“After a while, though the grief did not go away from us, it grew quiet. What had seemed a storm wailing through the entire darkness seemed to come in at last and lie down.” Jayber Crow

Grief. It is a lonely feeling. It has been our companion. Grief’s emotional tirades would be easier to deal with if you could visit it. It would be the funny/ quirky relation that you make a visit to out of obligation. Unfortunately grief never leaves you alone; it’s constant pecking for attention leaves you exhausted. You knew when Grief came to live with you that it would be an ordeal to exist with this demanding person. But then what choice do you have? I have heard others speak of its nature, how they knew someone who Grief lived with, how they turned to diversion, to depression they lost it. I wonder why I am told these stories of those who Grief destroyed. I see those who have never had Grief tell me how I should act, how I should feel. This too baffles me. Do they know how demanding a houseguest Grief to be? They don’t. They reveal their ignorance by claiming to have the answers. Those of us who know Grief’s temperament, can say it all without saying words. Ripping ourselves from Grief never works—he hunts you. You must make life with Grief - you must make him a place and move forward. He will tug at you every second, in every conversation and in every moment of laughter. He will tell you that joy is a betrayal. He will tell you many things that speak to every pain, as he knows them intimately because he lives with you. He knows when you are down and pulls at the heart twisting it out of some pleasure he derives. The lady that once said to me, “Do you ever wonder why some babies live and others die?” while she loving caresses her beautiful child, Grief in his sense of irony brings us together often. Grief is twisted by nature and he can twist those who live with him. So in making my place a heaven with Grief living here too is not an easy balance. After all that Grief is capable of doing, I still have a choice. I still have a choice as to how I will respond. It is not easy but it is necessary, it is crucial to not only my own survival but also to that of my family. Choice. I have that power and I am not alone despites Grief’s demands. I have my covenants, the love of a Godly man and my Savior who shares the burden, who really does all the clean up from Grief’s messes. He too has felt Grief beyond anything I can understand and the worst kind - the eternal kind. Our visitor Grief can only hurt us here, now as we miss the simple moments we so wanted—the Grief that our Savior knows is why I must work so hard not to know. Eternal Grief is too terrible to ponder the havoc—it is to be worked against.

A year ago today we lost Katelynn. We said goodbye in the most permanent way life has to offer, we reminded ourselves of the promises. I wondered how I would live without her, would the pain always be this intense? The answer is yes. It is intense, it is there always and yet somehow we still managed to find breath. Unfortunately we didn’t all die in our sleep that night and unfortunately no large meteor has taken out our household. Life… each day comes and we find ourselves having to do life without her. The habits we have engrained before Katelynn are a comfort to us as we find life’s joys without her. A daily reminder of what we don’t have is before us embodied in the joy we have in Nathaniel and Ailsa, however ominous our sorrow is, our love too moves us forward. When Katelynn died, I had two kids who were experiencing this too. Their testimony has not yet been cast and they look to us. I am left with so much joy and pain mingled together that I have had to find comfort in agony, joy in pain, patience with ignorance of myself and others, and peace in turmoil. Life for us will always be bitter sweet so we must seek for ways to make the bitter teach, the turmoil to remind and for the joy to be eternal.

When Nathaniel and Ailsa ask why did Katelynn die? Why? These are not casual questions. They are not questions I can give them easy answers for; all I can do is tell them of Our Elder Brother, what He has said. The things we each carry here are heavy, but God has made us stronger to carry the burden, with that knowledge I am left with gratitude. Gratitude that through the pain we feel we are finding life’s joys that through the loss of Katelynn we can know, not hope, but know that she is in a wonderful place busy, happy and she too misses us, but in the glory that she sees she is excited for us, just as we would be waiting in some exotic locale for a loved one—she looks around and feels excitement. I don’t want to disappoint her and miss my plane. I don’t want any of my family to miss the plane to this exciting fabulous place we are all going to someday. With any trip one must pack, one must prepare, one must have the funds these things come from hard work, preparation, and sacrifice. We don’t show up at the airport and then be told if we are going to Bali or Cabo. We buy a ticket, we decide where we are going, our flight may get delayed but we choose where we are going. Katelynn’s flight came earlier than I was ready for, I feel like I wasn’t able to pack her bag. Does she know what arrangements we have made for the trip? She does, the travel guide has chosen the itinerary. We are just to go with the plans laid and no one likes a grumpy travel companion. I can pack Nathaniel and Ailsa’s bag, each day I lay something else needed in their case. I pack in mine too. I realize I won’t need some of the things that I thought I would, like diapers, but I do need more patience than I thought. So each day I plan for the future embracing the part that is mine and seek to do it well.

