It's that day again...

Aidan's birthday.  He would have been 12 today.

Aidan David--May 24, 1999 - September 30 - 1999

Today we remember him.  And miss him.  And rejoice that he is safe and whole in the presence of our Redeemer.  And thank God for the ways we have been shaped because God let him come into our family, and because God let him come Home.

We love you sweet boy.  Happy Birthday.

Genesis 50:20 (from Joseph's story)

...but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done..."

scarred, but whole

It's been a year since I first shared about Aidan in this post.  I thought I would write tons more about him and our journey, but for some reason, it's taking me a while.  But as we arrive on the anniversary of his heavenly homegoing again (11 years!) I have more to say.

People often ask me if you can ever heal from the pain of losing a child.  Just to be clear, I don't claim that losing a child is the worst pain you could ever suffer.  I don't know what it's like to get a terminal diagnosis, to lose a parent or spouse, or to be abused in any way...I know what it is like to lose a 4 month old child.  It absolutely sucks.  (pardon my french, but it fits).

I remember the day Aidan died, we felt a sense of relief at first.  Sadness, yes.  But oddly enough, relief.  We finally weren't worried about him, and he was no longer suffering or facing a long list of surgeries and repairs.  But as we entered our home without the hope of ever bringing him home...the deep pain of grief overwhelmed us.  It actually physically hurt.  We cried like we never have before or since.  We held each other and sobbed the deepest sobs I've ever heard.

It was like a piece of my heart had been torn away,  physically ripped from my body.  What was left was a heart with a gaping wound, one that bled and oozed with each beat.  I know that is a little dramatic, but that is the way I can best describe it.  In the days that followed, I explained it that way several times to kind, listening ears.

Months passed, years passed.  We grieved.  We journeyed some rough roads.  We healed.  God's grace proved sufficient, just as He promised. 

Yet, I did not return to the person I was before I was Aidan's mom.  I never will.  I am changed...in more ways than I could begin to describe, or even comprehend.  And I am whole.  WHOLE.  Really.  My heart has healed completely.  The gaping wound no longer bleeds.

Nor is my heart the same as it was before.  You see, it has a scar.  The evidence of it's wound is there, but it is not at all hindered.  The scar is actually a beautiful part of my heart, and in a way only God could accomplish, the scar has made my heart stronger.

I must admit the scar is a tender spot though, and if it gets hit just right, the pain returns for a time.  The tears flow, and the wound aches.  Yet even in the ache, even in the remembering, my heart is whole.  God has healed me and redeemed the pain.

I wouldn't trade my scarred heart.  It's a gift.  And I'm grateful.  

Perhaps your heart is scarred from pain that God has healed...if so, thank God with me today for His redeeming grace.  If your heart is still bleeding, I ache for you.  Yet I trust (even if you can't at this point) that if you cooperate with God's touch in your life, in His timing, He will knit you a beautiful, strong, scar.

happy 11th anniversary in heaven, sweet aidan. 

it's just a part of their life

Yesterday would have been Aidan's 11th birthday.  He's gone, but very much a part of our family.  On his birthday each year, we honor him by having a family night.  We visit his grave, and usually go out to dinner.  Sometimes we do something fun--just the four of us.

Sitting at the cemetery yesterday, where one child is buried, I watched the other two.  They bopped around, noting names and dates of the little ones buried in "The Garden of Angels"-- a part of the cemetery set aside for babies.  They paused at their brother's grave, as well as at the newer grave of their cousin Sadie.  They placed rocks--on which they wrote messages--on both graves.

As the sun sank in the sky, we couldn't help but notice Pickle's tall silhouette.  She was so small the first time we came to see her brother's "name".  Much time has passed.  Having a brother in heaven is not odd to these two.  It's just part of their life--their reality.

Bubba asked yesterday morning (on his own initiative) if he could bring some mementos he has of Aidan to school--wanting to introduce his classmates to the big brother he never met.  It is important to him to acknowledge Aidan's life.  I understand his teacher read the entire memorial bookmark to the class--including the lyrics to the song we had printed on the back.  Bubba said she cried a bit as she read.  Bless her for allowing Bubba to share this part of his life with his community at school.

It's just a part of their life--my other two.  A normal, but important, part.  God has woven Aidan's story into theirs.  I think it's beautiful.  I'm unwrapping this gift today with emily at chatting at the sky.

