A Time to Write

 I have been writing a lot in the morning time this summer. Some days it’s for this page or my blog, but other times it has been articles that I have sold for publication. I never set out to be a writer, and actually my high school journalism teacher never gave me a good grade for anything I submitted to her. It is funny how others opinions hang over you, causing you to believe them as if they were the gospel truth.

What I did set out to do just over a year ago, was to walk this grief journey gracefully, relying on Jesus as my strength. I desired to share the feelings other parents may have but can’t adequately express. I felt compelled to normalize grief as a necessary emotion when dealing with loss that must not be hidden. I sought to be a compassionate heart and a listening ear to the hurting. What an exciting journey it is still taking me on!

Losing Millie was the end of so many my dreams as her mama... celebrations, events, milestones would no longer include my little girl. Starting this next phase of life is allowing me to dream and dream big again. David and I often talk about the plans we would like to see come to fruition. A few that are coming up soon is an article I wrote being published at “Her View From Home” and being asked to record another podcast about walking through the loss of Millie. Both of these are exciting opportunities that I am honored to get to share her story, but more importantly, HIS story.

I have also been exchanging ideas around with an illustrator for the children’s storybook about Millie’s Miracle. I am hoping that I will move forward in publishing it soon.

As for the book sharing Millie’s full story, I have taken another break. I feel like it is close to the editing phase, but then I get scared. Sharing that much of your heart and soul in one place, then asking someone to edit/correct/dissect it is hard. It’s like wondering if they will love your baby as much as you do. **If you think about it, please PRAY that I get inspired to finish the last few pages and take the leap of FAITH. **

There are other big dreams in the works...some will be just that—a dream. Others I will share as we get closer to them happening. There is so much beauty coming from the ashes of cancer and loss.

Now as the day draws to a close, the sun has set both in the sky and in my mind, this day goes down in my memory as a good day. Today was a day I took my little people to a lovely park and had their (late) birthday photos made in front of a beautiful waterfall. We were dressed up in church style clothes, but that didn’t stop us from wading in the creek and even having a splashing fight as we finished our photos. I also made sure to take a few photos of the children and me together. The photos I have of Millie and I are dear to my mama heart. Tonight I made sure I will have those with SJ and Little Man also.

I hope you took time to make a memory today with your loved ones. ~~Seize the Day~~

Blessings sweet friends…

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I still believe in Millie’s Miracle

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ Hebrews 11:1 ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

︵‿︵‿୨☆୧‿︵‿︵

#MilliesMiracle

#ChildhoodCancer

#Neuroblastoma

#Childloss

#Forever3

#WithJesus

#WhileWeAreWaiting

#Anotherdaycloser

𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙?

Today that feeling rose up in my chest. That ache that has been a little gentler lately became almost suffocating. Most days I embrace that recognition that this is now my life. That this is really the way it is—

but today...

Today I found an old phone that had videos I haven’t seen before. As I listened for a moment, my heart screamed,

“𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙?!?”

The video shows my baby full of life. ‘Healthy’ and happy, sassy and funny, so much a part of our family. That video made me believe, if only for a breath, that life was okay. That my grief is just a bad dream...a night terror. The next breath brought reality home. She is gone. She will never come back. Praise God I know I WILL go to her in Eternity. I cling to that assurance.

Grief does such funny things. It makes so many things become forgotten. It makes you lose track of time, events, and memories. You can’t recall conversations, important information, or perform necessary tasks. You live in a fog—then one day that fog lifts every so slightly. You begin to see a glimpse of who you once were. You wonder if that person will ever come back? How could the old you return? A very part of your heart is missing and even if you return, you will be different. You will...I promise! Honestly, I am not sure I even want to be the lady I was ‘before’. Instead, I now want to walk where God is calling me to go.