The last 54 days—we can’t help but look back and look at what was a year ago. The dates have significance that before were just other days, that now are seared in my conscious. Left with such a contrast of what was just a year ago, it is shocking at what we hold now. April 1st, May 17th, May 24th, May 30th—each a date that holds a special blessing and a deep loss. I have more feelings of each of these dates than I can briefly express. I am amazed and grateful of the strength of Atonement to hold us through our loss. I am aware of my own lack of perfection and the perfection of a loving Saviour who, when allowed, really will take the burden. I am often asked, “Why are you OK?” There are many reasons why I shouldn’t be sane, but I am. And really I have very little credit that I can claim as mine, what I have done right is to trust Him – the rest is His. I felt opposition like I have rarely known and some people treat me differently. Some are extra nice, others are cruel, and some are just oblivious. Relatively few really ask with sincerity how we are and it is shocking, though few in numbers, at who wants to tear us down. I shouldn’t expect a pass in life from pain, and I don’t but I am still surprised that others would seek to be offended by some nebulous offense, like I give to much eye contact when speaking, or didn’t say they were great enough, or I had the gall to propose we get together sometime… are there really those who would kick someone when they are down? It seems so. I am left asking myself if I am more kind to those in pain, or are my judgments too harsh?

We have never felt such a contrast of overwhelming support and so alone as we have this last year. Our friends have surrounded us with support that is amazing. We have had to find the faith to endure in not getting what we want. Yet there is peace with what is… God has a plan, and little by little He lets us in on another piece.

Katelynn's first birthday!

10am: decorating with brother and sister pink cupcakes very top heavy.

Noon: Lunch at Primary Children’s Hospital

1pm: Playing Primary children’s playroom.

2pm: In the angel garden singing happy birthday to Katelynn with her doctors and nurses (Nathaniel’s’ idea—how sweet is that!) Presents from Katelynn for Nathaniel and Ailsa.

5pm: Balloon release at Katelynn’s resting place – 54 balloons for the days we had her.

6pm: Hot soup at our house

6:30pm: Cake with lots of friends about 30 friends came by to celebrate with us—and it was a celebration, of friendship, blessings and joy that Katelynn brought.

Today was happy. We didn’t stand around sad about Katelynn. We had a daylong party The kids can’t wait until Katelynn’s next birthday!

Only you can prevent forest fires:

Katelynn would be one… what would be and what is, so apart in their contrast. I have been told in time that it won’t bleed. This individual had lost a child ten years prior, the wound for them now doesn’t pulsate it is not a hemorrhaging pain. It always hurts but joy can be felt again. That the constant feeling of loss is there, the ache both physical and emotional tugs at me, even in moments of simple pleasure the thoughts of what we planned on are always there and it hurts deeply-- only those who have lost a child can understand this level of hurt. I don’t mean to insult or exclude those who feel the loss of a parent or grandparent, but almost universally every parent of an angel I talk to is amazed that others tell them, “I understand how you feel, I lost my father, grandfather, mother. . .” the list goes on, but it is not the same. Both Nathan and I lost a grandparent the year before Katelynn. It was sad, we felt the remorse of time gone, opportunities lost, but we celebrated their life lived well. With the death of a child there is no feeling of completing the journey. It is the incompleteness of death that nags so viciously at each moment that is where the hemorrhaging comes in. Death makes us bleed, a wound leaves a mark, but constant blood loss is deadly, it is cause for alarm. We understand the gravity of the medical situation with no medical training hemorrhaging is a scary thing. People say to me, “I can’t imagine the loss of a child.” Sometimes I want to respond with “nor can I.” The loss is so intense it carries with it a destructive force. It is hard to comprehend continuing to breath let alone living a life of joy. After Katelynn’s passing, I knew death was so permanent, so intense and the pain of my prior losses, of Winnie, my grandmother- figure who died when I was eight, I miss her and think of her on special days. The recent death of my grandfather and I’m remembering working on his sheep ranch, remembering the lessons he taught, the stories, the peaceful silence. The loss of our pregnancies, the babies that we never held, the baby medicine refers to as fetus, its look not yet as a child at just over three months along. Seven miscarriages; their loss rocked my womanly heart so wrapped in the pain that I almost hardened under the pressure of the angst. My encounters with death both prepared me and alarmed me with the encompassing sorrow I now faced. Like a wildfire burning all in its path, the idea of a fresh growth too far away to ease the destruction that comes. It may seem for us who witness a burning to say it is best for the land, but for that rabbit, that tree, if they could feel as we do, are not comforted that a seedling may come to sprout, that other rabbits and deer will be in a growing forest. It may seem trite but only I can prevent the fires in my life. I let this fire burn and it will destroy everything I am, everything and everyone around me. All past joy, future joy and all goodness that could come from the life of Katelynn.

