Held

Happy Birthday Big Boy.

2009-08-09T18:57:00.003-05:00

Phoenix Gabriel, you are 4 today according to our calendar. I miss you terribly and wish you were here. I can imagine you running around with your baby brother Forest and I am sure that the noise around here would be crazy. My heart hurts but we are doing well. Your big brother and sister wish you were here. They pray for you all of the time... they pray for God to please tell you how much you are loved and missed. We can't wait to join you. Love you baby boy... MOMMY.

Strange

2008-07-07T00:24:00.002-05:00

Each day is better. I miss my little guy, but I know he is well and I am feeling good. But, I am finding that I have a big hole in my life. I find myself longing for a 3 year old little boy. I should have been potty training this past year. I should have been disciplining and running ragged trying to keep up with him. He should be swimming in our pool and bouncing on the trampoline. I can literally see him doing all of those things. I miss you Phoenix. Mommy can't wait to see you again. I will hold you for as long as you will let me...

A lifetime

2008-05-24T17:06:00.003-05:00

I am still unwrapping this package of grief that I was handed almost 3 years ago. Can I just say that I want my baby boy back so badly? I have been OK for a while and thinking of him every day, but lately, I am just suffocating. I look at the pictures of him and my whole body aches. WHY? WHY? WHY? I just want him back. I want to hold him. As my relationship with Forest grows, I realize so much more what has been taken from me. He looks at me and knows me now. He smiles and rests so peacefully in mommy's arms. Why sweet Phoenix did you not get that chance?
I have nothing to give to anyone around me once again. I wonder how long this can go on? Mourning is such an all encompassing experience. Once I enter in, all of my energy is there and I can give nothing. I can't answer the phone, I can't be with others, I just hurt. I know God is wrapping His arms around me, even as I type. Yet, I had to be honest, I am doing nothing but hurting right now...
I guess I have a lifetime ahead of me... and I know I will be aching for him through all of it.

Lesson from Ava

2008-03-11T05:32:00.002-05:00

After Phoenix was born, I didn't share our photos much. I loved him so much, and I couldn't bear the thought of someone else seeing him and NOT loving him and seeing how precious he was... because all they would see was a puffy and purple little boy. But, I underestimated people. I have watched so many of you love Ava. During the baby dedication for Ava at her house, her daddy said, "Before Ava was born, I didn't know what unconditional love was. Now, I know. She is my daughter and I love her. Even with her imperfections." So, I feel a bit sad that I haven't given you the chance to know and love Phoenix. I know you did as well as you could, but I have been so guarded of him. So, here he is, our sweet little boy, so beautiful to us. We miss him.

Still praying

2008-03-05T21:51:00.002-06:00

Well, God in His sovereignty has kept Ava here for a week now. UNBELIEVABLE. It is a miracle. Thank you Lord for her precious beautiful life. Thank you.

Please Pray.

2008-02-27T02:31:00.001-06:00

My friend has headed to the hospital to give birth to her precious girl. Please pray that she will be OK. That God in His sovereignty would keep her here for as long as possible. If it be a few minutes, a few years, or 80 years, pray that His will would be done and that her mommy and daddy and family would be surrounded by the presence of God and know that He is there with them.

Thank you...

Adios mi amigos!

2008-02-19T08:35:00.004-06:00

Well, for the last few months I have laughed and cried with you all. Mostly cried. Now, I will be blogging on a different page. I will come back occasionally and post if there is something I need to say about Phoenix. He'll be mentioned in the other blog too. He IS after all, a part of the family. The new blog is www.wildfamilychronicles.blogspot.com. You should visit. You can click below on "The Call of The Wild". I couldn't include Cook anywhere... they were all taken. It's like Smith or something. (:

I am truly grateful that you have taken the time to listen. It means the world to me. Really.

Until later...

You give and take away

2008-02-12T18:04:00.000-06:00

This Sunday at church we sang this song. Many of you are familiar with it. It is the one that I literally choked on if we sang it while I was pregnant with Phoenix. But, for the last year, I've been able to get through it. However, this Sunday,it about did me in. My friend that I mentioned before who is carrying her precious little girl... she is around 38 weeks pregnant now... was standing just a few rows in front of me when they began singing this song. "Blessed be your name when the road's filled with suffering, though there's pain in the offering, blessed be your name. You give and take away, You give and take away, my heart will choose to say, Lord blessed be your name." Once again, I choked on the words. I know, like me, my friend has chosen to continue praising God in the middle of her most desperate time and she was singing the song with all of her heart. But, I have not been given the strength right now and I am not able to bear the thought again. A precious amazing baby, that she might have to say goodbye to. It is too much.

God really is amazing. I had the strength for the road I was on (for that matter, the one I am on today.), but I don't have the strength for someone else's road. I am not handling it well. I was reading some web sites of some other precious babies that I know whose parents have decided to blog about them. Babies with Trisomy 18 that they have lost. Wow. I really just couldn't take it. I cried and cried. My son kept saying, "Mom, just click on the little red dot up there and stop reading!" I couldn't... I'm amazed that people read my story, it is so painful to imagine what these people have gone through. I look at Forest and I think, no way... no way, could a loving God ask us to give up a child.

Yet, I know, He did it first. How? How did he? How can any of us? I don't know. I did it, and I still don't know. I look back and I don't know how I am here today, and doing anything more than just "surviving". Thanks for going there with me. It has been and still is healing for me.

Not the end...

2008-02-11T20:50:00.000-06:00

No, August 9th was not the end. In so many ways. It was the beginning of Phoenix's precious eternal life in heaven... with my Grandmother and my 2 uncles and his 3 other brothers or sisters that we lost too early to know. It was the beginning of a family that never takes each other for granted again. It was the beginning of a new kind of life for me. The kind of life where you have one foot on earth and one foot in heaven. I love being here with my children and husband. Dearly love it! But, I also LONG for heaven. It is a very real aching in my heart. That ache reminds me where my true citizenship lies. Yes, I already "knew" that before. I grew up in a Baptist church. Of course I knew that. (: But, I did not understand. You can't really until someone you love so much... is there. Then you find yourself going to bed sometimes, wishing you could wake up in heaven. Not in a weird fatalistic way... I just would love to be there. I can't wait to be there and hold Phoenix in his little perfectly healed body. I truly miss him. Every day I miss him. Every day, I'm a little bit sad. Every day there is a hole in my heart. But it's OK. "Pain is God's megaphone to rouse a deaf and dying world". I have been roused... thank you Lord. Thank you.

