Counting

We were all sitting around in my brother's house in Dallas. His oldest daughter's birthday party had brought both sets of grandparents together. I hadn't seen my sister in laws parents in years. All my kids were playing with their Dallas cousins. My father and I sat with my sister in law's father, Bob, at the table. Harrison was on my lap.

Bob looked around the room and began to count, "One, two, three, four, five. So you have five children?"

I paused...

Just after Camille died the matter of how to answer this everyday question weighed heavily on my heart. It tore me up inside thinking about it. Initially I determined that I would ALWAYS include Camille. She counts. I bore her, nursed her, changed all those diapers. She is my child. She counts.

I reasoned, "My grandmother had two daughters pass away before she did. My two aunts were both grandmothers before they died. I would never think to say my grandmother only had 4 children. She had 6 and 2 had since passed away. My child shouldn't count any less just because her life was shorter. I would count her."

And that is what I did. Occasionally, however people would see me with my kids and assume how many children I had, like Bob was now. Sometimes I corrected them. Sometimes not. I found it is not fun to deliver the heart wrenching news of your child's death to a stranger in passing conversation.

So as time passed I stopped correcting every person. Still every time the subject arrises about how many kids I have, there is a pause in which all of this goes through my mind and I decide how to answer.

And so in my brother's kitchen I begin to nod my head in a sort of affirmation and resignation. Then, in the spilt second pause it takes me to process this all and decide how to answer, my dad interrupts. "No. She has 6 children. She had a little girl who passed away."

Even now ... writing this ... a lump forms in my throat. She counts. He counts her. My dad is not letting her be forgotten. He counts her ... even when he has to correct someone.

That night in my bed, tears rolled down my cheeks. They were tears of love and gratitude to my dad. I don't know if he can ever fully know how much it meant and means to me that he doesn't let her go uncounted. It is one thing for me to remember her and count her. But to have others, outside our little family, continue to count her mean so very much to me.

On our plane ride home our steward took an interest in our family all lined up in our row of the airplane. He looked across the row and said, "So you have five kids huh?" With confidence I said, "No, actually. I have six."

What I Am Missing

Sometimes my mind leaves the here and now and wanders to the dangerous land of Couldabeen. In this place I see all the things I am missing. Walking through children's clothing stores I see the adorable little girl clothes. My mind instantly misses the little baby girl I could have been dressing in those clothes. My other girls are all shopping in the big girl section now.

Milestones are particularly difficult. An inner voice whispers to my soul, she would have been 4 and saying those funny things and doing those adorable tricks. She would be starting Kindergarten next year. She would be Lauren's buddy.

I see kids her age. I watch them and feel sorrow that my little girl isn't able to learn and grow and experience all they are experiencing. I am sorry for her and for me not being able to experience these milestones of life with her.

I had such a moment the other day. But this time, in the quiet sorrow in my soul that followed the thought of pity at her missing out, there came a feeling. It was a feeling of thrilling joy and exhilaration, but not my own. It was her joy. I could sense it like you can feel the energy off of someone who is really excited about some thing. It was the same sense of joy I had from her the when she finally passed away. She was happy.

And the thought came to my mind,
"Oh, Mom, if only you could see
the things I am doing now..."

And with that my sorrow fled.
I realized I am not missing what she would have been.
If anything, I am missing all she has become.

Happy

As parents, one of the things we desire is that our children be happy. We do all we can as we raise them to teach them how to live in such a way that they will find happiness in this life. We teach them not to be mean so they will have friends ... so they will be happy. We feed them and clothe them and give them their needs and many of their wants ... so they will be happy. We try to protect them from harms and accidents ... so they will stay happy.

Granted that sometimes we have to do things that make them unhappy (like give them medicine or discipline them or make them clean things etc.) But even things things that cause temporary unhappiness are attempts to increase the chances of greater long term happiness for them.

I too want happiness for my children. Last night after I wrote my post, I went up to bed. I knelt down to say my prayers and during my prayers I had a faint but distinct impression. It was of Camille's happiness. I had the impression that she was happy - deeply and fully happy.

