Go to this link and skip to Minute 12:
http://www.byutv.org/watch/982-428
I
could not be more pleased with how this interview turned out. "True Blue" did an
amazing job. It made me teary to watch it, especially when I hear Dan talk about
Ty. But mostly, watching the interview makes me happy. I'm reminded that,
despite the tragedy, there truly was so much love and peace that slipped into
our lives to almost compensate for the pain. I'm touched that a sideline
reporter at the BYU vs Colorado rugby game would remember Ty and what the rugby
team did for us that day, even a year later.
With the one year mark of
Ty's death coming up, the timing is appropriate. Lately on a daily basis, I feel
myself reflecting on this past year, although I sense a hesitancy to think too
deeply about it just yet. I feel myself anticipating next week, knowing I will
need to address it. I may not need to write about it every year, but for me,
this first year is important for me to process, and writing is the best way I
know how.
Dan and I continue to learn how different we are, and how
differently we grieve. While I know he will not forget that day, he does not
want to "celebrate" or "make a day" of March 10th. For me, I know I will be at
the cemetery in the morning before I drive to Vegas. I will need to write about
my experiences, probably have a good cry as I allow myself to remember and feel
all I've been through . . . and then I know I will be ready to have some fun
with family and friends. I don't know what I will need in the future on this
date. But I'm learning to take it a step at at time and go from there.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Daymares
Monday, January 24, 2011
I have been lucky not to suffer from nightmares. In fact,
I've always been blessed with the ability to fall asleep in moments. Since Ty
passed away, with the exception of a couple disturbing dreams and a few nights
of wakeful thinking, I have been able to sleep well. I can't say the same thing
for Dan, unfortunately. But I have struggled with what I call "daymares"
instead. These are times when my mind locks in on that awful morning, and I feel
compelled to walk through the entire event from the moment I peered into the
crib, to the shrieking of my voice and then Dan's . . . every scene and action,
step-by-step until we end up at the hospital. Every image is painfully clear.
Every sound rings in terror. Every emotion raw and torturous all over again. And
I am sickened to the core, gripping my womb and feeling the loss in its
entirety.
The daymare only lasts for minutes at a time--perhaps only moments if I am somehow able to cringe hard enough and chase them away with every ounce of my power. It happened every day, throughout the day, for the first few months, and then they began to taper off. But vacationing in New Zealand, they came back with a vengeance almost daily. Being back in Utah, the daymares have lessened in frequency. But in its place, I have found myself struggling with guilt and fear, once again, and wondering if it will ever go away? I felt the need to see a therapist again and made an appointment with a woman named Mary through LDS Family Services. We talked about many things, all of which ended up tying into one another. I'm going to write most of it down, even if I don't remember the order exactly:
I explained to Melissa that I feel like I've worked through most of the grief and emotions of losing my son, and that spiritually, I have been steadfast and strong. But I don't understand how to get rid of the images, or know why they are coming back. Melissa referenced Hotel Rwanda and explained how the main character, Paul Rusesabagina, saved many lives during the genocide in Rwanda. Years later, he ran a camp for children and adults who had suffered trauma, having seen unspeakable things in their lives. It was a camp of healing, and when asked over and over why this camp seemed to work, the answer continues to be because people talk. They talk and talk about it until they don't feel like they need to talk about the trauma anymore, and they can move on to other things, like gardening or being with other people to learn various skills and past times. In reference to myself, Melissa suggested that the fact that I have sought out help probably means I am still grieving and I still need to talk about it. I think she's right. Seeing all those images over and over is my mind's way of still trying to process the whole event, even though I can see how far I have come and feel pretty "normal" on a daily basis.
We discussed guilt. I told her how most of the time, I feel confident that everything happened as was intended by the Lord, and after talking to friends and family (over and over again!) I feel self-assured and peaceful. But there is still a small piece--a tiny, powerful fragment--that remains. It is the one area where Satan digs his nails into me and causes me to wonder if all this happened because God knew I would fail. I believe I would be completely at peace with Ty's passing, had he died in his sleep without the blanket over him. But what makes it worse is that I had a thought the night before to remove the blanket--to use a smaller one. But I didn't follow what I now wonder was a prompting. That's the part that kills me. Had that been my warning? Why didn't I listen?
First of all, Melissa commented on how as a human, we all have impulses--thoughts, worries, instincts--and its hard to know what comes from the Spirit and what comes from our own natural minds. Melissa asked me what I do when I find myself caught in this web of thinking. I explained that I return to the facts and I rationalize everything my friends and family have repeatedly said to me: Ty's strong body and ability to roll over both ways; his good health; the many spiritual events surrounding his death and how the Lord prepared us; that the light-weight blanket over him might have occurred after he passed away as a natural, physical response to death. But still . . . I can't know for sure. So I have also tried, "Ok, what if I did somehow contribute to his death, as some parents have experienced. What then? The gospel is still true, and I would still need to forgive myself."
