Sad and Chara

Surprise...

2012-02-21T09:18:00.001-05:00

Dear Miranda,

Daddy still misses you, I know I always will. I was at church, watching two of your cousins get baptized this past Sunday, and the fact that you're not here with me, that I won't get to experience these little bits of life with you, hit me like a ton of bricks. It's so hard knowing you're already in Heaven, and trying to be happy about that, when I feel so cheated here on earth.

I love you. I miss you. Give mommy a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Daddy

Save A Place For Me
by Matthew West

Don’t be mad if I cry
It just hurts so bad sometimes
‘Cause everyday it’s sinking in
And I have to say goodbye all over again

You know I bet it feels good to have the weight of this world
Off your shoulders now
I’m dreaming of the day
When I’m finally there with you

Save a place for me
Save a place for me
I’ll be there soon
I’ll be there soon
Save a place for me
Save some grace for me
I’ll be there soon
I’ll be there soon

I have asked the question why
But I guess the answer’s for another time
So instead I’ll pray
With every tear
And be thankful for the time I had you here

Endings...

2012-02-09T00:16:00.001-05:00

This is not at all how
We thought it was supposed to be
We had so many plans for you
We had so many dreams
And now you’ve gone away
And left us with the memories of your smile
And nothing we can say
And nothing we can do
Can take away the pain
The pain of losing you, but…

We can cry with hope
We can say goodbye with hope
‘Cause we know our goodbye is not the end
And we can grieve with hope
‘Cause we believe with hope
There’s a place where we’ll see your face again
We’ll see your face again

And never have I known
Anything so hard to understand
And never have I questioned more
The wisdom of God’s plan
But through the cloud of tears
I see the Father smile and say well done
And I imagine you
Where you wanted most to be
Seeing all your dreams come true
‘Cause now you’re home
And now you’re free, and…

We can cry with hope
We can say goodbye with hope
‘Cause we know our goodbye is not the end
And we can grieve with hope
‘Cause we believe with hope
There’s a place where we’ll see your face again
We’ll see your face again

We have this hope as an anchor
‘Cause we believe that everything God promised us is true

We wait with hope
And we ache with hope
We hold on with hope
We let go with hope

“With Hope”
by Steven Curtis Chapman

Every book, every story, has a final chapter. It doesn’t mean the story is over, it just means that we don’t get to read the rest of it. Hearts will still ache, wounds will still bleed, scars will still knit, and grief will continue to flow, like a mighty river, through our families for years to come, even as this final chapter is put in place. The story of Sara and Miranda will continue to be written on the hearts of those they loved, and those who loved them, for a very long time. However, the happy ending, the ride into the beautiful sunset, will not take place here on this Earth.

"Never again will they hunger;
   never agaain will they thirst.
  The Sun will not beat down on them,
   nor any scorching heat.
  For the Lamb at the center of the throne
   will be their shepherd;
   he will lead them to springs of living water.
  And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes."
          Revelation 7:16-17

I live with the hope of The Resurrection. I live with the promise that my daughter and wife are rejoicing in Heaven, worshipping the Living God with the angels and all those who have gone before. I live with the promise that they are made whole, recreated, resurrected, as God fully intended them to be. I live knowing that my love for them will never fade, but can also never grow beyond what it is today. I live knowing that I, and all those who believe, will join them in that resurrection when our time here is through.

I want to thank you for joining me, us, in this journey. The love, encouragement, prayers, and support of so many have been so welcomed, so unexpected, and I know they will continue, even after today. The story does not end; it’s simply recorded in a different way from today forward.

“We wait with hope
And we ache with hope
We hold on with hope
We let go with hope”

Sincerely,
Chad Cole

NOTE - this post was first published on 6/20/2011. As I consider the events of the past year, moving this post to "the end" of my blog seems like a more natural position for it.

Happy Birthday...

2012-02-05T16:53:00.000-05:00

Dear Miranda,

Today we celebrated your birth. A time of sadness. A time of joy.

Today, at the same time that you were delivered last year, a single pink balloon floated into the clear blue sky and we sang Jesus Loves The Little Chidren and Happy Birthday to you. What a contrast to the day you were born...today, the the sun was shining. The wind was calm. There is no snow...not a flake to be seen.

My dear sweet little girl, my angel. It's hard to express what not having you here feels like. There's a hole. A gaping hole that is supposed to filled with giggles, kisses, and birthday cake. Instead it's filled with tears.

Daddy is surrounded by love today. And prayers. Family. Friends. It's hard to feel so loved...and yet still feel so alone. There's only one thing I want today...you in my arms.

I love you. I miss you. I always will. Give mommy a hug from me.

Love,
Daddy

The worst day...

2012-02-05T00:49:00.002-05:00

Dear Sara,

It’s been one year…

…I remember those first few months…vividly…

Staring into the bathroom mirror…not recognizing the man staring back at me. Curling up in a ball on our bed, the family room floor, or wherever I might just happen to be, and crying…and hurting…physical pain and anguish that just can’t be described in words. I can still hear sounds that I know came out of my mouth, echoing in my head, but they are not sounds I could reproduce today…and I wouldn’t want to hear them coming from anyone else either.

A day came when I woke up and smiled…I cried because it made me feel so bad. Another day came and I laughed…out loud…and I cried because it made me feel so bad. A day came when I heard myself respond to a casual “have a nice day” with “you, too” instead of stone cold silence…and I cried because it made me feel so bad. Moving forward meant moving farther away from “us.”

It’s been one year…

…I’m not the man I was when I looked into the mirror that last morning. I never will be. I have to be a new man, a different man. I may look the same on the outside, but the inside has been completely rearranged.

I wake up most days and smile now…most of the time. I laugh without crying…most of the time. The polite phrases of society roll off my tongue without a second thought these days...most of the time.

I haven’t forgotten…I’ll never forget. I remember. I remember the good times, the laughter, the love, and the shared joy. I remember the good things, even when the bad things are right there in front of my mind’s eye.

It’s been one year since the worst day of my life. One year since I held your hand and listened as the doctors and nurses said they’d done all they could. One year since I last kissed your lips, since I last held your hand to my face, and said goodbye.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

The portrait...

2012-01-30T21:58:00.002-05:00

I can see you fly.
You are an angel with wings,
high above the ground.
(traditional haiku)

Recently, I’ve had this self-portrait Sara did in college sitting out where I can see it every day. It’s been on display in my dining room, where I get to look at it several times each day. I found it while sorting through some of her things a few months ago. My first thought was that it was “so Sara.” Most people would look at it and immediately think, or notice, that it’s just “not done.” The parts that are “finished” showcase her exceptional eye for, and use of, color and her attention to detail. It also showcases Sara’s penchant for starting projects…then letting them sit, unfinished, until she was ready to see them finished.

Thematically, it would be easy to say this self-portrait is the perfect analogy of Sara and Miranda’s lives – unfinished portraits, lives cut too short. However, I find I’ve been trying to focus on the portrait as a statement of life from the perspective of my faith. In Psalm 139:16, the Psalmist declares, “Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” (NIV) In the book Through A Season of Grief, Dr. Louis Palau shares, "The Bible clearly teaches that a brief life is not an incomplete life. We have our ideas of how long we should live, but the Bible says that every one of our days was written in God's book before they even happened.” You and I may look at Sara and Miranda’s lives as incomplete portraits…but in God’s eyes, they are exactly as He knew they would be. To be clear, I don’t believe this means their lives were as He planned them to be; only that they were as He knew they would be. To some of you, that may not sound like much of a difference, while to others it may sound like a huge difference; I find myself having to believe that God’s knowledge of their days, and deaths, doesn’t have to align with His plan for their lives. I believe that God planned on Sara and Miranda living full and complete lives. It was the chaos of sin and death that interrupted His plan, stealing them from this earth, and allowing them to enter into His Glory, albeit prematurely. I understand I’m treading in some deep theological waters here, and it’s highly likely that I’m floundering and simply in desperate need of someone to toss me a spiritual life preserver; however, I have to believe…I choose to believe…that the portrait of their lives is “complete.” The painting may appear unfinished, or incomplete, but I feel privileged to have been included in the brush strokes.

All in the family...

2011-12-26T20:38:00.002-05:00

Dear God,

It's me. Are you there? Are you listening?

The door is closed and locked. The lights are turned off. I'm laying in my bed, listening to all the children playing right outside the door of my room, and my heart hurts more than I can take. I can't leave to join in the family fellowship because my face burns and my eyes sting from the tears. All that's going through my head tonight is, "where is my little girl? Why is my little girl not here?"

Why did you give us the capacity to hurt like this? I've been trying so hard to just cling to the Rock; but, in this moment, right now, all I want is my daughter, sitting on my lap, in her Christmas jammies, her mommy at my side. Why?

Will you be there to help me through these next 3 days? Will you give me the Peace that passes ALL understanding? Will you hug my girls for me?

Sincerely,
Chad

First Christmas...

2011-12-21T09:59:00.000-05:00

Dear Sara,

It's almost Christmas...just not the Christmas we were supposed to be having. The tree should have been surrounded by gifts for our little girl's first Christmas. Her first ornament would have been proudly on display at the front of the tree.

Our families now approach a first Christmas no one would have imagined...one without the two of you. One where jig saw puzzles just won't be as jiggy, quilts won't be as quilty, and the twinkling lights will feel a little dimmer than they did last year.

We celebrate the birth of the King of Kings, our Savior, knowing that you and Miranda stand, worshiping, in His glorious presence. However, that knowledge brings little comfort to hearts that still wish you were here. Instead, we try to fill ourselves with the hope of the Resurrection. We look forward to the reunion that is still to come...but with sadness, because of what our humanness reminds us we do not have today.

We love you. We miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Thanksgiving...

2011-11-23T09:31:00.003-05:00

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving...it's been on the calendar for a while, hurtling towards us like that comet in Armageddon...only, at times, it feels there's no heroic crew preparing to save us from certain disaster.

It was easy to be thankful last year. We had been married over 14 years. We were starting the final trimester, heading quickly towards the birth of our first child. Life was simply good. Being thankful was easy, maybe too easy.

"...give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."
1 Thessalonians 5:18

The Word makes it sound so simple. Give thanks...in all things.

I know that I have things to be thankful for this year. I have a wonderful and loving family. I have supportive and loving friends. There are thousands of Christians, around the world, who pray for me, and my and Sara's families, regularly. I know a God who cares about me, cries with me, and wants to restore me...even if I don't know why He allowed this to happen. I know that He has a plan of restoration for me, even if I don't know what it is. I have a future...even if it wasn't the future we had planned.

Today I choose to be thankful that I was married to a woman whose legacy is written on the hearts and minds of family, friends, and coworkers. A legacy of joy, beautiful smiles, creative talents, and earnest laughter. A legacy of love, poured out freely on anyone who spent time with her. Today I choose to be thankful for the great gifts that God bestowed upon my life.

"Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His love endures forever."
1 Chronicles 16:34

I'm also thankful for my friend, Brian Dumont, for finding and sharing photos like these, from over 15 years ago, with me. So long ago, the only thing in front of us was the future. :)

I miss the rain

by Bride

There's a place I like to go back to

Time seemed to stand still

We ran wild, we had no cares

Take me back to the place

I wish there were a door I could walk right through

To escape this life

I want to go back to what we had

Times were better then

I miss the rain, I miss the rain

My heart's been dry, like the tear in my eye

I been hurting for you again

I miss the rain, I miss the rain

My heart's been dry, like the tear in my eye

And the pain that I feel, Lord, I miss the rain

It keeps me young when I remember

In my mind the past still lives

I've held onto every thought, it keeps me so alive

The future holds nothing for me

If I can't hold you

I used to try and change the world

Now I change a little for myself

I miss the rain, I miss the rain

My heart's been dry, like the tear in my eye

I been hurting for you again

I miss the rain, I miss the rain

My heart's been dry, like the tear in my eye

And the pain that I feel, Lord, I miss the rain

I know there are those far sadder than I

They lost things they can't replace

Like the beauty in their eyes

But through it all, one thing is constant and remains

The Love of God erases all my pain

I miss the rain, I miss the rain

My heart's been dry, like the tear in my eye

First kiss...

2011-10-27T12:54:00.000-04:00

Dear Sara,

It was 16 years ago today...Friday, October 27, 1995.

You had asked me to go to Homecoming with you. You, the shy girl, beat me to the punch by just a few minutes...I would have asked you...you were so pretty and I just needed a few more minutes to work up the gumption. I'm glad you asked. :)

We went to the Homecoming dinner. I remember waiting for you in the lounge, so nervous, almost giddy. You came down from your room wearing a beautiful little black dress. The night went by so fast, and yet so slowly. I remember going to the after dinner party in downtown Jackson. We watched a movie...sort of. We went for a carriage ride through the city streets...and talked about us. We'd been spending a lot of time together...friends were buzzing about whether or not we were "a thing." We walked around the downtown area for a while after the carriage ride. I asked you if you liked the thought of "us." You said, "yes." Your eyes sparkled so beautifully, you were so modest and shy. We held hands, walking close together, our joy fighting the late October chill.

We drove back to Spring Arbor and hung out in the lounge a little while longer, but not too late. I remember it was getting close to midnight and we were both getting tired. You walked outside with me, as I was walking to my car...we stopped as we got to the end of the dorm...we said good night...and I kissed you...and you kissed me. Our first kiss. It's the only first kiss I remember so vividly. I floated home that night...alive with joy and excitement.

I miss your kisses. So soft, delicate, passionate, so full of life.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Daddy's little girl...

2011-10-26T19:19:00.000-04:00

Dear Miranda,

Three days wasn't enough. It will never be enough. You're always with me in my heart. You're always on my mind.

I went on a trip this past weekend, down to Atlanta. I went to the aquarium and saw all sorts of neat fish and wonderful creatures. I went for a walk in their beautiful park. I saw all the other families having fun; the mommies and daddies pushing their babies in their strollers. Daddy's heart hurts so bad.

I miss you. I love you. Give mommy a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Daddy

You'll be my special girl...always.

The power of music....

2011-10-13T00:10:00.000-04:00

Dear Sara,

I'm sitting here tonight, realizing it's been 8 months, to the day, since family and friends gathered together and said, "Good bye." Grief today is not nearly as potent as it was back then. Today it comes in small waves, memories lapping at the shore of my consciousness. I think about you and Miranda a lot, but no longer all day every day. I find that I don't cry as often as I used to; but, when I do, the hurt feels so fresh and powerful that it seems like I lost you yesterday.

I listen to music on the radio now, more so than I ever did when you were here. There are songs that reach out and touch me in ways that music never used to; a simple phrase from a song, a chorus repeated softly, inspired words written for others but sung directly to my heat. These tend to be the moments when those waves come crashing in. I don't fight them. Even though it hurts, it feels good to remember, to know that you're no farther away than my thoughts.

I have a playlist I recently created in iTunes called Crying Songs. I was listening to several this evening and wished that I could have sung this verse to you in those final seconds we had together. I don't know if you would have heard me or not, but it's what I wish I could have said if I'd known how bad things were.

"And with your final heartbeat
Kiss the world goodbye
Then go in peace, and laugh on Glory's side, and
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus and live!"
Untitled Hymn - Chris Rice

Fly to Jesus, my angles!

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,

Chad

8...

2011-10-07T19:56:00.000-04:00

Dear Sara,

Will a time come when I stop counting the months since I last saw your smile? Heard your laugh? Kissed your lips? Held you close? We just passed 8...

The trees are changing color. The maple in front of our house has already changed and will lose it's leaves over the next couple of weeks. We are now entering our third season without you and Miranda. Spring...summer...winter to come soon enough...too soon.

It was sixteen years ago this month...you and I had noticed each other and started spending copious amounts of time hanging out together in the dormitory lounge. You asked me to Homecoming 16 years ago this week...it took me a long time to learn what a huge step that was for such a shy girl.

...and now it's 8 months. Eight months since death stole you from us. Eight months of wishing, wondering, learning...wishing.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

In the stillness....

2011-09-16T19:47:00.001-04:00

Dear Sara,

It's been over 7 months, but the quietness of the house has caught me off guard. I was just looking at some pictures of you and the stillness engulfed me. I can hear the clock, ticking away softly on the family room wall. I can hear the muted sound of traffic passing by on West Ave, even with all the windows closed.

It's what I don't hear tonight that has me unsettled. I don't hear you. I don't hear you sitting silently beside me while you read a book or work on the cross stitch you were creating from scratch, without a pattern. I don't hear your sewing machine humming away in the dining room. I don't hear the sound of the shower running as you get ready for bed each night. I don't hear the sound of Stevie purring as he basks in the attention you would have lavished on him. I don't hear the sound of your heart, as I lay my head on your chest, and snuggle into your embrace. I don't hear the sound of our little girl rustling in her crib, stirring from her nap, over the baby monitor. I don't hear her cries indicating she's hungry, or wet, or just being a baby. I don't hear the giggles and coo's that would most certainly have been echoing through our home on this quiet Friday evening.

It's what I don't hear that makes my heart hurt again and causes the tears to sting in my eyes. It's what I don't hear that makes me ask why? Why couldn't we have left home 1 minute sooner...or 1 minute later? Why didn't we change our minds and just stay home when that storm came out of nowhere? Why? I know I won't find any answers. Not in this quiet. Not in this world.

I'll turn the TV on in a little bit. The house won't be so quiet...but the stillness will echo loudly in my heart.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

15 years...

