As Long as I'm Living, My Baby You'll Be...

Schools been out for almost 2 weeks now. And I've started out keeping fairly close to what I intended to do--make the most of each day. Be grateful. Choose joy. Loosen up my schedules and expectations. Be present with Molly. 

We've already made a visit to Ames while Josh was traveling for work to see family and visit with friends.  And then to Emmetsburg for Father's day weekend.

The three of us visited a local zoo, one we've been meaning to check out and finally decided to go...

And we've made it to the pool too, an activity Molly hopes is a daily thing.

I haven't made it to all my usual Y classes. I haven't been writing as much, on here or otherwise. I haven't texted/messaged/called my friends as often as I usually do (sorry all of you!). Even for Warrior Wagons I feel like I haven't done a whole lot "above and beyond" since Molly's been home.

But it's alright. I have 7 weeks before Molly starts school again at the elementary school in our neighborhood (this school runs on a modified schedule--45 days or 9 weeks on, 15 days or 3 weeks off throughout the year and it begins the last week in July). Which is why I am okay with taking a break from my usual routine. Knowing I'll get my time back soon enough, it's easier to soak up these summer days with my favorite girl.

But guess what doesn't take a break? Grief. The missing. It's another season transition, this time to summer. I've found these weeks as we move into a new season are always hard. And this one brings with it the typical triggers--festive activities and traditions special to this time of year that cause a yearning for the way things used to be.  Summer activities that leave us wishing he was still with us to enjoy this time of year too.

But after the first few days of summer pass, I can tell just how far I've come since last. I'm still carrying this grief, but instead of holding it close to my chest, clutched in my hands, it's more like tucked into a pack on my back. Its still heavy. I'm still very aware of its weight. It causes muscles to get fatigued and sore every now and then. But it also is easier to carry this way. Makes it so much easier to do things and play with Molly.

I can tell how much I've grown, but this year I also can tell how much everyone else has too, specifically, their kids. We see some families and kids during the summer that we don't see other times of the year since Molly's in school now. Familiar faces at school lunch, at the library, at the pool, and teacher friends' kids. Some of these little ones were Drew's peers, his same age.  And he was right there with them.

Last year they reminded me what I was missing--how a two year old boy acts. I saw them all and could almost see Drew right behind them.  It was just so hard to see what Drew could have been, what WE could have been. His memory was still fresh and relevant only 6 months out from his death. The void of his presence, was obvious.

But this summer, they've all grown up so much. They've all changed. Not just in size--but in actions, in abilities. Three to four year olds are so much different than two to three year olds. And I'm struggling to even imagine how Drew would compare--what he'd be saying/doing this summer at four. (four? It's just unbelievable.)

I'm learning what "forever two", a label that's been tossed around, really looks like in reality. What it feels like to have a son who never gets bigger, never develops further. Last year we weren't that far away from where we were. But this year, the gap is beginning to widen. Now, that memory of two year old Drew is aging--or rather, not aging. Frozen in time. Little siblings in families that used to be the babies are now the ones who are "Drew's age", and it makes me wince. My heart has hurt this week in a way that I haven't felt before. A deeper ache. Not so much a sharp, trigger-type pain, but one that seems to be pacing itself.  Because it knows, this is just the beginning....

These first couple weeks of summer I'm afraid I'm just getting a taste of the forever of this life. Sometime in the future all these kids that were "about Drew's age" will not just be four or five year olds, but big kids. Teenagers. And Drew will still be two in our minds. He'll be left behind, a relic of the past. A smile in a picture that will not get bigger like everyone else.  How difficult for a mother's heart to grasp...

This has been another turn in this journey of grief that I've struggled to "figure out". This post I've had a hard time finishing, finding a positive or comforting way to look at it. What can I tell myself that will take the sting out of seeing life go on without a part of my heart?

The best I've been able to do is remind myself that Drew's really not stuck anywhere. He's actually the free one! He's not back in the past, he's moving on from the life he lead almost 18 months ago now too. Drew is in 2018 with us, just in a different realm.

Forever two? Who knows how old he is. It's something Molly and I discuss a lot. And we end each discussion with, I guess we'll find out when we get there! But I can trust that whatever age, he's not left behind, certainly not. Yet, as long as I'm on this side of Heaven, he'll always be my little Drew, who never celebrated his third birthday.  Always my baby boy.

As I've been wrestling with these emotions this week and last, I happened to come across a book that perfectly depicts what's going on in my heart. With Molly working on reading now, we have books all over the house. And one night as my frozen-in-time-son was heavy on my mind, this particular book was right in front of me.

Now I never liked this book. It always made me cry. If' you're unfamiliar, it's about a mother and son. And as he "grew and grew and grew", the mother repeated the same song to him at night after he was asleep--"I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be"

Until finally it's the grown son's turn to sing it to her as she's old and her life is coming to an end.

Obviously, there's a few reasons why just the sight of this book brought me to tears even before I turned through the pages of the story. It touches on so many of the feelings I've felt in these first weeks of summer.  It reads differently, brings tears from a different place now than when I used to read it and cry before this great loss.  But I knew instantly from the first page why it spoke so strongly to me this week--the words to that little song of the mother's is exactly the song of my heart to my Drew.  And I'll be singing it to him until the day we're together again.

I'll love you forever Drewy, I'll like you for always. As long as I live, my baby you'll be...

Everyday Miracles

So apparently in the last five years, I've gotten behind on my personal health checkups. And once I did the eye exam--we all know how that turned out!--I decided to get the other ones caught up before school was out also. After tomorrow, in the last few weeks I've seen the ophthalmologist, dentist, dermatologist, gynecologist and done lab work to check my cholesterol levels. It's been a fun last couple weeks, let me tell you 😉 But all have been great so far, thankfully!

