I remember planning out my future. Two boys and two girls. And then when it happened, boy, were my dreams unfolding before me. I fought the odds of single parenthood, met the man of my dreams, finished my degree, became a teacher, and had my perfect little family(actually big--partridge family like according to my brother-in-law LOL). Although everything wasn't perfect. I found myself annoyed and angered easily. My fuse was short and temper was shorter. I didn't have good relationships with family members, and I think I was avoided by some of my closest friends. I had everything I had envisioned and dreamed of, but I still struggled with being truly happy, and satisfied.

Mothers Day 2016, my brother and sister in law were home visiting. We all took my Mother out for lunch. I felt sick to my stomach and remember my mom saying jokingly, "Maybe you are pregnant! HA!" I was like yea right mom! You're crazy!

Let me back up a little bit more. I have always been a fan of the birth control pill, that was until I forgot to take it. So under the advice of a co-worker I opted for an IUD in May 2014. Flash to the following year (May 2015) at my next gynecological appointment--that IUD had been put in wrong--went through my uterine wall, and was 'floating' in my abdominal cavity. So that entire year, I really had no form of birth control, and didn't get pregnant--truly crazy with my track record of pregnancies. So they had to go in through my belly button to retrieve this IUD. Everything went fine, BUT after that surgery, I was never 'regular' with my period.

So back to Mothers Day 2016--upon Mom's joke about me being pregnant--I started thinking--when WAS my last period. Holy goodness, I had NO idea. This ate away at me for 2 weeks until the Tuesday after Memorial Day. I kept waiting and waiting to get my period--and it never came. So on my ride to work that morning, I stopped at Wal-mart and got the cheapest 'value' pregnancy test there was---still in disbelief that this could be possible. When I got to school, I went right into the bathroom and peed on that stick. Immediately it turned positive. How did this happen? Where would we put another baby? This was not in my plan! Who has 5 kids?! My husband had no idea I even suspected I was pregnant, he is going to have a cow!!  As tears streamed down my face, I went to the office looking for my principal. Our secretary was there, so concerned when she saw I was crying, but I told her I was just looking for Donna. I found her in the gym, getting her steps in, when she saw I was upset, she immediately asked what was wrong, how could she help and I just busted out, "I'M PREGNANT!" She laughed. Literally out loud. Which looking back, I so appreciate. This woman hired me when I was pregnant with Katie, I worked for her when I was pregnant with Buddy, then hired me as a teacher, without knowing I was pregnant with Alexa, and here I was pregnant AGAIN! But she was the first one I told.

Finally, it seemed like FOREVER, two days later I mustered up the guts to tell Chris. I looked at him and said I think I'm pregnant, expecting the worst, I believe he said, "Ha" and that was the end of that conversation! To think how worried I had myself. I then even waited to call the doctor to schedule my first appointment, thinking this pregnancy would end in a miscarriage---as I have had 3 other miscarriages before.

But it didn't, so I called. At my appointment, I really had no idea how far along I was, so they did an ultrasound and I was 12 weeks!!! I had managed to get through a WHOLE trimester without knowing--I mean WHO DOES THAT?!? LOL :D

During my pregnancy, I was bound and determined to have my tubes tied, so this wouldn't happen again. So because I had my mind made up, I truly enjoyed every aspect of my pregnancy with Jayse. We found out he was a boy around 20 weeks, and the kids were so excited. I was excited. This little baby I hadn't planned for, was meant to be here. Meant to be in our family. That's what Donna kept telling me as well, that I didn't plan this, but God's plans were bigger and Jayse was going to have an impact and was supposed to be here.

We didn't have a name picked out, none at all. Chris refused to look at the baby name book, he said he wasn't going to get too excited and he had plenty of time to think. He's always been that way with all the kids!

Jayse was so fickle! He didn't want to turn, I think he was sideways or breech the entire time. My last appointment, the day before Jayse was born, Dr. Solberg, didn't send me for an ultrasound--but assured me that my belly felt like my baby was head down. So when my water broke Thursday, December 15th, I thought there was no rush to get to the hospital--as I had been through this many times before. Chris was still working 3rd shift, and I was sleeping on the couch--as I found it hard to sleep when he wasn't home. As I was turning over, around 430 or so in the morning, my water broke. I got up and got in the shower and one of the kids woke up. Katie was so excited, she called my mother in law and then Chris. He came home and we all headed to the hospital.

Once we got to the hospital, I told the nurse I wasn't sure if he was head down or not because there wasn't an ultrasound done--but Dr. Solberg said he was head down. So the mid-wife on call checked and the utlrasound showed he was in breech position.

So for the first time out of all my 5 babies, I had to have a c-section. When Dr. Oh got there, they prepped me for the c-section and I was in there shortly after 8 a.m. The whole experience was COMPLETELY different than a vaginal delivery. COMPLETELY. And those of you whom have had both can attest to that I'm sure.

But Chris and I were certain that he was meant to come as a c-section, because then I could get my tubes cut and burned and be done with it--all with ONE SURGERY! If you have a vaginal delivery--you have to go back in weeks later to have your tubes cauterized--so we took this as a sign of PERFECT TIMING--this was what we were supposed to do!

So once I had the needle in my back, and arms strapped down, I didn't feel much. Just a lot of poking and pushing and pulling on my belly. And then suddenly at 8:24 a.m., my little miracle without a name, was born.

He was perfect. Chris wanted to call him Enzo at first. And the only Enzo I knew was on Vampire Diaries and I kinda didn't want my kid named after a teenie bopper show LOL. He was the smallest of all our babies. 8 lbs 1 oz. I was absolutely smitten. And because I had my tubes tied, I knew this was my last baby, so I soaked up every single moment.

Healing from the c-section wasn't fun, but oh man, it didn't matter, because I had this perfect little man who softened my heart, and renewed my belief in everything happens for a reason. My maternity leave, those 10 weeks were amazing. I didn't mind the mid-night feedings, or blow-outs, or his ear piercing screams when riding in a car. He was my very own angel, sent from God.

I remember sometime after Jasye was born, saying to Chris we needed to start going to church again. That we needed to get Alexa and Jayse, both, baptized. But between 5 kids, and me going back to work, and all good intentions, we just didn't get there. I hadn't been to church in years, since I was pregnant with Alexa I believe.