Melissa, while reiterating time and again that she did not believe it was my fault, suggested I go down that route of forgiving myself since that may be easier than trying to fully convince myself it was not my fault. She said I have the great ability to rationalize, but it is not working 100%. So instead, she asked, "What if you were to go to the worst case scenario and asked yourself for forgiveness?" I'd been crying off and on through out the session, but started bawling here as I said, "But that means I have to truly accept that I really might have done something!"
We talked about forgiveness, and how Heavenly Father and Ty would be the first to plead that I forgive myself. No one in the world or in Heaven is judging me but myself. Like any mantra, I need to say it over and over again, "I forgive myself", and take it to God and to Ty. Melissa suggested putting my energy towards this because if I could indeed forgive myself, then I would be at peace with the situation. It makes sense to me. I know no one believes I need to forgive myself, and in my heart of hearts, even as I write this, I know I don't need to forgive myself for something I didn't do. But I suppose to cover all my bases for times when I'm feeling weak (which I'm obviously still struggling with from time to time) I need to accept Ty's death from every angle. So that's this week's goal. (When I shared my session with Dan, with tears in his eyes, he said he felt that shiver of the Spirit confirming how important it is that I do forgive myself---that it's what needs to be done for me to move on.)
I learned some other things about myself in this session. We talked about my belief system and how sometimes I have this "impending doom" belief in the future. I didn't realize it until Melissa asked about it, but the pessimist in me that something bad is going to happen tends to occur with things that are most important to me: marriage, Ty's safety, our baby girl's birth . . . Dan cured me of my fear of divorce with his patience and ability to help me feel secure. But then I moved on to fearing motherhood, then fearing for Ty's life, and now fearing our baby girl's life. Melissa asked if I believed something really will happen to this baby.
The daymare only lasts for minutes at a time--perhaps only moments if I am somehow able to cringe hard enough and chase them away with every ounce of my power. It happened every day, throughout the day, for the first few months, and then they began to taper off. But vacationing in New Zealand, they came back with a vengeance almost daily. Being back in Utah, the daymares have lessened in frequency. But in its place, I have found myself struggling with guilt and fear, once again, and wondering if it will ever go away? I felt the need to see a therapist again and made an appointment with a woman named Mary through LDS Family Services. We talked about many things, all of which ended up tying into one another. I'm going to write most of it down, even if I don't remember the order exactly:
I explained to Melissa that I feel like I've worked through most of the grief and emotions of losing my son, and that spiritually, I have been steadfast and strong. But I don't understand how to get rid of the images, or know why they are coming back. Melissa referenced Hotel Rwanda and explained how the main character, Paul Rusesabagina, saved many lives during the genocide in Rwanda. Years later, he ran a camp for children and adults who had suffered trauma, having seen unspeakable things in their lives. It was a camp of healing, and when asked over and over why this camp seemed to work, the answer continues to be because people talk. They talk and talk about it until they don't feel like they need to talk about the trauma anymore, and they can move on to other things, like gardening or being with other people to learn various skills and past times. In reference to myself, Melissa suggested that the fact that I have sought out help probably means I am still grieving and I still need to talk about it. I think she's right. Seeing all those images over and over is my mind's way of still trying to process the whole event, even though I can see how far I have come and feel pretty "normal" on a daily basis.
We discussed guilt. I told her how most of the time, I feel confident that everything happened as was intended by the Lord, and after talking to friends and family (over and over again!) I feel self-assured and peaceful. But there is still a small piece--a tiny, powerful fragment--that remains. It is the one area where Satan digs his nails into me and causes me to wonder if all this happened because God knew I would fail. I believe I would be completely at peace with Ty's passing, had he died in his sleep without the blanket over him. But what makes it worse is that I had a thought the night before to remove the blanket--to use a smaller one. But I didn't follow what I now wonder was a prompting. That's the part that kills me. Had that been my warning? Why didn't I listen?
First of all, Melissa commented on how as a human, we all have impulses--thoughts, worries, instincts--and its hard to know what comes from the Spirit and what comes from our own natural minds. Melissa asked me what I do when I find myself caught in this web of thinking. I explained that I return to the facts and I rationalize everything my friends and family have repeatedly said to me: Ty's strong body and ability to roll over both ways; his good health; the many spiritual events surrounding his death and how the Lord prepared us; that the light-weight blanket over him might have occurred after he passed away as a natural, physical response to death. But still . . . I can't know for sure. So I have also tried, "Ok, what if I did somehow contribute to his death, as some parents have experienced. What then? The gospel is still true, and I would still need to forgive myself."
