The empty tomb

I spent Easter with my husband and kids, my mom and dad, my uncle, my cousin, and his new girlfriend.  :) We then returned to the gravesite for the first time since the burial; it's covered with some nice grass seed now.  Put up a couple of little angel statues, but I'm man I'm far from keeping up with these new neighbors.  Huge palm crosses, tons of plants and pinwheels, rows of lollipops, Easter eggs on sticks, oh yeah and solar-powered lights and toys.  My friends, the crazy "competition" about "who is the best mom" continues beyond death. :) Though in this case, I think the mothers of section 29 at St. Ann's, at the newest section of "Babyland," definitely have a soft spot for each other. I threw some extra petals on nearby graves. I'm tempted to leave my number on a business cards at nearby spots, or my Facebook contact info, just something to connect with those who mourn beside me.

It's been the most deeply meaningful Easter I've ever had, by a long shot. I've never had a grave I thought of daily before. I never understood in such a personal way how amazing the Resurrection story was before: that a tomb that was occupied is empty, and the person was alive.  I can now get the piercing joy of that thought.

(That's the tomb of the Lord in Israel, above.)  I have been carried by all your prayers, so that the great sadness is still mingled with great hope and joy. I am so grateful.

I am both eager to turn the calendar page tomorrow, and terribly sad to do so.  Perpetua was alive and with me this month; she will not be in April.  But I am being gently drawn away from the past, even now. I need to love her and move on, into the next beautiful full month of spring, while knowing part of me will always stay in March, 2013.

It is Easter, and I took time today by the grave to think of the strange moments of beauty in this terrible journey. The moments where death and sorrow touched eternal joy:

• Seeing the beautiful ultrasound one last time, my baby so perfectly formed even in that terrible stillness.
• My wonderful nurse Catherine J, who told me everything my panicked mind needed to hear: that I was doing nothing to hurt my baby.  Assured me that I had done my job, which was to carry Perpetua her entire short life.  That now I just needed to put her to rest.
• Dan taking my hand after the surgery, while I was still dressed in a faded, blood-stained hospital gown, and asking me to marry him again when he gave me back my diamond. He then gravely and grandly recited that he was "hereby endowing me with all his considerable earthly goods, cattle, lands, etc." and I managed my first real smile since I found out.
• Hearing on the phone--while alone at my dining room table--from the funeral director, that I had a little girl.  Chuckling because, well, I have girls!
• Having to quickly come up with a name for girl number five, both of us rushing so it could be put on her coffin plaque.  Finding one quickly that felt exactly right.
• Having my daughters come up with an awesomely cute nickname for her: "Pepper."
• Finally, finally, finally being able to see her, shower her with love, and say goodbye.  Being able to walk away peacefully, knowing it was time to do so.
• Having gorgeous, warm, sunny weather at last for the funeral and burial. Seeing my first two butterflies of the season flying right past my face. Finding tiny white flowers already in bloom at her open grave. Hearing so many birds after the sparrow sermon given for her.
• Having my girls here around me.  And also having them away from me, :) being cared for by wonderful friends so I could be alone with my thoughts of those in heaven.
• Deeply experiencing God's love through the extremely kind attentions of all of you.  Stumbling home in tears from some morbid chore to see a meal and flowers on my porch, beautiful cards in the mailbox, offers for babysitting on my phone.

I hope you've all had beautiful Easters with your families. I truly have, with both my earthly and heavenly ones.

I know tomorrow, the moment I need it, I will find the courage I don't have right now: to turn from this tumultuous but so precious March to an emptier but more peaceful April. One day at a time...

"O death, where is your victory?  O death, where is your sting? 

Thanks be to God, who has given us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."

1 Corinthians 15:55,57

Two white roses

Two fantastic (well, relatively) things happened for me today.  Number one: I had no awful task I had to do!  No terrible doctor appointment!  No surgery!  No plot shopping!  No calls from the funeral home!  Or from pathology!  Or wakes!  Or funerals!  Or burials!  Really, it felt good.

Number two: I started the day with chocolate cake for breakfast.  Which I simply should have done before.  I am not responsible.  It was there.  Pre-cut.  Moist.  I did what I had to do.  It was easier than the tedious process of pouring a bowl of cereal, open and closing a bottle of milk... I mean really!  No, that's not responsible, not irresponsible.  I believe there is a "Carrie" responsible for the cake's presence, from this wild meal train that circles me these days... just recovering from a Dawn dinner of enchilada heaven at the moment, actually.  You all have been too good.  I feel spoiled.  And guilty.  And fatter.  :)

Anyway, after my requisite cocoa infusion, I prepared to take four kids to my Bible Study (it has child care.  Which is AWESOME!:)  One where I could be anonymous (and thus, much safer from a public weeping display) because "no one knew."  Well, one person knew, because I had excitedly told her, last Thursday, that I was pregnant.  And last Bible Study, I was.  I had gone straight from there to a routine Obgyn appointment. 