Many, many years ago I had a miscarriage with my very first pregnancy. I had been bleeding for almost a week when I had an impression that the baby that was going to come to our family was a very happy spirit. I felt that if she were happy even though she would have to wait longer to come to Earth, why should I be sad? That miscarriage was not sad for me after that. I knew there was a very happy spirit waiting to come to our home and if she was happy to wait, I should be happy to wait for her. And I was. What a happy blessing Sabrina was to wait for.

So last night when I had that impression of Camille's happiness, I had that same question come to my mind. If she is happy waiting, why should I be sad? She is not only happy, she is out of all danger. There is no worry that she will ever be hurt - no worry that she will be ever screw up her life, no worry that she will ever be ... unhappy.

And so I decided to be happy for her happiness. And ... I am.

3 Years

June 13 today. Three years ago I enjoyed the last morning and early afternoon I would have with all four of my little girls. I remember Camille waking up unconsolably sad. She kept crying and screaming and it seemed nothing I did would soothe her. This was atypical for her. It worried me. I wondered if she might be in pain or sick.

Finally in desperation I gave her a sugar cookie with pink frosting. It was not the best breakfast in the world, I admit, but it made her happy. I was glad to have found something that would stop her worrisome cry. The rest of the day she was her normal self.

Later that morning she snuck into the pantry and climbed the step stool. She called and called for me. I finally got a minute to stick my head in and see what she was up to. She was so proud of herself. She looked at me with her big smile and stamped her foot down on the top step where she stood. I called to Jonathan. He came over to see. I said "that is our little girl right there Jonathan." She was so delighted to have us there noticing her big accomplishment.

I made homemade macaroni and cheese for the kids. She loved it. I put her in her high chair to eat some while I went to chase Lauren down to change her stinky diaper.

Minutes later my whole world came crashing down and my life and my family changed forever.

Three years later, I am so grateful that it is three years later. I am so grateful that I am not hurting as badly as I was three years ago. Does it still hurt? Yes. yes. But it is not the searing debilitating pain that it was three years ago.

I am so grateful for the joyful ways my life has changed in the past three years. I am grateful for my two sons who have been added to my family. I am grateful for the wonderful ways my girls have grown and developed as people. I am so very grateful for the deeper, richer, and even more purposeful relationship I have with my husband. There is not doubt to either of us that we are stronger as a couple now because of this trial.

I am grateful for the acute appreciation losing Camille has given me for each of my children. I truly do appreciate them every minute. Even when Noble is tired and on a path of destruction through the house or the older girls are being disobedient or fighting or sick or otherwise being naughty. Even when I am up at night with Harrison so many times I have lost count or I am being thrown up on, yelled at, hit, or pooped on. Even in those less than lovely moments of motherhood, I appreciate and value and thank God for my children and that I am privileged to be their mother.

I have been riding waves of emotion this weekend. My heart is feeling the high tide of the season. I haven't yet had a big cry but I have felt one building. It is like those days when you can feel the storm in the air but no rain has fallen yet. I will let it come when it does. It will come and it will go and I will move forward into yet another year in my life as an angel's mother.

Camille's 4th Birthday

We had a great day as a family on April 19th. I decided to do one extra nice thing for each of my children. I held my baby a little extra. I got up with Noble at 6 am when normally I would have sent him down to play with Annie and his dad in the morning so I could get a little more sleep. I snuggled Lauren in the morning. We got Winchell's Donuts which Annie has been begging to try for months. And I let Sabrina have a friend over for the afternoon and evening.

Las Vegas Temple taken by Sabrina

We also did service up at the temple and I tried really hard to greet the people I met with Christ like love pouring out of me and my eyes and in my smile. It was an amazing experience to focus so fully on loving each person I met that day. I tried to imagine how their loved ones in heaven would feel to see them again and tried to love them in that way.

My children in the atrium of the Las Vegas Temple

And we took the family up to the temple to experience the grounds there before Jon and I did our work inside. The girls really enjoyed the atrium and the beautiful grounds and the peaceful, loving spirit you can so easily feel there. We met a nice family from out of town who took our family photo for us.

