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A Good Friday, Even in Death

A year ago today, we said good-bye.

In an ugly hospital room, surrounded by friends and family, my mom gave up her failing, earthly body for the arms of Jesus. And if I’m honest, it felt too soon. This wasn’t the script I’d written. There were more grandbabies for her to hold. More laughter and smiles for her to wrap us in. More life.

It seems fitting that this one year anniversary falls on Good Friday: a day marked by death and sorrow. A day for tears and mourning. A day when the clothes are black, the mood somber. But what man meant for evil, God meant for Good — even death upon a cross.

Because Good Friday holds such GOOD news.  Read more

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First There Were Two

We took this photo when there were two.

On a warm, July night, five years ago – when the sand burned the bottoms of my soles and the air smelled like salt and heat. I held my belly between the palms of my hands and felt the tangle of limbs kicking within. Two boys tumbled and rolled and life collided with possibility and promise.

And then, the waves rose and the sandcastles crumbled and the world which I had so tenderly held disappeared.

We took this photo when there were two.

Before we knew the babies were sick.

Before the rush of blood from one to the other.

Before his heart stopped.

Before the world changed.

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GIVEAWAY: Nest Necklace!

If you’ve been following our story (or have read the last few blog posts), you’ll know that July is a bit of an emotionally charged month for us. This year, we are celebrating Alistair’s third birthday, Landon’s three years in heaven, Kära’s one year in heaven, and Björn’s would-be due date. It’s a lot of loss for one month, but it’s also a whole lot of love.

And so, to remember and celebrate our four, beautiful, July babies, I am hosting my very first GIVEAWAY! 

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To All My July Babies

The smell of roasting hot dogs and smokey BBQ drifts through my open window; a dusky twilight the flavour of summer. This is July. It’s a month marked by blue skies and slow drifting clouds, of flip flops and short shorts and fingers stained with fresh fruit juice. Lazy days are scented in coconut sunscreen, and punctuated with road trip tunes and tanning sessions by the lake.

But this month no longer looks the way I remember it as a child. It’s grown and shifted in its memories. It’s fuller. It’s more intricate in its complexities.

It’s more beautiful.

Now, when I think of July, I think of a tiny baby lying in a NICU incubator. I see little lungs heaving beneath fragile skin, and desperate prayers lifted high from a tear-stained hospital bed. I think of a child lying still in my arms, a tiny body swaddled in love. I think of blood, and hospital visits, and pregnancies that never made it past the first trimester. It’s a month of birthdays, and anniversaries, missed due dates, and death dates.

Alistair. Landon. Kära. Björn. My four July babies.

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The Art of Blogging Well

One year ago today, I hit “publish” on my first blog post.

I still hesitate before clicking the little blue button that sends a post zooming into your emails and Facebook feeds, but that first time was especially intimidating. Feeling vulnerable, and slightly self-conscious (not to mention fighting off every blogger’s worst fear – “What if nobody reads this??”) I took a deep breath and began to furiously type out our story.

Twelve months and sixty posts later, we’re here. Wherever exactly “here” is.

I started this site as a much needed outlet for grief; thoughts that I had previously been unable to speak found their voice on these pages. And during the process, I re-discovered a love for words and a quiet delight that comes along with each satisfying click of the keyboard.

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Remembering Landon

One year ago today, I buried my baby.

It was grey and drizzly as we made our way from a nondescript funeral viewing room to a soggy graveside. As my husband and our fathers lifted the tiny, white casket out of the hearse, I couldn’t help but picture blue booties and a tiny baby clad in airplane pyjamas.

I had never gotten the chance to dress him, never seen him smile, or felt him burrow against my chest. I had never even seen the color of his eyes. And yet, here I was, saying good-bye.

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10 Things I’ve Learned being with You

When it comes to marriage, I’m in my infancy. Just barely out of the honeymoon stage and with only two years under my belt, I still find myself toddling around on occasionally wobbly feet. Like childhood, these early years offer exponential growth and steep learning curves. While this journey in togetherness has been teaching me oh-so-many things, I have yet to gather a collection of profound wisdom or great advice. But I do have are twenty-four months of stunningly beautiful memories and laughter, struggles, excitement and day to day life.

And so, entering into our third year as husband and wife, here is a quick glimpse (just barely scratching the surface here) into what this wonderful adventure has been teaching me:

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