Time Heals Wounds, Not Hunger

In the year since Jacob’s death, I have been offended on several occasions (and astounded on others) at the things that people have said to my wife and me regarding Jacob’s passing.  At the top of the list was a comment implying that our lives might be easier now that we no longer need to care for our son.  I’ve come to realize that most of these comments are well-meaning and that they stem from a lack of understanding.  Fortunately, most people haven’t experienced the death of their child and they lack the ability to accurately imagine what such a soul-wrenching experience might be like.

One of the biggest misconceptions that people seem to have is that our longing for our son will somehow dissipate with time.  Just a few short months after Jacob’s passing, most people seemed to believe that Jennifer and I should be “getting over it” and “moving on”.  I believe that this sentiment found its source in the old adage that “time heals all wounds”.  While it may be true that time heals wounds, it does little to help with hunger—and losing a child is more like a soul-gnawing hunger than a simple wound.

Don’t get me wrong.  There are aspects of losing a child that create deep wounds in your spirit.  Holding our son as he took his last breath, closing his casket, and burying him six days before Christmas was blunt-force trauma.  It created deep, horrible gnashes in my psyche—gaping wounds.  Those wounds have, to some degree, begun to heal over time.  The nightmares have become a little less constant and the anxiety attacks have become fewer and further between.

However, the insatiable longing to be with Jacob only seems to become more pronounced over time.  As with being denied food, it is difficult to think about anything else other than the emptiness he has left within me.  In the first few weeks after losing our sweet Jacob I was traumatized by the reality that he was gone.  Now, however, I am living that reality.  I am not just anticipating holidays and special days passing by without him—I am experiencing those days and every hour that passes by without him here. The hunger to hold him hasn’t lessened with time; if anything it has increased as the time since I last held him grows longer.  It is that hunger that makes it difficult to concentrate, difficult to sleep, and difficult to remember even simple things.

When Jennifer and I decided to create this journal, we did so for the purpose of ensuring that Jacob’s light would continue to be shared with the world even after he had left it.  He glowed so brightly and had so much to give; he was and is so much bigger than the short life that he lived. It seemed imperative that we record the lessons he had taught us so that we would never forget them.

Today, however, marks one year since I last squeezed Jacob’s little hand and listened to him breathe.  Today marks one year since his death, and today I am not feeling so strong.  Next week, I will try to once again focus on the insights and inspiration that God blessed us with through Jacob’s example.  But today, I hope that God and Jacob will forgive me for failing to focus on my blessings.  Today, I am just a father desperately missing my son.

I miss how excited he got about absolutely everything.

I miss the face that he would make when he turned in his bed to kiss me goodnight.

I miss how he would race to the door shouting my name when I came home at night.

I miss the sound of his voice and the amazing sound of his laughter.

I miss how he would dance.

I miss seeing him on his Big Wheel and playing with him on the trampoline.

I miss how he would get everyone’s attention to show off his gymnastics and eating skills.

I miss how much he adored Thomas the Train, Phineas & Ferb, and Lighting McQueen.

I miss how much he loved everyone.

I miss his ability to light up a room and the darkest of days.

I miss his hugs and his kisses.

I miss my sweet, innocent, beautiful, strong, wonderful son.



Yes, next week, I will try to focus on the blessings in my life—the gift of my son, my wonderful wife, our other beautiful children, and perhaps most especially the gift of God’s only Begotten Son who made it possible for me to be with my sweet Jacob again someday.  But today, I am succumbing to the pangs of hunger—hunger to hold my boy.  Today, I am famished for his laughter.  Today, I am starving to see my son.

Celebrating Cub's Birthday

We take birthday celebrations seriously in our home.  We believe that it is important to celebrate the gift that each life is.  On the day of each child’s birthday, our family celebrates by eating out and with an activity of the birthday
child’s choosing.   Before the traditional blowing out of birthday candles and eating of birthday cake, the birthday child would open their gifts.  However, with each of the children receiving gifts for both their birthday and Christmas, we realized a few years ago that they no longer needed “things” but more alone time with mom and dad.  Now they are given the choice between gifts or a “birthday date.”   A birthday date usually happens the weekend following their birthday and consists of meals out, a full day activity of their choice and a night in a hotel with a swimming pool…all with just the birthday child and mom and dad.  The kids have loved this new opportunity and since we introduced this new birthday choice several years ago, they have each chosen this option over birthday gifts.  It is a special time that they look forward to.  And so do I. 

Jacob’s birthday is tomorrow.  We have had so much trepidation as this day fast approaches.  We are not sure how to celebrate his birthday when he will not be here to eat his favorite Chick-fil-a nuggets, jump on the large blow-up toys at Kangaroo Zoo, blow out his candles MULTIPLE times (that was his favorite part…no matter who’s birthday it was!), or dive into his Thomas the Train birthday cake with enormous gusto and appreciation for fine frosting.  We know that we want to celebrate the life of our little Jacob, but the question is “how?” 

Last week we called our children together for a family council to decide how we wanted to celebrate Jacob’s birthday.  We talked about what his life meant to us and to all those that knew him.  I asked my children, “What is Jacob’s legacy? What did we learn from him?  What was his gift to the world?” The answer was obvious and immediate.  Jacob loved.  He loved everyone, without any reservations, holding nothing back.  When we asked friends what they remember most about Jacob, their answers were the same.  They remember being loved and hugged by Jacob.   Jacob was the perfect example of someone who loves unconditionally. 