And then May 4th happened. It's been almost 7 months since that day, but those events are still as clear as if it happened today. I remember walking back to my classroom after eating lunch with my teammate and bf Maria, getting ready to go to recess and picking up my cell, seeing Connie had called. I remember thinking it was strange she'd call and not text if something was wrong. I remember telling Maria I needed to make a phone call. I remember running to the office and dialing her number. It was such an out of body experience. I remember hearing Connies voice, and the sadness in it. I remember dropping to my knees. I remember our secretary and vice principal being there. I remember crying and screaming. I remember yelling Chris' cell phone number so Cheryl could call him and tell him to get to Connie because Jayse wasn't breathing when she went to get him from his nap. I remember the car ride in Cheryl's black car. And she kept apologizing that she couldn't get me there faster. I remember calling my mom. I remember Chris calling me, once he got to Connies, and the emergency personnel telling him that Jayse didn't make it. I remember pulling in Connies driveway and sitting in the ambulance until they let us see him. I remember picking him up and hugging him. I remember singing you are my sunshine and covering him up kissing. I remember Chris telling me it was time to go. And I remember saying goodbye. I remember everything about that day. And still, it sometimes feels like a horrible, horrible nightmare that never could happen to my perfect life.

As December 15th approaches, I can't find the words to express my pain to celebrate Jayses' earthly birthday without him--I can say that Jayse, while his time here was incredibly and unfairly (in my selfish opinion) short, he made huge impacts in so many lives. My husband and I have dedicated the rest of our lives to serving our Lord and savior, Jesus Christ. Chris and I have been reading the bible, starting in the new testament--(although he is already done the new testament and half way through the old testament)--and one scripture that I have underlined and find much comfort is in 2 Corinthians 4:18 "So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."

I continue to believe that Jayse sends me rainbows, as he did today when I was feeling sad about tomorrow being December. I believe this earthly life is just a shimmer that fades into darkness ever so quickly. But there is hope. For as the bible says in Revelation-- there will be no more death or crying or pain for those who believe--for the glory of God gives the new heaven light and there will be no more darkness, because our Lord God is the light, and he will reign forever and ever.

Jayse has renewed my faith and it is because of his life and death that I can say I truly turned and dedicated myself to God, and I can confidently say I have been saved. I can't say all that prior to Jayses' life and death.

I invite you to e-mail/text/talk with me about building a relationship with our Lord. I'd be more than happy to share or I am capable of listening (haha--I'm not always so full of words).  Feel free to email me anytime mwhitt613@gmail.com or join me at Needmore Bible Church on Sunday mornings at 10 a.m. (or 9 a.m. for Sunday school), I would love to have you. As always, I share my story, in hopes of helping others through whatever waters they are wading through. God bless you.

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Momma with a Teaching Mission

I've looked forward to this evening for the past week. A night without anything. No football games or cheer leading practices. No baton or basketball. No church or bible study. I brought work home with every intent of checking it. I did make dinner, so there's something ;) but then after dinner, as I scrolled through my social media feed, I just felt paralyzed.

And I don't think feeling paralyzed was caused by any particular post that I read, or any image that I had seen. I've found on nights that I don't have to get my children somewhere, this paralyzed state is one I can't avoid. I want to get up and do things, but I just can't. I don't know how to explain it, maybe it's anxiety. I'm not sure. I lose all sense of time and before I know it, all evening passed me by and it's already time for bed. The thought that the holidays and your birthday are right around the corner probably contribute to my state.

Time goes by quickly anyway, but even more so in this never-ending season of grief. Perhaps my mind and heart is still in the beginning of May, dreaming of spending those long summer days with all 5 of my babes.  It's so hard to believe my favorite time of year is passing me by, and I could really care less.

The colors out the window disappear as I dream about the amazing sights you are witnessing in heaven. The pumpkin spice just doesn't taste as good as your cheeks did when I would give you kisses and I would hear you squeal with giggles. I've found myself avoiding friends expecting babies or those that have just had babies, because I just can't.  And it kills me that I can't. I have always been the one, loving on the babies, snatching up other peoples babies, talking about babies and birthing stories.

I'm not me anymore. And how could I be? But, I am still here. Still attempting, still trying. Days like these overwhelm me with loneliness. But I'm given little reminders that my God is with me, no matter what.  "Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid: do not be discouraged for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:9.

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Momma with a Teaching Mission

All it takes is this 40 second video I have to send me down that winding, spiral of emotions. This simply beautiful, amazing video of my sweet baby laughing, almost chuckling in fact. Everytime I watch it, I smile, and then almost instantly that smile turns into tears. 

What I wouldn't give, or trade, or do...

I think of how I spent my time, like I had time. Like time didn't matter, that it was endless. That it was ok if I spent this evening playing an mindless game on my phone or painting my nails with layers of color and intricate details or talking with 'friends' that weren't really friends at all but mere acquaintances and conversation were simply surface level. Because even if I spent one night this way, there would be countless others, years of evenings to cherish, snuggle, and hug. There aren't countless others. That time is gone. I don't have those moments that I thought would be endless.

Just to hold him, or kiss him, or even just smell his hair. What I wouldn't give.

This pain that is in the deepest parts of my heart, it makes me feel like I never experienced pain before. It takes my breathe away, makes my heart race, automatically brings a flood of tears from my eyes. My brain doesn't seem to work, or able to focus on anything other than this pain. Any other previous working senses turn off and all I can feel in this all encompassing sadness and hurt.

The emptiness felt can only be described as a broken cup. I have this awful habit of leaving my earring in my cup holder of my van. When driving separate than my husband, I will stop on the way to work and treat myself to a Dunkin Donuts coffee. Quite a few times, embarrassingly enough, I have placed my coffee into my cup holder, and upon lifting the cup back out of the cup holder realized WHOOPS the coffee is leaking out because my earring punctured a hole! I try to fix the hole by putting tape over it, which didn't work, so I have to face it and pour my coffee from my broken cup into one of my classroom mugs. The emptiness of that cup, being broken and coffeeless is the only way I can describe how alone I feel. How many coffee cups get earrings punctured into them? How many mothers have to bury their child, their perfectly healthy child. At times I feel that my use is that of a broken Styrofoam coffee cup---trash.