We made a birthday cake and had Camille's favorite foods. My mom gave us a pinata to help our birthday celebration. It was so fun. My neighbors sent us some tulips that made our birthday feel so complete.

And perhaps my favorite part of the day and the time since then is reading the comments on my last post about what acts of kindness people did in honor of Camille. Really I just can't tell you how healing it is to my heart to know that the world is just even a little better place, even if only for one day a year, because my little Camille lived in it. That is the best gift I could ever be given. And so I say THANK YOU. To all of you who tried a little harder and did a little more to make the world a little better place with your acts of kindness. Thank you!

Cami's Kindness Day - April 19th

Tomorrow is Camille's birthday. She would have been four. Four is the age I first throw a birthday party for my children. I have them invite a handful of their little friends over and we play games including pin the party hat on the princess. (I draw a life size picture of the girl by tracing her on the floor for this and we have kept them so they can see how little they once were.) And they get presents. Presents from family like they did the first 3 years and on this 4th birthday they get presents from friends too.

So if you have read this blog or if you know me or ever met my little angel girl, please consider yourself invited to her 4th birthday anniversary "party." Where ever you live, I hope you will have a piece of cake or a cupcake tomorrow.

But more importantly, I hope you will find it in your heart to give my little angel a present by performing an act of kindness above and beyond what you would normally do tomorrow.

I would LOVE to hear what you did. If you have time to write a comment and let me know that would be such a gift to me as I celebrate her birthday with my family.

We will be headed to the Las Vegas Temple to remind us how grateful we are that families can be sealed together forever. I am so grateful for the promises of the Lord given our family in the Holy Temple that my neither my marriage nor my parental relationships will be dissolved at death for certainly the love is not. It would only truly be heaven to me if those loving relationships could continue there as well.

Lost and Found

Today I went looking for some little prizes I had left over from one of our block parties. I needed them to create a little gift for a Secret Santa family. I knew they were in the closet under our stairs. I had seen them when I cleaned it out just a few weeks ago.

I didn't find them. I hate losing things. Some things I lose are no big deal - like these little prizes. They are just an annoyance. Other things we lose are kind of a bigger deal but with enough money they can be replaced - like Jon's keys to our car. Then there are some losses that can never be replaced and they just eat at you over the years.

As I was searching for those prizes I looked in a storage container with some odds and ends in it. Inside I found what I would like to think of as Camille's birthday/Christmas present to me, to Jon, and to our little family. I saw a mini DV tape with the title "Camille's birth" on it. I have been missing it since we moved into this house almost 3 years ago.

After she died I searched high and low for it. I knew it existed because I had written about it in my journaling of her birth. But for all my grief stricken searching I couldn't find it. How many times since then have I seen a mini DV tape and wondered where THAT tape was?

I called the girls together and plugged the tape in to the machine to play it on the TV. It is an hour long of her first 8 months on this earth. It has her first and only Christmas. It has lots of time with Jon just taping her newborn noises and her learning to roll. It also has adorable footage of the older girls. It has Lauren's 2nd birthday and Sabrina's kindergarten graduation and first piano recital. It has Annie at just barely 4 years old welcoming her baby sister Camille into the world, being the first to hold her hand and stroke her head.

She was so beautiful and perfect. One of the first scenes after her birth was of me holding her and dressing her at 2 weeks old. It was just me and her and Jon taping. I told of how everywhere we went everyone wanted to hold her. Now I know people love newborns and want to hold them. But this was different. Everywhere she went with me people ... strangers ... asked me if they could hold her - my 2 week old.  And I let them. She loved people. She was so happy to be out and about with other people to look at and explore.

In the tape I said, "our beautiful little Camille. She is our family's ambassador to the world." How prophetic this statement turned out to be. And she still is. I am overcome ... with joy at finding this tape ... with sorrow missing her ... with gratitude for this most precious "gift" of a find. I am simply undone.

