In closing out this year and some of my “why I still feel blessed” posts, I have to talk about the blessing of my husband. When Kerry and I started dating (14 years ago!), I don’t think anyone believe it at first. In fact, I distinctly remember having several people ask me if I was really dating Kerry Rosfeld (and I know there were those who asked him the same thing). We were, and still are in a lot of ways, opposites. Kerry was quiet and shy, I wasn’t. At. All. But here we are after over 10 years of marriage and we couldn’t be better matched. I am so thankful for God’s grace in giving me the husband He has. We may be opposite in a lot of ways, but we complement each other well.
The night we found out that Knox had died, I was so devastated. The girl doing our sonogram didn’t have children and while she was trying to be helpful said “At least you have 4 boys at home” as she told us goodbye. Kerry squeezed my hand tighter and without saying a word let me know he understood. He held me in the lobby of the hospital while I sobbed before we walked together, crying, to the car. He prayed with me in the parking garage before we went home to tell the boys.
Until that night I don’t think I’ve ever seen my husband cry. Not that he’s un-emotional, he just doesn’t cry. I’ve seen him stare in awe at our children after they’ve been born. I’ve seen him get a little shaky after each one and have to sit down…not because he gets grossed out, but because the gravity of the whole “we have another baby and how amazing is this little creation” thing hits and he sits down to take it all in. But he cried the night we lost Knox.
He cried the night he was born, he grieved the loss of his son. It moved me. It reminded me just how much he loves each one of our children before they’re ever born, before he can even feel them move. As a L&D nurse I can’t tell you how rare it is for dad’s to have that “buy in” to their babies before they’re born. But my husband loves each of our children from the day he finds out they’re coming, and I am so blessed by that.
He made difficult phone calls to tell loved ones and friends the journey that lay ahead. It wasn’t easy for him, but he did it because he loves me and he knew that I would never be able to do it. He didn’t have the words to describe how we were feeling or what was happening, but he asked for prayer and told our story.
He reached for my hand every time someone would walk into our room while I was in the hospital. We were occasionally asked by an unknowing person if we were excited about our new baby or if we knew if it was a boy or girl, Kerry would squeeze my hand and then hold me as I broke into tears when that person left. (I didn’t have the heart to tell those people why we were being induced so I didn’t…I just said we didn’t know and we were a little nervous about the induction). Kerry asked the nurse for a sign for our door to let staff know we had a loss so that I didn’t have to answer questions…he was my advocate.
When I was being induced, Kerry was my rock. He helped me labor during the induction. I wanted to avoid pain medication because I wanted to be as aware as possible of the things going on around me and when the baby came I didn’t want to be drugged. So I labored and Kerry supported me, he rubbed my back, he held my hand and he let me lean on him. He took notes about the events of the day, just like he has on every other day we welcomed a child into our family.
When Knox was born, I was nervous about how it would affect Kerry to be honest. Because I worked in labor and delivery I had seen babies born at 15 weeks before, I knew from a nursing stand point what was going to happen and what to expect. I can’t imagine going through that for the first time with the baby being your child. Kerry asked questions throughout the process, and when Knox was born…Kerry reached for him to hold him. He marveled at Knox, he counted his fingers and toes (and looked for the family trademark bent pinky that all of our boys have), just like he had for all of our other children. I was so blessed to see him cherish our son. Not that I expected anything else from the man I married, but it was such a blessing to me. The pictures we have from that night are so special, Kerry took some of them, but the ones I love the most are the ones of him holding Knox. The look of love for Knox on Kerry’s face is priceless to me. I have been blessed by a husband who loves me and loves our children.
I have been blessed by a husband who I can be totally honest with. I could be completely vulnerable with my emotions and I knew that even when he didn’t know what to say he’d listen. I am a verbal processor, so I needed to do a lot of talking and still do about the whole process. Kerry listens so well. But even more than that, he is able to talk to me too. He’s not afraid to let me know what he’s thinking or how he’s doing emotionally. I’m so thankful I don’t have to pry or worse yet…wonder.
