Happy Birthday Asher!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASHER!!

Today, Asher turns 4 years old.  Asher is one of Vienne's very dear sweet friends.  

Asher was born in the bath tub at home, in Cannon Beach, just like Vienne.  His mama, Erin, and I have been "soul sister mamas" since the very beginning.  We share in the same passions for motherhood and natural living.  She has always been such a solid rock of a friend to me...and so has Asher been to Vienne.  Once they were old enough to play together, their friendship was immediate.  Erin and I always treasured letting Vienne and Asher play together because they are both sweet-natured, soft-hearted, sensitive, loving, sharing friends.  It was actually rare for us to have little friends that were as gentle spirited as our own daughter and so we treasured Asher's special friendship.  Watching these two play together was always so so sweet.  They always got along and always had so much fun together.  I remember, one time, we all went to dinner together and Vienne grabbed Asher's hand to run with him in the grass and Erin admitted that it was the first time that he let any other child hold his hand.  So tender.  So sweet.

Erin has shared with me many stories about how Asher has been affected by the loss of Vienne.  His intuitive sensitive sweet heart misses his dinosaur-loving friend.

(Vienne is 2 and Asher is 1 here.)

(We were visiting from Portland, to come play in the sand with our friends)

(helping push Asher on the swing)

(a video of them both calling for Gaia.  I LOVE their little voices)

(this was a few months later, at the end of the summer of 2010...another beach day in the sun)

(And, Asher was walking now!)

(it was a perfect warm sunny summer day on the beach...a rarity)

(a beautiful Mama and Son)

(such a cutie)

(she always loved digging her hands into the sand...she could play for hours)

(clothes eventually came off and I just let her enjoy)

(this is December of 2010, when Erin and Asher came to Portland to visit us for an afternoon)

(Asher was pretty excited about our ONE noise making toy that we owned!)

(oh my gosh, look at them!  Asher is so enthralled with V's computer and she is so patiently watching him play.)

(then we let the two of them watch some Christmas cartoons with snacks.  Always the sharer, Vienne let him have her special chair.)

(Another quick visit from Asher - the two of them sharing a snack at V's table)

(this is from another visit we made to their home in Seaside.  Now, sharing snacks at Asher's table)

(Asher is a great sharer too and he very generously let Vienne explore his new workbench that his dad had recently built for him.  Such a fun toy!)

(silly play with Uncle Adam!)

(this next slew of photos are from Asher's 2nd birthday party at Shortsands)

(workin' his new tool belt)

(some of the party gang)

(Asher's Grandpa Jeff and Mark)

(Asher and his Grandma Jean)

(men and their brew...that's what they do)

(Asher's daddy, Kyle, and Vienne)

(lil' stud)

(how handsome is he?!)

(running free on the beach)

(I LOVE LOVE this pic of V - such the tomboy here)

(getting wetter and wetter....splash splash splash.  You KNOW this girl loved her puddles!)

(Asher and Kyle)

(**Fave fave.  LOVE HER)

(Vienne and Erin, who is wearing newborn baby Elijah)

(After play on the beach, we went back to their home for snacks and hang out time)

(Vienne and Gaia were buds too)

(be still my broken heart)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASHER!

We love you so much.  Thank you for always being such a great friend to Vienne.  She loved you so.

We hope your day is extra special.  

Lessons learned

It's been difficult for me to work up the desire to write blog posts lately because I just don't really have much to say....Or I have too much to say and I don't know how to organize it all.  Over these past few weeks since Vienne's birthday, I have grown quiet...introspective, yet detached.  As I have said before, it is easier for me to stay this way - clenched up in a nicely controlled little ball.  But, remaining this way has not served me very well.  Internalizing my emotions has unfortunately led to some health issues that I have just been diagnosed with.  Celiac Disease.  Leaky Gut...to name a few.  As we all know, stress goes to the gut.  But, don't worry about me - I've got a treatment plan going.  I have been hit with so many tummy issues over my adult life that this is nothing new to me.  I almost expected to get sicker from my grief and my stress.

Anyway...back to the title of this post.  I have collected a few lessons over these months.  Small lessons for myself, as one who is grieving and bigger lessons for those who are close to someone who is grieving.

