Changes.....sometimes changes can be completely wonderful things. It seems though, like a lot of things, changes after losing a child can be pretty terrible. But they are inevitable, we go through changes throughout our life and we cannot stop them any more than we can stop the seasons from changing.
We worked extremely hard on the nursery for our first child. And it was so beautiful, and fun...and full of love. Some days I would just sit in the nursery rocking in the rocking chair holding the little stuffed fox John had picked out especially for the baby. I would rub my stomach and just dream of how wonderful our life was going to be in just a few short weeks.
In some ways it was easier that the nursery was set up for a baby girl and we had a baby boy. Not every part of the nursery reminded me of Kimber, but that didn't take the pain away, for 4 1/2 months after we lost Kimber the nursery just sat there. All the baby items were stored in there, evicted from their places of honor among the regular household furniture.
Occasionally we would go into the nursery to add things to Kimber's memory box. A metal box that holds our sweetest memories of Kimber: His blanket and fox he had in the hospital, the journal I wrote during my pregnancy, his birth certificate, his hand and feet prints, a lock of his hair, a toy John bought for him, and other sweet little memories. Next to it we have Kimber's bear that they gave us in the hospital and we took pictures with.
How does an enitre room of love and hope and dreams fit inside a tiny little dark closet?
I have gone back and forth over what to do with the nursery. Part of my heart really wanted it to just stay perfectly set up until we got pregnant again, but only God knows when that will be and it doesn't feel very good having a shrine to a hope that doesn't seem to have any validation .
So...we decided to pack up the nursery. It was a Monday, and I'll never forget the feelings that went through me when we made that decision. It's so hard to make changes with Kimber gone. Once again I feel like a bad mom for moving on without him. I know we aren't supposed to live like he is still here. It it still feels wrong to live like he isn't here anymore because he is such a huge part of my life. I know moving forward is a good thing, it's a necessary thing at some point, but sometimes moving on just sucks...just plain old sucks.
We started with the bedding set, the pink girly bedding set...and I felt completely fine until I pulled off the crib sheet and I just fell apart. I put that sheet on six months ago for our baby, I don't care that we thought he was going to be a girl. I still did it for him...just for him. We made him a home in our lives. He had books and toys and stuffed animals and cloth diapers and blankets and clothes and bibs and hats and a pack 'N' play and a bath and a swing and a stroller and a car seat and a high chair. All of those things were his, meant for him (despite some pink colors). He never got to use them.
And then we had to pack everything away into boxes and totes and put everything into the closet...it was a very hard experience.
Sometimes there are just no words to explain the deepest and hollowest parts of the heart. Sometimes the pain of one soul cannot be described to another soul. So I trust in the knowledge that The Lord knows my heart and my soul and He comforts me.
So, in a strong effort to not fall into bitterness as we pack up the nursery we decided to create a blessings Truffula tree. 
As we packed things away, and had particularly hard moments we wrote on a post-it what we were thankful for because of Kimber and stuck it on to the Truffula tree. Our sweet baby made his own little blue marks on his room, smack-dab in the middle of a bright pink Truffula tree.
It's definitely hard not to choose bitterness. Having to deal with sadness and pain is hard enough but then we have an ultimate decision on whether to trust God's plan and not become angry at Him or to drown ourselves in bitterness and fight against God's plan.
I cannot say that every time we will choose hope and joy and trust in God...I hope we do, and today that is what we have chosen.
A wonderful woman I've been corresponding with (who lost her son) wrote me a letter and mentioned how hard it is to thank God for taking our children but how good it is for us. Every since I read those words I have been struggling with thanking God for taking Kimber. I have accepted that his death was a part of God's plan for us and that God has a reason that my son was never able to take a breath. I trust that God's plan is for our good and that we are blessed. But how could I thank God that my son is dead? What kind of mother does that make me? How could I thank Him that I was never able to see the color of Kimber's eyes, never hear him cry, or laugh, never see him reach for me or crawl or walk? How could I say "Thank you God, for taking my son"? How does a mother do that?
After about a week of struggling I talked to John about it and asked him to pray for me and to help me. He is such a wonderful man, he is always a step ahead of me in trusting in God and being faithful, he leads me to where I know God wants us. I know, I felt in my heart, that God was calling to me to Him, asking me to take this next step of surrendering to Him.
Finally, after a few more days, as we were saying our nightly prayers together I squeezed John's hand tightly and drew strength from him and I said it..."Thank you God for taking Kimber". Its not just saying it, it's a decision, a choice. Every day I choose again to trust in God and in His plan for us and every day I thank God for taking my son....
Our life continues to change so we must continue to build our foundation on the One who is steadfast and sure.
Thank God that he is alive. Kimber is more alive up in heaven than he would be here on Earth. It is hard as a mother to think that your child will grow without you. I like to think that in heaven babies stay babies till they meet their mommies and daddies. Because so little is written about heaven that you will have to go there to know what it is like you can only imagine what it is like.
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