I have been blessed by a husband to ministers to me spiritually. He prayed with me, read scripture to me and helped me find hope in a tough situation. When he was explaining to our boys what happened and about the events that took place in the hospital, Kerry continually turned back to scriptures. He used this difficult situation to show our boys the sufficiency of scripture for our everyday lives. I have heard Kerry pray with our children about healing our hearts and my body, they have thanked God for the doctor who cared for me, they have prayed for more children. I am so thankful for his godly leadership and the example he shows our children.
I have thanked God numerous times for bringing Kerry and I together. God has carried us as a couple through the loss of a child. He has used Kerry to bless me, to remind me of His love, to remind me of His grace. While we may be opposites in a lot of ways, we are a perfect fit and I am so thankful for the man God gave me to spend the rest of my life with.
Month: December 2011
Christmas Letter
Here is our Christmas Letter and picture for the year…I’ll be mailing some out this week too. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!!
Family
Why I still feel blessed — Children
Why I still feel blessed…Friends
Why I still feel blessed
When I first started writing this post, I had thought I was going to be able to put all of the reasons why I still feel blessed into one post, but I’ve quickly realized that would be a really long blogpost, so I’m just going do post it in installments. So here is episode one…
And saves those who are crushed in spirit.
And He will give you the desires of your heart. 5 Commit your way to the LORD,
Trust also in Him, and He will do it.
And He inclined to me and heard my cry. 2 He brought me up out of the pit of destruction, out of the [b]miry clay,
And He set my feet upon a rock making my footsteps firm. 3 He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God;
Many will see and fear
And will trust in the LORD.
Footprints
I came across this poem today.
How quietly he tiptoed into our world.
Softly, only a moment he stayed
but what an imprint his footprints have left upon our hearts.
~Unknown
Today was a “good” day for me. We spent the day as a family and while I thought often of our Knox, I was peaceful today. I am thankful for that.
What do we say then?
What you can say…
So I realized after my last (angry) post I should probably post about some things that have been said to us this last week that have be helpful, or at the very least not hurtful. Let me start off by saying a couple things…
First, I know that sometimes people say things without thinking or thinking they’re being helpful but things don’t come out the way they wanted them to sound. I get that. I stick my foot in my mouth more often than I’d like to admit. I also know that sometimes it depends on what generation you grew up in regarding what is appropriate to say and what’s not. For example, when women lost a baby 40 years ago, it wasn’t talked about, she wasn’t expected to grieve and things like “at least you have 4 healthy kids” were supposed to be comforting.
Second, trying to find the right words to say to a grieving person is tough, especially when it’s the loss of a child. I get that. I understand that awkwardness that comes when you see someone for the first time after they’ve lost someone. You don’t know what you say…you don’t know how to respond and everything you can come up with seems so painfully inadequate. I don’t blame someone for those kind of remarks, I really do understand. My anger towards the comments made to us were coming from the fact that the comments came from someone who usually has a knack for veiling insults in things that sound like compliments…and that same person (who probably doesn’t even read my blog) has been more than vocal enough about our family choices. I just needed to vent…
So…stuff that was helpful…
“I’m sorry”. It was hard for us to know how to respond when someone said I’m sorry. Do you say “thank you?” or “yeah me too”? But either way…having someone say they were sorry at least let us know the person was acknowledging our loss and our grief.
“I have no idea what it must be like for you, but I’m praying for you/thinking of you/I’m sorry”. When I was in nursing school one of the things we were told never to say was “I know just how you feel” unless we really knew what it was like to walk in their shoes. I have had people, who have been through a loss like this, say “I know what it’s like and I’m so sorry”. That’s okay. Really it is to say to someone (at least is was to me). Again, for us, having someone acknowledge the loss and our hurt helped a lot. It was more painful when someone (usually a family member or friend) just wanted to talk about stuff like the weather or Christmas trees or whatever without acknowledging the loss of our son. It was like trying to step around a huge elephant in the room.
