Happy Birthday Hart!

Today, Hart would have turned 7 years old. That is so hard to fathom. I can't really picture what our family snapshot would look like if he had lived. I cannot imagine the dynamics, the relationships, the dirt. But, I also cannot envision our lives had he not been born. He is a part of our daily lives, as a baby, an angel, a hero and completely dirt-free! We each have a relationship with him, he adds to the interactions of our family, but these are different than if he had survived.

Today isn't a sad day for us, but a day of celebration. We didn't think we would get a chance to celebrate Hart's life. We honestly thought his birthday and death day would be the same; that we would have one date to "contend" with. But what a blessing to be able to celebrate his life! That being said, I've already cried 3 times today (and it's only 7:30 am). But these are not tears of sadness, they are tears of gratitude, tears of happy memories, tears of remembering the kindness of others, tears of feeling love.

I had been warned by countless well-meaning folks, (folks are those people who open their mouths without turning their filters on first!) that Hart's first birthday would be unbearable. That the numbness that enveloped me from the moment of his death would begin to wain, and I would finally feel the true weight of my grief. Really, the truly unbearable part, was everyone telling me that. For weeks, I braced myself, waiting for the breaking point; waiting for the drop of water that would cause the flood walls to break. It never happened. (In the back of my mind, I wondered if I somehow had too much anesthetic and that my numbness wasn't wearing off on time-what on earth was wrong with me? I wasn't losing my mind like I was supposed to!)

Of course there were tears and moments of sadness on his first birthday, but mostly we rejoiced in knowing Hart. It was against all odds that we even got the chance to meet him, let alone create memories. A miracle that my children got to hold and touch and love him! Change his diapers, feed him! It was amazing, and we felt an indescribable joy in that! I finally understand what Alfred Lord Tennyson meant-

I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

This poem has nothing to do with the teenage angst I always associated it with!
Each year for Hart's birthday, we buy a children's book published in the current year. The thought is one day, our children will move out, take their books with them and we will still possess a lovely collection of children's books. 

This year we chose these two fabulous books!

 













Happy, happy birthday to my beautiful baby boy!

The Significance of Butterflies

Last night, steadfast husband and I went to a charity event, during which I became the proud new owner of a gorgeous butterfly necklace. Because I am celebrating Hart's memory this week, the timing couldn't have been more perfect.

We belonged to the most fabulous church when we lived in Indiana. We loved our church. A lot. The people in it, the programs they offered, the ministers, everything. Our favorite minister, Dr. Joan, was the most amazing woman. While I'm sure having a favorite minister isn't uncommon, it is probably totally Christian-ly incorrect for me to flagrantly admit it-please forgive me...but she was our favorite! Dr. Joan exuded peace, intelligence, love and all good things. She baptized most of our children (including Hart). We started meeting with her while I was pregnant with Hart in order to help us emotionally and spiritually prepare for the loss of our son. We also started planning his funeral.
Dr. Joan asked for our input and we added songs and bible verses that were important to us. We told her who would speak during the service and our overall vision for the service. (Okay, I can’t believe that we had an "overall vision" for the funeral, and even worse that I uttered the words “overall vision” out loud, but-my journal tells me it is so.) She said she had a special idea for our children and, if it was okay with us, she would work on that. We talked to Dr. Joan often during my pregnancy, when Hart was born, and during his life. When the time came for his funeral, it was a relief having had the chance to make the preparations in advance.
The funeral was absolutely beautiful. Several days after his funeral, I received a letter from the mother of my childhood best friend telling me that his service was the most beautiful, moving church service, of any kind, that she had ever been to. It made me smile.
A funeral for a baby is so sad, but it is also so beautiful and pure. It is love and light and brightness (and incredibly difficult to describe). One of the most amazing things about Hart's funeral was the butterflies. During the service, Dr. Joan called my children up to the front of the church to sit beside her on the steps. She had a closed box on her lap. She told them it was filled with Monarch Butterflies. She spoke about the brief, but beautiful life of the butterflies and compared their lives to Hart’s. She asked my children if they wanted to keep them in the box or if they wanted her to open the lid to let them fly. They said to open the lid (thank you, God) and when she did, butterflies flew throughout the sanctuary.
It was such an incredible moment. Dr. Joan had another box of butterflies and asked if we would like to take them home with us. We let the butterflies fly around our house. Having butterflies fly around the house brought moments of joy to our family during very grim days. Since his funeral, whenever we see Monarch butterflies we think of Hart. They have come to represent such a special, beautiful memory.

I couldn’t talk about Hart’s funeral without adding the beautiful words my sister spoke that day! She wrote the following on her flight from Beijing to Indianapolis following Hart’s death.