August 9, 2005

2008-02-08T19:58:00.000-06:00

Well, I have delayed the inevitable for as long as possible. For a few days now, I've been reliving this date over and over, trying to figure out how I can tell you all about it without it being so painful, for me or for you (the reader). I came to the conclusion that I just have to tell it how it is (and was) and hope that you can handle it. If you can't, you probably stopped reading this blog long ago. (:

We were all sitting on the couch as a family, watching a movie. I don't recall which one. We've seen everything there is to see I think. I was thinking of how uncomfortable I was (as usual) and noticing that I was having a few contractions. I was only 30 weeks pregnant, so I was certainly hoping that it was nothing. My tummy was just like a huge balloon, blown up full of fluid. Sweet Phoenix was so little, but my tummy was HUGE. With all of that fluid, it was hard to tell when I was having a contraction. So, really, I had no warning. I walked down the hall to tuck the kids into bed. As I was standing in their doorway, opening a candy wrapper...

my water broke.

Uummm, what now?

I stood there shocked. Fluid just began to pour. I didn't move. I told Parker to get me some towels. He came back with a hand towel. (: Sweet boy. "No," I said, "I mean like 3 beach towels." So, he came back with them a couple of minutes later. My husband called my parents and I went to the shower. I rinsed off, threw a few things in a bag and off we went to the hospital. The kids were in my parents car and we were in a separate car.
By the time we got there, I was bleeding...alot. I pretty much lost it. The nurse got me in a wheelchair, took us into a room, and handed me a gown. I went to the rest room to change and at the sight of so much blood, I immediately began sobbing. My husband was on the other side of the door, saying "please, don't cry."
I know he wanted to make it better. It couldn't be done.
I got into the bed and they hooked me up to the monitor.

No heartbeat.

My sweet boy was already gone.

Well, it seems like that is the end of the story to me. He was gone. Just as if someone sucked the air right out of my lungs. How did they expect me to go on? Now, I had to labor all night and bleed, and know that my baby boy was gone. Unbelievable. Really, I remember thinking, I just can't do this, I just can't. I really can't. I would just look at people, thinking, they really don't think I can do this do they???

It turns out, I had a placental abruption. Apparently from all of the fluid going out so quickly. That was the cause of all the bleeding. It also made labor pretty brutal. The contractions were accompanied by some very sharp pains. Finally, a few hours later, they talked me into an epidural and I went to sleep. I definitely needed that.
I woke up much calmer and he was ready to be born. He was only 2 pounds and came quite easily. They cleaned him up and handed him to us. The minute the nurses saw him they let out an "ahh, so sweet". He was. So very sweet. So very cute. So very gone.
I held him and loved on him. The kids held him. My husband held him. They moved me to my own private corner room and let us have him for however long we wanted. Family came. They held him. We were all so quiet. It was strange. I held him as long as I could. Then it hit me. He wasn't there. I knew, he was with Jesus. I had to let them take him. I could be the only one to make the decision. No one would have made me. It was time. So, we called the nurse and told her we were ready. Well, I wasn't really ready.

I watched them bundle him up and walk away.
I laid there in my bed so helpless.
I would have jumped up and fought them and told them nevermind if I had been able. Instead I just laid there and started sobbing. My chest was heaving up and down and I was crying the hardest I had ever cried in my life. Amazingly enough, it was a silent cry excepting a few sighs and sniffs. It was contagious. It filled the room. It was too much to bear. If I had been one of the family members, I would have run! Far away. I mean it was just TOO much. I looked over at my husband and my sweet kids. They were in so much pain too. No one had anything to offer anyone. We were all suffering, alone. Just in the same room.

Later, when everyone had left...I decided I needed to go. If he was not there anymore, I had no reason to be. I wanted to be home. There was no comfort. Anywhere I went, I felt empty, lost and alone. Home didn't help. It was so wrong to come home without him. It was all so quick. How could he really be gone?

...kleenex break...

OK, I think I've pulled it together again. There really is no poetic way to tell about that day. It is only the facts of the day, and pain. That's it. Nothing else. I tell you that so you can know...I hit bottom. The calm happy person that many of you see DID hit bottom. Really, understanding that helps you to understand how BIG God is. Only HE could take a pain so huge and make it better. A wound so gaping wide and waiting to be infected with bitterness and anger...made better.

The day I arrived home was a blur. I went to bed. I spent most of my time on the couch or in bed. My constant companion was the kleenex box. My husband took care of details. He spoke with the funeral home, talked to our pastor, picked out his head stone...all kinds of things that I just couldn't do. I imagine he didn't really have the strength either... but he did it.
We went to the funeral home to discuss arrangements. They did his funeral and burial free of charge. The sweet man asked me if I had another outfit that I wanted to put on him or if I wanted to wash the one he had been in because it was soiled. Sounds strange I know, but I wanted to wash it. It was the one and only thing I could do for my boy. I washed that little outfit at least 3 times. I cried and washed it, and held it. WOW. What a blessing. I got to do his laundry. You really can't understand I'm sure, but it was such a blessing to me. I have a new perspective on laundry. If I have laundry to do, that means I have kids who are alive and well and out busily getting their clothes dirty. That IS GOOD.
If only I could KEEP doing Phoenix's laundry...

Snowy days...

2008-01-31T14:15:00.000-06:00

As I type, there are already 7 inches outside my door. There is a large ominous looking snow man in the back yard and alot of wet coats laying at my back door. What a fun day. The kids should be at their "homeschool enrichment" day but some brilliant people cancelled that due to the forecast last night. (: O, I guess that would be me (and Laura)!

We have already enjoyed some hot chocolate and I even got a nice hot shower. Yep, officially a good day. I wanted to type and let you know something that my sweet boy Phoenix has taught me. I remember a few years ago when my older two were so little...I used to get so mad (yes MAD) when my day didn't go just how I wanted it to go. I needed quiet time to myself and I wanted a hot shower without a crying baby interrupting. If you have little ones then you know those things are RARE. So, I spent alot of time being cranky.

