Why bad things happen to good people

I don't know why said "bad things happen to good people." There is so much tragedy and sorrow all around us. Is it fair? Is it fair that some people suffer more than others? That some people go through life without any faith breaking experiences while some are tried and tried and tried? Is it fair that a mother lose her child and then another? How can that be fair? What is supposed to be learned from a repeated experience that wasn't learned the first time?

I have several friends experiencing really hard times. Two of them have husbands just diagnosed with terminal cancer, another's husband recently committed suicide, another has been battling breast cancer for years with small children, and a dear friend who lost her son to a tragic accident just miscarried at 20 weeks. How do we suffer through our trials and come out on top? How do we make it through the bad times?

I don't have the answers to all these questions. I don't even know where to begin. Since Daxton passed away there seems to be children all around me suffering or being taken back to their Father in Heaven. It is like driving a new car around for the first time, all the Toyota minivans out there now stand out in the same color that you are driving. It seems Father in Heaven is getting ready for something big in Heaven, because I know of at least 25 little angels that have been taken away this summer alone, and those are just the ones I know about.

I don't know how each of these mothers and fathers or spouses or sisters or brothers get up in the morning only to face a new day of heartache to suffer through their trial, but I can speak for myself. There isn't a moment, hour, or day that goes by I don't thank Father in Heaven for the two blessed girls I have on this earth or the angel son I will some day raise in a perfect world. There isn't a day that goes by I don't pray to face another day without Daxton, that I pray for peace to fill my soul that I might not go crazy with all the "what ifs" or new memories we are creating without Daxton. So I guess the one thing that helps me most... is prayer.

Also, all the support from friends and family and fellow bloggers (all of you) who check in on me to see how we are doing, who give up your time, talents, and caramel apples, just to bring a smile to my face. My girls, who get me up each morning to brush teeth, make lunches, get dressed and ready for school. Or who snuggle me when I just need a warm body to hold. My husband who helps me get through the morning when I don't want to get out of bed. He takes care of the girls until I feel like I can face the daily hullabaloo, he holds me when I cry, he shares the grief with me whether silently or openly.

I rely on my Savior. There isn't anyone in this world who knows exactly how I feel. Each mother who has lost a child grieves differently. The only person who knows how I feel is my Savior. He grieves with me. He loves me. He takes care of my baby while I cannot see him. He didn't only suffer for my sins, but for my sorrows as well, and boy did He shed a drop of blood or two for the heartache I have felt. For that I will be eternally grateful.

Empty

Sometimes I just don't feel like posting, but I know that I should. I want to someday publish this blog and save it for future generations.... or just my own kids as a record.

Today Mikenna brought home a picture she had drawn at school of "baby sister" and Daxton. She has drawn circles around them. She was quite proud of them.

I went to Home Depot the other day and I walked down the Christmas isle (I am a sucker for Christmas decorations) and I completely lost it. I don't want Christmas to come. I don't want the holidays to come. I wish they would just go away all together. It will just be a reminder of what I had last year and don't have this year.

Well friends, that is all I got for today. Maybe there will be something more profound in there tomorrow, but for now good night.

Halloween Costumes

So I don't know how many or you are magic seamstresses or the very creative type.... but I AM SO NOT!!! Every once in awhile I get the notion to "be crafty." Well since I have the unfortunate blessing of having SO much time on my hands, I have picked up a few things.

This year I thought it would be SUPER fun to make Halloween costumes. I had been eyeing some scrubs at the store and thought that that would be fun to make the girls nurses for Halloween. So I roped my friend Trisha into it and we took the kids to buy the fabric.

NOTE: PICK IT OUT FOR THEM... YOU WON'T LIKE WHAT THEY PICK

Savannah picked 'Thomas the Tank Engine' (VERY HIDEOUS), but she loves it. If you ask her what she will is going to be for Halloween, she says, "Thomas the choo choo train." She gets funny looks until I tell them that is what is on her scrubs. A nod of understanding follows.

Mikenna picked out a cute flower pattern... well I talked her into it :). Janey picked out Strawberry Shortcake and said, "Well at least it isn't hideous..... like what my friend? and she says, "Thomas." And Parker of course chose "Cars."

