Life is Hard

I finally ventured out of the house for the first time today. I ran into someone from church (something I have been trying to avoid by staying inside) who of course has to tell me how sorry they are for us. I wish there was another word to express sympathy to someone. Why does our sorrow make others feel sorry? It is just a very odd thing to me. There are others who say "I know just how you feel" which I might hate more than the general "I'm so sorry". I know what they mean, and I appreciate them trying to relate to me, but nobody but me on this whole earth knows just how I feel. And then there's the "I can only imagine..." which the social worker the military made us meet with likes to say. It wouldn't bother me if I hadn't learned in my therapy classes that it is a phrase appropriate to say when you are so far from being able to relate to the situation that you really have no other words to say. Then there are the people that attempt to offer hope by saying things like "you are so young, I am sure you will still be able to be parents." This only irritates me because it is like they are pretending that baby David doesn't exist. Sure he doesn't exist here, but we are still parents. I am a mom, and David is a dad. And our lives are forever changed because of it.

What I often appreciate the most is when people tell it like it is. We love the people who tell us it sucks or it's hard or it's just painful because that is how it is. I want to go into the card business and have cards that say "life is hard" or "well that really sucks" and nothing more. Of course we always appreciate a token of love and support, and have been so grateful for those in our life who have come forward to tell us how much they love us and let us know they are there for whatever we need.

Fortunately we aren't totally alone here. I don't know exactly how it works, but I know there was a man sent to be a Savior of the world, who not only chose to suffer for all the mistakes I would make, but all the heart brake and sorrow I would ever feel. What an amazing amount of love. And what an amazing amount of hope that offers to know that there is someone who really does know exactly how I feel because He experienced my exact feelings and He overcame it all.

I still don't know what the future holds, and every single day that is really really hard for me. There are moments when I feel so overcome with pain and sorrow that it seems there is no way out. But it is in those moments that I get to know Christ better and I know that is when miracles occur. Now I just have to find the patience to wait for them.

I found this picture a little bit ago. It is similar to a prayer that I pray every night for my baby.

And then a picture that has been one of my favorites for quite some time...

 

1 month old

My Baby,

Yesterday you would have been a full four weeks old. Sometimes it seems time has passed so slowly since I held you and prayed that Heavenly Father would tell you how much I love you. I still pray those same words every day, so I hope you are getting the message.

Things are different than I thought they would be. The people we expected to say things to us have not, and the people we didn't expect to say anything have said a lot...sometimes too much. It hurts us when people, especially those we considered to be friends, pretend like you were never here, like our lives weren't completely changed by your short life. We know what is real though, and we know we are still your parents even though you aren't with us right now. 

Things are still hard. Your dad and I miss you every single day. We have learned a lot from you too though. Some days are better than others, but in general our relationship is stronger, and we are better understanding what true love is; what Christlike love is.

There have been many quiet moments to ponder sacred things, and many new things have been learned. We are trying to trust in our Heavenly Father's plan for both you and for us; and we hope that you are doing all of the things that you were prepared for and designed to do. We can only imagine the amazing and special talents that you must have. Sometimes your dad is really sad that he wont get to see you grow up and play sports and maybe even join the military like him (which probably would have stressed me out). I told him that he got a star soldier in God's army instead. He likes to think of you like that.

I don't know right now if we will have other children or not, but even if we do you will always be our first and that special experience and memories will always be yours. You are what turned my heart into a mother's heart and taught me that my capacity to love is far beyond what I can comprehend. You are the one that helped me begin to see the sort of love that our Heavenly Father has and helped me better see how I can live up to my full potential as a divine daughter of God. And that means that you will always have a very special place in my heart.

We hope that no matter what you are doing that you are happy. And we hope that you know how much we love and miss you every single day. 

I love you forever. I like you for always. (And lucky for me) Forever and ever my baby you'll be.

Love,
Mom

Heaven is Real

Like I said before, lots of words will be said. I say them more for me than for anyone else, but I know that my family reads them as well. Talking about my little boy and our experience together is soothing to my soul. I don't mind if people think I share too much. I just know that it makes me heavy heart feel lighter for a moment, and I really need that right now.

I was given an article from lds.org about the prophet Joseph Smith and his sweet wife Emma. They lost 6 of their 11 children before they reached adulthood. And I know that I was given it to somehow prove to me that my life is not so hard, but like I have said before, everyone's trials are different no matter how similar they look, and it does not suit us well to prove to each other how much easier or harder our lives are compared to others. Unfortunately the article just made me have more fear about the possibility of having more children in the future than anything else. I think the timing for it may have just been off.

