So Begins. . .Swimming Lessons

Gasping an important news flash: "Mom!!! I - o-beying Judy!"

Noodle Row

JD & the Board . . . [he's a fan]

And then. . .

when you are all done swimming. . .

you

hang

up

your

swim

trunks

the way that

makes

the most sense:

Written . . .

Your eyes saw my substance,

being yet unformed, and in Your book

they all were written,

the days fashioned for me,

when as yet there were none of them.

Psalm 139:16

Jacob Daniel, talking to God:

God, when You give us another baby, could You write it in Your book so we could have it for our whole life?

Cambria

Cambria has been comic relief, frustrating, comforting, my reminder that I'm still a mom, and best of all, her exploding vocabulary is extremely entertaining.

It's hilarious.

We can't figure out what her nationality is, but we love her accent.

"I huht-ah mine-self."

{Choosing her morning yogurt flavor} "Oh-ange Cweam."

{Looking for her purse with Uncle Caleb and Aunt Marlys. . . and then finding it in their SUV} "Praise the Lawd."

Feeling a bit left out of a cry session that JD and I were having on the kitchen floor: "Well, I'm sad too. {Insert huge eyes and dramatic hand-waving here} I'm sad because everyone has a baby and we don't."

Admiring truffles from Brooke: "Ohhhhhh. How kind of them. Troubles. I like troubles."



She apparantly has noticed that when someone is weeping, often the person comforting will firmly pat the mourner's back. I learned this first hand when I felt a sharp blow to my back while I was crying, accompanied by Cambria's crooning voice. . . "It's okaaay, Mommy {WHACK}, it's okaaaay. {WHACK}, it's okaaay. {WHACK}"



"How about we wake Gabe up? How about we just {dramatic hand-waving and breathing} go and wake him up? Wouldn't that be fun?"



And then the real pressing needs.



"Can I have a piece of gum?" 20 x per day


"Can I do PBS Kids?" 45 x per day


"Can we go to the fountain?" 100 x per day

It's good to be a mommy. Still.

Not Very Brave.

So many scary things we have to experience.

So many firsts.

We're gradually checking them off of our lists. . . some are way easier than we thought; other things are just gut-wrenching.

I typed "SIDS" into my search engine bar for the first time.

Daniel went back to work.

I went to the grocery store.

Daniel responded to his first peds call.

First trip to the park without my little man to keep me company while the kids played.

Daniel's first time back at the ER.

First time I was able to smile about something Gabe did without breaking down into tears.

First time we've been able to sleep through the night without waking up to check on the kids.

First time we've laughed together.

First time opening my little ring box and touching that little bit of hair.

First questions from the kids. . . Did it hurt for Gabe to die? Why did God want him in Heaven?


And then some things are second times.

Like. . .

a second visit to his little grave today.

Cambria, sitting in the grass, waving up at the sky: "Hi, Gabe! We love you! Mommy and Daddy are crying cuz they love you."

Jacob, frustrated that the rains had washed the ink off of the note he'd left for Gabe. . . painstakingly writing another: Gabe. . . the pictures erased. I love you. Jacob 5

Tears because we miss him so much.

Absolute certainty in eternity and knowing that he is walking with Jesus.

Ache because we can't hold him anymore or see his little face light up.

Joy because we knew him, held him, loved him.

So many emotions! So much joy. . . so much pain.

It is good to know a God who is greater than our emotions and greater than the small picture we have of life. There is a bigger plan than the one we see right now. We're hanging on to that.

to Gabe. . .from Mommy

Gabriel James! We love you so much!

Loved your three dimples; I was always worried that I wouldn't be able to tell you "no" when you used those dimples.

I never thought our time with you would be so short. I'm so glad we loved every minute.

I loved that you loved your daddy. You guys had a really cool bond, almost immediately. Your daddy tried so hard to keep you with us, even though we knew you were already in Heaven.

I loved that you loved your big brother. You thought you were a five year old in a three month old body because you wanted to do everything Jacob did. Nobody made you laugh as much as Jacob.

I loved that you loved Cambria. You two had lots of baths together; you would splash her like crazy and she would dribble water on your tummy. You and me and Cambria had lots of early morning snuggles together. She loved you too, Gabe.

You loved dinnertime, even though you couldn't eat. No being exiled to the living room for you! You wanted to be at the table with us.