There was our answer.  Jacob’s legacy is that of love and hugs.  That is how we will celebrate his birthday.  We will share Jacob’s legacy of love. 

We wanted to share something that would represent a “hug.”  Something safe and warm that could be used over and over to remind the receiver that they are loved and thought about.  We thought back to the blankets that we received from loved ones at the time of Jacob’s passing.  These blankets helped to give us security during a time when everything seemed so uncertain.  They kept us warm when the weather outside resembled the cold empty feeling that we felt inside.  The bright colors lifted our spirits and soft fabric reminded us of our cuddly Cub.  Most of all, these blankets covered us in the love of friends.  Blankets seem like the perfect way to share Cubby’s legacy of love.  We will call these blankets “Cub Hugs.”

On October 6, 2014 we will celebrate Jacob’s ninth birthday.  His birthday will mark the beginning of what will be a new tradition for our family and we invite you, ask you, to join us.  We will begin the giving of "Cub Hugs!"  Tomorrow and throughout the year we will give blankets to others.  We have made a small "Cub Hug" tag that will be attached to these blankets.

If you would like to help us celebrate Jacob’s life and his legacy of love, we invite you to share "Cub Hugs."  Find someone who needs to be reminded that they are loved and thought about.  Give them a blanket with a "Cub Hug" tag attached and if possible, give them a hug when delivering your blanket to them.  Our hope is that many will take advantage of this opportunity to show love, not only on Jacob’s birthday but throughout many years to come.  Thank you for remembering our Jacob and helping us to celebrate our loving little Cub!

You can view and print out a Cub Hug tag by clicking here.

Have you received a Cub Hug?  If you would like to upload a picture of your Cub Hug, you can do so at: www.facebook.com/CubsHugs.

Letter to Self

Dear Me,

I saw you today.  I wasn’t expecting to, but I did.  The image of you has haunted me since and I felt like I needed to write to you.  It has been nine months since you held your sweet son as he made his journey from your arms to the Lord’s.  Terrified of returning to the hospital where he left this life, I have made all of the children’s medical appointments at the Primary Children’s outreach clinics.  Unfortunately, today’s appointment for Michael could only take place at Primary Children’s Hospital.  I have been dreading this day for weeks.  I carefully planned where I would park and how I would make my way through the hospital in order to avoid the areas that I knew would flood me with memories of unspeakable pain.  However, my plans did not take hospital construction into account and before I knew what was happening, I was in “the hall.” 

The hall was busy today, not at all like it was at 3:00 am on December 15th.  But as I stood there waiting for the elevator, trying to block out everything around me, including my feelings, I looked to my left and I saw you.  You were walking away from the CT room where your Jacob had just been rushed in for what would be his final CT.  You had just stared in complete shock at what the neurosurgeon described as “one of the worst scans he had ever seen.”  The stroke doctor had just placed her hands on your shoulders and said, “there is no easy way to tell you this….”  And your world came crashing down around you.  After trying to process what information the doctors were giving you, you walked down the empty quiet hallway with the stroke doctor's arm around you, lifting you up.  That is when I saw you.  All of your disbelief and horror was now mine again and I can’t stop thinking about you.  There is so much to tell you.

You will walk up to your son’s room where you will be surprised to see your husband.  How in the world did he make it to the hospital in 30 minutes?  He looks terrified, completely panicked and is standing at the side of the bed holding Jacob’s hand and crying.  Your eyes and face will tell him everything that he needs to know even before the doctors explain everything to him.  You will call dear friends to bring your children up to the hospital to tell their little brother one more time how much they love him and you will watch as they kiss his warm little face for the last time.  Your heart will feel like it is being completely crushed inside your body.  And then late that night, you will lie next to your small son in his large hospital bed and you will hold him and hand him back to the Lord.

You will be carried that week, by angels on earth and angels in heaven.  Mostly, you will be carried by your Savior.  You will have to make decisions and do things that no mother should ever have to do.  You don’t know how but somehow you make it through the week and you will bury your treasure during a winter's snow, just days before Christmas. 

During the next nine months you will experience a grief that is all consuming.  You will cry, everyday, much more than you will ever admit to anyone.  Please be gentle with yourself.  In grief support, you will learn that a mother’s tear is worth more than a thousand words.  You have a lot to say, most of which will only be spoken through those tears.  If you didn’t love your Jacob so much, his loss would not hurt so much. 

It will take many weeks before you are not terrified of leaving your home to do simple errands.  You will drive to the grocery store, park, and then turn the car around without ever going into the store.   You will be asked by strangers how many children you have and you will stare blankly at them not knowing how to answer.  The answer is seven.  You have seven children.  Six at home and one in heaven. 

You will worry intensely because so many resources will tell you that the divorce rate of couples who have had a child pass is staggeringly high.  Please do not worry about this.  Your marriage is strong.  This tragic loss only makes it stronger.  You recognize that your husband is the only person that truly understands… completely.  You both admire each other’s strength and commitment to your family.  You are so blessed to have him and his love. 

Nine months will pass and you will still have yet to go through Jacob’s room.  Everytime that you try, you pick up one of his toys or take a shirt off of the hanger, you stand there with tears rolling down your face and finally decide “not today.”