“How are you?”…While I didn’t always know how to respond or if the person asking wanted to really know I appreciated being asked. I have a friend who often asks… “How are you…and I really want to know so please tell me”. Along this same line a very dear friend asked “how is Kerry?” or “How are you as a couple” I don’t know why, but I appreciated knowing that someone else was thinking about my husband and how he might be grieving as well as thinking about how we as a couple were grieving. Right after I got out of the hospital, I was worried about how I was going to minister to my husband and kids in the middle of my grief. I was thankful that others were asking Kerry how he was doing and were helping me care for him.
I had a good friend ask me as I was laboring and recovering “how is your heart doing”. She knew how I was doing physically, but she wanted to know how I was coping emotionally. I felt like when she asked me that, I could be totally honest with her and she really wanted to know. I don’t think she knows how much that question meant to me or how much it meant that she was willing to listen to all of the emotions rolling around inside me.
I can’t tell you what a blessing it has been to have friends and church family bring meals this past week. I know it’s not “technically” what to say, but it has been so helpful. We had someone in our church organize someone to bring us meals every evening this past week. To not have to worry about what I was going to feed my family when I couldn’t think straight most of the time was a huge blessing. We has people ask us “what can we do to help?” or “what can we do for you?” The blessing behind those words is that we didn’t feel like we had to reach out and ask for help, we didn’t feel like we might be inconveniencing someone.
We were also fortunate to have family stay with us for a little while. My mom was here with our boys while we were in the hospital. It helped to have her send pictures of the boys while I was laboring and keep us updated about what was happening here at home. I didn’t have to worry about how they were doing. Kerry’s parents came to stay with us for a couple days after we got home. They helped us clean our storage room, play room and garage. Those were things that I wanted to get done, but was never going to have the time or energy for. And it’s so nice this last week to not have those huge projects staring me in the face.
With grief there are no magic words to say that will take it away. There is nothing that feels like the “perfect” thing and there are few people who can sit it total silence and have a complete conversation with you. I am blessed enough to have friends who fill different needs emotionally for me as I move through this part of my life. There are friends who are praying for me even though I hardly ever see them. They’ve emailed and called to ask what they can specifically pray for. I’ve had friends who have sent songs or scripture that they felt lead to send me, and I’ve be blessed by those messages of love and compassion. I’ve had friends who have sent me a message every day to let me know they’re thinking of me and my family. There are those who I can be painfully honest with, they don’t shy away from my grumpiness, anguish, fear or even my tears. I am so thankful for everyone who has done something, no matter how small, to help our family.
I am going to post something we give our first year nursing students helping them learn what to say to a grieving person. Like the sheet says…they’re not necessarily word for word statements, but things that reflect the state of our “heart” towards the hurting person. Regardless of whether you feel like you have a right words…it is easy do know whether the person talking to you is really genuine. You can also find a link to the table below here.
The following suggestions are not word-for-word statements to make, but rather a reflection of a heart attitude you should have in reaching out to your hurting person.
|
DO SAY |
DON’T SAY |
At a funeral |
I’ll always remember… I’ll come by with dinner tonight. |
He’s so much better off in heaven. If there’s anything I can do, call. |
A baby died |
I know how much being a mother means to you. |
You can always have another one. Be thankful you have Jenny. At least you never got to know it. |
Divorce |
The future must seem frightening. I’ll stay close. I’m sure this is a lonely time for you–let’s have lunch. |
I never liked the way he treated you. There are two sides to every story. |
Legal crisis |
It’s not important what happened. I just want you to know that I care. |
Will you lose everything? Tell me how it happened. |
Handicapped child |
She has beautiful eyes. She is so loving and precious. |
What are you going to do with her? If you’d taken better care of yourself, this wouldn’t have happened. |
Elderly parent |
I know how much you love her, I’m sure you’re doing the right thing. |
How could you put your own mother in such a place? |
Loss of home |
I’ve been a part of some very beautiful memories here. |
Remember our home is really in heaven. |
Friend moving |
I’ve seen what special friends you are. I know you’ll miss each other. |
Well, you can always write. |
Pet dies |
I know she was important to your family. Sometimes this brings back other sad feelings. |
It’s only a dog! You can always buy a new kitten. |
During terminal illness |
How are you feeling about what you are facing? I’ll take you to your next doctor’s appointment. |
I know a lady who had the same thing… Won’t you be glad to be with the Lord? |
After death of terminally ill |
Even though he needed a lot of your time, I know you’ll miss his company. |
It must be such a relief now that it’s over. |
Death of a spouse |
I know how much he meant to you, and how you’ll miss him. |
You were so lucky to have him for 30 years. |
Loss of a body part |
I’m sure this will take a lot of adjustment. I’ll be with you every step of the way. |
At least you still have your mind. Be glad it wasn’t worse. |
You don't say…
I am amazed sometimes at how insensitive people can be to one another, and I’m going to vent about it for a minute. I lost my son Knox a week ago, the pain is still very raw. I’ve had some “well meaning” people make some really hurtful comments that I feel like I have to address in some fashion…So here goes…
First: I don’t care if you have 0 or 50 children…it is never okay to say “well maybe that’s God’s way of telling you (the mother) that you have enough children or that you shouldn’t have any more”. I don’t understand why so many people (many of them proclaiming to be Christian) are so angry towards families with lots of children. (I thought of this especially after I saw Mrs. Duggar lost her 20th child during her 2nd trimester this week and saw the hurtful comments being posted toward her.)
