Friday, October 30, 2009


Lately I've been spending a lot of time deep in memories of my last days with Owen. Maybe it's the combination of massive amounts of hormones and the continunous march of days passing by, getting closer and closer to November 5, 6, 7, 8...

I call them rememberings. My doctor uses another word. The term flashback brings to mind war veterans, victims of kidnappings and abuse.

I know exactly where I am. I can still hear the radio, the television. I can feel the chair and pillows underneath me. There are other things there too. An examining bed. An ultrasound machine. The sound of static in the air. No heartbeat.

It feels so raw, like my whole body is an open sore.
Anything can trigger them, and suddenly I'm lost in a world of rememberings. The sounds, the smells, the overwhelming sadness.

Someone told me the other day that they didn't want me to be sad anymore. That it makes them sad to think that I'll be sad for the rest of my life. The suggestion was even made that having a child that lives will somehow make me less likely to think of my children who are no longer living with me- that I won't miss them as much. A replacement child, I thought silently.

Don't worry...I lovingly corrected them.
Despite the fact that his death is all most people ever think of, Owen is not just his death.
Sometimes my rememberings are stuck on this tragic event, but those last few days of carrying Owen (after his death) are not all I think of when I remember my precious first born son.
Owen is a joy.
A rambuncous little boy with dark hair who spent most of his time kicking me in the ribs and pushing his butt out as far as he could. Everytime I rolled over in my sleep, he would push back against the bed as if to say, 'Mommy, seriously, I was sleeping just fine until you woke me up.' The first time I felt him move (and knew it was him) was after drinking a peach and mango smoothie at work. Yes, in the same chair I was sitting in when he died.
I have so many memories of talking to him, making up songs about him (my favorite song is entitled 'I'm a naked baby...'). Chris and I sang hymns together and read him so many books. The one I remember the most is Where the Wild Things Are. I laid with my head in Chris' lap, his arm around me, my arms wrapped around Owen.
I'm not going to give up my sweet memories of my son just to get rid of the bad ones...I will remember them all. together.
And I will remember the God who held me that dark November 6 night. The night I thought my heart was being crushed...the night I thought I would surely die.
I will remember the God who gave me a precious son to carry 35 weeks 5 days, who gave me the strength to deliver him three days later, and the strength to continue living and breathing two years after I thought I would die of a broken heart.
It's all a part of the same beautiful story.


Keisha Valentina said...

Oh Ebe,

I am in tears.

What beauty in your words...

His life is beautiful.

Rachel said...

I'm glad you have so many memories of Owen, good and traumatic ones. I often feel like I stuffed a lot of my memories b/c of the pain and now they're harder to recall.

Glad you're okay. I just did the math, you're ten weeks pregnant, right. Hurray for May baby!

Continuing to pray,

Anna said...

I'm glad you corrected whoever tried to suggest you wouldn't think of all your children when you have a living child.

I talk about Morgan all the time. I reference, "when I was pregnant with Morgan..." just like I would if Morgan were here with me today. Just like so many mom's do, I compare my pregnancies to one another. Nobody should expect us to give up any of our memories of our children.

Love, Hugs, & Prayers,

Rebecca said...

I have 'rememberings' too, just not as many sweet things to remember as you. I love the way you write Owen's story; the way that you choose to honor him, even now.

Chris said...

As I have been studying 1 Peter for our small group, I read this. It is John Calvin's interpretation of 1 Peter 1:6, "In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials".

Calvin lost his wife and their infant son too, so I take such great comfort from his words. They are not written by some intellectual theologian in the clouds, but a man who knew grief like we do and knew Christ in such a deeper way through it.

"His [Peter's] purpose was to show that God does not thus try His people without reason, for if God afflicted us without a cause, it would be grievous to bear. Hence Peter has taken an argument for consolation from the design of God, not because the purposes always appear to us, but because we ought to be fully persuaded that it ought to be so, because it is God's will." Peter says therefore Christians will experience grief only as it is necessary in the light of God's great and infinitely wise purposes for them.

Your post is so sweet and hard to read, but it so profoundly displays the truth of God's loving and wise sovereignty as well as His faithfulness, giving Him much glory! It reminds me to rest in this Sovereignty and faithfulness.

Also, take comfort in that our Truine God "remembers all...together" because "it's all a part of the same beautiful story" He is orchestrating to display His glory and love for us in Christ. It is ultimately His great story which we are apart of.

I love you.

Erika said...

Bawl. Sob. Beautiful.

I love that you say that you have "rememberings" - I, too, have been troubled by the term "flashbacks"- I love the word rememberings. I am going to adopt it and use it, too, if that is okay.

Sending you so much love and peace and light.


Freya said...

As I've reflected on what our gracious Lord is doing with me, in having me wait for our children, after several painful losses, I remind myself and find rest in that the more I remember my G-d and His plans, the more I realize that this is better--this timing which is not my timing just as His thoughts are not my thoughts neither are His ways ours(Isaiah 55:8). His design is this perfection of so many and varied things happening in such precise and unfathomable ways that (to me) it is terrible (terrible as in causing me to tremble in its greatness, not as in bad) but also exciting. His plan, which is unknown and beautiful and perfect, is what I long to want, instead of preferring my own paltry plans.
But really what I'm getting at is that the culmination of your post, that you will "remember the God who brought you through this" is really what it is all for, none of it has been in vain, like our hearts think, but for some good reason--good as in for our health and our salvation. His timing, his sharing of His suffering with us--He who not just lost but GAVE His only son to us--to everyone, He certainly knows suffering with us and suffers with us--even though it may not feel like it.
Thanks for writing, I really appreciate your sincerity and your honesty. I'm praying for you and your little one =).


Sara said...

I don't think I have your email address. I just wanted you to know that you have been on my heart. I know Owen's anniversary date with Jesus was yesterday, I believe. You have been in my prayers. Is 2 years any easier or different at all than 1 year? Wow, you have survived 2 years. You are 2 years closer to being reunited with Owen:)

I read your hubby's words above. Such a precious man, you can hear how much he loves and cares for you his, wife and mother of his children. As I read, I thought, this guy will do great in the sem. Is that still a part of the plans with the new little one coming?

I continue to pray for the Lord's protection over you, your little one and your heart as you journey through these next months.

Sending hugs and remembering sweet Owen with you.

Miranda said...


Sorry I didn't contact you on Owen's birthday. I can't believe it's been 2 years. Though I didn't know you when you had Owen I feel that I know him through you. You speak of him vividly. You are always in my thoughts and prayers. Rub your belly from me. I can't wait to meet that precious May baby :)