Well, today, I finally hopped into the shower at around 11 a.m. (pretty good considering I didn't get one at all yesterday.) Anyway, I had the baby monitor sitting in the bathroom with me so I could hear if Forest started to wake up or cry. Well, of course, 2 minutes into my hot shower, Forest started crying. Crying hard, the kind you really can't block out or ignore. But, all of a sudden, I had a MAJOR de ja vu' experience. I remembered back to when that would happen with my older 2 and I remembered the intensely irritated emotion that would just flood me. Then, tears started to pour. How could I have been so upset that I had babies that needed me???? I don't know, but Phoenix taught me. He taught me that every second I get, even when they are crying and needing me when it is inconvenient is one to be celebrated. So, I hopped out of the shower and threw a towel around me and wore a big smile as I started to go get the poor thing... luckily daddy was nearby and I asked him to go check on him. I know that makes him as happy as it makes me now a days. NO... It was not worth losing my precious boy to learn that lesson, but, it is one more priceless thing that he has taught me.

Well, that's all. Just another day in the middle of sorrow and joy.

Continued

2008-01-23T20:55:00.000-06:00

Well, tonight is the night. I am going to attempt to pick up this story where I left off. The last thing I told you about was how emotionally drained I was to walk around knowing that I probably wouldn't get to take my sweet little boy Phoenix home from the hospital. I don't really know how to explain the limbo I was in. I was grieving, yet, I was preparing to grieve. I was up most nights for at least 2 hours. My friends would notice because I answered their e-mails at 2 or 3 in the morning. I'm sure that wasn't good.

I was trying to enjoy what time I had with him, even while he was in my tummy. Yet, I was having to talk with my husband about a birth plan and what measures we would allow the nurses and doctors to take once he was here. We had to talk about DNR orders and all kinds of other things that you should never be faced with concerning your children. We were in a strange place... why would you not allow them to do everything possible to save your child's life? Well, because we knew that no matter what they did... if God himself did not intervene and save this child's life, all they would be doing is AT BEST, prolonging the inevitable for just a very BRIEF time and at worst, stealing every single precious second that we might be able to hold him and kiss him and tell him we loved him. We wanted every second with him that we could get. I was really hoping to deliver him and hold him and tell everyone else to "get lost". Sorry... that doesn't sound very nice. Frankly, I was not in a state of mind to be nice to anyone. I was hurting and hurting very badly.

I sat down one night and typed up a "birth plan" and printed it out so we would be ready to take it with us when the time came. I think I was around 28 weeks pregnant at that point. Our plan was to only allow the things they could do while he was with us. Maybe some oxygen, maybe something to keep him comfortable. I probably couldn't hope to nurse him because, the reason the amniotic fluid was building up was because he wasn't swallowing it. I wanted to try, but I didn't have high hopes. It is by far the most painful thing I have ever written in my life. It forced me to think ahead to those moments... the ones that promised to be incredibly heart breaking. I didn't want to go there.

During each Dr.'s appt. I was measured. My fluid was building up quickly. There are many things that I didn't know much about. This exact scenario was new for the Dr. too. He had seen many things in his career and each one progresses differently. I wasn't sure about draining the fluid and neither was he. At 28 weeks, I measured where most people measure at 36 weeks pregnant. Not good. I knew I might have him a little early. However, the clock was ticking and my fluid was building faster every day. By 30 weeks, I measured full term. It was a very uncomfortable time.

During this time, I prayed for Phoenix daily and hoped that he could feel the love that I had for him. I hoped that he didn't feel any of the disappointment or desperation...just love.

A Heavy Heart

2008-01-17T18:51:00.000-06:00

Well, I am happy to report that I am still not sleeping through the night. (: This means, that I still get to look at Forest's precious face at least 3 times in the middle of the night. I will miss it when that changes. (But, I'm sure I'll enjoy dreaming about his sweet face instead.)

The last couple of weeks have been precious. But, I have to be honest... I have been weighed down with a heavy heart once again. I have hesitated to mention this because, I never want to tell someone else's story. So, I won't. But, I have to at least tell you briefly about a very close friend of mine who is walking down a very familiar road. Not long ago, around 20 weeks or so into her pregnancy, she received some very upsetting news about her baby. She has problems that will likely make it difficult for her to survive once born. (short of a miracle) I have loved being by her side through it all so far. It helps give even more meaning to Phoenix's precious short life. I am still loving it to tell you the truth.

However, I occasionally allow myself to actually feel the pain all over again for her and her husband and her family. It is so heavy on my heart, I almost can't breathe. I pray that she will get a miracle. Oh how I hope that she never has to feel what I felt. Here in our house, we are painfully aware of how rare miracles are and know that she might not get to come home with them. I feel the empty pit in my stomach all over again just thinking about it.

If you have a prayer list, please add my friend to it. I will not share names etc. so I won't be guilty of telling her story. She will tell it one day. I pray that it will be told with a different ending than mine.

In Pursuit of Sleep

2008-01-03T20:19:00.000-06:00

You might have noticed, if you are one of the few still reading this, that I haven't posted very much lately. I have had many incredible opportunities to think of Phoenix in the last 5 weeks. Many late night hours of feeding to stare at Forest and think of what his big brother would have been like. Interestingly enough, he looks so much like Phoenix did. It is like a little gift from God to us. However, stealing enough time to actually get on the computer and post something worth reading has been next to impossible. Forest still needs to nurse every few hours or so and therefore I am not sleeping much in one stretch. I am quite sure I never get through a full sleep cycle. I am left feeling like I am stretched very thin during the day. My thoughts are not coherent.

I want to continue the story of Phoenix where I left off. I feel badly for beginning such an involved story and then PAUSING indefinitely. I apologize. I promise as soon as I begin sleeping through the night a little, I will continue.

I can't begin to tell you how blessed we feel around here. The whole family is just aglow with grateful hearts. Not one single inconvenience of having a baby around has really proven to be an inconvenience to us. Others might think so, but we are celebrating it. Even big brother and sister are happy to hear his cries. We have virtually stopped our entire life and spent every moment tending to him and we love every second of it. We miss Phoenix and dearly wish we were chasing a 2 year old and holding Forest at the same time. We can't wait to tell him all about his big brother and how he changed us all forever. I hope you are all having a wonderful New Year so far and that you are getting more sleep than me.

Until later...

More of the Story...