Children are a blessing (Psalm 127:3) and a reward from God. Most believers don’t disagree with that…until you have “too many” or it becomes “inconvenient” or “too expensive” to have children. I’ve said before that we trust God for our family size, we don’t ask God to limit our blessings in any other area (financially, health wise or any where else), so we don’t ask Him and don’t believe we should interfere with His blessing. I know not all Christians feel this way, and I don’t expect them to, but I don’t know why there is this huge animosity towards families who chose to trust God with this area of their lives. Seriously. If my children are loved and well cared for…what do you care if I have 4 or 40? And losing a child isn’t a “sign” that I shouldn’t have any more…it’s not a punishment or judgment. You wouldn’t tell a mother who doesn’t have any children that her repeated miscarriages are just “God’s way” of telling her she shouldn’t have children, so don’t say it to me.
I have been told this last week that losing our baby was “God’s way of telling me my body just couldn’t handle another baby” and “Maybe you should just be happy with the 4 children you have”. I found those comments incredibly hurtful and offensive. I was speechless to be honest (and most of you know how rare that is). A. I don’t believe anyone knows God’s will for my life but God. I believe that if I trust Him and follow Him he will guide my steps. B. I am delighted by the 4 wonderful boys I have, and I desire more children, because I view them as a blessing. I desire more because of how much I love and delight in the children I have. To insinuate that I’m not happy with the 4 children I have really irks me and is way off base.
Second: Do not tell me that it was better to lose a baby now than if it were at full term. While I (Praise God) have never lost a baby at full term, just because Knox was only 16 weeks doesn’t mean that I loved him any less than if I were 40 weeks pregnant. While physically it may be a little “easier” to give birth to a 16 week old baby and the physical recovery may be shorter…emotionally it sucks. I loved my baby from the moment I found out he was on his way. I started planning and dreaming about what kind of baby he would be. I was excited, I was delighted that I was pregnant and I was thrilled with the anticipation of another child. I grieve the death of my son. I can’t imagine the hurt a mother must feel who loses a child she has had the chance to know and hold. It is not easy to lose a child ever. Please don’t tell me it’s “easier” at any point, because it’s not.
Third: Please don’t say “He’s in a better place”. While I believe Knox is in Heaven, as a mother I can’t help but feel at times that the best place for him to be is in my arms. I rest in the fact that I will be able to see him again and I trust that God has a purpose for taking my son before he was born, but my arms still ache for him. I am selfish. I want my baby with me and I don’t understand why this happened, but I am leaning on the promises of my God. While Knox is in Heaven…and while it’s “technically” a better place than this sinful earth…it doesn’t make it hurt any less. It doesn’t make me long for him any less and it doesn’t make me feel better. So please don’t tell me he’s in a better place…he’s my son and I want him here with me. Period.