2011-08-10T11:51:00.001-04:00

She is Gone - by David Harkins

You can shed tears that she is gone,

Or you can smile because she has lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that she will come back,

Or you can open your eyes and see all that she has left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see her,

Or you can be full of the love that you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,

Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember her and only that she is gone,

Or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back,

Or you can do what she would want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

"Out of all the gifts You’ve given

Besides the very gift of life

There is none as precious to me

As the treasure of my wife."

How Do I Love Her?

by Steven Curtis Chapman

Dear Sara,

Fifteen years ago today we stood in front of our family, friends, and God…pledging our lives, and love, to each other “until death do us part.” The “until we are old and gray, having lived long and fruitful lives” was implied. Most days it’s still hard to believe that those vows have been fulfilled…or…maybe it’s more that I don’t want to believe that they have been fulfilled. In daily conversation, you are still “my wife, Sara.”

This day has been on my mind for weeks. I’ve been completely unsure of how to approach it. Should I celebrate the fourteen and a half happy years we shared? Could I celebrate, even if I wanted to? Should I go somewhere? Should I be with people or be alone? My answer came to me late in the afternoon yesterday…maybe you sent it to me.

Last October we went up north on a color tour. It was something we had always wanted to do, but working for the public schools made taking time off work during the fall a little difficult. In retrospect, I’m obviously glad we made the time to go. We both enjoyed ourselves. It was a happy trip. We knew it was probably our last vacation with just the two of us.

One of my favorite memories from the trip was sitting out in Grand Traverse Bay, at Mission Point State Park, watching the sun set behind the Leelanau Peninsula. You were cold; I was comfortable. You snuggled in next to me as the sun went down. We had seen Miranda in an ultrasound just a week earlier; it was our first, last, and only sunset as a family. It was a perfect end to a perfect day. We were both so happy, and excited about where our lives were heading.

That brings me back to today. It finally occurred to me to go back to that happy place…a place where the future was unknown, yet filled with joy…a place where we both felt safe, happy, and content. So, that’s where I will celebrate our 15th anniversary, sitting in Grand Traverse Bay, watching the sun set over the Leelanau Peninsula. As the last rays of the sun disappear behind the horizon, I’ll sprinkle some of your and Miranda’s ashes in that place. The joy of that memory will forever exist there, as it exists in my heart.

I love you. I miss you, today more than any other. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Half a year...

2011-08-05T19:58:00.000-04:00

Dear Sara,

Six months.Twenty-six weeks.One hundred and eighty-two days.

That's how long it's been since the world was robbed of your smile, your laugh, your beauty, your being. Our families will never be the same, scarred by this amputation for the rest of our lives. Even with great hope, we live with great sorrow.

The paradox of time rears its ugly head. So many of those days have passed so slowly; it's impossible to fathom that it's been that long. So much of our grief feels so fresh. In other ways it feels as though what we had was a lifetime ago. It's a memory seen through the lens of history or a movie we've seen a hundred times; one where we know the lines by heart, because we spoke them, yet it feels as though someone else must have said and done those things.

We love you. I love you. We miss you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Love. Always...

2011-06-19T10:51:00.000-04:00

"God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame."
Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Dear Sara,

One year…365 days…the world is so different from what it was supposed to be.

That night, one year ago today, was supposed to be the end. The test was supposed to be the one to confirm our fears, the one that would prompt a call to the doctor’s office on Monday morning, to set up the visit where we would let them know that we had come as far as we were willing to come and that our journey to parenthood would have to take a different path. I waited quietly in the family room for you to return with the bad news. You shouted my name and I panicked. My heart raced as I ran up to the bathroom to see what was wrong. There you stood, in shock, holding the test…with two pink lines. So much joy, so much hope, so wanted, so longed for, so unexpected…our little secret.

The journey was too fast. The end came much to soon, in so many different ways. So many stories left unwritten. So many kisses unkissed. So many hugs unhugged. So many songs left unsung. So many paths unexplored. So much life unlived.

Thank you for giving me 15 great years. Thank you for being a loving and kind wife. Thank you for being a passionate lover. Thank you for giving me the great gift of a beautiful daughter. Thank you for being a pure child of The Father.

I realize today that you were never mine. You were simply on loan to me from God. Even though my heart questions why he allowed this to happen, I know that you’re singing with the angels, praising the King of Kings, and experiencing love, life, and joy in ways that I can’t even begin to comprehend.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Father's Day...

2011-06-19T00:52:00.001-04:00

"I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach."
Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Dear Miranda,

One year ago today, my life changed forever. It was one year ago today that mommy and I found out that you were going to be a part of our lives. It’s hard to describe how different things are, how much harder they are, than what we had imagined just one year ago today. The unspeakable joy replaced by unspeakable grief. Tears of joy replaced by tears of sadness.

On this Father’s Day, I know that you are in the presence of The Father. I know that you will never have to feel the pain, both physical and emotional, that this world imparts to those of us who remain. I know that you are experiencing joy on a magnitude that you never would have experienced here. And yet, knowing all this doesn’t take the hurt away. Knowing where you are, knowing how good the place you are is, knowing that someday I will join you there, knowing these things does not fill the hole left behind by your absence.

Today is not what it was supposed to be, not what the joy of a year ago had promised. I thank God every day that I had 3 precious days with you, but my heart aches for today. My heart cries out to God and wants to know why my precious little girl isn’t here in my arms. My heart points to the emptiness of losing you and wonders why God could not have intervened and allowed me to celebrate this day the way it was meant to be celebrated. My heart loves you and wants to have you here, it always will.

My dear, sweet, perfect daughter, I will always love you. You will always be my firstborn, daddy’s little girl. There will never be another like you.

I love you. I miss you. Give mommy a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Daddy

A day in the park...

2011-06-09T19:13:00.000-04:00

Dear Sara,

I saw a dad with his little girl at Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore today...it made me think about Miranda, and you, and how much fun it would have been to go on a vacation, carrying her around, seeing the sights, just being together as a family.

Those little moments of sadness permeate my day now. The brief glimpses into other people’s lives…the life that we were looking forward to…

I had a another moment today…a Forrest Gump moment. There came a point in the story in which, during his run back and forth across America, he stopped, turned around, and went home. He just decided he was done running. I was riding on County Road H-58 when I was overwhelmed with a desire to just go home…until I thought about the fact that home is just so empty right now. The laughter, the crying, the tears, the smell of poopy diapers…all missing.

The part of me that was you still aches in your absence. It always will. The scars will always be there, ready to send a quick reminder of the way things were…once upon a time.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Walk in the water...

2011-05-31T11:44:00.001-04:00

Dear Miranda,

Daddy went down to the ocean today. He walked in the sand and out into the water. He watched all the other daddies playing with their babies...daddy misses you a lot today. His tears taste like the ocean.

I love you. I miss you. Give mommy a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Daddy

Location:Crown Point Cir,Corolla,United States

Family...

2011-05-29T10:22:00.000-04:00

Dear Sara,

The Visser clan gathers today, on the western banks of the Atlantic Ocean, for several days of family fellowship. It's difficult to describe the feelings associated with this. Seeing everyone will be good and fun. Seeing everyone will also be very difficult...a full house that feels empty because your voice and laughter aren't going to be there intermingling with the rest.

A soft sadness covers me today, seeping into every thought and emotional crack and crevice.

I love you. I miss you. I always will.

Love,
Chad

Fairy tales...

2011-05-20T21:26:00.001-04:00

Dear Sara,

I've been traveling a lot lately. It gives me plenty of time to think and process. For some reason the whole concept of fairy tales popped into my mind the other day. They're so happy...but I think that's because all we get to read is the beginning. They all end with, "and they lived happily ever after."

The fairy tale doesn't have the chapter where you sit in a broken van and watch the life draining from your wife's face, feeling helpless and scared. It doesn't have the chapter where you hold your daughter to your chest and wait...and wait...as her heart beats its final beats. No one would want to read the fairy tale where we really got to see what happens later on. If feels like our fairy tale ended with, "and they lived happily, until the end."

The hard part about losing you this way is that there was no time to say goodbye. I feel horrible about it, but I'm sometimes jealous of people who lose their loved ones after a long battle with an illness. They sometimes get months, or years, to say goodbye. I don't think that would make it hurt any less, but I do wonder if it "mutes" the pain of loss due to stretching the goodbye out over time. I guess I don't know, and I don't really want to test my hypothesis.

I think about things I would have wanted to say to you, if there had been time. I'd want to thank you for the "fairy tale." For showing me that true love does exist, and that it is simple and pure, not complex and chemical. As I travel I have time to think about what that means for my life. I'd want to thank you for showing me that marriage is good, wonderful, full of wonder and adventure, and something that SHOULD be pursued, not given up on. I'd want to thank you for making marriage something that I want to experience and share again with someone else, using the template and skills created and learned over 15 years. Thank you for that life gift.

I feel like I'm moving into the final, but longest stage of grief. The one that lasts the rest of my life. I've just recently started to have "moments" when a normal, everyday event sparks the memory of you, and Miranda, and brings soft tears to my eyes. It usually passes within in minute or two, and often ends with a happy smile of remembrance on my face. I have come to accept that my love for you has reached its peak (but what a peak it was) and will grow no more; but, it will also never shrink. It's in stasis, unchanged until the day when the Lord calls me home to join you, and all those who have gone before.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Hallmark doesn't make a card for this...

2011-05-08T07:57:00.000-04:00

Dear Sara,

Happy Mother’s Day…

I know you’ll be having a good day whether it’s celebrated in Heaven or not. Things are a little less happy down here. I was so looking forward to being with you and Miranda today. I started thinking about this day and how great it was going to be back on June 19, 2010. Now I’m not sure what to do with myself. I guess it’s a good thing the day is packed with “activity” for me.

I hope you don’t mind, I’ve been writing to you a little less frequently. It’s not that I don’t think about you all the time, or that I’m forgetting about you and Miranda. As time moves on, I find there’s less and less to say. My heart feels your absence, just as keenly as it did 3 months ago, and no words can change that. I know that that empty spot will just always be there, regardless of what happens over the course of the rest of my life.

I guess I don’t have a lot to say today, either. My tears are just going to have to do my talking for me. I mostly just wanted to wish you a Happy Mother’s Day, mommy. If God is gracious, He’s giving you an extra special day in Heaven, at least I hope He is.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Like a child...

2011-05-08T07:43:00.000-04:00

Dear Miranda,

Today is Mother’s Day. It also marks 3 months since you joined mommy in Heaven. It’s bittersweet, to say the least. I hope they celebrate Mother’s Day in Heaven. I hope you get to spend a special day with mommy.

Back down here on earth, I just recently started saying “yes,” without hesitating to think about it, when people who don’t know me ask if I have children. I only have to explain that you’re in Heaven every once in a while.

Daddy loves you. He wishes you were here, with mommy, so that we could all snuggle in bed together this morning and celebrate this special day.

I love you. I miss you. Give mommy a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Daddy

My dear sweet daughter...

2011-05-03T09:59:00.000-04:00

Dear Miranda,

I watched a video clip today that grandma filmed, on Sunday, at the memorial service for children who have passed away at CS Mott Children's Hospital.

I want to hold you again. I want to feel your little heart beat against my fingertips. I want to touch your soft skin, and kiss your beautiful little feet, hands, and face.

There's a hole in daddy's heart that will never be filled. It may become surrounded, encased by a cocoon of love, but it will never be filled.

I miss you and mommy a lot today. I know you're having fun in Heaven, but I still wish you were here.

I love you. I miss you. Give mommy a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Daddy

I dreamed a dream...

2011-05-02T01:01:00.001-04:00

Dear Sara,

I dreamed about you last night. I know I've dreamed about you frequently since the accident, but this is the first dream I've had that was this vivid; so vivid that I've been thinking about it all day long, as I drove from Louisiana to Louisville, Kentucky.

I was at your apartment. I say "your" apartment because it was not "our" apartment. I didn't recognize it, it wasn't some place we, or you, had every lived, and yet it was full of your unfinished crafts and projects (and a cute little gray rabbit who hopped around the room...free range.) I was asking you about why we couldn't be together, why you couldn't come home. You were sad, not because we weren't together anymore, but because you couldn't find a way to help me understand why we couldn't be together. You were happy when we were together, but you were even more happy now. You kept trying to assure me that it was going to be OK, that given time I would be happy again, just not with you. I woke up with a broken (re-broken) heart and I've been fighting it all day.

I think this is probably the result of my heart and my head trying to close the gap between what I rationally know is true, that you won't be back, and what my heart wants to be true, that this is all just a bad dream from which I can still wake up.

As I said, I've been driving all day. When I left Louisiana this morning, my heart was full of expectation, I'm heading home! Over the course of the day, it began to dawn on me that this isn't like the trips I've taken before. Going home used to mean you were there, waiting at the door, ready for a big hug and a kiss. Going home doesn't seem as exciting now.

We're quickly coming up on the 25% milestone. Nearly 1/4 of a year gone since you left. It seems too fast, it doesn't feel right to watch you and Miranda slip this quickly into my "past." My head keeps urging me to move forward, to climb that hill, take those steps; my heart keeps dropping anchor.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Traveling man...

2011-04-29T08:42:00.002-04:00

Dear Sara,

I'm on the road, down south right now. Spending my nights in hotels and motels; the beds feel too big, and empty, without you by my side.

I'm finding myself having more better days now. I still think about you and Miranda almost non-stop. It still hurts, and probably always will, but the pain is muted, like a burn. You can always feel it, but it doesn't prevent you from going about your daily life. There are occasional spikes when something rubs or presses against the raw spot, but even that sharp inflection soon mellows into a dull hum.

I've got my SPF 100+ with me. I'm trying hard to remember to use it regularly. This southern sun will surely test it's limits. :) Thanks for always worrying about me and instilling the habit of remembering to put it on.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

He is risen...

2011-04-23T22:37:00.003-04:00

Dear Sara,

In just a few short hours we celebrate the resurrection of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Knowing that you are celebrating and worshipping in Heaven brings a sense of joy, even in the midst of losing you. We celebrate the very thing that will ultimately allow us to join you some day. The precedent has been set. Death wins…temporarily. One day, it will be defeated. Until then, we suffer the pain and consequence of original sin, the breaking of a perfect communion. Even in the midst of pining for a different outcome, to a past I can’t change, I recognize how inappropriate it would be for God to take you from where you are now, experiencing the things you’re experiencing, and put you back in a position where you would one day have to die again. C.S. Lewis was right in asking if Lazarus hadn’t really gotten the raw end of that deal; having to die not once, as apportioned to all mankind, but twice.

I can’t help wondering what you would have made for Miranda to wear to church on this special day. I have no doubt it would have been a beautiful homemade dress, it leaves an empty feeling knowing none of us get to see her in it.

It’s hard to believe we’re only 14 days away from being ¼ of the way through the first year of your being gone. I still experience, and am acutely aware of, the mystery of the passage of time. Some days seem to pass so slowly. Some days it feels like the accident just happened. And yet, I look at the calendar and realize that almost 3 months have passed. I also still experience days when I look in the mirror and think, if only for a moment, who is this man staring back at me? I’m not the man I was, I’m not the man you knew…I am, but I’m not.

I recognize the seeds of acceptance being sown in my heart. I also recognize that acceptance does not having anything to do with moving past the hurt or getting over it. Acceptance is just what it is, acceptance. Accepting that you're gone doesn’t mean my heart won’t hurt, but it can, and does, put that hurt in a different light. I recognize that it's part of a natural progression, one that I know you would have wanted to happen.

“He is not here: for he is risen, as he said.” – Matthew 28:6

He is risen! He is risen, indeed!

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Traveling plans...

2011-04-19T16:06:00.001-04:00

Dear Sara,

I’m bored…or maybe not. Maybe I’m just listless. I find myself having about 3 to 4 good hours of activity most days. Then the rest of the day just feels empty. I’m not complaining, ‘cuz I don’t feel like doing anything…maybe I’m just killing time until I leave for my motorcycle travels.

In most regards, I’m looking forward to my upcoming trips. I’ll be seeing new places, lots of new places, and new people, lots of new people, but I also know I’m going to have to work through the guilt of being gone. I know that I don’t have any reason to feel guilty, but it’s something I just won’t be able to help. I’ll never forget how frustrated you were at the end of that first year of my having a motorcycle; how oblivious I’d been to the fact that going on all my weekend rides had made you feel ignored. It was a hard lesson to learn, but learn it I did. I hope the balance we found was good, you never mentioned anything about it after that first time, so I think I did a pretty good job of making sure I spent more time with you than I did with the motorcycle. Three months ago I was thinking about selling it, to make sure that making time for you and the baby would never be a problem…there might be some guilt to work through from that perspective, too.

If you’re not too busy worshipping God and enjoying Heaven, you may want to peek in on Stevie from time to time while I’m gone. I’m having a house sitter stay with him, but I know it will still be tough on him with both of us gone. I’ve been trying to break him of the habit of wanting to drink out of the faucet in the tub. The first day Katu was gone, with her new owner, it was the first thing he did. He ran straight to the tub, hopped in, and looked up at me with expectant eyes. Teaching him to drink out of the faucet was cute…when you were around to do it. I moved his water bowl from the bathroom counter into the tub. He just stares at it like it’s beneath him to drink out of a bowl now.

The pictures of you and Miranda are going up around the house. I find I can only work on a couple at a time, so they’re going up slowly, but it’s nice to look around and see your smiling face on a regular basis.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Hearts and heads...