Sometimes as I daydream I find myself wondering what can I do, how can I change these events. And then the events of that day begin. My mind plays those vivid memories over and over again, leaving me wondering why and how I could have prevented this.

I have to believe that there is something that has to come out of all of this, something that MUST come out of all of this. I pray for strength and clarity, and blessings and miracles. I pray that God uses this to do his work through me. I pray that he protects my other children and heals their hearts. I pray others don't have to suffer this loss like we have. And I pray for Jayse, that he knows how much I miss and love him, and that he know how much he has changed all of us.

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Momma with a Teaching Mission

I remember being 7, and thinking, anticipating about turning 8. When I was 8 I would be able to do so many things. And then I turned 8, thinking that on that day, something magical would happen, that somehow, in some way, I would be transformed and so much would change. That never happened. My 8th birthday came and went. I had built it up so much in my mind, this monumental event of turning 8, but nothing changed. 

So many times throughout my life I had the same feeling. That anxiety, butterflies in my stomach that when THIS, THAT, or THE OTHER happens, so much will change. I felt that way when I was about to graduate from high school. I felt that way when I was about to have my first baby, Karter. I felt that way when I was about to start new jobs. I felt that way when I was about to turn 30. I felt that way when I became a teacher. So much time I spend anticipating different life events. And when those magical days/moments/times happened, nothing changed. It wasn't like Cinderella and my carriage turned back into a pumpkin at the stroke of midnight. These events came and went, and all the anticipation and anxiety was really for nothing.

Shortly after Jayse passed and I had done the math that he was born on a Thursday, died on a Thursday, here on Earth exactly 4 1/2 months, or 20 weeks, or 140 days. I started feeling anxious about when it would mark him living in heaven for 140 days. I started thinking, when that day comes, it's going to be hard. That day will mark an equal time spent away from me that he was with me, only his time away from me will only grow larger and larger, while I'm living here on Earth. 

Except for this time, for this event I've been worrying over, something has changed.

I have changed. I have the strength the Lord, our God, has instilled in me. I no longer worry about others opinions. I don't worry about praying in front of strangers at dinner. I no longer care what people think of my views. I don't need the validation of others. I'm not living this life for them. I no longer worry about the temporary, fading away space in which we live.

These past 140 days have changed me. A magical moment? Well, maybe. 

Only with God's strength have I been able to endure, to have a voice, to lead, and reach out to others. Only with God's strength have I been able to find joy and comfort in his truth. Only in God's strength have I been able to look to my future and know I am not alone. And only with him, have I been able to continue, and move forward. 

140 days will only continue growing, but I know with God guiding me, I will continue to change and transform, with our Lord leading the charge, and Jayse cheering me on. 

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Momma with a Teaching Mission

This post goes out to you, Angel Mommas.

I'm sorry I never understood. I'm sorry I judged.I'm sorry I didn't remember. I'm sorry I questioned. I'm sorry for ignoring you and your angel.I'm sorry more people don't understand. I'm sorry our world expects us to just move on. I'm sorry we are going through this.

I never, EVER understood. Having 3 miscarriages myself, I thought I could relate with the pain of losing a child, but there was no way I had any idea of what you've endured, although for me the miscarriages were the closest thing. I can't even put into words what it is like. I hear from my family members people often ask them how I am doing--a simple question that they find so hard to answer.

I judged you and wondered 'really? another post/picture/conversation". Not realizing that that is all we have. The conversations/posts/pictures to make sure our children live on, entirely depends upon us to keep posting, sharing pictures, and having conversations.

 I was too consumed in my own itty bitty problems to remember that you were facing struggles moment by moment. I'm sorry I forgot your angels' name on occasion. I'm sorry that I forgot that you even had an angel. People are busy. Wrapped up in their own lives, but all we want is for them to remember our angel. All lifes' problems go by the wayside, and everything comes into a new perspective that none of those itty bitty problems ever really mattered.

I questioned why you weren't over this yet? I mean after all, it happened so many months/years ago. It doesn't matter how much time passes, time passing can't heal our broken hearts. This new normal of living with overwhelming waves of grief have no expiration date. I imagine whether I'm 40 or 98, this sadness in my heart will be the same fierce pain it has been since the day my baby left this world.

I wasn't sure what to say when you lost your child, so I just didn't talk to you, or maybe I just ignored the topic. Like ignoring you or ignoring the fact that your child died is going to make everything ok. Nothing hurts more than the loss. Anyone bringing up our angel or asking how we are doing isn't going to make us sad, cause we are already there-- 24/7. This is how we are now--living with the constant reality that our child has left this Earth before us, such an unnatural event.

I'm sorry that when you have a good day, you feel guilty. I'm sorry that when you laugh, sometimes it brings you to tears. I am sorry for it all, and please know that you are not alone. Keep on keeping on

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Momma with a Teaching Mission

Some days it's like I'm watching my own Lifetime movie. I can't take credit for that, as I was speaking with another bereaved mother today she said it, and I thought, she's so right. Have you ever sat and watched a Lifetime movie? I mean it's a guarantee cry session. I try to stay away from them, for obvious reasons. 

Death, heaven and Jesus have become incredibly real to my family. Tonight at bedtime, I was praying with the girls, and Alexa looked at me and said outta nowhere, "but Mommy, I can't take toys to heaven....but I have an idea. You can hold a babydoll and Katie can hold a babydoll and Daddy can hold a babydoll and I can hold a babydoll, and when we die, the babydolls will go to heaven with us!" She was so proud of herself for coming up with this plan of getting her toys into heaven.

I just sat there and held back tears and nodded. What do you say to that? After we got done praying, I walked out of their room with tearing streaming down my face. The fact that my 3 year old baby understands as much as she does about dying, and heaven, and being with Jesus---it is just too much for me to handle at times. 

I'm proud to say my relationship with Jesus has grown. But I can't help but feel sadness that it took this tragedy to bring me back to him. 

..............................

