Welcome

We have a new baby. I'm still recovering from the surgery and sick from some kind of infection. I have a chubby little boy attached to me 97% of the time. I haven't blogged in months... Yet somehow I felt drawn here today. I don't know why, but maybe it will happen more often. I don't have any good excuses for not updating the blog since November- I really have nothing. All I can say is it's hard to put myself here sometimes. I can't help but think of this as "Holden's blog", even now. I feel somehow wrong posting about our lives continuing here, when it seems as though time should have stopped on July 7th.

Time doesn't stop. The world doesn't stop spinning, even when it feels like the universe is upside down. God continues to bless our lives in unimaginable ways, every single day. Life is still bittersweet in so many ways, and it may be like this for the rest of my life. That makes sense in a way, since a piece of me will always be missing.

Despite the gaping hole in our hearts, we have so many reasons to be happy right now. We had a great Christmas with the girls here, and we had multiple Christmas celebrations with different groups of family. I spent most of those celebrations breathing through and timing contractions, but even that didn't take away from the joy of the season. I think we all had a rough spot Christmas morning, grieving the loss of our little man, but we had so many blessings to be thankful for that it tempered the grief a bit. Those sweet girls I am lucky enough to call my daughters are growing up so quickly. They are such incredible young ladies now, and I am so proud of them. I am reminded daily of my blessings... All four of them.

After keeping us all on our toes since the preterm labor scare and hospital stay in November, Carter decided he was quite comfortable staying put for a little while. I had constant contractions for weeks after going off all of the medications, but things would eventually slow down and stall out. I think I had the longest labor ever, but it was all worth it in the end.

We welcomed Carter William to the world on January 6th via c-section. We had some issues with the cord wrapping towards the end of my labor, and we all agreed it was necessary to get him out as quickly as possible. The surgery may have been a blessing after all, as he ended up weighing 8 lbs. 10 oz. at birth. He was a big boy, and he somehow manages to keep getting bigger every day. He's such an easygoing and happy baby! As long as he's fed, he's happy. And he manages to always be fed. :)

The hardest part, maybe for all of us, has been the inevitable comparisons to Holden. I love remembering Holden in all things, because one of my biggest fears is that he'll be forgotten. But I also need to remember that Carter is his own person. I need to remember to be thankful for that, for the gift of each of my children. Despite everything we've lost, we are still blessed beyond belief. God is good, all the time!

As proof of that, this is Carter. He joins big sisters Kaitlyn and Rylie, and big brother Holden. We are in love.

(The picture is courtesy of our amazingly talented friend, Ren Morrison. More to come soon. :)

Promises

It seems I will forever be starting my blog posts with apologies. I'm so sorry, again, for the delay in updates. I know that if I updated more often it wouldn't be such a daunting task, but that never makes it any easier to get started. It's honestly just so hard to write, to put my thoughts in such a tangible format. I try so hard most days to keep it all in, and it's difficult to let it flow freely enough to write about sometimes. I hope that it gets easier as time passes, because this blog has been so useful in many ways.

My pregnancy is still progressing, right on track. I am a little over thirty weeks now, although I look like I passed forty a while back. We've had our share of hiccups and speedbumps, but overall things are going well. We were scheduled to go in for a follow-up echo on Halloween, but our cardiologist had to reschedule due to an emergency. I was pretty disappointed, but we'll schedule another appointment with her, hopefully when I go in for my next ultrasound at 32 weeks. I'll let everyone know what we find out, although I know I'm no longer reliable for timely updates. I'll try my best!

We are still collecting items, gift cards and donations for the care packages we're putting together for the families who are spending the holidays in the hospital this year. Please see my previous post for a full list of items we are looking for and the address, or send whatever you wish. Some of you have asked if monetary donations are okay, and yes, we will take anything. We can use the donations towards gift cards or any of the other items we need. I would like to have everything put together by the end of the month, so the clock is ticking. The hospital and the families there will always hold a place in our hearts, and we just want to be a part of paying the kindness forward. If you are able and willing, we would love to include you in our efforts.

