Yesterday

A heart torn, so bare and free

left dangling from a tree.

Sways to and fro ‘till tomorrows be.

Hung by contentment’s need.

Thin and lean by some deed,

a childish glare without the glee;

on the willows bend, they faint.

Under the load which barren be

whisper a song old and sweet.

A Mothers Warning...

I have been thinking about what to say. It's too cliché to say there are no words, no sentences to fully describe the circumstances. I barely made it through the blog one time. My whole body seemed to convulse, every inch of my being seized and I felt as though something had reached deep inside my body and ripped me apart. And that is just the beginning. With that being said, I strongly urge every mother to read it. As painful and gut-wrenching as Dana's blog is, grab a box (the WHOLE box) of Kleenex, and read about Tiggy.

Through the Valley

"He will swallow up death forever;
and the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces,
and the reproach of his people he will take away from all the earth,
for the Lord has spoken". Isaiah 25:8

The truth is, I never really wanted kids. Or, perhaps, I never thought I could have them so I had convinced myself that I did not want them. Because of that, I spent too many years festering a hardened heart. In reflection, having a stone heart was easy. With the lack of certain crucial bonds growing up, my biggest fear would be that if I did have children, I would be incapable of loving them. Now, my biggest fear is I love them so much if God, in His infinite wisdom called my children home, I wouldn't come back from it. I fear that I would be so consumed by my pain I would let it swallow me. My children are my heart, walking around outside of my body. I feel their hurt, sadness, frustration and joy, deeper and more pure than I feel my own. As I go about my day, my mind is habitually running what-ifs. With every room I enter, I scan it for potential dangers so much that I am unaware of it. With every action I take, I take with precaution. I know how fleeting this life is and I know, that our Father laid out our lives before time was set. He has ordained it all. I also understand that these babies I conceived, carried in my womb and naturally delivered, are not mine. God has seen fit to entrust them to me. Ava and Bax belong to The Lord God, as do I, my husband and every child that is called to Him.

I sat on the couch today, as my babies slept, talking to my thirteen year old niece. This is a time where God has been calling so many babies home. Because she knows the intimate sting of death, losing her baby brother. I did not want to breakdown in front of her, but I did. It was a comment I read on a post. A mommyblogger I read was in the middle of trying to decide what to bury her 22 month old son in. She couldn't get herself to let go of his favorite shirt, and there were plenty of suggestions. The one that caused me to fully cry since I heard the news, was that she should bury him in soft jammies, saying: "I'm seeing him wearing warm snuggy jammies...and your baby boy snuggled up in the arms of our Heavenly Father..." Life was so much less heartbreaking when my heart was stone. I don't think I can handle this heart of flesh. I realize that no matter how hard you try to protect your babies from every single danger, imagined or real, when our Creator calls those who are His home, He will be glorified. I have known more children that have passed away then adults, and all in such a short time. I want to yell that's it's not fair, and ask God for a time out, to pause life for just a moment so I can really tell Him how unfair it is. But... how different life would be if we never experienced this. How selfish, indulgent and indifferent we would become if we weren't reminded who we are, how we are dust. I am thankful this life is temporal, thankful that our spirit is not.

Jonathan
Baby Girl Garcia
L.S.
Charlie
Mattias