Six months ago today we lost our little girl. She was the light in our lives, the adhesive that made our marriage stronger (and helped it to stay strong), and someone we so badly wanted to meet. She was beautiful, perfect, and wonderful. She made us so happy. When she died our lives fell. But we held strong. Our hearts broke. But our world didn't. Today driving home from work I was listening to my "peaceful tunes" playlist on the iPod, and the Chris Rice version of the hymn "It is Well with My Soul" came on (words written by Horatio G. Spafford in 1873). I teared up in traffic (dangerous, I know). It's such a beautiful song, and really is restoring to the heart and mind.
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Refrain:
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
Refrain
And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
Refrain
Honestly, it's still hard to look forward, even six months later. It's hard to have peace in the midst of such tragedy. Jim and I are looking to the future and hoping for good things. We are still hurting for our little girl. We still cry together, we still miss her, we still get hit as if by a meteor sometimes with the sheer grief we feel. We both walk by her photo in our living room and look longingly at her little face. I pull the her photo out of the book in my purse more times a day than I count so I can glance upon her sweet face. Jim has a picture of her next to his computer monitor so he can see her when he's at his desk (which is most of each day). I blow kisses to her each night when I turn out the light in the curio cabinet that holds her photo and her urn. A million times a day I kiss the angel pendant around my neck that holds a bit of Angel's ashes. I find it hard to sleep some nights just thinking about her. Sometimes I wake up from nightmares, reliving the night I was in labor and the morning she died. It's still hard. And we don't expect it to be easy anytime soon. But we look forward, we search for peace, and we have faith in our God that things will get better, if not easier, in the future.
I thank you for your prayers, happy thoughts, and sweet messages via e-mail and on Facebook. Thanks for thinking of us on this day and on so many others.
Love and hugs,
Tara
viernes, 28 de mayo de 2010
sábado, 22 de mayo de 2010
Working Hard and Working Too Hard
Hi, Readers,
I have been slacking on the whole blog thing. The reason is in the title: I've been working hard! I leave the house by 7:10 each morning (often earlier) and return about 5:50pm (sometimes later). Getting used to working has been quite an adjustment after eight months of unemployment. But I'm adjusting, and Jim's adjusting and we share the household tasks effectively and try to spend as much time as possible with one another. I really like my job, though, and though the work comes in waves (sometimes I'm bored to tears, other times the workload makes me feel like crying), I am learning a lot and realizing how much goes into building loans and how that side of a bank works. ALSO - I PASSED MY COMPREHENSIVE EXAMS! WOO HOO! That means that I should be receiving my diploma for my Master's degree (Master of Science in International Relations from Troy University) sometime this summer! Even as I type out the student loan payments each month, I think it was worth it. I worked HARD for that degree!
Speaking of working, Jim's DONE working! His last duty day was today, and as of 2 June we will once again be a civilian family (which we have only been for 2 months of our almost 7-year marriage - the first 2 months). He starts school the second week of June, and we are super excited because he was accepted into the Physics program at OU and he's really excited about it (and him being excited and happy makes me happy). He'll be working from home as a geek-for-hire, and maybe working part-time, depending on our financial needs and how they're able to be met with my salary, the GI Bill benefits and Jim's geek jobs.
In other news, I want to address the idea of working too hard. Not at a job, although that seems a relevant topic given the above two paragraphs, but in life, friendship and other relationships. Our situation in the last almost six months has let out the strange attitudes in some people. We appreciate the mourning of our daughter, and we understand that those closest to us, especially our family members who lost a member of their family as well, have grieved along with us. But besides being there for us when asked to be, and letting us talk, cry or laugh, depending on the situation, we don't want anything else unless we ask for it. We don't want others to be completely distraught, we don't want people to make strange offers or try to embrace our grief. We just want to be embraced. We don't need you to walk on eggshells around us or try to fix our family; our family, though incomplete in the worst way, is not broken. We don't want you to try to find out what we need because we don't need anything the majority of the time! Some of the best times before we left Japan and since we moved have been spent with friends or family actually laughing and being able to be ourselves again. Even when the wound was freshest it was easy to miss our daughter but be more like ourselves when we were allowed. Yes, our hearts have been torn apart and we are devastated and it still hits us both often and at the worst times that our daughter is gone, but we don't need others to try to take that upon themselves (especially if their intentions are to take our grief into their hands in a way that causes them to require attention or causes others to pity them for our loss), and we definitely don't need people to go out of their way to try to give us what THEY think is best for us. If we want or need something from those closest to us and/or the situation, we are not above asking. Please just be there for us; please just wait for us to ask; please don't offer things, even with the best of intentions, because YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT WE NEED!
