So now what?

Max is in heaven.  Okay...so what am I supposed to do now?  Max was pretty much my whole life.  Yes, I have three other children to care for, but they are independent compared to my sweet Max.  He needed my attention all day long.  I fed him, bathed him, changed him, held him...all day.  Now what?  My older three kids are in school and I am a stay at home Mom with no children to care for. 

I remember the first time we took trash out after Max died.  Aaron emptied the Diaper Genie, and I wept.  It was the very last time I would see my son's stinky, messy diapers.  Who would have thought I would treasure such a thing...but I hated to see them go.  Oh, and the laundry.  There's always a ton of laundry to do in my house.  The girls change three times a day.  But I was very aware when I was doing Max's last load of laundry.  His last load...he would be dirtying no more clothes.  It makes me cry now to think of it.  I would give anything short of my soul to have another dirty diaper and a load of Max's clothes. 

Even though I only had Max a short while.  He has left an enormous hole in my heart.  I don't know how to be the wife and mother I once was.  I sit in my house and I think I hear him.  I've been tempted to tell the kids to "Quiet down!  You are going to wake your brother!"  I remember his smiling face in every room.

I used to sit and feed him on the left hand side of the couch and watch TV during the day.  Mabry used to fight me for that spot all the time.  It was her little joke...I called her "Mabry the spot stealer."  Max and I would try to work our way into "our spot", she would try to block us from sitting.  It was our regular routine.  Now, I can't sit there without thinking of Max.  I don't even like to be in the living room.  But it's my home...where am I supposed to go?  What am I supposed to do? 

One of our parish priests mentioned to us that he imagined our lives to be complete chaos after Max's death.  He imagined Max to be the center of our lives...the sun to our solar system.  He was right.  When you have a small baby, your entire lives and schedules revolve around that tiny human.  Feeding schedules, diaper changes, naps and wake times dictate the lives of everyone else in the house.  Then suddenly our "sun" has vanished.  Everyone, especially Mom, is left wondering what to do. 

This got me thinking.  The sun in the solar system keeps everything else going.  My other three children, my husband could become my center again.  But what if I lose them too? What could become my center that would always be a constant?  Who will always be there for me no matter what?  The answer was crystal clear.  God.  God will always be there for me.  God will never leave me.  He has got to be the center.

Another priest that we are close to always talks about making "Jesus the center".  I always understood it as the "center of your heart"...think about Him, pray to Him, love Him.  But now, I believe it has to be more.  I need to make Jesus the center of my universe.   I need to yearn for Him.  I need to live this life everyday with the intention of pleasing Him.  All the earthly materials, possessions and worries are temporary.  The relationships we build are important, but they are not the most important.  I have to plant my feet on this Earth, but keep my eyes fixed strongly on heaven and on Jesus.  This is the only way to keep order in life. 

It's not easy to live this way.  Our American culture contradicts it.  Turn on the TV, flip through a magazine or read the headlines on the internet.  You can easily find out how to lose weight, how to look younger, how to earn money or save money.  We are bombarded with sex, politics, money, etc.  It's disheartening.  My job is to get to heaven.  I have to turn my back on this world and look to the next.  How I look, what I have...will not matter.  How I love - that's how I'll be judged.  I firmly believe that being a "good person" isn't enough.  My definition of "good" may be different than yours, but more importantly, it may be different than God's.  I have to do more than "be good", I am going to commit my life to knowing Him, loving Him and serving Him.  It may not be the popular thing to do, but I am choosing to make God my center. 

"Christ said, "I am the Truth", he did not say "I am the custom."-St. Toribio

Let your thoughts be on things above, not on the things that are on the earth -Colossians 3:2

That is why you must kill everything in you that is earthly: sexual vice, impurity, uncontrolled passion, evil desires and especially greed, which is the same thing as worshipping a false god -Colossians 3:5

Heaven Waits...

For years, I would pray, "Please keep my children, husband and all my family safe, smart, beautiful and healthy." (pretty specific...I know)  Over the last couple years, for whatever reason, my prayer changed.  It was no longer "keep them safe", but "your will be done".  I felt like I could handle whatever came my way if I knew it was truly God's will...not Satan's, not something caused by human irresponsibility, but truly God's will. 

I don't know that God willed this to happen to us, but I know He allowed it to happen. The day Max was conceived...heck, the day I was conceived, God knew this would happen to Max. He knew, and He didn't change the plan. 

I believe God answers prayers with the eternal soul in mind.  The earthly prayers we have are trivial.  He is concerned with our souls.  It's hard to imagine an infinite God...a God that always was, and always will be.  Our human minds can't comprehend His greatness.  You can't cut Him in half.  You can't see a fraction of Him.  He is infinite.  No mathematician could figure Him out.  To Him, time is irrelevant.  His goal is to bring souls to Him...whether they are five months old or 100 years old.  To God, both five months and 100 years occur in the blink of an eye. 

It makes me feel better to know that everyone, regardless of their age now, will one day die.  It's not like some people will be spared.  We are all going to die.  I can honestly say, for the first time in my life, I am not afraid to die.  Death truly has no power over me.  Of course, I want to live for my remaining family, but scared to die?  No.  Father Maximilian Kolbe said, "It's not death I am afraid of, but sin."  Yes!  My sentiments exactly.  Death doesn't kill us, sin does!  Genius!  My Max was sinless.  I find peace with that too. 