Never Far

Today I got some photos I ordered for a school project for Lauren from Costco. This picture was in the bunch. Jon handed it to me and said, "That's my girl." I took it and looked at it. I still want to just jump back into that picture and grab her and hug her. 

It has been 2 years and almost 4 months. The world, and life has moved forward. I am fairly certain that Camille is not the first thing people think about now when they see me. I am happy for that. And my life is progressing. I don't cry about Camille every day or every week or even every month. Perhaps part of that is because I just don't talk about her (and especially about her passing) as often anymore. That is bitter sweet. I wish I had stories to tell about her and could include her in telling people the fun things my kids are doing. But I don't miss all the crying and I still can't talk much about her passing without crying. 

But the reality is that she is never far away. I think about her everyday - several times a day- and not usually in a sad and weepy sort of way. I just think of her. I wonder what she is doing. I wonder what she looks like as an angel. I wonder what it would be like to see her. I hold Noble and love his little body twice over for her. I insist on double kisses from him. I wonder if he still remembers her. And every night as I lay in my bed waiting to fall asleep I think of her again, and I try to avoid thinking of the fateful day she left our home. 

I write this because I want this to be a true record of where I am on this journey. Time has dulled the sharp intensity of the pain and longing for me. But it has not erased the desire and she is still in my heart and in my mind every single day.

Holding Him, Holding Her, Holding Me

Tonight Noble fell and bumped his head on the tile. It wasn't a very bad bonk. He kept his head up enough to cushion the blow. But it scared him and he wanted his mom to hold him afterward. So I picked him up and after his initial cries he settled down. But he still just wanted me to hold him. I was ever so happy to oblige. 

I sat on our green rocking chair. Someone had taken Noble's clothes off after dinner so he was only wearing a diaper. I sat rocking on the chair with him sitting in my lap facing me. He laid his head down on my chest and I sat with my arms around him rocking his little body.

He is so white. His skin is like my husbands. There is no "olive undertone" there. It is just as fair as can be. I laid my cheek down on his soft hair. He was totally still except I could feel him breathing.

And I was taken back to holding her, that last time, when she stopped breathing in my arms. She was the same size and felt the same weight. Her skin was so white and soft against mine. And she was totally still. And I felt the last breaths go out of her.

Noble has been so healing for me in so many ways. But there are moments like this when he takes me back to another time and another child and my heart lives again some other life that was. Perhaps there is healing in the reliving as well. Perhaps we must learn to sip from the cup of our bitter memories to truly say we have become accustomed to their taste in our mouth. Or perhaps it is tasting them again that helps us see how far we have come.

I looked at the pictures my sister-in-law Elizabeth took in that moment when I last held her. It was so like my moment today only so filled with pain and sorrow instead of the sweetness and joy of today. I marveled as I looked at myself in that image. How did I do that? How am I still here? How did I ever let anyone take her out of my arms? How did I get up and use my legs again?

People talk about miracles where loved ones are healed and the sick are made well. Looking at that picture tonight I could see that there was a miracle happening in that room and in that very frame. I had prayed so hard for a miracle for her but the Lord intended to show His miracle by helping me. How else could I have kept breathing when she stopped? And how else could I be where I am today - feeling whole and peaceful and hopeful and joyful despite my bitter cup. Yes there was a miracle happening. But it has taken time to see and realize that all the while He has been holding Me.

Approaching the 2-year Mark

Me and Camille June 6, 2008

Summer is sneaking up on me once again. Plans are being made. Vacations are coming up. And the 2 year mark is just weeks away. I am glad to have another year under my belt. Most of the time I feel pretty happy and positive these days. I have learned that it is easier to not get too down by going to bed early. Nights ... they are just hard. I think I am more prone to depressing thoughts at night when I am tired.

I still think about Camille every day. But I don't always think of her in sad ways. Now many days I don't feel great sorrow. I think of her dearly and with a sensitive heart but not necessarily a sad heart. I still have occasional days when I just really miss her and miss the place she would have filled in our little family. But I am becoming accustomed to the idea and reality of my new family -- the one with the gap in the middle.