I was chatting with my mom the other day, and our conversations always turn to how we are coping, what we are dealing with, the things others are saying (we find comedy in that). 

I told her my complete thinking has changed. I mean not only do I think about Jayse constantly, but I think about who is this going to happen to next? Am I going to get another call that another one of my kids died?

Like I know it's ridiculous, and not right, and really crazy, but those are the thoughts that go through my mind. 

I used to think my parents divorce when I was 16 ruined my life. And my mom would say if the worst thing that ever happens in your life is our divorce, consider yourself darn lucky. 

And then I think how did I get here. Like have you ever been watching QVC or an infommerical, and been like, what the what am I watching?!??! Yea, I think that about my life.

I still check the pack 'n play before I go to bed and when I wake up. His swing is still in our living room, and my kids push the music button on it and put it into swing mode I don't know if this is normal, but then again a perfectly healthy 4 1/2 month old baby dying is not normal. 

Many days are hard. And when I say hard, you don't even understand. And I'm not saying that to lessen your circumstances or what life has thrown at you, because I'm sure in your own perspective, you are struggling...but until you've lost a child---you just can't understand the black hole of depression that consumes who you once were, and spits out this transformed being that the 'previous' you would never recognize.

I try to stay positive and upbeat. I pray, Lord knows how I pray. I've wondered if having another baby would help lessen this pain. Not that anything would ever replace Jayse, but this pain, it's dark, and incredible. I think I would do whatever it takes to relieve it. I feel like these past 3 months have passed me by. I feel guilty, so guilty, for going back to work after he was born and not spending every waking second of the 140 days that he was here with him. I just miss him, so incredibly much. 

Kiss on your babies cheeks. Hug on your young men and little ladies. Love them with all your being. 

And praise the Lord you are able to do so.

+++++++++++++++++++

My God is awesome, and when I feel these thoughts and overwhelming emotions, I turn to him. It eases my mind, my mind which was once scared sh**less about death, to think about spending all of eternity in heaven with Jesus and Jayse, and the rest of my family.  I feel that I need to be completely honest in these posts, if I'm going to share the good things with you, I also need to share the very real, and depressing things. 

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Momma with a Teaching Mission

 Dear Jayse,

Somehow minutes have turned into hours, which have turned into days. Those days turned into weeks, which turned into months. The blink of an eye turned into my entire summer, and before I knew it 100 days have passed me by.

We finished baseball season, and just like every other year, flag football and cheerleading have started, without much time off. The days are no longer scorching hot, the kind of hot that takes your breath away—but more like hot enough to be comfortable in shorts and a t-shirt. We went to finalize your grave stone today. Your foot stone is complete, and we decided how we wanted your headstone to look. I hope you like it.

I’ve read so much this summer. I’ve finished 3 books, and am in the process of reading 3 more. I don't think I've read this much since I was in middle school when I read R.L. Stine books, like nobodys' business! This is the first summer I haven’t taught summer school. I had planned to be off all summer, spending time with you, and your siblings. Enjoying you, watching you grow and change; but instead I’ve had to fill my days with busy-ness to avoid the void of your absence. 

I find myself thinking of your often. More than often. Every free second, of every day. Even during those occupied seconds I am supposed to be thinking of something else, you are constantly on my mind. The time I had with you, as well as what you would be doing if you were still alive. Crawling. Babbling. Saying Mama.

 

You changed my life. And not just because you are my kid. And not just because you died. You brought me back to Jesus. It was through your death, that I turned back to God and found strength in him. Because I have learned, that without God, and his truth, I would never be able to endure this journey of grieving you.

I am so far from perfect, but I am trying so hard to live in your honor. Every day is a battle to face the fact that you aren’t here. But then I think of you. Your smile, those dimples, that giggle. I love you more than anyone could ever understand, and the memories of our time together is what I cherish most.

I imagine by now you have all those angels wrapped around your little finger. I’m sure Nana and Grandma Mary have shown you off to everyone they know. And PapPap and Pappy John are telling you all kinds of stories! I know you’ve been helping out in heaven, because we’ve seen the rainbows and butterflies you’ve sent us.

I dream of the day when we will all be together again. My heart explodes at the thought of the joy I will feel.

  Until then,

    You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

    You make me happy, when skies are gray

  You never know dear, how much Mommy loves you

    Please don’t take Mommy’s sunshine away

    Mommy xxxx

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Momma with a Teaching Mission

So we were challenged this past Sunday by our pastor to share our "eye Witness" Story of my firsthand account of the risen Jesus. I've been thinking about this all week, and tried multiple times to log onto my blog to write it, but my computer couldn't find 'connectivity'--basically with my internet here at the house, you never know if it'll work or not. So all week I've been reading, watching other preachers' sermons, and thinking about my journey.

Before

I was raised in church. Christ Lutheran Church in Hagerstown, Maryland, I believe on Cleveland Ave. I attended Sunday School, youth group, I remember singing in the choir for a year or two. I remember learning about Jesus from a very early age. 

And then life happened, as it often does. Everything I knew changed, when I was around 16 my parents divorced. I knew Jesus was there in my life, but I turned away from him. And that's hard to admit. 

In my mind, I was living my life, having a good time, making moments count. But I was lost. At 20, I dropped out of college, moved home, and got pregnant. This was my first wake up call. Having my oldest son, Karter, changed my life. This ride I was on, carefree and full of sin, was no longer just about me. I now had this responsibility of another life. 

Fast forward a few years, I had met my hubs, had a few more kiddos and knew that we needed Jesus in our lives. I was raised in church, and wanted my children to be raised in church as well. We had a wonderful pastor at Hancock United Methodist, felt connected with him, with our church, and with God. Pastor Jensen baptized us, married us, and lead beautiful heart-felt sermons that spoke to me each week. 

But as things often do--life happens. Pastor Jensen got moved to another church. At this time, I was going back to school to finish my degree to become a teacher. I was working full-time, going to school, and raising 3 little people (and a hubs!). I was exhausted, to say the least. So when Pastor Jensen left, and not feeling the same connection with the new pastor, it was just too easy not to attend church regularly--or at all. 

