Answers to My Prayers

I am continually in awe when I am reminded that the Lord knows what we need, even before we realize we need it. What I write now is in reference to my guilt-induced post from yesterday. Dealing with grief can be very confusing, especially when we are removed from being spiritually fed on a daily basis. I think that goes for life in general. Life can seem so dismal when our focus is on earthly distractions, as President Uchtdorf referenced in his talk this morning.

I prayed yesterday and today before conference to find answers to the trouble I've been feeling again, hoping to hear a talk on how a person forgives themselves for a non-sin-related issue -- like guilt over a child's death. But I also told Heavenly Father that I was not sure what I needed to hear, but that I would hear something that would bring me direction and comfort.

Every talk one after the other was so good! But the two that struck me were first, Craig C. Christensen who spoke about the Holy Ghost and how the Holy Ghost can bring peace and comfort beyond our understanding. His words helped remind me of the incredible, undeniable Spirit we felt after Ty's funeral.

This talk lead perfectly into Shayne M. Bowen's talk where he shared his experience of losing his 8-month-old son, who aspirated on a piece of chalk. His description of that anxious fear waiting in the hospital while the doctors worked on his son . . . and then those devastating, life-changing words from the doctor, apologizing that nothing more could be done was so reminiscent of our own experience. I touched Dan beside me who was crying, and who continued to remember what it felt like to be a father afraid of the dark, unable to sleep, and wondering what could have been done.

The tormenting guilt that Elder Bowen felt was understood by us both. I soaked up every word he spoke, taking notes on:
-How he prayed for a change of heart
- Was given to known he had not been robbed and should look forward with hope, not despair.
-The Spirit World is real, the veil is thin.

And what brought me peace was hearing him say that it was ok not to "fully get over it" because even with the knowledge of the gospel, we are still separated and will not experience that full joy until we are together again. But in the mean time, that bitter pain can be sweetened through Heavenly Father and relying on the Atonement.

I loved that he spoke about remembering the peace felt at the funeral. My heart was so touched by the Holy Ghost during this talk, and I felt with all assurance that rather than focusing on guilt and forgiving myself, I need to continually remember how enveloped with the Spirit that Chapel was on March 13th, 2010. There was such peace and calmness that flooded the room that everyone had to feel the presence of Spirits from the other side present and confirming that all is well.

Even if I don't understand how or why Ty died, what I felt during the funeral and in the weeks leading up to and following his burial was real and inexplicably calming. Something that good could not come from something bad . . . right?

It's how I feel about the gospel. I do not know all things. I don't understand every concept. But I choose to focus on the things I have felt a testimony of. If I have felt it in one area of this gospel, the rest must also be right and I will understand one day. I am reminded today to take this practice into my thoughts with Ty's death. I must remember the peace and Spirit I felt, and always feel when I immerse myself in spiritual matters.

I feel so loved by Heavenly Father today that I could be in a mental place where I could hear these inspired words and be touched by them according to my needs. I have a testimony of prayer, and when I use it with heart-felt sincerity, the Lord answers them. He does! and why I do not make the effort to do so more often is something I need to work on.

Today I feel released from guilt, and while this may not always last, I have another experience to lean on when I falter in the future. I am comforted to know that leaders of our church have experienced these same feelings and still have conviction for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day-Saints.

I love general conference. Hope you are enjoying this weekend!

It Begins Again

Since becoming pregnant, I have found myself checking the baby monitor at night more frequently, even though Aiyana is an almost-17-month-old toddler and not a baby I need to worry about. The early mornings have my mind wondering, "She's ok right? Of course she's ok. . ." and yet, a tiny bit of nerves makes me click on the monitor anyway.

Ugh. It's beginning again. It's beginning all ready.

I've found myself trying to convince myself that surely, it won't be as hard as last time when Aiyana was born - -that I will not have that permanent anxious weight on my chest all day and night with my new little boy. I haven't let go of that hope, but I know having a newborn, in all its fragile-state through the first few months, is always going to be triggering, and always going to be hard.

My thoughts have often been revisiting my last therapy session in Provo, as of late, which was in January 2011. "Since you cannot rationally convince yourself that you were not at fault for your son's death, you need to learn to forgive yourself," my therapist had said. It was an assignment I had taken on, though I'm not sure I followed through well enough. It's just too hard to convince myself that I was at fault, but impossible to fully believe that I wasn't.

I know, I know. We've been over this, and around this, and yet here I am again. Even I am rolling my eyes at myself, thinking, "Really? Come on, you need to let this go." I still can't. I don't think about it all the time, but since becoming pregnant I have been, even reading SIDS articles about babies re- breathing carbon dioxide when a blanket is over them. . . which it was. And yes, Ty was strong and could lift his head and roll, so it doesn't make sense that he would be in danger. Often times, I think the blanket concern is for younger, newer babies with less movement control. But then I continue to read that babies with risk for SIDS are at risk because something is not right with their brain stem that would tell a "normal" baby to reposition away from inhaling trapped carbon dioxide. . . and so I find myself back to where I was so long ago. . . It could have been prevented. The one night I used that different, bigger blanket might have made all the difference.

