Happy Halloween!
Well, we're trying our best to make it a happy Halloween anyway. This is my favorite holiday of all time and I had some high hopes for today. Today Theodore is dressing up as Pooh Bear, Michael will be Tigger, and although I tried to come up with an alternative costume I will still be Kanga. I miss my little Roo.
I stand by what we've been saying though. Abigail came at the perfect time, in the perfect place, surrounded by the perfect crowd. As each day without her goes by, it gets harder for me to remember that truth. My mind keeps wanting to go in different directions - questioning if there was anything I could have done to extend her life with us, dwelling on those little details that didn't go my ideal way, and wishing I could hold her again. I can't afford to do this though.
First of all, I can't go back and change anything anyway. I also can't change the fact that time is moving forward and she is in Heaven instead of our home. My body is already forgetting her and I can't change that either. Whether I am ready or not, Theo is continuing to grow and learn and change, Michael is going back to work tomorrow, and with the holiday season starting today there are travel plans to make and responsibilities I have to give my attention to.
Today I put my maternity clothes away. That was horrible. Before too much longer I will be tucking away Abby's things into her memory box. I don't know when I'll be ready for Michael to put the bassinet back in the basement to store but that will have to happen someday too.
We're saying goodbye and entering a new season. The season without Abby. The season of remembering her.
I cannot change anything about that hour I had with her. And I cannot change the fact that we must now find a way to live without her. What I can control is how I remember my precious daughter.
So today I want to share with you the story of how we buried our baby. Because as horrible as that sentence sounds, Saturday and Sunday after she was born were the holiest and most beautiful days of my life so far. And rather than allow my mind to form regrets, what-ifs, and wishes that can never come true, I am going to choose to remember the truth: our time with Abigail was holy, beautiful, and I would do it all again in a heartbeat. I'm going to include links to some of the things we used for those of you who might want them - this is just a note that the ones to Amazon are affiliate links.
On Saturday, October 22nd, Michael took two of our friends with him and went to the cemetery to dig Abigail's grave while I rested next to Abby at the hospital. Friends and family dropped by the hospital to sit with us and to say goodbye to Abby. The palpable peace I wrote about in her birthday post early that morning while you all slept was still present in that room.
We were discharged late in the afternoon. I was wheeled out of the room, Abigail swaddled in my arms (a soft blanket over her just while we went through the hallways so that no one would lean over to see her and receive a shock), and all the way down to the car in the parking garage. I can't tell you what an unplanned mercy it was that there was an elevator that went straight to where Michael had parked our car. I didn't have to worry about anyone staring at us or congratulating us or giving us condolences or any of that. The peace followed us out of the hospital room and straight into our car. I held her the whole way home.
We walked in our door to a flurry of friends deep cleaning our house. My stove-top and oven haven't looked this good since we moved in 5 years ago! Michael and one of our friends had rescued and cleaned our cradle that I thought had been destroyed in this year's flood. While friends continued to clean our house and feed my toddler dinner, we took Abby back to our room. We'd taken several cold packs from the hospital so we activated a few of those, laid the quilt Michael's Grammy made for Abigail on top, and then gently laid Abby in the cradle before leaving the room and closing the door so we could go see our son.
It was a good evening. I was absolutely exhausted from not sleeping Friday night but so blissfully happy to be home with my family and friends who bought us dinner and showered me with presents before leaving when it was time for Theo to get ready for bed.
We had some very sweet time with Theo and Abigail that I won't share here for Theo's privacy. I'll just say that it was the most natural thing in the world and so helpful for all three of us to process. We had some beautiful conversations about heaven that I know will continue for years to come. While Michael bathed Theo, I unwrapped and reswaddled Abby "Moses style" so that I could take her little hat off. She didn't need it anymore and to tell the truth, Michael and I both liked her much better without it. She was perfect and beautiful just the way she was - the hat was for everyone else. I kept Abigail's cradle close to me, within arms reach, all night.
On Sunday morning we transformed our bedroom into a nursery for Abby - a sanctuary for us. Michael set up fairy lights and candles all around her. We moved the nursery glider and a few books I wanted to read to Abby into our room. I laid out her shroud and a special blanket on our bed. We were moving purely on instinct and for the first time in my life, I fully knew what it meant to be still before God.
I had no specific plans for Sunday when I woke up that morning. All I knew was that I wanted to go to our church's service and that we'd go to the cemetery to bury Abby at 4 pm. All of the details about preparing her body and how the rest of the time would be spent were a mystery to me. I'd intended to do all kinds of research and make lists and purchases and have plans but I'd run out of time.
When I woke up early Sunday morning there was a peaceful, quiet stillness in our home. So gently that I could have easily mistaken them for my own ideas, God poured the plans for the day into my mind. And I laid there in that quiet stillness mentally flipping through the details I didn't plan and just wondered at them. From waking, to preparing her nursery, and through the whole process of preparing her for burial, God provided every single thing we needed. There were objects in our house that He'd placed here for this purpose but that I hadn't known about until it was time.
Michael put Theo down for his nap after lunch and then went outside to sit with family and friends in the yard. Inside, two of my friends helped me turn our home into a temple.