So we began our endeavor of cutting patterns and pinning and sewing. At 4am on Saturday morning, the costumes were complete. Thanks to Kisha and my Grandma (THEY ARE THE SHIZ!!!!!) We couldn't have done it without them. And no folks I don't have a picture. Seriously? I know. Soon, very soon.

The girls all looked adorable and they LOVE LOVE LOVE their scrubs. Which is handy now that they have a pair because I have a BUNCH. And it helps Mikenna wants to be a nurse when she gets big :).

Prayers answered and Unanswered

Sometimes prayers aren't always answered in the manner we want them... obviously. It is all in the Lord's time, which is hard for us because we don't really know what that is. When Savannah was born and she was so small and wasn't eating, we prayed every day that she would grow and eat and be healthy. There was a ward fast for her as well where we prayed that she would learn to eat. It wasn't until 3 years later that that prayer was answered. (now be careful what you wish for here, because now I can't get her to stop eating). However, point is that our prayer was answered, maybe not like we thought it should or in the time frame we would have hoped, but it was answered nonetheless.

My prayers are pretty simple as of late. I pray that I will be able to get out of bed, that I will be able to take care of my kids, that I will be able to complete the tasks that I am expected daily. I pray that I will have a good attitude, that I will find peace, that Daxton will be safe, that he will know how much I love him. I continually pray that my girls will be safe. Which leads me to something..... I pray all the time that my kids will be safe... what exactly does that mean? I prayed that Daxton and the girls would be safe when I went to Havasupai. I prayed that all would be well. I prayed like mad each night I was gone that I would return and all would be well. However, in my heart, I knew that it wasn't to be. I didn't really know what would happen. I didn't know the depth or heartache or tragedy that was upon us or to be given to us, but I knew that this time this prayer wouldn't be answered in the way I wanted. (that being said, I knew I had to go. I struggle daily with this) Does that mean that God didn't keep my children safe? Depends on how you look at it. Where is he "better off" so to speak? Where is he truly safer? Honestly? With me, but in reality, with Father in Heaven. So did he keep my kids safe? My reasoning says yes (of course my heart says another).

Some people shy away from prayer when they are having problems, they think that God isn't listening or they are mad at him or something. Honestly? I haven't really felt like that, at all. The first thing I did was pray, it was the only thing I knew how to do right at that moment. I didn't think of anything else that would help. I couldn't of course pray that Daxton would magically come back alive, but I prayed for peace. I prayed that I wouldn't become bitter. I prayed for understanding. I prayed that the "what ifs" and "why mes" would go away. I prayed that all those this had effected would be comforted. I prayed that I would be comforted. I still pray for these things, depending on the day and the triggers.

One particular day I was thinking to myself, 'surely I am not the only person in this whole world who has lost a child.' I actually prayed that I would find those people, that I would be able to relate to them and talk to them and find some comraderie (not really the word i am looking for but it is almost 1am) Not a week later did I find Stephanie, a mom who lost her baby 6 days after Daxton passed away. We emailed, talked on the phone, and then finally met. This may sound terrible, but I slept better that night knowing I was not the only mother that was grieving at that time. Since then I have met countless moms who have lost children. My prayer was answered.

I still long for the peace that will settle in. The understanding that I hope will come. There really isn't anybody who truly "knows" how I feel but Father in Heaven, there really isn't anybody I can pour my heart out to who will really understand the hurt, anger, and grief I feel except for Him. He is the one I cry to the one I draw strength from. Without prayer, I would lose my biggest supporter and then where would I be? who knows.

Today

Today is one of those days. Today I miss him. Today I want him here with me.

Welcome Lilly and Layla

I am proud to announce the welcome additions, Lilly and Layla. Layla is with grandma and Lilly is with her Daddy!!! They are adorable. 4#5oz and 4#13oz.... ish. So that was one BIG baby Adri was carrying around. Mom and dad are excited and all is well with the twins. They are on a machine called CPAP, to help keep their airways open. They are on room air, so that is always a plus!!! Don't know what CPAP is? Just imagine putting your head out the window of your car going 50mph and open your mouth. You will have CPAP just like the twins. YEAH!

CONGRATS ADRI AND DOUG!!!

Four months out.... ish

So I am about 4 months or so out from losing my precious Daxton. Here are pieces of a post I wrote a few days ago on the "angel blog."