I watch a TV show, the characters had gone through a terrible divorce, in Book of Mormon language they lived riotous living, this radical shift in their behavior was all explained. They had a child, the child died. Thus the characters in large part died too. In most of these scripts they have no other children.

I have two other children. Could my love and loss of Katelynn lead to a wildfire of destruction in their life? The death of their sister possibly lead to a conversation like this: “What happened? Why is your mom a nut job?” And it all is explained with a shrug, an accepted fact by all wiped away in some mutual understanding we give the justifiably crazy because she lost her child to death? So probable a scenario, and I am the only one in control of my decision… I choose to not destroy the future and eternity of my other two children.

Christmas 2009

To summarize this year seems daunting. So, you may know that in 2007 our big news was the bus accident (it hit Nathan while he was riding his road bike), in 2008 it was Nathan’s heart attack, and this year 2009 it is the life and death of Katelynn. We sincerely hope for a boring 2010!

On December 26, 2008, Leta had an ultrasound: it showed some problems. As 2009 began, Leta had been on bed rest for four months. Our thoughts, actions, and prayers were all focused for Katelynn. Each of us had a job to do that was far from the normal. Nathan, in addition to his job—that he does so well with such focus in the midst of hardship—had to do Leta’s chores, laundry, dishes, cleaning, etc., while I, Leta, was to avoid becoming permanently disabled by staying down. Leta used a cane, two canes, a walker, and then a wheelchair. Leta’s OB said it was the most painful pregnancy he had ever witnessed… Leta is oddly proud of this: with all his years as an OB, it is good to know if you are enduring pain you couldn’t before comprehend, you aren’t being wimpy! Leta’s ability to do became less and less as others did more and more of what she was accustom to doing. Our church ward, our friends and Leta’s parents overwhelmed us with willingness to help with anything they could. So much so that the idea of writing thank you notes is impossible! So much love and service has been given to us: Thank You!

And, let us not overlook Nathaniel and Ailsa in their efforts and sacrifice to get their little sister to this earth. At times, they had to get their own snacks and learn to be independent beyond their years. Ailsa can make a great peanut butter sandwich, which is not a small accomplishment for being four. She also enjoyed total control over what color combinations she would wear. Nathaniel once was sent off to afternoon kindergarten hungry because Leta forgot to remind him to eat. When he was delivered home by a helping neighbor, he announced he was hungry. Leta felt mortified at her oversight. But, he brought her a snack first before helping himself, without being asked to, selfless remembering Leta’s needs first. What a great accomplishment at any age, let alone his of six at the time. Each of the kids enjoyed activities, school, soccer, football, dance, hikes with their Dad, playtime with Pia (a wonderful young lady we were blessed to have as our nanny) and time reading while cuddling with Mom. After seven months of family sacrifice, Katelynn was born on April 1, 2009. Our time with her is sacred: it has made us better people. As many of you know, we have our blog on Katelynn at www.ourtimewithfaith.blogspot.com. We miss her deeply and are thankful for the continued service given by those close to us here, but also by the love extended to Katelynn by our friends and family from literally all over the world.

While some may wonder how one little baby born in a stable could have such an impact, we have a fresh understanding. Katelynn was just one baby, her purpose not even a small crumb to that of the King of all Kings. Yet, in her presence, were all things pure, all things good, and we are forever altered by her 54 days with us. We had hopes that we would have her home, but that was not to be. Though it is so hard, we are so thankful for the message of this Christmas Season to remind each of us that life with all its challenges, with all the good and bad, the message comes back to one baby, who grew to a man, who exemplified to mankind obedience to His Father’s will. For all the suffering, He made possible through His atonement the greatest of all gifts: eternal life.