2007-12-21T16:28:00.000-06:00

Forest Winston Cook. Born Nov. 29th 2007 at 5:03 p.m.
Wow. Where do I begin? I must begin with the faithfulness of God. In the midst of so many incredibly conflicting emotions, God has remained faithful, as always. I now understand that His faithfulness is not about my circumstances, but about His being there in my circumstances. The good and the bad. The story of Forest's birth has much to do with the story of Phoenix's birth. They are linked. The experience was amazing and difficult all at once. I apologize for the emotionally charged description but it can be no other way...

It started with fear as we headed to the hospital. The fear continued during labor with spurts of calm and peace that were certainly not explainable aside from the comforting presence of God. When Forest was finally born and I heard him cry I felt a flood of relief. However, that was fleeting.
He had the cord around his neck and was making a worrisome noise when he breathed. Worrisome enough for them to want to whisk him off to put him on an Oxygen monitor. If only they could have known what that did to this fragile mommy. I blinked back the tears and pleaded for my Dr. to convince them to bring him back to me. He left and said, "I'll see what I can do." Well, whatever he did it worked. I stayed awake that entire night and watched to see if he was indeed breathing. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. That made a total of about 48 hours straight without any sleep. You can imagine, I was delirious. The rest of our time in the hospital felt like it was full of HOURS of the nurses dragging him off for some test or other and me pleading with them to bring him back. I just wanted to grab him and run!!! The final morning his pediatrician showed up to do his circumcision and I cried as she left the room to do it. Then, I cried as soon as they brought him to me. Yes, I cried alot!

Believe it or not, the most emotional moment was still to come. I was having trouble believing that I would actually get to leave the hospital WITH him. The days at the hospital were spent holding my breath (or at least so to speak.)When they finally placed me in a wheel chair and set his little car seat in my lap...WOW. The flood of emotions that overcame me was almost embarassing. I still couldn't believe it. It was like God himself was handing him to us. The lump in my throat was gigantic and I was speechless. Could it be true? Could I really keep this little miracle? The tears just poured and poured. I tried to explain it to my husband but my chin just kept quivering when I would talk so I gave up. I'm sure he was terrified that I was going to be an absolute loony bird for the rest of our lives. You'll have to check in later to see if that happens or not. (:

Since we have been home I have only slept for about 2 hours at a time but have thoroughly enjoyed every second of my time with him. The first time I was finally alone with him (when the kids and my husband had retreated to the bedroom for a movie.) I was overcome with even more emotion. All of a sudden, I looked at Forest and saw Phoenix. I thought about how horrid it was to let them take him. How badly I wanted him back. Before I knew it, I was sobbing. Each time is healing, but oh, how real and painful that was. Like living it all over again. I know each milestone will be bittersweet. I will be celebrating Forest's life and wondering what it would be like to have Phoenix too. I know God is sovereign and was in complete control of the last few years of events because we allowed him to be. But, as a mother, I can't help but wish. Just wish I had him.

Yesterday, my daughter and I finally visited Phoenix's grave. I thought I would be fine but it was a little tougher than I thought. My sweet, wise girl asked me if we should come back when I wasn't so emotional. I assured her that I didn't think that day would come. I will always be full of emotion for Phoenix. So, we opened the door and walked slowly over to his beautifully engraved stone. It was paralyzing. I couldn't talk, I wanted to stay. I wanted to never leave. I wanted to tell him that I would never forget him. I wanted to hold him. I am full of love for him and it was all so very real once again. Anyway, as I type, I cry, yet again. Unbelievable. You would think there just wouldn't be any tears left. But, I assure you, they are in plentiful supply.
I am so glad though. With Forest's birth, comes a new layer of emotion for Phoenix. I had sadly managed to compartmentalize those feelings in 2 short years. I didn't want to but one must function. Right? When pain is too great, hide it. Right? No, that isn't healthy but it just wasn't going away and I didn't know what else to do with it. God knew it had to come out. I know he has many plans for Forest and one of those plans was to help his mommy deal with the pain of losing his big brother. I hope it is doing the same for the rest of the family. Hopefully, I will be able to post some more as I slowly get in to a routine. I have so much more to tell you about Phoenix....

So Thankful...

2007-12-04T21:02:00.000-06:00

Just a note from the home of an incredibly emotional, but mostly, incredibly thankful mommy. Forest and I have finally gotten home from the hospital and everyone is doing well. He was born at 5:03 p.m. C.S.T. on November 29th. He weighed 7 lbs. 11 oz. (Praise God) and was 19 1/2" long. Our hearts are FULL.

Thank you to everyone who was praying. It was felt every step of the way. We love you.
I promise to continue the story...when I am not a mumbling mess from lack of sleep.

Friends

2007-11-28T23:08:00.000-06:00

Once again I find myself thankful for all of the people God has put in our lives. I can't begin to count the amount of people in and out of town who have called, left messages, prayers, scripture, e-mails etc. today. I truly feel surrounded. I love you all and thank you so much for allowing God to use you as a means of encouragement to us. It has been amazing. We are very excited to watch God work tonight and tomorrow.

Here we go...

Anxiety

2007-11-27T21:35:00.000-06:00

Well, the next step in this story is to tell you about the day that Phoenix was born. However, I find myself on the eve of another birth and without the emotional strength to tell the story. I have nothing. In fact, I wonder how I will even make it through birth. The emotions are so overwhelming that I am afraid I will walk into the hospital tomorrow to be induced and just start bawling like a little baby right then and there. I feel incredibly vulnerable. Right now, I have become one of the cattle they are herding through the office and hospital. Everything looks fine and so there is not a soul who is slowing down long enough to speak gently and comfortingly to me. I hate that I need them to... but I do. I am terrified. I have never been terrified to give birth. Not even when we were going to have Phoenix did I have this kind of anxiety. I guess because I realized that I shouldn't hold out much hope. Now, I've had hope for this whole time and I guess that is what scares me. It scares me to hope. It scares me to believe that Forest will be fine and I will be fine because, what if...

I know that isn't at all how I SHOULD be thinking. I know that when I get off of this computer I am going to RUN to God and pray like a desperate woman. But, right now, right this moment, I am just not feeling brave. "Lord, I believe, HELP MY UNBELIEF!!!!!"

awkward moments...

2007-11-25T23:25:00.000-06:00

One of the inevitable things about being pregnant is the conversations you get to have with complete strangers. If anyone is given a few seconds with you... in a grocery line, on the elevator, at the bank...etc. then they will at least ask "When are you due?" or "Is it a boy or girl?"