2011-04-14T21:53:00.001-04:00

Dear Sara,

Today was a difficult day. I’ll spare you the details, but it was a stark display of how far apart my head and my heart are. I’ve had so many “better” days recently that I just wasn’t prepared for today. Even though I think about you and Miranda all the time, I'm finding that the hard grieving is coming is shorter bursts, with more time in between them. I'm also finding that the tears that constantly filled my eyes just a few weeks ago have receded, they still come out regularly, but only when called upon as certain instances in my day bring them out.

My head (that logical part of me that sees reason, understands how the world works, etc.) knows that you and Miranda are gone and nothing will change that. My head says that life will go on. My head says that things will be OK. My head says that I may even find happiness with someone else some day. My head allows me to deal with the world, because it’s still turning. The sun still comes up in the east every morning and sets in the west every night.

My heart is so very far behind my head…

My heart wants you back. My heart wants the things that my head is telling it I can’t have. My heart shrieks loudly when my head tries to console it with thoughts that the future will be OK. My heart punches back with furious anger when my head tries to reason that life will go on and that I may eventually find happiness again with someone else. My heart doesn’t want anyone else. My heart wants you.

It was my heart that sent shouts of guilt to my head around three in the afternoon on Saturday when I realized I’d been enjoying my motorcycle ride for about four hours and still had almost three hours left before I’d be home. It was my head that reminded my heart you weren’t at home waiting jealously/patiently for me to return and spend time with you. My heart didn't fight back, but it hurt a little.

I wonder if my heart will ever get to where my head is? I tend to think that it may get close, but never all the way. You and Miranda will always occupy a quiet little spot there, no matter how far it moves forward in this process…and that’s probably the way it’s supposed to be. The way God intended it to be.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Spring is sprung...

2011-04-09T22:14:00.000-04:00

Dear Sara,

The weeks seem to be going by a little faster now. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. My mind sometimes has a hard time discerning how much time has passed. It still feels like it was just yesterday that we were together while at the same time feeling likes it’s been forever since I was able to hold you. The memory of your face and touch are so fresh while the reality of them falls farther and farther into my past.

I keep hearing the song God is God, by Steven Curtis Chapman, on the radio when I’m in the car. It was the first song I heard on the radio while I was driving from our home to your memorial service. I can still remember how the reality and finality of things was just really starting to sink in. I’m sure I’d heard the song before, but that day was the first day I really listened to it. The chorus ran through my head all day long that day.

God is God and I am not
I can only see a part of the picture He’s painting
God is God and I am man
So I’ll never understand it all
For only God is God

It’s been running through my head frequently since then; it’s the truth that I have to hold on to whenever I start to question why the accident happened and why you and Miranda aren’t here enjoying our quiet life.

Your flowerbeds are all cleaned out, weeded, and mulched. They look so nice, but it doesn’t feel right knowing you’re not here to enjoy them or spruce them up and make them look beautiful. I’m still not sure what I should do with them in the long run. I don’t know the last thing about flowers and/or gardening. I just knew I needed to have them cleaned out and looking nice for this spring and summer.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

PS - Stevie still misses you, too.

56 days...

2011-04-02T17:22:00.001-04:00

Dear Sara,

I often wonder if you notice the passage of time in Heaven? It’s been 8 weeks since you left here and I certainly notice, as do our families, but I can’t help but think that it doesn’t pass the same way for you as it does for us.

Each and every day still brings its mixed bag of emotions. Some days go by painfully slow while some evaporate before it feels the day has even started. I’ve reached a stage where your being going paints the whole day, whether short or long, in a light shade of grey. Grief can still catch me off guard with a strong wave, upending my emotional state, but more often I just feel neutral, slowly bobbing up and down between slightly happy and slightly sad.

I’ve been reading a daily devotional written especially for people who are grieving the loss of someone they love. This week I ran into my first daily reading that just felt like it was in the wrong place in the book. It felt like the wrong topic with the wrong advice at the wrong time. It was about saying goodbye to your loved one. The author wrote about the importance of saying goodbye as part of the healing process. They then encouraged the reader to write a goodbye letter to their loved one as part of the process of moving on. They did say that if I wasn’t ready to do that that I should bookmark the page and come back to it when I was ready. Saying goodbye at this point seems a little premature. I could probably say it, but I wouldn’t mean it. Maybe these letters are just a long goodbye.

I know I don’t need to say it, but it always feels like I do…I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Woof, woof...

2011-03-30T17:13:00.000-04:00

Dear God,

I’m standing in the peanut butter aisle at Meijer. My feet are frozen to the floor. I came her for one thing, Nutella, and they’re all out. To make matters worse, it’s on sale (which is probably the reason it’s all gone.) All I wanted was a jar of Nutella and the shelf is empty.

Then it hits me, like Mike Tyson’s fist into my gut, I’m all out of Sara and Miranda. The shelf is bare. All that’s left is the yellow tag proclaiming “Grief – 2 for 1 sale!” Meijer will restock that shelf with Nutella tonight…my Sara and Miranda shelf will still be empty come tomorrow morning. “Sorry, we’re all out of that product…I think they stopped making it a little while ago.”

People say I should be angry with you. I’ll admit, there are times when I wonder why I’m not. What I do feel makes me feel more like a dog, one that’s been beaten by the neighborhood bully. A dog that sits quietly at his master’s side, bruised, sore, and wondering why his master didn’t stop the bully. The master is a big man; he could stop the bully any time he wanted. Yet, it seems the bully is allowed to kick all the dogs he feels like kicking whenever he feels like it. Maybe I am angry, but just not an angry that I recognize.

I cried all the way home from the store. A little bit out of grief, more because I’m tired. I’m tired of the sadness. I’m tired of missing them. I’m tired of asking questions that don’t get answered and won’t get answered. I’m tired of feeling blank and aimless. I know these are all things that will pass, over time, but I’m tired now.

I don’t subscribe to the thought that you took my girls away from me. I don’t think that was your plan, even though you knew it was going to happen. I sticking to the theory that just because you know all, doesn’t mean that it’s all part of your plan. I only question why you allowed them to be taken. You could have stopped that truck. You could have diverted that storm. You could have protected them, even if you didn’t stop the truck. You could have made one of us sick, so we didn’t even leave home. I have questions I don’t believe you can answer, not in a way that I’ll understand, not until I get to Heaven, and then the answers won’t really matter any more, will they? I believe you were there welcoming them into Heaven, but that’s not the same as taking them from me.

All I wanted was some Nutella, I left the store with a lot more than I’d bargained for…and a lot less.

All I ask it that you be careful when you pet me, that bully kicks pretty hard.

I miss Sara. I miss Miranda. Please give them a hug and a kiss from me.

Love(?),
Chad

What if...

2011-03-28T21:51:00.000-04:00

Dear Miranda,

If things had gone according to plan, we would have been taking you in for your four-week check up this week.

If things had gone according to plan, you would be sleeping in your beautiful little crib right now. Instead, it has become a memorial to you, with various blankets, dolls, and books, which greets visitors to our home when they walk in the front door.

If things had gone according to plan…if, if, if.

But they didn’t, did they? At least not according to my plans.

I look at your pictures and can’t help but think, “what if?” and “would you?”

I know thinking about these things doesn’t change anything; but, I can’t stop the thoughts from coming.

What if I could hold you here on my chest, as I watch the Red Wings, waiting for mommy to get ready for bed?

Would you find it soothing for me to sing you a lullaby?

Would you recognize the sounds as I read you the books I read you while you were in your mommy’s belly?

Would you be a good sleeper or would mommy and daddy both be exhausted from your late night sleeplessness?

Would you like riding in the car? Would you fall asleep just as quick as mommy used to when we were in the car?

So many questions…and no answers, at least for now.

I love you. I miss you. Give mommy a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Daddy

I'll Fly Away...

2011-03-27T15:52:00.000-04:00

Dear Sara,

I went back to church this morning, my first time since the accident. Grief’s cold blade pierces deepest when I participate in activities from the old normal, the times and places when we would have been together just “doing life.” My tears started when I walked in the door. They eventually stopped flowing on the outside, but I can still feel them falling in my heart, even now.

The church youth lead the service today. One of the songs we sang was Jesus Loves Me. The last time I sang it was seven weeks ago, while I held our daughter, after they took her off life support. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to sing it again, it makes me cry just to think about it.

On my way home, the song I’ll Fly Away came on the radio. So much hope for those who are already gone and so much anticipation for those of us who have a great reunion to look forward to.

Some glad morning when this life is o’er, I'll fly away
To that home on God's celestial shore, I'll fly away

I'll fly away, oh glory, I'll fly away
When I die, hallelujah by and by, I'll fly away

When the shadows of this life have gone, I'll fly away
Like a bird from these prison walls I'll fly, I'll fly away

I'll fly away, oh glory, I'll fly away
When I die, hallelujah by and by, I'll fly away

Oh how glad and happy when we meet, I'll fly away
No more cold iron shackles on my feet, I'll fly away

I'll fly away, oh glory, I'll fly away
When I die, hallelujah by and by, I'll fly away

Just a few more weary days and then, I'll fly away
To a land where joy will never end, I'll fly away

I'll fly away, oh glory, I'll fly away
When I die, hallelujah by and by, I'll fly away

by Albert E. Brumley

I got home and listened to this song over and over. Its message doesn’t make me hurt less, but it gives me something to cling to and the tears sting a little less.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Things I know...

2011-03-23T21:53:00.001-04:00

Dear Sara,

I've had lots of people tell me they can't imagine what I must be going through. I believe them. I couldn't imagine it either. We had talked about it – what life would be like without the other – but neither of us could have actually imagined it. It's so much worse than anything we could have imagined. Initially the pain is so deep that it has no boundaries, there's no way to measure it, contain it, or even really feel it. It's so big that you just begin to live in it, because you can't get around it or out of it. I don't know if it ever shrinks or gains dimension, but I've heard that it eventually becomes less overwhelming. I don't know anyone who ever said it goes away though. I think it just becomes a part of who you are, until you just don't notice it as much, kind of like a limp in your heart instead of your leg.

There are things that help me get through every day, things that I know, and things that no one can take away from me.

I know where you are. You're not lost; you're just not here.

I know how to get there...to where you are...eventually. It may take me longer, but the destination ends up being the same.

I know you loved me. I never doubted that for 15 years. Thank you for that gift, it helps me now.

I know you wouldn’t want me to quit living. We talked about it, not a lot, but it did come up. I would have wanted the same for you. However, I can tell you, it’s not as easy as it sounds.

I know that God loves me, even if he can’t answer my questions now. He shows me His love through our family and friends.

It’s not a long list, but it’s enough.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

A blog observed...

2011-03-22T21:46:00.000-04:00

Dear Sara,

So many thoughts go through my mind each day. Sometimes I have a hard time sifting through the noise to find meaningful patterns.

Missing you is now status quo. It’s something that I assume I’m doing. I occasionally surprise myself with short moments where I realize I wasn’t. It’s not that I’m not missing you during that brief period, I just stopped thinking about how much I miss you.

I’ve been thinking about how we both had our “own” lives, even while sharing a life for almost 15 years. We each had unique passions, which we let the other pursue without complaint (or at least without too much complaint.) I’ve been pondering if that may ultimately help me in the healing process. I look around the house, the yard, the garage, and I see the things that were uniquely you. I also see the things that are uniquely me. There is plenty of uniquely us, too. Time will tell. When I see the uniquely you, my sadness is that you’re not here to enjoy doing those things anymore; but, it’s the uniquely us stuff that hurts more.

I’m still finding a lot of resonance with CS Lewis as I read through A Grief Observed. Some people say that times like these are a test of faith. Lewis didn’t agree with that thought, “God has not been trying an experiment on my faith or love in order to find out their quality. He knew it already. It was I who didn’t. In this trial He makes us occupy the dock, the witness box, and the bench all at once. He always knew that my temple was a house of cards. His only way of making me realize the fact was to knock it down.” Much like Lewis, my faith in God feels more fully examined, and exposed, than it does tested.

I also find myself agreeing with Lewis that I will someday no longer add to this blog. I don’t know when, but it will come. Lewis recognized that his journals were less a “map of sorrow” (as he had originally thought they would be) but served more as a safety valve against total collapse. In regards to both his continued writing and the process of sorrow he said, “It needs not a map but a history, and if I don’t stop writing that history at some quite arbitrary point, there’s no reason why I should ever stop. There is something new to be chronicled every day. Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a new landscape.” I don’t think I’ll stop writing anytime soon, but I may find myself writing less frequently between now and then.

I find myself regularly looking at the wounds on my arm, hand, and wrist, and thinking about you and how they mirror my heart. The worst of the injuries have healed over, but they will be visible for a very long time. The pinkish raw color will stay for another few months, maybe even longer. Someday all that will remain will be scars, always out there to be seen, but less noticeable than they are today.

I miss you. I love you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.
Love,
Chad

Sigh...

2011-03-20T16:56:00.000-04:00

Dear Sara,

Words seem so inadequate today. There’s no efficiency in language to describe how I’m feeling. I’ve had a fun weekend. I’ve had a busy weekend. But mostly I’ve had a hard weekend. The people I love the most – the people I want to be with, the people I need to be with – are also the ones that are the hardest to be with. Laughing children, happy faces, sounds of contentment and joy…and it just makes me miss you that much more.

I’ve been crying almost non-stop for three days. Even when the tears aren’t falling on the outside, I can feel them on the inside. I don’t think being sick helps. I already feel emotionally frail. Feeling physically frail only exaggerates my emotional state.

The snow is all melted. Spring is coming. Your flower beds are waiting for you to begin your work.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

To sleep or not to sleep...

2011-03-19T23:53:00.000-04:00

Dear Sara,

It’s late…well, it feels late. We used to stay up this late all the time, and it never felt like this…now it just feels late. I’m tired. It doesn’t help that I’m fighting a cold.

I find myself staying up later than we did when you were here. It’s not because I can’t sleep, it’s probably more that I don’t like going to bed when you’re not there. It just doesn’t feel right crawling into a half-empty bed.

Today marks six weeks. For the first time in my life, I’m wishing I didn’t have a good memory with dates. I know it used to drive you a little crazy when I’d pop a “do you remember what day today is” on you. Things like October 27…our first date…our first dance…our first kiss. What will February 5 mean to me a year from now? Five years? Ten years? It’s a bittersweet day…I guess I don’t have to explain. Will it bother you if I choose to celebrate Miranda’s birthday on a different day? I don’t know how I feel about that yet, but it’s something I’ve thought about.

I need to go to bed, to rest, to get over this cold. The walk from the family room to the bedroom seems unusually far...especially tonight.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Thank you, thank you...

2011-03-18T09:32:00.002-04:00

This morning, the leadership team and administrators of Allegiance Health took some time to honor the emergency room and labor & delivery staff members who were on duty on February 5. They allowed me to speak for a few minutes. Below is the text of my short speech. It meant a lot to me to be able to thank these people in front of their administrators and leadership team.

"Everything changed on February 5th. Amidst the chaos and mayhem, decisions had to be made; decisions that I, and my family, could not make. Decisions that changed so many lives forever. Today, I want to make sure you know how thankful I am for the roll you all played in that day, and for the decisions you made.

My wife’s journey on this earth ended on that icy highway, long before she ever made it to the hospital. And yet, facing unbeatable odds, you worked as hard and as long as you could to try to reverse things. For me, the fact that you were still trying to revive her, to keep her here almost 90 minutes after the accident, when I was finally wheeled into her room, strapped to a backboard on a stretcher, means the world to me. It shows how much you cared. It shows me how deep the loss would hurt everyone in that room.

Under those circumstances, no one could have blamed you for giving up sooner. No one could have blamed you for just accepting the inevitable, but you chose to keep trying, long after trying was required. Thank you for living out hope when there was no hope. Your actions, and the decisions you made, helped me as my heart had to reconcile what my mind already knew to be true.

Of course, this story does not end there. Sara was only 18 days away from the expected due date of our first child. My daughter, Miranda, was delivered without a heartbeat, without breath. Her story could have just as easily ended right there. But you chose a different path. You made a decision to revive her to try to keep her here. Today, I want you to know you should never, ever, second-guess that decision. It was the right decision. It was a decision that gave her short time on earth purpose and meaning. It was a decision that meant Miranda was not just a baby, stillborn as part of an unspeakable tragedy. It was a decision that gave me three precious days with my little girl. I never would have gotten to hold her like I did, to kiss her soft pink skin, wrap her tiny little fingers around my finger, or introduce her to so many of my family and friends. It was a decision that made me a daddy, and made her daddy’s little girl. Your decision gave me a priceless gift, and I can’t thank you enough for that.

Today, nearly 6 weeks after that fateful day, I’m still surprised at how my quiet wife and my precious little girl have impacted this community and this world. You are part of that impact, and your leadership team and administrators are, and should be, proud of you. So I say thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my broken heart, thank you for everything you did for them and for me."

Few words...

2011-03-15T23:12:00.000-04:00

Dear Sara and Miranda,

I don't have a lot to say tonight. I just miss you.

It's not hard for me to understand the grief of no longer having what I had. It's triggered by all sorts of daily activities. Seeing your car keys on top of the dresser. Looking at the other end of the couch and staring at the empty space beside me. Looking for something to eat and seeing things in the cupboard I know you bought specifically for me and others bought specifically for you. Getting the mail and finding the This Old House magazine you had just started a 3 year subscription to. Seeing the unwrinkled sheets and blankets on your side of the bed when I get up every morning and lay back down every night. Doing laundry and realizing it's all just my clothes, nothing for the baby, nothing for you.