I was sitting with Abby in her little nursery space in our room while they cleared a space for us to bathe her. We had this cd of Scripture lullabies playing softly. When I came out, we all warmed up drinks and got out chocolate to snack on. Because every girl should have a warm beverage and snacks with her bath. :)
We heated up water and filled the infant tub. I don't really like roses because they die so quickly and my least favorite color is pink. But one of those little details I'd woken up with was that I needed a pink rose. It was the one that confused me the most. I asked God about that one because all the other details made sense to me. And in that quiet stillness of the morning, just as gently as He'd gifted me all the details, He told me why I needed a pink rose:
"Because you're going to give Abigail a rose petal bath. Because like a rose, Abigail's life with you was beautiful but short. And because Abby's grandpa needs to buy her the only flower she'll ever receive."
So I'd called Pops and asked him to find me a single pink rose before lunchtime.
We broke up the petals and scattered them into her bath. And then suddenly I remembered the Epsom salts. I'd bought them thinking maybe we'd use them for the bath while I was in labor at the hospital but when that time came I didn't want anything in the water. But then as we were breaking up the petals I was wishing I had something scented to put in her bath and that's when I realized why those salts were in our house: they're rose scented and they were always meant for Abby. It was the same way with the chocolate we were snacking on - I'd bought it for a snack at the hospital but then I'd been unable to eat while I was in labor because I just had no appetite. There was also the candle and Bible.
Abel Speaks had sent us a candle. I'd considered that we could use it in the future on October 15th for the Wave of Light but beyond that I'd mostly forgotten about it. We lit the candle for Abby's bath. Because a girl's also gotta have a candle with her bath. :)
The Bible has Abigail Esme Judd embossed on the cover. We stamped Psalm 139 with Abby's footprint but I was sad to own a Bible for her that would never get used. As I sat with Abby in her nursery sanctuary and waited for my friends to arrive, God poured Scripture after Scripture into my mind. I typed out the references and gave them to my friend. As we bathed Abby in her rose petal bath, my friend read the Scriptures over us all. And so Abigail's Bible did get used.
When I finished washing her and drying her and trimming her nails it was time to put her in her jammies. We all paused for a moment to take a drink and breathe. I told my friends about how I'd found Abby's jammies. It was the first thing I got anxious about this year after the diagnosis. I was so preoccupied with finding her the softest pajamas but I wanted them to be sage colored and I needed them to be footless because I wanted to be able to kiss her tiny feet and look at them without unwrapping her all the way. And yet I also needed them to be small because odds were that she would be tiny. I obsessed and worried over this for a couple of weeks before finally giving it a rest and letting it go for awhile. Then late this summer I picked the search back up only to find the perfect jammies for her almost instantly. I loved the description: "what comes before a rainbow? The perfect storm!" I thought "the perfect storm" was a great way to describe my anencephalic baby girl.
We got back to the task of preparing Abby and as I started to dress her in those jammies, my friend picked the Bible back up and began to read again. I didn't plan this, y'all. God just orchestrated it. The next Scripture in the list was from Luke 12. R began to read "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothes..."
The presence of God in our apartment was so undeniable throughout this entire process. I keep encountering people who cannot understand how we have "handled" this so well. We're not handling anything. This is the peace that surpasses all understanding. If you had felt Him as I have felt Him - nearer than my own breath - you would know that there was no other explanation.
I swaddled her back up and asked my friends to let Michael know we were done and to give us some time alone with her. When Michael came back inside to say his goodbye, he took his shoes off before entering our room. He's the one who said it felt like our home had turned into a temple. When he was done, I read to her and talked to her in the nursery chair. Two of the books I read were Near and Known - children's books we just discovered this month about Psalm 139. And I told her how much I loved her and said goodbye before wrapping her in her shroud.
Theodore wanted to hold her and sit with her in the chair before we left for the cemetery. I will treasure that moment forever.
The drive through the cemetery was beautiful with all the autumn leaves. The weather was perfect. Pastor C gave a short eulogy about Hannah and Samuel and how our children are only ours for a time before we must give them all back to God one day. There were so many sweet words about the resurrection exchanged between those who were there.
Michael, Theo and I took her to her grave. It was decorated beautifully with wildflowers before we laid her inside. We sang our hymns and the doxology - the same way I always do with Theo when it's naptime. Michael prayed. And then we all buried her in flowers and dirt.
It was the most beautiful weekend of my life. And now I feel better after telling you about it. I was so sad this morning - about all the things I cannot control. But I can control how I remember her. That's one of the beautiful things she has taught me. Every time the doubt and the worry and fear has come knocking on the door of my mind this past week and I have reflected on my weekend with Abby, I have felt the peace of God come flooding back in. He has been faithful and good through it all. And He gave me the most beautiful and sacred time with my baby girl. What a gift!
That is what I choose to dwell on today: the gift. I pray that you can also dwell on the gifts He has given you rather than all the other variables you cannot change. That you would feel peace in His presence. And that tonight as children come knocking on your door and asking for treats, that you would delight in them and love them for the gifts that they all are.
One of my Gifts is in heaven. Tonight I'm going to enjoy my other little Gift and I think I can do that with a happy heart now. Thanks for helping me remember so that I can enjoy my favorite day of the year. :)
Here's the list of Scriptures God gave me for any of you who may be looking for that:
Exodus 14:13-18
1 Corinthians 15:35-58
Psalm 139
Psalm 27
1 Thessalonians 4:13-5:11
Luke 12:22-31
Psalm 23
Revelation 21:1-5
Absolutely beautiful
God is amazing. Thank you for that reminder.