Blog Avoidance

I've kind of been avoiding the blog lately.  I guess it's sort of two-fold.  For starters, there have been some pretty heavy-hearted happenings in my world in recent weeks, but some of them are not mine to share.  And I haven't known how to write honestly without mentioning them.  So I simply haven't written.  But they've taken a toll, and I've felt their weight.  In a way they all center around loss, though in varying forms -- people dear to us (what a gross understatement) moving away, another heart family losing their baby boy, and a friend walking a really hard road.

We learned in grief counseling that new griefs penetrate the surface and bring up old griefs, and that has certainly been true the last few weeks.  On the night we learned of our loved ones moving away, I felt the return of that horrible, gut-wrenching, earth-shattering ache that I carried around for months after Samuel died -- the one where it was hard to breathe, to speak, to function.  Bryan and I were both overwhelmed with sorrow at the news of the move, and I couldn't bring myself to say a single word for the rest of the night.  I felt crushed under grief once again.  And I realized how much I haven't missed that almost unbearable weight.  It also made me realize just how much God has healed us over the last two+ years.  It used to be that the weight was a constant companion, but it had been a long time since I'd felt it again.  That night I kept thinking over and over again, "I can't do this," but in the morning I woke with an assurance that God is with us, and He will be enough yet again.

I found myself heavy-hearted once again as I followed a heart family's journey.  I hurt deeply for them in the loss of their son, Thomas, and I flash back to our time at Egleston, our fresh grief, our struggle to face each new day.  I ache for anyone who has to walk this road of sorrow.  And yet, I have such hope for the mighty work God will do in them because of their son.  I treasure what God has done in me, and I stand in expectation at how He will reveal Himself in and to them.

I guess the second reason for my blog avoidance is that the three weighty circumstances going on around me have made me rather blue and have resulted in some pretty blue thoughts, and I hesitate to paint my blueness on others.  I wouldn't say my days have been dominated by sorrow or heaviness; in fact I've had lots and lots of joy and laughter and fun, but my blog-related thoughts have been darker, and I've shied away from sharing them.  For some reason I keep having an image of our time in the hospital flash through my head, and it makes my stomach sink every time.  I keep picturing one day when I was at Samuel's bedside alone.  (I think Bryan was praying in the hospital's chapel.)  I was overcome with sorrow that day, and I laid my head down next to Samuel's and wept.  When I think of that day, I imagine it as it looked to our nurse or a doctor walking by or even someone in the entrance hall as our dock was pretty much the first thing you saw when you looked into the CICU.  My agony must have been evident to anyone who so much as glanced over, and when I picture it, my heart is filled with pain.  I can't explain why that image came to mind (it happened during a worship song at church, and I'm sure the lyrics triggered it, but I can't even remember what song it was) or why it has stuck around, but it kind of sums up how I've been feeling lately when I think about writing on here -- just feels uncharacteristically heavy for over two years after Samuel's death.

Apart from those things, life has been joyful lately.  Bryan's sister came to visit last week, and that was wonderful.  Anna Pea took to her, which was precious.  The boys continue to adore Anna.  Today Caleb said he wishes he could have a whole day with nothing to do but stare at Anna.  He called her "the cutest thing that ever lived."  And Joel is always thinking about Anna.  When asked what he was thankful for on Thanksgiving, he answered, "my baby sister" without hesitation.  A couple of days ago when the boys were playing by Anna, Caleb suggested they head upstairs, and Joel immediately protested, "No!  We can't leave Anna!  She would be lonely."  Joel proposes to Anna regularly with variations on, "Anna Pea, will you marry me?"  The way these brothers love their baby sister is amazing.

Ok, maybe now that I have this post out the way, I will be a bit more diligent about posting.  Here are some photos of the last month in my blogging absence.  All but the first two were taken by Marta (Bryan's sister) or at least with her snazzy camera.

At Caleb's school Thanksgiving Feast with all his hard work.  That's our family totem pole Caleb is holding up.  Each of us is an animal.  Caleb wanted to include Samuel.  From top to bottom, it's Samuel the bunny, Caleb the eagle, Anna the bear, Joel the turkey, Daddy the wolf, and Momma the cat.

Anna and Daddy enjoying the Thanksgiving Feast

I love her.

One of my favorites.  I am so, so crazy about this baby girl.