You discover a strange thing…you bury much of yourself with your son.  Not just your love, heart and immense devotion, but your abilities, strengths and interests.  Where you once found great comfort in music…you will not enter your music room for almost six months.  When you finally do, you have lost much of your abilities on the piano and are unable to play the harp without weeping.  Start slowly.  I believe that it will come back.  

You will loose your ability to keep track of time and even remember what month it is.  Trying to keep up with children’s activities and school assignments becomes very difficult and you wonder if you are loosing your mind.  What used to be simple for you, will take great concentration.  Again, try and be patient with yourself. 

Perhaps the most difficult part of the coming year is walking with each of your children through their own journey of grief.  They have lost their childlike innocence.  They are now all too aware that they and their loved ones are vulnerable and mortal.  I have no advice for you on this.  You can not take their journey for them.  They have to make their own personal journey through their grief.  But you will be with them, holding their hand and crying with them. 

Your priorities will change.  You no longer care if your house is a mess.  You will cut back on your children’s extra-curricular activities.  You will no longer feel the need to attend every school, community and church function.  Some may see these changes as laziness or poor decisions.  You will see them as reprioritizing.  You have seen what really matters in life.  You have a firm conviction that nothing in this life is more important than your family and your relationship with your Savior. 

I wish that I could have put my arms around you today.  While I desperately wanted to turn and run from the hospital, I also wanted to reach out to you.  I wanted to help hold you up and take some of the pain from you.  But I couldn’t.  You are in shock now and that shock will get you through the next couple of weeks.  The reality of life without your Jacob will settle in soon and as much as I want to tell you that the pain will lessen, I can’t.  You will learn to function in your “new normal” life without Jacob, but the pain doesn’t lessen.  That  will happen when the resurrection comes and your arms are once again filled with your sweet Cub.  Until that time, be patient with yourself.  I will think of you often.
                                                                                                                           Love, Me

Letter to a Friend

I recently reread a letter that I sent to a remarkable friend several months ago.  My message was a response to a condolence email that my friend had sent me immediately after Jacob's passing.  I decided to copy a portion of that message here because it gave voice to so much of how I feel about my son…

…However, the thing that touched me the most was your email below.  I haven’t had the emotional strength to respond to most of the messages that Jennifer and I have received this past week.  We are very grateful for all of the kind and supportive things that people have said and we have received much strength from their words.  However, your message below contained a few short words for which I was unspeakably grateful and I wanted to express that gratitude to you.  Although I am grateful to you and your family for many, many things, it is your email below that prompted me to write you at this time.  I simply had to thank you for your message.

As you know, my beautiful son had Trisomy 21 (Down’s Syndrome).  Because of Jacob’s genetic condition, many people mistakenly believed that we loved our son but were somehow disappointed by his “limitations”.  The truth of the matter is that both Jennifer and I find our son to be the most remarkable individual we have ever met or ever hope to meet.  Jacob was, and is, my hero and the example to me of everything I hope to be someday.  He loved unconditionally, forgave instantly, found joy in the smallest of blessings, found self-worth in small accomplishments, and never forgot to turn to G-d (he would remind us on frequent occasion of our need to pray).  He carried a light within him that brightened the day of everyone that was privileged to come in contact with him.  He created love and joy where there was none.  He uplifted, and brightened, and taught.  I was so very, very, very proud of him.

Although we received many messages of consolation and love when we lost our Jacob, most of the messages seemed to focus on what we had allegedly done for Jacob.  At best, they acknowledged our intense love for our son.  When I received your message below, I openly wept, however.  It meant so much to me to have someone acknowledge the fact that I was not only filled with “loving”, but “proud” memories of my son.  It meant a great deal to me to have someone acknowledge that Jacob was (and is) an “exceptional little boy”, a “wonderful source of joy and love”, and that “he enriched the lives of each member of [our] family immeasurably”. 

I am so very proud of my son.  I am eternally grateful for him and the few short years that I had to bask in his light.  I am also grateful for the blessing of remarkably considerate individuals such as you, [your wife] and [your son] who have helped to ease our sorrow, if only by degrees.

Thank you for your messages.  Please express my gratitude to [your wife] and [your son] for their messages as well.  Most of all, thank you for being insightful or receptive enough to include the particular words that you chose in your email below.  I will never be able to properly express how much they meant to me.

With much appreciation,
-James

Break Every Chain

When James and I traveled to China to bring our Jacob home, we were away from our children here at home for three weeks. Jeffrey was only in first grade and three weeks away from mom and dad seemed like an eternity to him. It seemed like a really long time for all of us to be away from each other. To help our children with the anxiety of the time that we would be separated, they each made a paper chain. Each night of our absence, they tore a link off of their paper chain to help them count down the time until we would be together again. I remember that when we first hung their paper chains up, they seemed so long. Jeffrey commented on how long his chain was and that it seemed like it would take forever before he could take off the last chain link. The kids were faithful about removing a chain link each night and before we knew it, the three weeks were over and we were all reunited, only this time, our Jacob was with us.

