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.