Our Beauty.  Or as I often call her "Button."

Two cuties

Joel's laughter is one of my favorite sounds in the world.  What a fabulous kid.

Anna and her Auntie Marta

Anna kisses

Auntie Marta with her nephews.  Caleb was reading Encyclopedia Brown out loud to M&J.

Love that face.  Such a Joel expression.

And this face.  Love it too!

Playing make-believe.  With protective goggles, a bike helmet, and a lacrosse stick, naturally.

My three sweeties.  Can't imagine life without them and can hardly remember life before them.

Caleb's Baptism

Our sweet Caleb has been asking to be baptized for a long time, and this past weekend his wish finally came true.  Bryan got to baptize Caleb on Sunday, and 34 of our friends and family showed up to cheer for him and celebrate his faith in Christ.  I am so, so proud of our boy.  And I am humbled to be his mom.  What an indescribable gift he is to us!  I am also touched and grateful that God has used Samuel's life to grow Caleb's faith. Samuel is a part of each of us trusting our good God more fully, and I love that.

Here is Caleb's "story."  He came up with what to say all on his own, and these are his own words.

This one is of Bryan doing the baptism.  I cried.  As did everyone around me. 

It was such an incredibly special day, and afterwards Caleb said, "I wish I could live this day over and over again."  So sweet.

Caleb's picture up on the big screen

Some of Caleb's cheering section

Ready to be baptized -- and so excited!

It was an impressive production.

Bryan baptizing Caleb.  Caleb was a bouncy, happy fellow up there.

Praying over Caleb

The party afterwards

My mom came in town for the big day

Brothers and cupcakes (Joel was riled up from his first ever mini Mountain Dew and 2 cupcakes!  Wow, did they do a number on him!)

With Emily

With his small group leaders -- Miss Courtney and Miss Cassandra

Recent Pictures -- Vacation, Halloween, and More

Anna's first time on the beach

Caleb running on Kiawah Island Beach

Family bike rides

Though this looks like two sweet brothers, they threw a mini-fit about taking it.  :)

Joel regularly asks me to take his picture with Anna.  This is one of those times.

Tandem bike -- Caleb started the week terrified of riding this.  In the end he loved it.

Anna's first time in the exersaucer

Siblings!

Joel at Burt's Farm

Jango Fett, Anna Pea, and Buzz Lightyear

This is from my birthday -- Best.BirthdayPresent.Ever.

The Current of Grief

I love being a momma more than I can say, and I find fulfillment in being one.  It's what I was made to do, what I've always longed for, and the culmination of my dreams and desires.  Though a driven and exemplary student from elementary school through college, my aspiration was never some achievement or occupation.  It was motherhood.  In some ways, I fit into the 1950's model of what a woman should be -- home and happy with it (though in other ways not at all since I can barely balance in heels, seem to put a run in hose within minutes of donning them, and rarely bother to blow dry my hair, much less wear it perfectly coiffed).  Many of my friends get stir crazy when they can't get out of the house for a day, but not me.  It's my favorite kind of day -- with no place we have to be and lounging at home with all my kids.  In January of this year, we had a snowstorm that left people housebound for a good 5 days.  Most of my friends were pulling their hair out on day two.  For me, those days were positively heavenly.  Within motherhood, babies are my sweet spot.  I find myself especially fulfilled when I have a baby to care for and tend to.  So these days with Caleb, Joel, and Anna should be perfection itself.

So why, I keep asking myself, have my quiet moments with Anna Pea been laced with sorrow?  Why is there an underlying sadness these days?  Why are my snuggles with my sweet baby girl tinged with grief?  In the still moments, my heart feels heavy.  Why is that?  I can't help but wonder if it has to do with Samuel.  It's been some time since I've taken time to grieve intentionally.  Bryan has been working crazy hours lately (60-70 hours a week -- and that's without including the time he spends on his seminary classes), and I'm sure that factors into how I'm feeling, but I keep thinking the root cause is Samuel.  I wonder if subconsciously I'm keenly aware that I probably wouldn't have many quiet moments with Anna if our Samuel was here.  A two year old -- much less one with severe heart defects! -- would take far more time and intentional parenting than my relatively independent 4 and 6 year olds do.  When Joel (who is 23 months younger than Caleb) was a baby, the only quiet times I had with him were the late night and middle of the night feedings.  Anna is 23 months younger than Samuel, but I get quiet times with her throughout the day as well as one morning a week with just her.  That wouldn't be true if her big brother was alive.  I would be one busy (and harried?) momma.