The Greene family is thankful. We are thankful for the prayers of our friends, our ward family and our families. We are thankful for the gospel of Jesus Christ that teaches that families are forever, that there is a plan of happiness, and that our Katelynn is busy doing good in the spirit world. When Nathaniel and Ailsa ask what Katelynn is doing, we tell them she is teaching people about Jesus and how much Jesus loves them. We tell them that she is so happy except that she misses us, that she won’t be fully happy until we are together in Heaven again. In thinking of our own grief, Nathan and Leta are again renewing our commitment to be better, to work harder, and to live better. As we went to Disneyland in her honor, as we traveled to see Nathan’s family at Thanksgiving time, and as we go about the daily events of our lives, it is our hope to remember the gift, the honor, and the message of this last year.

There is nothing more important than family. It is only through the plan of our Savior, through his atonement that we can all be together again. On our wall hangs our favorite picture of Katelynn next to it the words: “We CHOOSE to be an ETERNAL family.” Since each of you are also our family it is our wish to share with you our love, our gratitude—and with all that has happened—our testimony that our Jesus Christ lives, He loves us, and may we remember Him and choose to follow the Babe whose birth we celebrate.

Merry Christmas

Nothing rips your heart so as your child truly grieving and nothing makes it soar like your child’s hand clenched in excitement, feet pounding in anticipation of an upcoming thrill. These are the words that came to my mind as I watched Ailsa while we were about to go on Thunder Mountain for the second time in a row—good times—good times. We decided that the kids, and us, had had a very tough last year, and needed to do something apart from our routine of trauma followed by another trauma—it is not a routine I recommend.

Around the time of Katelynn’s funeral, it came to Nathan and me that we should do something crazy fun – like Disneyland. Once discussed, it felt right, so we began to plan the trip. I had no reservations till I saw the cost of such a trip. The most expensive trip we have ever taken was three years ago when we went to Sea World and Legoland—it was just under a 1000.00 dollars. This trip would with hotel, food, etc., would be more than three times that amount. The money I have put aside for Katelynn’s marker would go to this trip. Yet as the day grew closer, the little girl in me got more excited. The kids were beyond excited. As I was busy making sure the home was perfectly clean for our departure and everything packed, I was concerned less with the money and more gratified that we could give our kids such an opportunity. What a way to grieve, what a way to let them know that they are important, and what a way to honor Katelynn’s memory: to do something crazy fun and to take her (in spirit) with us.

Ailsa had been looking at one of the brochures with me. On the cover, Mickey Mouse-shaped balloons dance over the skyline of a castle… she asked, “get a balloon like that too.” You know kids, if you say yes you are locked in, and there we would be with an overpriced balloon and where do you put a balloon when you go on a ride? So, attempting to dissuade her, I recommended that we not get a balloon and that we get her something else that would be easier to carry and not get so easily lost. Ailsa looked up at me with the look kids get when they feel they are explaining the obvious, “Not for me, for Katelynn,” then with a thoughtful tone, “write Katelynn’s name on it so Jesus knows to give to Katelynn.” Trying to keep my voice even, I commended her on her idea. What an amazing little girl she is. For several days, Ailsa would check in with me—Katelynn’s balloon—the question if Ailsa wanted Katelynn with us in Disneyland was answered.