When we first lost Max, I had such a strong desire to go to heaven. A strong desire to hold my son, a strong desire to see my son...to kiss him. I wanted to be with him so badly! I knew I had to stay away from sin because the last thing I wanted to do was threaten my journey into heaven. I want to be reunited with Max as soon as I take my last breath. But it occurred to me, isn't this what I am supposed to be feeling all along. Shouldn't I have a strong desire to be in heaven, not to see Max, but to see Jesus? Shouldn't I fear sin because I don't want to offend my Creator?

I used to be amazed when old people would say they were ready to die.  I didn't understand it.  How can you be ready to die?  You have no idea what waits for you...at least you know what life on Earth is like.  Now, I get it.  Sometimes, the only thing that keeps me going is the knowledge that I will one day die.  It sounds morbid, I know, but because Jesus resurrected, I no longer have a reason to fear death.   I always heard this.  I always believed this, but now I actually live it.  Death has no hold over me.  Death no longer has a hold over Max.  It really is a gift.  It's a hard pill to swallow...the death of my son being a gift...but truly, in the grand scheme of eternity...Max is safe and he has brought us closer to our Almighty God.  What  a gift! 

"Whether, therefore, we receive what we ask for, or do not receive it, let us still continue steadfast in prayer.  For to fail in obtaining the desires of our heart, when God so wills it; for we know not as He does what is profitable to us." -St. John Chrysostom

"Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road broad that leads to destruction, and those who enter through it are many.  How narrow the gate and constricted the road that leads to life.  And those who find it are few." -Matthew 7:13-14

"You don't have a soul.  You are a soul.  You have a body." -C.S. Lewis

It's Not Fair!!!

Initially, my gut reaction is to yell out, "This isn't fair!"  I see babies everywhere.  I see mothers who are selfish, who don't act out of love for their children...yet they have them alive.  Why?  But then I am hit with the reality.  No, it's not fair.

Life isn't fair.  It was never promised to me that life would be fair.  If life were fair, I wouldn't be living in this nice stone house while a student I know just down the road is living in a shack with no furniture.  That's not fair.  If life were fair, I wouldn't get to lie down next to my husband every night while many others are still searching for their soul mate.  If life were fair, I wouldn't get to kiss my three remaining children every night while countless couples struggle to conceive.  My children go to bed every night with a full belly while numerous other children will have to go to bed with a grumbling tummy.  No...life isn't fair, but haven't I been blessed in so many ways. 

Several years ago, I spoke to a group of people about my faith journey.  And I began by telling them about how truly blessed I was.  I had never endured any extraordinary heartache.  I had no tragedy to speak of...I lived a blessed life.  So many other women have dealt with rape, molestation, adultery, abuse, addiction; the list goes on and on.  At that time, I should have been asking "why me?"  Why do I get to live such a great life?  Instead, I ask it now. 

We want to know "why?"  Why us?  Why Max?  We do our best to be faithful Christians.  Why us?  A favorite priest of ours told us about a woman he saw on TV who had asked herself the same questions many times.  In prayer, she came to her conclusion. "If not you, then who?"

I liked this.  We know bad stuff happens every day in our crazy world.  So if not you, then who?  I know it doesn't answer the question of why this has to happen to anyone, but it does answer why us? 

I think it's a huge misconception that we have when we believe that most people get through this life without suffering.  We tend to think that the majority of people will live out their lives with very little heartache.  One thing I have learned is that everyone has a story.  What appears perfect from the outside, very rarely is.  Just because someone has a picture perfect life at the moment, doesn't mean they always will.  You never know what your future holds.  That statement rings true for everyone.  So, there's no reason to be jealous.  My journey is my own.  It was chosen for me.  I will take my suffering..and offer it up.  Pick up my cross...and walk. 

Our faith is strong.  Our faith is true.  God knows what we need and He will not leave us alone.  Who am I? Who am I to question a plan that I never understood in the first place? God knows so much more than we can comprehend...He gives us what we need to know in order to get us where we are going. 

Death IS evil.  But Jesus conquered it and one day I will be able to thank Him face to face. 

 

"The more we are afflicted in this world, the greater is our assurance in the next; the more sorrow in the present, the greater will be our joy in the future." -St. Isadore of Seville

 

"Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple." -Luke 14:27

Surprise!

Two weeks had passed since we lost Max.  Aaron decided it was time for him to go back to work.  The kids were still staying with their grandparents.  I was at home alone.  As can be expected, I wasn’t feeling like myself.  I had been on an emotional roller coaster, and my body was responding.  I decided to take a pregnancy test…just to ease my mind.  I fully expected for it to come back negative.  It didn’t.

I stared at the positive pregnancy test with disbelief.  My tears started flowing.  I had just lost my baby.  Now, another was growing in my body.  There are no words that describe the shock I was feeling at that moment. 

I gained my composure and called Aaron.  I asked him to come home for lunch.  He was worried about leaving me at home alone.  He could tell that I was upset.  So he didn’t wait for lunch, he came home right away.

