Retrospect....

I remember I was more annoyed than excited to go to my doctor's appointment last year.  My office was getting busy (like seeing a whole 10 people in a day) and I wanted to do work instead of go to the doctor.  I mean, I already knew it was a boy.  He even had a name, for crying out loud.

I was annoyed walking in.

Got more annoyed while I was there-- the chaos of the appointment.  45 minutes in the ultrasound room.  Tia's constrained voice.  Going to the consult room instead of the "appointment room".  The glucose tests that would not work.  All 4 of them.  Dr. Leezer tried her best to be gentle to me and the determined nurses.  While she told me of all the abnormalities she saw.

In my little boy.

In Everett.

I remember the shock.

I remember sobbing on the bridge over Exit 16 on 575.

I remember calling Keith.  It was a huge day for him.  At work.  Big meeting.  I remember debating if I was even going to call.

And 4 minutes later having to see a patient.  And then another.  And then another.

On autopilot.

Then researching everything I could for us to see.  I only looked for the mild possibilities.

I couldn't fathom the worst.

I couldn't accept that my baby would die.

I walked in to a red faced, tear stained husband after we both cut out of our offices early.

We convinced ourselves it wasn't severe.  We convinced ourselves there would be mild complications and that was all.  We couldn't handle anything else.  Our marriage couldn't handle anything else.  I had just started an office-- that was going well, but needed all of my attention and time.  We convinced ourselves it was nothing.

I remember showing him the ultrasound photos.  Trying to explain what he was looking at.

Last night I knew this date, January 10th, was here, I felt all those emotions again.  The indelible fragments of time etched perfectly. intricately into my brain.

And I wanted my baby.  My Everett.

As the world keeps dumping stress after stress-- many of them manufactured of our own choosing, many others the direct result of another's words (particularly this week),  I was overwhelmed with the same reminder I was given a year ago.... and the following months.

Be still and the Lord will fight for you.  You need only to be still. 

Exodus 14:14

Sometimes the biggest sense of wonder we can find in our faith is the ability to be peaceful in the middle of chaos.  To be still in the rat race.  To know and see and feel the tornado around you and be able to say

 The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
²     He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
³     he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
    for his name’s sake.
⁴ Even though I walk
    through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
    for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
    they comfort me.

⁵ You prepare a table before me
    in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
    my cup overflows.
⁶ Surely your goodness and love will follow me
    all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord
    forever.

Psalm 23

May you find that peace today.  For He alone provides it.

^{http://stayathomechiro.blogspot.com/2012/01/world-doesnt-stop-just-because-your.html}

This was my first "Everett Post".  It was written on Jan 12, a year ago.  It is remembering today.  

the first christmas

The first Christmas.

Christmas was on a Tuesday.

I started crying on Sunday.
Alone.  Well, sorta.  At church.

What was intended likely to be a way to say thank you to God for your "God Moment" in 2012, made me sob.

I was alone.  Aiden was sick at home.  Keith stayed home. 

Instead of the traditional candlelight service, in typical untypical fashion, we had our own take on the beautiful tradition.

If you had a God Moment this year, if there was a way that God showed up in your life this year, a way that Jesus revealed himself to you this year, come up, light a candle.

I wasn't going to go.  I wasn't going to walk down and light a candle alone.  But I couldn't stand there.  Alone.  It was like I was pushed.  I walked down.  And started crying from the moment I left my seat. 

A few hugs and shared tears later.  I think it really began to hit me. 

There wasn't a baby this Christmas.  Just an extra thirty pounds.
The outfit I bought a year ago to tell the Keith we were having another boy.  It's downstairs.  In the Everett boxes.  Never worn.
The Christmas picture this year is just the same as last year.  Two little boys.


Kippy went down with the crud on Christmas Eve.  Only wanted me.  And I got to rock him.  Like I should have been doing for the last 7 months.

It was cathartic.  And healing.  The parents and Keith just on the other side of the wall.  Laughing.  Talking.  Eating.  Me and Kipton, in the sitting room.  Me crying.  Kipton sleeping.  Drooling.  All over my shirt.  A day or two later, Kipton was throwing an all out fit.  Nothing could satisfy him.  I got him Everett Bear.  And he squeezed him and calmed down immediately.  And held him tight for next few hours.

Aiden has been talking about Everett a lot lately.  The other day he asked me to get him a tiny little baby to sleep with him.  Everett was his favorite tiny little baby.  He wanted him.

We were laying down the other night and he asked me to tell him about Everett and when he was born.  He said he missed him.  He wanted him to come back so he could sleep in his room with him.  He wanted Everett to snuggle him and eat chickens with him.  We got him Everett Bear to sleep with.  And for 4 days, if I bring him back to my room, he gets him and takes him back.  Tonight, he said he wanted to take him to the park with us tomorrow.  So Everett could have some fun.



I write this not to seek pity or even in hopes that anyone will read it, but to have for me.  To treasure these loving memories my boys have of their little brother.  I love my boys.  I love my family.