Katelynn in the minds of all of us would also be coming. We packed Katelynn’s bear that sat on the shelf of Katelynn’s NICU bed tucked among medical devices, usually next to my mug marked boldly “Mama Greene.” Each time now that I drink from it, the water almost tastes like the water at the NICU. I have been known to caress the letters as though they were fine engraving—not the hurried marker writings they are. We have so little of Katelynn physically that the simplest mundane becomes precious—the teddy bear is so clearly the most normal thing of a baby’s nursery. It was a $4.98 plush animal from Walmart. I know because I removed the tag. Nathan’s cousin Dave and his wife Lizette bought it when they planned to visit us and to see Katelynn in the NICU. I imagine them wondering what do you give a baby who is expected to be in the hospital for a long while. Well, the bear was selected. A gift wasn’t necessary, of course: their wanting to meet Katelynn was the best gift to us. Every new parent loves to show off their baby. The bear stood near Katelynn, so it was, and remains, worth so much. At first I would cringe as the children squeezed it, wanting the bear to remain pristine, then I realized the greater purpose was for Katelynn’s bear to be worn with love, to receive the kisses and hugs all loved little bears are meant to receive. While it was initially a simple gift from Dave and Lizett, did they have any idea the love that would be endowed on this little crème bear? If the teddy bears could talk… So, along came Katelynn’s bear to Disneyland. Her bear sat in the basket of my scooter, or more often held by the kids taken on rides. We took pictures of her bear with the characters, in niches and crannies all over the park. In arranging the trip, I had asked what perks they had, wanting this to be the trip of all Disneyland trips—character breakfast, dinner with goofy, dinner with Ariel, magic morning, meal plan. I was an easy sale. We wanted the kids to look back and think how much fun they had, and since they couldn’t be at any better age to embrace the magic of Disneyland—we went all out.

I was prone to happy tears, seeing the kids run in front, seeing them hug, seeing the joy of a ride, seeing a hug to a special little bear, seeing Nathaniel flex his muscles with Mr. Incredible, Mickey Mouse shaped waffles would bring a tear… crying happily. The happier the kids were, the more a tear was likely to come, to do so in Katelynn’s honor. She is never far from my thoughts, and at times, I thought surely now I wouldn’t have the thoughts of her pulling me. But, as I was on a roller coaster, it seemed a funny moment to be pondering why, how, and if I would ever feel like my mind is not being pulled, making a decision moment by moment to not embrace sadness but to embrace the joy, the real purpose of Katelynn. I felt Katelynn urge me to know that she was glad we were happy, glad that we were choosing to honor her memory with not just the tears that unavoidable come, but with happiness that she lived and happiness that she will again live and that we can be with her again in the next life. Disneyland was one aspect of the choice to be happy; we make the decision to embrace joy everyday, so there is hope in that. Hope is good. Each morning when I wake up, the shock of her death sweeps over me. I can’t say it is a new thought as my dreams are filled with her sometimes peaceful memories and other moments so real they draw upon the most tender motherly feelings, difficult in the time they lived, horrified as they are replayed in my slumber. Such difficult memories are to be kept simply as points of no regret that we didn’t shy away from: we were fully dedicated to our baby girl. She is there, as each of my children is here: a mother never forgets their children. Katelynn misses us as we miss her and as the rides moved us from side to side, the thrill of each moment, I felt not only Katelynn’s approval but her presence enjoying our joy… There are a lot of things I will miss out on having to wait for more time with Katelynn, yet I feel that I got one back with this trip. I got to take all three of my children to Disneyland!

Ailsa said the second day of the trip, in all seriousness, “Mom, can we move to Disneyland?” And why wouldn’t she want to move there? I told her we couldn’t afford it! My favorite part was the breakfast in Ariel’s Grotto— where we get to dine with the princesses. As we were sitting eating our tower of food—with pastries, fruit, cheeses and crackers—the announcer for the princesses invited Ailsa to come over with him to be the honorary princess. Any little girl would be thrilled to have such a fun honor. This year in Disneyland they ask what we are celebrating. We weren’t always sure what to say. Nathan said it best when he said “survival.” So, as Ailsa was invited up we were asked what we were celebrating. We spoke of Katelynn, how she loves the kids who showed him the little bear. The kids spoke with such animation and happiness that the “cast members” would look at us, like did I hear that right and how are you all OK? Some would have pained smiles, almost veiled panic as people realize they are taking about their sister that has died, which provided opportunities to share our knowledge that we know where Katelynn is. Hope and joy are very much about Katelynn. Attaching despairing sadness to her memory would be a disservice to Katelynn’s life. As the time for the princesses came near, Nathan ready with the camera, the Royal Attendant announced:

Here ye, here ye! This is Princess Ailsa with her family and Princess Katelynn, whose wonderful idea it was to bring her family to Disneyland!

Those who might have torn themselves from their own tower of food to look would have seen one child, but thought nothing of it. Perhaps Princess Katelynn was too shy to stand up with her sister? If they had looked and seen the mother, perhaps, then, they might think something was different as I had tears streaming down my face. Nathan and I had a hard time thinking of much to top that moment, so normal-- a family with three kids in Disneyland, but for us it would be a rare moment of having our three children together laughing and hugging, talking to and laughing with princesses. Cinderella was especially kind: she did, after all, have a hard childhood. Hard times help us to each increase our empathy. Cinderella gave the kids very one-on-one attention. She is now this household’s favorite Disney princess.