The 15th of each month is always extremely painful. It marks another month from the last time I got to hold my breathing, soft and warm Cub. It is difficult to not replay the events of that last day of Jacob’s life over and over in my mind. The first three “month anniversaries” have been nearly intolerable. As I lay in bed last night, dreading the fact that today was the 15th, I decided that I couldn’t handle a lifetime of these sad anniversaries each month. I decided that I needed to change the way that I think about this day. I decided that rather than counting the number of months that it had been since Jacob took his last breath, I would count the anniversary as another month down until I got to see my living breathing warm baby Cub again. I decided that I needed a paper chain. I planned that each month, on the 15th, I will bring my Jacob a paper chain link that has been torn off, figuratively speaking, from the paper chain that counts the time until I am with him again.

I have learned first-hand that life is very fragile. In an instant, life can be unexpectedly ended. I don’t know how many links to put in my paper chain. Today’s link may be the last link that I ever place at his gravesite or I may live to place hundreds more. But, my hope is that by placing a chain link on my son’s grave each month, I will focus on the glorious promise of resurrection and eternal life. I will try and focus on the future promise of reunion rather than the pain and sorrow of separation.

Now before I finish my post for today, I want to share a tender mercy that I received from the Lord just minutes ago and I pray that I am not offending Him by sharing what I very much believe to be His gift to me. As I returned from the cemetery, where I brought Jacob the first link of my new tradition, I pulled into the garage and lifted my hand to turn off the car. As I did, the radio announcer introduced a “brand new song from Digital Age, Break Every Chain.” I of course didn’t turn off my ignition, but rather sat in my car with tears streaming down my face as I listened to a song that I know was given to me right at the very moment that I needed it. I believe in tender mercies and I believe with all my heart that the Lord sent me one today. (You can listen to the song at this link)https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxxYqSwJRuU

Family...It's About Time

It was about 5:30 am on Sunday, December 15th. Jacob had just been rushed down for a CT scan. Results of the scan indicated that it would be the last day of Jacob’s earthly mission. James and I were in total shock, barely able to breathe. As we tried to determine what our next steps would be, James turned to me and said, “Call Dad.”

James and I have put this blog together to help us heal. We also want to be able to read our thoughts and feelings in the future. It will contain some of our most painful moments. But, we also want it to contain the blessings that we felt through our darkest hours. This post is about the blessing of family.

When I called my parents’ home that Sunday morning, no one answered. I immediately called my brother who lives 15 minutes from my parents in Colorado. He quickly rushed to my parents’ home to deliver the news.

My father holds numerous titles, degrees and awards. He is truly one of the most accomplished and educated individuals that I know. He has always told his children that his favorite title is that of father. His actions have always validated that sentiment. That Sunday was no different. My father made the long trip to Utah and walked into Jacob’s hospital room that evening, just one hour before Jacob took his last breath. He remained by our sides the rest of week.

I am the oldest of five children. None of us live in the same state. It has always been extremely difficult to get everyone together. I knew that an unplanned trip to Utah just six days before Christmas seemed almost impossible for my siblings and their families and I was prepared to have many loved ones absent as we laid Jacob to rest.

One of my sisters and her three children had arrived in Colorado only the night before Jacob’s last day. She had gone to spend Christmas with my parents since her husband was deployed with the military and would continue to be so for several months. On Tuesday, she packed up my parents’ car with her three little children and she and my mother made the long drive to Utah. Once here, she worked tirelessly to provide photos to display at Jacob’s funeral, go shopping with my daughters for clothes for the funeral, clean my house, and take pictures of Jacob’s funeral. Through incredible circumstances, her husband was also able to be at Jacob’s funeral; although he would have to immediately return to Siberia to finish his deployment and miss Christmas with his wife and three tiny children.

My other sister had just moved to Chicago with her husband’s new job. We believed that the financial strain on purchasing last-minute plane tickets for them and their three children would prevent them from coming. However, they decided that they were not going to miss their opportunity to say goodbye to Jacob and offer us their support. Due to severe weather, their plane was stranded over night at one of their layovers. They were completely exhausted, but arrived just moments before the visitation and funeral on Wednesday. On Friday, the day after the funeral, all of our other family members left except for them. James and I were completely drained and were beyond exhausted, both physically and emotionally. My sister and her husband took our children for three days and fed and cared for them. They even took them sledding and swimming. They were able to be strong for our children when we were weak. They gave them what we were unable to give.

My brother from Colorado drove in with his family arriving the night before Jacob’s funeral. I will always remember leaning on my brother for support and feeling his strength during a particularly difficult moment. We had just been told that it was time to close Jacob’s casket and make the long walk down to the chapel. Having been at the visitation for several hours, I needed a moment in the restroom. My brother recognized that I was physically weak and offered to help walk me to the bathroom. Once we entered the hall, I heard the harp prelude music from the chapel and a flood of emotion overtook me. I seriously doubted my ability to continue with the arrangements. I knew that once I returned from my trip to the restroom, I would kiss my baby for the last time and close his casket. I had been dreading this moment the entire week and it was now right in front of me. My knees buckled and I couldn’t walk or breathe. My little brother put his arm around me and let me lean on him as he supported me on my errand. I desperately needed his strength.

My youngest brother and his wife are stationed in Texas and not only did they arrive for the funeral with their baby, but my brother returned twice in the next two months to help us. He was here to be the “fun uncle” when we celebrated Jeffrey’s birthday just three weeks later. He spent an entire Saturday, starting at 5:00 a.m., driving our children to their activities, watching sporting events, building a snowman and taking them on individual lunch dates. He was there as I decided to place Jacob’s coat, the blue coat that we brought with us for Jacob to wear when we picked him up in from China and that he wore until his last car ride to Primary Children’s, into a storage box for safe keeping. He held me as I held that little blue coat and sobbed until I couldn’t see.

