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.