Birthday and Mother's Day

I wrote this on Monday May 10, but just now getting it posted…

It’s been nearly a year since I’ve been able to update my blog. I’ve not had anything nice to say, so I wasn’t saying anything at all. I’ve told a few people that had just started seeing in color again, but there’s a rain cloud hanging out again making everything gray.

This weekend was the beginning of a very difficult season for me and Jonathon. Friday was Lydia’s first birthday and yesterday was my second Mother’s Day. Neither Mother’s Day has been in any way “happy” for me. My first Mother’s Day I had been split open 4 days before in an emergency c-section and was barely moving. Also, I was half dead from an unidentified infection. Then that precious little one that made me Mommy was lying in the Neonatal ICU and was being kept alive only by ventilator and feeding tube. Later that day, they asked if they could transfer her to Cook Children’s. I’ll never forget rolling by wheelchair into the ICU room at Baylor on Mother’s Day and seeing my little girl with her hair sticking up because her hair curled just a little (I had to add the picture of our very own Baby Einstein). Oh, the love that rose up in me for that little bundle of joy! The lyric from “Because He Lives” often comes to mind during these memories, “How sweet to hold a newborn baby and feel the pride and joy she gives.” But at this point, I hadn’t been allowed to hold her since she quit breathing in my arms four days before. But I was still able to feel the pride and joy and utter fear of being a parent all in one instance. Women’s intuition, or God's still small voice, told me that this little one was not going to be long on this earth and that He would be calling her home sooner than I would’ve dreamed. My mother’s day gift was made by the nurses at Baylor NICU it was a little flower with Lydia’s precious footprint. They had to make hers bigger than all the others because she was the largest baby on the unit! Then I was given an incredible gift, the opportunity to be a mom for a brief moment, they offered to let me change her diaper. I had never felt so honored to do something in my life. I was also able to pump milk for the first time to feed my little bundle of joy. It wasn’t much, but Jonathon ran it down to the NICU like he was carrying the serum that would heal our baby girl. Then they asked us both to come down to the NICU to sign the papers for her to be transferred to Cook. I was handed a pink lovey to keep with me to give back to Lydia later because then it would carry my scent. I slept with it that night and left with it in my arms instead of my baby the next day when I was discharged from Baylor.

This year, I awoke on Mother’s Day with the emptiness in my heart that I have carried with me everyday for the last year. It’s not the same pain I woke up with last year, the pain in my abdomen that caused me to grimace every time I went to sit up or stand, but the emptiness in my heart is the same today as it was a year ago. Physically, I feel better now than I have in two years, but I think I will always carry this ache until I enter eternity.

Jonathon and I want to be able to have brothers and sisters for Lydia, but we are waiting on God’s timing, because we know that each child is born at the perfect time to serve the Lord. We know that Lydia was able to serve God just as He had planned in her short life and for that we are truly thankful. We were challenged this weekend to think of the ways that Lydia Grace’s life changed ours. First of all, she made us Mommy and Daddy. Second of all, she taught us the reality of the fragility of life and that God holds us all in the palm of His hand. Thirdly, she taught me the value of life on earth and the line between where medical treatment has gone too far and where medical treatment is a blessing from God. Lydia, thank you for making me a Mommy. Thank you, dearest Lord Jesus, for continuing to make all things new.

I found this poem online and thought that it was appropriate for what we are going through. It seems that the woman spoke of here was an adult, not a child, but I think it still fits.

"LYDIA IS GONE THIS MANY A YEAR"
Lydia is gone this many a year,
Yet when the lilacs stir,
In the old gardens far or near,
This house is full of her.

They climb the twisted chamber stair;
Her picture haunts the room;
On the carved shelf beneath it there,
They heap the purple bloom.

A ghost so long has Lydia been,
Her cloak upon the wall,
Broidered, and gilt, and faded green,
Seems not her cloak at all.

The book, the box on mantle laid,
The shells in a pale row,
Are those of some dim little maid,
A thousand years ago.