Melissa, while reiterating time and again that she did not believe it was my fault, suggested I go down that route of forgiving myself since that may be easier than trying to fully convince myself it was not my fault. She said I have the great ability to rationalize, but it is not working 100%. So instead, she asked, "What if you were to go to the worst case scenario and asked yourself for forgiveness?" I'd been crying off and on through out the session, but started bawling here as I said, "But that means I have to truly accept that I really might have done something!"
We talked about forgiveness, and how Heavenly Father and Ty would be the first to plead that I forgive myself. No one in the world or in Heaven is judging me but myself. Like any mantra, I need to say it over and over again, "I forgive myself", and take it to God and to Ty. Melissa suggested putting my energy towards this because if I could indeed forgive myself, then I would be at peace with the situation. It makes sense to me. I know no one believes I need to forgive myself, and in my heart of hearts, even as I write this, I know I don't need to forgive myself for something I didn't do. But I suppose to cover all my bases for times when I'm feeling weak (which I'm obviously still struggling with from time to time) I need to accept Ty's death from every angle. So that's this week's goal. (When I shared my session with Dan, with tears in his eyes, he said he felt that shiver of the Spirit confirming how important it is that I do forgive myself---that it's what needs to be done for me to move on.)
I learned some other things about myself in this session. We talked about my belief system and how sometimes I have this "impending doom" belief in the future. I didn't realize it until Melissa asked about it, but the pessimist in me that something bad is going to happen tends to occur with things that are most important to me: marriage, Ty's safety, our baby girl's birth . . . Dan cured me of my fear of divorce with his patience and ability to help me feel secure. But then I moved on to fearing motherhood, then fearing for Ty's life, and now fearing our baby girl's life. Melissa asked if I believed something really will happen to this baby.
"No," I said, "I don't
really believe that SIDS would happen again. But I can't trust that it
won't." I guess since I was a child, I developed the idea that no matter what I
do, bad things can happen, even if I do everything I can to prevent it. And it's
safer to prepare for the worst than be hit unexpectedly. Rather than believe
that losing a child is the exception to the rule, in my mind, it has become the
rule. It happened and it could happen again. I still have to work on this one, I
guess.
One last thing Melissa reminded me was that the Lord plays a much huger role in life and death than people give Him credit for. If He had a purpose for Ty, it wouldn't matter what I tried to do to prevent his death. Ty was the Lord's to take Home when it was right.
I truly believe in therapy. I think everyone should get therapy, traumatic events aside. Therapy helps you figure out why you think the way you do, and it's validating to hear yourself (and someone else) say out loud how you feel. Somehow, talking really does help. I know I've talked about it A LOT already, and so many family members and friends have told me all the right things a hundred times over! I'm even a little embarrassed to admit all of this again, that yes, I've been struggling with the guilt piece. I'm sure people might feel like, "Seriously? You're still stuck on that?" I don't know . . . But it felt so good talking to Melissa. I would love to see her again. There was a very good spirit in her room and she was very intuitive and sensitive and seemed to understand me with minimal background information given. I guess I'm a pretty honest person though, too, so I'm sure that helps.
Whew, what a day! What a very good day.
One last thing Melissa reminded me was that the Lord plays a much huger role in life and death than people give Him credit for. If He had a purpose for Ty, it wouldn't matter what I tried to do to prevent his death. Ty was the Lord's to take Home when it was right.
I truly believe in therapy. I think everyone should get therapy, traumatic events aside. Therapy helps you figure out why you think the way you do, and it's validating to hear yourself (and someone else) say out loud how you feel. Somehow, talking really does help. I know I've talked about it A LOT already, and so many family members and friends have told me all the right things a hundred times over! I'm even a little embarrassed to admit all of this again, that yes, I've been struggling with the guilt piece. I'm sure people might feel like, "Seriously? You're still stuck on that?" I don't know . . . But it felt so good talking to Melissa. I would love to see her again. There was a very good spirit in her room and she was very intuitive and sensitive and seemed to understand me with minimal background information given. I guess I'm a pretty honest person though, too, so I'm sure that helps.
Whew, what a day! What a very good day.
Inviting Peace and Calm
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Over the last month or so at church, there seems to be an
emphasis on seeking the Holy Ghost. This past Sunday, I felt like all of
sacrament meeting and Relief Society focused on this very topic, as well as the
basics of scripture study and prayer.
