16 Months Later

Ethan and Daddy, just hours before Ethan went to live with Jesus...




It's been a hard day.

October 4th marked 16 months since Ethan left our arms for the arms of Jesus.

16 months... how can it even be possible?

It still feels like yesterday, and I can still feel him in my arms.

16 months later, and I still wonder every day if it is indeed possible to die from a broken heart.

I still wonder how I function every day, do what I need to do, mother Emily and take care of Baby Julia in my belly...

And I know it all goes back to God's grace.

What does God's grace mean to me now?

It means strength to do the impossible--- to breathe when your child no longer breathes on this earth.

16 months have passed, but as I've said before when it comes to time, it doesn't really mean anything.

16 months later, and the love is still the same.

16 months later, and I long for him as much as I ever have.

16 months later, and he is still my sweet baby boy.

16 months later, and still my heart's cry is...

I miss him.

I Can't Believe

I can't believe tomorrow is June 4th.

I can't believe that on this date last year, we were spending our last day here on Earth with our son... and didn't even know it.

One of my first blog posts was about that day... I talked about our last family meal, at Olive Garden... I called it "Part One", because I planned to finish describing the day in a second post...

http://ethancarterlane.blogspot.com/2010/07/sweet-sweet-memories-ethan-on-june-3.html

It's a year later, and I haven't written it yet.

Maybe this weekend, I will try.

I want so much to share the rest of that last incredible day we had as a family.

But more than anything, I just want my son back.

I can't explain the longing we have for Ethan. It truly is indescribable.

I know no other pain like this... none.

And then I think of the people who don't know Christ... and will be separated from their loved ones forever.

You see, with all my unbearable pain, I bear it... because I know I will see my son again.

But there are people who will never see their children again, because they don't have a relationship with Christ... and so will be separated from Him and them for all Eternity.

Separation is the worst agony.

I thank God that by His saving grace, it can be temporary.

The Grace Of God

I feel like I am becoming silent on here...

sometimes there are long stretches between my posts, and so many times I can't muster any thoughts to share.

I guess I am afraid I am "wearing people out" with my grief.

I know for others it might seem like Ethan has been gone for a while...

But, to us, it doesn't feel that way.

And, honestly, it doesn't matter, anyway.

We are approaching nine months since he went to be with Jesus...

and it just doesn't matter.

Nine months or nineteen years...

he's still our son.

And it is impossible to describe the pain.

My husband and I talked last night about how we are experiencing the grace of God in a way we never, ever wanted to...

and it's so true.

I am breathing, I am functioning...

I am not accomplishing what I need to on any given day by any means... but I am alive.

And that, I promise you, is because of the grace of God.

He even gives me the ability to laugh...

and although many times I feel guilty about that, I am trying to recognize it for what it is:

One of God's ways of making me able to bear the unbearable pain of being without my son.

You see, He knows I can only handle so much without simply collapsing entirely under the strain... and so He gives me little reprieves...

I am able to laugh at jokes and to enjoy being with people...

though I often cry my eyes out as soon as I am alone.

The pain, after all, never goes away.

Sometimes it has to get shoved down, stuffed down...

but it is there.

I am so thankful for the many people who have prayed for us and kept our names before the Father.

We are living proof that He hears you!

Ethan, Eight Months Ago Today...

I held you in my arms for the last time on this earth.

The pain is unbearable... yet we bear it because we know you are being cared for perfectly by Jesus Christ Himself, and that we will get to spend Eternity with you.

Daddy, Sissy and I love and miss you more than words could ever, ever, ever say...

We can't wait to be with you again, Sweet Boy.

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.

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.

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!!