Remembering...

11 years ago today we met our second child, Aidan David.  He only shared life on earth with us for four months, but changed us forever.  Today we remember Aidan and we celebrate his life. Happy Birthday to our sweet boy!

You can read a bit of Aidan's story here.

remembering Sadie

I can't let this day pass without acknowledging it's significance to our family.  One year ago today my sister Kerry gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, Sadie Grace.  I was in the waiting room, but my heart was in the delivery room, aching so deeply for my sister.  You see, we already knew that Sadie had moved on to her heavenly home.  As we held her precious body that day, and kissed her, and admired her, she was already resting in Jesus' arms.  


I felt so sad, and so numb.  This was a little too familiar.  It had been almost 10 years since we had said hello to our little boy Aidan, only to say goodbye to him 4 short months later.    I couldn't believe that my sister and brother-in-law were experiencing the same grief we had endured.  I couldn't believe my mom and dad had to say goodbye to another grandchild, and watch another daughter grieve.  


But regardless of all the complicated emotions I felt a year ago today, what I KNEW was that God would walk them--us--through.  That the evil of the situation would not be able to harm them.  That amazingly, when facing a parent's worst nightmare, they would not be swallowed up.  Sadie wasn't the only one being held by our loving God--we all were.  The song "Held" by Natalie Grant captures what we experienced when we lost Aidan, and what I trusted Kerry and Jeff would experience too.  The chorus says:


This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was when everything fell
We'd be held


Yes, we had been held.  I specifically remember during Aidan's life the feeling of Someone outside myself holding me up as bad news threatened to consume me.  I remember the comfort of Jesus' arms as I sat on my couch each day for months and cried and missed my boy.  The holding is very real.  And I'm so thankful.  That I experienced it myself, and could hang on to the fact that Kerry would experience it too.  It was that Hope that propelled me through the blur of days surrounding Sadie's death.


I don't understand why Aidan and Sadie didn't get to stay with us...but I do know that God used their lives to change us, to mold us and to tenderize us.  He is a redeemer,  and is redeeming the suffering.  We choose to accept the loss of these precious ones as Big-G-Good, in spite of the pain of the choice.  With our hearts soft towards Him, He allows us to see glimpses of the reality of the Good.


We love and miss you, sweet Sadie.  Until we see you again, enjoy the love and joy of our Savior.  

the Hope I find in the Garden

picture: www.lostseed.com

"Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, "My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will."  Matthew 26:39

It's a hard portion of scripture.  The anguish in the garden.  Those He counted on were mere humans and asleep.  He anguished to the point of sweating blood.  I don't like it.  My Savior--all-knowing--knowing what was to come.  It was part of the Plan, yet He struggled with the anticipation, with acceptance.  He was fully God, but He was fully human as well.

Yes, it's hard to read.  Even harder to see depicted. I want to fast forward to the resurrection, to the defeat of pain and death and evil.  To the Hope.  To the realization of the Big-G-Good.  Yet, I miss out if I fast-forward.  I miss out on the hope in the midst of the torment of the garden.

Jesus asked His Father if this cup may be taken from Him...Jesus Himself asked this.

When we were going through my infant son Aidan's illness and death, I remember many moments when I anguished.  When I didn't want to be brave.  When I didn't want God's comfort in the midst of the pain...I wanted the pain to go away.  I wanted the cup to be taken from me, from Aidan, from my family.

And I felt guilty.  Deep down I wanted God's Plan,  God's Good for my life.  But when being brutally honest, I did NOT want God's Plan for me to include losing a son.  The Liar was there to tell me that I must not really love God, that I wasn't satisfied enough with Him to accept His will.

Then my Lord gently pointed me to the Garden.  To where He asked the same thing--please, if there is any other way to accomplish Your purpose, Lord, take this from me.

I find great comfort in knowing that even Jesus felt this way.

The key is that He didn't leave it there.  We know He went on to say--but not my will, but Yours.  And so did I.  So do I.

I don't want my own will (sometimes I think I do--that's for sure!).  I want God's Good.  For me, for those I love, and for His Kingdom.  And sometimes God's Good is hard.