We made a trip to Dallas last month to visit an old friend from CMC. While we loved all of the staff at the hospital, we became especially close to a few of the doctors and nurses. Dr. Koch is one of our favorites, and I still thank God that he was there with us for the last few days. We met him for lunch one day a few weeks ago and talked about those days. We also went over the autopsy report, because I'm one of those people who need detailed answers and explanations for everything. I won't get into all of those details here, because Holden had a lot going on in that little body of his. To make a very long story short, it was all related to his heart, as we suspected. His own heart gave out before a new heart was made available. We knew, but it still broke my own heart to see it in black and white. I guess I always thought that his angel heart would somehow arrive just in time to save him. That didn't happen, and four months later, it's still so challenging for me to accept.

This experience has shattered me, and I don't know if I'll ever be the same person. Honestly, I don't know that I want to be that person again. As much pain as I live with, I wouldn't give up the time we were given for anything.

The process of healing is so unpredictable. Even when I have good days, I feel slightly guilty. Like I don't have the right to feel normal anymore, because nothing is normal. Creating a new normal is an uncertain task, at best. The actual act of living takes a long time. Grief makes me not want to do anything but survive at times. Actually living proves much more difficult. But somehow, we always manage to make it through to another day.

My birthday is tomorrow, and it's yet another bittersweet day for me. My birthday gift last year was getting to hold my baby after his surgery, for the first time in a week. I would give anything for that same gift this year, but so much has changed.

A year ago, we were sitting in the CICU, waiting to see what would happen with Holden and his heart. Four months ago yesterday, we left that place that now holds the worst memories of my life. At least, we tried. You can't leave a place like that, memories like that, and not take some of it with you. I remember everything. The sound of the bedrails. The beep of the monitors. The smell of the soap. The hope, and the heartache in every corner of every room.

I'm sure it's not easy for any parent with empty arms to walk away from the memories, even when they torment. They're all we have. I know that others who have lost babies and children share my inability to separate sorrow from joy in life. I don't know that they'll ever be divided again, they are so tightly woven together.

I wholeheartedly believe that Holden is at peace with his Father right now. I believe, but I can't truthfully say that it always brings me peace or comfort. I know it should, and I wish it would. I would be lying if I said that I don't wish him back to me hundreds of times each day. Even knowing where he is doesn't always fill the void. I just want to hold him in my arms again, and I'm clinging tightly to the promise that one day I will.

My heart will always feel the void our Holden left behind, but another part of my heart is full of hope for the miracles of the two big sisters he left behind, and this new precious gift we never planned. Holden will always leave a place in the middle of our family that is so painfully empty, even as the rest is joyfully overflowing. That's yet another example of God's grace and mercy at it's finest... He makes my cup overflow, even as part of it is missing.

Holden will never return to me. Those words define my life right now, and I imagine they will define the rest of my life as well. He will never return to me. But one day, I'll go to him. My arms will be filled again. Not in the familiar little boy way that I remember so well and long for, but so perfectly different. Thank God for the promise of eternity. To believe in His promise in spite of our pain is a gift, and what a beautiful gift it is.

Long overdue, and long

It's been so long since I've updated this blog, I'm not even sure where to start. I guess the biggest news (for those of you who aren't my friends on Facebook) is that this baby is actually a boy- not a girl as we initially thought. We had our day full of appointments with the specialists a few weeks ago, and he looked perfectly healthy! The cardiologist did find one very tiny issue in his heart, but we're fairly confident that will resolve on its own. We are so relieved to know that this little boy is healthy and whole. We are painfully aware that many children aren't blessed with that gift, and we are so thankful. (On that same subject, a few of Holden's heart friends are facing surgeries, illnesses and scary unknowns this week. Please dirty your knees on behalf of these children and their families as they make it through the next few days.)

This past week has been pretty rough emotionally. I've been up and down (a phrase I overuse a lot these days), and the pregnancy hormones don't help my mental state at all. I have the highest highs and the lowest lows, and I don't know when that will get better. We're starting to get excited about meeting our newest blessing, but it's hard to reconcile that excitement with the grief we still carry. How is it possible to be so empty and overflowing at the same time? I'm not sure, but it is. I live it daily.

We needed to replace the floor in our bedroom before the baby gets here, so Trent and a friend got it done last week. I love the new and improved floor (that doesn't buckle and cave when we walk across it), but the downside to the improvement was clearing out the room and then getting it all back in. It's been a great opportunity to organize and pack away things we no longer need or use, but of course, Holden's things were included. Going through all of his stuff was very hard. Deciding what to keep out and pack away was even harder. It needed to be done, but relegating his entire short life to a box in our closet was heartbreaking. Even though his absence is so very real, it still seems very unreal at times.

