We are just waking up to another blessed day. I am holding Ruthie Lou as she floats in and out of sleep, unsure if she's quite ready to wake up, she is quite the night owl as I have learned babies can mix up their night and days, hers are more like a swing shift, not completely opposite, but off kilter nonetheless.
There are so many things that cross my mind all day as I sit with my angel & stare at her beautiful and perfect body. This morning I was reminded of this parable told at the Center for Spiritual Living months ago while I was pregnant. It brought to me to tears at church thinking of the birth of my little one & now brings me to tears giving me hope for her eternal life. Its a little wordy but I hope you get the same sense of hope after reading it, too. LIFE AFTER DEATH If the soul is immortal then death cannot be considered a final act. If the life of the soul is to be continued, then death, however bitter, is deprived of its treacherous power of casting mourners into a lifetime of agonizing hopelessness over an irretrievable loss. Terrible though it is, death is a threshold to a new world-the "world-to-come." A Parable, an imaginative and telling analogy that conveys the hope and confidence in the after-life, even though this hope must be refracted through the prism of death, is the tale of twins awaiting birth in the mother's womb. It was created by a contemporary Israeli rabbi, the late Y. M. Tuckachinsky. Imagine twins growing peacefully in the warmth of the womb. Their mouths are closed, and they are being fed via the navel. Their lives are serene. The whole world, to these brothers, is the interior of the womb. Who could conceive anything larger, better, more comfortable? They begin to wonder: "We are getting lower and lower. Surely if it continues, we will exit one day. What will happen after we exit?" Now the first infant is a believer. He is heir to a religious tradition which tells him that there will be a "new life" after this wet and warm existence of the womb. A strange belief, seemingly without foundation, but one to which he holds fast. The second infant is a thorough-going skeptic. Mere stories do not deceive him. He believes only in that which can be demonstrated. He is enlightened, and tolerates no idle conjecture. What is not within one's experience can have no basis in one's imagination. Says the faithful brother: "After our 'death' here, there will be a new great world. We will eat through the mouth! We will see great distances, and we will hear through the ears on the sides of our heads. Why, our feet will be straightened! And our heads-up and free, rather than down and boxed in." Replies the skeptic: "Nonsense. You're straining your imagination again. There is no foundation for this belief. It is only your survival instinct, an elaborate defense mechanism, a historically-conditioned subterfuge. You are looking for something to calm your fear of 'death.' There is only this world. There is no world-to-come!" "Well then," asks the first, "what do you say it will be like?" The second brother snappily replies with all the assurance of the slightly knowledgeable: "We will go with a bang. Our world will collapse and we will sink into oblivion. No more. Nothing. Black void. An end to consciousness. Forgotten. This may not be a comforting thought, but it is a logical one." Suddenly the water inside the womb bursts. The womb convulses. Upheaval. Turmoil. Writhing. Everything lets loose. Then a mysterious pounding -- a crushing, staccato pounding. Faster, faster, lower, lower. The believing brother exits. Tearing himself from the womb, he falls outward. The second brother shrieks, startled by the "accident" befallen his brother. He bewails and bemoans the tragedy--the death of a perfectly fine fellow. Why? Why? Why didn't he take better care? Why did he fall into that terrible abyss? As he thus laments, he hears a head-splitting cry, and a great tumult from the black abyss, and he trembles: "Oh my! What a horrible end! As I predicted!" Meanwhile as the skeptic brother mourns, his "dead" brother has been born into the "new" world. The head-splitting cry is a sign of health and vigor, and the tumult is really a chorus of mazel tovs sounded by the waiting family thanking God for the birth of a healthy son. Indeed, in the words of a contemporary thinker, man comes from the darkness of the "not yet," and proceeds to the darkness of the "no more." While it is difficult to imagine the "not yet" it is more difficult to picture the "no more." As we separate and "die" from the womb, only to be born to life, so we separate and die from our world, only to be re-born to life eternal. The exit from the womb is the birth of the body. The exit from the body is the birth of the soul. As the womb requires a gestation period of nine months, the world requires a residence of 70 or 80 years. As the womb is prozdor, an anteroom preparatory to life, so our present existence is a prozdor to the world beyond.
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We have had some really great days here at the house. Over the last few days we have laid on the grass with blanket and camera, taking pictures and enjoying the cool breeze on our faces, Chris and I taking turns as photographer, trying to capture every second, ingrain them in our memories, in our minds. We attempted a little more art & memory making, Ruthie Lou had other plans so we decided to let that one go for the day and try again when we were all feeling fresh! She really runs things!