I'm less sure about the grief I feel for the things that I didn't have. The things that should have been but won't be. I didn't expect that grief to be as strong as it is. Not hearing a baby crying makes the house feel even quieter. Not having a baby seat installed in the truck (or the car) makes driving just about anywhere feel empty. There's no formula or bottles in the cupboards. No crib in the bedroom.

I love you both. I miss you both.

Love,
Chad

Lessons learned...

2011-03-14T22:14:00.001-04:00

Dear Sara,

The days continue to march by, some better than others, none as bad as the first. I continue to read about grief and the process of it. I find myself identifying with the various authors and the points they make. I often find new ideas and things to think about, too.

“I want her back as an ingredient in the restoration of my past. Could I have wished for anything worse? Having got once through death, to come back and then, at some later date, have all her dying to do over again? They call Stephen the first martyr. Hadn’t Lazarus the rawer deal?” C.S. Lewis wrote these words as he considered his state of crying out for his beloved wife’s return. I’ve done the same, many times. While his was a situation of dealing with a long goodbye, from cancer, the raw sentiment of it rings true. Getting you back is so much more about me, and restoring what I feel is lost, and yet it would be a raw deal for you.

I finished his book last night. I’m not sure how long he wrote for, but I hope that I can get to where he was by the time he filled his 4th, and final, notepad with his thoughts on the process and experience he was going through. He wasn’t past the hurt, but he could look at it in the full light of God’s healing touch.

I’m still at a place where my happiness often makes me sad. Lewis experienced this, too, “Still, there’s no denying that in some sense, I ‘feel better,’ and with that comes at once a sort of shame, and a feeling that one is under a sort of obligation to cherish and foment and prolong one’s unhappiness.” I realize that you would probably want nothing more than for me to feel happy, but happy just doesn’t feel right (beyond the occasional short burst.)

I’ve also come to realize that things can’t just go back to “the way they were before Sara.” Not that I’ve tried to get there, but I can fully empathize with Lewis when he wrote, “Did you ever know, dear, how much you took away with you when you left? You have stripped me even of my past, even of the things we never shared.” This house has been stripped to its foundation. The process of rebuilding, one brick at a time, may take years, even past the point of happiness returning.

One of the things that's changed since you left is what I listen to when I'm driving in the car. My radio used to be locked on ESPN...none of that seems interesting or important these days. Now I listen mostly to Home.fm or to playlists on my phone. Today I heard a classic by Petra from Not of This World. The lesson is that death will be swallowed by the victory of the cross and the resurrection. The hard part is waiting for that victory.

There's a step that we all take alone
An appointment we have with the great unknown
Like a vapor this life is just waiting to pass
Like the flowers that fade, like the withering grass
But life seems so long and death so complete
And the grave an impossible portion to cheat
But there's One who has been there and still lives to tell
There is One who has been through both heaven and hell
And the grave will come up empty-handed that day
Jesus will come and steal us away

(Chorus)
Where is the sting, tell me where is the bite
When the grave robber comes like a thief in the night
Where is the victory, where is the prize
When the grave robber comes
And death finally dies

Many still mourn and many still weep
For those that the love who have fallen asleep
But we have this hope though our hearts may still ache
Just one shout from above and they all will awake
And in the reunion of joy we will see
Death will be swallowed in sweet victory

When the last enemy is done from the dust will come a song
Those asleep will be awakened, not a one will be forsakened
He shall wipe away our tears, He will steal away our fears
There will be no sad tomorrow, there will be no pain and sorrow

Grave Robber
Words and music by Bob Hartman
Based on Hebrews 9:27, John 4:14, 1 Peter 1:24, Romans 8:11, 1 Corinthians 15:26, 51-55, Revelation 7:17

Sometimes my mind needs to be reminded of the things my heart already knows. Songs like this help to do that.

I looked through all the pictures of you on my iPad last night. I didn't cry...much. I smiled more. I still want to touch your face, see your smile, kiss your lips, hold your hand, smell that scent which was unmistakably you, hear your laugh, and just hold you, hold you, hold you.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

The new normal...

2011-03-13T00:38:00.000-05:00

Dear Sara,

Has it really been a month since the funeral?! Some days seem so long, how can it have possibly been a month already?

My eyes have done a lot of “seeing” over the past month. I see things I never noticed before, maybe because I couldn’t. I see how much pain and suffering exists in our world. I’m so much more sensitive to all kinds of pain that I used to be blind to. There are so many hurting people out there.

Stevie seems to be adapting to you not being here. He doesn’t look for you as much anymore. He comes over and sits with me on the couch as soon as I pull the quilt up next to me.

I don’t cry as much as I did a few weeks ago. There are usually tears in my eyes, I can feel them there; they just don’t leak out. They sit there, on the edges, perpetually waiting to be called into action.

I find that grief can have time and situational dependencies. The parts of the day when we normally would have been apart go by faster. It’s probably part of the denial process, which can continue for a long time. This provides some emotional relief; but, as soon as I’m heading home, the fact that you’re not going to be there when I arrive settles in quickly.

The grief I feel during the time we normally would have spent together no longer feels like a unwelcome invader. Someone commented the other day that it would feel less “foreign” over time. This doesn’t make me feel any better about the way things are, but it doesn’t bother me as much as it used to either. Is it possible for grief to become something that just feels normal? I suppose maybe it can, at least for a season.

Today was both a really good day and a really hard day. I spent the day with friends. We went to Lansing and visited the Michigan Historical Museum. We went out for lunch. We went to Impression 5. We went to a high school musical. The busyness helped keep me from focusing on what we were doing four weeks ago, which was probably good. At the same time, so much of what we did was so family oriented, especially the visit to Impression 5, and it made me think of you and Miranda. Seeing all those happy families enjoying the museum, all its hands on activities, and each other’s company caused me to think about everything I’ll never get to experience with you. I suppose that’s going to happen a lot, isn’t it?

Just like Stevie, I’m getting used to you not being here. I still think about you all the time. I still hurt a lot. Your absence is still noticeable. But that’s all starting to feel normal; the new normal, where missing you is just a natural part of existing.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,

Chad

Save the last dance...

2011-03-11T14:21:00.000-05:00

Dear Miranda,

I heard a song on the radio this morning that reminded me of all the things I grieve in losing you.

Steven Curtis Chapman - Cinderella
She spins and she sways
To whatever song plays
Without a care in the world
And I'm sitting here wearing
The weight of the world on my shoulders

It's been a long day
And there's still work to do
She's pulling at me
Saying "Dad, I need you

There's a ball at the castle
And I've been invited
And I need to practice my dancing
Oh, please, Daddy, please?"

So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh, I will dance with Cinderella
I don't want to miss even one song
'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight
And she'll be gone...

She says he's a nice guy and I'd be impressed
She wants to know if I approve of the dress
She says, "Dad, the prom is just one week away
And I need to practice my dancing
Oh, please, Daddy, please?"

So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh, I will dance with Cinderella
I don't want to miss even one song
'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight
And she'll be gone

She will be gone

Well, she came home today with a ring on her hand
Just glowing and telling us all they had planned
She says, "Dad, the wedding's still six months away
But I need to practice my dancing
Oh, please, Daddy, please?"

So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh, I will dance with Cinderella
I don't want to miss even one song
'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight
And she'll be gone

I know that you’re not my little girl any more. All things are made new in Heaven. You are now who God ultimately meant you to be. I probably wouldn’t recognize you if I saw you with my earthly eyes, but I know that I’ll know you when we meet face to face.

I’ll be waiting for my dance.

I love you. I miss you. Give mommy a kiss from daddy.

Love,

Chad

Most of all...

2011-03-09T22:16:00.001-05:00

Dear Sara,

Most of all, I just want to hold you. I want to wrap my arms around you as I’m falling asleep and feel your warm skin pressed up against me. I want to smell the scent of your freshly shampooed and still damp hair.

Most of all, I just want to kiss you. I want to pull you in tight and feel your soft lips pressing against mine.

Most of all, I just want to hear you laugh. I want to see that smile spread across your face and the sparkle of joy in your eyes.

Most of all, I just want you to be near me. I want you to sit beside me on the sofa. I want to rest my hand or your knee, or my head in your lap, while we watch one of our favorite shows together.

Most of all, I just want to run my fingers through your hair.

Most of all, I want to look forward to coming home. I want you to be there to greet me as I walk in the door. To get to the door and open it up before I have time to fit my key into the lock.

Most of all, I just want to stand beside our little girl’s crib with you at my side. I want to marvel at her beauty and appreciate all of you that I see in her.

Most of all, I just want you back. I want things to be the way they were. I want things to be the way they were supposed to be. I want my eyes to dry out, and to not feel like I could burst out crying at any given moment, even when I feel in control.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Missing Miranda...

2011-03-07T23:39:00.001-05:00

Dear Miranda,

I'm not sure where to start. You've been on my mind all day long.

I cried in public today. It wasn’t just a few tears I could quickly wipe away and hope no one noticed, this was actual crying. I’ve cried in public plenty of times over the past month, but not like this. I lucked out. There was a bathroom available that I was able to duck into rather quickly.

I had a chiropractors appointment this morning. While I waited in the lobby there was a lady there who had a beautiful little girl with her. The little girl was simply being a little girl. It was the simple acts of being that got to me. She wanted a drink from the water cooler. She played with some stuffed animals she’d brought with her, even giving one an adjustment on the table in the middle of the lobby. It was a happy scene, but it overwhelmed me in a way I haven’t felt very often.

The grief I feel for you, because of you, over losing you is so different from what I feel for your mother. She and I had 15 years together. We should have had 40 more. My grief for mommy is so complex and deep it’s difficult for me to comprehend, much less explain. My grief for you, while no less painful, is so very different. We never got to know each other. We have so little history for me to grieve. Our time together was brief, so incredibly brief I worry about what I’ll forget.

My grief for you often feels empty, like a blank sheet of paper. It’s about unrealized potential. It’s about all the things that will never be. Grieving the loss of that which might have been feels so different than grieving that which was and was supposed to be.

Needless to say, I miss you dearly. I see you, and everything you’ll never have a chance to be, in every child I see.

I love you. I miss you. Give mommy a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

The perfect marriage...

2011-03-06T15:21:00.000-05:00

Dear reader,

I was looking through my photo library last night, focused on pictures of my beautiful wife. I came across the above photo and I noticed something I've never noticed before, Sara and I are wearing the exact same colors, just in reverse and, believe it or not, it's a pure coincidence. It got me thinking about our marriage, about this blog, and some of the comments and emails I've received from people. More than one person has made the observation that we had the perfect marriage. Perfect may be stretching it a bit. We had a great marriage, a wonderful marriage, and a blessed marriage; however, I could fill pages with all the things I did wrong that kept it from being a "perfect" marriage.

Much as we are dressed in this picture, Sara and I were opposites, even in our sameness. We really didn’t share many of the same interests; our passions were often very divergent. The colors of our lives may have been the same, but the layers were definitely different.

Sara loved gardens and flowers…I always felt like grass was easier to maintain.
I love to ride my motorcycle…Sara had no interest in feeling the wind in that way.
Sara liked HGTV…I like ESPN.
If we went somewhere on vacation, I wanted to see the sights...Sara wanted to curl up with a good book in the warm sunshine.
I argued…Sara listened.

The list is a lot longer than that, but you get the idea. So, what was it that worked for us? We both believed the other was a gift from God. That the most important part of love was choosing to love each other, even when we didn’t feel “it.” Even when we got angry at each other, couldn’t stand to be in the same room, couldn’t even talk to each other, it was the choice of love that would eventually bring us back together. Love fueled not by some chemical reaction in the brain, not based solely on physical attraction, but by the simple belief that we could choose to love each other because God loved us.

Did we ever get bored…yes; but, we could change it with a choice.
Did we ever fight…yes; but, we could fix it with a choice.
Did we always see eye to eye…no; but, we could choose the common ground.

It’s no big secret, it’s not out of your reach, it wasn’t out of ours…and for 15 years it worked wonderfully.

Sincerely,
Chad

I hate snow...

2011-03-05T23:53:00.000-05:00

Dear Sara,

It's not as if I, and anyone who has followed our story, haven't been acutely aware of what today is in terms of your passing. Today, Mother Nature seems determined to do her part to try and break me. It snowed. Just like it did on that day 28 days ago. Unpredicted, unexpected, unwanted. Almost four inches fell on a day when everyone thought we were getting ready to be done with snow.

Maybe it's not Mother Nature. Maybe it's Satan trying to stab at my heart. Trying to get me angry at something, at anything, trying to get me to curse God and the natural world he created. Admittedly, I now hate snow. It wouldn't hurt my feelings if it never snowed in Michigan again. I see no beauty in it. I see no wonder, or grace, in it. This isn't just the feeling all Michiganders have about snow at this time of year...I hate snow. Snow is where the buck stops when it comes to you and Miranda not being here. It's the only thing I've been able to get angry about; but, it's a hollow anger, an empty anger, the kind of anger you know doesn't do any good, because it's not about something you can control or change. It's the kind of anger I don't even care to acknowledge. Sorry, Satan...you're the only one I really feel expressible anger towards, and when I see the snow I think of you and what you're responsible for, so stab away.

I put some pictures of you up today. We've never had pictures of ourselves or other family members hanging in the house. That's going to change. I'm ready to see your face around the house, to see your smile when I walk from room to room, to keep them fresh in my mind. I'm ready to stop crying (even though I probably won't, not for a long time) and start smiling when I see you. I want to smile through the tears.

One month. So short. So long.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Regret...

2011-03-05T09:45:00.001-05:00

Dear Sara,

I'm finding I have one major regret in life. I never took the opportunity to make a video of you. I could have easily picked up my phone and made a simple recording of you walking in the door after work one day. I could have captured the sweet smile on your face and the beautiful sound of your voice saying, "I'm home!" I could have...but I never did. I'm sure I have some video of you some where. Maybe the tape from when we did our home tour 10 years ago, on the day we closed on our house. Maybe some random footage from some random family event. It's the one thing I've missed most the past few days, and the one thing I know I'm going to have the hardest time finding. It's a needle in a haystack situation.

The ability to see you in motion, to hear your voice; I don't know if it would bring comfort or if it would send me back to the early stages of grief where crying was so physically painful that I could only manage it for a few minutes at a time. Photographs are nice...but they start to seem lacking when I realize they are only a reflection of your life, a beautiful reflection, but somehow empty, too.

In a few short hours it will be exactly 28 days since you departed and began the eternal part of your journey. I find that the flavor of grief I'm in right now is changing in subtle ways every day. When I cried during the first couple of weeks, the physical pain that accompanied my grief was almost unbearable. It felt as if all the muscles, tendons, and ligaments in my body were trying to move in their own individual directions, tearing me apart at the seams. There are several flavors of loss that make me cry now, but none of them compare to the physical pain of my initial grief. There is still hurt, emotional hurt, raw hurt, more hurt than my heart can bear at times and it's randomness catches me off guard.

There is a specific flavor of grief when I think about the loss of everything we had together. Fifteen years of shared life have been ripped from me, and this produces it's own bitter sting. There is a specific flavor, or lack of flavor, when I think about the loss of everything the future held for us. An empty chasm exists where a road waiting to be traveled once spread out to the horizon. These griefs mix together, but do not become homogenous ("Welcome to Baskin-Robbins, would you like to try the double fudge swirl of sadness today, or maybe a double scoop of chunky monkey with sprinkles of sorrow on top?") They each maintain their unique ability to make me hurt, along with several other flavors that accompany them, a gang of grief, wreaking emotional havoc wherever they roam, whenever they feel like it.

Your dad sent me a quote by Mark Twain this week. It's from a piece he wrote about a year and a half after his wife had passed away. I can relate to what he says when he writes, "The mind has a dumb sense of vast loss—that is all. It will take mind and memory months, and possibly years, to gather together the details, and thus learn and know the whole extent of the loss." Twain goes on to detail just how long he expected this to last with an analogy, "A man’s house burns down. The smoking wreckage represents only a ruined home that was dear through years of use and pleasant associations. By and by, as the days and weeks go on, first he misses this, then that, then the other thing. And, when he casts about for it, he finds that it was in that house. Always it is an essential—there was but one of its kind. It cannot be replaced. It was in that house. It is irrevocably lost. He did not realize that it was an essential when he had it; he only discovers it now when he finds himself balked, hampered, by its absence. It will be years before the tale of lost essentials is complete, and not till then can he truly know the magnitude of his disaster."

I try to celebrate what we had, even when it hurts. I try to remember how soft your cheek felt against the palm of my hand, your lips against my lips. I try to remember the warmth of your body, pressed up against me as we slept. I try to remember your scent, clean but earthy, infused with aroma of a day spent in the flower shop. I try to remember...but find that sifting through the rubble of my burned out house often produces a only a cloud of ash. I worry, as CS Lewis worried in A Grief Observed, that my memories of you will become mired together in an almost unrecognizable form, "We have seen the faces of those we know best so variously, from so many angles, in so many lights, with so many expressions—waking, sleeping, laughing, crying, eating, talking, thinking—that all the impressions crowd into our memory together and cancel out into a mere blur."

It's been a month...soon it will be two, then three, then twelve, then the count will tick to years. It seems so vast, yet so compressed, I can't fathom the passage of time yet to come when the past 28 days has felt both eternal and only a breath in this life.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Did I mention Lazarus?