There was another video that came up today and I watched it, drawn to it —yet worried I shouldn’t for fear of drowning. I watched her funeral video, at least most of it. As the beginning song played I was confused. “What was that song playing?” “Who chose it?” I had to listen to almost the whole song to realize it was me. I had no memory choosing it, nor hearing it play at her funeral. So much of the service is still a blur in my mind. There are people in the video that I have no recollection of who they are. There are so many grief blurs in that day. I do clearly remember the last few moments at the cemetery where total exhaustion took over and we longed to go home even though we knew would be leaving Millie’s body behind.

Tonight as I was passing by the cemetery... my car turned in. The policeman was locking the gate as they do every night. He kindly waved me in and told me he would wait for me. My eyes filled up with tears as I thanked him. I even said, “I have the assurance that she is not here, but I need to go to her grave for a few moments anyway”. I cried as I drove to the far SW corner, almost to the fence line. I told the Lord audibly just how hard this is...how hard to understand losing your baby. I told him how very missed she is! How my heart longs for her.

He filled my mind and my heart with the simple tune “He’s got the whole world in his hands”. One verse says, “He has the little bitty babies in his hand”. My assurance that she is not alone, she’s in God’s hands. “He’s got you and me brother in his hands”. I am not alone either. I told him that without him I couldn’t continue carrying this grief. I thanked him for being with me every step of this walk. Then I bravely climbed out of my van, dusted her headstone off, straightened her butterflies, and admired the beautiful soft colors that were painted in the evening sky. My tears dried, my soul communed with the Lord. He once again met me where I stood in my despair and guided my heart back to peace.

I am immensely grateful for the little moment of forgetfulness that lets me see my perfect girl as she was. I am so thankful for each picture and video. I know my heart can’t dive in too often to the videos—her sweet voice will be my undoing, but for those days I do, they bring a smile to my heart.

Blessings sweet friends…

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I still believe in Millie’s Miracle

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ Hebrews 11:1 ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

︵‿︵‿୨☆୧‿︵‿︵

#MilliesMiracle

#ChildhoodCancer

#Neuroblastoma

#Childloss

#Forever3

#WithJesus

#WhileWeAreWaiting

#Anotherdaycloser

The Bigger Picture

 I don’t always see the bigger picture. I jump to conclusions, I believe half truths, and I make mistakes. I have to continually humble my heart to ask forgiveness of those who I have offended. I have heard my children protest, “but you don’t know what...did!” when I have rebuked them for arguing. I often answer, “I don’t care what caused the fight!” but really I do. My heart desires truth and peace. Sometimes they are hard to come by in the same space.

I know as a parent I have made lots of mistakes. Some I see, but I’m sure I am blind to many others. I often react to the here and now, rather than digging deeper into the issues. Parenting is hard, isn’t it?

I am so grateful God doesn’t parent the same way I do.

He is:

~slow to anger

~all knowing

~completely good

~compassionate

~loving

~unchanging

~all powerful

What a relief to know that he sees the whole picture. He knows who has wronged us and he is big enough to handle it without my help. He cares for me, my problems, my life. He is the one who sets a longing in our hearts for heaven, especially after one of our children are there. He can make even grief and sorrow beautiful...not easy, but a poignant representation of our brokenness needing his strength. He sees the end, even when tears have crowded our vision.

“𝙷𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎. 𝙷𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝; 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚖 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙶𝚘𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚍.” ~~𝙴𝚌𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝟹:𝟷𝟷

Thank you FATHER GOD for loving me, for saving me, for carrying me as I walk this grief journey.

Blessings sweet friends…

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I still believe in Millie’s Miracle

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ Hebrews 11:1 ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

︵‿︵‿୨☆୧‿︵‿︵

#MilliesMiracle

#ChildhoodCancer

#Neuroblastoma

#Childloss

#Forever3

#WithJesus

#WhileWeAreWaiting

#Anotherdaycloser

A Sweet Bald Head

 

I unknowingly stepped on a landmine today.  I naively entered a war without realizing what was lurking just around the corner.  What seemed to be an ordinary event, a simple everyday task, was instead a battle zone.  The ambush that followed was carried out quickly, landing a direct and completely unexpected blow.  It left me feeling unsure, casting quick glances all around, wondering how to engage and run away all at the same time. My forever trusted companion and accomplice felt the same. 

