Twenty Years Later: My heart and my grief aren’t a political topic. But sometimes the world turns it into that!

Twenty years later and my heart is still tender….


I rarely ever, hardly ever, almost NEVER talk about politics.

Basically, I don't.

I talk about Jesus and Disney and Alabama football and coffee and Target.
I don't blog enough. I wish I took the time to blog more. It's not like I lack words.... but regardless, I do not talk about politics.

Why?
Because I don't care. Not that I don't care about politics, but your vote, doesn't make me love you any less. Your opinion probably won't change mine. That's why I love the good ol' USA, because we were founded on the truth that everyone can have an opinion and they don't all have to be the same.
And that's ok!

But when you ask me about late-term abortion. I care.
NO. I don't love you any less. Actually, I probably love you more, if I am close enough to you that you have talked to me about your abortion.
Late-term, early on, or somewhere in between - if we have talked about it, I love you. God loves you.
And if we haven't talked about it, I want to. And I love you.
I feel you. I ache with you, for whatever reasons you ache.

But I have my own truth, too.
And that's why I share today.

I don't tell this story often. And I don't tell it with indifference.
I tell it with tears dripping onto my t-shirt, as I have found myself struggling, yet again, on February 5th. My fingers tremble as I type my emotions.

Twenty years ago.
{Wait. did you get that. It has been twenty years?}
Twenty years ago, and I can still smell the sterile entry of the hospital room that I found myself in.
I didn't go there with joy. I didn't go there with a "bring the baby home from the hospital" bag in tow.
No. I went there scared out of my mind. And aching. My bones hurt with grief.

I had just been told that my sweet Elijah was no longer living. His heart had stopped. His chord had clamped and his life in the womb came to an abrupt, unexpected stop. The little guy that I had nurtured and rocked and massaged and watched play endless soccer games in my belly was already in the presence of the Lord.

Why?
No.
Stop.
I can't.
I won't.
Oh my gosh. How? How will I?
Why?

What do I do?
You see I had never delivered a completely healthy baby (that in fact, wasn't healthy and wasn't living).
And honestly, I had never known anyone that had.
What do we do? What happens next?

The sweet nurse explained to me that we had two options:
        1. We could have his funeral. [WHATTTT?  Twenty-something-year-old-mothers don't plan funerals.]
The shocking reality? Yes. Yes, they do.

        2. The more common practice, and probably the "easiest on Mom and Dad,” she said "We will dispose of him and take care of that for you. Then you will be discharged, to go home and recover.”

Oh, wait. I am sorry. I don't know what you mean.
Wait.
"Take care of that?” What does that mean?
No. Are you kidding?
What are you going to do with my son?

That would be a “no.”
We will move forward with a funeral.
And we did.

My parents and Scott's parents handled most all of those details. I was in no shape to make decisions about little tiny caskets and flowers and such.
Bless their sweet souls for taking over and being the hands and feet of Jesus, and for serving us so well during those days, when I know they were grieving too.

So, what in the world does this have to do with abortion?

Here's where my heart is on this.
And this is the part that is even hard to share and difficult to admit.
But it is the soul-crushing truth.

The nurse came in and explained how the day would go:

        I would labor. I would have pain. I would labor. I would have pain.
        The day would drag on, and the hours would be long.
        And the clock would tick slower than usual.

        But when the time came, I would deliver sweet Elijah. And then they would take him for observation and to determine just exactly what would have caused his death (unknown at the time, later to be discovered the clamping of his chord).
Then, they would take him and prepare him for the funeral home.

Ok.
That's fine.
I don't want to see him.
I don't want to hold him.
I don't handle death well, on a good day. I know my limits. So, this is NOT a death that I will be able to see and hold.
I can't. And I won't. But thank you.
Y'all take care of him and I will be fine.

Scott said, "I do. And I will."
And that was fine with me.
We agreed that our grief and our process would be different and I knew that my heart couldn't take seeing him, not alive.

So, we agreed.
The clock ticked.
The pain increased.
The reality that I was delivering a life, that wasn't living, was setting in on me, and honestly, today, 20 years later, it's by the Grace of the merciful hand of God that I made it through that day.
My heart was broken. I can't articulate the grief. I can't articulate what I felt like my body was being asked to do.

But, we did. God did. Scott did. Elijah did.
He was born.
My doctor was so tender.
She said "Oh my. He's beautiful. Mom, you were strong. You did a good job.”

But what I need for you to visualize is this:
The doctor was at the foot of the bed, and just before she delivered, she reached above her head and she grabbed a GIANT light from overhead. It was a dome shaped light that was bright and blinding. It was sharp enough to make you look away, because the piercing light was too much to stand.