2011-03-05T02:35:00.000-05:00

I just finished reading my daily selection for Friday (yes, I realize it's technically Saturday right now) from Grieving the Loss of Someone You Love. I felt like it ties into my last post, at least a little bit.

"...our King sent his Son to be broken for us so that he could put us back together better than we were before. That doesn't mean our pain is not real. It is very real, just as Christ's pain was real when he wept for Lazarus...your job in this rebuilding process is to hand each piece to your heavenly Father as he asks for them. Then watch in awe as he puts them back together."

Early vs late...

2011-03-04T02:27:00.004-05:00

Dear Sara,

It's either very early or very late. I guess it's really a matter of perspective. Tonight is the first night that I just can't go to sleep. I'm not even tired. It's 2:00AM and I haven't come close to sleeping since I first tried almost 3 hours ago. Maybe all the sleep I have been getting has finally caught up with me. I'm not sure, but it presents another opportunity to talk to you through this keyboard.

My reading today (yesterday, actually) sparked a flame to a thought that's been wandering around my mind since your funeral. I'm still trying to flesh it all the way out. The reading talked about the phrase "it must have been God's will" or "it must have been God's plan" (is there a difference?...different argument, different day.) It's something people say all to frequently to those who are grieving, and I've probably said it myself, but I'm not sure it's really the truth. I think it's a half truth we say more to protect ourselves and avoid awkward conversation than to actually provide comfort to the grieving.

I wonder, as Christians, if we've managed to confuse God's omniscience with God's will/plan. I don't believe that this was God's plan for you, for Miranda, or for me. I have a hard time believing I'll ever think that. I believe God knew it would happen, but that doesn't mean it was His plan or His will. I think Pastor Mark really was onto something in his message at your memorial service.

The Word tells us that God has plans to prosper us and not to harm us. This is a message that is repeated throughout the Word. However, we also read that bad things will happen to good people and good things will happen to bad people. And then there's Death. Death was never part of God's plan. Death entered this world as the result of sin. God's plan was for a perfect eternal communion between Himself and the man (and woman) He created in His own image. Sin, the harbinger of death, interrupted that plan.

The story of Lazarus, in John 11, contains the shortest verse in the Bible, "Jesus wept." The story around it tells us that Jesus was so moved by Mary and Martha's weeping for their brother that he himself wept. I wonder if there wasn't more to it? I wonder if Jesus' tears were partly in recognition that the sacrifice he was soon to make, while providing us with a means to reach the Father, wouldn't be enough to take away the pain of death? That until He comes again, until death is defeated, that His children will have to suffer the pain of loss and grief. That even with the hope of the resurrection, we will still hurt when those we love are taken from us, especially when it feels premature. I think Jesus weeping was a lot more complex than the situation.

I don't know, maybe I'm completely off track with this line of thinking. I know God has a plan for us. But I think that that plan gets distorted and broken because we live in a broken world. That doesn't mean He stops caring. That doesn't mean He doesn't weep with us. I think it just means we have to rely on Him to heal us, and help us get to the end of the race, to that place where His perfect plan can no longer be derailed by the broken world we leave behind.

"Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come,
Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heav’n and home,
When Jesus is my portion? My constant Friend is He:
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free,
For His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

“Let not your heart be troubled,” His tender word I hear,
And resting on His goodness, I lose my doubts and fears;
Though by the path He leadeth, but one step I may see;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free,

For His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

Whenever I am tempted, whenever clouds arise,

When songs give place to sighing, when hope within me dies,
I draw the closer to Him, from care He sets me free;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free,

For His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me."

Civilla D. Martin - Matthew 10:29-31

I wonder if this doesn't help explain why Jesus wept. He watches us so closely, cares about us so much, that the pain of our loss, my loss, affects Him just as deeply as it does us/me. Did he weep because he knows this wasn't the plan?

I'm starting to feel like sleep my finally be on its way for me. I hope my rambling makes a little bit of sense.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,

Chad

Good days and bad days...

2011-03-02T23:29:00.000-05:00

Dear Sara,

It's hard for me to believe that it's been almost a month since the accident. In some ways it seems like it was just yesterday and in others it seems like it was ages ago. Time plays funny, or not so funny, tricks on the mind during difficult days like these.

Yesterday was a bad day...at least it started out as a bad day. I think Stevie and I were both missing you more than we had in recent days. He wandered around the house crying out for you all day long. I mostly sat on the couch and just cried. Things got a little better as the day progressed. I had dinner with my mom and dad and then met Aaron and Sarah in town for some shopping at Best Buy. It was back to crying when I got home though. It probably didn't help that I was looking at pictures of you and Miranda when I should have been trying to go to sleep.

Today was different. I woke up and actually caught myself smiling, for no apparent reason. Instantly it made me feel sad, but not like yesterday, more along the line of how can I be happy at a time like this. Stevie has had a better day today, too. Much less vocal "noise" on his part. Speaking of Stevie, I think you'd be proud of him. He's getting used to having people other than us in the house. Aaron came over tonight and Stevie didn't seem to hardly notice that he was here. That's a long way from the days when he'd sprint down to the basement as soon as an unfamiliar face showed up. I was so worried about how he'd react to the baby and having people over to see the baby...apparently he would have handled it just fine.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

How long...

2011-02-28T13:17:00.000-05:00

Dear Sara,

Last night I was thinking about the last time we spent this much time apart. It was over 12 years ago. We'd been married a little over two years and you had to take your Cross Cultural class at college. I dropped you off at the airport on January 1, 1999, just as a huge snow storm was moving in. If your flight had been 30 minutes later, you wouldn't have been able to leave for at least a couple of days. You were gone for almost four weeks. We didn't have cell phones, so you took a calling card with you and we talked on the phone every night. Not for long. Just enough to catch up on the day and say "I love you." At the time, I didn't know how I was going to make it through until you got home. I missed you each and every day. But somewhere, in the back of my mind, I knew you'd be home and that made each day apart something I could handle.

You're not coming home from this cross cultural trip. I know that, but there's still a part of me that can't accept it. I wait for you at the door sometimes, just like Stevie does, hoping you'll walk in at any minute, but you won't...not this time.

While I was at the hospital, holding vigil at Miranda's bedside, the sister of one of our neighbors tied a beautiful pink ribbon on the tree out in front of our house. It's been a daily reminder for me that even though you're not here, you're still with me, that it's our home I live in. I untied it from the tree today, both to keep it from being ruined by the elements and to ward off uncomfortable questions. On Saturday night, we ordered some subs to nosh on while we watched our movie. The lady who delivered them was very cheerful and asked if we'd had a baby. I didn't know how to answer. I felt dumb, like there was no answer...at least not one that I could give her that would make sense. I mumbled back "no, not so much" even though it wasn't the truth, or at least the whole truth. The pink ribbon is drying out today. I'll keep it indoors...to remind me of you both.

Remember how I told you that the whole pregnancy thing was flying by for me? It always seemed like there just wasn't enough time to get ready. The days don't move so fast now. Part of me wishes they would and part of me is thankful they don't. Grief hurts, I don't know anyone that would want to feel this way; but, I don't want to get over you either. Writing to you helps, mostly to sort out my own confusion, but it doesn't help fill the emptiness.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Family movie night...

2011-02-26T23:18:00.001-05:00

...just isn't the same without you sitting by my side.

Aaron, Sarah, mom and dad came over and we watched a movie tonight. You would have liked it. I'd have liked it better if you'd been here.

They've all gone home now and I am listening to music and watching pictures from our photo library scroll across the TV. You have such a beautiful smile...and I miss it so much. The tears sting and my throat hurts. No matter how much I beg I can't go back to that horrible day and change anything. All I want to do is go back and listen to that little voice in my head that kept saying we shouldn't bother traveling in that unexpected snow storm.

You're not supposed to be in Heaven right now. You're supposed to be right here, sitting on the couch next to me, holding our newborn daughter and marveling over how beautiful she is. The flowers on the bookshelf are supposed to be congratulatory not consolatory. This broken world, enslaved by death, stole you both from me. The fallen nature of man stepped in and interrupted God's perfect plan for us. The Hope of the Resurrection seems so far away right now. What will be a blink in the scope of eternity feels like it will last a thousand lifetimes.

I can't change history, I can only watch it float across my TV screen and hope that someday all those memories will fill me with fond remembrance instead of sadness.

I love you, I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

The things they don't tell you...

2011-02-25T21:49:00.000-05:00

Dear Sara,

Fourteen and a half years ago we promised we'd love and cherish each other "until death do us part." I'm finding that even though plenty has been written about grief, grieving, and the processes we go through, no one seems to have come up with a manual, or a set of rules, for the real day-to-day stuff that one has to deal with when the parting happens far too soon. I'm working on my list of things that I'm sure I'll need to do at some point, but it doesn't feel right to think about doing them now. It doesn't feel like it will ever feel right to do them.

Will it ever feel OK to delete your phone number out of my contact list? I canceled your cell phone. It didn't seem to make much sense to keep paying for it; but, I don't feel like I can delete your number out of my phone. What if I dial it on accident some day and someone answers?

How long should I keep your FaceBook account active? People are still sending you friend requests. Should I accept them? Should I ignore them? Will I ever find a day when I don't want to post on your wall and tell you how much I miss you? Will it be obvious to me when I should change my status from Married to Single? Do they have an option for Widower?

What about your email? I unsubscribed to most of the daily "junk mail" type emails you were getting. What if something legitimate comes through? I don't send you emails, but what if I want to? Do they have email in heaven?

Is there a rule about how long I should wear my wedding ring? At some point will it make other people feel uncomfortable when they see it on my finger? It feels right and good right where it is. When they took it off at the hospital to clean my hand and bandage my injuries it felt so wrong, so final. It's comfortable and comforting...does it stay that way?

What would you like me to do with the kitchen? You worked so hard stripping the cabinets and painting them. I know you ultimately wanted to do a whole kitchen remodel, even replacing the cabinets. It hurts to think about taking them out now, ruining all your hard work. What about the bathroom? I know you wanted to completely remodel it, too (and it really needs it.) But you're not here to repaint the walls back to the way they look now. If I have it done will it feel like I'm losing the part of you that's still here?

I guess that's all I have for now. I'm sure I'll think of more as time passes.

I know I don't need to say it, but I miss you. I miss Miranda.

Hugs and kisses,
Chad

Due...

2011-02-23T12:11:00.000-05:00

Dear Sara,

Today was our official due date. I know how much you didn't want to focus on a specific day, which is why we always just told people "the last week of February." Of course, if Miranda was anything like you, she probably wouldn't have arrived for another week :)

I went back to work yesterday, just for a few hours in the evening. It feels a little strange, but comforting at the same time. At the end of the day, I still have to come home though, to our home, the home which I wish you were still here to be with me in. I'll go back tonight, and tomorrow night, and the night after. It will eventually feel normal...I hope.

Sometimes I feel bad that I don't cry all day long every day. But when I do it hurts so bad I can understand why my mind and body won't let it happen more than it does.

The rational part of my mind says there must be some logical reason this happened. Some reason that God allowed this to happen. What was coming that would have been worse than this? That's the only thing that makes sense to me, that somehow God allowed this to spare me, us, from an even greater tragedy farther down the road. It doesn't provide any comfort for my heart though.

I love you. I love Miranda. I miss you both so much, especially today.

Kisses,
Chad

Miranda, my beautiful angel...

2011-02-20T20:34:00.000-05:00

I wanted to share some pictures of my sweet angel, Miranda, with you. Your prayers and kind words have meant so much to me.

The consensus is that she got her mama's hands and fingernails. Pretty little girl didn't need daddy's sausage fingers and horrible nails.

This was a ring that Sara bought on our vacation up to northern Michigan in October. Her wedding and engagement rings weren't fitting her and she wanted something sparkly to wear.

Miranda is on the quilt Sara made for her. Sara and Grandma Ware did the quilt stitching in November.

Wishing I could hold you again, my sweet angel.

Dear Sara...

2011-02-19T21:51:00.000-05:00

Dear Sara,

Today was a good, but hard, day. I went grocery shopping. It took me a while to actually get out of the car after I got to the store. It just didn't feel right. I know we very rarely shopped together, but shopping for one just seems wrong.

Your family came over and we spent a lot of time looking through all of your sewing materials. So many projects unfinished. So many more just ideas in your head. The world is a less lovely place without you and your projects.

We finished the night watching a slideshow of all your pictures from my iPhoto library. I cried. Your smile is so beautiful. Your eyes sparkle. I just want to reach out and touch your cheek and kiss those beautiful lips again.

They say there are fives stages of grief. I'm pretty sure I'm still in denial. I can't stop using words like "we" and "us" when I'm speaking in the present tense. There's a voice in the back of my head trying to convince me that you'll be home any minute.

By the way, I don't know if I've mentioned it before or not, but our daughter is beautiful. Of course, I'm sure you know that. You've been able to spend more time with her than I was allowed. I'm more than a little jealous and heart broken over that.

It's been two weeks since you left. I've been so busy it feels like it's been longer. You know how quiet and dull our life was? It's been a rush of appointments, meals, friends and family since then. I haven't had a day go by that I didn't go somewhere, meet up with someone, or have dinner with someone.

My injuries from the accident are healing OK...my heart's not doing as well. It really hurts most of the time. I want to think about the positive side of you being in Heaven, but most of the time I just feel sad that you're gone.

I found a new home for Katu. I feel bad about giving her away, but she and Stevie still hate each other; and, without you here to keep the peace, things were starting to get a little hairy. Stevie's not sure what to think of the gate being down. He's been making tentative forays into the other half of the house, but goes scurrying back to the basement door when he sees me over there. I think the gate being down does help him understand that you're not just on the other side of it ignoring his cries. He's been very quiet since I let him out of the basement this morning. I bought him some wheat grass to nibble on, I figured you might like that.

None of this makes sense to me. I don't understand why God let you get hurt so bad. I still can't find it in my heart to be angry at Him, but that doesn't help me feel any better.

I love you, and I miss you. I'd do anything to hold you in my arms again and it hurts knowing that I won't ever be able to do that on this Earth. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy. Tell her that I love her, too, and wish she was still here.

Love,
Chad

P.S. I hope you don't mind the way I jump from topic to topic. My brain just feels really random right now, like there's not a whole lot of order to anything.

Down the road...

2011-02-16T21:53:00.000-05:00

It's going to get worse, before it gets better, isn't it?

I've been able to focus my energies for the past 10 days on areas other than grief. There have been moments when ignoring it just wasn't possible, but I now find myself standing face to face with that which I've been trying to avoid.

My head tells me that logically, this will pass. It will take time, but it will pass. My heart tells me otherwise. My heart tells me this will last forever.

As people's prayers and support continue to pour in, I often find myself feeling conflicted. I have received many messages telling me about the great things God has been doing in the lives of others as a result of this tragedy and the things I have written here. My spirit is uplifted by this, and yet, I find myself wishing that God had chosen a different way to move in these people's lives. My humanity can't help but wish for the selfish, even in the light of seeing Him Glorified.

We live in a broken world. A world where God's plan is all to often interrupted by that which does not make sense. None of what happened on February 5 makes sense in terms of God's plan, or God's will. I'm too tired to be angry at God. I'm too weary to ask "why?" Those things may come in time. Today all I have is a growing sadness. A sadness that stems from the brokenness of this world and all that keeps us from truly fulfilling God's plan for our lives.

I thank you all for your continued prayers.

Sincerely,

Chad

Happy Valentine's day...

2011-02-14T09:14:00.001-05:00

...only not so much.

Sara actually disliked Valentine's Day. Not so much because of what it stood for, but because of what it meant as a floral designer. Long hours, demanding customers, etc. She started working at the flower shop during the Valentine's rush, it's hard to believe she stayed for 12 years after that initial baptism by fire :)

Of course, this made my Valentine's Day pretty easy. I never had to worry about buying flowers. I never had to worry about buying a gift, or trying to reserve seats for a hot dinner date. All I had to do was rub her feet while we watched some TV. I'd give anything to rub those weary feet tonight...

The busyness following the accident still continues. Doctor's appointments, paperwork, etc. The reality of life is still sinking in a little bit at a time. I've felt a little bit like I was the center of the universe for a few days (an uncomfortable center), and it's actually comforting to feel like I'm getting back into my own orbit around the Son.

Be kind...

2011-02-13T00:05:00.002-05:00

Many of you did not know my wife (I realize, of course, many of you do not know me either.) Below is the text from the memorial I read at her and Miranda's service this morning. I fear that my words do not do her justice, that the context of my pain can not be adequately expressed within the boundaries of these words. Despite my best attempts, this is a pale reflection of the woman she was.

The life of Sara Jean Cole, as expressed by Chad Cole on February 12, 2011:

Sara Jean was a Princess, born on a cold, snowy January day in 1976. She did not enter this world quickly; instead, she gave us a preview of her life. Sara arrived after 44 hours of labor, letting us know that doing things right would always be more important than doing them quickly. Sara proved that time and patience produced spectacular results.

Sara was constructive child, in the literal sense of the word. Sara’s early life was lived out while her parents built their home, in Clarksville, Michigan. The course of Sara’s life was shaped by this early hands-on experience. Sara developed a life long passion for projects, for working with her hands, and lived with the philosophy that you don’t need to buy something if you can make it yourself. That old crusty couch…no problem. Just strip it down to the frame and rebuild it. That ancient chair, it just needs a new cover. We need a bookcase…where’s the saw and that old piece of plywood.