In spite of all of that, the article ended up leading me to something else that Joseph Smith had said. I have always felt a special love and connection with the prophet Joseph, and so even though the article about his life did not bring me comfort, his words did. At a funeral for the child of a close friend of his he said, "This world is a very wicked world; and it grows more wicked and corrupt...The Lord takes away many, even in their infancy, that they my escape the envy of man, and the sorrows and evils of this present world; they were too pure, too lovely to live on earth; therefore, if rightly considered, instead of mourning we have reason to rejoice as they are delivered from evil, and we soon shall have them again..."  Long before I knew little David would be coming to our family, I wondered how I would best protect my future children from the evils of this world. I wondered how I would teach them to know right when there is so much wrong. I thought about how I would keep them safe and warm, and I hoped more than anything that I would be a mother who would show her children the faith required to get them safely home to their Father in heaven again.

I wish that I had had the power to save my sweet baby. I wish that I could be cuddling with him and getting to know him now. But it is a comfort to know that my most important job as a mother, to get my children back to their Heavenly Father, is already done. My child's crown is sure, and he is eternally with God, never to be removed from His presence. How blessed a mother am I, to have a child so pure and so lovely.

If I did not have hope of seeing my beautiful baby again, I might not find comfort in any of this, and I might let the grief my heart feels every day take over. I read these words shortly after the funeral for David III, also said by the prophet Joseph:  "The only difference between the old and the young dying is, one lives longer in heaven and eternal light and glory than the other, and is freed a little sooner from this miserable, wicked world. Notwithstanding all this glory, we for a moment lose sight of it, and mourn the loss, but we do not mourn as those without hope. A question may be asked-Will mothers have their children in eternity? Yes! Yes! Mothers, you shall have your children; for they shall have eternal life, for their debt is paid."

How thankful I am that the debt has been paid for all of us by a loving Savior. And even though the pain is great, I am thankful that my child has been able to escape the trials of this world and receive his eternal crowning glory.  And I am especially thankful for the sealing covenant bestowed upon David and I to ensure that our children are eternally and forever ours.

I do not think I realized on this day a couple years ago now, how very much those sacred, special covenants would mean to us. But I am so thankful for the miracles in our life that led us to this happy day, and the miracles in our life that have transpired since, including the birth of our perfect tiny baby. Heaven is real. And we intend to be there someday with our entire forever family.

Where Heroes Rest

 Did I tell you our baby is with Heroes? When he was born in Virginia, far away from our family and friends it was stressful for us to find a place for him to be laid to rest. I do not want to be in Virginia forever (something we figured out shortly after being here) and I had a lot of anxiety about placing my baby somewhere here when I would not be here for very long. Originally I was thinking Arlington National Cemetery would be a great place and I figured it would be a place that family would visit if they were ever in town to tour DC. Shortly after I had set my mind on this, several factors presented themselves to us and we ultimately decided on Quantico National Cemetery.

My Navy husband likes to joke that it is perfectly fitting for him to be at the Marine Base because his son probably would have joined the Marine Corps just to spite him, kind of like he joined the Navy to spite his dad a little bit. They finally placed his headstone yesterday, so we went to go see it this afternoon.  Quantico is just like Arlington in that all the headstones are the same size and have similar information. We got to pick the symbol at the top of it off of a list that basically gave one option for each religion. The "Mormon" option was Angel Moroni, and I think it is perfect for so many reasons. Then we got to pick a short phrase for the bottom.  I brought flowers but I hadn't cut the stems short enough for the plastic vases they provide. Luckily there was a kind old gentleman there who whipped out his pocket knife and helped this sad momma out.

Baby David's grave is right next to a World War II hero, born around the same time as my Grandpa. David calls those who served in World War II "the greatest generation", and the "worlds greatest heroes". It is an honor to have our son next to him, and somehow comforting, like this old gentleman is protecting him. Maybe they even know each other now. I know this sounds very odd, and probably not okay for most of you, but the perfectly drawn rows of white headstones and proud American flags are truly beautiful, and so sacred. It is very obvious that those are hallowed grounds. I am thankful for the quiet time I had to reflect on the eternities and think of a time when I can hold my little boy again. I love you forever little one.

David Lee Wallace III

Lots of words have been said prior to this post and lots of words will be said after, but this one is just about my sweet baby boy, named after his daddy and grandpa, David Lee Wallace III or Little D3 as we sometimes call him.  I just want to honor his life, no matter how short it was. These are special thoughts and moments for me, so I understand if many of you don't make it to the end.

