of missing out on you in the first place?

Do you know...

your Sissy cries for you in the middle of the night?

Do you know...

she knows so much more about Heaven and Jesus, because of you?

Do you know...

Daddy and I pray together more than we ever have before, because of you?

Do you know...

that the MOMENT you were born, I understood the incredible bond and special relationship between a mother and her son?

Do you know...

Daddy's still convinced he would have ended up being your favorite? :)

We love you, Sweet Boy... and we wait impatiently for Reunion Day!

Come quickly, Lord Jesus!

Still My Child

Ethan sleeps in his crib for the first time (March 18, 2010)...



I always check on my children one last time before crawling into bed at night. It doesn't matter if I just checked on them five minutes earlier... if I then go and do anything else, I've got to check on them again, right before I climb into bed. I've talked to other mothers about this, and I know I'm not the only one.

When I was pregnant with Ethan, I realized I had started checking on him, too... or his nursery, anyway. There he was, in my own tummy, and I still went into his nursery every night, right after I left his sister's room! Okay, I think I hear chuckling now... :)

After Ethan was born, I stopped checking his room, because he slept in his crib in our room... something I cherished then, and that is priceless now.

I always checked on him right before I layed down, even though I had usually been nursing him in our bed just a minute or two earlier. Seriously, my husband can vouch for the fact that if one second passed between laying him down and lying down myself, that little boy was getting checked on! Just like with his sister, I'd lower my head next to his, so I could hear him breathing...

What I wouldn't give to hear him breathing again.

Since Ethan went to live in his new home with Jesus, my routine has changed a little. I still check on Emily right before I lie down, but now hearing her breathe isn't good enough. Now, I have to lay my hand on her chest and feel her heart beating.

Because I lost Ethan when his wouldn't.

And I check Ethan's room, right after I leave hers, because he is no longer in mine...

But is still my child.

Ethan and Grammy

Ethan at one week old with his Grammy (March 19, 2010)... no words necessary! :)

Snuggle Babies

Sissy and Ethan, Snuggling with Mama on April 28th, 2010





Oh, Ethan, how I long to snuggle with you and Sissy this morning... and every morning! Missing you, as always...

I love you, Sweet Boy...

We Love You, Sweet Boy!

Ethan and his Sissy meet for the first time, just minutes after his birth...



Dear Ethan,

Mama loves you, Sweet Boy!

It is getting harder and harder to get out of bed in the morning... but, your Sissy, who I know you love so very much, makes it possible! I know you know what a bright and shining light she is!

In the last few days before you went to Heaven, you seemed especially smitten with her (or at least we were able to see it even more)! The way you looked at her, your eyes fixed on her every move around you... precious... and she definitely got your smiles! Your beautiful, beautiful smiles...

Ethan, I can't help but mourn the relationship you and Emily would have continued to build over the years, though I know you will have it in Heaven. She was in love with you from the time you were in my tummy, and I know you have always felt that love.

Remember the raspberries she did on my tummy all day, every day? We called it her farting on you! It sounds funny when I write it, but it was so, so beautiful. She couldn't WAIT for you to get here, Baby Boy...

The truth is, we had all been waiting for you our entire lives.

Ethan, there is something else that helps me get out of bed in the morning. It is the promise that we WILL be together again... and I long for that day. I long for the Rapture, when your Daddy and I will hold ALL of our children together, for the first time. And there will be no goodbyes, ever.

Losing you in this life, Ethan, feels so unbearable. The fact that I can even function is a complete mystery to me. I guess it has something to do with the fact that I grieve, but I grieve as one who has hope... because I know I will see you again.

And then, for the very first time, I will hear you say, "I love you, Mama".

I love you, Ethan, and your place in our family will never change or be filled. My arms will always have an empty spot that belongs to you, and my heart will never be whole in this life.

I know you are safe, Ethan, and being loved perfectly as you enjoy the arms of Jesus. You are the Little Brother in Heaven, too, just as you are on Earth! I know even as Daddy, Sissy and I mourn your absence here, Sammy, Asher and MacKenzie rejoice that you are with them! I guess you aren't able to cause mischief in Heaven, but I would sure like to see it! :)

I love you, Sweet Boy!!