I was lying in the bed, still holding the pregnancy test when he walked in.  He laid down next to me.  He asked if I was alright…I nodded, yes.  With tears in my eyes, I showed him “the big news”.  It took him a second to realize what it was, but once he did, he smiled.  We hugged…I cried.

 

I wasn’t sad to be pregnant, I was confused.  At that time, I had just lost a child who I thought was perfectly healthy.  Why would God take one, just to give me another?  Before I took that pregnancy test, my world didn’t make any sense.  Finding out I was pregnant only added to the chaos.  How was I supposed to feel?  What was I supposed to think?

I couldn’t look at a baby without feeling uneasy.  I certainly wasn’t able to hold and care for one.  Would these nine months change me?  Would I be able to be a good mother to this baby?  Ready or not…I was pregnant.  A baby would be coming in February.  God was in control and I had to trust Him. 

Although I had delivered my first four children in the local hospital, with the same doctor, I felt I needed a change.   I just couldn’t go back to the same exact room where I had just delivered Max.  So I discreetly asked around and found a doctor in the city, an hour from our home.   

Once we found out about Max’s heart condition, we learned that it could possibly be genetic.  Our other children and our unborn baby were at risk as well.  Our three children had echocardiograms to detect for hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, all came back normal.  Thank God!   As for our unborn baby…we would have to wait until I was a little further along to perform any diagnostic tests on him. 

We didn’t share our news with anyone for a long time.  We told our parents once we were thirteen weeks along.  We asked them to keep it a secret.  We just weren’t ready for everyone to know. 

At our twenty week appointment, we had an ultrasound.  With Max, we didn’t find out what we were having.  We looked forward to being surprised.  With this baby however, I felt I couldn’t handle any more surprises.  I knew the birth of this baby was going to be emotional enough.  So when the ultrasound technician asked if we’d like to know the sex, we said yes, and it took her half a second to say “it’s a boy!”  Aaron grabbed my hand and with tears in my eyes, I smiled.  I had a feeling we were having a boy.  At that moment, I was so happy…true happiness. 

It was time to tell our children and let others know that we were expecting another boy.  The kids were so excited.  There was no way they were going to keep it a secret.  They had questions…would he look like Max?  Would he act like Max?  Would he die early?...the same questions I had. 

I'm sure that many people questioned our intentions when we got pregnant so quickly after losing Max, believing we were trying to replace him.  That simply was not the case.  We were surprised by this new life, and we knew that no matter how much this baby reminded us of Max...they were not the same.  I could have one hundred children, but one would always be missing.  I didn't believe this new baby would make everything good again, but maybe he was sent to help us heal.  I didn't understand God's will, but I was thankful for this new baby boy, Madden James. 


The human mind plans the way, but the Lord directs the steps. -Proverbs 16:9

"The secret of happiness is to live moment by moment and to thank God for all that He, in His goodness, sends to us day after day." -St. Gianna Molla

Heartbroken

A nagging, numbness...that never goes away.  It's always there.  Every minute, every second.  It's on my mind.  It's not like I am thinking about it all day trying to solve a problem, or trying to figure it out.  It's not even worry...it's just a thought in the front of my mind, all day, every day...Max.  Maaaxxx!  Max!  Max? Max Kolbe...?!?  It's painful.  It literally hurts my heart.  Heart...broken.  But strangely, I really don't want the pain to go away.  It's all I have left of my beautiful baby boy. 

Everyone wants to help.  Everyone wants me to be happy again.  I've heard all the advice...see a counselor, take some medication, have a drink.   Uggghhhh...or the worst, "time will heal".  Really?!?  I lost my child.  You don't heal from this.  I'm just trying to learn to live with it.  But heal?  No. 

Then there's people who say nothing.  My loss makes many people uncomfortable.  People I have known all my life don't know what to say...don't know how to act.  I just keep reminding myself that everyone has good intentions. 

So what do I do now?  The only answer I come up with...is pray.  I pray.  I cry and I pray.  There is definite physical pain that comes with losing a child.  It's no mystery to me why people talk about their heart breaking.  My heart actually, physically hurts.  I imagine that my heart was broken into a million pieces that night.  So now I have this three dimensional puzzle...a heart puzzle that needs to be put back together.  It's a million pieces, there's no directions, no picture to look at, no edges to get me started, but I have to put it back together.  And I can't do it alone.  

People always say, "God won't give you more than you can handle."  I don't believe that.  I think God won't give you more than HE can handle.  I am definitely not strong enough to deal with this loss by myself.  Any strength I appear to have, comes directly from God himself. 

I read somewhere that in the beginning stages of grief, it's kind of like a painted wall.  If you look at a large painted wall with its trim, in the beginning, your grief is the large wall and your joy is the small trim.  But as time passes, the two become reversed...more joy than grief.  I mentioned this to my husband, and he already feels that he has more joy than grief.  I'm glad for him, but I am the complete opposite.  I imagine a huge mansion, with no windows.  And I am sitting inside in the dark, surrounded by grief.  The only light/joy coming in is through one small peep hole.  But I don't even want to look at it.  I want my grief.  I want my pain.  It's all I have left.  I am sure this will change with time, but right now, this is where I am. 