Sara was well traveled. After spending her early childhood in Clarksville, Sara’s family began moving around the country, often traveling in a small Toyota station wagon, which was packed to the point of bursting with kids, pets, clothes, and all of life’s other necessities. While Sara was a shy child, no matter where she went, she made a few steadfast friends and lived her life to the fullest.

As many were able to see at her visitation, Sara was a gifted artist. Sara could find beauty in just about anything. She also loved to teach others, sharing her knowledge and experience, ultimately making the world a more beautiful place one relationship at a time.

Sara was all I’ve just described and more. She was a loving daughter. She was a wonderful sister. She was a gardener. She was a master seamstress. She was a treasure collector who saw value in things most of would cast of without a second glance. She had a great sense of humor, and loved to laugh. She had a compassionate heart and cried often at the sadness she saw around her. She was everyone’s friend. She was my best friend, a devoted companion, who filled my life with love and joy, and she was the mother of my beautiful daughter, Miranda Evangelene.

In Miranda’s short life, she never said a word. She never cooed, or gaa-gaaed. She never crawled or took a step. And yet, because of Miranda, a chord has been struck in the heavenly realms and its reverberations will be felt for eternity. Thousands have joined together in prayer, setting aside spiritual and philosophical differences to lift up one small girl, her mother, her father, and their families.

Because of this I want to tell you who Sara really was. She described herself the best back in 1983, at the age of 7, when she wrote a short, but poignant letter to Jesus. “Lord, I pray that you will make my heart loving and kind…”

God answered that prayer, tenfold. Love dripped from Sara’s pores. Kindness was at the heart of everything she did. As an adult, an unkind word from Sara was such a rarity that it was shocking. And it was usually followed by something positive just to make up for it. Sara’s gift was living her life with the spiritual purity of a child. She didn’t make the mistake of trying to make her Christianity into something that was too complex. For Sara the rules, set by her parents at a young age were simple: Be kind. Don’t do things to other people you don’t want to have done to you. That is who Sara really was. Sara was love. She lived love. If you want to do something to remember my wife, the greatest memorial would be to live life like she did. Be kind to one another, and don’t do things to other people that you wouldn’t want to have done to you.

As I mentioned earlier, Sara was a collector of treasures. I was cleaning her purse on Monday when I found a small slip of paper, folded and tucked away into a safe corner. On it were the lyrics to the hymn All Creatures of our God and King. It touched my heart, and I wept, because Sara spent her entire life loving all of God’s creatures… especially me.

The beginning of the end of the beginning...

2011-02-10T17:09:00.000-05:00

Time is rapidly winding down in terms of the business end of saying goodbye. Tomorrow will be spent doing visitation and services follow on Saturday.

A memorial fund has been established, even though we have not decided how it will be used.

Anyone who would like to donate is welcome to:

Sara Cole Memorial Fund

c/o Flagstar Bank

2000 Horton Road

Jackson, MI 49203

We will decide, at a later date and as a family, how to use the memorial. Sara had many things she loved and was passionate about, the decision(s) will not be easy.

I truly appreciate the thousands of readers who have shared in this journey with me.

Writing here has been therapeutic and uplifting. Your comments have lifted me on angel's wings.

As Saturday passes, things will get much more quiet in my life. The new "normal" will begin to transition in, slowly and painfully. As such, you, gentle reader, may not find as much activity on this blog as has taken place over the past week.

Before I slip into a habit of posting less frequently, I want to address something that has been on my heart and mind this entire week.

I have had many people say to me, write to me, say about me, and write about me about what a great "man of God" I am. I'm not sure I can live up to the bar that has been set.

What you've seen in me over the past few days has little to do with being a strong and vibrant Man of Faith. I am a man who feels like all this world held for him has been stripped away, leaving him standing cold and naked, with two choices: cling to the Rock or let go. I have no choice. I must cling to the Rock. All else is misery, selfish humanity, and destructive despair.

Your prayers have been appreciated. They have helped my fingers hold fast. I will be clinging here for some time to come, and want you to know how much your support has meant and how long it will last.

Thank you, friends,

Chad

Too tired to write a title....

2011-02-09T22:08:00.001-05:00

So much to say...and I'm not sure I can. My poor brain has started to hit it's limit in terms of sleep depravation.

First, to the Allegiance Health staff members I met today, and especially those I didn't. I will never be able to thank you enough for what you did for me, my wife and my Miranda. I learned today that grief radiates out from tragedy like a tsunami. It knows no boundaries. It respects no one. It is completely unpredictable. I feel for you and with you...as I know you are feeling for me, and with me. I look forward to seeing you all again in the near future.

The other parts of today felt so rushed. I'm led to believe there will never be a good way to plan a funeral or memorial service. No matter how hard those who provide the service try, it will always feel like important decisions need to be made too quickly. You could give me and my family 6 months to decide on some of these things and we would still feel rushed...no one wants to say goodbye. Even though we know they are not with us anymore, no one wants to say goodbye.

I find that the waves of grief are changing. What was erratic over the past couple of days, with strong surges and times of great relief, has turned to a steady flow. It's now a steady stream with only the occasional burst. God's grace and mercy continue to hold back the storm, but the flood waters are still rising.

There's so much more I'd like to say...but it will have to wait.

I'm home...

2011-02-09T04:05:00.000-05:00

I can not begin to express my gratitude for, nor my amazement at, what has happened over the past three days. Never in my life have I felt so surrounded with love. This has been the worst three days of my life, and yet, at the same time, it has been three glorious days, full of shekinah glory.

As I prepared to hold my darling daughter to my chest this evening, I was terrified that I would break...literally break...into pieces. My fears were unjustified. The hand of God so reached down and touched me, that I was able to sing my sweet angel into heaven. That peace stayed with my while I bathed her. It covered me like a deep blanket of snow while I dressed her for the first time. It kept a smile on my face while we took pictures and I was able to introduce her to her extended families without all those wires and tubes sticking out of her. You are all responsible for that peace.

God's miracle to me was giving me strength beyond my own. Endurance that I could never have mustered. Helping me carry my daughter proudly down long, silent corridors as we approached the gathered family and friends who were singing upon our arrival:

All creatures of our God and King
Lift up your voice and with us sing,
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Thou burning sun with golden beam,
Thou silver moon with softer gleam!

O praise Him! O praise Him!
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!

Thou rushing wind that art so strong
Ye clouds that sail in Heaven along,
O praise Him! Alleluia!
Thou rising moon, in praise rejoice,
Ye lights of evening, find a voice!

Thou flowing water, pure and clear,
Make music for thy Lord to hear,
O praise Him! Alleluia!
Thou fire so masterful and bright,
That givest man both warmth and light.

Dear mother earth, who day by day
Unfoldest blessings on our way,
O praise Him! Alleluia!
The flowers and fruits that in thee grow,
Let them His glory also show.

And all ye men of tender heart,
Forgiving others, take your part,
O sing ye! Alleluia!
Ye who long pain and sorrow bear,
Praise God and on Him cast your care!

And thou most kind and gentle Death,
Waiting to hush our latest breath,
O praise Him! Alleluia!
Thou leadest home the child of God,
And Christ our Lord the way hath trod.

I am blessed, truly blessed this early morning.

I do realize that dark clouds are on the horizon. The hurting will not go away, or end, just because today is done. It's 3:45AM, and Stevie, our 10 year old cat, is wandering around the house crying for his "mommy." All he knows is that he hasn't seen her in 3 days and misses her. His simple desire to sit on her lap and enjoy a good scratch brings tears to my eyes. No matter how hard I try, I know that I can't provide for him what he'd grown to love and desire from Sara. He sits on the step to the family room, watching me type, and I can his questions in his eyes, "Where is she? When will she be home?" He occasionally glances at the back door, as if he expects her to walk in any moment.

This house already feels like a shell, an empty reflection of what it once was. I've had this same feeling every time I looked at myself in a mirror over the past 3 days. I just didn't recognize the man who was looking back. He seemed familiar, but not quite the same as what it felt like he should look like.

The only thing that keeps the dark waters of despair and depression from flooding over me at this time is the levy of Christ's love. A levy woven from the fabric of your prayers. While God may not have given me my heart's desire, He has stopped up the floodwaters. He has thrown me a life jackets that keeps me from drowning in the deep pits and pools that Satan would love to pull me down into.

Thank you, one thousand times, one million times, thank you!

O praise Him! O praise Him!
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!

Sincerely,
Chad Cole

Welcome to miracle Tuesday...

2011-02-08T08:18:00.002-05:00

Dear Miranda,

It's me, daddy. I'm not even sure where to begin.

Today is a big day! One way, or another, thousands are praying that God will be glorified through your life. You've had a bigger impact on this world in your 3 short days than some of us have over the course of decades.

Daddy needs to be honest with you, I'm selfish. I don't want to think that your going to be with mommy and Jesus is an option. I want you right here. I don't want to ask God for a miracle, I want to demand one. I want Him to feel like he owes me this.

Your doctors here on Earth have been very kind and compassionate. They've made it clear that there's little more they can do. I appreciate all of their hard work, dedication, and expertise. I've made it clear to them that I'm working with a Physician who has done things they'll never dream of. A Physician who works 24/7. A Physician who will make you whole again, either here or in Heaven. This is where that selfishness comes into play, I want it to be here. I need it to be here.

It's still early in the day. The doctors and nurses are changing shifts, so it's a little chaotic around here right now. I find peace in the tranquil little space by your bed.

You will be surrounded today. Surrounded by family and friends. Surrounded by angels and prayer. Surrounded by God's love and care. But let's be clear, I want to surround you and keep you for myself.

I love you, more than I could have imagined,
Daddy

She who must be admired....

2011-02-07T08:48:00.001-05:00

The nursery here at the hospital is quiet right now. Shift change just ended a few minutes ago. I sit here beside "she who must be admired" and wait for our miracle.

The walk to the Holden NICU felt strange this morning. I realized that it's a path thousands of other parents have walked before me, and thousands more will walk after. It's an emotional path to walk, each step bringing you closer to your little loved one. It's hard not to get emotional on a walk like that...but I'm praying that I get to travel that path for many days to come.

Yesterday was a long, hard day. But it was a wonderful day, as well. The neurologists did not have a good report. Medically speaking, Miranda still does not have much, if any brain activity. They are going to do a full EEG today. Miranda spent yesterday surrounded by loving family, some of whom even got a chance to hold her, including me. I can not express in words how much it meant for me to be able to hold my precious little girl.

I have been "accused" of showing extreme courage and fortitude over the past couple of days. Don't be fooled folks, any strength you see is God. I'm so broken on the inside. Waves of despair, pain, and frustration do occasionally break over the levee, but I know that Jesus is there holding the flood back.

Today will be another long day, but I know that Miranda and I will be surrounded by family and love, both figuratively and literally. Praise God from whom all blessings flow. Praise him all creatures here below. Praise him above, ye heavenly hosts. Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.

My heart is broken...

2011-02-06T09:45:00.000-05:00

I lost my best friend of over 15 years yesterday. She was taken from this Earth far too early. Knowing that she is resting is Jesus loving care doesn't begin to address the emptiness and hurt that I feel today.

MLive News Report about our accident

Article about our daughter

Brown Floral reaction

Our daughter, Miranda Evangelene Cole, was "delivered" at 2:17PM, about 45 minutes after the crash. She did not have a heart beat. She was not breathing. The doctors were able to start her heart and get her on ventalation. She was then rushed to Mott's Children's Hospital in Ann Arbor, MI.

I fear that our time with Miranda may be short. I know that hundreds, if not thousands of people are praying for her, and for a miracle, today. It will take a miracle...

Even with the positives that the doctors keep reporting, the one thing that everything hinges on is brain activity, which Miranda is showing little to none of as we near the 24 hour mark. The neurologists haven't been in yet, but the pediatric doctors are worried that the neurologists finding won't be any different than their own.

If Miranda doesn't show any improvement by 7:30PM Tuesday evening, it's likely that we'll have to say goodbye to her, too.

I truly appreciate the love that's been expressed to my and Sara's family during this trajedy. We have felt the touch of angels and yet still find ourselves struggling with the reality of what has happened and what may be yet to come.

My heart is broken, please pray for Miranda. Please pray for a miracle. She's a beautiful little girl, and she's fighting, but she needs more help than what the doctors can give her.

Sincerely,
Chad Cole

Kick a meteorologist for me...

2011-01-31T14:02:00.000-05:00

Well, here we are...officially in the last month...and there's a huge snow storm on the way. Let's all cross our fingers and say a prayer and encourage the Lil' Shrimp to wait this one out. I'm of the opinion that there are already enough stories out there about women who went into labor early during the "big storm of whatever year it happened to be." :)

With a little more than 3 weeks to go, I find my mind drifting to the list of things we really should be doing to prepare for the baby's arrival. Hospital bags packed...not yet. Car seat in place...not yet. Crib all set up...not yet.

I know it will all get done, so I'm not too worried about it...yet.

We toured the labor and delivery floor at the hospital today. So, now we know where to go when it's time. During our tour, I made a joke about the potential for lots of babies being born over the next couple of days, due to the storm rolling in...Linda, our guide, didn't find seem to find much humor in it...not sure why.

With a little more than 4 and a half weeks to go...

2011-01-22T20:53:00.000-05:00

OK, which one of you jokers forgot to tell me about how hard it is to pick out a name for your child? :)

We've narrowed our list for both genders down to about 75 name combinations each...

You want something unique, but not dumb.

You want something original, but not "invented."

You want it to sound good when you say it out loud, especially when you have to yell it. :)

You want it to sound important, just in case your little one becomes the President some day.

You don't want the initials to spell out any dirty words.

You don't want to choose something that the other kids will turn into a tease.

You don't want to pick something that will make your teenage child hate you (any more than they already will.)

Our goal is to get it down to 10 options for each sex by the time the big day arrives. The list get's nicely cut in half once the baby is born. Hopefully choosing from the remaining 10 will be easy.

"Welcome to the world ?????"

And the winner is...

2011-01-02T21:34:00.001-05:00

Well, hello there 2011! Where did you come from? 2010, we barely knew ye!

What was my favorite memory of 2010? That easily happened on June 19. That's the day we found out about our Lil' Shrimp. I realize that everyone who has ever had a baby would probably say the same thing, but I'll always feel like it was extra special for us.

Like so many other couples who have struggled with having children, June 19 started off as a day of defeat. We'd been trying to have a baby for almost a year and a half. June 19 was seven days past the normal cut-off for finding out if we were going to get one line or two on that antagonistic little stick. June 19 was just going to be the confirmation that it hadn't worked. June 19 was supposed to be the validation for the phone call to the doctor's office on Monday.

Sara could have taken the test any time during that day. Why put off the inevitable? We both knew she'd have to do it, no matter what. But, it's human nature to put off things we find unpleasant though, isn't it? No one wants to rush into bad news, do they?

To be honest, I don't remember much else about that day. I just know it was evening. She had "to go" so she "went." I wasn't expecting much. It was the first time I'd had the opportunity to see the results as they appeared and turned it down. After all, what difference would it have made? This wasn't really a "test," it was just a compulsory act that the doctors told us had to be done before calling in the bad news on Monday.

When Sara started shouting my name I figured something must be wrong, horribly wrong. We'd been married almost 14 years at that point, the only time she shouted like that was when she needed help. As I raced through the house I was thinking, "Weren't things bad enough already? What else could possibly go wrong now?" I was not expecting excitement. I was anticipating anxiety. I was not suspecting...surprise!

Two lines...two beautiful...perfect...clearly readable pink lines...that's my best memory of 2010. You've got big shoes to fill 2011...big shoes...

10...9...8...

2010-12-23T13:10:00.000-05:00

63 days, plus or minus a few, and the roller coaster lets go from the top of the big hill! It seems like it was just yesterday that Lil' Shrimp was a pulsing blip in the ultrasound confirming his (or her, we still don't know so there's no need asking or assuming) arrival.

Being December 23, we're in the full swing of Christmas, the end of a year, and the beginning of a new one; which, for many people, brings about a certain amount of sentimental introspection. This year, I find myself looking forward as much or more than looking back. Looking forward to new life. Looking forward to new experiences, new challenges, and new responsibilities.

I'm finding that the nine months that new parents have to get ready really turns out to be a good thing, mostly from the standpoint of emotional/mental preparation. This isn't like getting a dog (or cat). You don't run down to the baby store, pick out the cutest one from the pen, and take it home for a lifetime of happiness and joy. You can't just take it back when it pees on the floor or poops where/when you don't want it to poop :)

On the baby front, Lil' Shrimp seems to be doing great. Measuring fine, heart beat sounds fine, moving all the time, etc. There is less kicking going on these days, but that's expected, since there's less room to move.

As we move into a new year, and I really feel an emphasis on the NEW part of that, I wish you the best. May God's blessings be upon you.

And in this corner...

2010-12-08T20:49:00.000-05:00

Our journey recently took a very surprising turn, but it really doesn't have anything to do with us :) It turns out our Lil' Shrimp is going to have a local cousin show up on the scene in June. We're so excited for Aaron and Sarah and that they will quickly be joining us as parents.

My parents are both from Midland. For many of my childhood years, most of my cousins lived up in the Midland area (about 2 hours away from here.) We only got to see our cousins (and grandparents) a few times each year, and I have to admit that I was always a little jealous of my cousins who got to see each other (and grandpa's and grandma's) on a more regular basis.