But in the garden, for a brief moment, He asked for a way out of the hard.  It's OK when I do too.  There is no guilt in wanting a way out.  Jesus' example is there.

As long as I am resigned to God's will and not my own.  And through the tears, the anguish that this life sometimes brings, I can freely ask for relief, for another way.  Jesus did.

Current struggles are not as intense as losing my son, or some other life-alterers I've faced.  But I have the same feelings of wanting it to go away, and the brief guilt for not accepting.  For wanting things to be different.  The garden reminds me.

I can rest in knowing a loving Father hears me and loves me and hurts for me in my pain.  He sees it.  He is not offended at my desire for the pain to pass. 


And He rejoices in the offering that doesn't come from feeling--not my will God, but Yours.

Yes, there is Hope in the garden.

This post is linked up with other Holy Week reflections at Holy Experience.

unwrapping the prayer of everyday

There was a time in our lives where I was so aware of how desperate I was for God's help to make it through every moment. Hubby was in a very dark time and unavailable to me emotionally, physically, spiritually. I had an infant and a five year old. I was still grieving the loss of our four month old a year and a half prior. I was lonely and scared and very, very tired in every way.


It was during that time that I learned the practice of falling on my knees at the side of my bed each and every morning--before I even attended to my kids. My head was down, my hands open to receive.


I prayed my everyday prayer. I confessed my sin. I emptied myself of any agenda I had for the day. I asked God to fill me with His Holy Spirit. I pictured Him filling me to the tips of my fingers and the bottom of my feet--and especially filling my mouth. I asked Him to allow me to exhibit the fruit of His Spirit indwelling me (not an easy task for the Holy Spirit in my pitiful state). I asked for His strength to show kindness and gentleness and patience to my kids. For joy as I changed diapers. I asked for His love to flow through me to my husband who had nothing to love me back with. I asked for His encouragement and guidance for the day, for the morning, for the next few minutes. He refreshed me in that quick everyday prayer. And by His strength alone, I got up and was mommy and wife and daughter and friend. In many ways that time was a blur...but I survived. And as far as I remember, I don't think I killed anyone.


Most importantly, I learned in a new way that His grace is sufficient for me.


Over the years my everyday prayer has changed a bit. I still confess and empty myself. I still ask for the Holy Spirit to fill me, and that I could exhibit His fruit. What has changed is that instead of praying for strength to make it through each moment, I pray for sensitivity to hear His leading. That He would control each part of my day--who I run into, conversations, what I accomplish or don't. That He would allow me to complete His agenda for me that day. I want to "keep in step with the Spirit".


Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. Galations 5:25


I realized recently that I've gotten away from my everyday prayer. My mornings look different as we hit the ground running. I don't feel as desperate everyday. (I am, just not always as aware of it--yikes). And so, what do I accomplish during the day if I'm not careful? MY agenda. Seeking to fill my needs, my priorities--with my family, and even in ministry.


I do pray in the morning and throughout the day. I talk a lot, and I talk to God a lot. But I'm missing my everyday prayer.


Today I'm celebrating that each day is a new day, and that I can start again. I can pray the prayer of everyday. Have your way, Lord.


Unwrapping the small and sacred gifts of the everyday with Emily at Chatting at the Sky. Click here to read what other gifts are being unwrapped today.

unwrapping perspective

Not long ago, a friend called my attention to a short article written by John Stumbo, a pastor who attended our church for a season. It was about life-shaping metaphors--mental pictures that can motivate or immobilize us. Some mental pictures do not inspire or motivate us, but actually drain our energy.

Hmmm. I knew I needed to think about this. Drained of energy sounded familiar. What mental images are shaping my life?

Trying my best to be honest with myself, I discovered I was viewing my role at home as a task-master. With a family that copes with ADD, busyness, and recessive slob-genes--on my good days I am focusing on staying on task and keeping the rest of us on task as well. When I let up--everyone seems to, and chaos ensues. We have a family manual (seriously. think what you want, you are probably right.) that has checklists of daily routines in it. A morning, afternoon and bedtime routine for each of us. Whether we like them or not, they really help us--we all acknowledge it. Also in the manual are our "Super Saturday Jobs" we each do over the weekend to pitch in on the general chores of keeping a home. Again, my job is to make sure noone "forgets" to do their part. A task-master.