In addition, we are OVER people expressing their opinions about how we should become parents again. I've talked on this blog about our intentions with adoption. I am not dense to the fact that despite extra caution, we could get pregnant again. We understand that no matter our intentions or wishes or thoughts about our future parenthood that God may have a completely different plan for our lives. We don't want your opinion, Internet! We don't want you to tell us what YOU think is best for us! We don't want you to tell us that you think we're wrong, or that Angel wants a baby sibling. She isn't here! She can't come back. We know that she would want us to be happy, but we have to grieve for our child and, honestly, we are the ones who are receptive to God's plan for our lives and are NOT looking for someone else to interpret those plans!
So, Internet, I hope that no one will take this personally, because it's, frankly, a compilation from a large hodge podge of different conversations with, I'm sure, well-meaning friends and family. But please remember that we are still grieving our daughter's death. Though we are doing well, things aren't fine now. Be sensitive and think before you speak (or write). Be there for us but PLEASE don't offer advice, opinions or things for which we haven't asked.
Hope everyone's had a good week and that you all have a wonderful weekend.
Love, Tara
I have been slacking on the whole blog thing. The reason is in the title: I've been working hard! I leave the house by 7:10 each morning (often earlier) and return about 5:50pm (sometimes later). Getting used to working has been quite an adjustment after eight months of unemployment. But I'm adjusting, and Jim's adjusting and we share the household tasks effectively and try to spend as much time as possible with one another. I really like my job, though, and though the work comes in waves (sometimes I'm bored to tears, other times the workload makes me feel like crying), I am learning a lot and realizing how much goes into building loans and how that side of a bank works. ALSO - I PASSED MY COMPREHENSIVE EXAMS! WOO HOO! That means that I should be receiving my diploma for my Master's degree (Master of Science in International Relations from Troy University) sometime this summer! Even as I type out the student loan payments each month, I think it was worth it. I worked HARD for that degree!
Speaking of working, Jim's DONE working! His last duty day was today, and as of 2 June we will once again be a civilian family (which we have only been for 2 months of our almost 7-year marriage - the first 2 months). He starts school the second week of June, and we are super excited because he was accepted into the Physics program at OU and he's really excited about it (and him being excited and happy makes me happy). He'll be working from home as a geek-for-hire, and maybe working part-time, depending on our financial needs and how they're able to be met with my salary, the GI Bill benefits and Jim's geek jobs.
In other news, I want to address the idea of working too hard. Not at a job, although that seems a relevant topic given the above two paragraphs, but in life, friendship and other relationships. Our situation in the last almost six months has let out the strange attitudes in some people. We appreciate the mourning of our daughter, and we understand that those closest to us, especially our family members who lost a member of their family as well, have grieved along with us. But besides being there for us when asked to be, and letting us talk, cry or laugh, depending on the situation, we don't want anything else unless we ask for it. We don't want others to be completely distraught, we don't want people to make strange offers or try to embrace our grief. We just want to be embraced. We don't need you to walk on eggshells around us or try to fix our family; our family, though incomplete in the worst way, is not broken. We don't want you to try to find out what we need because we don't need anything the majority of the time! Some of the best times before we left Japan and since we moved have been spent with friends or family actually laughing and being able to be ourselves again. Even when the wound was freshest it was easy to miss our daughter but be more like ourselves when we were allowed. Yes, our hearts have been torn apart and we are devastated and it still hits us both often and at the worst times that our daughter is gone, but we don't need others to try to take that upon themselves (especially if their intentions are to take our grief into their hands in a way that causes them to require attention or causes others to pity them for our loss), and we definitely don't need people to go out of their way to try to give us what THEY think is best for us. If we want or need something from those closest to us and/or the situation, we are not above asking. Please just be there for us; please just wait for us to ask; please don't offer things, even with the best of intentions, because YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT WE NEED!
In addition, we are OVER people expressing their opinions about how we should become parents again. I've talked on this blog about our intentions with adoption. I am not dense to the fact that despite extra caution, we could get pregnant again. We understand that no matter our intentions or wishes or thoughts about our future parenthood that God may have a completely different plan for our lives. We don't want your opinion, Internet! We don't want you to tell us what YOU think is best for us! We don't want you to tell us that you think we're wrong, or that Angel wants a baby sibling. She isn't here! She can't come back. We know that she would want us to be happy, but we have to grieve for our child and, honestly, we are the ones who are receptive to God's plan for our lives and are NOT looking for someone else to interpret those plans!
So, Internet, I hope that no one will take this personally, because it's, frankly, a compilation from a large hodge podge of different conversations with, I'm sure, well-meaning friends and family. But please remember that we are still grieving our daughter's death. Though we are doing well, things aren't fine now. Be sensitive and think before you speak (or write). Be there for us but PLEASE don't offer advice, opinions or things for which we haven't asked.
Hope everyone's had a good week and that you all have a wonderful weekend.
Love, Tara
sábado, 8 de mayo de 2010
Mother's Day
I am so blessed to celebrate my first Mother's Day tomorrow. Though it is a happy holiday, it is a bittersweet day for me because though I am a mother, my daughter is not here.