 Early on I knew there was something very special about him. I remember telling David that something felt different. He asked me how I knew that since I had never done this before and I told him I didn't know how I knew, I just knew. And despite my overly anxious personality, I felt calm. David was extremely excited and wanted to start buying anything and everything right away. I told him to wait, just in case we wouldn't need it. He thought I was remembering our miscarriage the previous year and the year of painful testing and fertility medication that followed it. And part of me was remembering that, but part of me still felt different. My sweet husband assured me everything would be okay, and continued to tell me that after we were told our precious baby would only survive if a miracle occurred. I believe in miracles, those spoken of in the bible and those that occur every day in modern times. And we prayed for a miracle all day every day for 5 weeks after we were told the sad news. If you asked me a few weeks ago, I would have told you that we didn't get to see a miracle. But now I know that a miracle occurred, in fact several even, they just weren't the ones that I was hoping to see.

The fact that my sweet little guy lived 5 weeks longer than all of the doctors thought possible is amazing. Over those 5 weeks as I prayed fervently for hours a day and studied scriptures and conference talks looking for answers and comfort, I was assured several times that everything, as my husband said, would be okay.  And many times I felt like it was my special child telling me that. I never felt like he would survive. And there was a lot of sadness experienced. But there were also moments of peace when my spirit remembered its purpose here, and I understood the atonement better than I ever have. And while I felt my little boy wouldn't survive, I knew that because of Christ, he would live. And for the first time in my life I understood perfectly what living through Christ means. Looking back on it, even now, I do not have the same clarity that I had in those quiet moments alone in my room with my kicking baby and a very humble heart.

The day we found out his heart had stopped beating, my heart was so broken I hoped it would stop too. But there was also an odd sense of peace. We cried. And David's heart broke more when he found out the baby was a boy (they could never see on ultrasound due to the fact that my water had broken so early), but thankfully, or perhaps miraculously, my whole family was visiting from California at the time and was able to meet us at the hospital. And luckily, or again perhaps miraculously, less than three hours after being induced, baby D3 was born, and I got to go home the same night to be with my family and sleep in my husbands arms.

When the doctor placed my baby in my arms, I knew he was ours. Not just because he looked exactly like his dad did when he was a baby, but because I felt my spirit connect to his, even though I knew it was no longer there. I think this is the gift he wanted to leave with me. For me to not have doubt that he was meant to be part of our family, and for us to have the extra time to get to know each other before this portion of his life ended. In that short time I was able to hold him and look at his beautiful sweet face, I felt love like I have never experienced and did not know I was even capable of feeling. And that made the pain in my heart even more intense.

Over the next few days I cried most of the time. In a rare moment of being alone I prayed to know why this had happened when I had tried so hard over the past year through our trials to be as perfect as possible and remain strong and faithful. And the answer I got was quite clear, "I love you, but this isn't about you, it is about him". I am still not sure exactly what that means for my little boy, but I understood that Heavenly Father's plans for my baby were greater than my plans for him. And it sounds silly, but for a mom that is a little bit hard to swallow that anyone would know what is best for my child more than me, even if that someone is God. But it was also a comfort and helped relieve some of the guilt I had been feeling about my broken body causing this to happen.

I would like to say that the inspiration and comfort from my Heavenly Father made the pain of burying  my first and only child a little less, but it didn't. I wish I could say that it made it easier or that it made my broken heart heal faster, but none of that occurred. I still cry...a lot. I still wonder why us and not others. I still feel angry sometimes, and I still feel bitter toward those who call our baby a miscarriage or simply tell us we can just try again as if our baby didn't matter, or as if it was so simple to conceive him in the first place. I still cry and suppress jealous feelings when ALL of my friends talk about their babies or upcoming births. But through all of the tears and all of the pain and heartache, peace has always been offered when I asked for it. The sorrow hasn't decreased but the anxiety always melts away and hope is introduced to my heart. Hope, I have learned, is one of the most amazing parts of the atonement of Christ. Without Him, we have none, and really no reason to be here at all.

I have struggled with knowing whether or not we will get to see our little boy again, but I can't imagine being happy throughout eternity without him, and I believe that our Heavenly Father's eternal plan for his children is one of happiness. I haven't spent a ton of time reflecting on the day David and I got sealed, but over the past few weeks I have had a lot of time to think about that amazing day we spent in such a beautiful place promising our love and commitment to each other and God forever. I remember looking in the mirrors and seeing ourselves forever, and I know that our special perfect baby is part of that forever scene.