Love,

Mama

He Knew

A truth has burned in my heart since we lost Ethan... it is one of the very, very few things that bring me comfort. And it has rested on me today as a heavy weight...

June 4th, 2010 did not take God by surprise.

He was not sitting in Heaven wringing his hands when Ethan went into cardiac arrest that morning.

He did not cry out in disbelief, "Oh, no! What do we do now?!"

No.

He knew every detail of June 4th on June 3rd.

He knew before He even created Ethan.

He knew before He created me, before He created my husband... before He created the world.

Nothing--- NOTHING--- takes Him by surprise.

My husband and I do not believe it was God's perfect will for Ethan to die. We believe His perfect will for Ethan was to still be in our arms.

But, God did allow it to happen.

He allowed our son to die.

He could have intervened by saving his life (on Earth), or preventing the cardiac arrest in the first place, and He chose not to.

As much as this angers me, it also brings me comfort.

Why?

Because if I know He was ABLE to keep Ethan here with us, then I know He didn't because He DECIDED not to... that He made a decision, for a reason, to bring my son home to His arms instead of allow him to stay in mine...

My son didn't die because God was caught off guard and just didn't know what to do.

God, and God alone, holds the keys to death and the grave.

Satan, what you meant for our harm is being turned into a beautiful, fragrant offering to Our God...

And my tears only water the seeds of Ethan's life... a life that points to Jesus.

12 Weeks

Ethan the evening before he went to Heaven, at the hotel pool with Mama, Daddy and Sissy!



Ethan met Jesus 12 weeks ago today...

when he was exactly 12 weeks old.

That means from now on, he will have been out of our arms longer than he was in them...

It is, as my father-in-law said the day of Ethan's wake, ridiculous.

Ethan should be here with us.

It feels as if he has been part of our family forever. He was loved beyond measure from the moment we knew we were pregnant. And then when we saw him for the first time, we realized we hadn't even gotten started!! We were smitten--- all of us!

He spent nine months in my womb, 12 weeks in our arms, and is now spending eternity with Jesus.

Sometimes dates are full of meaning, and sometimes they aren't. I would like to share how I feel about this line we are crossing today--- the one that says we have now been without him longer than we have been with him (in our arms):

It means pretty much nothing to me.

What I mean is, it doesn't diminish the time we had with him, or make the future any easier, or enable us to be further along in "the grief process"...

He is our son.

If we live another 70 years on this Earth without him, it will not make it any easier. They say you eventually adjust to the grief--- learn how to live with it--- and we are trusting that is true. But the fact that we have been without him longer than we've been with him will never make it easier or make him less real to us.

How can he be less real? He is still alive.

Mama, Daddy and Sissy love you, Ethan... See you soon, Sweet Boy!!

Ethan's Butterfly

A beautiful butterfly was dedicated to, and released in honor of, our precious Ethan Carter yesterday... so, so special! Thank you, Rachel!

Triplet Butterfly Wings: Ethan Carter: "Ethan Carter Lane Born March 12, 2010; met Jesus face to face on June 4, 2010, at just 12 weeks old. He is, and always will be, Mama's Boy,..."

No Eye Has Seen

Ethan on his last Sunday (May 30, 2010), heading to church... "Look at me lifting my legs! I'm such a big boy, Mama!"


"No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for Ethan."
--- 1 Corinthians 2:9 (Mama's Paraphrase of the NIV)

I love you, Sweet Boy, and am missing you, as always. Enjoy the arms of Jesus...

That's Mine

I took Emily to McDonald's for lunch today after a morning spent at the dentist and the library.

Of course, we had to do the PlayPlace (really the only reason we even go there!), and when it was time to go, I told Emily we needed to leave and started to gather our trash. She was up inside one of the tunnels with a new little friend.