But look away, I did not.
All of a sudden, as Elijah was being welcomed into this world, I could see his reflection.
I could see my son.
I could see his legs.
His feet.
His arms.
His life. That wasn't there.

In every ounce of strength I had remaining, I thrust my arms forward and said, "Please let me hold him," and she hesitated for just a moment, and gave me an “Are you sure?" look. She knew I was sure.

And hold him, I did. The son I did not want to hold. The body I did not want to embrace. The little tiny toes I did not want to count. All of a sudden, the desire to connect with him was heavier than I can explain.

Oh my heart. Oh my soul.
If I could have opened my mouth and breathed life into his nostrils, I would have given my last breath, just to watch him take one.

I would still love to do that today. The vision of twenty years ago is like it was just this morning.

I said out loud to him over and over, "Just breathe. Just take one breath." If I could have just seen his chest pound. JUST.ONE.TIME. His delicate little self. I loved him so. He never took a breath. He didn't have to.  I loved him as if he had taken a thousand.

I still ache at the thought that my body wasn't strong enough for him. Or I didn't protect him enough. Or going skin to skin couldn't save him. Or I … Or I … Or I …

But God.

We grieved. We cried.
We ached. We hurt.
We buried.

But God.

We were loved so well. We were served. We were encouraged. We were held.

My point?

I believe when you get to the point of "late-term abortion" you are at a point where life exists. The body is full. The connection is there.
I know this full well. I saw him. I carried him. I delivered him. I held him. I buried him.

And I know that the mom is hurting, and I know that the mom has grief. And I know that the mom may not want the baby.

I get it. I feel you. I hear you.

But please give life a chance. And then on delivery date, if you still feel the same way, then let's move forward with the adoption process and give another family a chance to love that life. And if you and I are close enough that we can talk about this, call me. Let me love you through this part. Let me be there for you. Let me listen. And if we aren’t “close enough," let’s change that. And let me be there for you. I may not be able to offer a solid solution or take the pain away, but I can hold a hand and I can help you set up an appointment with a counselor or I can help connect you with adoption services. I don’t know what all of that looks like for you, but I am willing to try. And if none of that speaks to you, please know that if you have read this far, I have prayed for you multiple times already. Earnestly and honestly.

I don't judge. I don't hate. I don't attack.
I ache. I hurt. I feel. And I love. And God loves. And He has carried me for twenty years.
He has redeemed my story. He has enriched our lives. He has shown us a thousand times over how Elijah's death has been used to reach, love, minister and help others.

It's the part of my story that is so super tender. It's the part that I don't talk about in a public setting, because there will be tears streaming down my face, and mascara ruined, in about point 2 seconds! But it's also the story that He trusted me with.

It's a story of life and of death. And I choose daily not to stay in the death, but to walk in the life.

I rambled today. I know it. But I needed to. I needed to share this story today and I won't apologize for doing so. If I offended you, then I apologize for offending you. That isn't my heart and is not my intention. My heart is heavy today. And my desire for life is strong.

Because I know God is a God of creating life, and I also know He's a God of redeeming stories. Even twenty years later, it is well with my soul. (But I still cry about it.)

Not just a bunch of pink tulips

16 years ago, my sweet friend Tammy sent me an enormous bouquet of pink tulips.

It was the only bright spot, on a very dark day. 

And every year, I buy myself a bouquet of pink tulips (or as close to pink that I can find). 

It makes the day better. In some sort of way, it reminds me that God renews my strength each day. 

The lovely Kara Tippetts posted the other day, "even bad days have good moments" and today was no exception. 

Then today, my friend Tommy posted... "The cost of making someone's day is easily one of the most affordable gifts" and today this resonated with me. 

16 years ago, my friend Tammymade my day. 

Today, it still makes a huge impact on my heart. 

Elijah Cole Smith 2.5.1999

February 6th, Jesus planted my feet.

I am writing this on January 24th.
Set to post on February 5th.
I already have a weight on my chest that almost keeps me from breathing. Today.


February 5th, comes each year.
And I dread it.

(for more of Elijah's stories, click here)

In the beginning of January, I get the rush of security, knowing that I am better.

And then as each day gets closer, I have random reminders that my heart just hasn't healed.

And that's ok, I don't know that I really expect it to heal, per se.

But sometimes, I just think that surely it shouldn't hurt this much 15 years later!

What in the world?
How has it been 15 years?

And an even better question. How have I even survived it?
-------------------------------------------
And then I remember February 6th.

I was discharged from the hospital, and we drove home.
Almost in silence the entire ride.

My belly ached from the pain of the delivery.
They told me I wouldn't feel pain. And they would keep me so comfortable in the hours leading up to it.
And they did.

But, it didn't help the next day.
The pain in my belly was so intense.
And it was an awful, cruel reminder that I had just delivered a baby.