Though my daughter is no longer with me, I am still a mother. Though I never heard her cry, I felt her kick. Though I never nursed her, I watched my belly grow as she grew. Though I never gave her a bath, dressed her, diapered her, I felt the effects of my pregnancy as she developed. Though I didn't get to raise her, I prayed for her every day. For 39 weeks I was her safe haven. For 36 of those weeks I knew she was there. For 31 weeks I had a symptomatic pregnancy. For 24 weeks I knew that she was my daughter. For 17 weeks I felt her move. For almost 10 hours I was in labor. For almost an hour I was in surgery. For almost six months I've grieved her death. That part will never end. Though my daughter is in heaven instead of in my arms, I am a mother. Though my I haven't seen her smile, roll over, sit up or crawl, she is still my daughter. Though she is not here with me, she will always be mine. No matter how and how many time I become a mother again, she will always be my first. Though I may get to see other children grow up, she will always be the big sister.
I love my Angel more and more each day. I look at her photo in our living room or on Jim's desk, or at the photo I carry around with me each day, and I miss her terribly. Sometimes I still burst into tears from missing her. But I am more thankful for her each day, each moment, than the one before. I didn't get nearly enough time with her, but I cherish every second I did. She will always be mine. And as of November 27, 2009 at 6:27 a.m., I am a mother, always.
Though my daughter is no longer with me, I am still a mother. Though I never heard her cry, I felt her kick. Though I never nursed her, I watched my belly grow as she grew. Though I never gave her a bath, dressed her, diapered her, I felt the effects of my pregnancy as she developed. Though I didn't get to raise her, I prayed for her every day. For 39 weeks I was her safe haven. For 36 of those weeks I knew she was there. For 31 weeks I had a symptomatic pregnancy. For 24 weeks I knew that she was my daughter. For 17 weeks I felt her move. For almost 10 hours I was in labor. For almost an hour I was in surgery. For almost six months I've grieved her death. That part will never end. Though my daughter is in heaven instead of in my arms, I am a mother. Though my I haven't seen her smile, roll over, sit up or crawl, she is still my daughter. Though she is not here with me, she will always be mine. No matter how and how many time I become a mother again, she will always be my first. Though I may get to see other children grow up, she will always be the big sister.
I love my Angel more and more each day. I look at her photo in our living room or on Jim's desk, or at the photo I carry around with me each day, and I miss her terribly. Sometimes I still burst into tears from missing her. But I am more thankful for her each day, each moment, than the one before. I didn't get nearly enough time with her, but I cherish every second I did. She will always be mine. And as of November 27, 2009 at 6:27 a.m., I am a mother, always.
domingo, 2 de mayo de 2010
Dogs!
Our sweet puppy, Rubeus, has been so bored lately. We had talked about adopting a second dog as a friend for him, but hadn't acted on it until this week. Yesterday we spent 3 (THREE!) hours at a rescue looking at dogs. A couple runs 2 rescues out of their home; the male is in charge of the beagle rescue, and the female is in charge of the dalmatian rescue, but they both have several dogs that are mixed or not at all the breeds they advertise. Rubeus is a boxer mix, and we thought a beagle might be a good fit for him, might help calm him down but still keep him entertained.
So yesterday, after looking at dogs for FOREVER, we settled on the dog that Rubeus liked best (BTW, highly recommended to take your dog if you go to a shelter to look at friends for him or her; it was great to get to see how he interacted with them, which dogs he cowed to, and which ones he tried to dominate, and which ones he played with nonstop).
We named her Raisele (RAY-seh-la), after a character in a book I recently read, Away by Amy Bloom. She and Rubeus just instantly hit it off. Even though we had gone for a Beagle, we ended up with a second boxer mix. She's good with cats, doesn't let Rubeus boss her around (but doesn't boss him around, either), is so sweet. She has funny coloring (since Rubeus has tiger stripes, we thought it was fun that she has leopard spots) that makes us smile. We have a 2-week trial period with her, but so far we think she's going to work out!
So now we're a 2-dog, 1-cat family. Our zoo won't be complete until we add more kids to the mix. :)
So yesterday, after looking at dogs for FOREVER, we settled on the dog that Rubeus liked best (BTW, highly recommended to take your dog if you go to a shelter to look at friends for him or her; it was great to get to see how he interacted with them, which dogs he cowed to, and which ones he tried to dominate, and which ones he played with nonstop).
We named her Raisele (RAY-seh-la), after a character in a book I recently read, Away by Amy Bloom. She and Rubeus just instantly hit it off. Even though we had gone for a Beagle, we ended up with a second boxer mix. She's good with cats, doesn't let Rubeus boss her around (but doesn't boss him around, either), is so sweet. She has funny coloring (since Rubeus has tiger stripes, we thought it was fun that she has leopard spots) that makes us smile. We have a 2-week trial period with her, but so far we think she's going to work out!
So now we're a 2-dog, 1-cat family. Our zoo won't be complete until we add more kids to the mix. :)
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