Subject: Assumed

I'm going to be honest.

Not a day goes by that I don't ask why. And some days I stay there, soaking in the question and in the pain and start to feel very very sorry for myself. But some days, like today, I allow my mind to open up and wander heavenward. And I'm reminded that Titus is in a place of complete perfection. That he never had to worry with the things of this life and that he has reached the goal. And suddenly my longing turns from wanting him here with us, to wishing we were there with him. And that's the way it should be.

I've pondered how this post would go. I feel like I need to tell you all thank you because it's likely that if you're reading this, you've brought us before the Lord in prayer at some point in the last few months. It's said quite often, but truely, we could not be getting through our loss without you, your support and your prayer. We have been blessed by you. Please continue.

I'm starting to think that I could go on and on and on today. For your sake and mine I'll try to make this first post "back" managable. But I want to share with you a little of my journey.

I want to share with you because I don't want to forget. As we were driving back to Canyon after we found out we lost Titus I remember many many thoughts racing through my mind. One thought that I verbalized to Kent was that if we can't help someone else, if we can't encourage others some day who are in a similar situation or even just in pain, if we can't extract wisdom and knowledge of the nature of God from this experience, then it's all for nothing. And I'll tell you, that precious child was not all for nothing! We have learned the hard way to never never EVER compare your experience to anothers. Even if the same exact tragedy occured on the same exact day of the same exact year and you were wearing the same exact clothes. Noone is the same. The way we take in and interpret our pain is incredibly unique. However, after a while, it seems that the way we all should start to recover from loss and hurt should have a similar focus. A focus on things not of this world.

At the very beginning of March Kent started one of his Wednesday night classes with a question: Is it possible to always be joyful? At the time I thought, well, of course, we have better things to look forward to... yada yada yada. Little did I know that we were about to have a chance to cultivate an answer we were confident in. How is it that two of the strongest, most opposite emotions people feel can coexist? Joy and sorrow. I sit here and ponder that still. And all I can say is that when we first held Titus we were absolutely elated. Proud. Consumed. Awe struck. Everytime we'd call for the nurses the bring him in to us, we imagined being like any other parent that had just met their son. It's an experience that cannot be described in words. A miracle made by God. It's totally awesome. But ours was not the normal experience that parents have on the third floor at BSA. And that's where the sorrow enters. Deep, deep sorrow. I can't tell you the hurt. But always, always there with the hurt is the pride and the joy that we never knew until we met our Titus. Seriously, you think you're happy now, wait until you see your first child. It's crazy. And I still feel that way. Titus is in a much better place than we are, that fact and the fact that we got to be with him for a short time bring me the greatest joy I've ever known. But the fact that he is not here brings the greatest sorrow I've ever known. So, the answer to the question is yes. I think Helen Keller put it well: "What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us."

We are doing okay. Very busy, as usual. There are up days and down days. We are better for knowing Titus and knowing that he is hanging with Jesus. We talk about and to Titus often. We are getting used to our "new normal". And it's an interesting journey. Some days I talk to God and ask Him to take care of Titus, ask Him for guidance. But some days I don't understand how an all powerful God allows this kind of pain and it's hard to find words to talk to Him. A place we've all been, I'm sure. We imagine how it would be if he was here and we imagine what he's doing right now, cozied up in heaven's nursery. We are charter members of a group in Amarillo, M.E.N.D. (mommies enduring neonatal death) http://home.mend.org/ . We are proud parents and love to talk about our son. And, yes, we do plan for Titus to have brothers and sisters, Lord willing.

Okay, I apologize for the length of this post, and thank you if you're still reading. I want to share just one more thing that is therapeutic for me...

I don't know about you, but I love music. Sometimes I think some musicians are really just poets who had to get everyones attention by playing an instrument just so they can get the words across. Music, to me, is spiritual, meaning it taps into a part of me that's hard to get to, limited access. If there is any strong emotion, there is a song that relates. In my opinion. So I want to share a poem. :)

Held

Two months is too little

They let him go

They had no sudden healing

To think that providence

Would take a child from his mother

While she prays, is appalling

Who told us we'd be rescued

What has changed and

Why should we be saved from nightmares

We're asking why this happens to us

Who have died to live, it's unfair

This is what it means to be held

How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life

And you survive

This is what it is to be loved and to know

That the promise was when everything fell

We'd be held

This hand is bitterness

We want to taste it and

Let the hatred numb our sorrows

The wise hand opens slowly

To lilies of the valley and tomorrow

This is what it means to be held

How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life

And you survive

This is what it is to be loved and to know

That the promise was when everything fell

We'd be held

If hope is born of suffering

If this is only the beginning

Can we not wait, for one hour

Watching for our savior

This is what it means to be held

How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life

And you survive

This is what it is to be loved and to know

That the promise was when everything fell

We'd be held

A promise from God, by Natalie Grant.

Thanks for listening, I feel better. :)