Ready or not...

December 15th, 10 days away from Christmas. This season has been such a roller coaster ride for us. The more time passes, the more it sinks in that our tiny dancer is not here. I have found so many moments where I am just crying out, "It's not supposed to be this way. Lucy is supposed to be a part of all of this. From meltdowns in the middle of the ornaments at Hallmark, when I am buying a remembrance ornament instead of a chubby character reading baby's first christmas. The ache of empty arms in the Christmas photos. Or skipping the line for a visit with Santa because I see all these little baby girls, dolled up from head to toe in everything velvet, and poofy, and shiny. Then there I am, going through the motions and procastinating on the stockings, because I cant bear the sight of the empty pale pink one on the end.

So last night, we attended a support group. A room full of other families going through the exact same thing. We shared a meal together, participated in a candlelighting ceremony, and created a keepsake for our loved ones. We put messages in the keepsake for Lucy. What we miss, what we long to experience with her, what we'd want to say to her. There it was, in sparkly purple pen, glitz, and strips of paper, all of our aches and pains for Lucy. 

Later last night, I kept replaying the five candles and their meaning in my head. I cannot express how helpful these words were to me. How "ok" this evening made me feel. I want to share these words with you, with the hope and prayer that it will help you or that you may pass it on to others and be a light to them as well. I would add although, a sixth candle, one for our faith, because it is in God and God alone, that we get through any part of our journey, especially this period in our lives where we have leaned on Him the most.

As we light these five candles in honor of you, we light one for our grief, one for our courage, one for our memories, one for our love and one for our hope.

• This candle represents our grief. The pain of losing you is intense. It reminds us of the depth of our love for you.
• This candle represents our courage - to confront our sorrow, to comfort each other, to change our lives.
• This candle is in your memory - the times we laughed, the times we cried, the times we were angry, and the joy you gave us.
• This candle is the light of love. As we enter this holiday season, day by day we cherish the special place in our hearts that will always be reserved for you. We thank you for the gift your life brought to each of us.
• And this candle is for hope. It reminds us of love and memories of you that are ours forever. May the glow of the flame be our source of hopefulness.
  
  We love you, Lucy. We celebrate here on earth, His birth, you celebrate daily in His presence.

Blessings in Even the Sleepiest of Sleepless Nights

Last night, was a very dark night for Eric and I. I cant put into words how much we were longing for Lucy. There is this emptiness in our family. A hole that cannot be filled. I lay in our bed and tossed for several hours. My heart was racing and I couldnt even keep my eyes closed. I prayed and begged for sleep. I picked up my phone and read this morning's devotional. Now my prayers for sleep turned to prayers for song. This is the devotional that I read:

Choosing to sing in the Night.

God my Maker... gives the songs in the night.  Job 35:10

The Lord will command His loving kindness in the daytime;
And His song will be with me in the night.
A prayer to the God of my life.            Psalm 42:8

It is very late.
It is very dark.
It is very quiet.
So quiet that it seems all the world must be sleeping.
Suddenly a bird begins to sing.
How beautiful!
How clear!
... how strange.

Why is that bird singing, Lord? It is so dark. I doubt it is because of a full stomach, and the heavy thunderstorm we had this afternoon certainly didnt leave her a dry nest to warble about. Why? Why does she sing?

I qustion whether it could be for her benefit in any way. She doesnt even know anyone is listening. She's all by herself in the world out there. I cannot imagine that it is for a sense of "fulfillment"...  birds dont have that capacity, do they Lord?

And I am quite sure that it is NOT because she had a "good day". She has worked hard all day getting enough food. Her nest may have been destroyed in the storm; her tiny little ones may have been killed. All sorts of bad things... and yet she sings!

Is it to make the darkness beautiful?
Is she serenading her loved one?
Is it to declare her territorial boundaries?
Is it a source of comfort from You for those who might be listening?

Lord, regardless of her reason, that little bird is being used by You. She is glorifying You through her song.

I too, by Your grace, can choose to sing in the night, in the darkness, in the stillness, when I am all alone. Then others will say, "why is she singing? Its so dark!" And I can answer:

"My Maker gives me songs in the night."

Before He can give me a song in the night, I must experience the night.

Thank you, Lord, for Your perfect timing, for Your words and Your book that encourages us to live for Your glory. May I be a story of Your grace today, and let my light shine. I will sing my song for You in the darkest of dark nights. I love you, Lord. Amen.

  

Thinking of you, Lucy.

This is a repost, it is the video we played at Lucy's funeral in May. I listen to this song often and think of our tiny dancer. Love you, sweet Lucia Faith.

This Grief Journey Dance

After Lucy's passing, I have focused on (very) few things. Blogging, unfortunately, has not been one of them. We started this blog for our family and friends and those that Lucy's little life had touched, as a way to get information about Lucy quickly, and, well, without having to talk about it, because typing was much easier than trying to get the words out.

