Her favorite place to explore is my open dishwasher, and it keeps her occupied while I'm in the kitchen. (she must get that from her father...) She is also quite passionate about her nasal aspirator and will cry her eyes out if she gets a hold of it and you try to take it away from her. Bathtime has become like an act from Sea World! Splashing, crawling, shrieking, and twisting around - even with Sabrina's help it's quite the event!
We gave birth to twin babies July 18, 2007 only to discover a couple of months later that Nicholas had a fatal genetic disease called spinal muscular atrophy. He passed away November 27, 2007 and a week later his twin sister Olivia was diagnosed with the same disease. She passed away January 12, 2008. This is a memoir of their lives, as well as a place to share my journey through everything that has happened.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Zoe at 9 Months
Zoe reached 9 months on Christmas Day. That's when she also really started crawling. So many things to get to under the tree!

Zoe is a very good-natured little girl, and draws comment from everyone we meet on how happy she is. So far I have been very lucky because she has been quite content to sit and explore her toys. Now with her new-found mobility she has become much more determined to explore her world instead. She has started to four-point crawl, and is working on pulling herself up. I love how it's in her nature to learn methodically, trying and trying again until she gets it. That virtue will take her far.
Her favorite place to explore is my open dishwasher, and it keeps her occupied while I'm in the kitchen. (she must get that from her father...) She is also quite passionate about her nasal aspirator and will cry her eyes out if she gets a hold of it and you try to take it away from her. Bathtime has become like an act from Sea World! Splashing, crawling, shrieking, and twisting around - even with Sabrina's help it's quite the event!
We finally dropped Zoe's crib today. She is not a restless sleeper at all and will always be in the same place you lay her down. And it hasn't occurred to her yet that she could get to a sitting position from her back, so we hadn't felt a sense of urgency yet. But with how she's progressing over the last few days, we knew it was time. What a big girl!

Her favorite place to explore is my open dishwasher, and it keeps her occupied while I'm in the kitchen. (she must get that from her father...) She is also quite passionate about her nasal aspirator and will cry her eyes out if she gets a hold of it and you try to take it away from her. Bathtime has become like an act from Sea World! Splashing, crawling, shrieking, and twisting around - even with Sabrina's help it's quite the event!
Monday, December 20, 2010
Healed
I like to look back at my posts from the same time in previous years, just to see where I was at back then compared to where I'm at now. When I looked back at December 2008, to December 2009, and thought about where I'm at now in December 2010, I rejoiced.
The first Christmas without our babies was hard, and that's to be expected. Everything was still raw and we were still so confused. Last year had its hard places, but I encountered a turning point in my grief journey. This year, those raw places have been healed.
I wrote last year about the season of Advent:
I love this time of year. I love coming again to the end of another year, often weary and usually burnt out, and remember that I have a Saviour, one who came to bear my burdens.
The first Christmas without our babies was hard, and that's to be expected. Everything was still raw and we were still so confused. Last year had its hard places, but I encountered a turning point in my grief journey. This year, those raw places have been healed.
I wrote last year about the season of Advent:
The Advent season is about preparing your heart for the coming Saviour. I used to think it was more about fixing what was wrong about myself so I would be presentable for His arrival. I realize now it's about recognizing what it is in my heart that needs to be fixed by Him.and since then I stopped trying to fix my grief and allowed the Healer to do it. He showed me that He can't be anything but good and that He can be trusted with my precious babies. He has enabled me to be patient and wait for the day where we will be together again, in all our fullness.
I love this time of year. I love coming again to the end of another year, often weary and usually burnt out, and remember that I have a Saviour, one who came to bear my burdens.
a thrill of hope, a weary world rejoices...
for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!
for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Zoe at 8 Months
Zoe was quite taken with the volume and sound of her own shrieking for a while but has now moved on to singing and saying "ma ma". I'm going to choose to believe that she's actually saying the word. Just like when she was smiling at only two weeks. Zoe also eats quite a few solids and is an enthusiastic eater, which is a lot of fun.
I can't say it enough - what a blessed time we are having with our baby Zoe! In conversation recently with Sabrina, even she said, so matter-of-fact, "Everyone loves Zoe!" She is so proud of her baby sister.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Remembering Nicholas
It's hard to believe that it's been 3 years already since we spent a cold November afternoon saying goodbye to our son. It's been an amazing journey full of unspeakable sorrow and unexpected healing.Nicholas, I love that we lit a candle for each day you were with us. Whenever I light a candle on a cold winter evening, I think of you and know that you are in a much better place than we can even imagine. But I still miss you like crazy. I would have liked to be a mother to you much longer than I had. And then I remind myself that I just need to be patient and wait for that day when we will all be together again.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
This Journey
This journey has not at all been what I've expected. I'm surprised at where I've ended up. And I look forward with eager anticipation to what is still to come.I am well. I am happy! I can stand before you today and tell you that I am the happiest I have have ever been. And that is because of God's goodness.