Every single person that dares engage in a conversation like that is well meaning and usually loves the idea of having children. So, in my situation, I had to remember that. I usually just answered their questions and went on about my life. I had no desire to share a long drawn out story about my life with most strangers. However, sometimes, the dialogue kept going and often people would say something that required an explanation from me. You see, along with the other problems that Phoenix was having, he was unable to swallow. This meant that all of the amniotic fluid that my body was making, was building up inside the uterus with him. That made for a very rapidly growing tummy. I could have had it drained... but I was scared. I already had the amnio and I really didn't want them to do anything like that ever again. The risk of infection was there and I didn't want to lose him because of an infection. So, when I told people the due date and they looked at my stomach, they would always ask "is it twins???"

No, I would try to explain ...but then, they just felt terrible for even talking to me. It was awkward. To say the least. There are no real deep thoughts that I have on this, it is just one of the frustrating parts of my daily life that kept draining my emotions. That is the sad part. Although I didn't end up on medication, I WAS emotionally exhausted. I could barely handle life. My family and some of my closest friends, took the brunt of my pain. I would sometimes just be mad. Mad at everyone, the world. It was very hard to control. I wish it weren't that way, but it was. Most everyone was understanding... but it was still a bummer. I could tell I wasn't myself, but I couldn't do anything about it.

Unless you become like a little child

2007-11-25T03:43:00.001-06:00

The days passed slowly and our family began to settle into a new "normal." We had finally talked to the kids. That alone is worth a blog. (: I will just share enough to let you know what it was like. First of all, kids are very smart. They are very curious by nature and trying to gloss things over just doesn't really work. We tried to tell them that their brother was "sick". Well, that didn't really work since they thought he had a cold and we should pray for him to feel better...No big deal. Well, OK, not just "sick" but ..."really sick". Well, OK, "what do you mean, 'really sick'?" Oh my... this could go on all day. In the end, we decided it was better to tell them everything. Including the big words. They got an education and could better understand what their brother (and our family) was facing. You can imagine that from that moment on, our house was filled with some very sincere questions. We got to have many talks about what God can do and what God "does". How he is sovereign and if we were all getting every miracle we needed, then this place we are would be called... "Heaven". Jesus said, "In this world, you will have trials and tribulations, but do not fear, I have overcome the world." They were able to dig deeper into their faith than many are able to in an entire lifetime. Surprisingly enough, they were very at peace with it all. Mostly, they wanted to pray for a miracle. A child's faith is like no other. But we had to also prepare them for the fact that we might not get a miracle. We had to discuss how rare miracles are, and that is why they are called miracles. Inviting them to walk this road with us was the best thing we could have done. I am so glad that I had time to make peace with God first though. I was unprepared for how many questions they had and their need to talk about it ALL the time. There were days when I just didn't have it in me and my sweet husband would have to step in and save me from their questions. I would retreat somewhere and cry. I just didn't have all the answers. I guess that was good for them to see. It also took away the one place I could go where I felt like things were still normal. In the end, it was still the right thing to do. Just wasn't easy.

A hope deferred

2007-11-24T03:41:00.000-06:00

As I type tonight, it is snowing. Snow is beautiful, quiet, and fun when you get to play in it. But, tonight, I especially like this snow. The ONLY reason, is because of how badly my son Parker was wanting it. I watched him this evening, longingly looking out of the window, hoping it would snow any second. It took most of the evening and he finally went to bed just moments after the snow began to fall. I was happy, he was happy. I loved seeing his wishes and dreams come true, no matter how small. I am struck by how much the Father must want the same for me. He watches me all the time and knows exactly what my hopes and dreams are. He knew how badly I wanted another baby to add to our family. For some reason, still not completely known to me, He chose to allow this one dream to only be partially fulfilled. But, do we choose to argue or complain... or say "Thank-You". I know as a mother that the only reason I would ever allow my son to have his hopes dashed, is for reasons usually greater than he can comprehend. It's about the big picture, not that one single moment. So, I must trust that God, who knows abundantly more than me, has a plan. I must rest in it. He is sovereign, I am, well... helpless without Him.

A letter

2007-11-23T04:34:00.001-06:00

Along with the many cards that people sent, I had many a letter to read. Heartfelt, sorrow filled letters. Wow. Some who had walked this road... I had no idea. Many wanted to praise me and my husband for our strength. That was somehow the most comforting to me. If they could only know, know how incredibly "not strong" I felt. So, what they saw, make no mistake, was an amazing God carrying us. It was a confirmation to what I thought was happening, but didn't know for sure. God had sustained us every day so far. What an amazing thing. I was too overwhelmed to even know for sure. It was a fog. So to read that people saw strength... wow.

Another card that was sent said "Courage is fear that has said it's prayers." Yes, that's it.
My brother sent a letter that I read over and over again. I wanted to share it with you. It goes beyond Phoenix...

"I wanted to assuage your grief with nice images rendered by beautifully placed words and ideas. Unfortunately, I am too close. My words just won't come, and if they did , they would be painfully insufficient.

Did you ever notice that when you hear something that is not just true, but THE TRUTH, that it seldom feels like you are hearing it for the first time? From the moment we can comprehend language, The TRUTH sounds different to us. It feels more like remembering something than learning it. That is why words often times only limit Truth when it is shouted most loudly from a melody, a moment of silence, a sunrise, or a child who doesn't yet have words.

Among the really great writers and poets there is a sense that they are "finding" the poem, not "making it up" or "creating it" but "finding" it. They pull magic that was already there out from in between the cracks of life. They delve into our memories and hopes and find the eternity between the minutes and seconds by which we measure our lives.

It takes effort to find the poetry. The work can be dirty, bloody, and at times fruitless. There are a few things I have learned in searching though. One, you will find it long before you can put it into words, and the more you find, the harder it is to explain. Two, any fragment of the poetry you stumble across will change you, it always does. Three, find the poetry and inevitably, you will find the hand of God.

We count our lives away in minutes and seconds. We time our waking, eating, sleeping, and living. We schedule our love, our celebration, our fellowship. Every minute and second we schedule, track, and count down, we are aging, dying. The moments you discover the poetry though, are eternal, there are no minutes or seconds to them and there is no dying or aging...only pure life. These are those few moments in the tangible presence of God.