It's hard for me to be around people who are joyful.  It's not that I want them to be sad, but it just makes me very aware of how little my son's death actually means to the rest of the world.  Shortly after Max's death, we were supposed to go to a family wedding, a wedding shower, a vacation.  We cancelled on all of them.  I don't want to be around people celebrating life.  The moments I appear happy are fake moments.  It's very unnatural for me to smile.  I cannot fake my way for too long, around too many people.  So I take the safe road....stay at home. 

I do what I need to do...for my children, for my husband.  I love them all so much and whatever I can do to make them happy, I want to do.  But my love for them doesn't lessen the pain in my heart. 

I just want you to know that my faith doesn't make this easy for me.  Faith doesn't take away my sadness and make me magically happy.  My relationship with God hasn't healed me of my grief.  But, my faith has given me hope.  My faith has given me a light at the end of the tunnel.  As much as I am hurting today, I know that one day I will hurt no more.  One day, there will be nothing but joy for me.  One day, I'll see my son again, and all will be well.  I am not strong.  I am not inspirational.  I am no different than you.  I am just thankful for my faith...I believe in heaven, and I look forward to it. 

 

"In my estimation, all that we suffer in the present time is nothing in comparison with the glory which is destined to be disclosed for us" -Romans 8:18

 

"For Jesus Christ, I am prepared to suffer still more." -St. Maximilian Kolbe

 

 



I am so thankful...

It's so easy for us to feel sorry for ourselves.  If we allowed ourselves to, we could become very angry.  But that's not what is going to help us get through this. 

God speaks to us in so many different ways every single day.  We just need to choose to listen.  Mother Theresa did an examination of conscience every night.  Besides just making a mental note of the sins committed during the day, she made a mental checklist of the times she saw God.  When did she see His work?  When did she feel His presence?  Where did she see His gifts?  She saw some of the worst situations in the world, yet she was always joyful.  She chose to see God. 

When tragedy strikes, it is hard to see any good in the situation.  But it is there.  I firmly believe that God didn't will this tragedy to happen in our family, He allowed it.  I think he grieves with us at the loss of our son, just as Jesus wept over the death of Lazarus.  But this is a world of sin...bad things happen. 

May 18th was a horrible day in our family...to say the least.  But looking back,  I can see God's hand guiding us. 

1.  Aaron and I were together. 

I was supposed to be alone with all four kids that weekend.  I am so thankful that I did not have to go through this by myself.  Thankfully, Aaron's dad hurt his back, they cancelled the fishing trip and Aaron spent the weekend with us.  Max could have had his fatal heart attack at any time.  I am so glad that Aaron was with us when it happened. 

2.    We were with Max. 

We considered leaving Max with my in-laws for the weekend.  Aaron made the decision to take Max with us based on one little smile.  I am so thankful for that smile and that decision.  If he had stayed at home, we would have gotten the phone call five hours away. He spent his last moments with us...thank you. 

3.  We were in Edinburg, TX.

We were five hours from home.  I never have to go back there again.  I am thankful this didn't happen in my house, because I don't think I could stay there if it had. 

4.  The girls were with my parents.

I am thankful that my daughters were not with us.  Only God knows how they would have handled watching their brother die, but I am glad that they didn't have to see it. 

5.  A registered nurse was available to help us almost immediately.

We pulled into a restaurant parking lot with no idea what was wrong with our boy.  An RN, who was also a CPR trainer, came out right away to help us.  We weren't alone and we had the best help available.  We wouldn't have to wonder, "what if". 

6.  We were minutes away from a children's hospital.

If we had been at home, it would have taken 40 minutes minimum to get an ambulance to the local hospital.  If Max had a chance to survive, we were in the right place. 

7.  With Max's scream, I realized something was wrong. 

Thankfully,  I didn't let him "cry it out".  He would have died in his car seat...and I would have thought he was sleeping.  Thank God I told Morgan to get him out.  I think finding him dead would have been worse than watching him die.  At least I know we did everything we could. 

8.  My Aunt and Uncle were an hour away from us.

We were in an unfamiliar place.  Hours away from our family.  Thankfully I had loved ones close by to be with us and take care of Morgan.

9.  Max had an undiagnosed heart condition.

While I wish things were different, if Max was going to die, I'm thankful he died of something beyond my control.  He didn't drown on a bottle.  There was nothing I could have done to prevent his death and there was nothing that I did to cause it.  I am thankful I don't have to live with that guilt.

I can see God working in my life that day.  And I reflect on times prior to Max's death, that make me believe God was preparing me for this heartache. 

For a while, I was attending a holy hour of adoration weekly.  My home parish has perpetual adoration and I attended every Monday evening.  I loved this hour.  I received peace, consolation and suggestions every week.  It was in adoration when I first considered being a stay at home Mom.  I am so thankful that I made that decision.  I was able to spend my time with Max at home, instead of working.  What a gift!

I know that God is always with us...always available to chat, but for me, there is something really special about sitting in front of the Blessed Sacrament.  It's a nice time to just sit.  Sit in the quiet.  Listen.  Of course, I always had a few requests to present before Him.  But for the most part, I would just open up my heart.  Sometimes, I'd sit quietly and open my mind, or open up a book to a random page and find just what I needed...and sometimes I'd write. 

