When our Angels touch us

I had wrote on the Potter's Syndrome facebook page about my experience with with the glowing angel wings on Grace's windchimes. At one point, not to long ago, there was a discussion about receiving those "signs" and what mom's thought about them. So I shared mine.

A mommy responded to my post and said that she believed in angel signs and shared a few of her experiences with me. They are so amazing and beautiful, and the first one made me smile. I asked if I could share them. Here they are.

"I do... My son passed away nine years ago and there were many of times he made himself known. Here is one story that blew my mind away.

My daughter which was four at the time was playing with her play cell phone. I heard her talking in her room, so I walked in there and I asked her who she was talking to and she said Timothy (that is my son who passed) and I didnt think anything about it because she would talk to him all the time. About five minutes later she comes running out of her room and she was so mad she started yelling at me. I asked her what was wrong..and she goes "mom, why did you lie to me?" and I was like about what??? She goes "you told me that my cat went to raise a family that is why we dont have him anymore." (her cat died a year before that) she then goes to me...timothy just told me on the phone that he is in heaven with him. I had no idea what to say to her, i just sat there with my mouth wide open. Then I told my husband to get that phone and star 67 that number and tell his son to quit telling on mommy. But it blew me away.

Then about a year after that my husband was in a bad car accident and he wasn't wearing his seat belt, he should not be here. He said when his work truck was flying through the air ( he fell asleep at the wheel and hit an approach and flew 70 feet into the woods) he said he looked over in the other seat and seen our son sitting there and he was smiling. So my husband knew that he was going to be ok. All he got was a cat scratch on his head. The cops said that there is no way he should of walked out of there alive. The only thing left of his truck was the wheels, that was it. So, I really do believe they come in and check on us. They know how much we miss them. They will always be with us every step of the way until we have them in our arms again ♥"

Tara, your experiences are so touching.  It is comforting to know that our babies are near us. I hope this gives comfort to other moms who are also grieving their child. Thank you again for letting me share your words.

Signs

My last post, about my faith or lack of, was a difficult one to release. To admit to the world that I had a cold heart towards my God.  I do not hate Him, nor do I blame Him for the deaths of my babies. I have not stepped away completely. His fire in my heart is still there, but I am disappointed. I believed and trusted in the promise HE left us in His Word. I feel cheated and let down. I need to find a way to trust Him again. But I am not ready to take that first step yet. I do know that God knows my heart and the suffering I am struggling with. He knows I am not perfect. I am a just a mom, deeply mourning the presence of two lives in mine and doing so with a severely broken heart.  

The day I “blogged” about this, was part of two bad days I was having. If you've lost a child then you know what those days are. I was sad and angry and non-functioning and broken, but most of all empty.

I wrote the post in the evening. After school with the kids, dinner was over and everyone was off doing there own things and settling down for the night. I broke down and cried uncontrollably with each word I typed. It was very difficult to relive those moments, especially with Emma crying for Grace.  I was numb and again angry at God and missing Grace, but greatly missing the person and presence she would have in my life today.

Shortly after her death, I went to the Bible Book Store. I was looking for something, something comforting, maybe a book about how to deal with this grief.  I found an Angel Wind Chime and bought in Grace’s memory.  I hung it inside the house in front of my patio slider doors. Each time the breeze came through, or someone walked by them the chimes would make beautiful sounds. I always think of Grace with the little sounds from the chimes. They are Grace’s chimes.

It was late and time for bed. Emma came running in with arms up after brushing her teeth. I had just turned the computer off and scooped Miss Emma up. I carried her into the dining room to turn the last light off in the house. As the house turned completely dark, something glowing appeared near the patio door that I’ve never seen before. I stood staring at it and within moments realized that the wings on Grace’s chimes were glowing. Yes, like glow-in-the-dark paint. I stood staring at them, absorbing these perfect set of glowing wings in the middle of the darkness. Emma saw them too, and said “mommy, I didn’t know those glowed”.  I felt a rush of electricity flow through the core of my spirit. I walked up to the chimes and just stared at them glowing. I knew. I knew this was something. Something far beyond here, something spiritual was reaching out to me through an object that was very dear to me.