It felt like maybe, in some parallel universe, I was getting a "do-over."  Everything was so the same as last week.  Except I sat in the back in case something particularly stirring was said.

At least I have discovered the point of my pain.  It's where the "before" touches the "after."  Unfortunately, that is everywhere.  In the salsa jar I must have opened when she was alive.  In notes I wrote to myself about getting more preggo shirts.  In the foolish Christmas cards that, yes, I was trying to send out for Easter... :)  In any place at all I had been that was more than seven days ago.  Ouch!  Ouch.  Ouch... 

But quite enough about me.  (For the moment anyway.)  I am truly longing to focus my attention elsewhere for now.  Like the fact that today, we commemorate when Jesus had the Last Supper with His apostles, washed their feet showing us how to be servants of each other, instituted a couple of major sacraments, agonized in the Garden, was betrayed by Judas, arrested by the Jews, interrogated and imprisoned for the night; in other words, a theologically and liturgically exhausting night that would take more than a lifetime to fully understand and appreciate.  I love trying to, usually.  And I love, love, love the services tonight: the Christian Passover, the Mass of the Lord's Supper, the ceremonial washing of feet, the works. 

However I do not love attending night services with young children.  Therefore, my husband and I take turns attending for these three great nights of the year.  So tonight, he was there, and I was at soccer practice with my older girls at the YMCA (figured they needed an activity break), while my three year old chased three little boys with a hard plastic brontosaurus held by the tail and a shockingly hearty RAAAAHHH!  (I distinctly heard two child care workers say in unison, "Oh. My. (expletive)."

So despite the wealth of meaning this day holds, tonight I'm going to just focus on one thing: Particularly these days, I can really appreciate that the Lord voluntarily suffered for me.  I wouldn't choose suffering, personally. I'm not crazy about it actually.  Or unusually "strong."  No, really, I'm not.  I'm just putting one foot in front of the other and holding on to my faith for dear life like any of you would do in a lousy situation. 

Yet God Himself chose to come down to this vale of tears, live a human life, and die a really lousy death because He loves me and wants me with Him forever.  Me and my whole family, living and deceased.  And all of you.  It helps put the events of the past few days in perspective.  That night, He knew what I would suffer this week, and He suffered with me. 

Now for a couple quick pics of a happy moment from my past with a peaceful moment in my present.  Here is a picture of a solitary white rose in the Garden of Olives, taken when I went to Israel.  Okay, it's grainy and ghostly but still.  It was way more beautiful than the picture implies, so use your imagination. A mild, clear evening among ancient trees, the scent of eucalyptus, Gethsemane. 

And here's another white rose, from my bouquet after I "found out."  Some of the red roses disappeared in petals into a little grave.  But the white rose, the one that was supposed to represent the baby?  Going strong, outlasting the red ones I have left.  Cool. 

Thank you Lord.  I love you back.  Hold her close tonight, and us too.  Cuz I know You can do both at once.  We really aren't so far apart, after all.

"Surely our griefs He Himself bore, and our sorrows He carried." Isaiah 53:4

Today, I'm...

...learning about the "new me" in the "new normal."

...dry-eyed in the Target baby aisle, but breaking down in a restaurant.

...anxious to know what happened. What the hell happened. _If_ we can find out...

...still excited to find out the gender. Then sad that I'm excited. Then darn it, I'm excited anyway; I want to name my baby...

...wanting to hold my baby still. To curl up beside wherever they are keeping him/her in the lab. To scream at them to be more gentle, more careful, more sensitive. Because it's my heart.

...so grateful for my husband. More than ever before.

...stunned by the generous, super-thoughtful, overwhelming response of ridiculously amazing friends. Feeling guilty getting so much care. And very grateful.

...staring at nothing. Understanding little.

...forgetting how to sing at church.

...laughing for the first time since I found out. Because my girls are so funny! Trying to show you the video here of Felicity performing spontaneous liturgical dance in the cry room to "Were You There."  Doesn't look like the link wants to work today though, ah well...

...feeling like I have nothing left to fear.

...taking nothing for granted.

...knowing my baby's okay now. And that I will be too.

...believing that God is bigger than all of this. Knowing He loves my baby even more than I do. Loving Him for that.

My attempt at Valentines...

To all the parents who sent their kids to school today with homemade, hand-dipped cake pops individually wrapped in red and white cellophane, paired with "mom and me" crafted cards painstakingly stamped and decorated with heart-shaped punch outs on hand-knit doilies: I respect you, I admire you, and aspire to be more like you. 

To my fellow moms who sent their kids to school with one of the following $2.98 boxed atrocities from Walmart:

Can I get a "woot woot!"? :)

I mean, who doesn't need a fairy puppy tattoo to know they are loved?

Ah well. Happy Sts. Cyril and Methodius Day anyway. May we all more deeply know God's love for us this year! :) TLC

"And above all these things put on love, which binds the rest together and makes them perfect."
                                                                                                                          Colossians 3:14