{Illuminate} Week 1

The following is a homework assignment from a project class I enrolled in: Illuminate - Lighting the Path to Photographic Healing. This is week 1: writing a letter to my baby, and posting self-portraits to share my story.

Dear Harlynn,

It's coming up on three months since we had to say goodbye to you. Three months since the doctor said, "I'm so sorry..."  Three months since our lives entered the realm of the unthinkable. 

There have been days where I feel peace about where you are, what you're doing, and I can honestly say I rejoice for you. But there are dark days, Harlynn. Days where I don't understand how I'm expected to find a way out. Days where I'm completely overcome by how much I miss you. My arms ache to hold you. My chest aches to have you near. My heart pounds at its walls, begging to be relieved of having to sustain me. 

Most people don't understand. Most people don't want to. I certainly wish I didn't have to. This is a pain that hurts like no other. And it never. goes. away.

I question God. I question why He didn't change this. I question why he allowed your heart to stop. I question why the prayer I prayed - to be spared this pain - went unanswered. I get mad. I get confused.  I don't understand why the rest of this world still has to endure suffering. I question how He could deem I would ever be strong enough to endure this. A quiet voice, His voice, tells me I don't have to be strong enough. He has and will continue to carry me through. But I still get mad. I still remind Him He could have kept you alive. I still cry for the moments that will never be. 

The other day I was driving behind a Napa Auto Parts pickup. Its brake lights were on continuously. I thought it was funny, a store specializing in ensuring the proper operation of vehicles, was driving one that was defective.  I think I sometimes feel like that. I'm somehow expected to keep going, keep rolling forward, but all I want to do is stop. Put on the brakes. The rest of the world may think I have stopped...but for their sake, for their expectations, I've somehow found a way to function. Found a way to move. Found a way to get up every day despite my total brokenness. 

Yesterday I started crying - out of nowhere, the tears welled up and I cried at the dinner table. Your daddy asked, "What triggered this?"  The fact that our daughter died. The fact that she's in the cemetery instead of our home. The fact that I don't know what else to do, what else I can do, besides cry.

I don't want you to see me sad. I do pray you occasionally get a window from Heaven to peek in on us, though. And for those moments, I want you to see us as a loving family. A family who shares together. Who laughs together. Who can be happy we knew you at all, and hold on to your life in every possible memorializing fashion. I want you to see us as the family you'll be excited to one day meet, and never be separated from. 

I'm going to try to do some good in this world. I'm going to try to be a mommy you and your sister will be proud of. I'm going to try to help other hearts that hurt like mine. I'm going to try to keep your life flame flickering in a special way. I'm going to try to be your mommy in every way I still can.

There will never be another Harlynn. There will never be another you. I'm so honored I got to be the one to carry you while you were here. I love you, sweet baby girl. I miss you. I hurt for not having you here with us.

Love for eternity,

Your Mommy

Next: {Illuminate} Week 2

Prev: Faith's Lodge

Faith's Lodge

I kind of started to tell you about it. Really, though, there aren't words that can appropriately explain the depth of our experience there. The purpose is heartbreaking, yet the the bottom line is this place is a blessing. It is a respite. It is a stepping stone on the path to healing. Plainly stated, Faith's Lodge is amazing.

Faith was the first daughter of the founders of Faith's Lodge - and she was stillborn. I implore you to read more about this wonderful couple and their story, but the cliff notes version is as a result of this tragedy, Faith's Lodge was built. Tucked away in a remote wooded paradise in Wisconsin, the lodge gives bereaved parents and families a chance to connect, a chance to face their grief, and a chance to share their child's legacy.

The last night of our being there, we had a wonderful steak dinner (one of the dads himself became our grill master) and all ~ eight couples total ~ sat around the table sharing in a most special time. Those couples, and the babies they lost, left lasting imprints on my heart. I will forever remember their precious children, and I'm sure Harlynn has met them already. We cried together, we shared in each other's pain....and we laughed together. I laughed so hard during one game of Scattergories, I nearly cried. I didn't have to hide how I was feeling. I wasn't worried that if these people saw me laugh, they would assume I was "over" losing Harlynn. I could cry and laugh all in the same breath, and they got it. They understood. I could be this forever changed person I am, and they were completely natural about it. They know this road. They recognize this journey.

Aside from sharing time with other bereaved parents, there are crafts at the lodge, designed to help you start a memorial garden. We did a birdhouse, a garden stone, and a wooden plaque. We also participated in a heart-stone activity. Stones shaped like hearts were decorated by each couple, and placed at the Bridge of Hope. We found a niche in a tree stump to place Harlynn's stone. There were so many heart stones near and around the bridge. There are so many parents who have been blessed to spend time at that lodge. There are so many children who left far too soon, but are still so very loved.

I saw June bugs for the first time - and they were gross. I'm sure most of you know how well I do with creatures having more than four legs...  I saw more ticks than I ever knew existed in the universe, which was also gross. But aside from the bugs (which I don't like no matter where I am), this place was wonderful. Wild. Peaceful.

I hesitate to use the word "healing" because I don't want to be misunderstood or lead anyone to think that because Brent and I went there and had such wonderful experiences, that we're suddenly better or "fixed". Healing is a process. A long one. We started our process because of this lodge.