As I was at the nearby trash can, she called out, "Okay, Mama!" Then she instantly turned to the little girl and said, "That's mine" in a content, super-proud little voice.

As in, "That's My Mama."

Wow.

My heart did that little lurch... you know, the one where you realize it is walking around outside of your body in the form of the little ones you gave birth to...

It was one of those moments I'll treasure, even though she doesn't even realize she said anything special.

As we headed toward the car, I couldn't help but think about how Ethan will never turn to a friend and say, "That's mine."

And my heart ached... because not only is it walking around outside of my body in the form of the little ones I gave birth to, it is also walking around on streets of gold in Heaven.

Because when Ethan left, he took so much of it with him.

No, I will never hear him tell people I am his Mama on Earth.

But, I pray that one day, when I get to Heaven, he turns to those around him and says, in a content, super-proud voice...

"That's mine."

Beautiful Music

"The mention of my child's name may bring tears to my eyes, but it never fails to bring music to my ears. If you really are my friend, please don't keep me from hearing this beautiful music: It soothes my broken heart and fills my soul with love."

I am grateful to a fellow blogging mom who also lost her son for this perfect way to say how much I need to hear and talk about my son. I read it tonight and thought, "That's me! That's me!"

Hearing Ethan's name is the best kind of therapy!

He Will Tell Me

Dear Ethan,

I'm missing you, Sweet Boy--- as always!

Daddy and Sissy and I went to the beach for a few days--- to a place called Destin, Florida. We got home tonight, and brought a painted shell to your "special place" for you.

Your Sissy had so much fun "surfing" at the beach, playing in the sand, finding little fish and throwing them back in the water, swimming at the hotel pool...

The three of us talked about you constantly--- as usual! And, as usual, you were always in our thoughts... every second.

We mourn that you will never dip your feet in the ocean, see the sun set over the water, build little castles in the sand... that you never saw a fish (or any animal!)... that you will never take a beach vacation with us, your family.

Ethan, do you know how proud I am to be your Mama??

I must have made your Daddy reassure me a million times this week that you were having even more fun in Heaven than we were at the beach. "Promise me!", I said, over and over again.

Your Daddy was very patient. :)

I love you, Baby Boy. I long to hold you and smell your sweet baby smell... to nurse you... to smother you with kisses... to touch your little chin with my finger or sing your name to see you smile...

I ache for you every single moment.

I think to myself that God better have had a really, really good reason for bringing you home to Him instead of leaving you here with us.

And you know what?

He did.

And I believe--- I trust--- that one day when I see Him face to face as you do now, He will tell me what it was.

I love you, Ethan--- beyond words.

Love,

Mama

God Himself

It is raining outside... pouring, really.

My heart is heavy... yet, isn't it always?

Ethan's grave marker is here.

I can't believe I just wrote that.

I read about a family today who is taking their son home--- to die, maybe.

Where are you, God?

"Right where I've always been."

And it's true. I don't understand His ways, but He is still good.

We are grateful to be loved by so many as we walk through this valley of death--- of losing our precious son.

I only ask that you are patient with us.

We cannot rush our grief.

And I know it makes some people uncomfortable. But, God Himself grieved the death of His Son--- and always will.

And He will experience Restoration one day, too.

Come quickly, Lord Jesus.

Happy Five Months, Sweet Boy!

My Sweet, Sweet Ethan,

Wow... you are five months old today!

I wish so much you were here, but I know you are enjoying the arms of Jesus. Your Daddy says now that you've seen the face of Jesus, you don't want to come back to us even if you could. He is right, and we both take comfort in that. Because as much as we long for you, as much as it hurts to be without you...

We are so glad you don't feel the same way.

We are glad you don't miss us--- that you aren't feeling the separation like we are.

You are our baby, our precious son, and we take comfort in knowing that while you will rejoice when we come to you one day and live forever with you, you don't ache for us in the meantime.

We are grateful you know no pain, no sorrow, no broken heart...

And we can't wait to be with you again.

So enjoy the arms of Jesus, Sweet Boy...

And know I can't wait to hold you in mine again one day.