Lately, I have been feeling antsy, like I'm not doing enough. I see all my friends and family busy with kids or work and here I am, with so much free time and I wonder all the time, "What am I doing??" The reason I didn't get a job was in hopes that I would be writing more or that a publishing opportunity would come my way already, so I'd be able to utilize the free-time. And I'm trying to write and work on Ty's book, which I'm making headway on in small chunks. But I don't know why it's been difficult for me to just sit and do it. Once I start writing, the words and thoughts eventually come, but it's getting to that point of being able to focus that I struggle with. I also waste a lot of time in the morning trying to convince myself that I want to workout because I always feel accomplished and so much better once I do. But I drag my feet! I have that irritating dissatisfaction with my life these days... The more we talk about graduating law school and having a baby and moving into our own house, the more I just want to be there right now! I feel tired of waiting, even though life right now is comfortable and I'm more or less content. But something is definitely going on here and I can't figure it out.
Over the last couple weeks, and especially the last few days, I've been thinking so much about starting my day off with a spiritual thought. It could be reading an ensign article, scriptures, a spiritual book... but I feel like I need to do something to get me back on track. I just had a thought that maybe the antsy-feeling I have is not about being physically busy, but reaching that spiritual peak that I'm gradually slipping from. I've talked about this before, but it truly takes effort to stay on top and to hold onto that precious feeling of peace and comfort and the Spirit. The things I need to be holding onto are the same: the basics of the gospel, including prayer, scripture study, and attending the temple. Those are the simple things that make us strong and spiritually minded on a daily basis. Those are the things that invite the Holy Ghost into our lives.
In the mail yesterday, I received a card from a woman in the ward I do not know. But I've read it a few times over now, treasuring her words:
Dear Sista Erica ~
Today when you told us the news of your daughter, my heart leapt with joy. One of my first weeks in the ward, you taught RS & mentioned your son. I was struck by the story then, but much more now. See, my older sista passed on before I was born as well. I wanted to tell you today: There have been MANY times in my life when I know she has been there, helped me, & guided me. It was impressed upon my mind today that it will be the same for your daughter. Your oldest son will continue in his role as the protective, oldest sibling in the lives of your children... just in another way. Thank you for your shining example of faith.
I'm grateful that this woman followed promptings to share these things with me. I am instantly reminded of the most important things in life--all of which I remember when I think of Ty. It doesn't really matter how much I exercise or how much I fill my day with errands or work. But I do need to climb back on top of that spiritual peak. The further I fall, the harder the climb.
I'm reminded of a funny memory a couple years ago when I went snow-shoeing for the first time with Dan and my brother, Ryan. Ryan took us on this crazy, unmarked trail up this mountain of snow. At one point, I was exhausted and kept slipping at one of the most steep parts of the path Ryan had paved for us. I simply could not make it up the slope! Ryan, skilled and full of over-zealous, inexplicable energy, came back for me. Positioning himself behind me, he shoved my rump up that incline with his shoulder and hands until I was on even ground again! By the end of it, I didn't know if I was more fatigued from the climb or laughing so hard!
It's a hilarious yet somewhat sentimental memory to me at the same time. Ryan was more experienced and had the skills to assist me when I was down. In regards to the Holy Ghost and spiritual matters, I think about that all the time: How we each need to be assisting each other when we're feeling strong. We can do that by sharing our experiences, our testimonies, or even day-to-day advice that makes our days run smoother.
I'm feeling better now. And even though I'm sitting here in my pajamas, with unkempt hair and no make-up at twelve-thirty pm, I'm feeling a little accomplished...because I've taken the time to work through an inner-struggle, replacing it with the peace and Spirit I should always be looking for.
Lately, I have been feeling antsy, like I'm not doing enough. I see all my friends and family busy with kids or work and here I am, with so much free time and I wonder all the time, "What am I doing??" The reason I didn't get a job was in hopes that I would be writing more or that a publishing opportunity would come my way already, so I'd be able to utilize the free-time. And I'm trying to write and work on Ty's book, which I'm making headway on in small chunks. But I don't know why it's been difficult for me to just sit and do it. Once I start writing, the words and thoughts eventually come, but it's getting to that point of being able to focus that I struggle with. I also waste a lot of time in the morning trying to convince myself that I want to workout because I always feel accomplished and so much better once I do. But I drag my feet! I have that irritating dissatisfaction with my life these days... The more we talk about graduating law school and having a baby and moving into our own house, the more I just want to be there right now! I feel tired of waiting, even though life right now is comfortable and I'm more or less content. But something is definitely going on here and I can't figure it out.
