June 27, 2012
Today I buried my son.
Although today was not the worst day, it was a day that no parent should
ever have to endure. The last seven days of my life have passed me by in a
blur. I can honestly say that I lived the moments but wasn’t really there. My
body has been moving forward based on nothing but pure adrenaline and the
maternal ferocity to do what is best for my precious son. And now that it is
all over I feel like the crash has begun. As soon as I arrived home from the
burial I felt more tired than I have ever felt in my entire life. I waited for
Rocco to eat a quick grilled cheese and then we snuggled down in our favorite
recliner for a nap. It was then that I remembered that the last time we had
done that Lincoln had slept snugly and peacefully between us; wrapped up safely
in the warm cocoon of my womb, all of my hopes and dreams for him still alive
and well…dreams, at least, of him spending time with me on this side of
Heaven. And I fully realize that he is
in a better place. Although he was taken from the physical world so very soon,
his spirit lives on with the Father in a place that we can only imagine until
the day that we are called home; the day we’ll stand at the pearly gates and
give recollection of our time on this earth, awaiting judgment and the
opportunity to step onto the streets of gold and meet those that have gone long
before us. How I now look at death in
such a different way! I stare at the beautiful images taken of my sweet Lincoln
just moments after his birth and I see how peaceful he was. I told Tommy that I was honestly a little
jealous of my boy. He is already singing the eternal praises of Jesus in a
place so glorious none of us can imagine! When I got a funny look from him, I
was quick to assure him that I didn’t mean I was ready to go anytime soon (I
want to live as long as God will allow me, hopefully to see Rocco’s babies have
babies of their own!). However, Lincoln was given a special opportunity that
few get. He never had to face the ills of the world in which we live. He was
never made fun of for being different; he will never know hurt or betrayal or
loneliness or fear; he will never have to wonder why horrible things happen and
sometimes the innocent are injured and the guilty go free. Instead, Jesus
decided to call him home early. Perhaps he was just too beautiful for this
earth. Maybe his tiny soul was too sensitive, too empathetic to handle those
things. But I know that when his tiny heart stopped beating, he immediately
went from resting in the warm embrace of my womb straight into the arms of
Jesus, who I know blessed him upon his entry and said “child, come to me”. And
for that I am so grateful.
No matter the strength of your faith, nothing can prepare
your heart for the pain of losing a child. My arms feel so empty with no new
baby to hold and snuggle. At night, I have taken to sleeping with a blanket
that wrapped Lincoln at the hospital. I know it is silly but I still need that
little piece of him with me. And I often
find myself smelling the clothes he wore at the hospital. His smell was not a
typical baby smell and I am sure wouldn’t smell very good to some. But it is a
mixture of the soap he was washed in, and the fluids of my womb mixed with his
own sweet smell. And to me it is the most precious and wonderful smell on
earth. I have put his little clothes in a bag to try to preserve it as long as
I can. I am so afraid of losing some of my memories of his birthday. I want to
remember how his little body fit perfectly into my arms, his sweet smell, how
it felt to kiss his tiny lips and caress his face. Most of all, I just want to
never forget everything that he meant to me and that he has taught me.
His birth was an overwhelming experience, and it came so
fast that I didn’t really have time to think about it. One minute I was dilated
to 5cm and sleeping peacefully, only to awaken thirty minutes later to pressure
in my lower abdomen and a feeling of sickness in my throat. When I called the
nurse she verified that I was ready. Thinking that being induced was a much slower
process than going into labor naturally, I had sent my parents and brother down
to get lunch while I took a nap. It was quite a shock to them to get a phone
call as soon as they sat down to eat. My mom literally ran the whole way back
to the hospital and barely arrived in time. I had been emotionally handling
things up until the point when the nurse said I was ready. And that is when I
realized that I wasn’t. At all. As long as I didn’t deliver then he was still
safe in my womb. Of course I logically knew he had no heartbeat and was already
gone, but I wasn’t ready to birth him. To not hear him cry or see his tiny
hands clench and his feet kick. I just wasn’t ready. And then I pushed. Once.
And he was here. And out of me came the most beautiful baby boy (tied with
Rocco for the award of handsomest child).
And he looked absolutely perfect…ten tiny fingers, ten tiny toes, the
face of an angel with no overly exaggerated trisomy traits. And a head full of
the most beautiful dark hair with a hint of blonde highlights. Just a perfect
baby boy. And he was mine. And although he won’t ever live with me in my home,
he is forever and always a part of me and in my heart. And I am just blessed
with the opportunity to say I was the mommy of such a child as this, that has
taught me the most important lessons of life, and love, and faith. And on this,
his birthday, Tommy and I held our baby son, and by the grace of God we had the
opportunity to tell him how loved he was, and how beautiful he was, and how we
would miss him so much but see him again one sweet day. And who knows? We don’t
know how God measures time in Heaven. Of course, we have a system here on
earth, but one of our years may only be seconds to God. Maybe by the time we
make it to Heaven Lincoln will have just been waiting for a few brief moments.
