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.
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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