I also wonder if part of my heavy-heartedness is fear.  Sometimes I hug Anna close and my heart sinks when I contemplate ever losing her -- to sickness, unexpected tragedy, or maybe more likely rebellion or a broken relationship with us.  Honestly, I have been surprisingly unfearful in Anna's life.  Before Samuel I was never a worrying mom.  I didn't expect the worst; I rarely called the pediatrician; I only took the boys in to the doctor if I was absolutely sure they needed to see one.  In fact, Bryan would get frustrated with me for not taking them in and on several occasions was downright perplexed by my reluctance to elicit the help of a doctor.  Generally speaking, I think my kids are going to be ok.  I don't anticipate the worst-case scenario, and I trust that the horrible tragedies are pretty darn unlikely, so I don't worry about them.  I was a little nervous I would parent Anna differently, but I've been thankful that really haven't.  I continue to think my kids are going to be ok, and I don't need to fear.  But sometimes when I cuddle Anna, I get this sinking feeling in my soul.  What if I lose her?  What if she gets sick or grows up to resent me or becomes estranged from us?  What if.  I have to work hard to remind myself that she isn't mine.  She's God's.  And He's entrusted her to my care for a limited time.  And once more I have to pry my fingers open and relinquish my baby to God's infinitely better love and care.  I have to trust Him.

I think the other factor is the incompleteness of our family.  Regularly a stranger will remark, "you finally got your girl!" when they see me with Anna and her two biggest brothers.  Every time someone I don't know expresses joy that I have a daughter, I feel terribly sad.  A few weeks ago a woman on the beach in Kiawah saw me playing with Caleb and Joel.  She noticed I had a baby strapped to me in the baby carrier, and she said, "That better be a girl you have in there!"  It kind of broke my heart.  Of course none of these people knows about Samuel.  And of course they would never say I was unlucky to have three sons.  But I can't help but feel like they are negating the joy I felt in my third son.  Was I sad Samuel wasn't a girl?  Not for one minute.  I loved Samuel as deeply and richly as I love my first and second sons.  And would I love Anna any less or rejoice in her one iota less if she was a boy?  Of course not!  I didn't need a girl to be happy, to make me whole.  I was perfectly happy when I had three boys.  And I feel Samuel's absence keenly when a stranger assumes I was relieved my perceived third child was a girl. 

Though most of the time I am overflowing with joy and gratitude and a deep awareness of my blessings, sometimes the grief of Samuel surfaces, and I have to be diligent to allow it to come.  When I don't, I still find that grief threatens to sabotage my joy instead of allowing it to complement and enrich it instead.  For my joy is deeper and truer because I loved and lost Samuel as my faith is deeper and truer too.  Even though two years have passed since we said goodbye to our baby boy and we've since welcomed our precious Anna into our family, grief still demands our attention some times.  It needs to be acknowledged.  Heeded.  Heard.  And then I can let it settle back down to a quiet stream until the undercurrent grows once more, and I need to let it overflow its banks yet again.

Joel Talking to Anna

This is from our trip to Kiawah Island last week.  Joel really loves his baby sister, and you can see a glimpse of it here.

Captured by Cam

A few weeks ago, we met up with the wonderful Cami Mitelman to do family pictures.  We hadn't seen her since she took pictures of our first family time with Samuel just five days before he died.  (Some of our favorites are in the left-hand column of this blog.)  Our dear friends Tracy Elliott and Jennifer Conley arranged for Cami to come to the hospital through Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, and though I was really hesitant about it at the time (did I want someone else there during our first -- and probably only! -- time as a family?  did I want to remember Samuel that way -- swollen and sick and not at all looking like the baby he was at birth?  did I want to spend any part of my swiftly diminishing days with Samuel thinking about pictures?  did I have the emotional energy to do it?  did it mean I was giving up hope that Samuel would live?), I was glad we did it as soon as we were at Samuel's side as a family.  And now I am SO glad we did it.  We have a record of our time as the five of us, and it is priceless to me.  I know Caleb and Joel cherish those pictures because they can see themselves with their baby brother -- loving him and touching him, and they can see our smiles and joy in being a family.  Samuel's life wasn't all tears and heartache.  We have proof that it was also joyful and rich and real.  Right next to Caleb's bed, he has a picture of him whispering "I love you" into Samuel's ear.  I can always tell when Caleb's been thinking about Samuel because he moves the picture closer to his pillow when he's especially missing his baby brother.  Those pictures are life-giving and healing for us.  They bless us in tremendous ways.