I walk through my house looking at the pictures of my family "before." I know it is still my family a family I will have eternally, but not the same that is still here on earth. The ones that brought me comfort and peace now only bring me heartache of what is not here with me. It is the cold hard picture frame that I caress, not the warm, chubby hands and feet. It is the cold green blanket that I hold, not the warmth of my baby's body. It is the kisses that I dream about, not the wet, slobbery ones I used to get from those luscious lips.

Today is another good day on a slew of good days. Here is how I am this far out.

I still have bad days, but they aren't as intense as they used to be. There isn't so much physical pain as there used to be, the emotional pain isn't as intense. I still think about Daxton every second of every day, but the thoughts of "forgetting him" or needing to take care of him have gone. For example, when I hear a baby cry, I don't usually think it is him, although sometimes I feel the urge to check on him, but it is not as frequent as it used to be.

Some of the "depression" has lifted. If I get a balance of physical, mental, and emotional activity, I can typically make it through the day or week without too much trouble. It is mostly about balance here. I need balance. I feel the need to stay busy, to keep my mind active, to have "projects" which I otherwise would never have time for and be perfectly ok with it. (for instance the 7 blankets I have crocheted or the scrubs I am making for Halloween, but that is for another post).

What can you do for someone who is 4 months out (or me :))?

I still like to talk about Daxton. I hope that I always will. I talk openly about it with the girls and answer all their questions. When we go to the cemetery we ask "What do you remember about Daxton" and we go through each family member. Sometimes the answers are the same and sometimes they are different. You don't necessarily need to ask about him, if I feel comfortable or it comes up, I will mention it. Hopefully that doesn't make one feel uncomfortable when I talk about him.

I like hugs. No pity looks please. Seen enough for a lifetime :), looks of love are always nice and kind and genuine thoughts are much appreciated.

Understand that I do think about Daxton all the time. The gaping hole is starting to heal, but it will never be fully healed. Just because there is a smile on the outside, there is not always a smile on the inside.

I am excited to have another baby. I think it will be "fun." I hope that all works out and it will be bittersweet. I am starting to accept that it is a girl and am almost ok with it. Mikenna made a comment the other day about if it was a boy and it was Daxton who came back.... and I realized that maybe Heavenly Father knows what He is doing by sending me a girl. The other boy will have to wait :).

Wanted to share

I wanted to share some words of strength. I have had better days and weeks and months. Today and most every day are daily reminders of what I have lost, of what I will not see again in this life. I miss Daxton, of course I miss him. I also realize I have other children, other responsibilities. I continue to daily relearn how to live life without my little baby. I am still learning. I think it will be a lifelong process. I hope that one day it is easier. That instead of sorrow in my eyes when I see pictures or talk of Daxton, it will be replaced with joy. Joy in the memories, joy that I will see him again, joy that I still have my life left to live here on this earth.

From the early days, the intense physical and real emotional pain has been replaced with a softer sorrow. A softer grieving. When there is grief and tears (which there are), the tears are not as bitter, they are not as gut wrenching (well not as frequently), and it doesn't typically last for days like it used to. There isn't ALWAYS a dark cloud over my head. There are times of peace and comfort and even a desire to serve others as I have been served. This has been a long time coming. I am glad that pieces of my old self are meeting pieces of my "new" self and coming together in a nice little compromise. :).

Due to possible inaccuracies in my notes of Elder Hollands Stake Conf. talk and being that my notes are my interpretation of what he taught, I've decided to pull them from the web...Doug

Come what may and Love it

Elder Wirthlin, one of our apostles of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, spoke in a semi annual conference this last month and his words were, "Come what may and love it." His mother had spoken these words to him after a tumultuous game of football at the University of Utah that didn't have the expected outcome they would have hoped.

This was the title of his talk, "Come what may and love it." I have pondered this thought many times and for long periods of time. While Daxton's passing is part of the "Come what may," I don't think I love it. I love him, but I don't love that he is gone. Maybe someday his passing will be bittersweet, but I don't know that I will ever "love it."

However, there are a lot of other things that I can put that phrase to. Like the spilled milk on my brand new clean and spotless floors. Like the spilled chocolate all over the counter because Savannah wanted to see what was in the bowl that everyone was licking from. Like all the toys falling from the shelf because the girls were playing dumping dodo heads. Like the broken cups, plates, or even the hand molds. Like the money stolen from my account (which has since been put back in thankfully), or the twisted ankle. All of these things are daily and "Come what may, I can love them."