And yet the house is full of her;
She goes and comes again;
And longings thrill, and memories stir,
Like lilacs in the rain.

Out in their yards the neighbors walk,
Among the blossoms tall;
Of Anne, of Phyllis do they talk,
Of Lydia not at all.

Lizette Woodworth Reese [1856-1935]

Standing on the Rock in the Midst of Shifting Sand

I paused today to think about my purpose in writing all of this. I feel like I’m all over the map with what to write, but my purpose is very clear. I longingly wish to give glory to God in a situation that many it hard to find Him and I long to encourage others in their moments of tragedy to turn toward God and not away. I have had people ask how I can give praise to God in a time like this. I have had people ask me how I can say that my Savior never fails me. I find it simple. Now is not the time to develop my theology of God and who He is. Now is the time to cling to what I have known always to be true. I look at Job, and maybe for the first time in my life I have understood him. Tested and tried, he continued to lean on God. He didn’t understand, but he trusted. That’s where I am. I have no understanding of my current circumstances, but I know that God is on the throne.

I talk to God differently these days. I talk to him more like a friend and my comforter. I talk to him asking him to make sure that Lydia knows things about her mom and dad. I don’t know if heaven works that way, but it gives me great comfort. I talk to him as if he were the nanny of my child. He is. He is there with Lydia, holding and comforting her. There is no pain in heaven and in that I find comfort. The greatest desire of a mother is to know that your child is being cared for in the best way. I think I’m a great mother, but I know that heaven is the only other place she would find better care than what I would be able to give her. I don’t know if she can see me and watch me, but I hope that if she can her eyes are shielded from my sin. I envisioned her the other day sitting at the throne of grace praising with all the angels. I cried. I cried harder than I had in a while. I longed to teach her to praise God, but she has better teachers than I would ever be.

All this doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt that she is not here. It does. Sometimes it hurts like it’s all new and sometimes I have peace that passes all understanding. The sorrow comes in waves. I cry to Jesus too. I tell him that I want to hold Lydia in my arms. I have even asked if I can have her back. She is there with him, but I want her here! I shook my fist at God as if I have the right to confront the almighty and told Him to give her back to me! God understand. He reaches out to comfort me in those moments, reminding me that in heaven there is no sorrow or pain. I know that Lydia is loved there much more than she could ever be love here, though that’s hard to swallow. It hurts. It hurts more than I ever knew I could hurt. I hate it. I ask, “why me?” I’m reminded of the man who built his house on sand and the other who built his house on the rock. As children we are taught to build our houses on the rock, not in the sand. I strive to build my house on the rock, though I find that sometimes the sand is there. I’m human and I can easily fall prey to the doubts of this world. I'm reminded of a Caedmon’s Call song that speaks to this story. “My faith is like shifting sand, changed by every wave. My faith is like shifting sand, so I stand on grace.” The rock of my salvation, where I will build my house, is the grace of God. It is by His grace that I am able to build a firm foundation. “Waters rose as my doubts reigned. My sand-castle faith it slipped away. Found myself standing on your grace, it’d been there all the time.” (Caedmon’s Call)

Pregnancy: The last few weeks

The last few weeks leading up to the birth of Lydia are a blur to me. I felt like a whale! I had severe pre-eclampsia and the swelling was unbearable. I didn’t recognize myself when I looked in the mirror. I was on bedrest for five weeks before she was born due to the swelling. I couldn’t sit at my desk at work and I had carpal tunnel that prevented me from working on my computer or writing. I wasn’t on strict bedrest, fortunately, though I did very little in my time at home. I watched reruns of Beverly Hills 90210 and 7th Heaven and took a lot of naps. That was about the extent of my activity. Anything more than that was exhausting and painful. Standing for longer than a couple of minutes would send pain up and down my legs because of the swelling. Lydia’s measurements on the sonogram were more than two weeks ahead of her age. She was going to be a big girl. Then on top of that I had a lot of amniotic fluid. The weight of her and all of the amniotic fluid was alone enough to make me miserable.