Bubba tackling a Saturday job

And being brutally honest, not just any task master--but one whose unstated goal was to get everyone (including myself) doing their thing efficiently, so that more time would be left for me to pursue my own interests. Not really who I hope to be as a wife and mom.

So, what is a more empowering mental picture for my role in my family? Hmmm. Who do I really want to be, what do I see as my role particularly as a mom? The word that came to mind is nurturer. I want to nurture my family...encourage, support, and challenge them. Ensure they have nutritious meals, clean clothes and a good night's sleep most of the time. I want to nurture my kids to become faithful, thoughtful, considerate, relatively-disciplined individuals who are armed with all they need to affect the world in the name of Christ. I don't want them to be crippled by hyper-criticism in the name of "teaching", nor do I want them to be coddled to the point of becoming entitled and lazy. Where is that balance? Nurture.

Nurture is defined as:

–verb (used with object)

1.	to feed and protect: to nurture one's offspring.

2.	to support and encourage, as during the period of training or development; foster: to nurture promising musicians.

3.	to bring up; train; educate.

–noun

4.	rearing, upbringing, training, education, or the like.

5.	development: the nurture of young artists.

6.	something that nourishes; nourishment; food. (from www.dictionary.com)

Yes, Nurture(r) is the right word. It contains both support and challenge. It's a much more positive way to view myself in my role. When I picture myself as a nurturer...I picture myself training, not enforcing; discussing more and commanding less; and giving lots of hugs and praise and care.

You might be thinking...who cares how you view yourself, it's how you act that affects others. You're right, but I find that changing my mental picture of my role results in acting accordingly. I'm more patient, more encouraging, less cranky and focused on my family instead of myself. And I find I read more with Bubba and giggle more with Pickle...among other things. :0) When I find myself slipping back into the selfish task-master mode...it is a pretty good indication that all is not right in my inner world. Time to slow down, reflect and refocus.

Because I can't nurture them if I don't allow myself to be nurtured by the One who nurtures me.

What mental picture is behind what you do? I'd love to hear your insight...

the first Christmas gift I'm buying

Ready or not, the Christmas season is on it's way. Every year I think I want to get my gift shopping done early...so I can enjoy the season. In the midst of all the selections of gifts to choose from I don't think about this:

It's true and it is NOT OK.

4500 kids die everyday from water related illnesses. Mamas are burying their children because they couldn't provide them the basic necessity of clean water.

Unfortunately I know the pain of losing a child. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Aidan's death couldn't be prevented. If there was something anyone could do to save Aidan's life, they would have done it.

However, these deaths CAN be prevented and YOU can do something.

So, today, November 13 let this be your first gift.

Ten dollars.

Ten dollars will provide one person in Africa with clean water for 10 years.

TEN YEARS.

Before you head out to the mall or toy store, consider this as your first gift of Christmas. It could very well be the best $10 you spend this holiday season. Spread the word.

Click here to be taken to the secure donation site. 100% of your donation will go to provide clean water. Click here to learn more about the First Gift campaign. Clink here to learn about the orgnization charity:water.

perfect for God's purposes

His imperfections were obvious. He wore some right on his crooked face. Those features were just the tip of the iceberg however, as his biggest struggles came from the problems within his 4 pound body.

one of the first pictures taken of Aidan

Usually when someone hears my short version of Aidan's story, they want to know what was wrong with him. Specifically. So if you are wondering the same thing, here you go--

Before he was born, at our routine find-out-the gender-ultrasound we learned that Aidan had a cleft lip and palate and an omphalocele. Don't worry, I had never heard of an omphalocele either. An omphalocele is when the abdomen doesn't close during development and part of the insides are outside. In Aidan's case it was his liver. Believe it or not, this is usually fixable--they put what is out back in. (It's a bit more complicated than that...but it is done.)

When Aidan was born by emergency c-section, I remember hubby leaning over to me in the operating room and gently saying..."he only has one ear". I didn't care about the ear--I just wanted him. However, finding something else wrong with him confirmed our worst suspicions--we didn't know the whole story yet.

After tests and xrays--the neonatologist looked at the reports and pictures and just shook her head. He was a mystery. The other struggles that surfaced over the next hours and days:

* his larynx and/or trachea was in not in the right position--

they had an extremely difficult time putting in his breathing tube.