The next day we brought in reinforcements and had time in the Art Room with the Child Life specialist. She is amazing and calm and we really needed an extra set of hands to help us with our plaster handprints. I came to realize that since Ruthie Lou loves her little fists, we forwent the "perfect" handprint idea and instead made fisted handprints! They are not traditional nor perfect but as i told Ruthie Lou early on in her little life, "Imperfections are what make us perfect" and I am learning that over and over here with Ruthie Lou, she continues to remind me everyday as I let go of my expectations of life. I am constantly reminded of letting preconceived notions go and as I learned many years ago, expectations lead to disappointment, it's okay to let things go once in a while! We also had the amazing opportunity to work with a water therapist for Ruthie Lou and me. She met us in the oversized hot tub that is about 95 degrees and demonstrated how to move Ruthie Lou in the water and it was amazing! Ruthie Lou was so relaxed, she didn't squirm or wiggle, her little body just floated with only her head supported in the water. We had music playing and the lights dimmed, it was truly magical. Water is one of my most favorite places to be, it was so special to share those moments with Ruthie Lou. I just held her, floated her and stared at her precious little body so relaxed. I know it sounds crazy but staring at her felt like we lived a lifetime in those 30 minutes in the water. I was so lost in Ruthie Lou, she was in such peace & without seizures or pain, it was so special. Chris chose not to go in the water but got some great pictures from the side of the tub. Yesterday, I woke up with Mastitis, again. It is amazing how your brain and body work together to tell you when things are not right. I have always believed when you have a strong body, you have a strong mind and when one falters, it can really bring you down. The mastitis brought me down yesterday for sure. I started having moments of sadness and anger and I know that is normal but it is NOT how I want to spend my days with Ruthie Lou, there will be plenty of time for that later. So, instead we just rested yesterday ALL DAY! Lots of naps and snuggling, recuperating to wake up feeling stronger and starting over today. In the evening, sunset strolls have become our favorite routine and two nights ago we found a great place to sit next to the waterfall, where we could watch the hummingbirds and all the plants that surround the area. It's truly breathtaking here. Last night however I was so tired from feeling sick all day that Ruthie Lou and I both slept thru dinner AND the sunset on the couch! Clearly, we needed the rest! And today, we woke up as we always do, feeling fortunate to share another day with our little angel. We are really just enjoying all the things families do when they bring their little one home. Today has been an emotional day. A wonderful day full of laughs and an excruciating day full of heart wrenching tears. Each good moment makes me want another happy experience and so forth. There will never be enough "time". This morning waking up to Ruthie Lou's beautiful face right next to mine was the best. I have not slept that peacefully in three weeks.
Today was yet another peaceful and tranquil day. We lounged around this morning, snuggling with Ruthie Lou just being a family in our home. It was a warm and beautiful day here, the sun shining brightly. We took an afternoon stroll outside and smelled the sweet fresh air of all the flowers in bloom, the grounds here are immaculate and beautiful. We spent time this afternoon "memory making" with Ruthie Lou, creating 3-D casts of her hand and foot, they turned out perfect! It's kinda weird how realistic they look, I haven't seen anything like these before. We also attempted to do some handprints but little miss Ruthie Lou had another agenda, she was not having it! Ruthie Lou likes her hand in a fist, not flat, so instead her print turned out to be a big beautiful pink smear on the canvas, with paint all over her tiny hand and it kept getting frighteningly close to being put in her mouth! We were laughing so hard, we couldn't clean her fast enough! Oh well, imperfections make things perfect so we will keep her smeared prints and laugh every time we look at them. Tonight we sat outside and watched the sunset once again with the intent of taking some pictures of Ruthie Lou in the beautiful garden, but it was much too chilly. It was a good reminder that not all memories make it on the camera. Sometimes, I want the the picture so bad that most of my time is spent behind the camera and not appreciating the memory we are making. Throughout the day, I could not let go of how the community came together for our family at two fundraisers last night. The buzz was so big, we could feel it here in our "home", in fact we could still feel the energy today. The messages, texts and emails were so overwhelmingly full of love we are still in disbelief at the amount of support you have all shown us. We felt as if we were actually there...because in a sense we were. I told Ruthie Lou about all our friends and family who love her, love us, but I am sure she already knows you all. I still believe that she came here for me, for Chris but I also think she came here for all of you. It's hard not to think that when I see the tremendous amounts of lives that she has affected, she has changed. Thank you for all the Caringbridge guestbook messages and emails, I am saving all of them to remind me of Ruthie Lou's purpose here on Earth and to read them when I need your strength. Please continue to keep writing us, there is no blessing too small, sometimes it's the small things that make the biggest difference in our lives but I am also blown away by the huge life changes that some of you have confided in us. It's just another miracle of this little angel. The staff and volunteers here are so kind & loving, many of them having their own personal connection with this house or having lost a child before this house even existed. Once you join this "club" there is an unspoken bond that unites you with everyone else in it and fortunately there are some amazing people who have turned their loss, their pain, into helping and supporting families like us cope with the worst loss imaginable. There are also volunteers here of every age and every interest. Today an elderly woman sang Ruthie Lou a song and a high school student helped us with our "memory making" projects. This house includes people of all ages and all are united by the desire to bring joy to our children, no matter what. We feel so fortunate to have ended up here to be held close by people who love us and want the best for our daughter. And finally, thank to to all of you who have passed on the story Ruthie Lou's journey. A handful of your friends, people unknown to me, have reached out to share their personal story of pain, loss and survival. I desperately need to be connected with people who have been here before us. Hearing the ways in which families have coped, turning their loss into support for someone else, in this case us, gives us an ounce of hope that we will live beyond this tragedy, that we will give Ruthie Lou's legacy meaning, even though I am not sure what that will be yet, only time will tell... |
Amie LandsI am mama of three beautiful babes; two sons whom I have the privilege of raising and my daughter who lived for 33 sacred days. Archives
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