But in spite of all the difficulties, we greatly anticipated her arrival. I loved the connection that she and I had, though it all seemed surreal. We loved to see her on the sonogram! I don’t think that we had a sonogram where Jonathon didn’t cry. It was so sweet to see him already enamored by the little girl inside of me. The sonographer told us that she was pretty and that she had hair! I was surprised she could tell from the sonogram. It was just the regular sonogram, not the 3D or 4D where you can see a lot of detail. I have to say that I was so relieved that she was pretty. Like most mothers, I had an extreme fear of having an ugly baby. I know everyone says that you never think that your baby is ugly, but I was so scared. Another thing that the sonographer pointed out was that she had big feet. She did. Just like her Daddy!

The doctor assured me that both Lydia and I were doing well, though I was under close observation. We were having a Non-Stress Test weekly and Lydia looked great on the monitor every time we went in! Her heart rate was keeping a solid baseline and she was remaining active in spite of her limited space. I loved that the nurse would set up the monitor for her heartbeat and then Lydia would turn away making the monitor all staticy. I loved feeling her move inside me. I think it was the only thing that kept me going. I was so miserable, but feeling her move and hearing her heartbeat made all the trouble fade into the background. The doctor did express concern that she might be too big for a vaginal delivery, but that we would try before we decided for a c-section.

It is these precious memories that I will hold onto. There was no indication that anything was wrong prior to her birth and we looked forward to getting to know her. I did have a lot of fear about knowing what to do to care for her. But at this point, I have no doubt that I will be able to know the needs of my child and meet them. I held my only child as she drew her last breath. I have no doubt that I can handle anything that parenting throws my way!

What's in a Name?

What to name our child was something that Jonathon and I consulted with God about for many weeks. We knew that God was knitting a child together in my womb and that He knew that child by name. We prayed asking God to reveal that name to us. We had some criteria for the name we wanted. We wanted something not on the top 100 name list from the last year! Really, that was our only criteria. With a last name like Mills, we needed something somewhat unique. The name we chose came to us from out of nowhere and we immediately knew it would be the name of our little girl, Lydia Grace. Lydia is a scriptural name; the name of a woman who was pivotal in the missionary journey of Paul. Lydia was known to be a follower of Yahweh, but had not yet met Jesus. Lydia was the first European convert. Not only was she the first, but all of her family believed and were baptized that day, indicating that she was a leader and respected in her home. During that missionary journey, her home housed Paul and the other apostles during their time in Philippi and the church later met in her home as well. Lydia was a businesswoman; she was the seller of purple cloth, the cloth of royalty. She was well known and respected in her community. We were honored to use the name of such a wonderful Christian woman for our little girl. We greatly anticipated her arrival!

The color purple will always have special significance to Jonathon and me. This spring purple is everywhere! When we went to Colorado, I noticed all the purple wildflowers. When I go shopping, I’m drawn to purple clothes. I noticed that the crepe myrtle in my front yard has purple blooms; I had never paid attention before! Purple was the scriptural Lydia’s color and we wanted that color to be special to our Lydia Grace. We wanted to make sure that she knew of the heritage of her name! Not only the heritage in the color purple, but in faith as well. We prayed for Lydia’s salvation and our friends prayed as well. One of the girls that Jonathon went to seminary with knitted a beautiful baby blanket for Lydia and said that with each stitch she prayed for Lydia to come to Christ. We looked forward to leading her to the Lord, taking her to church, going on mission trips, and praying with her. We prayed that we would hold her in an open hand for God to use and that her life would be used to lead other’s to Christ.

