Gratitude

It took me a while to hit upon this major key to happiness and peace.  For such a long time, I felt the gaping hole the loss of my little girl left in my life.  I still do.  But before, I felt that gaping hole as the definition of who I was.  Now, it's an important part but not the defining part.  I felt the pain of what I didn't have: a rainbow baby to somehow make my loss somehow feel less final.  Now, I know the rainbow baby will ever remain just that, the illusion of a baby I will not be holding, a mirage I've been chasing for years without success.  I still feel that pain.

But I have come to understand that there is power in focusing not on what I don't have--on the angels I can't hold for now--but on what I do have.  I do have two children around whom I can wrap my arms.  I have a supportive husband who will hold me when I fall apart with pain.  I have faith that the Lord is there, and that my angels are mine forever.  That they're watching over me now.  I believe in forever families.  I have heard of some people so enmeshed in grief that they've totally lost touch with reality.  They try so hard to regain what they've lost through irrational means.  I gain peace from the knowledge I don't need to be so desperate to hold the shreds of the past because I have a glorious future to anticipate.  I know I will hold them again, all of my angels.  They are lost, but only for now.  There is much to be grateful for in this knowledge.

 I know my angels watch out for me.  I know the Lord will send his Spirit when I am hurting.  For all of this, I can be eternally grateful.  Acts 27:23 states, "For there stood by me this night the angel of God, whose I am, and whom I serve."  The scripture refers to being in the service of God, not in service of the angel. I, too, can have my angels stand beside me as I serve God.  "And thanks be to God for [this] unspeakable gift"(2 Cor 9:15).  Gratitude brings me much joy, and I know it can do the same for you.

Gratitude

I have had some hard days recently.  But I know that I have to focus on gratitude for what I do have rather than on sorrow for what I don't or for what I've lost.  When I think back over all we've been through with my baby's death and five years of miscarriage, I'm tempted to fall into a dark place of pain and sadness.  It would be easy to do.  

However, this week is Thanksgiving in the US.  It's a time to reflect on all we've been given.  It's time to invite joy in by showing my living children how much I appreciate them by spending more time with them.  It's time to hold my husband and those two sweet kids close to my heart and focus on the joy that comes with counting my blessings.  Thanksgiving is about more than food.  It's about cherishing the moments with those we love.  It's about making memories.  And this week, I am determined to cherish every moment and make wonderful memories.   

When the Rainbow Fades

So we have a theory about our miscarriages.  Before, I thought that when we gave up on trying to have a baby, the Lord may still send a sweet little one then protect him or her when the time was right.  I've now come to the conclusion that no matter how a baby comes and when, my body will just not support a baby.  In fact, I'm fairly certain I have an unknown medical condition that is taking out the babies.  It may be another antibody.  It may be that my hormones don't kick in.  There's no way to say.  But I had a good two weeks of using the pills the doctor gave me to ward off baby loss--baby aspirin, progesterone, and prostaglandin--and it still did not help.  I still lost the baby at roughly the same time as the later ones of the others.  We can't know what's going on.

But at this point, we can know that my body will not support a baby.  There will be no rainbow baby for me, at least until the Second Coming and the Resurrection.  Then, I will have my army of angels where I can hold and love them.  Until then, I have to be grateful for what I have and continue in the hardest kind of faith, the "but if not" faith.  Elder Simmons of the LDS church described true faith, faith in the Lord that will not be shaken even when our prayers don't seem to be answered as we're hoping.  Lord, I want this.  But if not, I will still trust and believe.  And that is where I live, in the land of but if not faith.  I will not hold a rainbow baby, but I can be grateful for my angels and grateful for the children I can hold.  My peace and joy are both in gratitude.

I Believe Gratitude is the Key to Happiness

After Alamanda died, I longed for another baby to fill my arms.  It made sense that if sadness came from empty arms and the absence of baby warmth, cooing, and the smell of fresh baby breath and even the sour smell of tiny baby diapers, all it would take to make me happy was another baby.  I knew another baby could never replace Alamanda, but he or she could fill the empty spaces and relieve the pain.  But instead, I had to learn the hard way that the key to happiness is not from getting what I want but from gratitude for what I have been given. 

When my baby died, the loss left a massive, bloody hole in my heart and my life.  I wanted to get my smile back, but in a world plunged into darkness, my smile was hard to find in a way that wasn’t fake.  Looking at babies, pregnant women, and ultrasounds caused nothing but agony, and in Utah, they’re everywhere.  I kept reading LDS books on healing that showed all you had to do to find healing from the pain worse than any I thought possible was to study scriptures and pray.  Both of these brought peace, as did prayers of friends and family.  But above all, the formula in these books demanded I have another baby for my healing and happiness to be complete.  However, as much as I studied scriptures and prayed earnestly, my rainbow baby never came.  Pregnancy after pregnancy for 13 in a row, I met with more heartache, sometimes a quiet ultrasound with no heartbeat, a hospital visit or other medical intervention, but no baby.  Each time, we bought another porcelain angel for my kids to name, so we could put him or her on the shelf to help them feel the connection and to help them understand the reality of their siblings.  But despite testing and medication from the doctor to prevent another loss, there it came.  I started buying porcelain angels in advance because I figured chances were I would need them.  Every time I prayed about whether to keep trying, I felt like it was not yet time to quit. I have come to believe the reason I was guided this way was because I needed that time to hope in order to heal.  I emotionally needed that crutch, so the Lord let me have it. 

Eventually, I started noticing a pattern in the scriptures and in spiritual thoughts, LDS General Conference Talks, and other places.  Again and again, I heard that joy came not in the getting such as getting a baby but in the gratitude for that which I’d already been richly blessed.  I did not need a baby to complete me.  The Lord would heal me and make me whole, or as whole as I will be until I hold my angels again.  Elder Bowen’s talk from the October 2012 General Conference Really struck me.  He told the story of his journey of healing after his baby died.  He talked of the joy I can have even in spite of the pain, the healing that comes when I realize “How grateful I am to my Father in Heaven that He allows us to love deeply and love eternally. How grateful I am for eternal families. How grateful I am that He has revealed once again through His living prophets the glorious plan of redemption.”  I realized healing is a gift from the Lord, and it comes, in part, through gratitude. 

The Lord has given me so much.  I was blessed with four blissful, though sometimes challenging, months with my angel baby, Alamanda.  She was a truly special spirit who will be mine forever because of Heavenly Father’s plan for families.  I have also been blessed with an army of guardian angels who will watch over me until they can come again and fill my arms.  I have been blessed with a loving husband and two wonderful, warm, vibrant children I can hold and love.  We have been blessed with several pets to fill my days when the kids are in school, including a cat sent specifically to be a hug from Alamanda to my little girl, who still misses her sister.  I have been blessed with talents and opportunities to bless other lives through them. 

I will likely never hold another baby of mine until the Lord comes again.  But I can still find joy and happiness because of gratitude for my blessings and the knowledge that the separation isn’t forever, just for now.