Over the last couple weeks, and especially the last few days, I've been thinking so much about starting my day off with a spiritual thought. It could be reading an ensign article, scriptures, a spiritual book... but I feel like I need to do something to get me back on track. I just had a thought that maybe the antsy-feeling I have is not about being physically busy, but reaching that spiritual peak that I'm gradually slipping from. I've talked about this before, but it truly takes effort to stay on top and to hold onto that precious feeling of peace and comfort and the Spirit. The things I need to be holding onto are the same: the basics of the gospel, including prayer, scripture study, and attending the temple. Those are the simple things that make us strong and spiritually minded on a daily basis. Those are the things that invite the Holy Ghost into our lives.
In the mail yesterday, I received a card from a woman in the ward I do not know. But I've read it a few times over now, treasuring her words:
Dear Sista Erica ~
Today when you told us the news of your daughter, my heart leapt with joy. One of my first weeks in the ward, you taught RS & mentioned your son. I was struck by the story then, but much more now. See, my older sista passed on before I was born as well. I wanted to tell you today: There have been MANY times in my life when I know she has been there, helped me, & guided me. It was impressed upon my mind today that it will be the same for your daughter. Your oldest son will continue in his role as the protective, oldest sibling in the lives of your children... just in another way. Thank you for your shining example of faith.
I'm grateful that this woman followed promptings to share these things with me. I am instantly reminded of the most important things in life--all of which I remember when I think of Ty. It doesn't really matter how much I exercise or how much I fill my day with errands or work. But I do need to climb back on top of that spiritual peak. The further I fall, the harder the climb.
I'm reminded of a funny memory a couple years ago when I went snow-shoeing for the first time with Dan and my brother, Ryan. Ryan took us on this crazy, unmarked trail up this mountain of snow. At one point, I was exhausted and kept slipping at one of the most steep parts of the path Ryan had paved for us. I simply could not make it up the slope! Ryan, skilled and full of over-zealous, inexplicable energy, came back for me. Positioning himself behind me, he shoved my rump up that incline with his shoulder and hands until I was on even ground again! By the end of it, I didn't know if I was more fatigued from the climb or laughing so hard!
It's a hilarious yet somewhat sentimental memory to me at the same time. Ryan was more experienced and had the skills to assist me when I was down. In regards to the Holy Ghost and spiritual matters, I think about that all the time: How we each need to be assisting each other when we're feeling strong. We can do that by sharing our experiences, our testimonies, or even day-to-day advice that makes our days run smoother.
I'm feeling better now. And even though I'm sitting here in my pajamas, with unkempt hair and no make-up at twelve-thirty pm, I'm feeling a little accomplished...because I've taken the time to work through an inner-struggle, replacing it with the peace and Spirit I should always be looking for.
Cycling Through These Emotions
Friday, December 10, 2010
I had to attend a breastfeeding class today. I was among
a small circle of pregnant women, most of whom were going to be first-time moms.
The class was going along fine, but I could feel myself growing more
anxious with each passing minute. As the instructor talked about those newborn
moments of learning how to breastfeed, as well as in the months to come, so many
precious memories flashed through my mind... Me and my little Ty-Guy,
figuring out breastfeeding together. The instructor, who only knew that I'm
pregnant with my second child, kept looking at me and saying, "You know how it
is" or comments like that. Nobody thinks to ask if your baby is still alive. Why
would they?
I would nod my head with a small smile that started to waver as the class progressed. My toes started twitching nervously inside my boots, and my arms and legs crossed around my body as though trying to hold myself together. When the instructor brought up SIDS and the higher correlation between formula-fed babies, I knew I was going to start hyperventilating if the class continued much longer. I forced myself to manage my quickening breaths. I hate hearing about SIDS from a purely medical or scientific view point. It evokes too many emotions--some of which I've spent a lot of time working through and hope to 100% put behind me, if that's even possible. I couldn't get out of that class soon enough.
I didn't want to bother Dan, who has been studying and taking exams like crazy this week. But I knew I needed to call him. I barely made it seven words before I broke down in the car, fortunately still sitting in the parking lot while on the phone with him. I just needed to let it out. Despite my initial refusal, I relented and met Dan at law school. He sat in the car with me and let me bawl some more. He said all the right things about Ty, and we smiled and laughed about our happy times as a family. We really had so many, and luckily, caught quite a few on video. I love my little family.
Even with winter killing all the trees and greenery, the Provo cemetery still looks wonderful. In all these years that I've driven past it, I've never noticed how absolutely beautiful the cemetery is, even on a dreary, cold day in December. There may not be flowers and leaves blooming anymore, but the grounds are covered in Christmas wreaths and candy-canes, some lights and small-trees... and so much love. Walking along the headstones, the amount of love is almost tangible, with evidence of so many people caring about their loved ones. We have a small pot of evergreens to put beside Ty before we leave for New Zealand. I want to get a few more items though. I don't like that we'll be away from his grave site...but since we're moving to Las Vegas, it's something I'll have to get used to anyway.