One year ago today, we were on our way to Children's Medical Center in Dallas. Holden was scheduled for his first heart cath the next morning, and we were staying as guests on the 8th floor the night before his procedure. The cath was the first step on the way to his big open heart surgery, and while we dreaded the whole process, we knew it was a necessary one. It's hard to believe now that 365 days have passed since that first step.

Now, one year later, the journey has changed. It's far from over, but it's no longer the same path we started out on. We're all more than a little scarred, a little reverent about the events of the past year. Truth be told, sometimes I'd delete some of it if I could. And truth be told, I'd do it all over again- without question. I only partially understand the miracles that were made ours throughout this journey. And I'm ashamed to admit I've spent the last few months losing sight of those miracles.

I've spent a lot of time since the beginning of July feeling angry. I've been so wrapped up in the grief of what is missing in our lives, I've lost sight of the many, many miracles that have been gifted to us. I have two beautiful, healthy girls. I may not get to see them every day, but they are happy and growing into amazing little women. We have a healthy rainbow baby on the way, an unexpected blessing after the storm. We had 17 months with the strongest, most inspirational little man on the planet... My very own Braveheart. These are all miracles, and my anger has prevented me from being properly thankful for them. Being angry is exhausting. It's gotten me nowhere. Nowhere I want to be, anyway.

So I prayed, for the first time in a long time, to truly be done being angry. I prayed for understanding. For peace. I prayed to regain my vision of Holden and his purpose. Will my prayers be answered? In time, I believe they will. I don't know how much time... It isn't up to me. Getting rid of the anger won't get rid of the pain, but I hope that it will replace the bitterness in my heart with grace.

God is aware of my pain. He is aware of my anger, my hurt, my marriage, my children, my family. He is constantly, caringly, overwhelmingly aware. He holds every tear I've cried in the palm of His hand, and in the other hand, He's holding my son. Yes, God is aware.

So there it is. I need to remember one year from now and every year after that, that there is a purpose and a plan. There are miracles being worked every single day. There is still a lot of work to be done, in myself, in my faith, in the way I honor the legacy Holden left behind. But I know now it's necessary work. Work that will take us somewhere intentional, no matter the outcome. That's my goal... to live intentionally, with a purpose. To always strive to be better, and do better, because we owe that much to Holden's memory.

Our first act of living intentionally and paying our blessings forward will require your help. Many kind people give generously to the hospital and the children being treated. In fact, some of the friends we made while living there are collecting baby items to gift to the heart babies on their daughter's first birthday. We don't feel like there is a void in gifts and care items for the children, but we do feel like more can be done for the families who have to stay for prolonged periods of time. We would like to start making care packages/baskets to donate to the parents and families in the heart center. I know that many of my friends and family are amazingly talented and creative, and I'd love to hear your ideas. Our goal is to do the first drop-off at Christmas, and another on Holden's birthday. The items we have thought of so far are as follows:

1. Starbucks gift cards- I know it seems like a frivolous thing, but there were days when a double shot latte was all that kept me going. God bless whoever thought of putting a Starbucks in the hospital.
2. Bibles and/or inspirational books- When the doctors don't always have answers, faith is the only thing left to cling to. I don't know how anybody can get through this kind of experience without it.
3. Chapstick/ lip balm- Because dry hospital air is rough.
4. Decent soaps and lotion- Because dry hospital air is rough, and the hospital soap makes hands crack and bleed over time.
5. Soft, fuzzy blankets- I loved mine, and Trent and I fought over the one we had daily. Hospital blankets are about as comforting as the soap.
6. Puzzle books- I'm partial to Sodoku, but to each his own.
7. Gift cards- We can either use these to buy specific items for the families, or give them as gifts

Seasonal for Christmas (It may seem silly, but for many of these families, it is baby's first Christmas. It was really important to me to decorate and celebrate, even in the CICU. Please keep in mind that space is limited, so all items need to be small.):
1. Small battery powered trees- We ended up being the only family on the floor who had a lit tree at one point, because hospital policy says no plug-ins, and ours was battery powered.
2. General Christmas decorations- Again, please keep space limitations in mind.
3. Special ornaments- Holden has a heart ornament that Trent's mom got for him, and I love it even more now.
4. Again, gift cards that we can use to buy specific items or give to the families

Gifts and donations can be mailed to:
448 Rains County Rd. 1275
Emory, TX 75440

It's past time to take the focus off our grief, and instead focus on paying forward the many kindnesses shown to us during Holden's hospital stay and beyond. We would be honored if you would join us in this effort.

