delighted to be » baby amelia

someone exceptional / december 19, 2012

[Days like these get me thinking that maybe, just maybe we’ll have more babies someday.]

We spent yesterday battling the bitter cold streets of San Francisco with my dear friend Liz and her son, who were visiting from a far off place. Liz and I became instant best friends when we moved here, and she helped me through the tender months surrounding Amelia’s birth and death. And then, as sudden as she came into my life and long before I was ready, she moved away. I cried for days on end, knowing I’d lost one the of the best friends I’d ever had.

Every once in a while someone exceptional comes into your life. Sometimes they stay forever and sometimes it’s just for a fleeting moment.

Lately most of these encounters have been just fleeting moments, but I’ve learned how much they change you. It’s incredible how much the worth of a soul is in the sight of God; that meek little me could be blessed and changed in such an infinite, divine way.

Maybe, just maybe there’s a light at the end of this dreary, dark tunnel of mourning and loss. Maybe, just maybe God’s got some big, grand plan I don’t know about. And maybe, just maybe, he’s going to keep using really cool people to help execute this said plan.

I sure hope I’m cool enough to return the favor.

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purer gold / december 17, 2012

Last Friday afternoon I sobbed uncontrollably in front of the computer screen. My heart was heavy and aching at the unfairness of it all.

But then I found light in this quote by Melvin J. Ballard. He says,

“We cannot always understand the plans of the Almighty, but I feel sure that He does all things well and that sometimes the thing that seems almost like a disaster is a blessing in disguise. The only thing that matters is that we keep the right attitude. It is only when we become bitter that we let it change our whole lives, but when we can keep our courage and keep our eyes upon the mark and still go on toward our destiny, that is what matters. All these trials become purifying influences in our lives and leave us purer gold by and by.”

How true this statement is! As a mother who’s recently lost her child (albeit in not as tragic of a way) I have a strong testimony that such a trial does leave us “purer gold by and by”. We are changed people; we truly become better people. Because without sorrow, there can’t be true joy.

I pretty much cried the rest of the afternoon, thinking of the (close to) thirty mamas (and dear daddies) whose child’s stocking will hang over their fireplace, serving as a constant reminder of what was lost. How, even with the light of the gospel of Jesus Christ, it will be such an empty and lonely Christmas season for those families. I thought of those empty rooms and those empty, cold beds that will never again feel the warmth and bright eyes of those children, parents, and teachers.

I cried and cried, and held Jack a little tighter. We prayed and snuggled and kissed together. And when Tyler walked safely through the door that evening, we all embraced in a deep hug and cried again together in our kitchen.

You just don’t know when your world might come crashing down on you. We learned that lesson all too many times this year. My heart is so heavy with grief and pain and anguish and fear. I hurt for those families. I hurt for those babies that, like Amelia, were lost and cannot be found. I hurt for those mamas that long to embrace their children once more before laying them in the cold, dry earth.

Just know, mamas, that you don’t grieve alone, and it gets better. Your baby is safe and she knows you love her and miss her. But as hard as it is to acknowledge, she really is happier in heaven. It’s bright and warm and full of all things good up there. She is busy busy busy contributing to that good. I know you long to see her beautiful smile, to run your fingers through her thin locks of hair once more. You will get the chance again, even if all this waiting is bittersweet.

One day soon, when this crazy world is full of just as much good as it has evil, all will be made right. Angels will surround us, and you and me will get to see our darling babies once more in the most joyful reunion.

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praise / december 11, 2012

amelia, as we sang christmas songs tonight i thought of you. and how maybe, just maybe, you’re singing them too. maybe you’re up there in heaven with all your angel friends, praising our lord and savior through song.

what’s christmas like up there? do you still sing about our savior’s birth? have you met him face to face?

…& p.s.: i hope you inherit an angelic voice, and not one from mama and daddy. we’re terrible singers.

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oh christmas tree / december 10, 2012

They’re right about that song, you know. Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year.

I’ve been in a chipper mood, dancing and loudly singing off-key to all fourteen Christmas songs they stream on Pandora (or so my husband says, but I really think there might be closer to thirty holiday songs total!)

This year was one of decisions. We’re in a house now (well, renting, but still! a house!) and a real tree was decided as one of those mandatory steps that “real” people do. It was on our list of things that grown-ups do. But after much discussing of pine needles and sap and spider infestations and who would water it (oh, the horrors!) we up and bought a balsam hill. Done and done, for now until we’re old and gray.

We’re in love. Our tree is decked out in the typical Jones-Ginos fashion, with mismatched ornaments dating back to 1986 (vintage is in, right?). And don’t tell my husband, but the led lights make that twinge of electricity-costs-a-lot guilt disappear, so this luscious lady can stay lit anytime I’m in need of extra Christmas spirit.

The holidays are this beautiful gift we’ve been given to remember our Savior and the blessings we have. You guys, REJOICE! We have so, so much to be thankful for! We count our blessings each and every day to be healthy and strong and capable.

But alas, amid that joy I’ve come to realize in the most horrible way that holiday seasons also unearth pain and loneliness hidden deep, deep inside.

And it so happens I’ve been thinking long and hard this Christmas season about Amelia.

They just don’t make gift guides for this sort of thing, for death and the like. Aside from the obvious “give her the gift of service! of love to others!” mushy gushy stuff (which is great! I’m working on it, people!), I decided to give her an ornament or two. And a stocking. I hope 3-month old Amelia would have liked the color pink.

Some people avoid hanging stockings for the dead. That’s cool. But to me, Amelia must have a stocking because she chose our family and is stuck with me as her mama for eternity. Her name will hang on our mantle for one month of every year. She deserves that much, at least. It downright sucks, though, to be honest. I catch her name in the corner of my eye too many times a day to keep my eyes adequately dry. But I think it’d be worse to not hang her stocking, because that little girl is a part of our forever family. And a (literal) gaping hole in our family stocking tree is not okay with me.

Amelia’s ornament is that pink origami bunny, to match a pink jellycat bunny we gave her when she was born. I never thought we’d have a “thing”, but apparently pink bunnies for Christmas remind me of her.

Our (new! real people!) brightly-lit tree is also bittersweet, filled with mismatched ornaments from years past. It’s fun to see how Tyler’s mama marked her ornaments with dates and names, like she knew we’d reminisce about them some day. Thanks for that, Connie. This year was especially tough, as we added more ornaments from the dead than we have for the living. THAT is not a fun realization to make, my friends.

But sadness & grouchiness & ebenezer scrooge-ness isn’t allowed when a Christmnas tree is up and shining brightly. And for that, GRATITUDE is the best, best gift. It really fixes everything to count your many blessings, naming them one by one. It really will surprise you what that Lord has done! Again and again, when my heart is full of longing and bitter sorrow and jealousy and envy of those who just don’t know, I am made whole again through gratitude, and counting those blessings one by one.

(We’re practicing gratitude this year by putting kind notes in one another’s stockings throughout the month. I encourage you to do the same! Our family will read them to one another on Christmas Eve.)

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