Overall, Mark and I have been VERY richly and, I believe, uniquely blessed by the abundant support that has been so generously offered to us, through this most unimaginable time.  Really.  Truly.  It is obvious just from the response people had to participating in Vienne's Birthday celebration.  HUGE.  Though, from what I have learned by other grieving parents (a new "club" that I am now unfortunately a part of), this kind of support that we have received is rare.  I don't know the "whys" and it doesn't really matter...but we are beyond grateful.  For you see, support and love is ALL that a grieving person needs.  I believe that is the big misunderstanding out there that those who shrink away refuse to grasp.

Sure, of course there have been those that have pulled away.  There have been some that, when seeing me in a store, pull a 180 and walk quickly away.  There have been some who try to be friendly to us, but at the same time refuse to acknowledge our lost daughter, or what we are going through...like a huge awkward elephant in the room.  These odd and sad circumstances have happened to us, but like I said, it is so rare....though, because they are so rare, they do still stick out like a sore thumb.  At the same time, I have learned to expect it.  I can't expect EVERYone to be amazing and supportive, now can I!  That would just be foolish.  ;)

Here are some lessons I have learned as one who grieves ~

~Don't be afraid to ask for support and love.  It sounds and feels desperate sometimes, but I have found that it greatly pays off to be open about my need for it.  When I encourage friends that their little notes of love and reminders that they're thinking of me is so HUGE and helpful, I know that encourages them to keep it up.
~Be gracious to those who don't know how to act.  I know, deep down, that those who are awkward with me are not trying to punish me.  I know they are sad for me.  And, I know that it will not encourage them to grow closer if I, in turn, punish them with guilt.
~There is a HUGE difference between gently encouraging people that their support is needed and begging for pity.  Begging for pity turns people away.  Begging for pity even turns me away.
~We have been turned off by counselors and mentors and such...who have not been down this path before.  We have learned that we would like to develop a relationship with another couple (perhaps older) who have lost a child  and are further down this path than we are.  A couple who can mentor us...who really understands.  I think an understanding heart far outweighs a "license" and a "title".


Here are some lessons that might help those who know someone else who is grieving ~

~Don't pull away.  Plain and simple.  Just don't.  It will be noticed and it will hurt that person who is already suffering the most pain imaginable.
~Acknowledge their pain and their lost loved one.  Ask them if they are comfortable talking about that loved one.  The biggest fear of a parent who has lost a child is that their child will be forgotten...while everybody else's children get to live on.
~Don't be afraid to cry in front of your grieving friend...even if they are not crying.  Your "tears are salve on our wound...your silence is salt." (Nicholas Wolterstorff)
~Please try to refrain from saying "I'm sorry, I haven't called but I don't know what to say" because what is really being heard is that your discomfort is more important to you than our pain.  I should clarify that we do understand that you don't know what do say and it is ok to admit that...but don't pull away because of that!
~KNOW that there is NOTHING right to say and once you get over that, if you want to be a real friend, then just BE.  Grieving parents don't need eloquent words...there is nothing that can be said to make it all right, ever.  But, you can offer love.  It's very simple and doesn't take much effort or thought.
~Here are some suggestions if you feel that you don't know what to do or say and have an inclination to pull away:  Text little messages like:  "I love you", "I am thinking of you today", "I am praying for you today", "You are heavy on my heart"...etc.  Things you could DO:  Drop off coffee; make a meal; bring over a potted plant; read their blog and let them know you are reading so that they know that you are there; send a card; send them a memory of their lost one in an email; ask if you could stop by to just give a hug.
~Reminders that they are not forgotten and that their loved one is not forgotten are the BIGGEST gifts that you can offer.  Seriously.
~Try to be sensitive about making statements like "it seems that you have finally reached some peace or healing".  If said in the wrong context, it makes us feel pressured.  Today, we might be acting well or normal.  But tomorrow could be another day.  We need to know that we are safe to fluctuate from day to day.  We need to know that there is not a time limit (even though our culture automatically and quietly puts one on us).  When we receive statements like that, all we hear is relief from that person...relief that we might be getting better and therefore might be less sad to be around.  So then we fear that our "sadness" is not tolerated the next time we feel it tomorrow.  As I have learned, this grief path is constantly 2 steps forward and 5 steps back.  If that makes any sense.  In general, it is just best to NOT assume anything, best to not surmise anything, or assess...or give advice.