Knowing that our baby will have at least one cousin to grow up with, and that neither set of grandparents lives more than an hour away, really does make the situation all that much more warm and fuzzy.

We've only got about 11 weeks left, give or take a day or two. The reality of Lil' Shrimp's imminent arrival is starting to hit me harder...when I get time to think about it. Work's still been crazy busy and I sometimes feel like that's distracting from our journey, and not in a positive way. Working 50 and 60 hour weeks isn't something I'm doing by choice. The work's there and it needs to get done, but my feelings about that are about to hang a hard left. I've been chanting a mantra in my head that once Lil' Shrimp gets here, all the extra hours are over. If my company won't hire enough people to make sure the work is done well, then I guess they'll just have to deal with it not being done well. We do have a new person who will be starting (not sure when) but experience tells me that even their addition won't be enough to bring our ability to provide quality service up to what I believe to be a realistic level. The hard part for me is that that seems to be perfectly acceptable in the education industry.

Back to the task at hand, sorry about the tangent...we really haven't done much around the house to prepare for Lil' Shrimp's arrival. Sara isn't going to be going back to work after Christmas, so I'm sure that will start to change soon. It's a good thing babies aren't very independently mobile for the first 6 months. I think it's going to take us that long to really get our house in order and prepared for a mobile child!

We had another doctors appointment today and the old adage that no news is good news applies. Things seem to be progressing very normally at this point, which is great. It's hard to believe that by the time we get through the holiday rush we'll be down to 2 months. Enjoy the holiday season and have a Merry Christmas, I know we're going to try to!

And then there were 13...or 12...or 14...

2010-11-24T21:51:00.000-05:00

The last of the monthly doctors visits was today, we're starting every two weeks now, followed too soon by weekly visits and then, WHAM, itza baby!

We seem to have a very hiccupy baby. Sara was able to identify the crackles when listening to the heartbeat with the flutters she feels on a regular basis and it turns out they're hiccups :) The super accurate measurements (small tape measure stretched across a growing belly) today show the baby is growing well, maybe too well. The doctor said our little one is a little ahead of the curve in terms of size and development for 27 weeks (not by much, just a little.)

In other news, we've had our first "what's that poking out of my belly moment." Sara noticed a "lump" on the side of her belly the other night. Not sure which part of the baby it was, but it was exciting to realize it was our Lil' Shrimp.

It's hard to believe this chapter will be over in 3 short months and a new chapter begins.

I gotta go....no, I don't...yes, I do...

2010-11-06T18:42:00.000-04:00

Lil' Shrimp's itching for a name change these days. Sara came home from work one day and regaled me with the tale of how the baby had been kicking her bladder all day long at work. One minute she's fine and the next she's ready to explode, then back to fine. I try not to laugh about it (at least not to her face.)

Apparently, her bladder has become the baby's favorite punching bag. It's been pretty much constant since then. A good push or punch, then wait a couple minutes and do it all over again.

We're just getting into week 24, so the next 4 weeks mark the time when babies are usually most active. I guess it's because there's still room enough for them to move around in there. Of course, Lil' Shrimp (or is is Baby Bladder Blaster) is on to me. Sara will tell me when there's kicking and spinning going on, and by the time I get my hand down there to feel it, Lil' Shrimp stops. Must be a boy...already challenging dad :)

It's been over a month since we had the ultrasound and it's hard to believe the anxiety we went through deciding whether or not to find out the baby's sex. Now that the decision is a month behind us, not knowing doesn't seem like that big of a deal.

Statistically speak, Lil' Shrimp should be about 9 inches (head to rump) and about a pound and a half. Still a lot of growing to do, but we're well on our way.

Half way home...

2010-10-24T12:31:00.001-04:00

We're officially half way through the journey to the big day (actually, a little more than half way.)

Yesterday, we went out and did some registry stuff. First stop was Toy House & Baby Too, here in Jackson. This is where we shop for gifts for the other children in our lives, but it's really the first time we've gone through the store and really scrutinized what we would like for our child. If every city in America had a Toy House, that other big toy chain would go out of business. Of course, the Baby Too section of the store is less about toys and more about life, especially the sleeping and mobility portions. The best part about Toy House is the staff, they are so nice and pleasant to work with. At times it felt like we had our own personal shopping assistant, which was great since we really have no idea what we're doing at this point. :)

After registering for all the cool stuff at Toy House, we headed to Target (properly pronounced tahr-zhay), to look for the "day to day you're going to need this, and this, and this" stuff. Bottles...check, pacifiers...check, onesies...check, etc...check. The only problem we ran into was trying to register for clothing. Saying that the selection of gender neutral infant clothing is sparse is, shall we say, an understatement. Apparently if you've decided that knowing the gender of your baby in advance isn't something you want to do, retailers don't have much to offer. Oh well, they always look good in white...

In other news, I think we're feeling our first movements. For a while there, it was hard to tell if what Sara was feeling was baby or...well...you know...gas. I think we've turned the corner though and it's definitely more often baby. She had me check to see if I could feel anything last night, and I did! Even knowing that I would eventually feel this little one squirming around in there didn't prepare me for that little flutter I felt.

Work is still super busy, and that doesn't look like it's going to change a whole lot before Christmas. Fortunately I did get to take a week off recently, and it was wonderful spending all of that time with my beautiful wife and the Lil' Shrimp. We headed up north and did the color tour thing and spent a few days at home doing absolutely nothing. All in all, this experience is going by way too fast for me. Of course, Sara's experiencing just the opposite. It feels like she's been pregnant forever :)

We have another doctor's appointment coming up soon, and I think we're quickly heading to the time when they start coming up more often than once a month. We'll keep you posted if anything changes.

Here's a picture of me, Sara, and the Lil' Shrimp enjoying the Tunnel of Trees in northwest Michigan. It took us almost 2 hours to drive 30 miles from Harbor Springs to the "end of the road."

Today was the big ultrasound, and we're having a...

2010-10-04T16:26:00.003-04:00

...baby!

We decided that finding out can wait, at least for now. There's an element of surprise that is nice, and we feel like it takes some of the pressure off of picking a name...for now anyway.

No issues with the calendar today. We arrived on time, and then waited for almost 15 minutes...which really didn't make me very happy knowing that when we were 15 minutes late, the appointment got canceled, but they can be accommodating when the delay is on their side.

Afer it was all said and done, the lady who did the ultrasound says it looks like the due date estimate of the last week of February is right on track, so they're not adjusting anything in regards to expected delivery time (I know Aaron has money on the 24th...)

So, without further adieu...watch our Lil' Shrimp swim around for a bit:

They gave us a few pictures, too.

Because reading a calendar is just so hard...

2010-09-29T14:09:00.000-04:00

It's my fault...100%

This appointment has been on my calendar for four weeks. It's on the right day. It's even got the right time in the appointment notes. Ultrasound @ 11:00AM.

The calendar appointment is set for 10:30AM. I wanted to make sure no one at work scheduled me for a meeting that would run up to 11:00AM, forcing me to have to reschedule so I could make it to the appointment.

I've looked at this appointment on my calendar every day for the past four weeks in anticipation of today. I looked at it multiple times through the morning and still managed to screw it up. :(

It feels like the worst day ever, even if it isn't...

Thirty is the new twenty...at least that's what I heard...

2010-09-20T14:52:00.003-04:00

Whew, what a whirlwind. I'd say it's nice to take a break, but that's not entirely the truth. I'm actually taking a sick day, thus giving me time to compose some of the things I've been thinking about for some time (and yes, I'm actually sick, it's not like I took a day off work to blog.)

Way back when, in the time before any of you knew that we were going to have a baby, a friend casually mentioned to me, in an unrelated conversation about having children, that "thirty is the new twenty." At the time, she had no idea she was saying this to a late 30's, just found out his wife is pregnant, and been keeping the big secret for almost two weeks now fella. The impact of what she said really didn't hit home until recently.

When we first found out this was actually happening, numbers started running through my head. I'm a numbers kind of guy. Playing with numbers fascinates me for some reason. I realize that puts me in a special group of people. :) Now, these numbers don't necessarily mean anything, they're just things I think about. They're not necessarily positive or negative, just numbers, numbers related to my life and the life of our child.

Here's one I've posted before: I'll be 39 when our child is born. Brett Favre (yes, that Brett Favre) is a little more than 2 years older than me and his grandson will be almost 1 year old when my child is born. Now there's some numbers to think about.

I was 13 when my dad turned 39. I remember what a big deal it was when he turned 40. If 30 IS the new 20, maybe my kid will think the same thing about me turning 50 (eek!)

When my mom turned 39, I was a junior in high school, 17 years old, little more than a year from heading to college. This kid won't head off to college until I'm about 57...so much for retiring when I'm 60 :)

My my mom's dad turned 45...3 months after I was born. I'll be 44 when kindergarten rolls around. At first, this number terrified me, especially considering the sentence at the start of this paragraph. I couldn't help but think what it would be like to be at kindergarten roundup with the rest of the parents who will technically be young enough to BE my children. However, the more I started thinking about it, and pondered what my friend had said, the more I realized that I may not be the only "old man" in the room. I actually know a lot of people in their 30's, and not just their early 30's, who are having children...maybe 30 really is the new 20, after all! There will be plenty of other people using canes and walkers at high school graduation in 2029!

We're 17 weeks in at this point. We've got the big ultrasound coming up next Wednesday. At this point, I think we're leaning strongly toward telling the technician to keep any information about gender to themselves. It might just be a game day decision though :)

In the interest of keeping things visually "interesting" below is an image of what Pamper's tells me the lil' shrimp looks like right about now. Weighing in at about 7 to 8 ounces and 5 to 6 inches from head to rump. Fingerprints are actually starting to form right about now. Bones are hardening and the baby will starting hearing us soon, if he/she hasn't already.

Give me a beat boys...

2010-09-01T17:29:00.001-04:00

We'll, we had out second official doctor's visit today. It was short and sweet to say the least. 30+ minutes of waiting in the lobby for a 10 minute visit. The payoff was worth it though...we got to hear the heartbeat of our child again :)

We also set the date for the ultrasound, 4 weeks from today, on September 29. The big question is: do we want to know or not (the gender of course)? I have a feeling we might not make up our minds until just prior to going to the appointment.

A stitch in time...

2010-08-27T19:27:00.000-04:00

Those of you who know my wife, know that sewing is something she enjoys. Based on some of her projects from the past, I think our baby will be the cutest one on the block.

Below is a picture of some of the quilt blocks she's putting together for a baby quilt. It should be ready for some work come Thanksgiving, so get your quilting supplies ready great grandma Ware :)

Operation feline release is complete...

2010-08-22T21:31:00.000-04:00

Well, if you're reading this, you're definitely in the know! Our little secret ain't so secret any more :)

The congratulations and positive feedback has been overwhelming!

I'll do my best to keep this blog up-to-date, so feel free to check back now and again to see the latest on our lil' shrimp.

Did I let the cat out of the bag?

2010-08-22T10:16:00.000-04:00

First, who keeps their cats in a bag?

Today is the day! In a mere 2 hours, this little secret won't be a secret any more.

We actually told my parents yesterday. Sara's parent will find out at around noon today, and the rest of you will find out soon after.

Guess I'll have to change the subtitle of the blog, eh?

Just like Christmas morning...

2010-08-20T17:48:00.001-04:00

It's quite possible that you'll all find out about this in just a couple of days. :)

September 12 really is just too far away. When Sara got home from work the other night, she commented that it's been getting harder and harder to "suck it in" so the folks she works with don't notice that she's starting to show (not a whole lot mind you, but just enough that it's unrealistic to think we'll make it another 4 weeks without having to come clean.)

With that in mind, this may just be the weekend. I talked to her today and I think she's in agreement that now that we're more than 13 weeks in, we might as well just get this one little detail out of the way. And it will actually be a relief. I've never been great at keeping secrets, especially good ones. I'm lucky that we typically don't buy each other extravagant Christmas and birthday gifts (if we buy any at all.) If I buy a gift for her more than a few days in advance, I have a horrible time not just giving it too her. The fact that I've made it to mid-August is actually quite a feat.

Waiting until September 12th and announcing it to our parents on Grandparent's day would have been neat, but it also would have been almost half way through the pregnancy. I think any of you who have had a baby can probably attest to the fact that hiding something like this at 17 weeks would be more than just a little difficult.

Maybe she'll talk me out of it, maybe not. If she doesn't you'll all have the scoop by Monday morning!

Time is slipping away...

2010-08-16T17:05:00.001-04:00

I was just reading through all my posts, it seems like I just posted a couple of days ago but it's been almost 2 weeks! Like I said earlier, as we approach the start of the school year, time just gets a away from me at work. I haven't had a day off since we got home from Boston, but I'm planning on taking this next weekend off, no matter how big the fires at work have gotten. A man's gotta rest at some point.

The shrimp is getting to the point of needing to add a "jumbo" in front (have people always compared the size of their developing baby to food, i.e. peanut, pea-pod, peach pit. apple, etc.?) With almost 4 weeks to go until we plan on telling everyone, Sara is at the point of hoping people just think she's getting fat. In my heart of hearts, I'm pretty sure I've never met a woman who actually hoped people thought she was gaining weight. :)

We're 13 weeks in now. Clothes are starting to become a problem. Old clothes don't fit, actual maternity clothes are too big. Shopping for maternity clothes can be surprisingly difficult, when you're trying to keep something like this a secret. It might be awkward to explain why you're in the maternity section holding clothes up to see how they might look/fit if someone you know walks by, and Murphy's law pretty much assures that they will. However, Sara has been able avoid it somewhat by shopping during the day, when most people we know are working. She doesn't work on Tuesday and Wednesday and most of the people shopping in the early afternoon don't know her from Eve (that's probably the nicest way of saying the average shopper on a Tuesday afternoon is a little older than our friends and my parents friends...in fact, they're pretty darn old.)

Of course, as the time seems to go by quickly for me, it's kind of dragging for her. She's looking forward to that 2nd trimester when most women get a little of their energy back. Maybe then I can talk her into mowing the lawn on those days of work... :)

Thumpity, thump, thump.....

2010-08-04T16:55:00.002-04:00

We got to hear our babies heartbeat this morning. Everything sounded good to us and good to the mid-wife doing the exam. She confirmed that we're at 11 weeks which means the shrimp is a little over 1.5 inches long now. Just a couple more weeks and everything that makes up a baby will be there. The mid-wfie said that after about the 13th week it's mostly just growth, with little development of new parts and pieces.

Hearing the heartbeat got me thinking, I'm starting to wonder if the "information age"is having a negative impact on people's reactions to these things that used to cause great joy. We've been doing our homework, so we kind of know what to expect at the appointments. We heard the heartbeat, smiled, and that was about it. I think the mid-wife was expecting a little more of a reaction, but we've both heard babies heartbeats on the internet and in videos prior to this...a lot, so hearing it was mostly just comforting, not a surprise. The same thing happened when we had the ultrasound at the clinic in Ann Arbor; we were happy, but neither of us started crying, shouting, jumping around, or were overcome with emotion. You could tell that the doctor was probing for more of a response than he seemed to be getting during the ultrasound.

Has information numbed us to joy? Are the surprises of yesterday just expectations today? Of course, I'm not just talking about our pregnancy, I mean as a society as a whole. Does having practically unlimited access to more information than we can possibly comprehend make us a little less human?

Either way, we're excited, even if it doesn't show in the exam room!

Another visit to the doctor coming up on September 1, followed by the big announcement on September 12 (sorry if you feel left out, we're only planning on inviting our parents for that,) then we'll finally get an ultrasound in late September or early October. By the time we go back to the doctor again, shrimp should have outgrown the nickname and be about 4 inches from head to rump. By the time we get to the ultrasound, over 6 inches.

PS - As I was listening to the current Brett Favre drama on the way home from work today, it occurred to me that Brett, who is 2 years and 3 months older than me, has a 4 month old grandson right now. How weird is that?

Time flies...unless you're pregnant...

2010-08-02T16:43:00.001-04:00

It's been a little over 6 weeks since we first found out. For me that time has flown by...not so much for Sara. Apparently being pregnant makes every day drag on in an endless eternity of discomfort and pain. OK, that may be a bit hyperbolic, but I'm pretty sure it seems to be going a lot faster for me than it is for her.

We've made it through the big July 4 camping weekend, a couple of big family get togethers, and a week in Boston with her sisters. So far, no slips, which is pretty amazing. With so many people we know having babies, and the reality of it something we talk about every day, I'm amazed that neither of us has let it slip out, absentmindedly, in a conversation yet.

Once you all find out, I hope you don't mind that we waited so long to tell.

Out planned "coming out" event is just a month away now. That time will be over before I know it. Work is kicking into high gear as we prepare for the new school year. Daily training sessions start next Monday and I've still got 3 or 4 weeks of catch up work from last year in my queue. No rest for me until Labor Day, which may be a good thing. The more focused I am on work, the less time I spend thinking about the "shrimp" (the official name now bestowed upon our offspring) during the work day. The less time I spend thinking about the shrimp, the less likely I am to spill the beans without meaning to. :)

Back to my poor dear wife...

I'm surprised she didn't just blurt it out while we were in Boston, especially the first couple of days when she was trying to keep up with her sisters. They were pretty active during the day, out and about, shopping and doing lots of walking. I'm learning that lots of activity isn't something most pregnant women enjoy. She was completely pooped by the end of the first day. She hung on (and out) as long as she could before succumbing to "shrimp exhaustion." So Sue and Felicia, now you now, your big sister was feeling sluggish for a reason.