Later, when we were again dining with the princesses, the kids were overjoyed with happiness to see Cinderella again, which fortunately was the same lady. The kids caught her up on our adventures, literally making her fall over with hugs... I never thought I would be cajoling my children into apologizing to a fairytale character. Sir Bigsby, the royal announcer, was also there again, and yes that is his real name, I asked. How perfect it was that he has a British accent. Sir. Bigsby pulled me aside to say:

I have been thinking about your family. We the princesses and I have talked about you. A lot of people come to Disneyland to celebrate a variety of things. They come because someone is dying, but we have never known anyone to come to celebrate the life of someone, despite their death. You have given your children a gift.

This is around the time that I noticed Nathan helping Cinderella up from the forceful love of Nathaniel and Ailsa, we both laughed as he continued, “Your kids are thriving, happy, they are making it through this because of the example of you and your husband.” He shook Nathan by the hand, and expressed what an honor it was to meet him. Nathan was a little puzzled at the emphasis of his words, so I filled him in later. As the kids ran ahead that day we talked a lot of what was said. The kids are OK. The grief therapist at Primaries says that, and with what their teachers and Sir Brigsby have shared: what more confirmation do you need? We are a pretty normal family, we laugh, we cry…we just have an angel watching out for us and for us that is the happiest place on earth!

Ailsa has reverted to using a sippy cup. Dora dances on the outside. So cheerful company how can that compare to a plain colored cup? The added benefit is it can go anywhere and inevitably it gets left out, hidden in some place only a four year old would place it. When she was two they would be abandoned in plain sight. Now they find their ways into secret hiding spots—and in time become sour surprises for me, the dishwasher on duty. When they are temporarily left out a loud cry occurs when Ailsa sips—she in her innocence to milk’s temperamental nature doesn’t sniff first, perhaps a tentative taste—she gulps—“Mommy, my milk is yucky!” My favorite is when she not only shows me the offending cup but gives me the accompanying face, as though I cannot understand the scream of explanation. Yet the pattern continues. As once again I poured nearly full cup of offending (and may I add organic thus overpriced, yet yummy) milk down the drain—the irony of time struck me. I am told time heals. I wonder does time always heal? Milk sours quickly left out on a hot summer day, yet the same milk stays cool and refreshing in a different environment. Does one always lead to two? Does time always turn to the sour or bitter? Must I be bitter? Honey found in Egyptian tombs is still sweet, still good. Some seasonings lose flavor, others become more intense.
I am given a lot of advice, some I laugh at, some I try to laugh at and others I smile at their ignorance. Funny how those who have not followed our story, not been here to be apart of it, or have never lost a child-- now feel free to tell me how I should feel about the events. I am often told to be happy. What? How many grieving moms have you seen laugh as much as I? I am told how lucky I am to not have to be doing the whole baby thing again? Really, I would be more than happy to be doing the baby thing, changing diapers, even potty training (which is a bane to motherhood in my opinion) because with all the sleepless nights, the patience trying—comes the slobbery smiles I never got to see… and the list goes on. But why list them... why torment myself at what her body could not do? I had the blessing of the time we had. I can remember her eyes, her hand holding my finger. There were hard times, yes, but sacred times I cherish, I hold…they are all a part of my Katelynn. They who don’t know tell me in time I will forget the pain. Really? Do you forget? The time we have done without Katelynn is longer than the time we had her—she would turn six months today. I look at other babies; I am surrounded by them. At times I feel like a sippy cup of bitter milk left out, and other times I feel like honey, time sweetening what I had. And as the milk is found tucked away in secret hiding places by Ailsa, I too try to tuck my sadness in a creative place. Remember, the same milk can stay refreshing in a different environment. When pain grips me, I just have to get out of the heat, pour what doesn’t work down the drain and put myself in a place of peace, love, and friendship. The quickest route to this is through prayer. So to those you who may be standing near when someone tells me to cheer up when I am laughing, or you hear them tell me how lucky I am… Don’t be surprised if while laughing I smack them and walk away for a better environment, you are welcome to come join me—just be prepared to laugh with me.
Time can be our enemy or our friend depending on the environment we place ourselves. I am a mom and to me that means bitterness is not an option. How could I bring that example around ANY of my children? Don’t they all deserve the best of me for the time we have?