Yes, a sweet boy.
And NO. He wasn't in the back seat, in his car seat, like he should've been.

What a terrible reminder.

We pulled in the driveway, and my sweet Charming helped me from the car, and I am not so sure that he didn't carry me into the house. My body was so empty.

I can remember so clearly that I felt so hollow, and so very bare.
I am not sure why God would ever do that to a mother.

But He did. And I can still today only trust that His ways are higher.

I managed myself to the bedroom, as I was heavily medicated (some for the pain but I do believe, some for the mental well-being).

I woke up several hours later, and although it was still sunshine outside it felt like I had been in a coma for days.

I tried to get out of the bed. And I put my foot on the cold hardwood floor, and it didn't seem to have any stability.

Scott came in, as he heard me stirring, and I said to him "I just don't think I can do this. I just don't think I can do this".

And so profoundly, from his own aching voice, he said "you don't have to. God will get us thru this"

What powerful words from a Dad who had just watched his bride deliver his son, and all of the heartache that would follow.

A Dad that would soon have to explain to the 4-year-old that his little brother didn't get to come home with Mommy and Daddy!

A Dad that was just one week prior, setting up the nursery------was today, planning a little, tiny funeral.

But still today, 15 years later. He was so true.

God planted my feet that day, and He gave me the strong sense that He would see me thru the funeral and the coming days, and obviously in the years before today.

And so I am reassured that He will plant my feet over and over, when I just don't know how I can do it.

Praise the Lord for February 6th.

Little "E"

I took the day "off" today.
Something I rarely find myself doing.
And I just spent it with myself.
Really non productive. A little sad.
Of all that could've been.
A little thankful for all that is.

When chap got home, we talked about Elijah. And how he wished he would've had 2 brothers instead of one :(

Then Scott came in just about the time Chap was headed to bed. We snuggle on the couch and watched a little bachelor.

And then Mason came home from work. And we chatted up his day.

Nothing could've been better.

Nothing major. Very simple.
But an overall not-so-bad-and-sad-day.

Happy 14 sweet Elijah.

He would've been a teenager today!

Today, he would've been 13.

I could've been having a great big birthday party!

But, it's not.

For whatever reason, that's not God's story for me.

And, again, and again, I am reminded of that.

I just read my post from 2010------and sadly enough, my feelings haven't changed one bit.

This is the day...that the Lord has made!

(February 7,1999)

Last night, I found this picture...Mason drew...the night before Elijah's funeral.

Here's the BEST part....we had not told him yet. He knew Mommy was sick. But...he had no idea what had happened. He came home from church that night...(quite honestly, I don't even remember how he got to church and back..so much of that is a blur)....and he brought me this picture. So proud. I asked him what it meant. He said he couldn't wait to teach Elijah about God............little did he know, Elijah was already in the arms of Jesus.

Oh, when I think back to the moment we told him....it rips me to the pit of my stomach again.


Every year, I have great plans for my self...and my mental state....and if I go back and read thru my posts from previous years...on February 5th...it seems like a skipped record.

I am not having a "woe is me" party...and I am not just drowning in my sorrows...but really just more of a "why me?" or a "why not let him stay?" kind of party. A little party I tend to have all by myself. Those kinds of parties are not really fun. Anyways.

But, as I was re-watching the Angie Smith video that I posted yesterday....that song motivated me....what an honor to carry him. What an honor that God trusted me so much with this grief. He knew that I couldn't really "handle" it....but he knew that I would. Thank you, Lord.

And, you know, that video is so true. There were so many little dreams I had for us. So many things I wanted to do. I had dreams while he was in my belly of all that we would be as a family. How much he and Mason would play. So many things.

But, I never dreamed that life 12 years later would still be so full of emotions. And, life would be so full...full of life. Full of love. Just full.

So, I spent most of yesterday and last night, scanning in old pictures, and strolling down memory lane. And, I am so so so glad I did.

It made me realize that I am so blessed.

Although I don't have sweet Elijah here (and when I even think of it, quite honestly--I ache).....I have so much more than I deserve. I have life so full. So...I spent some time...not mourning....but smiling.....I scanned all of these in...and put them to music....as a gentle reminder....even though it is not what *I* had planned....God has blessed me in ways I could not have even dreamed.

12 years....He turned my sorrow into dancing!

12 years ago today...I had no idea...that tomorrow, February 5th of every.single.year, would be the day....that I grieve...yet I celebrate...all at the same time.

Elijah Cole Smith.

I watched this video of Angie and Todd Smith, and she put so perfectly into words those feelings. Thankful to the Lord for our grief. Although it's not easy, it's part of His beautiful plan.

But, Lord, may I never forget that feeling of brokenness and dependence on You.