We are all given trials and while some are not the ones we would have chosen, our attitudes are what define us. Our attitudes will define how we deal with the trial, grief, and sorrow. Our perspectives will depend on our attitudes and even vice versa. What will we learn from our trials? How will we learn to "love it?" or better yet, embrace them, accept them?

One of "those" days

Today we went to the cemetery and took the girls. We each went around and said what we missed about Daxton and liked to do with him when he was alive.

Savannah said she liked to change his diaper, get his clothes, change his clothes, get his pajama bottoms, making him a bottle, and then finishes with "that's all, what you say daddy?"

Doug then says that he liked to take him outside to the garden and play with the wind chimes. Mikenna pipes up and says, "me too, mommy, I liked to do those things with him too." She also said she liked to watch a movie with him and help him and change his diaper and go on walks with him in his pink stroller.

Savannah then turns to me and says, "what you say mommy?" I couldn't really say anything, not that I don't have things I miss, but the only one right then as I was holding Mikenna was that I just missed holding him and snuggling him and smelling him.

Now I would say I miss him at my feet. I miss being tied down at home because he was taking a nap. I miss having smelly diapers fill the house. I miss that I had to follow him around all day. I miss his cries, I miss his whines. I miss his toys all over the floor or him getting stuck in the refrigerator. I miss him dumping out the plastic silverware in the pantry. I miss all the annoying parts. I miss all the happy parts. I miss worrying about him. I miss his chubby feet and hands, his slobbery kisses, and just the way he felt in my arms. Today I just miss him.

If Daxton were still alive....

As I was getting ready today, a thought occurred to me, rare I know :). I was pondering the $500 someone stole out of my account (who know how), or the bad hair day I had, or the hand mold that broke, or the fact that I am having a girl and not a boy, and thought if only Daxton were alive I would be happy about all of these things and they wouldn't seem like that big of a deal, but they would because I wouldn't have the death of a child to put it all into perspective. These things in the long run, don't really matter...

Then I remembered that even when I had Daxton all of these things were a big deal. I didn't have anything to compare them to as far as "what could be worse." It was interesting to have this thought. I yelled at my kids, thought a clean house was number one on my list, ran errands like a crazy woman, and day to day things became monotonous before Daxton died.

Now that I am 3 months out I can see the changes in my life since Daxton's passing. I yell at my kids less, my house isn't always clean (but I have more time to do it) but it isn't number one, I don't run as many errands, and the day to day things are more precious to me. I have more compassion for those who are suffering from any trial or circumstance in their life. While I didn't consider myself less than compassionate, I now have a new understanding of grief, trials, growing, and increasing faith from life changing events or just the "average" trial in a person't life.

I admit that these things might have taken a lifetime for me to learn rather than in the passed 4 months. While this was not a welcome trial, I have sure learned so much from it. I still think that "if Daxton was alive, I would be so much more happy." Yes I might be, but I wouldn't know the sorrow of missing him and the pure love I have for him that he is gone. The unending sorrow would be taken away, but I would still find things to make me unhappy I am sure. I don't know if any of this makes sense. I have a hard time expressing myself sometimes.

Loves to all. I will be out of town until Sat afternoon, but will post when I get back. :)

Little Children

I wonder how little children perceive death. One day they see someone and the next they don't. They go to the cemetery, see all the pretty flowers, and mom and dad or loved ones talk about the one who is missing. We get teary eyed as we try to remember and teach the kids we will once again see that person again.

As much as we talk to Mikenna and Savannah, I wonder how much they actually miss their baby brother that was only here a short time, how much they really understand, and how much they actually grieve.

Here is a little insight into Mikenna's grieving.... When she prays, she blesses Daxton that he will know how much we love him and miss him. Tonight after her prayer she said to Daddy, "I really want Daxton to come back."

To which Doug replied, "Me too, Why do you want him to come back?"

She says, "Because I love him."

Sometimes I think that she walks around the house, just waiting to see her baby brother. She totes her "baby asher" wherever we go, in the carseat next to her, on the couch next to her, tonight, she put Daxton's bear on her bed and said, "Daddy I am going to put this bear on my bed and pretend Daxton is there with me tonight. He isn't really though Daddy, just for pretends."