I still don't understand why this happened, and perhaps I never will.  Unlike those who keep telling us this happened to make us better people, I think this was more about what was best for our little boy than what was best for us. And even though the pain is excruciating, I have only wanted what was best for him since the moment I found out he was coming to our family; and I am very happy that he will forever have the very best. I don't know if or when joy will return to my life, or if this is all there is for us. And even though I wish more than anything that it was longer, I am thankful for the time that I/we got to spend with little David, and I am very thankful that we are his mom and dad forever. Forever is a long time, and I wouldn't have it any other way because sometimes it seems that will just not be enough. I look forward to a day when my little one will live, and I can embrace him, and know him, and tell him how very much I love him and his amazing spirit.

We love you baby D3. We will try hard to make you proud.

Broken

I thought I was heartbroken when I experienced a miscarriage last year. I thought the cracks would never heal when we struggled with infertility for a year after that and watched all of our friends have babies. I've watched people stand up in church and say how thankful they are that Heavenly Father trusted them enough to send his children to their home. I wondered what I had done to not receive that trust. I worked hard to be as perfect as I could. I did everything we are asked to do and more. I grew up often hearing the mantra, "when you choose the right you are happy, and when you choose the wrong you are sad". I told my mom that I thought Heavenly Father forgot about me because I was sure I was choosing the right and still did not receive the family that my spirit so desired. Then I found out I was pregnant again and when we made it past the point which we lost the baby last time, my mom said that proved that Heavenly Father had not forgotten me. And I was so happy and excited until week 19 when we learned our baby would not likely survive. They told us there was still a chance, and I had always believed in miracles so I prayed even more than I already had been. I prayed for a miracle and I prayed that if that was not possible that God would take me instead and spare the life of this precious child I had come to know and love.

And then that sweet tiny boy's heart stopped beating. And I wished that mine did too.

The doctor started my labor and asked David and me if we wanted to hold our son after he was delivered. I did, David didn't. I'm still not sure which was the better decision. When I held that tiny baby boy and looked into his perfect face with soft brown skin and goofy eyebrows and almond shaped eyes closed softly just like his daddy's, I felt love like ive never felt and pain I have never experienced. I knew he was part of us and i knew he was meant to be ours and I was so thankful for eternal families, that is, until I found out that eternal doesn't apply to stillborn children. And then the pain in my heart took over my spirit and enveloped my entire soul. Why had my parents not taught me that doing absolutely everything you can do to choose the right can actually bring you more pain and heartache than any sin or wrongdoing ever could? Why had they not told me that eternal families only include people who live long enough to be added to church records? And why are teenagers, drug addicts, abusers, and criminals entrusted with the care of Heavenly Fathers children and I am not? And why didn't my parents tell me that God's love was just like their love and sometimes there just isn't enough to go around? And now mom, how do you plan to prove that I am not forgotten?

I think I know how Adam and Eve felt in the garden now. To be given a commandment that is impossible to fulfill. God sure does have a sense of humor,but the mercy and love that is always being talked about just doesn't exist. At least not for me. 

And now all I am left with is constant reminders of a child who I love more than anything but I may never see again. And it brings pain that I can't see myself ever recovering from. An empty house, stretch marks on a now motherly body with no child to care for, the pains of labor still lingering, a new pointless future with nothing to look forward to, a purple box with tiny footprints, hat, and birth card in the drawer next to my bed, and a commandment never to be fulfilled. People keep telling me that it's just part of Heavenly Father's plan, as if that is helpful. What then is the point of prayer if He doesn't care about our hearts anyway? The plan is there and won't be changed. Do you think this is what they meant to say? Or how about the people who say that we are so lucky because now we can mourn with those who mourn and are in similar situations. Can't say that I feel anyone in this situation is ever lucky. And then there are those who say he was just too perfect to live here. But all I hear them say is we were not perfect enough.

And now I realize how alone we truly are, or maybe thats just me. No one understands my pain, or how it affects every aspect of my life. No one gets that my heart is not only broken for the beautiful boy I lost, but for the family I will now never have. And then there is the pain that comes from being forgotten by heaven and not even being provided access to someone who could understand the hurt and despair of a mothers heart as no one who is eternally a male ever could. Why had no one told me there are actually pains and heartache that even Jesus could not truly understand? While I have experienced on many occasions the healing power of the atonement and the comfort of Christ in my trials, this time felt different. This time I wished that there was access to a Heavenly Mother. But that has not been provided. And I will remain alone.

To those who have figured out what it takes to receive God's trust; learn how to keep it. Because the pain of not being able to have it no matter what you do is just not something you want to experience.

So Happy :)