One of the worst things about losing a child is the complete lack of control, a feeling of utter helplessness. Even though we did absolutely everything that could have possibly been done to save our Ellie girl that day, it wasn’t enough. Holding her and watching helplessly as she slipped away from us into eternity was the worst kind of pain I’ve ever experienced.
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| Cherishing Ellie's final moments with us |
In life, we want to feel like we are in control of something. Anything. There are many things that we can control. God gives us the free will to make decisions about how to live our lives, and with that sometimes comes natural consequences of sin and poor choices. But there are some things that are completely out of our control. Like holding my precious baby and watching her slip away.
Another area that has been particularly hard to swallow lately is the feeling of lacking control over my hormones. Anybody who has ever had a baby knows that hormones can make you go from stable to teary to crazy and back again at the drop of a hat. A few months before we had our oldest child, Timothy, I got off of hormonal birth control, and it was one of the best decisions I have ever made. I didn’t realize how it made me feel until I stopped taking it. I felt so much better. I began learning more about how God designed our bodies and started tracking my fertility naturally. For more on this, I highly recommend you start here. I have continued to do so ever since. Usually I am very in tune with what’s going on with myself in many ways, physically and emotionally. I understand the hormonal ebbs and flows that are a normal part of our lives as women. It’s predictable. It’s an awareness that brings a sense of control. After giving birth, the hormones are all over the place, and lots of changes are taking place within the body as you transition from carrying a baby on the inside to nourishing and caring for a baby on the outside. That’s crazy enough as it is. When you throw in the attempt to cancel that biological process because there is no longer a baby to nourish and care for, that’s when things get really crazy.
These past couple of months, I have experienced such a roller coaster literally in every possible aspect of my life. Understandably so, I have not felt myself AT ALL. Of course, a huge part of that is the catastrophic loss of my child. But an equally huge part of it is all of the physical and hormonal changes going on as well, both of which have left me feeling completely out of control of myself. That’s where the anxiety creeps in. It’s exhausting, to be perfectly honest. Why am I sharing all of this? This is a little more personal than I typically feel comfortable with sharing “in mixed company.” But it’s important to try and explain where I’m coming from when I say what I’m about to say.
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| Picture of Caroline because her sweet smile is infectious |
The day that Ellie left this earth, my heart shattered into a million pieces. Since then, it has felt like my emotions and my body have also shattered into a million pieces. Some days are just really hard in that respect. As I experience some of the crazy hormonal swings that only amplify the emotions and feelings of deep pain and loss, I can’t help but feel like I’m spiraling at times. Today is one of those days. Last night was hard. I slept terribly. This morning was even harder. I woke up hurting inside and out. After I collected myself a bit, I went to get the kids up. When I went in to get Caroline (almost 2 years old now), as soon as I opened her door, she said, “Good morning.” I know that may not seem significant. It’s a perfectly normal thing to say in the morning. But it was significant to me. I have said that to her every morning of her life. She has never once said it back to me until this morning. And this morning, she didn’t even wait for me to say it first, she just greeted me with a smile, using the same tone and inflection that I use with her every morning. I knew it was God’s way of letting me know He’s got this. Even though I could not feel any more out of control and out of sorts, HE is in control. HE wants to put me back together piece by piece.
My mind immediately went to a song that has been a favorite go-to on those days when I feel like I just can’t. I love how it’s written from a perspective of how God sees me and how that is so different than I see myself most days.
How many times can one heart break?
It was never supposed to be this way
Look in the mirror, but you find someone
You never thought you'd be
Oh, but I can still recognize
The one I love in your tear stained eyes
I know you might not see it now
So lift your eyes to me
When you see broken beyond repair
I see healing beyond belief
When you see too far gone
I see one step away from home
You see nothing but damaged goods
I see something good in the making
I'm not finished yet
When you see wounded, I see mended
You see your worst mistake
But I see the price I paid
There's nothing you could ever do
To lose what grace has won
So hold on, it's not the end
This is where love's work begins
I'm making all things new
And I will make a miracle of you
I see my child, My beloved
The new creation you're becoming
You see the scars from when you fell
But I see the stories they will tell
You see worthless, but I see priceless
You see pain, but I see a purpose
You see unworthy, undeserving
But I see you through eyes of mercy
One of the things I have done since Ellie’s passing is to make a couple of spaces in my room that I can display a few things that are meaningful to me. Some are things I’ve made, others are gifts from friends and even a few strangers in honor of Ellie’s memory. The generous mamas from my due date group on Facebook generously gifted me with a hand-made wooden shelf as a place to display some of the mementos and gifts. Since It’s a bit hard to see in the picture, here’s a description of what is on the shelf. From left to right:
* A flower arrangement I made with some of my favorite flowers like the ones we chose for Ellie's celebration of life service
* A hand made bird that was gifted to me by a friend of a friend in Ellie's memory
* My favorite picture of her sweet little face
*The box that my keepsake jewelry I wrote about here came in. I placed it on the shelf to remind me what a gift Ellie was.
* A puzzle piece to remind me of Jeremiah 29:11 and how Ellie's story is just one piece of God's plan
* A hope ornament to remind me of the hope of seeing her again one day
* The Willow Tree Angel of Courage to remind me to be courageous on days like today when I don't feel like it because that's what would make Ellie proud
* A bottle with a tag that says "You have stored my tears in your bottle and counted each of them." (Psalm 56:8) to remind me that my tears are never wasted.
* The rose and the "e" were decorations I had bought before Ellie was born to hang above her bed.
Some of these items (the puzzle piece, hope ornament and bottle) were a part of a Hope Package sent to me by the While We’re Waiting ministry. See more about what they do here. They have a Facebook group for parents who have lost their children, and it has been a wonderful support for me these past couple of months.
The “Ellie shelf” hangs on my wall opposite the bed, so I can see it as soon as I wake up and just before I go to sleep. The other space I created is next to my bedside table, on top of the chest I had planned to store Ellie’s clothes in. It is covered by a snuggly pink blanket given to Ellie by a dear friend of ours. On it is a custom work of art made by my new friend Kathy, who uses her art as a ministry and an outlet to process the grief of losing her newborn son just two years ago. I found her shop on Etsy and felt drawn to it. I messaged her and asked if she could create a custom piece for me, not having any idea of her story at the time. We began talking about our babies, and she told me that I messaged her on the 2 year anniversary of her son’s passing. She graciously made the piece as a gift of love and would not accept payment for it. You can see more of her art here. Also on display I have “Ellie Bunny,” whose story I will tell more fully at another time, but for now I’ll just say that Ellie Bunny has a recording of Ellie’s heart beat from our ultrasound inside. I also have the Willow Tree angel called “Angel of Mine” that was a gift from my mom and dad. The card on it says “So loved. So very loved.” Because she absolutely was. Finally, there is a strand of pearls and a vase of flowers. I love pretty things, and the pearls remind me of what a treasure Ellie is. The vase contains flowers that I chose because they bring me joy to look at. I plan to make a similar arrangement to put at her grave when her stone is finished. 
I share all of this to say that I specifically chose that vase because it looks like it has tiny cracks running all through it, as if it was broken and pieced back together. I think that is a beautiful reminder of the work that God continues to do in me through this journey. I may see broken beyond repair, but the most important thing is that He isn’t finished yet. Like the song says, I see pain, but He sees a purpose. When I see wounded, He sees MENDED.
‘Arise and go down to the potter’s house, and there I will let you hear my words.’ So I went down to the potter’s house, and there he was working at his wheel. And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do. Then the word of the LORD came to me: ‘O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter has done? Declares the LORD. Behold, like the clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel.’
Jeremiah 18:2-6
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