I have had these wind chimes for three years. I have stood in my dining room to shut the last light off for three years. I have never seen those wings glow before. I didn’t even know they had the ability to glow. One could say it was coincidence. But I know what I felt, and nothing worldly could create that stir in my spirit that I experienced when I saw it.

Is it God? Is He reaching out to me? Confirming His presence and love for me. Maybe it was Grace, letting me know in her sweet little way that she and her big brother Christian are ok.

With much love, Valerie

Grace

 Baby Grace

Entered the world crying and fighting

February 27, 2008

This is the "one second" captured when we all thought she would live.

Moments later when we were told she couldn't. Inga gently told us to talk to her

and tell her all the things we wanted her to hear.

Just removed the oxygen

Her last heartbeats

She is gone and joins her big brother Christian

Auntie Dottie saying goodbye

No mother ever wants her child to feel this much pain.

Drew never stopped touching her. He held on every moment he could.

Emma helping to dress her sister ever so gently

 Trying to say goodbye

My son Drew. He had such a hard time saying goodbye. How is it fair

for a child to endure so much pain at such a young age. He absorbed

every ounce possible of her precious being.

My girls holding hands

Josh and Grace

My beautiful angel

Grandma and Grace

Emma wanted a picture of her sleeping with her "sleeping" sister

Daddy and his girl

These are the moments that scarred our hearts and lives. When a person is broken from losing their child, it is far more than just words. We lived through horrible, unfathomable moments of heartache and pain.

There was a post I read recently about "screaming". Yep, I agree. So many times I want to SCREAM. I am NOT ok! I will NEVER heal! I AM broken and that is who I am now. I am angry that my children are not here with me. So don't expect anything from me. I can't recover from these moments I had to endure. period.

Questioning my faith

I believed in God. I believed with all my heart. Attended church, loved my Jesus, and loved to worship Him.

I was at my midwife’s office. In a half an hour appointment I went from being absolutely ecstatic to hear we were having a girl, to being completely devastated from also hearing the worst news possible, that once again I would lose another child to Potter’s.

The first thing I did when I left the office was to make some phone calls. I first called my family, and then the Pastor of our church. I knew I needed to pray for a miracle. I knew I was going to need my God to get me through this. My Pastor prayed for us over the phone and then over the course of the next few months, prayed several times with the church body. I stood before the church and had several people lay hands upon my baby Grace, safely tucked within me. We prayed for a healing. For His miraculous and divine intervention on my daughter’s broken body and bleak diagnosis. A man spoke in tongue and another older lady interpreted it. I wrote it down word for word and recited those words I believed came from Him, over and over, daily.

I prayed constantly, for the next six months. Baby Grace was part of many prayer chains throughout the United States.

I read my Bible, I read and re-read versus over and over that I felt were speaking to me.

I believed with all my heart, all my soul and completely with all my being that she would be healed (If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you).

I believed as much as that. I did. I came to a point of having so much faith and belief that I had NO DOUBT that sweet Grace would survive.  In my 9^th month, I was at the point of completely believing that she was healed and would live.

My midwife showed up at the house. She brought her oxygen tank to support Grace if it was necessary.  She entered the world, crying and breathing. Inga, my midwife said, she’s breathing, she’s supporting herself. My first thought was “of course she is”. She is because I prayed that she would survive this, and that she would be our miracle baby and I believed it with all my heart. I believed GOD’S promises.

I believed faithfully-  “Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours” and “I tell you the truth, my Father will give you whatever you ask in my name”

I stood on those promises… therefore I had no doubts. There is a picture that was taken seconds after Grace was born, my husband and I exchanged a look of pure joy when we knew or thought she was going to live. That “one second” was captured before our world collapsed again.

Grace did support herself but for just a little while. The lung capacity she had was not enough to sustain her. Even with the support of the oxygen, she was slowly leaving us.

