The Price of Love

It has been a month since Max died. A whole month. I really can't believe it.

I still feel like he was just here, like he was just born. But the days have turned to weeks and the weeks have added up to a month since he has been gone. We've had to face that truth in many ways since then. Just this week I started to go through the nursery and packing things up to put away to store. It was an emotional process. I want it to still feels like Max's room, but I also want it to be a functional space for us. I cried as I packed up diapers, baby lotion, blankets and toys. I wished so much he had come home to lay in that crib, or be changed on that table, or rocked to sleep in that glider.

Here's the thing- I don't know about you guys, but I really struggle with being human. I know that Max is in heaven. I know he has a great calling there. I know that he isn't lost to me. I know I will see him again some day. I have faith in my merciful and loving Heavenly Father and his great plan of happiness. Yet, there I sat, crying on the nursery room floor, because I am human and I miss him. I miss him every second. My arms ache to hold him. My eyes wish to see him. My heart longs to feel like it did in his presence. Despite the truths I know and the faith I feel I have I still feel sad without him, which made me feel weak.

I have really struggled with this side effect of being human. I felt like Heavenly Father and Max must  have been so disappointed in me because of my weaknesses. I have wondered why I couldn't be stronger if I know what I know. I felt, like, if I really was a great woman of faith then I would be strong and not sad. And, if that is the case, then I must not be very strong or very faithful... Right? Well, no. I have, finally, come to realize that is wrong.

Being sad does not make me weak. My human heart was made to bear grief. We came here for mortal experiences: to have great joys and suffer great trials. Even when we endure the difficult times faithfully, that doesn't mean we won't have sadness or heartbreak. Even the only perfect being to ever walk this earth experienced heartache. The shortest verse in all the scriptures, is also one of the most profound, "Jesus wept." In John 11:35, upon finding out that His dear friend Lazarus had died, even Jesus shed tears. Christ knew He would raise Lazarus from the dead, but He still wept with Mary and Martha. And the next scripture, verse 36, describes the messages His tears conveyed to those who saw "Behold how he loved him!"

I have searched all over and cannot find an author for this quote, but it perfectly sums this all up.
“Grief never ends... But it changes. It’s a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith... It is the price of love.”

Well, I loved Max. I love him with every inch of my soul. I grew him within me for 34 weeks. I gave all of myself to him, physically and emotionally. I sat with him nearly every day for 5 weeks. I held him close in my arms as he died. So, how could I not be sad? How could I not miss him and cry? And I don't think that makes me weak, anymore. Every tear I shed conveys the strength of my love for Max. Missing him so much means he was real, and he was here.
Missing him is just the price of loving him so much. 
XO

Who am I?

It is truly incredible how you become permanently changed by the birth of your child.

Each time we had an ultrasound, I felt a love for Max so strong that I couldn't even fathom how it could grow. Then he was born, and that love multiplied. And until you experience it yourself, there is no way to know it or understand it. That kind of love isn't something you can imagine or describe; it lives within you, ever-growing by the second.

So, now at long last I was Max's mother. Sure, I had been a mother since I gotten pregnant with Boston, but now I actually had a child here- I had Max. There he laid in his incubator, with his one open eye blinking at me and his tiny little hand wrapped around my finger. This is what I had always wanted, what I had always dreamed for myself since I was a little girl. I was a mother. Now, my life felt complete.

In that very instant I was changed. From that moment our gaze met, everything I did was for Max. I was his Mom and I would do anything for him! And nothing made me happier. I loved getting to proudly answer "Yes!" when asked, "Are you Max's mom?" This is who I was now, and my heart was overflowing.

As the days and weeks went on every waking, and sleeping, moment were about Max. I pumped every 3 hours, I sat by his bedside 8-10+ hours a day, rocked him, read to him, talked to him, prayed for him, met with doctors for him and called throughout the night to check on him. I was Max's mom and he was all that mattered in my life until I almost made myself sick. After 4 weeks of NICU chaos, pumping, rarely sleeping - all on top of my own surgery recovery- I was exhausted. I wanted to be supermom, but I couldn't. That Saturday night Tyler had to practically carry me out of the hospital. My whole body ached and I could hardly stand anymore. This is motherhood; love so great you'll nearly kill yourself to be there for your child.

I was Max's mom and he was my life. While I sat with him, I had trouble even remembering what life had been like before he existed. How could I have ever survived without him? Who was I before I was his mother? It didn't matter to me now. All I wanted was to be a mother, his mother, for the rest of my life!

In the immediate wake of Max's death I felt a great void in myself. That first night home, and many nights that followed, I woke up to call the NICU and hung up only when I suddenly realized I had no reason to call. Sometimes I still wake up in the mornings in a hurry to get to the hospital, and it takes a minute for me to remember that I don't need to go. I'm even all dried up, and haven't pumped in 2 weeks. All the motherly duties I had are gone. 