Up and Down

I decided to start this post off with the good news, since that seems to be in short supply these days. When I went to the doctor last week, the sonogram showed that I am probably closer to 16 weeks along. That's a lot further along than we had anticipated, but at least everything looks good- so far. (He also told us that he's pretty sure it's a girl this time. He's not 100% certain, but he's pretty sure. We'll see if he's right when we have the next sono.)

He started me on progesterone injections to help stop the early contractions I'm prone to, and we have an appointment next week with a specialist in Dallas for genetic counseling, a more in-depth sonogram and a fetal echo. Because of what Holden has been through, we are considered higher risk, and I don't know if I'll be able to sleep at night until we know that everything is okay. At last week's sonogram, the doctor said everything looked okay with the heart- as far as he could tell- but we'll need a closer look to be sure. I'm hoping and praying with all that I'm worth that this baby will be healthy. I want this child to have a chance... The chance Holden never had.

I still haven't shared much about the day we lost Holden. I may never be able to share the details. But I can tell you that I still hold on to so much from those hours that I have to daily lay it down in prayer, or I'd be crushed. I am forever thankful that I was able to hold my sweet boy as he let go of this world and all of the pain it held for him. I am forever thankful for the many doctors and nurses who frantically, tirelessly worked to save his life. We saw the true hearts of the people who work at Children's Medical Center that day, and we love them for that.

But that thankfulness doesn't take the pain away. I haven't found the answer for that one yet. I didn't turn to medication (as would have been so easy to do and, at one point, was heavily suggested by many people around me). I don’t want anything to numb me. The reality of it is that my son died, and I want to feel the void that he leaves in my heart. Not cover it up or medicate it, even for a little while. I want to remember every single thing about my little man. I want to remember what I miss so much.

I miss his open mouth kisses- when we were lucky enough to be on the receiving end. The way he held his mouth open like a little bird because he was too lazy to feed himself. Hearing him say "night night" with his cute little wave every time we headed towards the bedroom. Waking up to his smile inches away from my face- He woke up every single day with a smile, no matter how bad he felt or how horrible his day would be. The way he had to touch both Trent and me at all times throughout the night- one of us wasn't good enough, he wanted both. Walking behind his stroller for hours on end, guided by his grunts and squeals to let us know what direction he wanted to turn that day. His excitement about reading his books, and his love of turning the pages for me. I could keep going... There are countless things to list.

So this is my reality. It sucks, but it's mine. I think that’s why this point in time is the hardest so far…the shock has long since worn off and the harsh reality of what my life will be like for as long as I walk this earth is setting in.

What gives me hope to put one foot in front of the other is that I know my life doesn't end here. This isn't it. We have been given Eternity, where I'll be able to hold my sweet little man once again. That is what brings me hope even as I am crying. I sincerely wish everyone who mourns his loss finds that same hope. Hope is rewarded. Prayers are answered. Maybe not in the way that we ask for, but they are answered.

We prayed for a miracle and we got it. We prayed that he be healed and he was…perfectly. We're honoring His plan for Holden's life, and He will be faithful. Even when I can’t see the plan through tears and my entire body hurts with grief, He is faithful.

My devotion the other day was titled “Do you trust God’s Will for your life?” I thought about that a lot. More than I should have. If I'm going to be completely honest, I would have to say that sometimes I'm just not so sure I do. That's hard for me to admit. Nobody wants to be that “ye of little faith” person. But I'm sure that someone reading this completely understands. Some days it's just harder to find that trust.

Trust or not, our lives don't stop. We keep going, putting one foot in front of the other. Even when it hurts. And it often hurts.

We do it because it's God’s Will. And I'm learning to trust Him.

Bittersweet

I wish I could say that things around here have gotten easier, but that's not really true. Will it ever get easier? I'm not sure that this kind of hurt ever dulls or disappears. We're trying to adjust to a new version of normal, but it's a big adjustment. So much of our lives revolved around Holden, and without him holding it all together, nothing is normal anymore. We have to completely change our way of living, and that's a very slow process. Many days, I don't even want to get out of bed, so I don't. Other days, I can manage to distract myself and make it through the day with a minimum of tears and mini-breakdowns. We have many friends and family who have made distraction an easy task at times, and we are thankful for that.