My sweet mother is suffering from severe health issues. Traveling is difficult for her. However, she made the long ten hour car ride with my sister to be by my side. Having her support meant so much to me. After the funeral, we returned to the church for a meal prepared by our dear friends. Michael had enjoyed the meal and had confused a nervous stomach with a hungry stomach. Having overeaten, he went out to the church foyer and got very sick. I have certainly cleaned up a goodly share of children’s bodily messes in my life, but as I stood there looking at this one, I was stymied. James and I were so exhausted; we had no idea what to do. My mother informed us that she would take care of Michael and the mess and sent us home. I know that job was extremely unpleasant and I am so grateful that she took care of my sweet son when I couldn’t.

Our church has a slogan that it uses on TV and radio advertisements to promote the importance of families, “Family…it’s about time.” I believe that family relations are built when we spend quality time together, having fun and making memories. But I also believe that having the love and support of family during the most difficult and life-changing times is irreplaceable. When I recall the events of the week that we buried our Jacob, I remember that my family made unbelievable sacrifices to be there, quietly lifting, supporting, and loving. That is a gift for which I feel blessed beyond measure. I will also recall that when our precious son joined our family and was sealed to us, they were there as well. To me, the slogan “Family….it’s about time” not only represents the knowledge that we will always be there for each other, during both the good and the difficult times but also that our family is eternal. We are a forever family and our “time” together will never end. For that, I am eternally grateful.

A Baby Changes Everything

"A Baby Changes Everything”.  Most people consider it to be a Christmas song.  For me, it belongs to St. Patrick’s Day…

Over the course of the past few weeks, I have watched the videos of Jacob’s “gotcha day” and ensuing homecoming several times.  When I reflect on those videos, three things in particular stand out in my mind:  Jacob’s celestial laughter, my wife repeating the words “he’s just a baby” over and over, and the surreal green hue of the homecoming pictures.

Jacob’s perfect laugh needs little explanation.  I have never heard, nor do I expect to ever hear something more wonderful than Jacob’s laughter.  He filled our hotel room with that laughter the night of his gotcha day, and he continued to fill our lives with those heart-warming giggles nearly every day until he left us.

As for the “baby” comments—we have video of the first time that we Skyped our children from China and introduced them to their new little brother.  Jacob was five at the time, and our other children were startled by how small he was.  They were also surprised by his demeanor which was that of someone several years younger.  In both size and development, Jacob appeared to be about two years old at the time.  In trying to explain the situation to our other children, my wife kept repeating the words to them, “Guys, he’s just a baby.  He’s just a baby.”

Two weeks later, we arrived home with our sweet Jacob and his siblings had the opportunity to meet him in person for the first time.  Emily collapsed with emotion when she first saw Cubby.  The other children fell instantly in love with him.  In my mind, the videos of the children playing in the back yard with Cub always seem to go in slow motion.  There also seems to be a strange Hollywood-like green filter over the camera—something to create a “flash-back” effect.  Interestingly, when I look at the actual photos of that homecoming day, the green hue is really there.  Where did it come from?  It was St. Patrick’s Day and everything other than Jacob was washed in shades of green.

And so it was that on that St. Patrick’s Day three years ago that “a baby changed everything”.  He brought joy and laughter into our family beyond anything that we had previously known.  He helped us to see the world in new and beautiful ways.  He helped us love each other a little more and even accept ourselves just a little better.  We had to baby proof our home again and find creative ways to keep doors and windows closed and locked.  However, our hearts were pried wide open to let in light and love and laughter that changed our home into a heaven on earth. 

I wish the story ended there, but it doesn’t.  Three months ago our sweet Jacob left us. He was the baby of the family and so pure and innocent that the only words that seem to accurately reflect his demeanor would be “angelic” and “baby-like”.  Now he really is our “angel baby”, and his departure has left a void in our hearts and our family that is truly indescribable.  The darkness and pain that was left in the wake of Jacob’s death has been numbing at best and crushing more often than not.  Just like his arrival, Jacob’s departure was a defining moment for our family.   We lost our baby and the loss of a baby changes everything.

I am pleased to say that the story doesn’t end there either, though.  A little over two thousand years ago, another man welcomed his adopted son into his family and held him lovingly in his arms for the first time.  That baby also brought love and light with Him—love and light that would eventually fill the world.  And that baby brought something else with Him.  That baby brought life—immortality and eternal life—gifts that He contained within himself.  However, that baby wouldn’t be able to give those gifts to the world until after His Heavenly Father, the most powerful being in the universe, sat helplessly by and watched as His Son slipped from life into death.  “For God so loved the world…”

When the Savior suffered and died for us, He not only overcame sin (something that Cubby had not been stained with)—He also broke the bonds of death.  He made it possible for Jacob’s spirit to be reunited with his body in a resurrected form.  He made it possible for me to someday hold my son in my arms once again and bask in the sound of his glorious laughter. 

