Freedom

1 month
I talked to you today. It's weird not acknowledging that time has passed, so I need to. I like that Daddy reads through your story often. It helps him to remember you. I'm thankful that your things are with us so that I can just talk with you, about your life and how it's affected our lives. You are real. It's easy to "forget" as we continue to live, but then I remember your birth. I remember the joy of holding you. We are living on this earth without you, but you are forever in my heart. I'm so proud to be your momma. 

Learning
I'm learning that emotions are healthy. As I'm allowing myself to cry, and to experience hurt and anger, I see that I have been stuffing my emotions. From a young age, I learned to run from "negative" emotions and not allow myself to feel them. Specifically, I have not allowed myself to experience hurt, anger, and sadness. Even though I've known a lot of sadness in my life, it's still not emotion that's easy for me.


I'm learning that I can be in control of my emotions, but that I need to allow myself to experience them. People will always fail me and I learned to accept that early on. I learned to offer forgiveness quickly, but I didn't really learn what to do with my feelings when I had them later. Now I'm seeing that I can still forgive, even in the midst of experiencing a "negative" emotion. Anger, sadness, hurt, frustration, devastation... all of these emotions are healthy and good. God created our emotions for us to experience them. He didn't intend for us to be run by our emotions, for us to make decisions based solely on our emotions, but to experience them. I am learning to acknowledge and validate my emotions when they come, instead of pushing them aside. 

I have kept myself from experiencing sadness, hurt, and anger, and it has affected my life in ways I didn't realize until this experience. I have watched, and listened, as others have told me how God has used Jonathan's story in their own life. I have been humbled by it and in awe of His power to use a crappy situation for His good. I knew He could do the same in my life, but I didn't expect it in the way it's happening. Through this journey of grief, our marriage is being strengthened as we experience emotions together for the first time. I'm so thankful for the freedom He's bringing into our lives.

the Father
In the midst of this journey I'm reminded of His amazing goodness, His utter love for us. In our pain, I know He's scooping us up in His arms and holding us tight. He's wiped away every tear we've cried. We are resting in His arms as we move forward. We may not know all the why's, but we know that this situation has not changed anything about Him and His character.

God is good all the time. And all the time, God is good.

Support and appreciation

Since we heard Jonathan's diagnosis, way back in July, we have been covered in prayer. Our family members allowed us to talk freely about the many thoughts going through our head and held us. Our community group immediately prayed over us and our son. My coworkers followed suit. I was checked on regularly, if not constantly, via texts, phone calls, and people at work asking how I was doing.

People wanted to help right away, and it was hard telling people what we needed in the beginning. What do you need while you wait? But we were loved on by people spending time with us and allowing us space to talk.

Since Jonathan's passing, we have been so blessed by the body of Christ. 

Thank you for praying. 

Thank you for giving financially. 

Thank you for checking in via texts, emails, Facebook messages, phone calls, or cards. 

Thank you for sitting with us through tears and laughter.
Thank you for listening.

Thank you for being honest about not knowing what to say or do. 

Thank you for asking us what you can do, and then acting on those things. 

Thank you for providing food and meals. 

Thank you for moving us: for packing the uhaul, cleaning an apartment, and unpacking the uhaul and boxes. 

Thank you for sharing our story. 

Thank you for thinking of us.
Thank you for coming to pick up the crib and giving it to someone who needs it.

Thank you for supporting us as we walk this journey. 

Our journey isn't over; we still need you. We need your prayers as we navigate "normal" life. We need your phone calls and time. Hanging out with you helps us as well. Financially we're still unsure of how it's all going to work out. Danny has been back at work and we are thankful for those hours. We are living off that paycheck alone as I am on leave until September 30th and we're still waiting for my disability insurance to come in. We've had people donate through the PayPal link at the top, send us checks in the mail (ask if you need our address), give us grocery cards, and even pay for a haircut. These have been really helpful as life has continued and unexpected expenses have come.

In the midst of moving forward, we thank you. We are incredibly grateful and blessed. 

Birth Story

I'm amazed at how quickly 2 weeks have flown by since you entered this world and went straight to be with Jesus. Today has been a rough day for Daddy and I as we have contemplated your short time with us. I'm so thankful for God's perfect timing, the way He gently equipped us for your birthday with more knowledge than we were ready for. When we learned that my cervix had shortened, we had no idea we'd be meeting you in a matter of days. But I'm so thankful for those days, and all the conversations and processing that took place in them. We were much more prepared for your birth than we had been during the ultrasound.