Most of us are rich in minutes and seconds, but poor in eternity. Rich in words, but lacking in poetry. Phoenix won't likely have the mass of minutes and seconds that the rest of us waste so much of. I know that any of us would give him some of ours if we could. But, even if we could give him eighty years full of minutes and seconds, we could not come close to the gift that he is giving us. You see every moment we have with him IS, and will be eternal. His coming shatters our clocks and schedules with breathtaking eternal moments whose beauty will for years to come shake our minutes and seconds with TRUTH and POETRY.

I don't expect any of us will be able to voice the poetry in this moment for years to come, especially not you. But, I can promise you it is there. Just remember, you can find it before you can explain it, it will change you, and in between these minutes and seconds that we rue, is the eternal hand of God, composing beauty we cannot now comprehend.

God smiles from ear to ear thinking of you. He laughs thinking of your brave ability to love and cherish life in the face of death. It rebukes the curse that affects the rest of the world, it is a resounding threat to the kingdom of darkness. Your attitude now is reminiscent of Christ's in Gethsemane when he said "not my will, but yours be done." The hope we carry in us says to the world, "Death, where is your sting? Grave, where is your victory?!" You truly carry around the death and resurrection of Christ within you.

I admire you. The magic of motherhood is a secret magic that I will never know anyway. The magic you are working now is a towering achievement even for motherhood. I can't write the poem yet, I doubt I will ever have the eloquence, but I can feel it and I know it is there. I love you."

A Poem

2007-11-23T04:27:00.000-06:00

This is a poem that was on the front of one of the cards I received. It says it so well...

"God has not promised
skies always blue,
flower-strewn pathways
all our lives through.
God has not promised sun without rain,
joy without sorrow,
peace without pain.

But God has promised
strength for the day,
rest for the labor,
light for the way,
Grace for the trials,
help from above,
unfailing sympathy,
undying love."

+Kristone+

Hmmm, I guess that's right isn't it? God hasn't promised those things? If I listened to the prevailing culture in many of our churches across America, I might forget that. Or, if I listened to many televangelists, I might forget that. Surely, if I send my check in, surely, I'll get the easy life...right? God is not a vending machine... He is almighty, all powerful, unchanging, and unfathomable in His ways. I cannot possibly comprehend His plan.

What does it mean to be grateful?

2007-11-22T18:39:00.000-06:00

First of all, I can tell you what it doesn't mean. It doesn't mean that there is no longer any pain. Often, I remember crying, in the shower or curled up in the bathroom floor and trying to verbalize what I was thankful for. Almost like a defiant chant so the world could hear that I wouldn't focus on all the bad. I am not an "overly" spiritual or religious person. I don't believe that the devil is hiding around every corner... but I do know that he would have delighted in my despair. So, I didn't want to show it to him. Or at least, if he must see it, I would show my grateful heart at the same time.
Being grateful, to me, was choosing to see what Phoenix had to offer to me and the rest of his family and the world while he was here. He was made for a purpose, no matter how long his life proved to be, so I was determined to be thankful for it. We had prayed for this little boy for 2 long years. He was an answer to prayer just in his very existence.
I became incredibly grateful for friends. Friends that were willing to just sit with me and enter the pain. I always thought that unless I had something healing to say, then I should not be involved in someone's trials. How wrong I was. There really isn't healing in the words. It is only in the being there. Now I know.
When I least expected it, one day, I pulled to the end of our drive way and got out of the van to get the mail. I was alone. I opened the mailbox and out spilled what looked like a hundred envelopes. At first, I thought, what did the mail man do wrong??? Then, as I picked them up, I realized they were all addressed to me. The overwhelming emotion that came over me is very difficult to describe. It was almost as if 100 people were all of a sudden standing before me saying... I'm so sorry. I almost fell over in the street. I managed to get to the van where I sat... right there in the driveway and read each card and cried for almost an hour. Some of my close friends and my dear sister in law had come up with the idea for a "card shower". It was perfect. I still have every single card and I will for the rest of my life. Those cards are more valuable to me than most things I own. They represent so many people and their love for our little boy. I read them every once in a while. There are a few that I would like to share with you. They are so profound and poetic. They should not be kept for just myself...

Decisions...

2007-11-22T01:58:00.000-06:00

One can only imagine that in a place like this (having a child that has a terminal diagnosis in utero) there are many decisions to be made. My first decision was to not accept the "terminal" part until God actually had Phoenix in His hands. For now, he was in our hands and I was determined to be his mommy as long as I could. No, abortion was not an option.
However, I have to say something controversial right now. I cannot blame any mother who has been in my shoes and decided to end her pregnancy. You see, I don't believe that their love for their child would have been any weaker than mine for Phoenix, but perhaps they did not know...did not know so many things. First, that it won't "take away" or "fix" the pain. Perhaps they did not know a Heavenly Father that could carry them through each day as I did. Perhaps everyone surrounding them told them it was the only way. I do not know, but I can only think that they did what they thought they had to do and I pray that one day they will have healing from the scar it might have left.
That being said, it wasn't an option for us. As I said before, I think too much. I knew that even though it would temporarily end a little uncertainty in my life, I couldn't possibly not give my little boy every fighting chance. I wanted to also give God the opportunity to heal him. If not a healing, I at least wanted God to have the opportunity to do what He was wanting to accomplish through this life that He had so graciously entrusted to our care.
The next decision I made was to have an ultra-sound done everytime I went to the Dr. Our Dr. was very gracious and gladly allowed this to me. Those days were some of the most magical of my life. They were the only chance I had to know my little boy alive. He would squirm and move and I would smile and cry.
Naturally, I guess you would think my next decision was concerning delivery, but it wasn't. Not yet. Delivery seemed like it might be the end, so I just couldn't think about that yet. However, my next decision proved to be critical. It has to do with a little booklet I had read a couple of years ago. Years, when I was entrenched in toddler hood and potty training and strong willed children. When I thought my life was so incredibly difficult and frustrating and draining. Oh, what I would pay to have those problems back. In those years, I stumbled onto a book called "The attitude of gratitude" by Nancy Leigh DeMoss. It is small and simple and to the point. I actually believe it is a literary version of many of the speeches my father gave me as a teenager. He would be glad to know that the words he spoke so many times had actually planted a seed in my heart and when I needed them, they were watered by this book. All of a sudden, what he had planted, sprung into action. This book, very matter of factly, lists what grateful people do for those around them and what ungrateful people do. I determined to become grateful. Even if it was only for little things.
So, now, at this moment in my life, when I faced the darkest path I had ever looked upon, I remembered that book. I chose to begin finding everything in the situation that I could possibly be thankful for. There were more than you would think.