After Samuel died, Cami offered to take our family pictures again someday, and right then I knew I wanted to do it when we had another baby.  So once we found out about Anna, I asked Cami if she'd still be willing to photograph us.  It was great to see her again.  She's among the few non-hospital staff who ever saw Samuel, and she was witness to a very sacred day of our lives.  I loved seeing her, talking to her (something I didn't do much of that day at Egleston because I was so preoccupied), and just having her be with our family again.  It was a sweet time.  And now we have some great pictures of our new family -- and one of all of us with a picture of sweet Samuel.  What another wonderful blessing from Cami!  Here are some of my favorites:

Expecting Anna

Last week was the one year anniversary of when we found out we were expecting our sweet Anna Pea.  I never blogged about that day, so I thought I would post some excerpts from my journal.

"October 16, 2010

Yesterday morning I found out I'm pregnant!  I, of course, have no idea what will happen.  In no way do I assume this will result in a healthy baby in 9 months.  But I am so, so happy that I even can get pregnant.  Lately I've begun to assume that pregnancy is not in our future, and I feel like I accepted that.  I quit expecting God to grant us a pregnancy, and I was ok with that.  It made me sad, but I didn't feel the need to take it in my hands and force it.  I didn't feel myself resisting God on it.  I felt surrendered.

I didn't sleep well the night before, knowing I was going to take the test in the morning.  After fighting it for an hour and a half, I finally got up early while Bry was still in bed, closed the bathroom door, and took the test.  While waiting for the digital test to spit out its answer, I was pretty sure I had started my period and said out loud, "There it is.  Well, that was a waste of a test."  Just then I looked down at the test on the bathroom floor.  It said, 'Pregnant.'  I was so stunned.  I stood up in a fog and walked to the sink.  When I got there, I started sobbing and sobbing.  I was shaking and gasping for breath and bawling my eyes out.  I was totally, totally shocked.  And I was a mixture of overwhelmed, immensely relieved, grateful, terrified, absolutely amazed I could get pregnant, humbled, and sad.  I wanted to fall on my knees and weep before God for thankfulness, in humility, and with my sorrow over Samuel. 

After crying like that for a good 5-10 minutes, I opened the bathroom door still bawling, and Bryan woke up.  He said, 'Oh, Babe.  I'm so sorry.'  He, of course, assumed I'd learned I wasn't pregnant.  I started to crawl into bed and sputtered out, 'I'm pregnant!'  He sat straight up and said, 'You are?!?  Really?!?'  And then he held me while I cried and cried.  He's excited though cautious, like me.  He's already calling me 'Bella Preggo' like with all my other pregnancies.  We laid in bed for a long time, and once I stopped sobbing, I prayed for us, for this growing baby, and for God to do what He wants to do.

There is a lot to fear, but predominantly I feel truly joyful and peaceful.  I know we'll survive whatever is ahead.  A miscarriage would not be the end of the world, and how I'd love this pregnancy to result in a huge tummy with lots of kicks and squirms and a baby to hold and love in the end!  Oh, Jesus, may it be so!!!  I am so, so grateful to the Lord for allowing me this pregnancy -- even if it's for a short time.  I am thankful for the picture of hope, love, and kindness of God it gives me.  Thank you, Lord, for this pregnancy -- no matter what!  Please keep my heart in perfect peace and my thoughts fixed on You in the time ahead.  And THANK YOU!!!"

I rejoice in our Anna Patricia Apinis, our gift from God.  She is such a part of our lives now, that I can't believe we've only known about her for a little over a year.  How richly the Lord has blessed us by giving her to us.  She is my treasure, my joy, my littlest love, and the delight of my heart. 

