We teach our children all about life, but our children teach us what life is all about.

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