* his right lung smaller than his left

* his spine had vertebrae anomalies--spine in an S curve

* one side of his rib cage was not formed properly

* he had a major heart defect (five things wrong with his heart!)

Everything that was wrong with him was "fixable" or he could live with. So, we began the journey of "fixing" him. Of course, fixing one thing impacted another...nothing was isolated. It was rather overwhelming, to say the least.

Through all sorts of tests and examinations by genetic specialists, we never got a diagnosis. He didn't fit any condition they knew of. The doctors used the word "fluke". yuck.

When we first learned of Aidan's issues in utero, my mom cried out to God--"God, why is this happening?? From the moment Dawn was pregnant, I prayed for a healthy, perfect baby." She says it was one of those rare times when God seemed to speak audibly into her ear. She heard "He is perfect for My purposes." We hung on to that word from God. God would redeem the terrible circumstances of Aidan's life. And He has. It looks different than we would have picked, but He has.

thank you bloggies for encouraging me to write more about Aidan--more to come

full...

It's Friday, and time to link up with my bloggie friends over at Home Sanctuary. Hi girls! I'm sipping my diet coke with you on the run today...so, excuse me for rattling off a few things in list format..that is the best I can do today!

1. Last weekend I went to the Women of Faith conference with my mom and sister. We had a terrific time. I laughed a lot and shed a few tears. I feel like I gulped in some encouragement and some things to think about as well. I imagine some of these thoughts might make their way into my blog as I have a moment to process them. If you have a chance to go to WOF--I recommend it!

2. This weekend (starting tonight!) I have a women's connection weekend at my church. It should be a great chance to connect (hence the name, huh?) with friends and make some new ones too. I also have some other church-busyness before and after the connections weekend--so imagine by Sunday evening when all is done I'm gonna be wiped!

3. This week was an emotionally distracting one as well--as we had some anniversaries to face. On Tuesday, we remembered both my niece and nephew who both were born into heaven before they made it to our arms. Earl Steven--17 years ago Tuesday--son of hubby's dear sister. And Sadie Grace--5 months ago Tuesday--daughter of my sweet sister. They each have affected my life profoundly even in their absence. Then, Wednesday was the 10 year anniversary of my son Aidan's death. That's a loaded week! I found myself reflective, but not sad. I mostly found myself in awe of all God has done in my life in the decade since Aidan died. I went for it and began blogging about Aidan--I'm sure there will be more.

4. With all that said, throw in a knee problem for Pickle requiring medical appointments and decisions about dance school, and a school project for Bubba that he needs some BIG help with...and I feel just a bit not-on-top-of-things and desperately need a day (or five) to catch up. I feel like maybe I should run and catch up with myself to see how I'm doing...know what I mean?

5. I did get to have dinner last night with a friend who I don't get to spend enough time with...and that was refreshing. My running-at-100-miles-an-hour heart got a chance to slow down, and enjoy some conversation with my friend. She entrusted me with some things that were awkward for her to share, which I completely appreciate. I love you, friend!

My life is full. Full of busyness and messiness, full of joy, full of running around, full of parenting, full of relationships, full of humbling (yikes), full of ministry, full of family, full of God's grace. I love what my life is full of...and I need to remember that as I feel the weight of it's fullness.

I haven't held him for a decade...

Ten years ago today we lost our precious son.

I've been wanting to write about my sweet Aidan for a long time, but haven't known where to start. So today, on the anniversary of his heavenly homegoing, it's time. I must confess that I'm afraid to write about him in some ways, because I know there is no way to capture in words how special he was, all his life has meant to me, how I've grown because I was his mom. I don't think I'll ever be able to articulate how proud I am to be his mommy. My utterings will not do him justice...so I trust that you will read between the lines and get to know him, us, and the God who sustains us a little better. Perhaps. Most of all, I pray our story is one that gives HOPE, to others walking their own difficult path...that God is faithful. That He really can redeem a terrible situation and make it Good.