Who am I now that its all done? Yes, I know I'm still a mother... but its just like before. I'm a mother without my children present. I'm a mother, but I have no one here to mother. All I've ever really wanted and all I loved was being a mother. So... what do I do now? What do I do now that Max is gone? After the dust settled and our new life without Max began, I felt utterly lost.

So, who am I now? Well, I'll tell you...

I am the author of Max's incredible story. The journey to get to him and the 5 week adventure we spent with him is a story I must continue to tell. Through pondering, prayer and fasting I have felt the Lord reveal to me a special plan that I am honored to carry out. Not only will I continue to keep this blog and continue to share our story of hope and faith, I will also make a broader effort to share Max's life and my testimony. 

I will be dedicating this year to writing a book!

I feel excited, overwhelmed, terrified and ready all at the same time. Most of all, I feel Max standing beside me, encouraging me. I know he will guide me as I work to make this dream a reality. I know the Lord will bless me along the way. I know I have the amazing support of family and friends as I take on such an incredible new challenge.

I am still a mother. I still have a calling to care for Max, and this is how I will show my unfailing love and appreciation for him. I will try to tell as many as will listen about the strong, wild, faithful boy who came to change our world.

XO

The Best Year Ever

Well, 2016 has arrived. It is hard to look forward to a year without our Mighty Max. 2016 will certainly be a year of healing as we try to move forward in the wake of our loss.

My feelings about this new year are so torn. I have hope in seeing what this year will bring us, but I'm feeling so sad now that 2015 is our past. I mean, try as the years might, I cannot imagine how any year will really ever top the pure joy that was 2015. Truly, this last year was the best of our lives! Interestingly, I have found that some people are so surprised to hear me say this. 

Yes, just two weeks before the year ended we held Max tight in our arms as he took his last breath and his spirit returned to our Lord. Yes, our hearts broke into millions of tiny pieces when he was gone. Yes, we miss him more than words could ever try to convey. But that is just one part of an entire year of miracles, joy and triumph. And, truthfully, even that one part was a miracle. For us, even Max's death was a beautiful blessing.

Surprised? Let me explain...

Even the sadness of Max's passing could never erase the joy in his arrival. I can't imagine how any future moments will possibly compare to the joy of finding out last April that I was miraculously pregnant. No doctors, no shots, no medications, no positive ovulation tests; yet, somehow I was pregnant! And then, on November 17th, 6 weeks early he came into our world AND HE LIVED! Despite what the doctors expected, despite what science claimed impossible, despite not even breathing at birth HE LIVED! And despite discovering that his condition was even worse than they had anticipated before birth he lived for five whole weeks. I mean, really, our joy was overflowing! Those 5 weeks with Max erased all the heartache of infertility. The miracle of Max brought a light to our lives that even death could not shadow. 

Max was so incredibly special. His spirit radiated a glory that is beyond description. Every day we were with him our faith grew, our testimonies expounded and our hearts were made strong. This amazing little baby touched the lives of people he never met, of people that Tyler and I haven't even met. How incredible is that? How incredible that the Lord thought we were good enough for him! I still can't believe Max picked us to share his journey. 

When, at last, the doctor and nurse removed all the chords and his breathing tube I finally got to hold my baby boy like I'd always hoped to. I snuggled him close and kissed his face without worry. He breathed and cooed and stared at Tyler and I with his one open eye. And despite knowing that this moment would be our last with him, I was fulfilled. I knew he would soon be free of the bonds of his mortal body. I knew that soon he would be surrounded by our loved ones already passed. I knew that he would go straight from my arms into the arms of our Savior who would proudly say, "Well done my good and faithful servant. You have fought the good fight. Now enter in to my rest."

What more could a mother ask for? What more could a mother want for her perfect, precious child?

So, yes, 2015 was the best year of our lives, because we had Max. We had Max and we saw countless miracles. We had Max and we experienced celestial glory. We had Max and we were humbled by the Christlike service of hundreds of loved ones and strangers. We had Max and we came to know our Heavenly Father and our Savior. We had Max and our lives changed. 

How could we be so blessed and turn our backs to God? How, having seen the heavens open, could we choose to shut ourselves off? How could we experience all that we did, but choose to be bitter just because Max died?

He came. At last, our son was here. Every day with him was a miracle, a blessing. He was strong and he fought so hard to stay with us as long as he could, because he loved us so much. We could never betray that love or dishonor him by defining 2015 by his death. For us, 2015 will always be about miracles, blessings and Max's life. 

XO.