 

Our family went to buy paint at the hardware store today.  David and I took our Little Man and SJ with us.  As we entered the paint aisle, we spied a beautiful little bald head up in front of us.  Immediately David and I felt that sickening feeling that another child would know the misery and trauma that Millie did.  My mind started racing, wondering if she had cancer or another illness that causes baldness.  I took many quick glances to see if a Broviac was near her neckline, but I could not see one.  That is not uncommon as so many kids get ports under the skin instead of the external hanging Broviac. Little Man and SJ started making comments under their breath, “mom do you think she has cancer?”  “Look at that girl mom!”  As any polite parent does, I reminded them we don’t stare and could talk later about their thoughts. 

 

Even though I too wanted to be polite, my eyes were continually drawn back to that sweet bald head.  I went to war with myself, wondering if I should introduce myself or allow the family to have some privacy.  Finally, as the child walked away with another family member, I approached who I assumed was the mother and simply asked her if she knew what The Jimmy Everest Center (JEC) was.  She was polite and said she was not aware of it.  I went on to explain that it was the cancer center where my daughter received treatment.  Next I asked her if her daughter had cancer?  She said, “No gratefully she has Alopecia” (a condition where all of your hair falls out.)  I then showed her a quick picture of Millie and thanked her for letting me be nosy.

 

As soon as she answered “no” to my cancer question, the uneasiness resolved.  I felt I could breathe again.  I was filled with joy for the little girl not having to fight like my little girl had to fight. David and I both stood with such relief and gratefulness that a little girl we didn’t know did not have to walk through the fire of cancer. 

 

To some people it might seem horrible that I would accost a complete stranger in a store, intrude into her personal business, then share my pain with her.  Maybe it was!  That was the reason for the warring in my spirit of ‘should I bother her?’ or ‘should I turn away?’.  However, my heartfelt reason for approaching her is that I feel called to walk beside other hurting people. I want to be a hope bearer to anyone I can.  I wanted to share that if her daughter had cancer (knowing she would be treated at the same hospital) we have a mom’s support group, started while Millie was sick, solely to support other mamas as they walk through the fire of cancer treatments.  The mamas in that group have become my tribe of support for anything cancer related.  Now granted I am transitioning out because we are Lord Willing done with that part of our life forever, but the friends I have made will be forever friends as I continue to cheer their children on to a long healthy life.

 

The next group I have become well acquainted with is the ‘Bereaved Moms’ who have lost children to cancer. These moms understand all the hurts, the trauma, the ‘behind the mask’ emotions that come up each day. They have each laid a child down in death and they each look to the day they will see them again in heaven. The sweet fellowship that I share with other moms whose children have been treated at JEC and who have walked the path that we are walking is so very necessary to surviving my loss of Millie. If you are a mom who has laid a child down in death, I would HIGHLY suggest that search out a local group of parents who understand.  The support is so needed as you navigate this tough road. If you are a local mama, message me and I will share the info for our group.  I pray the Lord allows me to be a burden bearer, a hope sharer, and a lighter giver in all I do.  

 

“𝗕𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝘆𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿'𝘀 𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘀, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗼 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗳𝗶𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝘄 𝗼𝗳 𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁.” 𝗚𝗮𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘀 𝟲:𝟮

 

 

Blessings sweet friends…

 

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I still believe in Millie’s Miracle

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ Hebrews 11:1 ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

︵‿︵‿୨☆୧‿︵‿︵

 

#MilliesMiracle

 

#ChildhoodCancer

 

#Neuroblastoma

 

#Childloss

 

#Forever3

 

#WithJesus

 

#WhileWeAreWaiting

 

#Anotherdaycloser