A pause...

2007-11-22T01:45:00.000-06:00

Well, I wanted to take a brief pause to update everyone on Forest Winston Cook. We are one week away from induction and the Dr. says he weighs 7lbs. 14 oz. (I am only 37 weeks pregnant people.) UGH! This is one big boy. Of course, this weight is only a guess and it could be off by a pound or so. Yikes.
So, I am incredibly filled with joy to have seen him on the screen and look at every detail of his body and know that as of today he looks perfect. He even had chubby little cheeks that could be clearly seen. (: However, fear is mounting as we approach delivery. You see, I am having trouble visualizing actually leaving the hospital with my baby. When I had Rachel and Parker, I was completely innocent to the many problems that "could" have happened. Now, I seem to be able to list way too easily the things that "could" go wrong. I am praying almost moment by moment just to fight off these thoughts. I am resting in the hands of my Almighty Father and completely helpless to do anything but completely trust Him. So, if the thought crosses your mind, please pray. I would be extremely grateful. Inducing scares me, his size scares me, umbilical chords scare me, shoulder dystocia scares me... on and on. But, I know that I am in good hands with my Dr. and that God is right there with me to give me strength. So, I will try to just keep praying and trusting.

Where can I go when it hurts this bad??

2007-11-20T18:13:00.000-06:00

Pain is not a new experience in this world of ours. Plenty of people have gone before me on this road or at least this "kind" of road. But, when it is you experiencing the pain, it feels VERY, VERY lonely and it is easy to forget that you are not the only one. There are so many paths available on this road. I could look to sugar to fill my void. (I've done this before.) It doesn't work for very long. I could turn to alcohol (never done that but the idea sounded very interesting.) I could get a prescription... which they offered right away (at least something to help me sleep.) However, I have always been one to think a little too much on things and I could see the end result in these paths... Eventually, I would still have to face the pain. I knew my Heavenly Father loved me despite what I was experiencing and somehow I could feel that His heart was aching as badly as mine was. SO... I ran to Him and crumbled into His arms. DAILY. I somehow began to find books that people had written on pain and read every single one of them. I read "A Path Through Suffering" by Elisabeth Elliot, "The Problem of Pain" by C.S. Lewis, "Holding onto Hope" by Nancy Guthrie, and more recently I have read "God on Mute" by Pete Grieg. Each of these was relevant to my road and helped me see that there were others on the road. No one I knew had ever experienced this kind of thing except one acquaintance I had at church and her loss had been years ago. While she was incredibly sympathetic, I certainly didn't feel like she was on the road with me. It was so helpful that I found the Trisomy 18 Foundation on the web. These ladies were walking the exact same road as I was. Just in various stages. It was great to be able to read what they were saying. I didn't post very often, but I didn't feel quite so alone. It is a strange thing to be so surrounded by friends and family that love you and yet still be incredibly alone in your struggle. Everyone had an intense desire to comfort and help, but no one could REALLY understand.

In this day and age, when we don't like something, we fix it. When we are uncomfortable we do something about it, we don't like pain and we do everything to take it away. However, I simply had no way to take this pain away. It was a road I had to travel and it promised to be long and difficult. Somehow, slowly, I settled into this new reality. And, strangely enough, I found joy along the way. I will tell you more about that tomorrow.

Surreal life

2007-11-19T02:58:00.000-06:00

Those are the best words I know to describe the life I was living and preparing to live from now on. I really don't know what I expected when I finally found out the results of the amnio. The only really good thing is the realization of what a great doctor we had. He called us at home, gave us time to get the kids to the grandparents and then he actually came to our house to talk to us about what they found. I wanted to know... but I didn't want to know. I was so conflicted inwardly that I really didn't know what to think. So for the most part, I didn't. It seemed thinking was only an exercise in futility. Wrapping my head around this was impossible. Understanding it was impossible.

Well, the Dr. told us what we had expected. Our little boy...(by now we had named him)Phoenix Gabriel, had Trisomy 18. For anyone who doesn't know, a trisomy means that on one of the DNA, everything failed to separate correctly. When there are problems with the DNA, it means every single cell of their body is affected. It is not a small problem. Likely, you have only heard of Down's Syndrome. Down's Syndrome is Trisomy 21. It is the most survivable Trisomy but even then, many babies do not make it. The further up you move on the DNA ladder, the more severe the problems. So, Trisomy 18 is more severe than Trisomy 21. We had lots of questions for him so he stayed and answered them all for a long time. My emotions didn't do anything more than they had already done. I love that we have amazing technology in our day and age, and I love that we can do so many amazing things to save people... but in this case, all technology had done was give me information and then tell me there is no technology to fix it, no medicine to fix it, nothing they could do. Nothing. ((ugh))

Information is a strange thing. It can be very empowering but it can also steal your faith in God to do the impossible. I found myself believing the diagnosis above believing that God was capable of a miracle. Here in lies the struggle I faced for the next 10 weeks. I had many questions. In my head, I knew that God could do a miracle. In my head, I also knew that Phoenix was currently very sick and not likely to live for very long. One day, I would wake up with the strength to pray and believe and KNOW that Phoenix was getting better, somehow, miraculously. Another day, I would wake up with complete and utter despair hanging over my head. Why should I expect to have a miracle when I know that plenty of other deserving people out there didn't get theirs?? What about orphan children in other countries, or children who have no food, or the children who have been sold into prostitution? Don't they deserve a miracle? What about my 2 uncles that we just lost to Cancer? Didn't they deserve a miracle? YES, they all deserved a miracle, but for some unknown reason, they didn't get it. So, now, all of a sudden, God should part the heavens and provide a miracle for me? I found it hard to request. Yet, as a mother, giving up hope for your child seems unthinkable. I was drowning in my own thoughts.