Little did we know that her time here on earth would be so short. Lydia lived only 14 days, but her life touched hundreds of people. People have expressed that they have come to a deeper relationship with God through Lydia’s story. We have yet to hear that someone has come to Christ through her story, but her story is still being told. I have read of little one’s who have died being unseen evangelists in a sense, leading their siblings to Christ. I pray that Lydia Grace’s story will be like that of the scriptural Lydia and that all of her house will be saved. We know that Lydia Grace is now in Heaven with Jesus. I hope that she has met the scriptural Lydia and knows the heritage of her name. Mom and Dad love her and miss her very much!

Colorado

I wrote this on the morning of June 10, 2009 and thought it would be a good start to this blog.

This is the first morning of my life that I have woken up in Colorado. Jonathon and I traveled here yesterday in search of some solitude after the worst tragedy of our lives. However, solitude was slow to present itself. We arrived at the Denver airport without a glitch, but then we got to the rental car counter only to find that they didn't have a car in the category/price range that we had reserved. We were faced with the decision to drive a minivan through the Rocky Mountains or upgrade for ten dollars a day. What a convenient way of getting people to spend more money! We felt gypped, but we upgraded for the handling ability in the mountains. Then we got in the SUV and a warning light was on indicating that the tire pressure was low. The "mechanic" aired up all four tires and sent us on our way. We drove out of the parking lot with an unsettled feeling in my stomach. We had an hour and a half drive to Estes Park where some friends of ours agreed to let us stay in their vacation home for free.
The drive was beautiful, even though the sky was overcast. The snowcapped mountains were barely visible. We didn't get lost on our journey and for that we were very thankful. We arrived at the condo only to find that we couldn't get in! The key we had was for the door but someone had locked the screen door and we didn't have that key. We were thankful for my iPhone and Jonathon's freakish memory of phone numbers.
We went to McDonald's for lunch and browsed a local shop while we waited for directions. It wasn't long before the owner of the home called us back and he had a lifeline from Alabama. His realtor still had a key to the home from when they bought it four years earlier! We were able to get into the condo and get settled. We went and bought some groceries and returned to the condo only to discover how late it was and were not interested in cooking at all. Jonathon left me to make the beds while he ran to get a pizza from the place we had just found. He returned, pulled into the garage and the front tire popped…literally. We sat down to eat, confused by all the mishaps of the day. We were thankful that the tire popped in the garage and not on the winding roads we had just traveled.
We found the number for the twenty-four hour roadside assistance and called only to find out that we would have to pay for the service! Jonathon wasn’t able to get very far with the people on the phone so I gave it a try. I yelled at the representative on the line because he kept talking over me. I was trying to explain to him that we didn’t have a lot of money because our daughter had just died and that we needed mercy in a situation that wasn’t managed very well by the company. He told me that they didn’t deal with emotion because they were running a business. I lost it! Fortunately, there was a supervisor on the line who was apparently as frustrated with the situation as I was. She very graciously said that she would have someone drive another car to us and change the tire. We were thankful that the tire popped in the garage and not on the winding roads we had just traveled. We were thankful for the manager who arranged for us to have the new car.
We waited for a while and realized that we should probably help by changing the tire. After all, the company was going above and beyond to correct their mistake of letting a defective car off the lot. We went out to the garage, found the owner’s manual and proceeded to change the tire. While Jonathon was jacking up the car, the jack broke sending the Jeep Commander crashing back to the garage floor. We were thankful that Jonathon was not under the car.
At this point we were very hopeless. We hoped that the car the man was bringing would have a jack. It did. We were thankful for the jack and thankful that the man who came with the car was gracious. He understood that we were just trying to help. We were thankful that he was willing to drive the new car to us in the dark in mountainous terrain, that he had another jack, and that the tire got changed safely. We even got the money back for the upgrade. So where do we go from here?
Hopefully, the trials have come to an end and we can be thankful for the worse tragedies that were avoided. However, we are still faced with the grief of the greatest tragedy of our lives. The death of our first born, Lydia Grace Mills, has brought darkness that we have never known as well as joy in the midst that we didn’t think was possible. So not we enter into some of the most beautiful of God’s creation for a time with the Creator Himself to grieve…