After we lost Max, one day I opened up my journal.  I didn't write in it very often.  It didn't have very many entries.  But one caught my eye.  One Monday evening during adoration, I wrote my thoughts down.  I was six weeks pregnant with Max at the time.  The words I wrote that night, I believe were intended for me to read today.  I wrote,

 

     "Just as your parents don't own you, you don't own your children.  I am giving them to you for awhile.  They are mine.  Take care of them.  I love children.  Each one is special in its own way.  Your children are not about you - they each have their own individual story -their own individual life.  Help them make it the best they can according to me, not the world."

                                        -God-

This is the exact entry from my journal.  I even signed God's name at the bottom of that message.  When I was six weeks pregnant with my son, a son who wouldn't live to see his first birthday, I wrote these words.  In my eyes...that is God at work. 

 And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. -Romans 8:28

Give thanks to the Lord, invoke his name;  make known among the nations his deeds.  Sing to him, sing his praise, proclaim all his wondrous deeds." -1 Chronicles 16: 8-9

My Faith Journey

We had a private viewing at the funeral home with our immediate family, before the church services. Right now, I feel anxious and sick as I think about it.  Initially, I couldn’t look at Max.  I just sobbed and sobbed…”that’s not my baby!”  Aaron was so much stronger than I, leading our children up to the tiny casket to see their baby brother.  

There is nothing you can do to prepare yourself for this type of grief.  But with that being said, I know that God was working in my life.  He was preparing me.  He was leading me and giving me the tools I would need to survive this tragedy and continue living through the pain.  I know that some of my high school and college friends are reading this and asking themselves, "Really?  Robyn wasn't exactly holy-roly back in the day."

And they are right.  I was in a completely different place.  Ten years ago, being a Christian was not a very important part of my life.  I was a cradle Catholic.  I received all of my sacraments in the church.  But, I wasn't passionate about my faith.  I attended mass when it was convenient, picked and chose which teachings I would follow and prayed very little.  I was one of the many, many lukewarm Catholics.

In college, I was open to the idea of changing to any religion.  I was smart and I was proud of the fact that I could apply reason to figure out complex problems.  I enjoyed calculus, physics and chemistry.  All of those subjects were very concrete.  There was a definite right answer to each problem, all other answers were wrong.  Science had an explanation for almost everything and if there wasn't an explanation, it was only because it hadn't been discovered yet.  I knew all of the answers...or so I thought. 

I also knew what the Catholic Church taught about Adam and Eve and Noah's Ark.  I knew that I couldn't live my life belonging to a church that taught such silly, unbelievable stories.  I actually looked into the Church of Scientology.  I knew I wanted to believe in God, I was too scared not to, but I also knew I was right about science being the "truth".  Luckily, my search didn't result in anything.  I couldn't find the answers I needed, and I knew that my mother would be really upset if I bought into such a religion.  So I kept my Catholic faith, my mother's faith, and attended mass when home for the weekends. 

  

 

We got married and baptized our children in the church and the whole cycle of “boring masses” started all over again.  But in 2007, my husband attended an ACTS Retreat.  He enjoyed every minute and insisted that I attend one as well.  Reluctantly, I said ‘yes’.   I really didn’t want to go.  I asked him to take me to a hotel for the weekend.  I promised I would pray the entire time, but he just gave me a hug and told me everything would be okay.  He was right.  It ended up being a really great weekend. 

I came back feeling energized about my faith, but a dramatic transformation did not occur for me.  I still had many questions.  But instead of believing I could figure everything out on my own, I actually started looking for answers.  Over the next couple of years, I began reading books, looking online,  and listening to lectures.  For every question I had, there were many answers from many different sources.  But time after time, the Catholic answer was the one that made the most sense to me.

To my surprise, every question I had for the Catholic Church, had a reasonable answer.  The more I learned, the more I realized I didn't know.  I learned how science fits into the Catholic Church, and to my astonishment, I was happy with it.  Pope John Paul II acknowledged "Science can purify religion from error and superstition."  But he added, "Religion can purify science from idolatry and false absolutes."  Cardinal Cesar Baronius wrote, "It is the Holy Spirit's intention to teach us how to go to heaven, not how the heavens go."  The Church's view on Evolution was exactly in line with what I felt to be true.  Catholicism acknowledges that the Bible is not a science book, nor a history book.  It is intended to teach us God's will; it's a book inspired by God that aims to teach us how to live.  I was surprised with this answer; I knew that my original assumptions about the church were wrong.  What else was I wrong about?  I began to ask more questions.  My questions were never ending, and still aren't.  But what I have found in my search, are answers. 

My husband and I have committed ourselves to Jesus and the Catholic Church.  It is not easy.  There are times I question myself.  Am I being reasonable?  Am I being smart?  Couldn't I have waited until I was like 98 to become religious?  The truth is, no...it is not reasonable, and it depends on how you define smart.  And I know at any given moment I can turn away from Jesus and He will take me back and forgive me, even if I am 98.  Of course that would be a gamble, because you never know how long we have on Earth.  But more than just the gamble, it's about the relationship. I don't turn away from Jesus because I don't want to hurt Him.  I want to make Him happy.  I want to love Him.  It's not about knowing about God, it's about knowing God, personally.  I can't change back to who I was.  I love Jesus...and I would just miss Him too much.  I don't know a lot, but I know that I am not here on Earth to just be a "fan" of Jesus.  I am here to imitate Jesus.  We can't just say, 'I love Jesus'...period.   No, we need to say 'I love Jesus, what does He want from me? What does He want me to do?  How can I please Him?"

