All posts tagged: Heidibird

Blizzard :: Blogging

You should see the blizzard conditions outside the windows of this old farmhouse. Fields and fields of white! It’s a pretty impressive whiteout right now. Well, maybe you’re like me, cozied up in a nordic knit with a side of bacon and a hot drink. (Don’t add too much rum to it, now? 😉 I have some time to think and to write. Unlike recently. I can’t remember when I last posted something. To be honest – which I assume is what you expect as the reader of a blog – I’ve hit a whole new level of grief. The truth is – which you can’t relate to unless you’ve experienced some level of grief in your life – I’ve been locked up in my own fears and doubts and anger. I’ve been trapped in my fear of the next worst possible scenario, trapped in my doubt that God isn’t compassionate, trapped in my anger that Heidi isn’t here. That’s the gist of it. There’s a whole lot more ugly, but I’m sparing you and …

Giving: Gifts for the Grieving

My love language is certainly gift giving; I find much joy in receiving a simple well intentioned gift from a loved one, and I thrill in thinking up what sorts of gifts to give someone for any occasion. Naturally, it meant a great deal to receive meaningful gifts our first Christmas without our daughter Heidi. Since she was born in November and we had anticipated sharing those nostalgic winter holidays with her, we barely made it through the season. But many friends, and others we don’t even know, reached out to us with presents for our pain. We’ve decided to use Heidi’s stocking to fill each Christmas with gifts for those we know are suffering. Since we’re in the midst of the twelve days of Christmas, here’s a list of twelve gift ideas for the grieving: I received a crocheted purple prayer shawl, which I loved curling up with while reading and contemplating on those dark somber winter days. Obviously I love to read and a childhood friend saw that I was pinning many books …

Sunset: Intuitive Art

This evening we were cruising along the country hill roads to a friend’s house for dinner, and I sat in the back with Everley since we didn’t bring her apnea monitor (for longer drives we feel safer keeping her hooked up if she’s slumped or sleeping in the carseat). As the sun was setting behind those blue hued mountains, the low clouds had that slight mauve, lavender gray shade, which always makes me think of my Heidi girl. Her nursery was a woodsy lavender theme (see here: Sneak Peek: Nursery Picks). While staring at the clouds, thinking of Heidi and how much I miss her, I felt a tightening grip on my finger; my girl Everley had taken hold of my finger and would not let go. I suddenly had a flashback to holding Heidi in my arms and feeling her firm grasp of my shirt while nursing, and then I remembered a powerful moment after she was gone of staring at those same mountains with those same clouds and hearing in my mind as if …

Why: Trust & Pray

Today I was hit yet again with the frailty of life. My husband subscribes to AR15, which is an online community of family oriented conservative firearm fanatics, and last year when Heidi passed he shared publicly his story of trying to revive her in the middle of the night and failing to bring her back even as a career paramedic. He stated in the post that he would still trust that God was in the midst of our dark sorrow and that God would remain faithful. Manly’s story was viewed over 10,000 times and he received more than 600 condolences from AR15 users. It was astounding. One man responded with just a picture, and this picture is worth more than 1,000 words: A year later, this same month when Heidi passed, another AR15 user posted that his fifteen month old son had suddenly died in his sleep days before. He wrote that the child seemed unwell though it wasn’t anything serious; their little boy was found lying face down not breathing in his crib and …

Balloons: Up to Heaven

This time last year we attended our daughter’s memorial service. Exactly one week after I had given birth to her, a glorious event, we were celebrating her glorious homegoing. It was too poignant for words. A day I will never forget and full of bittersweetness. Ian and I felt then that the ceremony gave us some closure. The memorial service was so well executed – the 90s Christian music playlist I had organized for the prelude, the lavender ribbons and bows like her nursery that adorned the sanctuary, the numerous pictures of her precious face in the church foyer, the heartfelt messages Ian and I shared with the congregation, the powerful pastoral teaching from the scriptures about Hope and grieving well, the prayers and poems and lullabies shared by family members, the hugs and kind words of so many dear people – we felt uplifted and at peace beyond understanding. But that warm feeling blew away as the chilly winter winds swept in. By late November we were struggling to just get out of bed …

Acceptance: Past & Present

I’ve accepted that my firstborn is gone from this life. Came for a time and left when she was called. Acceptance yields surrender but not peace. Acceptance is part of grieving well but it does not heal the wound. I’ve accepted that my second born daughter is a gift and a balm. She’s here for a different purpose and she, too, is precious in the sight of God. Acceptance is part of living on but it does not leave the past behind.   Heidi’s birthday, the first of November, we’d planned a special family celebration in memory of her. The day arrived and we had no energy to spare for such an occasion. We slept in late, ate very little, said very little, and took a walk in the orchard. You will find that is necessary to let things go; simply for the reason that they are heavy. – author unknown In all things it is better to hope than to despair. – Von Goethe In these bodies we will live; in these bodies we …

First Birthday: a Letter

Dear Heidi, This day last year I was nursing you, snuggling you, praying over you, smelling you, kissing you. It’s hard to believe an entire year has passed in between that moment and now. An entire year of not being with you. 361 days without you in my arms. I miss you, Heidi girl. You know what? Your arrival into this world was just so crazy! You totally caught me by surprise, girlfriend. You’d been a bun in the oven for 38 weeks, and I thought we still had some bake time left. But, nope, you up and decided that since mom had too many brownies on Halloween the caffeine would help you out on the descent. And sure enough did you descend! I knew my body was in the process of preparing to bring you into the world, but I didn’t know you’d come flying. Do you remember that? The truth is, we here on Earth don’t remember those kinds of things, but somehow I suspect that you understand or know a lot of …