How do I say goodbye to a little person that I poured my life into? You were such a joy, Gabe. I don't regret one minute of letting other things go to hold you.

Loved your chunky monkey legs. We called you that, me and Jacob: Chunky Monkey. And then we added to it, because you loved people so much - the "Social Chunky Monkey."

I loved your fuzzy head.

Glad I cut your hair.

Glad your daddy let you taste ice cream. (True Novak man you are, my Gabe.)

Glad I carried you everywhere I went.

Glad I have such a special last snuggle time with you to remember.

Glad your daddy kissed you one last time.

So glad we held you so tight for four months. You're the bomb, buddy. Let Jesus take care of you and sing praises to Him till we come to Heaven too. (Cuz we're coming!)

Love,

Mommy

to Gabe. . . from Daddy

Gabe will be missed.

Gabe, I will miss you.

What did the future hold?

That will be the hardest.

You would serve Christ here.

He did not need that so He just took you there.

Gabe, I will miss you.

I am glad I kissed you one last time.

Gabe, I will miss you.

You cannot come see me.

But we'll go see you.

Gabe, I will miss you.

Just here on earth.

You were so fun and happy.

I will miss you, Gabe,

Forever and till I come see you. . .

Love,

Your Dad (that misses you)

not alone

We could not

could not

could not

survive this without the love of our family - (if you've cried with us, you're family)

(I never realized how healing my chalkboard paint obsession would become. . . )

Still a Family

Tim & Lydia

They wept with us; they came; they watched our kids; they took pictures; they were getting married in three days. They postponed their honeymoon. They embody the word "selfless."

And we rejoice with them.

Rejoice that they have each other and that they can do life together.

Rejoice that God will use them in mighty ways.

Rejoice that they love each other so much.

{And I'm not gonna lie, can't wait to spend the 4th with them!}

~Photos from Jodie ~

Life - it's not good right now.

My last journal entry:

April 3 - 12:30am

We are: Livin' our love song

Daniel: at work - engine driver {happiness}

Me: decompressing

JD: out cold

Cambria: lightly sleeping, eagerly anticipating her early morning trip in here to snuggle with me

Gabe: probably feeling his tummy rumbling and will be waking up any minute

Life = it's good.


A few short weeks later, with my world crumbling and shaken, I look at the carefree joy of that entry and wonder how we could have been so - well, carefree.

Life is not good now. It is precious, though. It is precious in a way I never would have known without losing a child.

Life is not good now. It is a gift, though. It's a gift that I am cherishing and treasuring, clinging to, yet holding with open hands.

Life is not good now. It is fragile. It's frail. It's not guaranteed. It may be given for a moment, for a week, for a month, for four months.

Life isn't good right now. Life is sweet, though, and precious, a fragile gift.

Look Up

Jake and Loren had the sweet idea of giving Jacob and Cambria helium balloons at Gabe's graveside service; we loved the thought of including them and giving them something tangible to do.

What I didn't foresee was the way everyone's eyes left the tiny casket when the kids let the balloons go. . . and looked up.

Up.

Beyond the temporal. Beyond the grave. Beyond the pain and devastation of here.

Up.

Wouldn't Change Anything

Realizing this week that last year at this time I had just discovered that I was pregnant with Gabe. . .

and so I asked my heart - you didn't have him to hold then. . . do you just wish you could go back to pre-Gabe. . . before the pain. . . before the shattered heart. . . before the nightmare. . .?

I was overwhelmed at my whole being's response to my own question.

I'd love you all over again, little man, even if I had known it would only be four months.

for our little man. . .

. . . flags at MFD last week . . .

Glimpses

. . .of joy in the midst of this unbelievable pain.



The wedding of my little sister and her man ~ so happy for them.



Coming home from the wedding, scared to come into the house. . . around the corner, on the back porch, my chalkboard Welcome sign had been cleaned, erased, and and new words written:

You are loved

Hugs from our kids.

Knowing my man is holding me up and that our love is still so strong.

Incredible family.

dropping everything, weeping, praying, not leaving us alone

Amazing friends.

holding us up, driving through the night to be here with us

Unbelievable support from our community.

cleaning, food, mowing, laundry, flowers

The best church family ever.

making a slide show, beautiful funeral, cooking our meals, washing our feet

Though He brings grief, He will show compassion, so great is His unfailing love.

Lamentations 3:32

Gabe's List

Good job, buddy. Love, Mommy