My challenge for you today is to seek.  Seek and you will find.  Seek the answers to any questions you may have about your own faith.  Read, ask, listen.  In the words of St. Teresa of Avila, "In the measure you desire Him, you will find Him."  How much do you want His peace?  Let your guard down and depend on more than just yourself.  Depend on more than what your five senses tell you.  In the Imitation of Christ, Thomas Kempis states "human reason is weak and can be misled; but true faith cannot be deceived."

My faith is the most valuable thing I have.  Because of my faith I can see God at work through this tragedy.  Today, I thank Him for not giving up on me and for leading me to the place I am today.

Robyn

 

 “God is not what you imagine or what you think you understand. If you understand, you have failed.” -St. Augustine

Trust in the Lord with all your heart, on your own intelligence rely not; in all your ways be mindful of Him, and He will make straight your paths. - Proverbs 3, 5-6

“Not one hundred people in the United States hate the Roman Catholic Church, but millions hate what they mistakenly  think the Roman Catholic Church is” –Archbishop Fulton Sheen

 

A Bad Dream?

Before we left the hospital, we asked the doctor her opinion.  We wanted to know, "what happened?"  She told us that she believed it was just a tragic, tragic accident.  Possibly, Max had drowned on his bottle.

 I lived with tremendous guilt for weeks.  Why did I give him that bottle?  Why didn’t I know my child was drowning in my backseat?  It was a bottle of milk! He only had it a couple of minutes!  Why?!? 

We headed back to the motel in complete disbelief.  Morgan spent the night with my aunt and uncle in a room next to ours.  Aaron and I got ready for bed, put on pajamas…brushed our teeth.  We went through the motions like any other night, but our entire world had changed.

 I knew we weren’t going to be able to sleep.  How could we?  A million thoughts were running through our minds.  I prayed that it all had been a dream, a very bad dream. 

Earlier in the week, Aaron and I both had bad dreams.  I had a dream that something bad had happened to Max in our car.  I didn’t know what, but I knew it was bad.  I woke up in a panic and leaned over to check on him. (he still slept next to our bed)  He was fast asleep, so I went back to bed.

Aaron had a dream that he was in a maze and couldn’t get to us.  He actually got up out of bed that night to check on Max.  Again, all was good.  Today, Aaron will tell you that maze was the children’s hospital.   While we were in the ICU, Aaron ran to the car for a minute and had a hard time finding his way back to us.  It’s funny how dreams work.  Why would we dream such things the week before Max died?  Maybe God was talking to us.

At 3 am, we got a phone call.  It was Child Protective Services, CPS.  They wanted to meet with us.  Two men showed up about 45 minutes later.  They wanted to interview us separately.   They asked each of us to consent to a drug test.  It was unbelievable.   This was an entirely different nightmare.  They stayed with us until about 6 am.  They left for a while but returned within a couple hours to interview Morgan. 

They agreed our stories checked out.  They felt sorry for us, even gave us hugs.  But ultimately they decided that our three remaining children should be “placed” with my in-laws until our home county could clear us of any wrong doing.  Morgan was not allowed to ride home with us and we were not supposed to be alone with our children. 

I know they were just doing their job, but we were going through hell.  It took almost two weeks before we were visited in our home by the local CPS.  The lady that came out was very apologetic.  She checked to make sure the kids had a safe place to sleep and food in the pantry.  After a ten minute visit, she told us the kids could stay at home again.  We were just so thankful that this part of our nightmare was over. 

Twelve weeks after we lost Max, we finally got the autopsy results.  Max hadn’t drowned on his bottle.  It turns out Max had an undiagnosed heart condition, hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, HCM.  His heart was a normal size, but it weighed twice as much as it should have.  His cardiac muscle was very dense, which didn’t allow for his blood to flow correctly.   Usually when people die suddenly with this condition, it’s a teenager on the basketball court or football field.  It is nearly unheard of for this to happen to an infant.   My five month old son died because he had a heart attack.    

You will have to suffer only for a little while:  the God of all grace who called you to eternal glory in Christ will restore you, he will confirm, strengthen and support you.  His power lasts for ever and ever.  Amen. -1 Peter 5:10-11

 

“I have an ever deeper and firmer belief that nothing is merely an accident when seen in the light of God, that my whole life down to the smallest details has been marked out for me in the plan of Divine Providence and has a completely coherent meaning in God’s all-seeing eyes.” –St. Edith Stein

Seriously?!?

Max was taken back to the intensive care unit.  More doctors showed up to help him.  We were allowed in the room with him this time, but they never stopped working on him.  I couldn’t watch, but I couldn’t leave…I could only pray. 

I stood up and talked to Max through my tears.  “Max, Mommy needs you.  Hang in there buddy.  I love you, Mommy needs you.”