The Savior’s Atonement also made it possible for us to be to be together forever as a family, and that knowledge is the only thing that gets me through some days.  I desperately want to be with my son again in the eternities, and God’s Only Begotten Son made that possible for me.  Jacob’s death brought indescribable darkness into our lives, but the Light of the World has helped us to survive that darkness.  I have also felt the strength of His love and mercy as they supported me through some of my most devastating hours.

Three years ago tomorrow we brought our sweet Jacob home for the first time.  Three months ago yesterday we held our baby boy as life slipped away from his body.  At the meridian of time, the Savior of the World was born in a lowly stable, destined to break the bonds of death for all mankind.  Yes, a “baby changes everything”.

My whole life has turned around
I was lost but now I'm found
A baby changes everything, yeah
A baby changes everything
(From the song “A Baby Changes Everything” by Craig Wiseman and Tim Nichols)

Scars

The week before Jacob’s stroke, I found out that I would need extensive surgery. The surgery would be very risky and required that I have a team of top surgeons.  With Jacob’s passing and the need to coordinate several surgeons’ schedules, the operation was scheduled for late January.  With blessings from the Lord, and competent and skilled surgeons, the surgery was successful and we are grateful to have it behind us.

As I lay in bed recovering from the surgery, I have a lot of time to think.  If I am honest with myself, the majority of those thoughts are of my Jacob and the pain that I feel at his passing.  The pain associated with the new twelve inch abdominal incision pales in comparison to the open and raw wounds of my broken and shattered heart.

Coming home from my two week post-op visit, I asked my husband to stop by the cemetery.  Before my surgery, I had visited the resting place of my sweet Jacob every day.   This was my first visit to his grave following my surgery.  This was also my first visit to his grave since the snow that had fallen on the day of his funeral had melted away.   The grass that was once beneath the snow was now visible again and bore the scars of the ground being opened and closed to bury our treasure.  I could now see the outline of Jacob’s once opened grave and the bulge in the ground where our treasure box now lies.  I was not prepared for my emotional reaction.  I fell apart.  The obviously pieced-together grass intensified the painful reminder that Jacob’s little body was so close yet still out of my reach.  The ground scars mimicked those gashing scars left on my heart from my little boy’s passing.  It was painfully obvious that my physical scars were going to heal immeasurably faster than my emotional scars.

I am familiar with surgeries and scars.  My abdomen alone bears the scars from eleven surgeries.  These scars have bothered me and made me self conscious.  Most of these surgery scars are related to my role as a mother.  Some scars represent the precious and immeasurable gift of a little life, while others represent only heartache and the loss of yet another little child that we will not be blessed to raise in this life. Some scars have healed quickly while others necessitated many weeks in the hospital and months of healing.   My precious husband has always been so sweet about my scars, acknowledging his gratitude for my sacrifices as we put our family together.   I am deeply grateful for his appreciation for my sacrifices to be a mother, but a woman likes to feel attractive and beautiful and it is difficult to do so when past injuries are so obvious. 

However, a short while ago I heard a quote that changed how I viewed my scars, “Never be ashamed of the scars that life has left you with.  A scar means the hurt is over, the wound is closed, you endured the pain, and God has healed you.”  This simple truth reminded me of all that my husband and I had learned during the difficult and scarring times in our lives.  We had grown closer together as a couple, closer to the Lord, closer to our family and friends and learned lessons that could only be learned through the healing of these scars, both physical and emotional.

Recently, I found another quote and although I have been unable to identify the individual who deserves credit for the quote, I find the statement simple and profound. “Look for someone’s scars and there you will find their purpose.”  How true this seems to be for me.  One can look at my scars, both physical and emotional and you will find my purpose.  I am a mother.  My purpose is to love.  I believe with my whole heart that my mission on earth is to be the best wife and mother that I can be.  Although I make countless mistakes in my endeavors, my entire life is dedicated to my pursuits in these roles.  It consumes my mind, body, and heart.

However, this quote has much deeper meaning.  As I try to heal from the physical and emotional scars of motherhood, I could not do so without my Savior.  As I look to the scars in His hands and feet, I find His purpose.  Because He bears those scars, He knows how to heal mine.  He knows how to carry me when I cannot walk.  He knows how to heal my broken and shattered heart, because he bears the weight of my emotional scars.  While I bear the physical scars of giving my children earthly life, my Savior bears the scars of giving them eternal life.  Because of His scars, I am able to heal.  Because of His scars, one day the scarred ground above my precious buried treasure will open and my Jacob will emerge whole and healthy.  Because of His scars, I can be with Jacob and my entire family forever.

I believe that everyone who walks this earth has scars.  Some are physical and obvious, but most are deep emotional and spiritual scars.  We experience pain, loss, sorrow, heartache, and betrayal.  We are scarred as we suffer, learn and grow.  We are scarred as we love deeply and unconditionally.  The miracle occurs when we allow the scars of the Master Physician to bind up our wounds, help us through our pain and ultimately heal us.  The scars left from this healing process are precious.  I am grateful that they stay and do not disappear.  They serve as a constant reminder of Christ’s purpose and the immeasurable love that He has for you and me.  How grateful I am for my Savior’s scars.  