Around lunch on Sunday, August 25th, I felt a random contraction and Daddy wanted to keep track so that he could tell if they were coming closer together. I thought he was silly, but went along with it. I had no thoughts of full labor happening. We had lunch with friends and didn't get home till 4pm. That's when I started noticing some back discomfort that wouldn't go away. It felt like gas, but I couldn't get it to leave, no matter how much I visited the bathroom or stretched.

By 9:30pm, Daddy was a little concerned and had me text our ER Nurse friend. She was also a little concerned and wanted me to call Labor and Delivery. They were also a little concerned and wanted me to come in. I was annoyed. You know me, thinking about how I wasn't going to get any sleep that night because we'd be at the hospital and how I would be cranky at work the next day.

The hospital was freezing! Poor Daddy. He was so cold. I had to ask the nurse for a blanket for myself and for him! We were there a little over an hour before the doctor finally had a chance to check me. We had been enjoying hearing your heartbeat, but watching with interest as it dropped whenever I had a contraction. He asked a bunch of questions about how labor was going and found my cervix on the ultrasound. He finally told us I was only dilated 0.5 cm, but that my cervix had rotated so it was in the right position. He didn't think there was any need for us to stay in the hospital overnight. I've had many friends be dilated at 2 cm for weeks so I shared his lack of concern.

We got home around 1am and went to bed. Daddy was able to sleep intermittently. Unfortunately for me, contractions continued and were getting stronger. Daddy says I was playing the violin with my knees; it was the only thing that seemed to help! Around 3am I started pacing. I couldn't lay down anymore because the contractions hurt too much. I had no idea what was to come though. Daddy started timing the contractions and we were realized they were coming every 2 minutes. Time to go!

Back at the hospital, Daddy wheeled me upstairs. Just as I was trying to transfer from the wheelchair to the bed, my water broke. What a feeling! Daddy says I was embarrassed because I put my head down on the bed. I would agree, but I also just needed the support of the bed!

Once I was in the bed, the nurse hooked up a monitor for your heartbeat again, but we let her know we didn't want it. Daddy heard you before she disconnected the machine. I just couldn't imagine going through labor and hearing you flatline. I wish I would've heard your heartbeat, or noticed it, but the pain was so distracting. I'm so thankful Daddy heard you in those quick moments.

I was offered an IV and drugs while we waited for an epidural. They tried morphine and something stronger. The nurse slowly pushed them through the IV, and they didn't touch the pain! Soon after the anesthesiologist arrived with the epidural. He did a great job of getting it in without more than a needle pinch of pain.

When the doctor checked me around 5am, I was dilated to 7cm. Maybe fast labor runs in the family? Once the epidural was in, I could focus again. I think I was still in shock that everything was happening. I hadn't expected you, at least not for some time yet, but apparently you were coming!

Shortly after 6am I remember feeling the urge to push. I was told not to, but I probably asked 3 more times. First time mom here, right?! The nurse finally told me to add more epidural if the pain was too much. They wanted you to come by yourself, for my body to work with you and do everything on it's own. I'm assuming this was to make it as easy as possible on you. At some point I remember feeling something come out of my body. The nurses and doctor were there and the doctor said those words that I wasn't ready for, "It looks like he isn't breathing."

I knew that was probable, and when I felt something happen without a sound, I wondered. Hearing those words - I didn't think I was ready. "7:09am." But then they wrapped you in a blanket and laid you on my chest. In that moment, you became the most beautiful, perfect baby I had ever seen.

Daddy and I just stared. Oddly enough, I don't remember feeling sad in that moment. I was enthralled by you. I stroked your cheek and your hair. Daddy and I laughed at how much hair you had. We carefully pulled back your blanket to see your beautiful face. There was no fear when we saw your double cleft lip. Your eyes were closed and you were so peaceful, so warm.

Daddy held you too, and I remember the way he looked at you. His eyes were filled with tears, and with so much love. You are so loved Jonathan. When he handed you back, he went to find our friends who were able to come that early in the morning. You got to meet Josiah, McKenna, and Rayah, Tim, Ryan, and Spencer and Elizabeth. I'm so glad we got to share you with them, and I'm saddened that you didn't get to meet everyone else. There are so many people who wanted to meet you, to know you, to share their love with you.