As I left the women's health appointment a couples weeks ago, I had to stop at the desk to schedule a blood draw for the cholesterol check. As the receptionist and I were finding a time, the nurse came to the desk and told her to reschedule my doctor's appointments for the rest of the morning, that she was just called for a delivery. The receptionist casually said okay, and we finished our business.

I thought about that though as I got on the elevator to go down to my van. Someone's going to be born today! Today is the first day of someone's life. Funny, it was just a normal day for me, but not to some mother that will get to hold her baby for the first time. Amazing. What a miracle! It got me thinking about the day my babies were born. The joy. The relief. The awe in those first special moments...

Last week was a hard one in our community. A family lost their mother to cancer, after a difficult battle. It was so heartbreaking to know that a 12, 10 and 8 year old will now go on without their mom, a husband without his wife. And a close friend lost her young nephew suddenly in an accident in a neighboring town. Right after the High School graduation party of the younger brother. A family was in one moment celebrating, and the next moment thrown into mourning.

In these last couple weeks, I've been reminded that life and death is happening all around us. But it seems only when it hits close to home, do most people really notice. For so many of us, its only when we can't avoid it that we pause and acknowledge the miracles and the tragedies that occur everyday in all of our towns and neighborhoods. Maybe it would serve us better to take note more often, and let them shape our mindsets...




When we were in Hawaii last winter, one of my favorite parts was watching the sunrise in Kauai. It was an event! The first day, we all got up and dressed and hurried! to catch the sun come up over the edge of the ocean.

And each day after that, it was the same-- "What time is it?? We better get moving or we'll miss it!" We'd scurry down, get a coffee in the lobby, and walk out onto the chairs on the beach and watch the Eastern sky. And it didn't disappoint. Even on the cloudy days, it was even prettier because there were more dimension in the colors as the rays hit the clouds from all angles.

After a day or two I finally looked around, in addition to looking forward at the rising sun. We weren't the only ones out eagerly watching this daily event. The sun had quite an audience every morning as it made it's way over the ocean.

On the other island, we were on the West side, so it was the sunsets that people including ourselves gathered to see. Taking pictures and selfies with the beautiful sun falling into the ocean.

As I looked around there too, I found it kind of humorous. How funny was this crazy scene of people gathering to spectate something that literally happens everywhere, everyday! It was almost ridiculous when I really thought about it, the sun rises and the sun sets in everyone's hometown, all over the world. Why were we all standing here acting like it's a miracle every morning and evening? Like we've never seen it before?

And I got it, it's breathtaking over a beach in Hawaii--I was standing there taking pictures too! I decided all of us staying at the resorts were on vacation. So we had the time, we were in a relaxed state of mind, to sit and enjoy the beauty in the rising and setting of the sun. We were unplugged enough to observe and appreciate the beauty in life, a rare occurrence in today's world.

I then wondered, wouldn't it be great if we all could have this reaction to sunrise at home? If we all woke up with the "don't want to miss it" eagerness about the start of the day on some random Tuesday in Minnesota? What if we all greeted each day like the gift it is, took the time to stop and appreciate the miracle of a new day starting or ending everyday?



Its something that Drew was so good at. And probably every little kid, really. Waking up, one of his first questions was about what we were going to do that day. "I go hospital today, Mom?" , "I go park today, Mom?"

He was so excited for life, no matter where our day was taking us. He wasn't worried about tomorrow, or upset about all that he endured last week. Just in the moment, living life. Trusting us that we'd take care of him, and everything would be okay. What an awesome attitude. I pray to have that trust in my Heavenly Father, and the eager attitude for life like he did. Which was similar to the excitement about the start of each day in Hawaii when I think about it.

Now I realize not every moment can be profound. Not all day can we walk around in this deep state of mind. That would get exhausting! But could we at least have one time in each day that we see through the haze? That we slow down for a minute and just live in the moment, take note and witness life--real life?? The wonders and the catastrophes?

What if each day we actually appreciated like it could be our last, or celebrated like it was our first? Would we overreact when someone offends us on Facebook? Would we not schedule our lives so much that we "don't have time" to do anything for ourselves or with our families? I think if we found this attitude, this awareness, there'd be a lot more kindness. A lot more thankfulness and joy.




It's the last couple days of school up here in Minnesota. I'm preparing to switch gears, getting ready to be full-time mom once again. For Molly and I to become, "Holly", or "Meidi (Mighty!)" if you prefer, as we're together so much I feel like we're one entity. Watch out Austin! 😉

So I'm writing all of this today as a reminder to myself as much as anything else. Don't take a day for granted Heidi, appreciate all that you are blessed with. Get up with an eagerness and appreciation of the gift that each day is. Be a witness of life, not just running from thing to thing, or waiting for 5:00. Look for that special moment in each day, and maybe I'll find more than one.

I know not every moment will be profound, or even pleasant possibly. But those Kairos moments I wrote about before will be mixed in there too if I'm paying attention. Maybe I won't catch the sunrise (as that happens at like 5AM around here these months), but I can get up a little earlier to have some time to myself to thank God for the miracle that each day is. And to ask Him to help me see through the haze to that big picture. To recognize the life and the death, beginnings and endings, that surrounds us all day if we choose to see it. From the start of the day, to the end.

Last week, there was a full rainbow across the sky above Austin. It was the brightest rainbow I think I've ever seen. Molly and Josh and I watched it for as long as we could still see all the colors. We called our neighbor, to make sure he didn't miss it. I saw many other photos of it from other people's angles and perspectives on Facebook and Instagram. It was a moment many did just what I'm talking about--standing still and looking around in awe. Not half an hour earlier, many were probably at their windows like we were, watching the wind whip the trees and the rain downpour. That evening many observed the furry and the beauty of life, to our amazement. Let's try to do that more!