In working on Ty's book, I've been organizing my blog entries and breaking down each month to remember what was happening for me, emotionally, at those times. It's interesting to see the different parts of the Grief Cycle making their way into my life, as well as the spiritual matters. I have also noticed how the devastating entries about Ty are diminishing in frequency... I have mixed feelings about that, but I guess it's a good thing--a sign of progression. Dan and I are still doing a lot of fun things our lives, and that would make Ty happy.
I would nod my head with a small smile that started to waver as the class progressed. My toes started twitching nervously inside my boots, and my arms and legs crossed around my body as though trying to hold myself together. When the instructor brought up SIDS and the higher correlation between formula-fed babies, I knew I was going to start hyperventilating if the class continued much longer. I forced myself to manage my quickening breaths. I hate hearing about SIDS from a purely medical or scientific view point. It evokes too many emotions--some of which I've spent a lot of time working through and hope to 100% put behind me, if that's even possible. I couldn't get out of that class soon enough.
I didn't want to bother Dan, who has been studying and taking exams like crazy this week. But I knew I needed to call him. I barely made it seven words before I broke down in the car, fortunately still sitting in the parking lot while on the phone with him. I just needed to let it out. Despite my initial refusal, I relented and met Dan at law school. He sat in the car with me and let me bawl some more. He said all the right things about Ty, and we smiled and laughed about our happy times as a family. We really had so many, and luckily, caught quite a few on video. I love my little family.
Even with winter killing all the trees and greenery, the Provo cemetery still looks wonderful. In all these years that I've driven past it, I've never noticed how absolutely beautiful the cemetery is, even on a dreary, cold day in December. There may not be flowers and leaves blooming anymore, but the grounds are covered in Christmas wreaths and candy-canes, some lights and small-trees... and so much love. Walking along the headstones, the amount of love is almost tangible, with evidence of so many people caring about their loved ones. We have a small pot of evergreens to put beside Ty before we leave for New Zealand. I want to get a few more items though. I don't like that we'll be away from his grave site...but since we're moving to Las Vegas, it's something I'll have to get used to anyway.
In working on Ty's book, I've been organizing my blog entries and breaking down each month to remember what was happening for me, emotionally, at those times. It's interesting to see the different parts of the Grief Cycle making their way into my life, as well as the spiritual matters. I have also noticed how the devastating entries about Ty are diminishing in frequency... I have mixed feelings about that, but I guess it's a good thing--a sign of progression. Dan and I are still doing a lot of fun things our lives, and that would make Ty happy.
Not Too Far Away
Monday, December 6, 2010
A few days ago, I was working on Ty's book. It's been a
while since I've attempted anymore writing, so I spent some time reviewing an
earlier chapter. The section I was reading was a summary of some of the events
that took place in the first month, one of which involves how close I felt to
the comfort of the Spirit, and the surety of my knowledge that Ty "was
indeed somewhere and just as alive as
when I held him in my arms. I just couldn’t see him anymore".
I paused my reading, looking up to the digital frame that rotates through my favorite pictures of Ty every day. My own words and emotions struck me again, just as fervently as they did the very day that I sat beside his unmarked grave. Sitting in the living room, my eyes flooded with tears and my heart swelled. But the tears that fell were not just because I missed him. I was overcome with such a strong feeling that Ty was right there beside me, his sweet spirit engulfing the room with his presence.
"Hi, Baby..." I said, closing my eyes as so much emotion and something more wrapped tightly around me. "I love you."
I haven't yet had very many experiences as distinct as this one--maybe not since the funeral. And after only a minute, the feeling was gone. But I cannot deny what I felt, and hope the more I acknowledge these gifts from Heavenly Father that they will come more frequently. A good friend promised me I would learn to recognize these moments more often. I believe more and more that this is true.
If only I could feel Ty like that everyday... I believe he checks in more often than I realize. I'm so grateful for the times I can recognize them.
I paused my reading, looking up to the digital frame that rotates through my favorite pictures of Ty every day. My own words and emotions struck me again, just as fervently as they did the very day that I sat beside his unmarked grave. Sitting in the living room, my eyes flooded with tears and my heart swelled. But the tears that fell were not just because I missed him. I was overcome with such a strong feeling that Ty was right there beside me, his sweet spirit engulfing the room with his presence.
"Hi, Baby..." I said, closing my eyes as so much emotion and something more wrapped tightly around me. "I love you."