And yet Dan still remembers and stands by the blessing he received from our Bishop, stating clearly that Dan knew before this life that he would lose a son. . .

I wish I just knew for sure one way or another so I could walk the path I need. If I'm at fault, I just need to know. Why is it important? Because guilt, more so than even learning to live with Ty missing from our lives, ever nags me from a small corner -- sometimes edging out further and stronger when I can't reign it back in, a nasty little demon from my personal Hell.

So I need to pretend. . . or accept? that I was partly at fault -- an accident, of course, like parents who might feel responsible for an accidental drowning or hitting their child with a car. I wish I could talk to someone who's been through that. The question is coming to me more frequently, "How do I forgive myself? How do I get over the fact that perhaps I could have a three-year-old running around with his cousins, playing with Aiyana and preparing to be a big brother?" I have no answer. Just conviction that I need to follow through with this assignment because no one can convince me 100% otherwise that all is as intended.

There's a mother's blog I read not too long ago whose daughter drowned on vacation. On her daughter's "Angelversary" (day of her death) she chose to honor her daughter by encouraging everyone to forgive someone, like this mother tries to do for herself. It was in August, and I went through the motions of letting go a white balloon for this little girl, as well as a white balloon with the words, "I forgive . . ." to represent forgiving myself. I didn't really feel anything for me, but it was a start and is a push in the right direction.

So, here I go on another personal journey, seeking forgiveness with help from Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ to know how to do this. Is it possible? Really? I don't know. I'm not sure how it is but I have to try 100% this time and see what happens. Maybe I'll find an answer during Conference this weekend.

Little One #3

I woke up so many times last name, hoping it was time to get up—to start our morning with finding out the gender of our baby. 8:30 Am arrived at last as Dan and I waited for our appointment. I could barely contain the excited nerves in my stomach, my foot bopping up and down restlessly. Only running a few minutes behind schedule, we were called in.

As jelly was rubbed on my tummy, the ultra-sound tech commented about how she was going to look through the anatomy: the heart, the lungs, the brain . . . I jumped in with, “and the gender . . .”, smiling when she picked up on my“hint-hint-can-we-find-that-out-sooner-than-later??"

I only had to wait a few minutes before she found the appropriate position. Before the ultra-sound tech even said it, Dan noticed right away. “It’s a boy, isn’t it?” The tech smiled and said, “Yes, how did you know?” and seemed impressed with Dan’s ability. Dan laughed. “Well, it’s sitting right there.” I, of course, did not see anything right away. Dan’s always better and deciphering the images than I am, so I questioned, almost afraid to really believe, “Is it really a boy?”

When the tech confirmed, my eyes welled up and my soul felt a thousand emotions past and present, and I sobbed audibly. I remembered when we found out Ty was a boy, and I felt his birth, his life, his loss. It’s amazing how much the body can experience in only seconds. And I felt sheer happiness and gratitude.

Dan explained to the technician, “We have a boy but he passed away.”

While I continued to cry, accepting the fistful of tissues to catch the make-up that I hadn’t expected to run all over my face, she asked, “Does this baby have a name?”

“Aaron Ty Kiefer.” It sounded so beautiful.

I don’t know how the ultra-sound tech continued to explore anymore with how my stomach was bouncing around with my tears, but I eventually calmed down after a couple more minutes, smiling in awe of the cute figure on the screen and quietly relishing in the fact that I have the opportunity to raise another boy. I could not feel more excited or more grateful.

Dan later said to me, “So do I need to say it?”

“What?”

He continued, “You were right, and I was wrong.”

I laughed (like that was even in question), but said, “I don’t care about being right. But I did just know somehow. Are you happy still?” Of course, he is. He really, really is. He smiled and held my hand tightly through the whole experience.

It’s been interesting anticipating this gender. With Ty, we both hoped for a girl and didn’t have any real expectations. With Aiyana, I hoped for a boy, but felt it was probably a girl. With this baby, I just knew from the start it was a boy, with more conviction than I felt with Aiyana. Hers was a hunch. This one just had to be a boy though, and I would have been shocked to hear it was a girl. Still happy, of course, but it just feels so right to me that we’re having a boy now.

I feel like I need this to add yet another page to my grief and healing compilation. I have yet to go through Ty’s clothes and belongings since we packed them away two-and-a-half years ago. I’ve been waiting . . . and now, I can decide which articles of clothing I could bear to see on another baby, and which ones I will need to stay in their current condition and state, with memories only for Ty. I know a few of them all ready, most of which are from favorite pictures. I don’t know how it will feel exactly, though Dan made me promise not to do it alone. So we’ll do it together one of these weekends.

It’s crazy how knowing one fact can propel me through so many thoughts and emotions, opening a heavy door with a very long hallway of unknown up ahead. . .