Mother's Memories (Given at Jacob's Funeral on Dec. 19, 2013)

As you all know, I take my responsibilities as a mother very seriously. My family is my life and my children are my world. If there is something that my child needs, I like to be the one to fill that need. So today, my sweet baby needs thoughts to be shared at his funeral. I feel like this is the last thing that I can do for my son in this life and so I have asked the Lord to help me with this, as my grief is overwhelming. I pray that the Spirit will be with me so that I may calmly share my thoughts and feelings.

As you have taken time today to come celebrate the life of our treasured son, and because it is Christmas, I wish to give you a gift. It is a sacred gift to me and the most precious that I have to offer. I wish to tell you more about Jacob in hopes that your life may be edified as mine has been.

I wish to entitle my thoughts today, “Everything Important I Ever Learned, I Learned from Jacob.” In sharing these thoughts, I will share personal stories of my sweet son and hope that treasured memories of mine will bring joy to your heart as well.

The first lesson that I learned from my Cub was to love unconditionally and to create love where there isn’t any . Most everyone who knows Jacob has been the recipient of many hugs and kisses. Every time our doorbell would ring, our visitor would be welcomed to our home with a hug from Jacob. Visitors were often people that Jacob did not know personally. Some were his siblings’ friends, some were friends from church and others were working for UPS, simply delivering mail to our home. It didn’t matter that Jacob didn’t know the UPS man; the UPS man was given a tender embrace before he was sent on his way after delivering a package.

This past Halloween, I watched my little boy as he offered every student who passed by in the Halloween parade a high five. It didn’t matter to him that sometimes the student did not want to participate in the high five. It mattered to him that he had offered it.

I learned from Jacob that I must show my love at every opportunity . Jacob did not take his love for his family members for granted. Every time I walked through the garage door into the house, Jacob ran to me and threw his arms around my legs yelling “mom!” Sometimes, I had only walked out to empty the garbage or get the mail. But Jacob saw that two minute separation, followed by reunion, as something to be celebrated and appreciated.

Whenever Jacob saw James and I hugging, he would run over and throw his arms up to us. James and I would reach down and grab his arms and lift him up to us so that we could all share in a group hug. He just couldn’t stand seeing other people give love and he not be a part of it.

When I would put Jacob and Michael out the door in the morning to get on the bus, Cubby would turn around; pucker his lips and point at them. He wouldn’t leave for the bus until I had kissed his little lips.

Because of Jacob’s ability to offer unconditional love, he was a master at comforting those that stand in need to comfort . If Jacob saw someone who was sad, he would quickly try to make them feel better. He would start with a hug, then a kiss. He would rub their face with his little hand, and look deep into their eyes and ask “you ok?” Sometimes if he encountered someone who was crying, his empathy would get the best of him and he would begin to cry too…not having any idea why he was crying.

I learned the importance of forgiving quickly from Jacob. Jacob was absolutely unable to hold a grudge against anyone or stay angry at someone. I remember a day, several months ago, where Michael became upset that Jacob’s iPad was charged and his was not. As jealousy raged, Jacob was hit by the iPad and now needed many stitches in his eyebrow. Little Jacob was hurt and began to scold Michael for injuring him. I told Michael he needed to apologize to Jacob. Michael weakly gave the sign for “sorry” and started to cry. Jacob immediately forgot his injury and started to hug and kiss Michael and tell him that it was alright.

Jacob was a master at serving others. Every night when James would walk through the door after work, Jacob would first throw his arms around his legs and yell “Baba.” He would then pick up James’ slippers and bring them to James and place them right in front of his feet. If James walked away from the slippers without putting them on, Jacob would pick the slippers back up and place them, again, right in front of where James was standing. This would continue until James had put on the slippers.

For the past few months we have been teaching Jacob and Michael to shower themselves. I would sit at the side of the shower and give physical and verbal prompts as they learned to clean themselves. Jacob had become a master at cleaning himself. He would lather the soap on his buff puff and scrub like crazy, including all over his little face, which would then be covered in bubbles. Michael does not appreciate bath time nearly as much as Jacob and would hide in the back of the tub. Each night, Jacob would decide that he needed to help Michael and after he scrubbed himself would turn to Michael and start scrubbing him head to toe. He would then take his head and tilt it back to rinse the shampoo out. It truly reminded me of the Savior washing the disciple’s feet.

Another lesson that I learned from my son is to appreciate the small things in life and not take them for granted. Jacob loved to be warm. When it was time for his bath every night, Jacob would put his hand under the water and say “WWWAAAAARRRMMMM.” He would then put his little body under the water and repeat “WWWWAAAARRRMMMM.” He loved when I put his winter coat over the heating vent in the morning before he got on the bus. When I placed the coat on him, he would again smile huge and say, “WWWWAAARRRRMM.”

Jacob loved school and loved his bus ride to school. Each morning I would go into their room and wake Jacob and Michael up. The first word out of Cubby’s mouth was, “bus?” I would tell him them that yes, the bus was coming. Michael, who does NOT like mornings, would yell from under the covers of his bed, “NO bus!” To which Cub would respond, “Yes, bus.” This debate would go on for several minutes until Michael had come to grips with the fact that he would indeed have to get out of bed.

We were always in trouble if there was snow out on the way to the bus. Jacob was not able to walk out to the bus without stopping to appreciate the fluffy white stuff. I would have to follow him out and help him to put down the snow, lift him out of the drifts that came up to his knees and carry him to the bus so that he didn’t get “re-sidetracked.”