I haven't yet had very many experiences as distinct as this one--maybe not since the funeral. And after only a minute, the feeling was gone. But I cannot deny what I felt, and hope the more I acknowledge these gifts from Heavenly Father that they will come more frequently. A good friend promised me I would learn to recognize these moments more often. I believe more and more that this is true.
If only I could feel Ty like that everyday... I believe he checks in more often than I realize. I'm so grateful for the times I can recognize them.
Voices of Children
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
On Sunday we listened to the Primary Program. I always
look forward to this day, smiling and sometimes laughing softly at the sweet
little faces and voices sharing their thoughts on Jesus and the gospel in the
simplest, most beautiful ways. The theme this year is, "I Know My Savior Loves
Me," which is also the title of a newer primary song I had never heard
before.
When the room filled with their precious voices, accompanied by the piano and the ringing of hand-bells throughout the chorus, my heart filled with the spirit. I know I was not the only one crying -- or trying not to sob, more like it.Their sweet, high-pitched voices touched my soul, and I had an image of my little Ty come to mind: as he would be now as a young toddler being held by Christ, laughing and embraced in his arms. I know even as a baby he knew of Christ's love with his pure spirit still not so far from Heaven. I was reminded on Sunday not to underestimate the knowledge and teachings that can come from little children.
(Picture taken
from my Greg Olsen calendar. It's the picture from March 2010. I love it so
much.)
Last Wednesday, I babysat Adelyn for the afternoon up in Murray. After Emily left, Addie was pretty mellow and calm, her body gearing up for her nap. I pulled out a small framed picture of Ty when he was 5 weeks old and held it out in front of Addie.
"This is baby, Ty. Do you know baby Ty?" I said to her. Addie's little hands grabbed the frame and she pulled it inches away from her face, staring at his picture with sudden intrigue and intensity. Her hand tapped up and down on the glass with energy. "Can you give baby Ty a kiss?" Addie slowly pulled the picture to her mouth, landing an open-mouthed slobber on his face and just held the picture there for a few moments before pulling back and staring at his picture again.
Tears touched my eyes and I held her tightly and kissed her head, feeling with such certainty that even at 8 months, she knew what I was saying, and she did indeed recognize and know Ty. She played with the frame for some time, and as I watched her behave as a baby does, I wondered off and on if I had just imagined it. But no -- I could not just create that sure feeling of the Spirit, even as momentary as it was. It is these small testimonies that I hold close to my heart that give me so much strength and comfort as I remember that families are forever, and Jesus loves our little ones.
(Verse 1)
A long time ago in a beautiful place,
children were gathered ‘round Jesus
He blessed and taught as they felt of His love.
Each saw the tears on His face.
The love that He felt for His little ones
I know He feels for me.
I did not touch Him or sit on his knee,
Yet Jesus is real to me.
(Verse 2)
Now I am here in a beautiful place,
Learning the teachings of Jesus.
Parents and teachers will help guide the way,
Lighting my path ev’ry day.
Wrapped in the arms of my Savior’s love,
I feel His gentle touch.
Living each day, I will follow His way,
Home to my Father above.
Chorus:
I know he lives!
I will follow faithfully.
My heart I give to Him.
I know that my Savior loves me!
When the room filled with their precious voices, accompanied by the piano and the ringing of hand-bells throughout the chorus, my heart filled with the spirit. I know I was not the only one crying -- or trying not to sob, more like it.Their sweet, high-pitched voices touched my soul, and I had an image of my little Ty come to mind: as he would be now as a young toddler being held by Christ, laughing and embraced in his arms. I know even as a baby he knew of Christ's love with his pure spirit still not so far from Heaven. I was reminded on Sunday not to underestimate the knowledge and teachings that can come from little children.
Last Wednesday, I babysat Adelyn for the afternoon up in Murray. After Emily left, Addie was pretty mellow and calm, her body gearing up for her nap. I pulled out a small framed picture of Ty when he was 5 weeks old and held it out in front of Addie.
"This is baby, Ty. Do you know baby Ty?" I said to her. Addie's little hands grabbed the frame and she pulled it inches away from her face, staring at his picture with sudden intrigue and intensity. Her hand tapped up and down on the glass with energy. "Can you give baby Ty a kiss?" Addie slowly pulled the picture to her mouth, landing an open-mouthed slobber on his face and just held the picture there for a few moments before pulling back and staring at his picture again.
Tears touched my eyes and I held her tightly and kissed her head, feeling with such certainty that even at 8 months, she knew what I was saying, and she did indeed recognize and know Ty. She played with the frame for some time, and as I watched her behave as a baby does, I wondered off and on if I had just imagined it. But no -- I could not just create that sure feeling of the Spirit, even as momentary as it was. It is these small testimonies that I hold close to my heart that give me so much strength and comfort as I remember that families are forever, and Jesus loves our little ones.
