I need a vacation...

Rejoice in our suffering...

As most of you know, John Paul the Great passed away 2 hours before John Mark and I received the Sacrament of Marriage on April 2, 2005. I was getting my dress on in my mother-in-law's office across the street from the Cathedral. I was alone. The bells tolled, and I knew. I knew he had passed. I remember just dropping to my knees and praying a prayer of thanksgiving that he no longer suffered. Praying for our Church who would undoubtedly feel the gaping hole which had been his great and wonderful papacy. During our marriage ceremony, while my brother Joe began the Prayers of the Faithful with a prayer that our Papa rest in peace, I cried because I knew how much we would all miss him.

I was searching for this song, Homesick, by Mercy Me, on youtube because it has spoken powerfully to me these past 7 months. Seeing this video of JPII hit home because I can see now just how united we all are in Christ. I can see now how Bernadette was welcomed into heaven by all the angels and saints, including our beloved pope. I can't tell you how much comfort I find in that.

One thing that a lot of my friends may not know is that my mother and father lost their first child hours after his birth. They were always very open about it, but being the youngest of six and having a very relaxed childhood, it was just a part of our family's history. I felt no connection towards Emerick, my older brother. I was very sad for my parents, but until Bernadette died, I never really got what it must have been like for them. My mother never even got to see her son. How blessed we were to be able to hold our daughter and say goodbye.

Emerick was also at the gates of heaven to greet his niece. To carry her home. Thank God for that. Thank God for eternity.

Falling Slowly

Shattered Hopes

This video pretty much sums up our experience. It was very difficult to listen to this couple share their story - many tears were shed because the emotions I experienced during my 20 wk ultrasound and during the subsequent months were precisely what they were describing in this interview. The anger towards God, the fear to hope for miraculous healing, the feelings of complete loss of control. Shattered hopes.

I remember calling John Mark from my car with the news that our baby was sick. Not believing the words coming out of my mouth. It was such a slap in the face when the news just kept getting worse. I yelled at God - why are you letting this happen? What have I done wrong? I have been faithful to you, why aren't you faithful to me? And when she died, I just couldn't understand why he would take her from us when we had done everything we could to save her.

But there's always that quiet voice in my head that reminds me that this life is not ours. That we are called to serve him through every circumstance, every trial, every triumph. Why shouldn't I carry this cross? Since when was I told that suffering wouldn't have a place in my life? We should embrace it and get excited that we are able to participate in Christ's suffering. There is nothing but good that has come from her short life on earth.

Grieving is a very slow process. I am learning to trust again, but at the same time, I am still learning to accept that I have no idea what the future holds for me and my family. I still think about our daughter constantly and wonder what she'd be doing at this very moment if she were here with us. But I've stopped pinching myself, wondering when I'll wake up from this nightmare. I've stopped yelling at God, asking "why me?" A lot of wisdom has been gained...I no longer fool myself into thinking that I know what tomorrow will bring. Which is a marvelous thing really, because that leaves a lot more time for me to enjoy today.

1, 2, 3...

Toddlers just amaze me. I was always a little intimidated with the prospect of teaching a child how to read and count (and I want to homeschool? Hmm...), but it's actually a lot easier than I had imagined. A month or two ago, I drew a "W" and Jack pointed to it and said "double do, double do!" A couple of days later, I drew "W" again with chalk on the sidewalk. He said "Mmmmmm!" I then realized that he was sitting opposite me and was reading the letter upside down. I was just amazed!

Today, he woke me up (way too early, I might add). When Bernadette died, for some reason, he started using a pacifier at night. So, now he just loves his paci. This morning, he had one in his mouth, and he walked over to "the spot" in one of our kitchen cabinets (i.e. the place where we stash them when he's awake) and he said "One paci...want two pacis." He even put the "s" at the end of paci. I handed him a second paci. He said "Two pacis...want 3 pacis!" I was just blown away that he knew what "One, two, three" meant. I mean, how do kids know that numbers are for counting and not just words that go together in sequence? Crazy.

Jack's best bud, Ben, who is 26 months has this thing where he will count to 12 (usually skipping 6 or 7) and then scream "Blast Off!" and run as fast as he can to the opposite end of the yard with his arms shot out in front of him. I'm not sure if it's just a coincidence that children in this town (home to NASA) learn how to count by pretending to be rockets. But regardless, it's to die for. These kids are irresistible.