This blog has now turned into a place to update others on our healing and little snippets about the joy we are rebuilding in our lives. I think of Lucy constantly, and I think I could log on every day and make an entry in the blog that would say this:

Dear Lucy, my tiny dancer,

My heart is aching and I long to be with you again.

I still dont get why you aren't with us now, sweet girl.

I love you,

Mommy.

But it hurts too much, to write that, to think it, to say it. It hurts because it reminds me that Lucy is not here, as if we need that reminder, right? And it hurts, because I feel like I am running away from my healing, and taking back what I have already laid at God's feet. I immediately feel like I have taken ten leaps backwards, and any little progress is out the window. Earlier this week, I received a sweet pick-me-up note that simply said this:

The moment we can finally trade our "why" for a "Who," the rest of our journey changes.

I am SO ready for my journey to change!  I am so ready to give all of this to God and ready to stop letting my human self understand things that are bigger than I can comprehend. I am ready to stop running from my fears of losing another child, and ready to build myself up enough to continue adding to our family.

A perfectly-timed prayer from my daily devotional today:

Heavenly Father, I am ready to change my "why" for You. Lord, thank You than even when I run away, You pursue my heart and never let me go. Please continue to show me Your love today and every day. It is in Your Precious Name I pray, Amen.  

Proud Mommy Moments

So I have to brag on my Dominic for a bit. He is 8 years old and just such a special special kid! This summer he has attended a summer day camp and has had a blast every single day. This morning, they are headed to a local water park, full of fun and excitement, and lazy rivers, and dips and slides and tubes... and WATER! My Dominic can swim, but I would not say that he is the strongest swimmer. I was hesitant to let him go. Terrified that something was going to happen to him, all I could think was I cannot have something happen to another one of my babies! Again, letting this fear take over me.  We talked about how much he wanted to go, and the decision was made that he will participate. I put everything in God's hands and signed his permission slip.

On to my proud mommy moment:

This morning as I dropped him off, I got him all checked in, made sure he was set with his lunch, some spending money for a treat, towel, water bottle, sunscreen, water shoes, change of clothes, check, check, and double-triple check. I sat myself down on this blue stage, trying to mustered up the courage to leave. He was standing in front of me, and I asked him to pray with me. He took my hands in his, with his head bowed and his eyes closed, we prayed. In this room full of his peers, my baby boy and I prayed! I was so proud of this simple moment. We prayed for God to have his hands around him and all the campers. To be with the counselors as they took on this responsibility today with ALL of our babies. We prayed for everyone to have a joyous time, to remember to be respectful and mindful of eachother, and for them all to return home safely this afternoon. I looked at my baby boy for him to close our prayer, and he said, "Jesus, please let my mom have a good day today and not worry about me because YOU are with me right now, to protect me like You always do, and You are watching over me. Amen."

 "AMEN!"

Oh yeah, you know I was in tears when I walked out of there. The most important message for every day for every situation for every person out there. So simple, yet so complex! Today WILL be a blessed day! I love this boy! I love my handsome witty and smart little man! I love that he has come to know Christ Jesus at such an early age. I love that I am his mommy and I love how proud he makes me every moment of every day.

 Let's all remember Dommy's prayer this morning, wise beyond his 8 little years. Remember, whatever circumstances you are faced with, whatever season you are experiencing right now. Remember you dont have to worry because God is with you in your "water park" today and every day. Praying for a blessed day for each and every one of you!

Love,

me.

Miracles and Mishaps

So last Friday was Eric's birthday. It is still such a rough time to celebrate, but we made the best of the weekend ahead. We went to the cemetery to take some fresh flowers to Lucy's grave. We stop off for some beautiful yellow roses on our way there. We get there just as the grounds crew was laying Lucy's permanent marker. I dont even think I let Eric fully stop the car before I grabbed my camera phone and made a dash to see this. 

What a blessing it was for us to catch this moment. Her marker was not due to be finished until mid-August or September. And the families aren't contacted until days after the piece has been set. So we were so happy to have been there to see this. We stayed a while and watched the men work. They both were so kind and asked how Lucy passed. One of the men shared he had also lost a baby when his wife was six months pregnant, also due to the baby's heart. They told us they were sorry for our loss and then one of the men went back to their work truck and brought out some water to pour in Lucy's vase. He said, to help the flowers live a little longer. Oh, these hard working men with their hearts full of gold!

They left us there, at Lucy's grave, now adorned with her new marker. Eric and I stood silent for a bit and waited for the water on her marker to dry. I took a few more pictures and then we went back to the car to wait for it to dry completely to get a good photo. As we sat in the car, we were flipping through the pictures in the phone, holding back tears, this is just so painful still.

Eric looked a bit closer at one of the photos and found there was a typo!! The marker said MAR 19, 2011. Lucy passed on MAY 19, 2011. I ran back out to the marker to see if it was just a bad photo, but sure enough the marker read MAR. I frantically started flipping through old emails to find the draft that we were sent for approval. There it was, plain as day MAR 19, 2011. How did we do this? How did we not see the date was wrong? Sophie's birthday is in March, Lucy's birthday is in May! How did I sign something so important without noticing. I stared at the drafts for hours when they were first emailed to us.  It just didn't make any sense to me that this happened.