Fourth: Please don’t ask me “how long is it going to take to get over it” The answer is I don’t know. And please don’t expect me to “get over it” on your time table or anyone else’s. I know it’s uncomfortable for you…it’s uncomfortable for me too, but don’t act like I should get over this quickly. Grief is messy, it’s not a neat package deal, it takes a real friend willing to “get dirty” to help me get through it.
There will always be a hole where Knox should be in our family. I will always wonder what kind of child he would have been and I think I will always feel like something is missing. I can’t pretend like this didn’t happen, I can’t and won’t pretend like he didn’t exist. He is my son, he always will be. The grief may get less intense, but I don’t think you “get over” losing a baby.
Okay…I think that’s all for my venting. It just seems to have piled up and finally gotten to me today. And for those keeping track…I think this begins my “anger” stage of grieving.
** As a side note…I wrote this post yesterday evening after I’d had a particularly difficult and angry kind of day. I feel much better today (read…not quite so angry), but still felt it necessary to post.
How are you?
I’m never quite sure how to answer this question when someone asks. I don’t know if they mean physically or emotionally or mentally or spiritually. And I’m never quite sure if they really want to know…the messy details, the pain that still sits in the middle of my chest, why I can’t sleep at night, my fears, my hope or how lost I feel.
of joy and reprieve from the grief. I feel kind of “normal”. I glean some of that joy from my children…their innocence, their pure delight in little things. I can’t help but smile and delight with them sometimes. I have a 16 month old son, who thinks he’s the funniest kid when he plays with his belly button. I have a 3 year old who delights in dumping water over his own head during bath time. I have a 7 year old who used his hard-earned “Awana bucks” to buy me a ring and was so proud to give it to me. My 9 year old wakes up in the morning to hug me hello. He has no idea how important those “good morning” hugs are to me. I am thankful for the 4 wonderful children I have. They help keep me putting one foot in front of the other. They help me stay focused. They help keep me from getting lost in the grief of losing a child. Even if it’s for a few moments each day I feel “normal”. I am trusting that I will have more of the normal as I heal.
His praise shall continually be in my mouth.
And delivered me from all my fears.
How blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!
And saves those who are crushed in spirit.
What happened? Our Birth Story…
I write to process things that are rolling around in my brain and happening in my life. This last week has been the hardest week I have ever had to endure as a wife and mother. It’s something I would never wish on anyone. Ever. But I have had so many things rolling around in my head that I feel the need to process them by writing. What follows is our story leading up to the birth of our 5th son Knox. I write it more for myself, so that my child won’t be forgotten and so that I can capture what the events of the last week have meant to me. I plan to include these blog posts in his baby book. I share this story so that you can know too and that hopefully my journey and pain will help someone move through theirs too.
irl and she said the baby was a boy. The nurse handed the baby to me to hold. He was so tiny, but so perfect. We counted his fingers and toes. We touched his feet, his hands, his face. We took pictures of our baby Knox and we were in awe of how perfect he was, even though he was so tiny. Kerry and I each took turns holding him and taking it all in. As strange as it sounds, while we were grieving while we holding him…we both felt so blessed. So blessed with another son…so blessed that we had been able to experience this pregnancy even though it was cut short…and so blessed that we have had 4 healthy pregnancies and births. God is amazing. While we don’t understand the purpose for the loss, we are still in awe at His amazing creation in our son. We could see on his fingers where his finger nails were starting to grow. We could see his tiny perfect ears and his little tongue. We could feel his knees and his legs, we could see his ribs and his spine. He is perfect. He is incredible. He is our son.
rying to make it through. We are thankful for the love, prayers and help from our family, church family and friends. Sleep doesn’t come easy for me still. I’m tired, but can’t seem to sleep, even with medication. The grief and tears sneak up on me at weird times. I found myself laying down holding my belly where Knox once was…it felt so empty and I cried. I am thankful for the little ones I have…I’m thankful they still want to be held. I think if they didn’t I would feel even more empty than I do. I know that Knox will always be a part of our family, I pray that I will be able to trust my body again. I pray that the raw grief will heal. I pray that someday God will bless us with another baby, not as a replacement, but to help heal me.