This is where my faith started to unravel.

I had to say goodbye to another child. A beautiful baby girl wanted and loved by an entire family slipped away from us. 

I never blamed God. I was never angry at Him because she died. What angered me was that He asks us to trust and to believe, and I did. If He is really there and really listens then He knows I believed. But He instead let me endure another baby’s death.

Nobody has answers for me. Why do we pray? What’s the point? Why do we ask for things like He says we should… “Come to me little children”, but our prayers go unanswered.  Why did He promise us in His word, to believe, to pray and believe that we shall receive, if we don’t?

I didn’t want money. I didn’t want a huge house or a new car, never anything materialistic.  I simply wanted my baby to survive. To live a full and abundant life with her family. I didn’t and couldn't survive another child's death. But most especially, I didn’t want my 5 year old daughter to have to experience the death of her sister whom she wanted more than anything in the world.

Emma didn’t understand death. I was the one who had to tell her. To try and explain to her that her little sister that made her giggle everytime her movements were seen and felt through her mommy's tummy, at each hiccup, that the baby sister whom she loved so dearly and was waiting for wouldn’t breathe after birth. Her tears dropped me to my knees.  

When the funeral home came to take baby Grace away, Emma still didn’t understand that Grace was dead. She thought she was sleeping and laid next to her and said “Mommy take my picture, I’m sleeping with my sister”.  

We handed baby Grace to the “Men” and they carried her away from us.  My little Emma screamed and screamed and cried “Why are they taking my sister, mommy please don’t let them take my sister”.

Those are the moments through all of this that was the worst for me. It was devastating losing my baby girl. But watching my daughter Emma in so much pain was the worst.

Those words she screamed haunt me.

So, how could God allow His children to suffer, so. Yes, I understand things happen. Death happens. But, I went to my God, I begged Him to heal Grace and I had so much faith I believed He would.

I don’t have faith anymore. What am I supposed to believe in? I did once and where did it get me.

That’s where I am and it scares me because its against everything I believed in.

Alone in the storm....

My path.

I am lost.... somewhere in the middle of a storm. Just like this picture. My path just leads deeper into the storm. The storm is dark and lonely and filled with depression, stress, anxiety, strangers, numbness.... I am standing in the middle of this storm with empty arms, tears and heartache from missing two children, and also watching my living son struggle with depression and anger from his life battle with a rare disease. I am missing the opportunity of knowing my daughter Grace and my son Christian. I need to cuddle and kiss them. The love and ache for them has no where to touch ground and it builds up in me without an outlet. When you touch and kiss your children, your love reaches to them like a lightening bolt, it is a release of that incredible emotion you feel for them. I constantly touch my kids. Just a slight touch on the shoulder as I walk by is a connection with them, a confirmation that they are here, breathing, alive and my hand releases my love to them.

That touch for Christian and Grace is void. It has nothing to touch ground on. Instead that energy bounces around in my heart and soul and is breaking me apart. It suffocates me and makes each breath an effort and chore.

As I stand in this storm, I wonder when it will end. Will I stand here now for the rest of my life? Is this it for me? Each time I think I'm strong enough to take a step forward out, it also takes a step and follows me.

The storm feeds on me. Consuming my spirit, desire for life, happiness, my enjoyment for simple things that once brought me joy.... just to live life and feel free and happy. It has robbed me. Stolen my personality and character. My smile. My joy. My ability to function and share with others.

I look in the mirror and do not know this person any longer who looks back at me.

I also have lost my faith for God. I am desperate to get it back but I don't even know where to begin.

I will write more about my faith at another time. My children are ready for breakfast and to start school.

"We find a place for what we lose. Although we know that after such a loss the acute stage of mourning will subside, we also know that a part of us shall remain inconsolable and never find a substitute. No matter what may fill the gap, even if it is completely filled, it will nevertheless remain something changed forever..."

Sigmund Freud

me

"I miss the carefree and happy person I used to be, just as much as I miss my babies."

me, a mother to two greatly missed children.