He responded to my voice.  The doctor called me to Max’s side and told me to keep talking to him.   So I just kept repeating, “Mommy needs you.  Mommy loves you.  Max, Mommy needs you.”

He wasn’t getting better.  They were breathing for him and shocking him over and over.  I couldn’t watch anymore.  We stepped out of the room.  It wasn’t long before they came out and told us that he didn’t make it.  I knew it was real this time.  I knew we had just lost our baby.  Aaron knew too.  There was no more fight in him, and we knew he would not be coming back. 

We went in to see him.  He looked so perfect.  He looked like he was sleeping.  He even seemed to have a slight smile on his face.  In the ambulance, they had cut his clothes off of him.  So he was lying on this little bed with only a diaper on, and it was open.  Sometime, through all of the trauma, he had dirtied his diaper.  My instinctive thought was, “I need to change him.”  That thought cut like a knife.  I realized I wouldn’t need to change anymore of his diapers.  How could this happen to us?

                                                  (Sleeping peacefully on Mommy's chest)

Soon, a lady was asking us if we wanted a keepsake of our child…a lock of his hair?  A footprint?  I was in a complete daze…was this real? 

A nurse cleaned Max up.  She took off all of the tubes and wires and wrapped him in a blanket.  She asked if I’d like to hold him.  How bizarre…a stranger, asking ME if I wanted to hold my child.  I sat in the rocking chair and I rocked my sweet boy.  I talked to him, kissed him and rubbed his little head.  Oh God…it was so hard for me to do.  Just hours before, I was holding and kissing my happy little boy.  In that hospital room, his little body was lifeless and cold.  God…please rewind time. 

It was time to call our parents.  How were we supposed to call them at 10 pm on a Friday and let them know that their grandson had just died?  What were we going to say?  Nothing that we could have said would have made it any easier.  The fact was… Max was gone. 

One nurse soon wanted to know what funeral home we would like to use and another was asking about organ donation.  Seriously?!?  We were just on our way to a restaurant!  How did we get here?

My aunt and uncle were an hour away on a fishing trip.  They showed up at the hospital to hug us, help us and take care of Morgan.  Our friends (that we were visiting) helped us pick a local funeral home that would bring Max home for us. 

After several hours of hell, we were supposed to go back to our motel room.  I was so ready to get out of that hospital, but how was I supposed to leave without Max?  I wish I had stayed and held him all night.  As difficult as it was to hold his lifeless body, it is much more difficult to have empty arms. 

I miss him so much.  As I write this, I can barely see the computer screen through all my tears.  But I want you to know that I have never lost faith.  I have never lost hope.  I will gladly suffer every day on this earth, if it means I will spend eternity with the people I love in heaven.  My hope is in a place I can’t see, but I know exists.  Just because my prayers weren’t answered the way I had hoped, doesn’t mean they weren’t heard.  Today, I am so thankful for so many things.

Robyn

 

This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us.  And if we know that he hears us - whatever we ask - we know that we have what we asked of him. -1 John 5:14-15

 
“You – if you are an apostle – will not have to die.  You will move to a new house, that’s all.” –St. Josemaria Escriva

Maybe...just maybe

We were only minutes away from the local Children’s Hospital.  We pulled up behind the ambulance and jumped out.  The lady driving our car offered to keep an eye on Morgan.  I didn’t know what to do.  I didn’t want him to see everything happening with his brother.  We didn’t have anyone to come help us.  I didn’t want to leave him with a stranger.  She told me she had two kids herself…and she would make sure he was okay.  I trusted her and I ran in after Max. 

He was so small lying on the stretcher.  Doctors and nurses surrounded him immediately.  They wheeled him into an emergency room and shut the door.  Someone directed us to a small room next to his where we could wait, where we would pray. 

Aaron was pacing, I was sitting, then we would switch.  Praying, praying, praying for a miracle.  I knew that anything less wouldn’t be enough.  I was crying, but had no tears.  I was in shock.  Was this really happening? 

The ambulance crew stayed around Max’s room, peeking in the window, with sorrowful expressions on their face.  After a little while, I realized Morgan would be fine with us.  He joined us in the small waiting room, continuing to pray.  I hoped that his childlike faith would be the key that would save Max.  “Keep praying, Morgan.” 

People were going in and out of Max’s room.  Every once in a while we’d catch a glimpse of them breathing for him or shocking his heart.  He never made a sound.  

A police officer came to talk with us.  He wanted to know what happened.  He was very apologetic, but I wanted to vomit.  He was from a town outside of Edinburg.  It turns out, when I made the 911 call we weren’t even in Edinburg.  We had crossed over to a bordering town and I hadn’t realized it.   He wanted to look in the car, check out Max’s car seat.   I was thinking, “take my car…I don’t care!” 

Then the doctor came in to see us.  She told us the one thing that no parent ever wants to hear.  “I’m sorry….”  I looked down for a second and then just let out a loud, agonizing scream.  It was the first time in my life that I felt I had absolutely no control.  I couldn’t have held in that scream if I had wanted to. 

I remember Aaron asking the doctor, “Are you sure?  Max is a strong boy.  He’s a fighter.  Did you do everything?  No...he’s too strong.  Are you sure?”  

God, it hurt so badly.  It still hurts…so, so bad. 

