In Memory of Nicolas Daniel

Yesterday was National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Day.  I didn't find that out until well into the afternoon.  It makes me sad that the day that is meant to honour our lost children isn't really talked about. 

Much like the loss itself.

I discovered that there would be a candle lighting close to where I live, so the kids and I went.

I lit a candle and cried for my son.  And for all the little lives taken too soon.

Every cry is a song

Every song is a prayer

And our prayers must be heard

Fill the air

-Hothouse Flowers

Darkness

If you are FB friends with my husband, you have already heard the news, but for those of you who are not, it is with immense grief and sadness that I share that we have lost the baby.

My water broke a week ago, but the baby still had a strong heartbeat, so they sent me home to see what would happen.  Unfortunately, the follow-up sonogram on Monday showed the heartbeat was gone and the baby had died over the weekend.

Monday I was induced and delivered a tiny baby boy, who we named Nicolas Daniel.  The pain and heartbreak is indescribable.

Thank you to all who sent messages via FB, or email.  I have read every single one of them with tears in my eyes, knowing that we are loved.

Prayers for the Schuhmacher Family

I want you to meet Meri, probably one of the sweetest, kindest, most giving souls I have ever been blessed to meet. I count her as one of my best friends, even though I have only met her once.

You see, she lives in my computer, and we met because our children have type 1 diabetes. My child. Her children. Yes, I said, children. Three out of four of her boys have t1.

She is a mentor to me because her first was diagnosed as a baby; only 8 months old. During the next 13 years, she would be handed not only two more t1 diagnoses, but a melanoma diagnosis for her husband, Ryan, three years ago. He underwent surgery and chemo. They thought they had beat it.

Three years later, cancer has again reared it's ugly head... this time Ryan has 6 tumors in his brain, and multiple tumors in his lungs and abdomen.

My heart aches so bad for this family, and I spent a good part of yesterday crying when I heard the news (those of you who know me know that crying isn't really my thing). I love Meri as the sister I never had. She is simply an amazing woman who is married to an amazing man. I liked Ryan from the moment I met him. These two have been together for 19 years, and they truly make each other whole.

Will you please join me in praying for this sweet family? March 4th has been set aside as a day of fasting and prayer for the Schuhmacher family. You can read Meri's story here. And for updates, join the facebook page that has been set up for the family.

Please tell all you know to lift this family up. Let's let heaven hear our voices loud and clear.

Shots of joy

If you read my other blog, you know that life has been rough lately. Actually, rough is a bit of an understatement.

The other day, as I was sitting around bemoaning my situation, it dawned on me that maybe the reason joy was lacking in my life was due to the fact that I was sitting around, waiting for joy to come to me.

So I packed up the kids, headed to a local park, and went looking for joy. And you know what?

I found it.

I found joy in his beautiful baby blues


In her fearlessness

In the fact that she actually let me put jeans on her today, and declared, "you know, I don't really mind wearing jeans."

In his adorably, crazy hair

In open-mouthed looks of wonder (a fire truck was driving by with lights and sirens)

In her smile

In trying new things, and liking it!

In seeing just how big she really is

In swinging...

Swinging...



Swinging! And loving it!

Even in trying new things and hating it (not a big fan of the grass)

In seeing beauty, everywhere.

Saying goodbye

December has always been a hard month for our family. My Grandfather (my Dad's Dad) had a heart attack on Dec. 21 and died a few days after Christmas. My Grandma (my Dad's Mom) died in early December. My other Grandpa (my Mom's Dad) had a heart attack Dec. 21 and died a few days later.

And today (Dec. 21), my Grammy Ann (my Dad's step-mom) passed away after her courageous battle with breast cancer.

It's also my older brother's birthday. I'm not sure where that comes into play.

When I learned my Grandma had cancer earlier this year, I just always figured she'd beat it. Grammy Ann was a feisty lady, full of good humour and life. I can remember as a small child, how much she loved to laugh. I just learned from my uncle that up until a few months ago, she was still doing Tai Chi.

More than anything, she loved the Lord. During one of our last conversations she lamented about how young people are falling away from their faith. At an age when most people are stuck in their ways, my Grandma was all about trying to find ways to make church appeal to younger generations.

Grammy Ann and I would talk on the phone every few months or so. For 20 minutes. Almost exactly 20 minutes every time. Her choice, not mine. I could hear her start to wind the conversation down at about the 15 minute mark, and the cheeky side of my personality always wanted to see how much longer past the 20 minute mark I could keep her on the phone. The dutiful Granddaughter in me would never do such a thing.

I still cannot believe she's gone. Even after I heard the cancer had spread to her liver and that she was in the hospital with pneumonia, I thought she'd be okay. Grammy Ann was just like that; spirited and larger than life. I thought she'd be around forever.

It had been on my mind to call her. Every time I thought about it, it was too late at night and I didn't want to risk waking her up. I didn't know she was in the hospital until a few weeks ago, and never had the chance to talk to her one last time. When I talked to my uncle a few days ago, she was too weak to talk, so I sent her an email for him to read to her with a bunch of pictures of Elise.

It makes me sad that Elise never got to meet this impressive woman. I am sad that she's gone, that there will be no more 20 minute phone conversations which I try to extend with a mischievous grin on my face. Sad by the reminder that this is what happens as the years slip by; as your family tree is expanding beneath you, the upper branches are wilting away.

But it gives my heart good cheer to know she is now cancer-free and doing a little Tai Chi with Jesus in heaven.

Because you know Jesus loves Him some Tai Chi.

Good bye, Grammy Ann... you are already very missed.

Christmas dinner 10 years ago. Grammy Ann is the lovely lady in red.