Then

As many of you know, May 4, 2017 happened. My beautiful, healthy, surprise 5th child, at the age of 140 days (4 1/2 months) died, peacefully in his sleep. There was no rhyme or reason to his death. We live in a messed up world, full of sin--and often, unexplainable things happen. 

As we were waiting to be able to see our baby boy, before the coroner and the police officers took him away, I remember sitting in the ambulance with the local EMT and pastor that was on call. I'm not 100% sure of the exact wording of the pastor, but I think she said something to me of the effect that God doesn't give us more than we can handle, or everything happens for a reason. And I remember looking at her and saying---being a single mom was hard, and going back to school and finishing my degree was hard. But this? My son dying, was unimaginable and unfair--how would I ever get through this? 

I will never forgot, driving home that Friday May 5th, from the funeral home, sobbing, asking my husband--how are we ever going to get through this?

Now before I tell you how he answered, I have to tell you about my husband. He is amazing, seriously amazing. He didn't grow up in a church like I did. And to be honest, he agreed to start going to church years ago with me and the kids, but we never really talked about our faith or God or what he believed. So I never really knew where he stood with Jesus.

So back to that car ride, he looked at me and said, "Well I guess we have to turn toward God, and have faith that we will see Jayse again someday."

After

I mean wow, talk about a turning point for me. He was exactly right, and from that moment on, I was changed. I knew that with Jesus in our lives, we would endure this heartache. With the strength of Jesus, we would wake up each morning and rejoice in his promises. I would be lying if I said I still didn't question, if I still wasn't grieving my Jayses' death, if I said I was at peace with going forward with my life without him. 

But I can say that with the relationship I'm growing with God, he is giving me the strength to get through, to get by, and to go on. 

I've meant to write this in previous blog posts, but it always slips my mind. YOU are welcome to attend church with my family and I. YOU are welcome to e-mail or message me and I will pray for you. YOU are welcome to contact me and we can chat about whatever is on your heart 💙

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Momma with a Teaching Mission

80 days it has been. Every single one of them I've woken up hoping this was just some sort of dream, in which I was to learn a lesson. My life would be forever changed, I would learn my lesson, and get to go back 80 days ago and this terrible, horrible thing would have never happened.

When I wake up each morning, I immediately check the pack 'n play (which is still in our bedroom) to see if this nightmare is over. I think, today--today's going to be the day he's back. 

It's not, and I suppose I am starting to realize this is my new reality. 

Yes, luckily, I have pictures and videos of Jayse, 269 to be exact, but they will never be enough. I have a beautiful portrait drawn of Jayse in the dining room, and an amazing picture painted of the sun setting over the ocean with a rainbow in the sky, with his name written in it. I have pictures of Jayse plastered everywhere in our living room, his face is even on a blanket over my couch. In fact as I sit here, his eyes are looking back at me, from that blanket.

I have 'good' days and not so good days. Idle time is difficult. Being a passenger in a car is difficult. My mind constantly goes to Jayse. Even when I'm busy, I'm pre-occupied thinking about him. This is hard to describe to anyone that has never lost anyone.

And up until my grandfather died a few years back, I had never lost anyone. Then my grandmother died. With both of my grandparents, it was difficult, but it was also expected.  I knew one day they would pass. After their deaths, I missed them immensely. But losing Jayse has been completely and utterly different than that. Maybe because it is out of order for a parent to lose a child. Maybe because he wasn't sick, and he was perfectly healthy. Maybe because he truly changed me, being pregnant and having him softened my hard heart. He was my angel, here on Earth, in all aspects of that word--his life forever changed me, as well as his death is the reality that plays on repeat every second of every day.

I continue to pray for peace, and comfort, and guidance.  Know that you are not alone in your struggles, whatever they may be. Our God is there for us-- he loves us and cares about us. Matthew 5:4 says, Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. I have found great comfort in growing my relationship with God. My husband and I have been reading the Bible, as well as reading Draw a Circle by Mark Batterson, which is a 40 day prayer challenge. I have found comfort in praying and have felt God's love surround my family and I. 

This pain in my heart will forever be there, but the promises of our Lord is what get me through each and every day.

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Momma with a Teaching Mission

 Not every day is a horrible day. I'm just like you. We each are dealing with something, that is weighing on our hearts.

But in the past 75 days, there has been some silver linings. And I thought it was important to share those too. Because this grief thing, it's not all sad. I mean yes, it is sad. It's awful, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone, and I would do anything to change it, take it back, and have things not work out this way. But I don't have that option, so seeing the silver linings are a must. Or else I would drive myself crazy, and that doesn't help anyone (myself included).

There have been people come into my life in the past 2 months that I have been so thankful for. Some of these people I was just acquaintances with before, and now I consider them a friend. Some of these people have stood with me and been a listening ear for me in my darkest moments, a shoulder to cry on, or a text message away, and I am so and forever thankful to them. I have been truly blessed with amazing friendships that have blossomed, as well as been rekindled and I am so very thankful.

The past 2 months has brought my family closer. I am not proud of the fact that over the years, I have been hard headed and just down right impossible to get along with. But thankfully I have an amazing family that has shown me so much grace and been there for me as a sounding board, guiding words, and an example to me of what having faith looks like -- I have been changed by them, and I am forever grateful.

The past 2 months have been a roller coaster of emotions and feelings toward God. I've questioned, begged, pleaded, and prayed daily. Many people don't understand. They don't have to. We are all on our own journey, and we all have to get right with the Lord. You may not understand me or my faith or my realtionship with God, and that's ok. I just hope that through me and my relationship, you can get inspired to have a relationship with our Holy Father as well.

The thing is, here lately, I was starting to question, was I saved? Was I going to see Jesus and experience heaven and get to hold my baby again? In church, our pastor has been preaching about getting saved, and if you think or question if you're saved, you need to have a conversation. So I had that conversation this week with one of the great pastors at our church(who is another silver lining to all this). I have gone to church for as long as I can remember. I've always believed in Jesus, and that he is the son of God, and that he died for our sins, and that we are all sinners. But I still worried that I wasn't currently on the right track to getting into heaven someday. I just wanted to make sure, I wanted to have someone tell me YOU'RE GOOD, YOU'RE IN, HERE'S A STAMP OR A TICKET, YOU'RE ON THE LIST! But that's not how it goes. Only I (and Jesus) know what is in my heart, but I will tell you that having that conversation with my pastor this week laid the foundation to the peace I have felt. The past 7 days I feel like I have been pointed into the direction God sees fit for me and I know that I have been saved. 