The doctor assured us they did everything they could.  Then a man came to the room and called the doctor out.  She soon returned to let us know that Max’s heart had started beating again.  He was still alive.  He had come back on his own.  She said they would run some tests and move him back to a room, but to be prepared because he had been without oxygen for quite a while. 

They wheeled him back to another room and we followed.  It was the best he had looked so far.  Maybe there was hope.  Maybe God had heard us.  Maybe…just maybe. 

 

And he said to them, "Why are you afraid, you of little faith?"  Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the sea; and there was a dead calm. -Matthew 8:26

"The insight of the most skilled doctors can't compare to a mother's heart." -St. Therese of Liseaux

Something's Wrong

I gave Max a bottle, returned to my seat and we soon pulled out of the parking lot.   Aaron had barely put the car in drive before Morgan said Max was spitting his milk out.  He had milk all over his face.   I didn’t think much of it…I just told Morgan to pick up the bottle so it wasn’t leaking everywhere. 

Then, Max let out a horrible scream.   It was no ordinary cry.  I knew he was in pain.  At that moment, I knew something was wrong.  I told Morgan to get him out of his car seat.  I thought maybe something had bitten him…or maybe he just needed to burp.  I remember Aaron questioning my decision to get him out of his car seat while we were driving, but I thought I could make him feel better and buckle him back up in no time. 

But, then I saw him.  I saw him in Morgan’s arms…something was very wrong.  It looked like he was holding his breath.  He was shaking.  His right arm was curled up in a strange manner.  Yes, something was very wrong. 

I grabbed him and yelled, “Something’s wrong!  He’s choking!”  I flipped him over and started pounding on his back.  A million thoughts were racing through my head.   What did he swallow?  What could it be?  Why is he choking?  Why is this happening? 

Aaron pulled over the car into a restaurant parking lot.  He hopped out, grabbed Max and started doing the Heimlich maneuver on him.   I was yelling at him to be careful.  Our baby was being tossed around…but I knew the infant Heimlich didn’t work on him.  What else were we to do? 

At that time, I had no idea how bad it was.  It didn’t even cross my mind that I was going to lose my child.  Aaron and I lived very blessed lives.  We were two of the luckiest people I had ever met.  Nothing bad happened to us.  Everything just always worked out our way.   I was positive that Max would cough up whatever he swallowed, look at me with relief and start crying for me to comfort him.  I was wrong.

Aaron yelled at me to call 911.  I hadn’t even thought of it.  I grabbed my phone and suddenly I couldn’t remember how to find my keypad.  My hands were shaking and my mind wasn’t working right.  Finally…I got them on the phone. 

“911..what‘s your emergency?”

I start screaming…”my baby’s not breathing!  He’s choking!  My baby!” 

I remember laying Max in the grass.  I couldn’t find anything in his mouth.  His lips were blue.  I began CPR.   I knew he wasn’t breathing, I had to do something.  Aaron took over. 

On the phone they kept telling me to calm down.  Three different times they asked me my location.  I didn’t know where I was!  I knew I was in Edinburg.  I told them the name of the restaurant.  I kept yelling, “Edinburg!”   I ended up handing my phone to some random man who was walking down the highway.  He was able to give them the information they needed.

Some people from the restaurant came out to help.  The windows of the restaurant were full of faces watching our nightmare unfold.  One lady was a registered nurse.  She confirmed that Max wasn’t choking on anything and she performed CPR until the ambulance came. 

Aaron just kept saying, “Come on, Max.  Come on, buddy.  Hang in there!”  I was a wreck, pacing around the car.  Morgan was sitting in the car, crying…”I don’t want my brother to die.”  I told him Max would be fine, just pray.  He started praying, prayer after prayer.  “Our father who art in heaven.  Hail Mary full of grace…” 

Once the ambulance finally arrived they put Max in the back and Aaron crawled in with him.  They worked on him for a long time.  I expected them to show up and leave immediately.   “Why were they taking so long? Hurry up!” 

Aaron came out of the ambulance a couple times to update me.  “e’He’s okay.  They are working on him.”  I knew he wasn’t okay.  He brought me his shoes…his little brown shoes.  I knew it was bad. 

A kind lady from the restaurant offered to drive my car behind the ambulance.  I got in and I began to pray.

“Please God!  Please!  If it is your will, save my baby.  You can perform miracles at any time.  Perform one now and I will make sure that everyone knows how wonderful you are…all praise and glory will go to you.  Please God!  In the past I have prayed, your will be done, but please God…don’t allow this to happen.” 

Aaron got in the car, the ambulance pulled out and we followed behind.  I kept saying, “He is testing us!  We have to stay strong.”  By “he”, I meant Satan.   I believed Satan was testing our faith.  Would we stand by God through tragedy?  Would we blame God, or turn to God?  At that moment, as I watched an ambulance take my baby, my Maxipoo, I needed God.  I needed a miracle.  I needed hope. 

 

“In the events of life, you must recognize the divine will.  Adore and bless it, especially in the things which are the hardest for you.” – St. Padre Pio

“For this reason, when I could bear it no longer, I sent to find out about your faith; I was afraid that somehow the tempter had tempted you and that our labor had been in vain.” -1Thessalonians 3:5