I can't say enough about the other parents we spent our time with. They are such wonderful people. They are so enjoyable to be with. They are all madly in love with the children they lost. They would do anything to have their children here still. We all would. I cried when I had to say goodbye to them. They are dear, dear people. 

I want to share some pictures of our time there, so will do that below. If you ever have reason to go to Faith's Lodge (though I pray you don't), I would strongly encourage you to take advantage of it. Mr. and Mrs. Lacek (Faith's parents) had a very specific plan and cause in building that lodge, and it holds true to their intention. It is a very special place with a very special purpose. Harlynn, give Faith a hug and tell her how very thankful we are to her parents. We were able to feel closer to you than we've felt this whole time thanks to their vision. I love you, sweet baby.

The View

Reading & Relaxing

Brent's Mad Painting Skills

Birdhouse

Top of Heart Stone

Side of Heart Stone

Front of Heart Stone

I thought it was bird doo!

Wood Burner Master

Heart Stone Resting Place

We Love You, Harlynn

Big Manitou Falls, WI

Some Of Our New Friends & Our Impromptu Field Trip

Harlynn's Parents ~ Loving Her Always

Next: Illuminate: Week 1
Prev: Homesick

Homesick

I wish you could see this place. I wish you could see it, but I hope you never have to. We're at a lodge built specifically as a retreat location for bereaved parents. Members of the club no one knows exists, until they're unexpectedly thrust into its midst. Children aren't supposed to pass away before their parents. Babies aren't supposed to fill plots in a cemetery. Yet, the painful reality is those things happen. There are so many hearts that beat differently as a result of being broken by this pain. It's a shame a place like this has to exist, but what a blessing that it does.

We're in the middle of the woods, literally surrounded by trees. The only sounds are from the birds during the day, and the frogs and bugs at night. Nighttime is almost deafening here - it's the coolest and strangest thing I've ever heard after sunset.  The unrelenting chorus of croaks, chirps, and whistles is a beautiful mess. It's enchanting and overwhelming at the same time. I guess this is a hopping place for frogs. (I had to...I'm sorry...)  It strikes me as funny that I'm able to sit at a keyboard in the middle of this wilderness and write about my time here. I guess "roughing it" has evolved over time.

I'm on the balcony outside our room, reclined in the Adirondack chair, barefoot, and wearing my favorite Wyoming sweatshirt. It actually was Brent's, but I covertly took ownership. There's a light cloud cover over the sky keeping the perfect outdoor temperature, the slightest breeze keeping the bugs at bay, and a tranquility that blankets this place, making it more cozy than any favorite sweatshirt. There are birds singing and chirping in the trees, grebes and ducks swimming on the lake, and somewhere nearby there's a black bear waiting until we go to sleep to attempt to raid the outdoor trash can. This place is beautiful. This place is perfect. This place has let me feel closer to my little Harlynn than anywhere else.

This morning I walked downstairs to get myself coffee and breakfast, and her picture was the first thing I saw. I can't tell you what it did for my soul to have her greet me "good morning", and to know that others would see her picture as they came down to begin their day. I enjoyed breakfast alone, being the only one up early this morning, sipping coffee and slurping cereal on the main patio. I wished I would have brought my Bible downstairs with me so I could have read it during that time. It was so peaceful and serene, I might have actually been able to focus on a passage or two.

Our only audience here, aside from the wildlife, are other parents who have lived through the unthinkable. We're not being ignored because no one knows what to say or do. We're not being avoided because other people feel awkward about addressing our situation. We're not expected to be "okay". Society tells us to dust ourselves off and keep walking. My heart knows that's not always possible. Here, we're allowed to be broken. We're allowed to be fragile. We're allowed to laugh and joke and cry all in the same breath. We're allowed to be as reclusive or outgoing as we need to be, moment to moment. Most importantly, we're allowed to talk freely about Harlynn. We're allowed to share our daughter and gloat about the beautiful baby she was, is, and always will be. We're allowed to be Harlynn's parents.

Last June when I had bronchitis and a double ear infection, I started watching a Netflix documentary (wow, surprise...) about our national parks. There was quite a bit of time spent on John Muir and how influential he was in preserving some of our most notable parks and forests. He found healing in the mountains. He found peace of mind in the woods.  I've always liked John Muir, since visiting Muir Woods as a kid. If it weren't for insects, I would eat, sleep, and live outdoors. Pieces of my heart will always be in Wyoming and in certain thinking spots I used to go to get away from it all. I "get" Mr. Muir even more now. There is definitely cause and reason to keep as much of what God gave us in nature. There is healing in these trees. There is comfort in these hills. I know I sound like a promo for Avatar, but it's true: there is something to be said for relishing being a small creature in a big, beautiful world.

I've been sitting outside all day so far. I've spent some time reading, I've spent some time visiting, and I've spent some time in quiet meditation. There are a lot of hymns that have run through my head the last 24 hours, and the birds have provided lovely harmonies. One hymn in particular that's been on repeat in my mind is "How Beautiful Heaven Must Be." I know that if I'm in awe of this place and God's handiwork here, Harlynn will have so much more to show me one day when we're together in His presence. Thinking of those treasures, thinking of the beauty that awaits, and thinking of our precious Harlynn...well...it makes me homesick.

Next: Faith's Lodge
Prev: 6th Dear Harlynn