I don't mean to be nagging or negative or accusing AT ALL.  My true aim is to just be helpful. If you have been reading my blog regularly, then you have been offered the opportunity to glimpse into this journey that we are on and I know that it has helped many in learning how to "act" around someone else who is grieving.  I am so thankful for that!  This was just a small list of detailed advice that might further help with others that you may know who suffer, as well.

I know how others might think...because I used to fall prey to those shameful thoughts, myself.  I didn't want to go there...I didn't want to ruin my happy day by taking a moment to check in on a grieving person.  I was selfish.  I made their pain and grief ALL ABOUT ME and my discomfort.  Absolutely irrefutably shameful.  :(

I believe that learning how to appropriately be a support to someone who is grieving is something that EVERYONE in our culture needs to learn.  It is so sad to realize how ignorant our culture really is to grief.  Have you ever pondered that?  This point was made so clearly to me when one of our pastors wrote this blog post about grief, as it relates to Good Friday.  It was so poignant and well thought out.  I could never put a finger on it until he bluntly pointed it out.  Our culture does not tolerate grief.  When you look at other cultures, though, you may witness how well grief is tolerated and supported and accepted.  In other cultures, they wail openly and publicly, they tear their clothes, they wear black for a certain length of time, they encourage and support the grieving...etc.  But we do not.  None of that would be tolerated here...it would be shunned.  In our culture, we are so fiercely afraid of death that we do not want to even acknowledge it.  We hear of a sad death and some think or say "oh, I can't even go there...please stop talking about that..."..."that is too much for me...that is too sad...I don't like to think about those kinds of things".  You know?  And, so the one who is grieving and already suffering the most pain ever imagined, is now ostracized because we remind people of death.  Sad, isn't it?
(Again, this is not necessarily too common for myself and Mark but it is VERY common for most of my grieving friends.)

So, why is it that our culture struggles to respond lovingly and appropriately to grief?  Author Lily Pincus wrote:
In our society people are full of admiration for the bereaved who keep "a stiff upper lip" and behave "maturely".  Even if this is not put into words, the implicit demand on people is not to let themselves go.  This may well collude with the mourner's own defenses and increase his denial of a need to grieve.

I must admit that I have very much experienced this.  I am "so strong".  So I better remain "strong" because that is, now, what is expected of me.

Anyway, I hope that these insights might be helpful.  I offer them in love and grace.  I hope it came off that way.  I am not asking for apologies or renewed attention, in the least...like I said, I feel that, overall, our support system is astounding!

Here is a picture of me and my Girl....just cuz I constantly constantly ache for and miss her so.  I miss these cuddles.  We have the same "unamused" smirks on our faces.  ;)

The Badges of Motherhood

Mother's Day:  Another first in this current onslaught of new hurdles to face.  I thought I was ok leading up to today...but I woke in a funk and I ate my breakfast, in tears.  It is a challenge to celebrate a day, receiving honor as a mother, when the one child who made me a mother is no longer here.

I find my mind at war, these days, when I am out in public.  I want the whole world to know that I am a mother of TWO...but in the same thought, I do not want to ruin anyone's day by telling my sad sad story.  If you are a mother, reflect on how proud you are of your children...how you want everyone to meet them, how much you cherish them standing by your side, proudly displaying your successful marks of motherhood.  I yearn for that so much.  In Vienne's absence, I feel crippled...yet, no one can see my disability.  I feel as if I have lost a limb - I limp and it is painful, though with passing time I get more and more used to the pain.  It never subsides, I just grow more numb and more used to living with it.  But, no one can see my missing limb.  Sometimes I want to scream "can't you see what I am missing??!!".  But, I don't.  Of course, I don't.

Mark and I have found ourselves at parks or random places in public and we meet another family with a young one (or a few), older than Ivy and we get the "Oh, just you wait..." comments.  They're meant well...that conversational banter.  But, Mark and I just want to vehemently respond with "oooh, just you wait"...for, we have done this before!