I can't explain to you why my son was here for only a short time. I can't tell you why his twin sister had to leave just after he did. But I can tell you that God is good. And that He heals the brokenhearted. And that it's true that mourning does turn into dancing in its time.
And that it's OK.
I was hesitant to write this post. I was fearful of being judged for being a bad mother for flourishing after the deaths of her children. But where's the gift in that? Where's the hope in that? Truth is, I know that this story is not finished yet. It's like not reading the third part of the Lord of the Rings. If you end at Frodo and Sam's desolate journey into Mordor, you would think it was a horrible story. But we who have read to the end know that because of their desolate journey, there is great reward.
I have a Book that tells me the end of this journey. It is beautiful! And I get to see my little boy and little girl again. I believe it with all my heart.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Food for Thought
I came across this excerpt from Shattered Dreams by Larry Crabb on a new blog I've discovered and I think it's very timely, considering that November is such a time of remembrance.
We Christians are an impatient lot. We insist on gathering grain before it grows. We want to see flowers before spring and fruit before fall. When a brother or sister is going through a tough time, we insist that the Spirit’s work be obvious. Unless they speak of their trials from a spiritual perspective, we tend to apply pressure more than we dispense grace. We rarely believe that life is hidden in the barren tree. Let a friend express his exasperation with a four-letter word, and immediately we’re more concerned with his language than with his agony.
No farmer goes to the orchard in winter to pick apples. Christians do it all the time. And when the fruit isn’t there, we walk off in disgust. The good farmer patiently waits with his basket, knowing he will soon fill it with delicious fruit. …
Two unwritten rules eventually surface in our response to one who hurts. First, mourning has a time limit. … At some point, we insist on victory. Second, we think there’s a proper way to mourn. Ugly battles should remain out of sight. … Church is too often a place of pretense and therefore a place without hope. When brokenness is disdained, where the real story is never told, the power of God is not felt. Where brokenness is invited and received with grace, the gospel comes alive with hope.
Friday, November 5, 2010
A Time for Everything
There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven
Ecclesiastes 3:1
He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.
Ecclesiates 3:11
I am so aware lately of the passing of time. Sabrina has just turned 8 and Zoe is 7 months old! The twins would have been 3 by now. On a quiet, rainy morning recently, playing with who may be the happiest baby ever, I asked my husband if we could have another one. He promptly said "NO" and then what I thought was quite wise, "It's time now for us to move on as a family." I asked him what that meant, and he replied that it was time for us to go out and travel and do things together. Without being tied to an infant's demanding schedule.
I'm like Peter, when on the mountaintop with Jesus and Moses and Elijah, wanted to set up camp and stay like that as long as he could. Please let my babies stay babies, and my kids stay kids, and my skin stay young and firm. (ha!) Haven't we all wanted to build tents and camp out in those places we want to last forever? I'm starting to realize that we live in a constant state of grieving what was and being thrust into what's next, only some things are much harder to grieve than others. We as a culture have been sold the illusion that you can hold on to what you have as long as you want, but we all know that's unnatural.
Is this the acceptance stage of grieving? When you are so past the way things were that to stay there is unnatural? Where you can say, that's how it was, but this is how it is now, and it is good. And don't even ask me about what it is going to be like, because who knows? And when I have my moments where I sorrow for what was, I am grateful that I can now tenderly embrace it and then gently put it back where it belongs. In my heart.
and a season for every activity under heaven
Ecclesiastes 3:1
He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.
Ecclesiates 3:11
I am so aware lately of the passing of time. Sabrina has just turned 8 and Zoe is 7 months old! The twins would have been 3 by now. On a quiet, rainy morning recently, playing with who may be the happiest baby ever, I asked my husband if we could have another one. He promptly said "NO" and then what I thought was quite wise, "It's time now for us to move on as a family." I asked him what that meant, and he replied that it was time for us to go out and travel and do things together. Without being tied to an infant's demanding schedule.I'm like Peter, when on the mountaintop with Jesus and Moses and Elijah, wanted to set up camp and stay like that as long as he could. Please let my babies stay babies, and my kids stay kids, and my skin stay young and firm. (ha!) Haven't we all wanted to build tents and camp out in those places we want to last forever? I'm starting to realize that we live in a constant state of grieving what was and being thrust into what's next, only some things are much harder to grieve than others. We as a culture have been sold the illusion that you can hold on to what you have as long as you want, but we all know that's unnatural.
Is this the acceptance stage of grieving? When you are so past the way things were that to stay there is unnatural? Where you can say, that's how it was, but this is how it is now, and it is good. And don't even ask me about what it is going to be like, because who knows? And when I have my moments where I sorrow for what was, I am grateful that I can now tenderly embrace it and then gently put it back where it belongs. In my heart.
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