Archives for April 2008

We got Felix’s death certificate in the mail yesterday. I expected to cry when it came… but I didn’t. I haven’t decided yet whether that is good or bad. I mean, I had been anticipating it’s arrival any day but I thought that getting it would be another stab in the heart. It looked so much like “paperwork” that maybe that’s why it didn’t get to me. It isn’t “pretty” like a birth certificate.

I wonder if this is the beginning of “moving on.” I haven’t been as down the last few days as I had been. Maybe it’s more of an ebb and flow kind of experience. Some days fine and others hard. I guess we’ll see.

I was sitting here thinking about how Chloe has been dealing with all of this. She has said some amazing things for being only 4 years old. The day we found out that Felix died, Brian and I weren’t sure how to explain to her what had happened or what would be happening. So, we sat down with her and told her in the simplest way we could. She had some great questions. She also decided to talk to “Baby F” before we left for the hospital. She told him that she loved him and that she was sad that she wouldn’t see him but that she would meet him in Heaven someday. That night she made each of our parents come in to pray with her, separately, before she went to bed since I wasn’t there. Brian’s mom prayed for Felix and Chloe interrupted her saying, “Grandma, you don’t need to pray for baby F because he’s already with God.” Unbelievable. She has since asked God to keep taking care of Felix until we meet him in Heaven. She’s also asked me about what we will look like when we get to Heaven and if we’ll have to use the potty when we’re there. (remember, she is only 4 – these things are important) She’s said a bunch of other stuff, too, but it’s getting late and now I can’t remember a lot of it. I should’ve started writing everything down.

I hope that we can help her process what has happened, and continue to help her as she gets older. We’ll also have to explain it to Dylan and Ezra (and any others who may follow) someday, too. We’ll have to tell them about the hole in the Groce family alphabet.

We got a letter in the mail today from my Papa J. It is the most precious response I have received. I know I will come to treasure it more and more as time passes. (better than any greeting card that’s been written – and we got some good ones.) I have come to love and appreciate him more the older I get. He is a brilliant man, and tells the best jokes. I hope we can visit him soon.

I washed Felix’s clothes that he wore in the hospital this week. I still can’t believe how small he was. But long for that age, I think. (13 inches) Anyway, Brian and I had wanted to play this song at his funeral but didn’t. I thought I would share it here.

Give us faith to be strong
Father, we are so weak
Our bodies are fragile and weary
As we stagger and stumble to walk where you lead
Give us faith to be strong

-Andrew Peterson, Faith to Be Strong

(Warning, this may be a little unsettling for some – not the “me” everyone is used to)

This is my first post to my blog as it stands now. I imagine the tone will be a bit dark for a while… sad at times, silent at others, and maybe helpful in some strange way. I’m not sure that I like the idea of blogging through this time of my life, but I can’t think of anything else to do. I don’t really feel like talking.

My son, Felix David, died 10 days ago (stillborn at 24 weeks). I am angry, confused, tired, and heartbroken. (those words don’t seem quite strong enough) He was beautiful. He had a little hair already and big feet. His fingers were long and looked like mine. His face was like Dylan’s with Chloe’s nose. Maybe Ezra’s cheeks. What a combo. It was a strange moment, realizing he had been born yet the room was so silent, so still. No lullaby played over the hospital sound-system. No laughter or congratulations. Just still. I held him a lot. Held his hand, kissed his head. Talked to him and said his name. Made sure he was wrapped up tight. Brian and I prayed for him before the nurse wheeled him out of our lives the next evening.

I never expected to have to bury my 4th child at the “ripe-old” age of 29. His funeral was kind of a blur, like my wedding. I know I was there and I heard what was going on, but it flew by and was over before I knew it. Then I had had to leave him, for a second time. (I thought leaving him at the hospital was difficult) I didn’t talk to or look at anyone after I stood and walked away from him. If you were there, I’m sorry. I just needed to make it to the van before I collapsed, weeping.

I’m trying to still be Mommy for my other darlings. It’s been hard the last 3 days. Before the funeral it seemed like it would be okay, almost manageable to get on with life. Then came the weekend from Hell. I ended up back in the hospital because I got sick and fainted twice. (BP of 83/25 doesn’t quite get you through the day) I am making myself eat so I don’t end up in there for a third time in 3 weeks. I left my bracelet on as a reminder to drink water. Now I just wish I could sleep.

I do need to say that our family and friends have been an amazing support to us. Feeding us, taking the kids for a little while so we can (try to) rest. All the logistics have been taken care of. Now comes the long road of trying to work this event into our lives and keep moving.