A Special Day

"I call upon the persons here present to witness that I Larissa, take you Marcus to be my lawful wedded husband. Marcus, you're my best friend; I'm so grateful God gave me to you to be your wife. I promise to love you unconditionally, to honour you with my words and actions, and to always respect you. I promise to pray with you and for you, to encourage and support you. No matter what problems we face - whether sickness, poverty, sorrow or otherwise, I will be faithful to you. I will laugh with you and cry with you, because you are my best friend, the love of my life. Marcus, I give you my heart and my love, from this day forward, as long as we both shall live."

Two years ago today, when I said those words, I had no idea that just 14 months later, my husband and I would face a sorrow greater than we could have imagined. And yet, through it all, I have never doubted his love for me, or mine for him. When I promised to always pray with him and for him, I didn't know that for months those prayers would be begging God for comfort, hope and strength. When I promised to laugh and cry with him, I didn't realise that sometimes the laughing and crying would be simultaneous.

Marcus, thank you for loving me like you promised; for always wiping away my tears and providing me with that desperately needed hug. Your patience and kindness astounds me frequently and never once have I doubted that you love me. I'm so glad you chose me.

Thank you for making me smile when I didn't think it was possible and for not minding when I am silly at serious moments. Thank you for keeping me calm (and being ok when that means letting me have a Josh Groban song on repeat!) and taking such good care of me and our babies. I'm hoping the next two years are easier than the two we've had so far, but even if they aren't, I love you. You're my reason to be brave.

Let them praise the Lord for His great love and for the wonderful things He has done for them.

Psalm 107:21

Life Update

It occurred to me recently that a lot of people don't actually know what I'm doing this year, so I thought I'd take the chance to fill you in on what life looks like at the moment for us.

Me:
I'm working two days a week, homeschooling two lovely girls. They are 13 (year 8) and 10 (year 5), and are such a pleasure to work with. I never imagined ever doing something like this but when I was asked if I would do it, it seemed like I had no reason to say no! It's been the perfect job to get me up in the mornings, and starting to re-enter "normal" life (whatever that it)!

I'm also volunteering at church on Mondays, helping our wonderful Children's Pastor with all sorts of things related to children's church. It's been great! It's nice to have something to do on Mondays, but it's also flexible, so if I'm having a bad day, I don't have to go. 

I have my final exam for my Hebrew class next week, and then the semester is over. I don't think I'll be studying next semester, as it's actually been quite a struggle to focus and remember things.

Marcus:
He's working two days a week with a friend from church, mowing lawns and doing general gardening. The other days he is doing maintenance and grounds-keeping at College. God has been so faithful in providing work.

Ariella:
Four months today since I went into labour. One of the things that I love hearing from others is that they miss her too. It's been four months, so I can understand that people are mentioning her less. But hearing people say "I miss her too" is really special to me; I love knowing that others loved her too and wish she was still here with us. 

I saw this photo on The STILL Project's Facebook page, and it definitely sums up how I feel. It was created by CarlyMarie, who does a lot of art and writing in the baby loss community.

No matter what I've been through in the past four months, despite the pain, agony, grief and despair, I would still choose Ariella. She's my daughter, and I love her. I would still choose her.

I am not okay

It's been almost four months since our precious Ariella died and was born. Four months. It's been both the slowest and fastest four months for my husband and I. On one hand, it feel like longer than four months since we held our sweet girl, saying hello and goodbye too close together. And yet we can't believe that we've managed four months without our girl...how could that much time have gone past already??

I cry less in public these days. I make it to more social events than I used to. I even manage to work two days a week. I volunteer in the Children's Church most Sundays. I sometimes bring baked goodies to events. 

I am, somehow, getting through this year. But I want you to know that I am not okay. 

Crying less in public doesn't mean I cry less. It just means that I'm tired of always being so vulnerable in public, and can better hold it in until I'm in the safety of my home.

Making it to more social events than I used to doesn't mean I make it to as many as I did before Ariella's death. It just means that I've learnt to put on a brave face and attend at least some things.

Working two days a week doesn't mean I've conquered the anxiety of going out. It just means that I've found something  not too confronting to do that makes me feel like I'm making a difference and that I'm useful.

Volunteering in the Children's Church in no way means I'm alright to be around children. It just means that I needed to get back to some sort of "normal", and since Children's Church was normal for me before Ariella's death, I can normally hold myself together for a few hours each Sunday. Just because I can be in the Children's Church does not mean I can be in the creche. I can't. 

Bringing baked goodies to events doesn't mean I can always cook. It just means that on that particular day, I was able to convince myself to go into the kitchen, as opposed to the days when the mere thought of cooking leaves me in tears, unable to physically make myself do it. 

Just because I'm still here, still standing four months after Ariella's death, does not mean I am okay. I'm not.

I am not okay. 

I get angry - when people do something insensitive, when they expect me to be "moving on" (whatever that means), when people forget that my husband lost his daughter too. I'm not the only one grieving, he is too. And I get angry and hurt when people don't ask how he is going. I am not okay with people focusing on me to the exclusion of my husband. 

I get sad - when people take it for granted that they will have kids, when people complain about the children they do have. I understand that sometimes children can be tiring and frustrating, I've looked after them enough to know this is true. Just don't complain in front of us. We would give ANYTHING to have Ariella alive, even if she was a screamer who never slept or let us leave the room without a tantrum. Please think about what you say about children in front of us, and please remember that if you have a living child, you are blessed. No matter how frustrated or tired they make you.

I get overwhelmed - at the thought of getting up, going out, cooking dinner. But I'm also blessed, by a friend who made us a meal "because we might want a break" and by a friend who willingly agreed to make us a meal when I asked.

I get tired - of crying, of being vulnerable in public, of feeling like I don't fit anywhere except bereaved parent support groups. 

We miss Ariella more than we ever thought it was possible to miss someone. It's been almost four months, but please don't expect us to be okay yet. We're not. 

For better or worse

"Larissa, do you here in the presence of God and these witnesses declare your commitment to Marcus and choose him as the one with whom you wish to spend your life? Do you take him to be your husband, to love him, comfort him, honour and keep him, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?"

When I was asked this on my wedding day, the answer was a resounding YES. It still is. But I think back to that day, and how happy we were. Did we really know what we were saying when we declared that we would love each other for better for worse?? That the worst time would strike only 13 months after that wonderful day? That it would drag on and on and on, as the roller-coaster of grief that started on January 28 just does not stop?

I don't have my daughter with me. But I'm so glad to have my husband, for better for worse.

My hero

My husband is my hero. Why? Well I'm glad you asked!

It's because he's so perfect for me; he always takes care of me and so often he knows what I need before I do.

I don't think I could put into words what he means to me. From staying up late with me because I can't sleep, to agreeing to do all the shopping so I can avoid Mothers Day items in the supermarkets, he never ceases to amaze me with his thoughtfulness.

But it's not about what he does; it's about who he is. He's the most thoughtful, caring, generous man I've ever met, and I am beyond honoured to be his wife.

People tell me I am strong and brave for blogging about my thoughts. But if it wasn't for my husband, I wouldn't even be strong enough or brave enough to get out of bed each morning.

I love you Husband.