At night, I pray with my children. I have done this for as long as I've had children, so about 12 years. Before that I prayed by myself, in bed, right before drifting off to sleep. And as long as I can remember, I have prayed the same prayer. I have prayed for God to use me to reach to others. I have prayed for him to show me the way and I told him that I would do the work. I feel like that prayer is now unfolding, as I hope to continue to reach out and give others hope.

The past 75 days have been a relentless torment to go on and to keep on keeping on. But I've never been a quitter. As long as there in breath in my body I will continue to sing the praises of our God. It is because of him, and his promise, that I will live eternally in heaven with him, and my Jayse again.

There's always a silver lining, you just have to be willing to look.

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Momma with a Teaching Mission

So I've started this post a few times, but the reality is, I couldn't find anything meaningful to say, that I thought would help others. So I just didn't write anything. Well I didn't just NOT write anything. I typed random thoughts, in hopes that my struggles and questions would help you with whatever you may be dealing with.

This week was probably the hardest week since Jayse left this world. The 4th of July marked 2 months since Jayses' death. And this week will be the 15th--which he would be turning 7th months. I feel like I've said this before, but everything has felt foggy up until the last week or so. And the reality that this isn't just some terrible nightmare is really starting to set in.

He should be sitting up unassisted, starting to say his first words, crawling or scooting, have a few teeth, eating all new things. But he's not. I didn't want to be depressing in this post, but, this is me and how I've been feeling. I cry. I feel my children look at me like is she going to cry? Is she alright? Should I ask her if she's ok? And if they do ask me I snap--no I'm not alright. Which I know isn't how I should react to their concern, cause when some Random Stranger asks me if I'm alright I politely respond, I'm great. Which we all know is a lie.

So far this summer has been filled with running kids to camps and ball practices. All star games and baton twirling parades. I am thankful to be super busy. It helps keep my mind engaged on other things. But every time I see a baby, I immediately try to guess (to myself) how old they are. Then I think, is that what Jayse would be doing right now? Would he have that much hair? Would he be chattering?

This wasn't supposed to happen. My healthy, chunky baby wasn't supposed to die. My surprise baby that I was so thrilled and excited to be expecting last year at this time, he was still supposed to be here.

I knew the time-hop reminder was coming. The notification on my Facebook on time-hop popped up. Yesterday time-hop showed me my post from a year ago, when I announced to the Facebook community that SURPRISE--we were going to have another baby. That was like the gut punch to the end of a really crappy week.

I think of myself as a decent human being. But I often wonder, what did I do to deserve this?

I would trade my life for his, but not just that---I would trade your life for his. I would absolutely do anything to have him back. To kiss his little cheeks. to snuggle him and love on him, just to spend one more minute with him. 

I hang on to God's promises that I will see him again. That's what get me through the day. That's what gets me up in the morning. I have constant reminders that Jayse is spending eternity in heaven, waiting for me, and the rest of his family to arrive.

💙💙💙💙Blessings to you and the trials you are facing, you are not alone xoxo💙💙💙💙

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Momma with a Teaching Mission

So one would think in today's day and age of technology and word of mouth, and of course not living in THAT big of a community, people would know things about others from their past.

I mean I guess I don't know EVERY detail about people I went to High School or College with, but I would think I would have heard about the big things. Maybe that's me being self-centered or naive, or giving a darn about what's going on in others' lives (being nosy as my hubs calls it), but I guess I just assumed everyone that I knew, heard that my youngest passed away.

I live about 45 minutes from my hometown of Smithsburg, Maryland where I was born and raised. I haven't lived there for about 10 years. I have TONS of friends on social media that I knew 'back in the day', so surely you would think that the one girl I ran into tonight, would have some where along the way, heard that Melanie Whitt's baby died.

But nope. There I was, doing my good deed, volunteering in the concession stand for the 9-10's all-star baseball game tonight, when the overwhelming reality happened, again.

 I was working the fryer, just dumped some fries into their tray, when I heard the customer ask how many chicken tenders came in an order. I yelled up, "There's 2 in an order" and the customer said, "Are you Melanie?!?!?!" As she put her sunglasses on top of her face, I could see who it was, a girl I played volleyball with at the local community college. We exchanged pleasantries and I went on about my frying. Really, I thought to myself, Thank GOD she didn't say anything about Jayse. I mean, I really enjoy talking about him, and remembering him, but when I talk to someone who is from my past, that I haven't talked to in literally 15 years, the conversation about my deceased son tends to become a bit awkward.

SO I thought I had gotten off scott free, when she returned again, this time getting a drink for her young children, she asked, "Do you just have the one"--referring to my son, because I had him shortly after attending the community college--and that she knew about. I feel like at this moment time paused. I thought to myself, for what seemed like 10 minutes, how should I answer her. 

I mean I could of said, "Four" and leave it at that. I wouldn't have to go into detail about Jayse and that fact that he died. And no, I have no idea how he died or why he died or what caused it or if it could have been prevented, or was I breastfeeding, or smoking, or was he born prematurely -- I could get out of having to answer all those questions. Suffocating questions. Overwhelming questions. Awkward questions.

I didn't say four. I swallowed, took a deep breath, felt the tears welling up in my eyes, and I said, "I have five. Three boys and two girls." I could feel myself start to cry, as the tears rolled down, and I added, "But my youngest son passed, he was 4 1/2 months old." She immediately apologized for my loss, and said she couldn't believe that. We chatted for a few more minutes, and come to find out, she had been praying for me, although she didn't know it was me--Melanie (Whitt) Ebersole--that she was praying for, a mutual friend asked her to pray for a family that had lost a baby. 

After she walked away, and after I got home, exhausted physically and emotionally, I thought and thought about my decision about telling my old friend about him. For me, Jayse was here. He was real. I loved him physically for 140 days here on Earth, I will love him for all eternity until I'm reunited with him again in Heaven. Saying I have 4 children may be easier, but it's not me. I've always been about being true and real to myself--and for me, I will always say five.