           I am finally alone, I have a sixteen hour trip ahead of me. Lord, I really need this time... solitude to think, time to talk with You.
       You know how hard it's been for me to be away from Erin and her family, halfway around the world. I can't get there fast enough...but I am also staring my complete inability to make it better right in the face.
      I want to fix it. I want to bring Your peace and comfort to them. Sometimes the pain seems more than we can bear. I thank you, Lord for those moments of joy, in spite of our broken hearts.
     The psalmist writes "I cried out-I'm slipping, and your unfailing love, o Lord, supported me. When doubts filled my mind, your comfort gave me renewed hope."
    So we come to you, Lord, as Paul writes in Hebrews: "let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God, there we will receive his mercy and we find grace to help us when we need it."
    We thank you that we can come to you, Lord, unafraid, raw honest....and lay it all down before you. Thank you that we can say: this hurts, we don't understand, this stinks! We can scream, cry out and this doesn't change how much you love us. Nothing can ever separate us from your love. You will never leave us, You will never forsake us.
     Thank you, Father., for the miracle of Hart. Thank you for choosing Erin and John to be his parents and his brothers and sisters to be his siblings. You knew from the beginning that they would love him unconditionally and not hold anything back, even though they knew his time here would be short and how hard it would be to say good-bye.
     Against all odds, he survived the pregnancy, he made it through labor and delivery, and lived with his family for 24 days. We thank you for his 24 strong, healthy and joyous days.
     I love Psalm 139 where David says, "You saw me before I was born, every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed."
     So many of the truths we know, Lord. But sometimes we need to convince our broken hearts to embrace them. Our hands ache to hold, our arms feel empty.
     Give us your grace in full measure. Let us feel Your hand on the small of our backs and help us console each other. Take us through this as only You can, to embrace our pain and Hart's death and still embrace life, to go on trusting and loving, knowing that You are faithfully meeting our every need.                               Amen

Beautiful!

Remembering Hart

Each year, as the anniversary of our beloved baby, Hart's birthday approaches, awareness of my emotions and those of my family, becomes heightened. A type of fear hovers over my existence as I wonder how we will manage this year. But for the 6 years we have celebrated his birthday and his brief life, it has never been bad. Don't get me wrong, it has been incredibly sad, we miss Hart terribly, but it has also been filled with celebration, reflection, memories and love. As Dolly Parton said in the movie Steel Magnolias, "Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion"-we have a lot of that! I just feel that it is my duty to be on the look-out for the day that we can no longer pull the joy from the tragedy; the day we give in and wallow in our heartache.

Hart would have been 7 years old on November 15. I can't believe it has been 7 years since I gave birth to this amazing little boy. It truly seems like a lifetime ago, I don't even remember the person I was before I knew Hart. I hope that there is some core part of me that remains, but when your life changes in such a profound way, you change along with it. There are times when I feel heavier than I'd like, that my grief weighs down my spirit, that my laughter has to work harder to take flight, that my joy has to shake off a layer of sludge before it surfaces, that my insouciant essence is like a balloon, low on helium, floating just above the carpet.

There are times when the burden of these ever-present feelings gets in my way, drains me, annoys me, makes me long for a time when I was weightless. But fortunately those times are rare. Would I trade knowing and losing Hart in order to purge the grief on my heart? Not for a second. The love that grew in this darkness knows no bounds-I have gained so much more than I could ever lose.

7 years ago, I was a small part of something that was so much greater than the sum of its parts. Our little boy, who wasn't supposed to live outside the womb, lived for almost a month. In that month's time (and beyond) we were enveloped in prayers from across the world, were eye-witnesses to unexpected grace, were recipients to anonymous acts of kindness, we experienced unimaginable amounts of love and support from our friends and family. Strangers reached out to us and became our friends. We felt peace-not an easy thing to feel when you are anticipating the loss of your child, but that is what we prayed for, and that is what God gave us. I have never seen anything like it, let alone lived it.

When I was pregnant, we were told Hart wouldn't survive the pregnancy-he did. When I was in labor-we were told he wouldn't survive labor-he did. When I delivered him, we were told he wouldn't survive delivery-he did. On and on it went-an hour, a day, a week. Hart lived for almost a month. Although he was terminally ill, he was able to live with our family, in our home as any other newborn would. It was such an unexpected blessing, an amazing gift. One that I must admit, I was a bit reluctant to accept. We had completely prepared for an alternate ending! I didn't feel equipped to take a baby home, a baby who I knew was going to die. I felt like I needed some books, courses, a support staff, even some well placed stickers with helpful tips-anything! But thanks to the wise words of a friend of mine, (who also happens to be a fabulous neonatologist), who incredulously said "What do you mean you've never done this before? You've done it 5 times! You guys are going home!" I was able to switch gears psychologically, letting go of the idea that "I have never done this before" and starting to celebrate and rejoice in our baby!

In celebration of Hart's 7th birthday, I will be honoring his memory by sharing stories from his amazing life. Over the next week, I will share several special stories that illustrate the impact his short life had on so many people.

Thank you for sharing this special time.