A lesson that I was still learning from Jacob, is to be pleased with my accomplishments, no matter how small. For three years, our family has rarely had a dinner where Jacob did not pat his daddy’s arm and say, “Baba, Baba” until he got James’ attention. He would then go around the table getting everyone’s individual attention. When he had made the rounds and called each of us by name, we would all respond, “We’re all watching Cub.” He would then take a hugely exaggerated bite of food and smile. He was so proud of himself for eating and he wanted us to be proud of him as well. And we were. It was also a rare meal where Jacob did not hop up to show us his middle splits or throw both legs back and tuck his feet behind his head. We called it “Pretzel Cub.” He was so proud and we were so impressed.

Jacob loved my harp and would come running whenever I was playing. He would sit on my lap and his little arm would be extended as far as it could go and he could barely reach a few strings. He would sit there plucking the strings for a very long time. In his mind, he was playing a symphony and he was so proud.

I learned the value of laughter from Cub. He had a glorious sense of humor and loved to make people laugh. The more we laughed, the more he smiled and hammed it up. He recently learned to be a “shoulder angel” for the kids. Having watched Studio C’s shoulder’s angel skits, Jacob decided that he was to be a shoulder angel. He and his siblings have spent many hours during the past several months performing shoulder angel skits for us.

Jacob would do spontaneous things that were hilarious. Sometimes we were not sure if he had meant to do them or not. For instance, we took Jacob to Chick-fil-a recently. I opened his chocolate milk and stuck his straw in the top. For some reason, Jacob picked up the bottle of chocolate milk and dumped the entire thing over his head. He looked as surprised as we did! On our next visit there, a young man who works at Chick-fil-a came to our table to bring us our food. He started to smile and said, “Wait a minute, is this the kid who poured chocolate milk all over his head? That was AWESOME!”

Jacob knew that we found him adorable and discovered things that he could do that made us happy and that would get him out of trouble. His latest trick was to say “yeeessss” (in a quiet, drawn-out voice). So we would start asking him questions like, “Are you cute? Are you adorable? Do you love your mommy?” To which he would respond “yeeessss.” Then we would start throwing random questions out like, “Are you naughty? Are you going to be a nuclear physicist? Do you speak fluent French?” To which he would also respond “yeeessss” and when we started to laugh, he would say, “You’re funny!”

Jacob has taught me the importance of loving unconditionally, showing love at every opportunity, comforting those that stand in need of comfort, forgiving quickly, appreciating small things, celebrating my accomplishments, and living life with a smile and a laugh. Jacob also reminded us of the importance of remaining constantly in touch with our Heavenly Father. Jacob was completely faithful in remembering to say his prayers. At each dinner, he would remind us to say the prayer before we had even all taken our seats. He always wanted to be the one to say the prayer and would become upset if someone else said it. So we often had two or three dinner prayers.

As any mom could, I could go on for days with fun stories of my baby. Most people look at Jacob and say that he was limited in what he was able to accomplish and achieve in this life. They think that his Trisomy 21, or Down syndrome, is somehow a deficiency. However, I know differently. Jacob wasn’t deficient in anyway, he wasn’t MISSING anything…his extra chromosome, was an ADDITION. Jacob didn’t need to bother himself with the things of this world that don’t matter. He knew more about charity and about the things that truly matter, the things of God, than most people will ever know. I believe that most of that came with his extra chromosome.

As we have talked as a family over the past three days about Jacob and memories that we have of him, it has become gravely obvious to us that the light is gone in our home. Right now, we have no idea how to rekindle that light. Our hearts are beyond broken and we are in complete anguish. All we know to do is rely on our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.

I will never be able to adequately express my gratitude that I was blessed to be Jacob’s mother. It is a blessing that I feel unworthy of. We have been told by many that we have blessed Jacob’s life but I stand here today to tell you that it was he who blessed ours.

James and I had an experience this past Sunday that will be forever etched in our hearts. Recent imaging and exams had shown that Jacob’s stroke had continued to grow, was entering the brainstem, and that death was eminent. We had called our dear friends and asked them to bring our children to the hospital so that they could say goodbye to their brother. The pain was beyond crushing. It was at that time that two Elders came to Jacob’s room in the ICU and offered us the Sacrament. There, at side of my son’s death bed, I listened to the Sacrament prayers and took the bread and water. I was overcome with a knowledge that my Heavenly Father was aware of my suffering and understood completely. I knew that He too had had to send His perfect Son away and be without Him for a time.

As we send our perfect Jacob off to continue his eternal mission, we are so grateful for the reason that we celebrate Christmas. Because Christ was born, I have hope. Because of His Atonement, I know that I can repent and prove worthy to return to His presence. Because of His Atonement, I can pray that I will feel the comforting peace that comes when we are able to turn over our sorrow and pain to the Lord. Because of His Atonement, I know that one day I will hold the precious and perfect resurrected body of my son. Because of His example, I am blessed with a knowledge of how to love.

As James and I held our little Jacob as he passed, I sang to him. I sang his favorite song, the one that he always asked for at night, “I Am a Child of God.” However, as I sang to my small son, realizing that he would soon be my own little angel, I changed the chorus to reflect the pleading desire of my heart.

Cubby, please...

“Lead me, guide me, walk beside me,
Help me find my way.
Teach me all that I must do
To live with you someday.”