I was devastated. My heart hurt so badly. How could I let my tiny dancer down? This little thing I had to do for her, and I messed it up! Eric tried to comfort me, tried to console me and get me to calm down, but I was done. I was so completely done with this nightmare, and all of the bad news, and Lucy's heart being so sick, and done with losing my baby girl, and the heartache, and the pain, and the loss, and the emptiness. I was DONE. I want off of this ride, I want it to stop right now.

I kept thinking, there's a reason they say "set in stone". It's permanent. She's gone. It's done. This happened, and there is no turning back. Lucy is gone, the stone is wrong... and Lucy is gone. I think this is probably the most raw I have ever felt. The darkest ugliest truth of it... my baby was born, she defied all of these odds, and then just like that, she was gone. It's not supposed to happen this way.

This feeling that I failed my Lucy haunted me for the rest of the weekend. I just prayed and prayed for resolution so we could move forward again. I wanted to hide the error, I wanted to remove the stone and not let anyone see what I had done. But really, who would I be hiding this from? I sat there in prayer and thought of all the "typo's" I've made in my life. All the mistakes, the times I have strayed from God. All the moments I should have been living to honor Him more. Who am I hiding those things from? He sees it all, He knows it all. He loves me, still.  

He knew this moment was going to happen; Lucy was going to bless our lives for 19 minutes, she was then going to leave us, and we would have to pull through. He knew we were going to be emotionally devastated, and wanted us to lean on Him for support. He knew again the day I signed that draft, that I would need comfort on the day I realized my mistake. And he was there for me, strong and loving Father, who catches me when I fall.  

We decided immediately, either they will be able to fix the typo. Fill in the letter and recut. Or Lucy is getting a brand new marker. End of story.  We are still not at a place where we can sit back and laugh about the mistake, but we will get there. We are however, at a place where we know we can get through this and that Christ, our Father is with us every step of the way.

My prayer for you today is to go to Him with your "typo's", be open and honest with Him and put it out there for Him to see you are ready for His helping hands. Let Him show you to it and let Him carry you through it, and I pray that you will feel that lightened load when you no longer have it all on your shoulders alone. I pray all of this in His name, Amen.



Should read: MAY 19, 2011


for now, Lucy's marker reads:

Lucia Faith

MONTOYA

MAR 19, 2011

Lucy

Tiny Dancer

(set of babyfeet)

Two Months Later

my sweet Lucy

Two months ago, we were sitting in our hospital room, showering our baby girl with kisses and prayers. We were singing lullabies, and we read her first and last bedtime story. We were trying to take in every moment we had with her, trying to take mental pictures and memories of her tiny features, her scent, her sounds, we didnt want to miss a thing.

Now, two months later, as we are trying to still piece our lives back together, it is more and more evident that things will never be as they were. There is a part of our family that will be forever missing, a part of our family that lives now in heaven.

I find myself daydreaming about Lucy all the time. I wonder what she would be like now, maybe sleeping through the night by this time like her brother and sister did. I wonder if she would have milk allergies like Dominic, or be a big eater like her sister. Or if she would be responding to our voices and music like she did in the womb. I wonder if she would have filled in Sophie's hand me down onesies and if she'd allow me to put the hugest bows in her hair like her sister did. I imagine us taking her on our runs in the evening, or cuddling up and falling asleep on the couch. Or I picture her bassinet in my bedroom, where I would wait up to feed her again. I dream about rocking her to sleep in the nursery, and having to sit a certain way so it doesnt creak and wake her like I used to with Sophie. I can sit all day and dream and dream about all that never came to be.

I can easily see how these thoughts could consume me, and sometimes they do. I miss her so much. I miss everything about her. And we are trying, collectively, our family is trying to get through the days... with medication, and prayer, and counseling and support groups, and family, and friends, and more prayer, and we try so hard! I try so very hard but the pain is, well its indescribable. The emptiness, the feeling of just being out of place, like the whole world is carrying on in this dance, but I am just always a couple beats off.

But then there are the other times, that I am just at peace in my memories of Lucy. For the teeny tiny bit that I got to be Lucy's mommy here on earth, that gives me so much to look forward to in heaven. I am so amazed how this little tiny baby impacted our lives and showed us so much about our faith and our Father. I have learned so much about myself and my Father through my suffering and loss. I am inspired, and so thirsty to learn more. I read early on in my pregnancy, when we first learned of Lucy's complications, a bible verse that has stuck with me for months and months.

"I have refined you, but not in the way silver is refined. But rather, I have refined you in the furnace of suffering." Isaiah 48:10

Please God, continue to work in me, refining me through this journey, and building me up again. It has only been two months into our journey, God, and I pray to honor You in my grief and that I can handle these days with grace and continue to grow closer to You.  I pray for healing, God, for myself and my family, now and the days to come. Amen.