💙💙💙💙 Keep on keeping on. You got this. One foot in front of the other. 💙💙💙💙

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Momma with a Teaching Mission

So Momma RobbieRob got me a fit bit for my birthday the other week. I know, I know I am late to the fit bit step challenge phenomena, I mean people have had these things for a couple years or so, right?! I'm always late to the cool gadget games. But better late than never ;)

So I've been working hard to keep up with my family members--my dad, mom, sister, brother, sis-in-law, even one of my kids, pretty much everyone!! So with all this walking and jogging (haha), I've noticed at night when I go to relax on the couch and watch my 'teenage shows'--as my hubs calls them--, I notice my knee starts flaring up. Pains will just shoot through it. I had my ACL repaired back when I was 19, they had to replace my ACL with a cadaver ACL--I have a pretty awesome scar from it--that stretches a whole 2 inches long on my knee cap--, but I notice when I'm really active, and then I go to relax, my knee will just ache.

In fact, as I'm sitting here typing this, I have my knee propped up with two couch pillows underneath it. Now my 19 year old self, would laugh and say, "Really Melanie? Don't you think that's a little much? Aren't you being a bit dramatic? Get up, let's go." And because I'm only 15 years removed from my 19 year old self (WOWZAs! how did I get to be 34), I still get up and get moving.

In fact, as long as I keep moving, I don't notice the aching and pain so much. Tonight, as I was making my circles around the baseball fields as my son was practicing, I thought, "Well, as long as I keep moving, it's not so bad. It's not aching right now." 

It's been a pretty rough couple days, and not just because I have old arthritic bones. June 15th Jayse would have been 6 months, and that same day marked 6 weeks since his death. But that Thursday, June 15th, I was alright, having a pretty good day. The days that followed, were just crappy. I know I'll have bad days. We all have bad days. The pain in my heart just aches constantly. 

Before losing a child, I always felt so sorry for those women (and men) that lost a kid. But really, I had no idea. You can't. You can't understand what parents that have lost a child are dealing with. There's nothing like it.

The only way I can somewhat describe--in the smallest way--  to someone who has never lost a child--

That aching that you may feel in your knee, or maybe your shoulder, or a hip. It's there, constantly. When you get up in the morning. As you get in your car. Arriving to work. Walking your dog. Picking up your nephew. Getting the mail. Making dinner. Kneeling to pray. Climbing in bed.

That constant pain, that something isn't right, a piece of you is forever changed. The aching. Some meds may dull that pain, but nothing fully takes it away.

So I just keep on moving. I read. I pray. I knit. I write. I pray. I play with my kids. I go to their practices and games. Oh Lord do I pray. If I didn't do these things, I wouldn't be able to get out of bed in the morning. I wouldn't be able to face the day. But as long as I keep on moving, that aching in my heart and the pain is still there, but I just don't notice it as much.

💙💙💙💙 Keep on keeping on. You got this. One foot in front of the other. 💙💙💙💙
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Momma with a Teaching Mission

Today's my birthday--34 years ago I was born into this world. I was blessed with an amazing family. I have lived and laughed, sinned and been saved. So on today, I wanted to share some serious, and not so serious things that I've learned in these 34 years.

People is crazy (me included)

I'm just stating the obvious here, but people are nuts. You have to either love 'em or ignore 'em. The saying goes we all have that one crazy aunt, but the truth is, you know at one point in your life, you were that crazy bitch. I'm gonna tell ya something, I was crazy---my husband would say that I still am. But I think it's ok to be a little crazy. It keeps things interesting, and real. To give you some insight, when my husband and I were dating, my ringtone when I would call him was Crazy Bitch by Buckcherry :) I'm sure there were quite a few people (and still are) that thought I was nuts, and they either loved me or ignored me. Years ago, I worked as a waitress. One of my favorite jobs in fact, you encounter all kinds of crazies coming in to order food. I'll never forget the first crazy I encountered as an 18 year old waitress. He was an older man, probably 65ish. During a busy lunch rush, he said to me, "Let me tell you a joke that'll knock the tits off of you......wait a minute, you've already heard it." Well, first of all, it took me a minute to even understand his joke, as I had about 10 tables I was serving--with my mind running in many different directions. As I walked away, I comprehended his idiotic joke, and realized he was insulting me, calling me flat-chested. Oh my ward---you would have thought my dog died, I cried and cried. I was so embarrassed and then of course angry that I let someone talk to me that way. And it wasn't until years later that I realized some people are just plum crazy. They have no manners, or sense for that matter. They don't care if they offend you, or maybe they don't even realize that they are offending you. It's not always easy to let their rude remarks slide off your back, but chalking up their idiocy to the fact that people is crazy helps to not take their comments so personally.  

Time goes by, way too fast

Before you know it, you're gonna have a 12 year old. You're gonna have aching bones. Your Saturday nights are going to be spent cuddling mini-yous on your couch. You are going to start wondering why you wasted so much time. So much time. Sleep truly becomes over-rated. Yes I'd love to take a nap, but then it comes down to take a nap or play Kan-Jam with my kids--my kids aren't going to be kids forever. And in a few short years, they'll be driving and doing Lord knows what. Cherish these moments, whatever they may be for you. Live in the moment. I am so guilty of having my phone out, not being fully present. That is something I'm working on. Somehow I have these big kids--12, 9, 7-- and I have no earthly idea how time has passed and they got this big. Sure I have photographs to remember them as little ones, but dealing with their attitudes and big kids problems---often times I ask, Lord how did I get here? And then there's my 3 year old--she brings back so many memories of when the older ones were that young, and I'm blessed to really be able to cherish her antics and crazy questions, and her sweet hugs and Mommy I love you's. I had Jayse for 4 1/2 months, 140 days to be exact. When you think about the number 140, it sounds rather large. But thinking about only having 140 days to spend with someone, your child---that is not nearly enough time. Those 140 days went by so fast. Luckily, knowing he was our last, I did cherish him. I loved being pregnant with him, and I love every aspect of his life here on Earth--snuggling, changing his diaper, feeding him, even those mid-night feedings. I took in every single second. Like every other event, I never expected it to end. As Buddha said, "The trouble is, you think you have time."