The trip to Boston helped me gain some perspective, too. It was probably the last big trip event we'll do as just a couple for another 20 years, maybe more. As we did our sight-seeing I got the warm fuzzies thinking about how in the near future, these types of things will be "family" events, not just the two of us.

Our first official appointment with the doctor here at home is coming up in two days. I think we're both a little anxious and curious about what's going to happen. We had our last appointment, and confirmation of the pregnancy, in Ann Arbor over a month ago. Even with everything we've been reading about the process, it feels like we still don't know what to expect. Going to a doctor here definitely makes it seem more real (not that it hasn't already felt real, it just MORE real now.)

September 12 feels like it's right around the corner....for one of us anyway.

The times, they are a changin'

2010-07-08T15:30:00.003-04:00

We may have experienced our first craving (does it bother you if I refer to "us" even when I'm really just talking about her?). As Sara was getting ready for bed the other night she commented that she felt hungry and wanted a bologna sandwich with mustard. We'll classify this as a craving for 2 reasons:

Sara would normally choose death over a bologna sandwich.
If she did choose a bologna sandwich, the last thing she'd want on it is mustard. Mustard is an ingredient she'll cook with, but to put it on food is not something she does often, if ever.

This may have been a one time thing. Last night, I mentioned bologna sandwiches with mustard as an option for dinner and she was pretty clear in letting me know that that no longer held any appeal.

I've been doing a lot of reading about pregnancy (I was told it was my job to be the designated researcher) and this really is an amazing process. We were blown away that we could see the heart beat so early. As of today our baby is almost half an inch long, and it looks like it grows about a half an inch per week from here on out. The next doctors appointment is August 4. I'm anticipating it, and find myself counting down days to specific points on the timeline on a pretty regular basis.

Other things that keep creeping through my head tend to be a little more selfish. Things like watching TV without being interrupted (or just watching TV), snuggling up in the morning, making last minute plans to go out, etc. are all lifestyle things that have days which are numbered. Sara and I have 14 years of togetherness that's about to be shaken to its core. I'm not anticipating this in a bad way, just anxious about how big of a change it will be for two people who have not had to share themselves with anyone but each other to now have to devote a significant amount of energy and resources to another person. That sounds a lot worse than I mean it to be (and I've tried re-writing it a dozen times.) I guess that's why God gives us 9 months to figure it out and get used to things.

Still, I can't help feel like there are lots of positives to having waited so long to have kids as well. Sara and I have an identity as a couple that's not bound up in other things or people..for now. We have 14 years of just being ourselves and I feel like we've built a pretty solid foundation as far as who we are as people and as a couple. I think some couples probably don't get to experience the relationship we have now until they finally get their kids out of the house. That's not to say I think people who get married and have kids right away are making mistakes, I think they just experience some of life's pleasures in a different chronological order than we have. Our feeling is that we know what's waiting on the other side of raising a family, so there won't be too many surprises when we get there. How's that for thinking ahead? :) It's likely I'll be in my early 60's before it's back to just being the two of us.

A big challenge for me, even just 3 weeks in, is keeping this news a secret. Each day it becomes more real for me, but the people around me have no idea. The more Sara and I talk about things at home, the more self-censoring I find myself having to do in conversations at work, especially when planning out training sessions and other items for the next school year. I spent yesterday morning in a planning session. I know I'm going to be taking some time off work in February/March, but it's hard to come up with reasons not to schedule training for those weeks without having a "why." So far people haven't pushed me for the why, let's hope it stays that way for at least another 7 weeks.

Cat's still in the bag

2010-07-06T03:01:00.007-04:00

We wrapped up our 4th of July successfully. Four straight days spent with close family and friends, and we managed to get through it without letting our little secret slip out. In the end, it wasn't as hard as I had thought it might be. Speaking for myself, it was mostly just watching what I said and being careful not to tip my hand, especially during conversations about "the future."

We've decided that we're going to try not telling anyone until September. The goal is to first tell our parents on Grandparents Day (September 12 for those of you who keep track of these things) and follow up with our family and friends soon after. We'll see if we can make it. :)

We know that the reaction of most people will probably be pure shock. We'll have celebrated our 14th anniversary prior to telling people. At this point most of our friends and family have probably just assumed having kids was something we'd never do.

We've always wanted a family, the sticking point's just been getting it started. We weren't sure if we'd even be able to have our own kids, so we'd talk about adoption periodically, but we never put any plans in motion (life's what happens while you're making plans, right.) I guess we just reached a point where the desire to try outgrew the fear of trying. It's been a long road since we made that decision, and doubt has been an ever growing obstacle, so we're just as shocked as you are :)

September 12 seems like both an eternity away and like it's right around the corner. From one perspective it's 10 weeks away, over two months! That seems like a long time to wait and tell anyone. From another perspective it seem's like it's going to fly by. We have "events" taking place the next 4 weekends in a row, and my work schedule is going to keep me super busy well into the start of September. August will be here before you know it, and for me it's going to fly by (even if it is one day at a time.)

One of my worries at this point is that I'll end up missing out on some of the "doctory" stuff that will happen between now and the end of the first trimester. Starting August 9, my schedule is jam packed with training events right up until Labor Day weekend. Between now and August 9 I have a lot of work to do getting ready for that training. Sara hasn't scheduled anything with a local OBGYN yet (last trip to IVF Michigan was the day before we went on vacation) so I'll just have to wait and see when things get scheduled. They did finally hire me a co-worker to help with the work load, but he just officially started on July 1, and has minimal experience right now. We have 15 work days where we'll both be at work between now and August 9 and I've got to get him trained to the point where he can lead training on his own. Like I said, each day will probably seem long, but they are going to fly by at the same time.

Wouldn't it be nice...

2010-07-04T16:32:00.007-04:00

Now that we're into "full blown acknowledgement" mode, but still in "our little secret" mode, too, we find ourselves both relishing things that will be our last "just the two of us" moments as well as thinking forward to "what will this be like with a baby?"

We're camping this weekend, the annual 4th of July camping trip we take every year, to Somerset Beach Campground, with anyone from my mom's family who can make it. If everyone came, we'd have 34 people. For various reasons we usually hold steady at about 25. What makes this year different is that there will be at least 4 new babies (God willing) eligible to make their first 4th of July camping trip next summer. Having babies at camp is nothing new, we've been through it 4 times in the past few years now. However, having OUR new baby at camp is a somewhat terrifying (pleasantly terrifying) thought.

Of course, everyone but Sara and me only knows about the "other" three babies. At times, it's been difficult keeping that secret. In the course of conversation, someone will mention the three new babies next year, and I find myself holding back a "no, four." Other times, it's hard not to bring it into the conversation. In thinking ahead to what camping will be like with a 4 month old baby, we'd like to change lots next year so that we're not so close to the nightly campfire noise, but it's hard to express that without expressing the why. Instead I probably just come across as a crotchety old fart (which, admittedly, I am becoming.)

One of the big challenges this year has been trying to avoid the "pregnant" conversations. My cousin is expecting her second later this year, and her brother's wife is expecting their first in just a few months. They have both been camping with us and my other cousin, who didn't make it this year, is expecting his first in just a few short weeks. As I've mentioned before, Sara and I have both typically shied away from the "here's what my pregnancy/delivery was like" conversations. In a setting like this it can be kind of funny to watch and see how quickly either of us can get up and move away, without it looking too obvious, when such a conversation starts up. Bless you all for caring and sharing, but we really want to experience as much of this as possible without having any preconceived notions or expectations. We're just not at a point where hearing other people's stories (horror, funny, or otherwise) is helpful for either of us. A time may come when it is, but just not yet.

It's been a fun four days, knowing something that everyone else doesn't know, and looking forward to a completely new experience next year. No matter what, it's is sure to be different. :)

One, two, three strikes....

2010-06-30T20:10:00.007-04:00

Today was the day! We visited the IVF Michigan in Ann Arbor for our last visit with Dr. Ayers; but, most importantly for an ultrasound to confirm what we've known/suspected for the past 11 days...it's a baby.

Of course, we knew it was going to be a baby, despite the dreams Sara has been having about having puppies (can I get a LOL?) But we've had our worries. When you have difficulty getting pregnant, sometimes it can feel like things are bound to go wrong, even when they're going right. You try and fail. You try and fail. When something good happens, acceptance isn't as easy as you'd think it would be, regardless of how happy you may be.

Anywho, our fears/concern/anxieties/worries have been alleviated (at least until the next round kick in.) According to the doctor everything seems to be good and he thinks we'll have a (one) baby sometime between February 14 and February 28.

Two down, one to go....

2010-06-24T16:52:00.007-04:00

The reality of things is still setting in.

Positive home pregnancy test...check!

Positive blood test...check!

Trip to the doctors office...next week.....

An overall feeling of excitement has started to creep in, but I think we're both still waiting for that final "check" before we finally feel like this is for real and happening. It's not that we doubt the results of the first 2 test, and it's not that we're not happy. We're extremely happy, just reserved in that happiness.

That reservation is probably a result of the process and some of what we've been through in trying to get here. We first started this process almost 16 months ago. For those of you who get pregnant just at the thought of having a baby, we're a little jealous. We've fallen into the category of those who need a little pharmaceutical help in this area. The frustrating part for us was knowing going into it that this was our most likely reality, but it didn't feel like we could convince the doctors of it. They were determined that we should just let nature take it's course and THEN if nothing happened they'd start checking into things. I guess that's fine for most people, but we're not most people and, without going into the details, we had some insight that said there might be some extra challenges to overcome. It took us 13+ years to get to the point of really wanting this to happen. Having to wait almost a year and a half, and endure the doctors visits, takes some of the shine off the apple.

One of the hardest parts has been watching other people "get it right." Since we started trying:

one of my cousins had a baby about 1 month into our process
my brother and his wife had their 3rd child about 5 months into our process
another of my cousins announced their pregnancy about 8 months into our process
two more of my cousins announced their pregnancies about 11 months into our process, one a first timer, one on her 2nd
one of my wife's cousins announced her 2nd about a month ago

We're really happy for all of these people, honestly, but I'd be lying if I told you we weren't jealous and frustrated watching other family and friends enjoy the experience we've been longing to have ourselves.

With this in mind, we hope you'll all understand why we didn't rush right out and tell everyone. Add into the mix that we're both first borns and we both want to go through this process as a couple, without a lot of preconceived (no pun intended) notions about what to expect.

We're less than a week in, fully expecting that this will be our happy little secret for at least a few months.

Timing is everything...

2010-06-21T04:19:00.007-04:00

Ironically, yesterday was Father's Day. :)

Less than 24 hours after finding out that fatherhood seems to be impending, I had to leave my beautiful bride, Sara, for a 3 day conference. On my way out of town I stopped by Culver's to grab some lunch via the drive through. When I pulled up to the window to pay and get my grub, the cashier asked if I was a father...I'm pretty sure she must have thought I was mentally challenged based on the look that was probably on my face and the way I fumbled with my response, "uhhh....huh?....no, not yet anyway....uhhhhh." Apparently they were giving away free frozen custard to fathers. :)

I was expecting some type of euphoria to have set in by now, but mostly I find myself in a state of disbelief. Can this really be happening? Will that euphoric feeling ever arrive? Mostly I'm starting to feel more nervous at the prospect of being a father.

Two pink lines....

2010-06-19T22:02:00.009-04:00

I'm not going to lie, I'm still in shock.

After 16 months of trying, we finally got two pink lines on a pregnancy test. We're both happy, but I honestly think we're both in shock. At this point, you really almost feel relief more than anything, I'm sure other emotions will flood in over the next few days, but tonight it's enough to cuddle up together, sleep sweetly, and hope for the best.

Beginnings...

2010-06-18T21:12:00.000-04:00

Every story has a beginning, even ones that don’t have a happily ever after. Here is ours…

Sara and I met at Spring Arbor College in the spring of 1995. She was a freshman living on Alpha II. I was a dropout who was returning to finish my degree. We didn’t start dating right away; as a matter of fact we really didn’t get to know each other until she returned for her sophomore year. I got her attention that spring with my two beagle puppies. I had gotten them the previous fall, while living with my aunt and uncle in Muskegon, and brought them home with me when I moved back to go to college.

In the fall of 1995, I was a part time student with a steady income and lots of time to spend hanging out in the dorms. I remember sitting in the TV lounge one day and spending more time watching the girl sitting on the couch across from me than the TV. It wasn’t long before she started hanging out near me, especially if I brought my guitar to the lounge. We eventually started talking, staying up late, and getting to know each other. Homecoming was just a few weeks away and I was trying to work up the courage to ask her to go with me when, surprise, she asked me. I found out later that she only asked me after putting a letter in the mail in which she broke up with her boyfriend back home. Sucked to be him, I guess.

The Homecoming dinner was held in the college dinning commons and I was the MC for the event. Part of my duties included introducing all the couples that had gotten engaged over the past year. I didn’t know at the time that I’d be married to the love of my life less than 10 months later. That night was magical. We held hands, went for a walk, talked about “us,” and decided that “us” was a good thing to pursue. At the end of the night, I dropped her off at her dorm and kissed her. It was our first kiss. One I’ll never forget. That was October 27, 1995.

The next night we went to a dance. I’m not all that much into dancing, but every time an opportunity to slow dance came, I made sure Sara was in my arms, slowly twirling around the barn floor. I fell in love with her that night. She looked up at me with a look in her eyes that I would see again on the most special of occasions and I was sold.

We were the stereotypical annoying couple; always together, always holding hands, always smooching more than anyone wanted to see. I went to visit her family for the first time over Thanksgiving; she came up to Midland to visit my extended family. Neither one of us got scared or ran away. I remember writing in my journal that weekend that I was sure I’d found “the one.” It was less than 30 days after we had started dating, but I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Sara. Unfortunately, she wasn’t as sure at that point. We got back from Thanksgiving break and she started to wonder if this was really what she wanted. Had she been any other girl, my persistence would have probably driven her away. Three weeks later, as we sat in my car on a cold snowy night, I gave her my ultimatum (was I really that stupid?) She needed to make up her mind about whether she wanted to be with me or not. She must have felt sorry for me, because she leaned in close and whispered, “I choose you.”

Christmas break arrived, and I got the chance to meet her mom’s extended family. A week later she had a second chance to meet mine. For the second time, we’d seen the circus and neither one bolted for the door. I’ll never forget the night, near the end of break, when we sat in the dark in her parent’s dining room talking quietly around long kisses. At one point I told her that, “If things keep going the way they’re going, I just might ask you to marry me.” She didn’t pause as she responded, “I just might say yes.”

Sara’s birthday was on January 11. She was going to be 20 years old and I thought it might be a good idea to take her out to eat to celebrate. I had no idea what the night had in store. I picked her up at the dorm and we headed out into the dark cold night to the Brandywine. We both ordered steak for dinner. We both ate a little, but spent more time holding hands and looking at each other across the table. I don’t remember what we talked about, but I’ll never forget that night. It was starting to become obvious that neither of us was going to eat much more. The conversation had dwindled to nothing. We just sat there, looking at each other, and the words just spilled out of my mouth, “How do you ask someone to marry you when you don’t have a ring?” Again, she didn’t pause before saying, “You just ask.” And so I did. I got down on one knee, took her hand in my hand, and asked, “Will you marry me?” She blushed, and her eyes had the look they had when we slow danced on that night several months before, and without missing a beat she said, “Yes!”

We realized we needed to let our families in on this. I wasn’t too worried about mine. I was going to be 24 in just a few weeks, getting married was something I knew my family would embrace, even if it hadn’t been discussed or expected. We went to my mom’s office in the morning and broke the news. There was a spontaneous party with her coworkers. I don’t remember telling my dad, but mom must have taken care of it for us. I have a vague memory of her making a phone call to him at work while we were in her office.

Telling Sara’s family was another concern. I’d only met her parents a few times. I had asked their daughter to marry me without talking to them about it first. We drove over to their house, about an hour away from school, and sat out in the driveway for a good 30 minutes trying to work up the courage to walk in and make our announcement. We finally took a deep breath, got out of the car, and made our way inside, only to find an empty house. The entire family was out picking up movies to watch from Blockbuster. By the time they returned home, we had chickened out. Pleasantries were had and we were soon watching the first feature of the night, which just happened to be Four Weddings and a Funeral. As the credits rolled, and people started getting up to stretch, grab some snacks, and get ready for the second movie, I managed to blurt out that Sara and I had something we wanted to talk to them about. I remember the room getting really quiet. I got even quieter when I told them that Sara and I wanted to get married. Sara’s brother, Daniel, finally broke the silence by asking if this was a joke because of the movie we’d just watched. I’m pretty sure her parents were mostly just shocked. We talked about marriage, and what it meant. Her dad kept asking me questions about marriage and what I thought marriage was about while trying to use allegories of boats to make his points. That night probably could have gone better, but it could have also gone much worse.

The next 8 months went by in a blur. The next thing we knew it was August 10, 1996. We stood in front of God, our families, and friends; declared our love and devotion to each other, and were pronounced man and wife. The next 14 years were filled with adventure, devotion, challenges, and even a few disappointments; but mostly they were filled with love; a love that culminated in the story that started its tale in this blog on June 19, 2010.

The picture above was taken two weeks after we found out that Miranda was on the way. We knew it would be the last camping picture with just the two of us...