I'm still here

Sorry for the lack of posts recently. Some of the things I've been thinking about lately can be found on my friend Mark's blog (see posts on Kusher)...

Glasses

I have been wearing my glasses (instead of my contacts) now for a year. I had just bought a good pair of glasses a few days before we lost Zach (ironically I had bought them to wear in the hospital - I just wasn't expecting to wear them so soon). After losing him, I felt this great urge to keep wearing them - even though I hadn't worn glasses since the 6th grade. After what I went through, I wanted to look different. I was not the same person anymore. As silly as it sounds, wearing my glasses was very meaningful to me. But it went beyond just how I looked. It also was a reminder of how much my vision of life had changed. You see, the theme of my blog since the very beginning has been "Reflections in the Mirror." At different times I have had different subtitles, such as "Things are not always as they seem" or the verse from I Corinthians 13 that says "Now we see but a poor reflection in the mirror" etc. The reason I chose this theme for my blog is because it has been a theme in my own life for the last 3-4 years now. Things have not been as they seem, and I have been discovering this through some rough life experiences. The strongest I have felt this theme has been in the last year, when I learned that I am not invicible and that life can be incredibly painful. And that God is not who I thought he was. I have seen so many things in the last 12 months that I could probably write a book someday. I dont mean to say that all these things I have seen are necessarily new and profound - some of them would probably sound very basic, others not so much so - but to me, they have all been incredibly significant and have shaped me into who I am today.

... And I have to say, as much as I would undo the tragedy that Adam and I have gone through IN A SECOND, I don't want go back to being who I was before, or seeing things the way I did before. You just can't go back. Both Adam and I feel this way. We have gained something unspeakable that will be with us always.

And so for now... I continue to wear my glasses.

Adam and I spent Saturday remembering and honoring baby Zach with our close friends and family. The memorial was beautiful - it was exactly what we wanted and everything we needed. We have been reminded of how much we are truly loved.

March 10th

It’s very hard to believe a year has gone by since our hearts were broken by baby Zach’s death. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about him, in some way or another. I often wonder what he would have been like – his personality, his looks, his character. Would he have been outgoing, or shy? Would he have been a bookworm like his parents? Would he have had his daddy’s dry sense of humor, or been over-analytical like his momma? Would he have loved sports and supported the Steelers, like his dad, or loved the piano, like his mom? Even little things, like would he have pulled Toby’s tail out on the deck, or chased him around the yard? It’s sad to think that we will never know the answers to these questions.

There are so many unwritten “memories” that I have of him – things that will never come to be. His first steps, first day of school, first girlfriend, first time behind the wheel, high school and college graduation, wedding day, etc. This is what is the hardest about grief over one who died in the womb – you don’t have any memories. They are all just dreams that stay dreams.

It is difficult to know how to mourn for one I never met, but one whom I loved nonetheless. The world often has a hard time validating the significance of babies, especially ones that were never known or held. But we know that Zach was special – that He was God’s gift to us, and that he was greatly wanted and loved. I know I didn’t grasp this until we lost him. For truly, my short time with him has changed me forever. I am not the same person I was before him. That, if nothing else, serves to remind me just how precious he is. What little relationship I had with him in the womb was powerful – I didn’t even realize how much so until he was gone.

As for now, a year later, I’m still working hard to sort through all my feelings and thoughts regarding everything that has happened concerning Zach. I think I will be doing this for the rest of my life, although I anticipate greater relief and peace the further along I go. I believe he wants our joy to be restored, and our heartache to be redeemed. I like to believe that Zach is in heaven smiling at us, knowing how much we love him and wanted him to be a part of our earthly family. I like to believe that God has given him the ability to understand our difficulties in trying to grieve for him but also move on. That he knows he will always have a place in our heart as our first born son; even that he is excited about a baby sister coming for his mommy and daddy to hold. His sister will make us a family of four, even though only three of us are physically together. I’ve often read that a woman who loses a child, even one that was still in the womb, forever feels that her family is incomplete. I believe that is true.

This day is a powerful reminder of the excruciating pain and loss that Adam and I experienced with Zach’s death. There are no words to do it justice. Yet, we are comforted that while we wrestle with grief, Zach is at peace, in the arms of Jesus. While I know he wants to be with us, at least we can know that he is well taken care of, and that we will see him again someday. One of my favorite images of him to remember is a video of a sonogram that we had done just a few weeks before he died. At one point in the video, you can see him hold his hand up, and it appears he is waving to us. At the time we thought he was saying hello to us, but now, it is the final scene in my mind of saying goodbye. What a treasure to have that image of him, our baby boy.

Lovingly dedicated to the memory of Zach Moore, our first born son, who died before he was born on March 10, 2006.

March 9th

Dedicating this post to the memory of Katie Laine Wrublesky, who was born too soon and passed away one year ago today, and who is in heaven with my baby Zach. Wishing peace and comfort on all of Katie's family.

Momentous week

I am entering into a momentous week, for two different reasons. One being that I have reached the third trimester with this baby (name to be announced soon), and am beginning to feel and experience hope and joy at having made it this far - even some belief that Adam and I actually will get to hold this little girl, and that she will be a part of our family on earth, not just in heaven. The other being that I am approaching the one year anniversary of the day we lost our baby son Zach - and all the memories that go along with that (many of them still very vivid). Try to imagine the conflicting emotions. I honestly have struggled with how to feel this week.

Adam asked me the other day if I felt like it had been an entire year since that tragic day. I said no, because for me, time stopped last March, and didn't really pick up again for several months. I don't really have the sensation of experiencing a full year. He felt the same way.

We are holding a small memorial for Zach out at the cemetery on Saturday, the day of the one year anniversary. We did not have a funeral last year, and very few have even seen the grave marker. Adam and I are anticipating this as being a very fitting and comforting way to spend the day, having those closest to us surround us in loving memory of our first born son. We were also blessed to have some friends offer to host a reception afterwards at their house. We truly have felt loved.