I know.  5 years is not that long of being a parent, in the grand scheme things.  But, in 5 short years I feel we have earned some of those rightful badges that make us feel like true parents.  You know...those parenting moments that truly make you feel as though you have rightfully earned the title of "Mom".

I have successfully (very successfully and quickly) potty-trained a child.
I have met the monster called "Chicken Pox" and won the battle with brisk ease.
I have survived those supposed "terrible twos AND threes"!...(which, of course, were a myth in our household, with Vienne!)
I have weaned a child from nursing...and from pacifiers.
I have transitioned a child from the crib to a big girl bed.
I have brushed out tangled knots of hair.
I have taught a child to floss and brush her teeth.
I have taught a child to swim.
I have taught a child about right and wrong, forgiveness, grace, patience, honesty, and love.
I have successfully helped my child to get past her nightmares.
I have slept in my child's bed or on her floor, to comfort and reassure her.
I have shared a pillow with my child and whispered and giggled with her, when she was supposed to be sleeping.
I have taught a child responsibility and how to care for her things.
I have taught a child how to clean sinks and windows, to dust, and to make her bed.
I have taught a child manners.
I have made chore charts.
I have gently and patiently eased my child out of her shy-ness.
I have taught a child about faith and introduced her to Jesus.
I have also put my breath into my child, in desperation to bring her own breath back...without success.  Something no mother should EVER have to do.

And, in turn, this amazing child taught me so much...making me into a better person, a better mom.
This child taught me how to have patience.
She taught to stop and really listen...to everything, even the small stuff...all the time.
She taught me that the aforementioned "small stuff" is the "big stuff" in her mind...and if I always wanted her to trust me with the "big stuff" when she was to get older, then I needed to start listening to everything, early on.
She taught me about extending grace to those who hurt or offend me.
She taught me to take everything to Jesus, with child-like faith.
She, in turn, taught me about forgiveness.
She taught me to enjoy and live in the moment.
She taught me how to be in tune to her emotional characteristics and, in turn, custom my parenting and disciplining to what was best for her...rather than what was ideal in my eyes.
She taught me to try and look on the bright side...for she never, not ever, looked on the dark side of things.
She taught me that relationships with people are one of the most valued treasures.
She taught me about imagination.
She taught me that being a mom was EVERYthing I was meant to be...and that this was the best, most rewarding job in the entire world.
She taught me that I was capable of a fierce, raw, instinctual, intense love that I had never experienced before I met her.
...And, she taught me so much more.

I have been a mother for 5+ years...even though, today it looks as if I've only been doing it for 16 months.  Over 5 years of parenting, I have changed and grown as a person, as a mother.  I have earned many merits in motherhood...and it is all in thanks to my Vienne Juliet, the one who first made me a mother...the one who no longer stands by my side, holding my hand, but who now lives with Jesus, and in my heart, in my memories.  Mother's Day will never be the same.  I will never be the same.  And, I guess that's just how it is now.

Surprisingly, I do not have many photo memories of my past Mother's Days with Vienne...but here are a few pics I have found from years past.

(Vienne at 2 years old - Mother's Day in a park.  Wish she was smiling, too.)

(oh that precious face)

(with her Aunt Kate)

(Vienne at 3 years old, making me mud soup for Mother's Day)

(then a torrential downpour ensued...and she danced in it.  Of course.)

(pure uninhibited joy)

(and she got soaked)

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Happy Mother's Day to my Mama - one of my best friends in the whole world.  My Mama taught me how to be a great Mom.  She taught me how to love my children selflessly.  She taught me to be open and honest with my children, while setting a good example.  She taught me how to aim to be their friend, as well as mother, just as she has been.  She has been my constant support and offered me unfailing love and compassion through this wretched journey of life that we are all, now, on.  I LOVE you, my Me-Ma, forever and always.

Happy Mother's Day to my little Sister, Kate - another of my best friends in this life.  Together, we have been through so much and our loyalty and commitment to each other has always been unwavering.  I have loved watching you become a beautiful loving mother and cherish that all 3 of us girls share in this fierce love for our children, for mothering.  Thank you for being such a committed available support to me, as well.  You are so treasured in my heart.