Spencer said it best in an email to us the next day. "Never had I felt such overwhelming joy like that holding a baby. {Spencer has younger brothers that he's been able to hold at birth.} Never. I looked down (I apologize for being blunt here) at his tiny body, double cleft pallet, thinking about his stomach and his lifelessness... and you guys I swear to you when I say this; he was the most perfect baby I had ever seen. He was perfection. And I couldn't get that out of my head, because that just doesn't make any logical sense. I couldn't get it out my head. I looked at him and all his physical imperfections, but he was the image of perfection to me. That's when it hit me; that is how Jesus sees us. We are spiritually lifeless, double cleft palleted, stillborns and yet through Christ we are redeemed and perfect. It was such a gift to see his physical flaws but to only register the purest and most perfect love looking at him. It was amazing guys. Your son was so beautiful."

We are so thankful, so blessed, that the nurses just let us hold you, cuddle you, for as long as we wanted. We had to hand you off around 10am because your omphalocele started leaking. They washed you, measured you, and returned you. I can't imagine not having those hours with you. My favorite part? Everyone had gone and it was just the three of us trying to get a little rest. I had you on my chest, cuddled in, and just snuggled with you while I closed my eyes.

We had been told that we could stay as long as we liked, but the doctors and nurses all understood that it would be best for us to grieve at home. They released us around 2:30pm. It took some time to get me cleaned up and ready to go. The nurse left us to say our final goodbye to you. We each held you one last time, giving you kisses for your aunts, uncles, and grandparents who would never get the chance to meet you. Daddy sang Jesus Loves Me to you. And then it was time. We walked out the door with everything we had come in with, leaving the most important piece of ourselves behind.

We miss you little man. 
Love always, Momma and Daddy.

Jonathan Alexander Miller

August 26th, 2013

1 lb, 6 oz, 12 inches long

7:09am

we live

we learn

we laugh

we cry

we love

Grieving

The last three weeks have been ridiculous. We went from hoping and praying for our son to be carried full term, to going through labor in a matter of days. Wednesday we had an ultrasound, Friday we met with the geneticist, and Sunday I went into labor (the birth story will come)! The hospital stay only lasted about 12 hours, adding to the fast-paced feel. We had been planning on moving at the end of August, so even though we lost our son, we still needed to go through with our plans. We had some family members come out and help, and many friends provided food. Overall, it has been a blur. Many times I have to wonder if the whole thing is real. 

Danny and I have been processing as it comes. Grief is a different kind of emotion. I was journaling the other night about how life feels right now. I was thinking about losing grandparents and other people I've known, and how this is completely different. I started thinking through why. Jonathan is our son. There is a different bond between a parent and a child. Not only are we grieving a son, we are grieving a new life that we were planning for. 

When you think about becoming a parent, you watch other people who have children. You pay close attention to what they do in order to better understand. You have conversations about children and how they change your life. You think about how the house is going to look, how to rearrange your furniture to make space for this little human you're bringing into the world. You start thinking about your time and what you do with it, knowing that this little person will change that. Being a parent is a whole new identity, a brand new role that you have to prepare for without really knowing how to prepare. 

We were so excited to be parents. Throughout our 9 years of marriage, we had numerous discussions about the right time to have children. We knew we had a lot to learn, but we were excited about this new season we were finally beginning. We were excited about bringing up Jonathan in a home where he knew how much he was loved. We were excited to learn who he was, and see him grow into the man God created him to be. This is part of why losing Jonathan is so hard. There's so much wrapped up in being a parent. We are still parents, and will always be parents, but we don't have a child on this side of heaven. 

We see pictures of our friends children, and our nieces and nephews, and enjoy them. Then we hear a child at a store and it brings us to tears. We just never know when grief will come, what little situation will trigger an emotional reaction that wasn't there before. 

The next step is learning how to transition. We want to remember Jonathan, and yet we know we need to move forward. We're just not sure what that looks like, how much to hold on and how much to let go. My heart still hurts, and yet I find myself resting in the peace that he is with the Father, that he never has to suffer. So we walk gently with each other, providing space to grieve and enjoy life. We live day by day, moment by moment, learning how to rely on Jesus in a new way.