We don't have the autopsy results back yet. They said it would take 4-6 weeks, and it's been a little over four. I'm not sure if knowing why will help anything, but I can't move on without knowing either. Those results are one of the last things hanging over our heads, so I'm praying we have some answers soon.

I'm still not sure I understand any of this. We prayed so many times for God to make Holden's heart whole. Well, his heart is whole now. He answered our prayers, just not in the way we had hoped for. I struggle daily trying to live with and without him. With him, because he is still very much alive here in our hearts and our home, and without him because memories are all I have left to hold now. Balancing those two realities is impossible.

Each day we had him with us was a gift, and though I wish we had more time, I have to trust that God's plan for Holden's life was fulfilled in 17 months. That kind of trust is really, really hard right now, but we know that He has a plan for our lives.

That became evident when I went to the doctor last week. Much to our surprise, we found out that I am pregnant... At least a couple of months along. (We'll have a better idea of a timeline once I have a sono to date the pregnancy.) That means that all of this happened before Holden even went into the hospital the last time, and we had no idea. Trent and I had talked about having another child, and we decided to wait for a little while because we just weren't ready yet. The best laid plans, right? Indeed, the plans we make for our lives are not our plans to make. It's like He knew that we would need a reason to face each day again. Something to plan for. Something to look forward to, even as we try to sort through our grief. This is very much a bittersweet time for us. We are thankful and so very blessed, yet it's hard to be fully excited about anything right now. We are praying, and trying to keep a strong hold on our faith. It's really the only thing that's a constant these days.

John 16:33 "I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world."

My mother uploaded the slideshow shown at Holden's service, for those of you who are interested in watching it. We had some technical difficulties at the service, so I'm glad that we can share the full show with you now. I don't know how to include the actual video in the blog, but you can follow the link here.

We thank you all for your continued support and prayers. I'm not as diligent about responding to every one's messages as I should be, but your encouragement is the only thing that has kept me going at times. We appreciate all of you, more than you know.

Tributes

I'm still having trouble finding my words... I don't know that I have anything left in me to say at this point. My cousin (and Holden's godmother), Jennifer, wrote a beautiful letter about our little man. She gave me permission to share it with all of you here.

Ren Morrison, our sweet-hearted and generous friend who did Holden's one-year pictures and all of the pictures for his service, has also written a very touching blog. She has an exceptionally giving spirit, and she has been such a blessing to us. She included pictures of the service along with her sweet words, and you can find it all here.

We have been humbled and honored by the prayers and support from so many of you. We are so thankful. And until I find my own words, I am also thankful for our loved ones who are there to hold us up. We love you.

From Jennifer:

I'm stunned that it's been a week. It feels like 10 seconds and 10 years all at once. In some ways, it took Holden a long time to go home. In others, especially for those of us who have been with him so constantly during his 17 months among us, it seemed to happen so devastatingly fast. I'm afraid we'll be reeling for some time.

Everyone who will read this has experienced loss. Ours is no more severe or immediate than the pain of those who endure other hardships - parents gone too soon, sons or daughters deployed overseas, children who might have been. From experience, you know something of what we're going through. Jack and I had been so focused on the immediate moment, on fighting day to day, on supporting Lindsey and Trent whenever, however, and wherever they needed it, that we didn't get around to grieving for ourselves until Tuesday evening. It was then - and will be for a long while - that we grieve for the future Holden, for the child we would've helped guide through life, celebrated through birthdays and milestones and victories. The child who would say our names, spend sleepovers with us, know that his Uncle Jack was a total pushover, and his Aunt Jen would always be ready with a hug, a giggle and a snack. When we agreed to be Holden's godparents, we signed on to be constant, consistent presences in his life. And now we've signed on to honor his legacy.

One of the things that gets lost in Holden's struggles is the potential he always had for a future. Though his challenges seemed insurmountable, Holden so consistently defied medical prognosis and convention that we'd already started looking forward to his first day of school, his first caught fish. Holden knew pain that few of us will ever endure, but he also knew joy. He was a great source of joy. He loved being outside and riding on the tractor with his daddy. He loved his stuffed elephant (which was bigger than he was!), and snuggled with his soft little stuffed dog (only when he didn't think anyone was looking). He smiled with his eyes before his mouth. He was precocious, and loved teasing people with his "bull face": scrunched up nose, pursed lips, a cross between a laugh and a raspberry. He was an observer, and an excellent judge of people. And he was a charmer who hooked you almost immediately with those deep, soulful eyes. He loved things that made noise. To be read to. Music. He loved chasing bugs. He adored his sisters, and they always made their bubba smile. He put a lot of miles on his stroller, just being a boy outside in the dirt - as it should be.