There are no coincidences

Ok, so how many times have you heard, "oh it's such a small world" or "what a coincidence"?  Dictionary.com defines coincidence as "a striking occurrence of two or more events at one time apparently by mere chance." No. I don't believe in chance. I have always been a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. When I had my oldest son Karter, as a single parent, I struggled to understand why I had to endure the heartache that I did. I was a good kid, raised in a good home, why did this happen to me?  What had I done to deserve this? It wasn't until a few years later when I met Chris, did I understand that although he is not Karters' biological father, he is the only father Karter has ever known. If I wouldn't have had Karter, I may have never went to work where I did, where I met Chris. We would have never gotten married and had 4 more children. The death of Jayse, I haven't been able to accept as easily. This will be an event I struggle with, that my family struggles with, for the rest of our lives. I play the events of that Thursday, and the days prior, over and over again in my head. Could this have been prevented? What did I do to deserve this? Why did this happen to me? One of the verses' that I've clung to the most in the past month has been John 13:7 "Jesus replied, 'You don't understand now what I am doing, but someday you will." I will never understand while after being our surprise baby, why he was taken away from me, after only getting to have him here for 4 1/2 months---at least I won't understand while I'm here on Earth. I believe at Jayse's funeral I said that I rejoice in knowing that someday we will be reunited--and knowing that that someday God will reveal his plans to me. Until then, I believe there is a rhyme and reason for all the things that happen to all, and all the people that he puts into our lives. We all have a purpose and a path, nothing happens by mere chance or coincidence.

Live Out Loud
Now maybe this is my 'crazy' coming out, but you only get one life. Sing loud, eat the cake, do what makes you happy! You're only 21, or 34, or 56 once. Every minute, week, year that goes by--you're not going to get it back. We are only getting older, and here's a secret---you aren't going to get out of this life alive. When you hear your favorite song from 1996 on the radio, crank it up and sing it! You love that bright, loud, extravagant Lularoe top---buy it! You feel yourself being pulled to what you were meant to do---do everything in your power to make it happen! You wanna put some purple in your hair, by all means, do it! Life isn't easy, it's downright hard, sucks even at times. But that doesn't mean that you can't enjoy those moments that make you happy. And yes--I sing those 90s rap songs WAYYY too loud, buy all those crazy Lularoe tops, I am doing what I love (after having 3 of my children I went back to school and made my dream a reality), and I even had my hair purple at one point. I've wasted so much time, but I like to think I've also made a lot of memories and at times lived out loud. These next 34 or more years, I'm going to be sure to live even more so 💙

Love Never Fails

In all seriousness, when you think you've tried everything. Try love. I was not in a good place a year ago. I had so much resentment and downright hatred built up towards certain members of my family. And why? To be honest, I'm not sure. I couldn't tell you. That hatred that I had in my heart consumed a lot of me.  When I found out I was pregnant with Jayse, and after he was born, I could feel myself starting to change. I was trying to let go of that hatred and anger, but it wasn't until Jayses' death can I say that I truly let go and let love in. Don't let hate consume you, let that resentment and anger go--and love. Don't wait for a tragic event, like the death of a loved one to change your heart.

💙💙💙💙Sending all my blessing 💙💙💙💙

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Momma with a Teaching Mission

I recently had a conversation with a friend about how things seem to be going well. She said she saw on Instagram and Facebook all the fun things my family had been doing. She, like many others, said she couldn't imagine what I had gone through, and was surprised at how 'well' I was taking the loss of my son.

Well, I let her finish talking. I didn't interrupt. She really had no earthly idea what I have been through these past 36 days, but could I blame her? She's never lost a close loved one, let alone her own flesh-and-blood child that she carried for 9 months.

She really has no idea that I don't have a choice. I mean I guess I do. I guess I could choose to be a hermit and not shower. Or maybe choose to home-school my kids and pull them from any activities to try to prevent anything from happening to them. Or maybe just choose to lash out and curse God and all that is good.

But really, what would I be teaching my other 4 children -- when life gets hard, throw in the towel? Run and hide? Cower in fear? If anything, losing Jayse has brought me closer to God. This whole nightmare has shown me the power of prayer. The power in turning to God--giving him your pain, hopes, fears, worries. Praying for strength and comfort. I know so many people have prayed for me, my family, and Jayse. We have felt the prayers. I don't know how I could have gotten through the past 5 weeks without the prayers of my those praying.

I turned to my friend, and I said

Girl, first of all---you know those pictures you see are my highlights! There are twice as many moments that are filled with sadness or anger than those that are filled with laughter and happiness. But I'm working on that. Giving God my anger and sadness, praying about it. Praying through it. I find comfort in reading. Reading grief books, Reading prayer books, reading the bible. I find comfort in writing about it as well. But those pictures you see on facebook or instagram are certainly NOT the day to day moments, cause I struggle! Heck, we all struggle. Yes, most haven't had to deal with the tragedy of burying a child, but that doesn't change that we ALL struggle. I haven't cooked since Jayse died. We've eaten fast food, eaten at restaurants, or eaten already prepared foods. And my house--oh my, it is a mess! Right after Jayse was born, I was in the process of re-doing our living room--which got about 3/4s finished. But since he died, all that has gone by the wayside (for now). I'm sure visitors have thought--holy moly, these people live like this?!? But, ya know what, this is real world. This is my life. I'm FARRRRR from perfect--my house, my kids, my life. I'm a mess. But I'm ok with that, and I know God's ok with that, because he loves me. He loves our hot messes.


Our God is an awesome God. His promises and love for us is astounding. There's no other choice than to give the remainder of my life here on Earth to him. He died on that cross for you and me so that we could live with him for all eternity. I know Jayse is there, and I know I will be there too. That day will be glorious. But until then, I'm going to continue to sing the praises of our God, in hopes that others will turn to him in their times of grief.

And just remember, those highlight reels that we post, are snapshots of moments in time we are proud of---but those moments go hand-in-hand with the struggling hot mess moments that we don't snap pictures of, but maybe we should ;) 

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Momma with a Teaching Mission