If you feel so compelled, watch this video, of just the awesomeness of God in what could've been so tragic, yet they allowed Him to use it for His glory.

**And, Happy Birthday, sweet Elijah :)

Can't we just skip February 5th?

So, for several weeks now, I have been PLANNING for this day. Preparing fun things to do, and knowing in advance, with confidence that I was going to take it head on, and conquer the grief of this day.

So, even Monday, I sat down (because I knew I had some great stuff planned) and I pre-posted this blog post....see below..... I mean, I was prepared, and excited.

Well, now it is Thursday night, February 4th, and it is crazy, I know, but I relive every second. Every second that I waited for a kick. Every move of mine, that I hoped would bring on a move of his. Dang that day. Dang it.

It's not because I hate my life as it is today, or because I can't get passed it. No, that's not it at all. It is honestly just because I know the love that I have in me for Mas and Chap, and I know, man, I know that I could have loved him just as much. And, I wanted to. I still want to.

Ugh. I was gonna kick it this year. I was gonna be strong, and embrace it.

But, not the case. Just not the case at all.

I do have a fun coffee/girl time planned for EARLY in the morning, and I hope that will help start the day off right. I am really praying in advance for a bright start and a wonderful day.

So, it's February 4th as I type, and even 11 years later, it is all so fresh.

So, yip hip, freakin' hooray for February 5th. Can't we just delete it. Kind of like leap year?!

----------------------
Previous post (when I was feeling very optimistic!)


I am not a fan of February 5th. At all.

February 5th. Elijah Cole Smith's birthday.

11 years ago, today, well, actually the night before, I realized, I knew, that something was wrong with him, and he was not his spunky, little kick-y self! I rocked that night, all night long, waiting for the sun to come up, and that night, in that rocking chair, I prayed that no matter what God's plan was, that I would learn to accept it. (I am not really sure I meant it).

But, now, 11 years later. I can almost see it.It's like sometimes when I get upset about it, or even angry with God, it's like He shows me a glimpse of His glory. What about Chapman? We would NOT have him if Elijah was here. Not mathematically possible!

What about our perfect complete family that we have now! It would be different. Probably still great, but I am ok with not knowing. Ya know.

So, usually, I spend today, February 5th, all by myself, usually scrapbooking, and just being me...and if I don't want to be with anyone, I don't. But, if I go have coffee with Susie, well, then I do.

But, not today! Today is the day that I am saying, I am going to surround myself with fun, and embrace today, as a celebration of Elijah! A celebration of the wonderful, many wonderful things that God has done with us BECAUSE of his death. A celebration that when Kendall walked through those pearly gates, she had a nephew waiting on her! Wow, what a reunion!!!

Glory to God for today, February 5th, 2010!

I can't wait to hang with my girls, and have a fun day!!!

Happy Birthday, little guy!

(but selfishly, I kind-of do wish I could throw him a party!)

10 years ago today.......

Pardon me while I take the day by myself. Goodness. It is still hard.

Eday!

Has it really been 9 years?? I look at this little photo of his hands and feet, and I can hardly take it. 9 years. I wish he was here. I wish I could hold him, I wish I could see him run and play. I wish he was here today.
But, I will be content, and I guess thankful for the experience that it has been. I know that it is all God's plan, but that really does not make it that much better. Especially for today.
This is my quiet, be alone day. Do my own thing day. Elijah's day. Our day. I just want to go sit in that same rocking chair that I was in 9 years ago.

I think I will do that now.

Packing up memories

Memories live here. We have had 10 years of wonderful here. We have also had quite a few heartaches here, too. As I am packing, I am also uncovering some of those. In my craftroom ---previously the nursery, and it was going to be Elijah's nursery. That day never came. I have had this sweet onesie hanging in this closet, as a gentle reminder of God's plan.......and the fact that we just can't understand.

It's nothing special, it's not a fabulous outfit or anything like that, but it is the one little thing that I have held on to, and it is my reminder of him, and the trials that God has brought us through, and the times that I needed HIM the most.

Wow, doesn't He always bring us full circle.....

Again, we are clinging to Him, and needing Him...in more reasons than we know.

So, for now, I will continue packing up the good times, and even the bad.............and I can't wait to see the memories that God has in store for us in the next 10 years....or maybe 20 or 30!

There is nothing sweeter than this! He made this and typed it himself, and his teacher said he could write anything that he wanted to say to us! It came in a pink envelope (a man after my heart!) and it had candy hearts glued to the outside with "mommy and daddy" handwritten on it! UGH! Just the sight of it nearly made me melt.

Then, I open, to read this! WHAT? Is he the sweetest little 1st grader you ever did meet??? I love my boys! That's for sure. And, just when life's stresses are really seeming like too much, well, here ya go!

A small reminder of why I do what I do! I love them........and they really do love me, too.