We absolutely take comfort that Holden is now pain-free, that he's struggle-free. But his pain and his struggle didn't define his life. They weren't the sum total of it. When Holden's story is told, we pray that it is not a story of what Holden didn't have or of the opportunities he missed. We pray that it's the story of what he DID have, of the amazing gifts that God gave this sweet boy. Holden was born not with just a broken heart, but with a very special heart. He brought out the very best in those around him. He gave us strength, pushed us to do better and be more. He touched more lives in 17 months than many of us will touch in a lifetime. And he will continue to urge us to do more, to be better, to make a difference - so that we may live up to his legacy.

So thank you for being there for us, for sharing in this with us. Thank you for continuing to tell Holden's story. Thank you for continuing to lift up his hero parents, Lindsey and Trent, in prayer. They've never needed support quite as they do right now. Jack and I will always be Holden's godparents, and we will always stand with Lindsey and Trent. Thank you for supporting us as we support them. We couldn't do it without you.

Struggling for Peace

This blog used to be cathartic for me. It started out as a way to chronicle our day-to-day lives, and as a way to keep Holden's supporters informed. It turned out that the blog was as much for me as them, and I hope that I can find some kind of peace through writing again.

I was so touched to see how many people came to honor Holden. I saw many faces that I hadn't seen in years, many faces that I had never seen at all, and many faces that I have seen often through our journey with Holden. People came from all over the state to honor our little man, and seeing the impact he had on so many lives was humbling. How many of us will go our whole lives without making that same kind of impact? He was one-of-a-kind, and irreplacable. Thank you, everyone, for knowing and honoring that yesterday.

People ask how I'm doing, and I don't know how to answer that question. Should I tell them, "Fine, thank you," and move on? If I'm going to be totally honest, I'm far from fine. We are all far from fine. I'm numb, and I'm lost, and I still don't know if it's hit me yet that he's never coming home. In fact, I'm positive that the full realization hasn't made it through my head yet.

I just never expected him to not make it through. Yes, I knew what kind of obstacles he faced. I knew how hard the journey was going to be, and I was fully prepared to walk it with him. I knew that his world was full of uncertainties, but I never prepared myself for one of those unknowns to beat him. I had actually gotten a little bit arrogant, thinking of how much he'd been through already. I was terrified for him, but it never even occured to me that this time would be different. He fought so hard in so many battles, and I just knew that he was going to fight and win again. How long will it be before I fully realize that he lost this time? I hope never... I don't know if my heart can take it.

Holden had a gift for stealing hearts. All babies are cute and loveable, but even in his worst moods, Holden could charm the pants off anyone. I wonder if deep inside somewhere, he knew he didn't have much time in this world. I wonder if he loved so much and so hard because he knew he had to fit it all in. Or maybe he really was just an exceptional spirit, sent here for the purpose of teaching us all to love, to live, to appreciate, to be more- because he was.

I can look back over the last 17 months and see so many things that God gifted to us as sacred memories. Holden's life has touched and inspired so many others, and that in itself is a gift. But I miss him. I want more than memories. I don't know why this path was chosen for us, but for reasons I'm not sure of, He chose to give us a different story to tell. I don't want to be a part of this story.

Does it ever go away? The hole in our hearts, our home, our spirits. Does it ever get better? It doesn't feel like it right now. He's everywhere here. I'm trying so hard to hold on to my faith, but honestly, it's so very hard. I want to understand the plan in all of this. I want to let go of my anger and trust that His plan is bigger than my own. But I'm human. I'm selfish. And I want my baby here, with me. I don't understand. I can't understand, and I'm really struggling with that. I try to remember that God suffered the death of His own son, and knows the pain that I feel. Somehow that doesn't make it any easier right now.

I'm not strong... I never have been. Any strength I had was pulled from my brave little man who had enough courage and heart for all of us. I feel so brittle and fragile right now, like I might shatter and break at any moment.

The only things holding me up right now are my husband, my girls, and our ever-present family and friends. We are blessed to live among such supportive, genuinely kind people whose faith, love and supportive spirits are giving us a strength that is hard to explain. I am on-my-knees grateful for all of you, every day. We wouldn't have made it without you.