This is bound to be a series of posts. So today I guess I'll start with an overview. Aidan David was born at 35 weeks with multiple birth defects on May 24, 1999. A few of his problems we knew about in advance through ultrasound. Many more were discovered at birth. It had been a rough pregnancy--as we tried to prepare our hearts to meet this little guy who would be so different than our dreams for a healthy baby, as well as navigate all that his problems meant for me physically while he was in the womb. I had many tests, ultrasounds, two amnios, many doctors appointments, surgeon consultations, debates over delivery methods, pre-term labor, bedrest, meds, late night trips to the hospital and worst of all, two hospital admissions complete with iv magnesium sulfate (if you've had it, you know...it's like being microwaved) desperately trying to keep him in.

We were told that everything that was wrong with his little body was "fixable" or things he could live with. So, within a day of being born, Aidan began his journey of many procedures and surgeries to "fix" his little body. He spent his entire life in the hospital, and eventually died from complications of open heart surgery at age 4 months, six days. Ten years ago today.

And although we were SO scared and unsure about our life to come with a special needs child, there wasn't the slightest doubt in our hearts that we wanted him. We loved him so much. Everyone did. His fighting spirit and bright eyes endeared him to all he met. We looked forward to the day where we could tell him his story. The story of how God performed miracles on his behalf. The story of what a fighter he was. Of the challenges overcome. We looked forward to having him tell us what it was like to be Aidan. And to sharing the days ahead--challenging as they might be--together. Trusting God together. And holding him. Yeah...and holding him.

It was not to be. Instead, he completed his earthly tour in just over 4 months. He accomplished the purpose for his life in that short time.

Since that day, he is the only one of my children that I don't need to worry about. I take great comfort in knowing he is eternally safe and completely whole. But I miss him so.

10 years. wow.

To read more about Aidan, click here.

never a dull moment around here

My dear sweet sister Kerry is facing another trial. On April 29, Kerry delivered precious Sadie Grace, who had died three weeks before she was to be born. In their grief, Kerry and Jeff have honored God and clung to Him. Kerry is barely recovered physically from the C-section, and now is facing another surgery today on her throat. She learned about it yesterday. She is told she will be in pain this next week as she recovers and waits to hear results on the thing they are removing from her throat. (I would call is something else if anyone knew what it was.)

We've been joking about it the last few days--quoting My Big Fat Greek Wedding--and the "bubopsy" and calling it her "twin". You know, trying to push the scary thoughts away with humor, at least a little bit. However, when the specialist got serious on her yesterday, the situation lost all funny.

When you lose a child (I did too--but that's another post to come), one result I've noticed is that you are left feeling very vulnerable. I mean, it is highly out-of-order to bury your child. So, if that could happen, anything could. So it's VERY easy to feel weak in the knees, even about the tonsillectomy Kerry faces today.

I trust God. He has proven Himself faithful. But, I don't pretend to know His plan. Sometimes His plan is painful. Oh, how I'm praying that the results of this surgery show that it's nothing to worry about. And praying that in God's mercy Kerry, who has been faithful in the most trying of times, would not experience much of the pain they've warned her of. That healing would come quickly. She's already emotionally exhausted from grief...I know she is leaning hard on the Lord. We all are.

If you are someone who prays, please pray for Kerry. I came across these lyrics today...on a friends blog. I've never heard this song. They sum up where I am today.

I have to believe, He sees my darkness
I have to believe, He knows my pain
I have to lift up, my hands to Worship
Worship His name

I have to declare, that He is my refuge
I have to deny, that I am alone
I have to lift up, my eyes to the mountains, thats where my help, it comes from

He said that He’s forever faithful
He said that He’s forever true
He said that He can move mountains
If He can move mountains
He can move my mountain, He can move your mountain too

I have to stand tall, when the wind blows me over
I have to stand strong, when i’m weak and afraid
I have to grab hold, a hold of the garments, the garments of praise

He said that He’s forever faithful (oh i know it)
He said that He’s forever true
He said that He can move mountains
If He can move mountains
He can move my mountain, He can move your mountain too

I have to sing praise, when the hour is midnight
He unlocks these chains, that bind up my soul
my sin and my shame He has forgiven, and made me whole

He’s got everything under control
I have to believe

Lord I believe, help my unbelief
I have to believe in you
I have to believe

For Kerry and Jeff

I want to post this song in honor of my sister Kerry and bro-in-law Jeff who are grieving the loss of their precious daughter Sadie, born still just over a month ago.

Been through some hard stuff myself...and have been "held" over and over again.  Trusting you feel it too Kerr and Jeff.  I love you.