I love you--- beyond measure.

Love,

Mama

Two Pictures I Love

Just wanted to post a couple pictures of my sweet boy!


Ethan at one week old--- so beautiful!


Ethan at two weeks old... notice who he is looking at--- his Sissy!

I Still Know

I struggled to get out of bed this morning... to face another day without my son.

As my husband came in to kiss me goodbye, I told him, "I'm having a rough day already... It's just never going to be any different... It's never going to be any better, because I will never have my son back (on Earth)..."

All he could say is, "I know...", because he feels the same pain.

Last night, as we lay in bed with our backs to each other (my husband is not a "cuddler" when he sleeps, he needs his "space" to be able to sleep, much to my dismay!), I heard him quietly sobbing... and it broke my heart all over again.

I told him how badly I hurt for him... I hurt for myself, for him, for our daughter, for our families...

Watching your husband bury his son, and sob for him in the dark of the night... it is once again impossible to describe.

We are still functioning every day... working, taking care of our daughter, running errands and maintaining our home, paying bills, getting cars fixed, going grocery shopping, going to doctor's appointments, getting together with friends (and even laughing!)... but, it is all done with hearts that are dying inside and eyes that are full of tears when no one is watching... and a daily trip to the cemetery.

I know the special grace from God our sweet friends who lost their son seventeen years ago told us about is real--- otherwise, I truly believe I would have died the moment Dr. McMahon told me my son did.

And speaking of God, let me say this (Warning: It's honest):

I praise Him these days because I know He is worthy, not because I always feel like it... because, I don't.

We sing a song in church that says, "I am a friend of God... He is my friend." Well, folks, let me just tell you...

I'm not feeling very friendly.

That song is hard for me right now. So, sometimes, I skip that one. Instead of singing it, I pray silently for my heart to change. And then, usually, I am on my knees at the altar in a couple of seconds. But, I'm still not singing... now, I'm just sobbing about my son, and begging God to get me through another day.

Let me just say... I refuse to turn my back on God, but I also refuse to have a fake relationship with Him. If He and I are going to do this thing, it's going to be real.

Which brings me to my next point, one that isn't easy for me to say...

I think I'm mad at God.

I think the time has come. In an earlier post, I said I wasn't mad at Him yet, but that I wasn't making any promises about the future, either...

Well, after doing some soul-searching, I think I'm a little mad... or resentful... or something. I don't know... it's not a normal type of anger; it's hard to explain.

And I'm okay with it.

Because I still know Who My God is.

And I know I won't stay here.

It's one of the "stages of grief", I'm told... and I'm so grateful I have a God Who is the same "Before" and "After".

Listen to the song "I Am" by Nicole C. Mullen, and you'll know what I mean.

The Day the Dam Broke

"Catastrophic loss wreaks destruction like a massive flood. It is unrelenting, unforgiving, and uncontrollable, brutally erosive to mind, body, and spirit. Sometimes loss does its damage instantly, as if it were a flood resulting from a broken dam that releases a great torrent of water, sweeping away everything in its path. Sometimes loss does its damage gradually, as if it were a flood resulting from unceasing rain that causes rivers and lakes to swell until they spill over their banks, engulfing, saturating, and destroying whatever the water touches. In either case, catastrophic loss leaves the landscape of one's life forever changed.

My experience was like a dam that broke. In one moment I was overrun by a torrent of pain I did not expect."

I wanted to share the above, written by Jerry Sittser in his book "A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows Through Loss", because when a doctor came into Ethan's hospital room on the morning of June 4th and told me they were trying to resuscitate my son, the dam started cracking horrifically. And when Dr. McMahon told us he was gone, the dam broke.

And there is no putting it back together.

There is only learning how to live in the water.

Our Ethan

Emily and I made this today about our Ethan...

I cannot believe today marks two months since the last time we held him in our arms...

To play this, first scroll down to the bottom of the blog and push pause on the music player to turn off the blog's song... then scroll back up and push play on this... thanks!

A picture slideshow by Smilebox