"I Know
My Savior Loves Me"
by Tami Jeppson Creamer & Derena Bell
(Verse 1)
A long time ago in a beautiful place,
children were gathered ‘round Jesus
He blessed and taught as they felt of His love.
Each saw the tears on His face.
The love that He felt for His little ones
I know He feels for me.
I did not touch Him or sit on his knee,
Yet Jesus is real to me.
(Verse 2)
Now I am here in a beautiful place,
Learning the teachings of Jesus.
Parents and teachers will help guide the way,
Lighting my path ev’ry day.
Wrapped in the arms of my Savior’s love,
I feel His gentle touch.
Living each day, I will follow His way,
Home to my Father above.
Chorus:
I know he lives!
I will follow faithfully.
My heart I give to Him.
I know that my Savior loves me!
From One Mother to Another
Monday, November 8, 2010
I spoke with a mother tonight who lost her 3 1/2
month-old son to SIDS three years ago. Q is the older sister of one of my
college roommates, both of whom offered me support when they found out Ty passed
away. Q called me tonight and we were able to talk for the first time,
sharing our very similar experiences. While I was not crying, my whole body was
trembling for the first twenty minutes that we spoke. I wasn't overwhelmed with
sadness, but for some reason I couldn't stop shaking. Perhaps it was just
knowing that Q could truly feel everything I was saying, and I could feel
everything she was saying. I couldn't believe how much we could understand each
other--in how that awful morning played out, to the grief, the healing,
immediate desires of pregnancy...and fears following birth of a new child. Of
course, I haven't experienced that last one yet, but the anticipation is there.
In speaking with Q, I think I kind of hoped she would tell me that the night-time fear goes away. That is not the case. We talked about the use of sensory monitors that will alert parents of lack of movement or breathing. Dan and I have talked about using that for our own sanity, though pediatricians don't recommend it because of the false alarms and unnecessary panic it can cause. But I was told tonight it does bring more peace than anything else. I've wondered before, "Knowing what I know--that Ty fulfilled his plan on earth and Heavenly Father called him Home, and there was nothing I could do about it, I shouldn't be afraid." But I am mortal and I am afraid. I am not perfect, and may have to accept that night-times are one more area in my life where I will face challenges in working through these feelings.
While Q and I instantly bonded over our grief, I was more uplifted by hearing about her healing. I am comforted knowing she has had two more children, and that her baby who passed away is a regular part of their family, along with her two older children. Life has continued for her. She has survived and progressed, and still loves her sweet son more deeply than even before. She offered me hope tonight, and that is something I am always looking for. It's strange to think that one day I will be where she is. I long for it it, yet feel hesitant at the same time to leave behind what I know and live daily right now. But I will be there when I'm ready, I suppose.
I feel more encouraged than I all ready am to continue writing Ty's story, which really is more like "our story" as I reflect on both Dan's and my feelings through this process. There is something helpful--something healing--about sharing experiences with others, both the good and the bad.
I am grateful for the support in my life and for all the love I've been able to feel. People need people! I hope I continue to be lead towards people who can help me, so I can one day return the favor to them or through helping others.
In speaking with Q, I think I kind of hoped she would tell me that the night-time fear goes away. That is not the case. We talked about the use of sensory monitors that will alert parents of lack of movement or breathing. Dan and I have talked about using that for our own sanity, though pediatricians don't recommend it because of the false alarms and unnecessary panic it can cause. But I was told tonight it does bring more peace than anything else. I've wondered before, "Knowing what I know--that Ty fulfilled his plan on earth and Heavenly Father called him Home, and there was nothing I could do about it, I shouldn't be afraid." But I am mortal and I am afraid. I am not perfect, and may have to accept that night-times are one more area in my life where I will face challenges in working through these feelings.
While Q and I instantly bonded over our grief, I was more uplifted by hearing about her healing. I am comforted knowing she has had two more children, and that her baby who passed away is a regular part of their family, along with her two older children. Life has continued for her. She has survived and progressed, and still loves her sweet son more deeply than even before. She offered me hope tonight, and that is something I am always looking for. It's strange to think that one day I will be where she is. I long for it it, yet feel hesitant at the same time to leave behind what I know and live daily right now. But I will be there when I'm ready, I suppose.
I feel more encouraged than I all ready am to continue writing Ty's story, which really is more like "our story" as I reflect on both Dan's and my feelings through this process. There is something helpful--something healing--about sharing experiences with others, both the good and the bad.
I am grateful for the support in my life and for all the love I've been able to feel. People need people! I hope I continue to be lead towards people who can help me, so I can one day return the favor to them or through helping others.
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