I remember so clearly how hard it was to surrender my dream of more biological children.  I struggled and struggled with it -- in some ways it took more faith from me than Samuel's death did.  I saw God's hand so clearly in Samuel's life and death, but our struggle to conceive again just felt laborious and frustrating and empty and endless.  The month we got pregnant with Anna was the first month I felt I had truly laid down my wishes and accepted God's.  I'm sure it was no coincidence that that's when He granted us our desire -- when His desire was more important to me than my own.

And now look what we have!  Our perfect Beauty.  Our little Anna Pea.

Picture courtesy of Cami Mitelman -- post about that soon to follow

Rejoicing and Mourning

"Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn." Romans 12:15

I was astounded and deeply touched by the way people responded to Samuel's life and death -- by the way they hurt with us, sincerely grieved the life of a baby the vast majority of them never even met, and cared for us in our sorrow and pain.  People served us in kind, creative, life-giving ways.  They provided us with meals for months after Samuel's death, took our boys to play at their house or to go to vacation Bible school celebrations, gave us date nights out to be together and grieve -- or even try to laugh, watched Caleb and Joel so we could go to grief counseling, wrote us moving and encouraging letters, told us stories of how their lives were changed by our baby son, had our house cleaned for us for several months, bought our groceries and delivered them for just as long, went to their knees at all hours of the day and night while Samuel was alive -- and after his death prayed for our family in our sorrow, arranged to have Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep photograph the boys meeting Samuel so we would have pictures of our only real time as a family of five, made a prayer blanket to lay over our sweet boy while he was in the CICU, made us a goodie bag of our favorite things for our vigils over Samuel, gave us worship CD's to listen to during our long days at the hospital, provided us with gas cards and Chick-Fil-A cards and a lot of cash, went with Bryan to pick out the grave plot, took care of funeral arrangements, put together a beautiful service for our baby boy, fed our extended family after Samuel's memorial service, made donations in Samuel's memory to Children's Health Care of Atlanta or to organizations close to our hearts, gave us unbelievably thoughtful gifts -- a gorgeous painting of the ocean called "You Sustain Me," necklaces with Samuel's name or initials on them, a collage of Samuel pictures, a hand-knitted shawl with symbolism for Samuel, a paving stone with "Samuel Erik Apinis, August 2009, Caleb and Joel's Brother" in a garden for babies who have gone to Heaven, a tree to plant in our yard.  Three different, amazing beach places were offered to us for a week free of charge (all of which we went to!).  The list goes on and on and on.  I was flabbergasted by the kindness of our friends -- and in some cases strangers.  It gave new and rich meaning to the verse in Romans, "mourn with those who mourn."  I felt so cared for, so uplifted, so supported, so loved.  I knew we were not alone.  I knew what the body of Christ was supposed to be because I was experiencing it firsthand. 

When we found out we were expecting Anna and shared our wonderful news, I was again touched by people's response.  They were genuinely thrilled for us.  Two sets of friends put on amazing showers for me.  Bryan regularly came home from work bearing gifts for our coming girl.  A couple from our small group painted a dresser for her nursery.  Once Anna was born, we were flooded with kindness and well-wishes.  Within 24 hours of Anna's birth, 17 people came to visit us at the hospital.  We were inundated with baby girl clothes, blankets, and stuffed animals.  Four different neighbors came knocking on our door bearing adorable outfits and gifts for our Anna Pea.  People fed us three meals a week for 7 weeks.  Anna's great grandma crocheted her a blanket, my high school friend Brigid knit her a sweater, and a new small group leader Bryan met with sewed her two beautiful dresses and made her a matching diaper bag with a picture of Anna and her birth stats attached.  A friend ordered a handmade owl for Anna's room.  We've been downright flooded with gifts and love and joy.  It has been amazing to have so many people rejoice in our Anna and share in our happiness, people who "rejoice with those who rejoice."

As we've experienced both halves of Romans 12:15, it's been a double blessing.  To have a community to fall back on in our sorrow was comforting, safe, and freeing.  It enabled us to have bad days and know we weren't alone; there were people to fall back on, people praying for us, people to help fill in our gaps.  And now to have so many sharing in our joy, loving Anna with us, wanting to know about her -- it's beautiful and rich and increases our joy.  We are so grateful to the many people who have made the last two plus years so much better than they would have otherwise been, who have mourned with us and now rejoice with us.  We can't thank you enough!