Today walking back from picking up Ailsa at her pre-school the kids raced ahead on their scooters totally concentrated in their enthusiasm of kicking their leg back to pick up speed—so perfect. Today I silently mourn a mile marker, yet today, in the simplicity of their childhood, is just another day. I am so happy that they don’t share the concerns I have now. The concerns I had of my childhood would be alien to them. I brushed my hand over the tall grasses, theses same grasses I hunted out to hide me. I used to imagine building a life among them, to hide, to disappear. They see those grasses as something to wack. The idea of hiding from life, even with all that has happened, is foreign to them—I marvel at their resilience. I recognized that it has been some time since one of my children has cried themselves to sleep—tears, yes, but the despair has passed. We each mark today in a different way. I am glad they race ahead, kicking their feet up with excitement. I note to myself, I am walking, they can run. Katelynn may not be awaiting her heart surgery, as we hoped, and as much as I hurt from missing her—all is as it should be, and we are okay. We are so very blessed.

To say I feel sick today earache, throat, cold…would be an understatement—the irony of that has not escaped me—September 10th, the day that in my mind-- my life, my health, my mobility-- it all changed. It was when I figured out that the next few months of pregnancy were going to be very hard, very long—I had to change the activity of my life drastically and I had to pick a winning attitude—because I told myself, “little girl you have a long fight..” I thought then of the physical that I would have to endure the coming months loomed large—I had no idea the strength required to pull me, us through what was to come. I have since come to see the hand of mercy in it being so hard – we all pulled together as a family in such a way, each of us straining to do more than the normal, more than the expected, more than— each of us and I don’t refer to just Nathan and myself. Nathaniel and Ailsa, too, were magnified. We were being prepared to greet Katelynn, to embrace her for not only what she was to be, but for what time we had—no asking why, no anger, no regret—just an eternal perspective.
So to be sick today is ironic and brings with it the perspective gained by not only surviving, enduring well and above all gratitude. God carried me through months of physical pain I still can’t wrap my mind around, and carried us through the greatest challenge of my mortal life—loosing time now, here with my child. I am amazed we survived; I am amazed by Katelynn-- her strength, her presence. I am filled with gratitude to God, beyond gratitude I have ever felt. I wish I could find the words, as I look back—the pain of it so intense, I have not yet found time to dull the hurt of not having Katelynn. In some ways the intensity of it grows—but that said; for all the hurt I feel, the missing her, the aching I am grateful. Grateful for the strength God gave me, to live her life with no regret. To be honored to have time with her, it is funny how I both resent times passage and want it to be slower. I am grateful to know God’s strength, comfort and promises really are enough to calm the worst pain—pain that when I would think of my child dying, to think of my child suffering, the human mind just stops. It can’t imagine it, can’t cope—God really does hold us, and sooths. He isn’t fooling us, He means what He says—I don’t just believe Him now—I know it. And I am grateful for that.
So a year ago today, I thought I had it rough, sick, hurting and months of pain before me—little did I know I was being worked over to hold an angel. I am walking now, have been for over a week without a cane—it feels good very good. If the price of being Katelynn’s mom were that the cane and I were always a pair—it would be worth it to know Katelynn and taste of the goodness, the strength of God. So in perspective, I have an earache, sore throat and a cold—I have endured worse--and as I say that I laugh a little laugh of irony… isn’t that funny? Why am I the only one laughing?

Sacrifice

For years I have said,
“Sacrifice, putting yourself in
a better position to be blessed.”
Now with empty arms…

Hurts depth surprising
Ripping me from joy—
Why all prior pains,
Dim when compared?

Sacrifice—what beforehand
Had I given up, left at His feet..
Each soon showed the wisdom
Of the offerings, adjustment made…

None touch the loss now extracted
My arms now ache for what
They once held so tenderly—
My child, my girl—Katelynn.

My smile betrays my hidden pain.
Faith, promises and covenants
All will be right all made possible
By He who knows our anguish.

Think of there, she remembers us
We hold the honor of her—so the
Sacrifice is one of time, now missing.
Waiting for eternity, enduring time.

By Leta Greene