Oh my sweet baby, I bet he is there next to you tonight.

These words

Today I need these words. I often post what I need to hear myself. What I need to learn or relearn. I was reading in Fran Hafen's, Joy Cometh in the Morning, and came across some thoughts that I REALLY needed to hear last night. After a slew of "good" days, I had a really bad one. These are the words and thoughts I wanted to share.

The only way I get through the day is the Doctrine AND prayer of course. The Doctrine that I will raise him if I am worthy.

That “all person’s born on this earth will be resurrected… [and his] spirit and body shall be reunited again in its perfect form; both limb and joint shall be restored to its proper frame.” (Alma 11:42-45)

President Joseph F. Smith taught: “The body will come forth as it is laid to rest, for there is no growth or development in the grave. As it is laid down, so will it arise, and changes to perfection will come by the law of restitution. But the spirit will continue to expand and develop, and the body, after resurrection, will develop to the full stature of man.”

This and prayer are what get me out of bed in the morning. Without this knowledge that I would see and raise my son, (just not now) I would surely break in two.

The promise from Joseph Smith: “The mother who laid down her little child, being deprived of the privilege, the joy, and the satisfaction of bringing it up to manhood or womanhood in this world, would, after the resurrection, have all the joy, satisfaction, and pleasure, and even more than it would have been possible to have had in mortality, in seeing her child grown to the full measure of stature of its spirit… When she does it there, it will be with the certain knowledge that the results will be without failure; whereas here, the results are unknown until after we have passed the test.”

Of course I will only be given this chance if I live worth and righteously. I read something the other day again by Joseph Smith, “if parents are righteous [they can raise their children]… Little children who die, whose parents are not worthy of an exaltation, will be adopted into families of those who are worthy.”

While some of this is abstract at times for me, in order for me to maintain a certain measure of assurance and sanity, I cling to the promises made to me. It also inspires me to continue to muddle my way through life doing the best that I can in order to live with my son again.

For those of you who read this who have lost a child, I couldn't read doctrine for a long time, it just hurt to much to read much more than a no brainer, escape novel. I recently picked this up and have just plowed through it.

A Discovered Quote

"The cavity which suffering carves into our souls
will one day also be the receptacle of joy."
Neil A. Maxwell

I think I have heard this or read this quote at least a dozen times, but today I really read it.

My favorite time of the night or morning rather is from 730 to 9am. I love to lay in bed and do nothing. I don't know why that is, maybe it is because I don't want the day to start, maybe I don't want to face the truth. So often I have peaceful dreams of holding my little one, that I don't want the moment to end, I don't want to open my eyes. Because it is silent. So silent. It seems cruel to get out of bed and start the day without my Daxton.

I have picked up a few little "hobbies" if you will, some I never dreamed I would start, continue, or whatever. It is because of the extra time I have on my hands. Most people would beg for the "freedom" I have. I would beg for it to be the other way around. As it is, I have Savannah in school all day and Mikenna in a half day. I can tote her easily and for the most part she is fun to be around. Refreshing almost. She is easy, doesn't require much attention per se and so this leaves us side by side completing our own projects.

There would not have been enough time in the world for me to do what I do now if Daxton were still alive. All the attention I gave him (lovingly and UNregrettfully) required much of my time. To this day I have no regrets of that nor did I when he was with me. However such as it is, I am left without him to tend. I have learned to sew (kind of, I am definitely a work in progress), crochet, and I have picked back up my scrapbooking (of Daxton of course :)). I also have a VERY clean house, which only takes me 2 hours (and I am FREE).

Still there remains the "cavity which suffering [has] carved into [my] soul." I have looked back on the first moments when I received the "call." I actually wrote down about 2 pages of feelings of that day. I can barely read them without a translator or a box of kleenex. I have also kept a journal from that day until now. Looking back I can see the grief and sorrow from the depths of my soul. I can see how lost and alone I felt at times. I also know that it is in those moments that I was not alone. I have since had many good days and the bad days are less frequent. The cavity in my soul is not lessened or filled with "joy".... yet. But it is not any deeper either, and for that I am grateful.

One day I will wake up and Daxton will be a twinkle in my eye and there will remain there only the joyful moments of his life with bittersweet moments of his death and the time I will be able to raise him. I await the day when the "cavity in my soul" will be a "receptacle of joy."