But I hope that he is really enjoying himself today! I imagine that he is
running with other children and playing in fields of wildflowers whose colors
are more brilliant than we can imagine. And he doesn’t realize any feelings of
loneliness because God is there. There is no pain, and there are no tears. And
I have imagined how wonderful his homecoming must have been. You see, he has
four brothers and sisters there already, although I just don’t know how many of
each or any of their names. If Linc is
anything like Rocco, I am sure that he has taken charge and is leading the
little pack. I can only laugh to myself thinking of all the mischief that they
will undoubtedly be getting themselves in to. Halo frisbee? Flying too fast? I am not sure
what, but I bet all of my little ones are thoroughly enjoying having a new big
brother on the block. J
Lincoln’s burial today was not the worst moment for me. That
came when it was time to hand him over to the funeral home at the hospital. We were able to spend as much time as we
needed and wanted with our son. Soon after his birth, all of our family was
able to come and share in the joy of holding him. It was important to us that
they all get to meet him. And like any proud new parents, Tommy and I sat back
and allowed others to hold him and gloated about his beauty. And it was
definitely bittersweet, but I think it helped us to know that everyone else
felt the same way about him that we did. He was just a little boy who was perfect
in our eyes and in the eyes of God, but he was just gone from us too soon. And
after everyone had left and Tommy and I were alone, we said a prayer over his
sweet body, and we thanked God for the blessing that was Lincoln. After several
hours had passed, we knew that the time was drawing near for him to leave us
physically as well. This marks the moment that I will always remember as the
hardest thing I have ever had to do. When I had to hand over the body of my
precious baby into the hands of the nurse who would take him to the waiting
funeral car, I knew that I would likely never experience a more difficult
moment in my lifetime (God willing). Even though I knew that Lincoln wasn’t
really there any longer, it was still hard for my maternal instincts. I wanted
to fiercely protect his little body. He was never out of my eyesight the entire
time that we had with him, and he was only out of my arms for brief visits with
other family members or the nurse who measured him and weighed him. She was such a blessing to us as well, because
she treated Lincoln no different than she would have had he been a live birth. She
cooed at him and talked to him, and I felt my spirit lift a little even
then. But after they took his little
body away, my body racked with sobs. He was gone from me, but thankfully not
forever. I am so glad to have a Savior and a promise of everlasting life with
Him, a promise that I will see my sweet boy again and that he is forever safe
in the arms of Jesus. When I think of
Lincoln in that perspective, it is hard to be sad. There was a poem I saw on
the internet when going thru things to include in Lincoln’s service. The poem
said something like “if Heaven had a staircase I would come and bring you back
to me”…or something similar. But I didn’t like that line. Lincoln has
experienced the joy and greatness that is Heaven, and I would never ever want
to go up there and bring him back down to me for my own selfishness. He is in
absolute paradise, and it is ridiculous to think otherwise. Thank you Jesus for
this blessing!
Lincoln’s receiving of friends was nice. It was wonderful to
see how loved he was and hear how he has made a difference in so many lives
even in his brief time on earth. There were more smiles than tears, so I count
that as a good thing. Tommy and I went to see him one final time to view his
body in his burial clothes prior to the service. I was really anxious about
seeing him, but I am honestly glad that we did. It was so evident to me upon
seeing him that his body was there, but he wasn’t. Praise God! He lives with
Jesus today! It really made me feel a sense of peacefulness and filled my heart
with gladness. The son I knew from the hospital was my son, and although he had
already gone from us at that point, I know that the presence of the Lord was in
that hospital room with us and provided for and sustained us during that time.
Because of this, it felt like Lincoln was still there with us in spirit. But at
the funeral home, I knew that he had gone. And it did make it a little easier
on this mommy to endure the services at the church and the cemetery. And I’ll
be honest; my tears aren’t for Lincoln and his well-being. He is made whole and
is perfect. My tears are for myself, and knowing that I won’t have him with me
any longer. I won’t hear him say mommy, or witness his first steps, or take him
to his first day of kindergarten. And I am grieving all of those
might-have-beens with my precious boy. I
grieve that I won’t get to watch him grow alongside Rocco, and that Rocco won’t
remember any of this when he gets older. He will know Lincoln of course,
because he will forever and always be a part of our family, but he won’t
remember the birth or the death. And maybe that is better. He’ll see the
pictures and know all of the good things about his baby brother. This afternoon
after everything had settled down, we went back to the cemetery to get some
flowers from the arrangements left on the grave to preserve. And one of the
arrangements had a little white bird in it. And Rocco went up and touched it
and asked me for it specifically. So I let him take it home, and he treated it
with such care. I told him it was a present from his little brother, and that
we would put it up for safekeeping for him to have one day when he is older as
a sweet reminder of his little brother. It was so simple and innocent. It was like
Rocco just knew. It has amazed me the last few days how perceptive Rocco has
been, and how his hugs and kisses have abundantly flowed to his mommy, who
needed them more than ever. And it was Rocco that reminded me of the child-like
faith that Christ tells us to bring to Himself.
“Do not hinder the children, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.” And it was through the actions of my darling
little Rocco that I was reminded that Lincoln was drawn directly to the Father,
and all he had to do was accept the gift of eternity. I pray for the day when Rocco will fully
understand and grasp the greatness of God’s sacrifice for us, and that he will
accept Jesus into his heart without fear or reservations. Until that time, it was so sweet to see his
childlike love and faith. And it was a beautiful ending to a bittersweet day.
And it gave me hope. Hope for the lives that we will continue to lead, hope for
the difference that we can make with Lincoln’s story and the effect his life
has had on ours, and hope that we WILL see him again. All because God WILLINGLY gave His Son. Oh
what a Savior! Continued prayers for our family will be appreciated as we begin
to navigate the new direction that our lives have taken. We will heal and grow
and move forward, but we’ll never forget. And through it all, I pray that we
will continue to “Praise Him in this storm”.
Blessings,
Lindsey