Into the silence

2007-11-18T03:14:00.000-06:00

In case you have never had the need for an amniocentesis, I will tell you a little detail that I didn't know previously... the answers don't come quickly. The doctor told us it would be around 2 weeks before we would have any information from the amnio. We went home in shock. It had been a little less than 24 hours since our whole world was shaken to its core. Everything about this experience was contrary to what I had ever imagined for my life. I had always quietly told God that the one thing I really could NEVER handle was losing one of my children. Let anything else happen... anything. I was sure that I would simply wither away and die along with them. So, I began this day to day walk with the belief that if a miracle did not happen, I would probably die from heartache.
The house became a quiet peaceful place. Miraculously, I do not think the kids argued once for at least a year. My husband became very calm and steady (not that he wasn't already) and made sure there was very calm peaceful music playing almost 24 hours a day. I walked around as if in a dream. I talked with God and didn't quite know what to say. I had never needed a miracle quite this badly. If I really tried to talk about it with Him, the tears just started flowing. I decided that it was really all I could do was cry to God. There weren't any perfect flowery words that I could form. If there was a formula to pray for a miracle, I wasn't capable.
I just cried and He listened. I remember waking up every morning and trying to sort out whether I had just experienced a very realistic bad dream, or if I was living it. Of course, it usually hit like a ton of bricks very quickly and I would inwardly sink. Somehow, I would manage to drag myself and the HUGE lump in my throat out of bed. I managed to not cry in front of the kids yet. We still hadn't told them anything because we didn't quite know what to say. The happiness and innocence of their lives served as therapy for me. I liked to get lost in their world and pretend that everything was perfect and carefree. Because to them, at that moment, it was. So for 2 weeks, my life became silent. The whole world as I knew it had gone into waiting. Me, my husband, every relative and friend and acquaintance... even God... silent.

Take a deep breath

2007-11-14T01:41:00.000-06:00

Well, the next morning finally came. We tried to convince the kids..."sure, it's absolutely normal to have lots of 'extra sudden' appointments to check on the baby. (Right mom.) They were 8 and 5 by now and quite keen in their ability to notice something is not right. Still, we didn't want to explain anything until we knew what we were explaining. The amniocentesis itself was not QUITE as bad as I had imagined. I guess you can really imagine alot of crazy things if you let yourself. I did NOT look at the needle. I'm sure I would have at the very least broken into a cold sweat if I had done that. The Doctor said, "take a deep breath..." and next thing you know I was lying very STILL so that I didn't mess anything up. It was over with pretty quickly. But, I wanted to cry. It seems a little cruel to tell someone so many things that they never wanted to hear and then ask them to come in the next day and do a procedure they NEVER wanted to do. Double whammy. When I look back, those little 24 hours were so fast... I really didn't even know what hit me. I was sure it was at least a freight train, but who knew? It just went so fast. The doctor was able to answer alot of questions that we had managed to come up with over night. He mentioned that it was a very real possibility our baby had Trisomy 18. This is called "Edwards Syndrome". What is that? What does that mean? How does that happen? He patiently tried to answer it all while also explaining that he just didn't know for sure what was causing all of the problems until he had the results back from the amnio. I went home and looked up everything I could about Trisomy 18... It took many days for me to be willing to accept what I was reading. Even then, I couldn't accept it, but maybe at least comprehend it. These babies just do not live for very long. IF they survive until birth. What???????? Of course, everyone surrounded us in prayer. My parents came over and they prayed with my husband over the baby. Everyone wanted to keep saying that we would have a healing. I wanted to believe them. But, I knew that God had been involved from the minute this baby was conceived...He knit him together in my womb... he doesn't make mistakes...was it possible He knew that this is how he would be? None of it reconciled in my mind. My heart was strangely at peace but my mind was tired. I just kept taking a deep breath and trying to trust......

I remember...

2007-11-12T22:21:00.000-06:00

I remember the day that I found out we were finally going to have another baby. We had been trying for 2 years and then some...Now, finally, we were adding to the family. I was ecstatic. My husband was traveling but I couldn't wait to tell him. He answered the phone on the other end and I screamed the news in his ear. We were thrilled. Everything proceeded along as normal and we had all kinds of plans for this new one. His big brother and sister were already fighting over who would hold him first. At 20 weeks, we went in for the ultra-sound to find out if he was a boy or girl. We took the kids and waited impatiently in the waiting room. I climbed up on the cold table and watched the screen with excitement. I was a proud mommy and very happy. God had finally answered our prayer and it was a day to remember.

Slowly, the technician measured things and looked at the baby, and very quietly, got up and left the room. I looked at my husband and said, "how hard can it be? just tell us if he's a boy or a girl???" I was irritated. It seems like time started standing still right about then. Later, the doctor came in the room and asked the kids if they would like to go get some stickers from the front office ladies. I started to feel sick. Why did the technician leave? Why are they asking my kids to leave? Why is the doctor in here? Why, why,why??? Little did I know that this one word was going to summarize my entire life for at least another year. The doctor began to show us, on the ultra sound, all of the problems that the technician had identified with our sweet little boy. Fluid everywhere. On his lungs, on his brain, on his heart. Too much amniotic fluid. Bladder wasn't emptying. blah, blah, blah, it all faded into echoes in the room as I had as close to an out of body experience as I will probably ever have. Words wouldn't come... tears wouldn't come... I couldn't breathe. What was he trying to tell me?

Somehow I left the office knowing that I was to return early the next morning for an amniocentesis so they could make a definite diagnosis. I'm not sure how I knew that. It is all a blur. The rest of that day was made to be as normal as possible. We did not tell the kids anything as of yet, because we didn't know much. I found out that life could be lived from one second to the next. I could only think about the very thing I was doing that second or it became so overwhelming that I started to get weak in the knees. I remember speaking to my mother on the phone and telling her that "right now I am making spaghetti for my kids and I can handle that." "So, that is all I will think about." I really didn't talk to God about it yet. If it was true, I was mad and I really didn't want to talk to Him at that moment. But, surely there was some mistake. Still, I didn't sleep a wink that night. Even if nothing was wrong with my baby, they wanted to poke a huge needle into my stomach tomorrow morning and that did not make for sweet peaceful dreams...

A New Journey...

2007-11-11T23:16:00.000-06:00

I am beginning this blog so that I might tell the story of our family and our miraculous little boy named Phoenix Gabriel. I will attempt to do so as it comes to me as we lost him 2 years ago. I long to remember every day and detail so that I will never forget him. Ever.

The irony of it is that his little brother Forest is due to arrive any day now. I am so excited yet, so afraid. Not just to get him here safely, but afraid that with his arrival, I might somehow forget. I can't forget Phoenix... so, I will write about him. I hope that you will stay tuned.