Then

Now

Today I had a sweet dream that made me feel so sure that all is as it should be and that Camille is well. I feel a strong connection to Camille and in so many ways she still plays such a big role in our little family. She makes so many aspects of reading the scriptures more relatable to my children. I can especially feel her close when we are following the whisperings of the Spirit (you know those gentle --"hmm it might be a good idea if you did this" feelings of the heart?) in how to run our home. We recently had a series of those "whisperings" that have prompted some changes around our home. I will share those soon. I want to give them a while to see if I can keep them up first. So far the results have been dramatic to me.

I have a few other things I want to post about but today I was looking over my blog and realized it had been a long time since I had a photo of my baby girl up here. I just wanted to see a few up here today.

We love you Camille. 

Thank you for continuing to bless your family even from beyond the veil of death.

Perspective

This is my world right now--zoomed in close, agonizing over the details. The details--be they beautiful or boring, painful or pleasant--the details are our everything. We wake in the morning with them staring us in the face and we lay our heads on our pillows at night either basking in their fullness or formulating how to survive or change them. I have heard Oprah say "love is in the details."  And so it is.  Perhaps that is why the details, the moments of life that you never forget and that form your very being, consume our constant focus. They are crucial.

There is beauty in the details--even the painful ones. It is a beauty born of love. Like mental photographs the details tell a story. These stories form the epic that is our lives. Even these epic stories of our lives are just the details, the footnotes even, in the history books of mankind. One can only imagine how our histories fit into the great scheme of the Creator's works.

Details produce the defining points of our lives.  This is one of the great defining points in my life. I write the story that will define me by how I endure the trials I face.  These are not easy days.  This story is difficult to forge.  But I believe that if I am careful and I can keep a firm mind and a heart full of love, even if it is an aching love, a thing a great beauty will emerge from these details.

Whatever our trials are in life, the gospel gives us the gift of perspective to guide us in our sorrow and affliction.  In the grand scheme of my life, this will be but a chapter.  It is hard for me to imagine a day I don't think about Camille with every breath, but I know in my head that will come. Part of me is terrified for that day to come. The better part of me refuses to live forever in this chapter. This chapter will form the rest of my story, but I hope that by the 500th page of my 1000 page life I am not still mourning the event of this too early, too sorrowful chapter of my life.

I can only hope the pain of this detail will make all the colors brighter, all the laughter heartier, all the love deeper, all the moments sweeter.  I can only hope that this defining detail will significantly impact the whole of the eternal perspective of my life for the positive. That by enduring well the Lord can make of my life a work of art.

Calling All Angels

This is the photo we choose to be on Camille's grave.  Man I miss that little face, that sweet smile, her laugh, her kisses, the way she loved to tuck her head under my chin, the little bit of chunk on her thigh that I used to pat, the annoying half scream half yell she would let out when she was frustrated. I miss it all. I just miss her. 

My sister in law Elizabeth shared this song with me. It is by Jessie Clark Funk. It pretty much hit the spot.  I put it to a video/slideshow. Give it a listen.

Created Equal

Today we celebrate the Declaration of Independence.  In 1776, Thomas Jefferson, wrote a now famous document boldly declaring that it was a self-evident truth that all men are created equal. This was an inspired statement.  All of us on this earth are children of our Heavenly Father.  We are all equally loved by Him and equally watched over.  We all have equal rights to choose our beliefs and how we will react to the circumstances we face.  We all have equal opportunity to seek Him out and find Him and feel Him in our lives.  We are all brothers and sisters.

Brothers and Sisters--I have three brothers and one sister.  I LOVE my brothers.  But today I want to focus on my sisters.  Growing up, I lived across the street from a family of 7 girls. I always wished I had more sisters in my life.  I idolized my older sister but with a five year age gap, we did not get along very well growing up and she was off to college when I was in middle school.  I wanted more sisters.

This experience has given me a greater appreciation, a greater and renewed love, and deep soul linking bond with my one sister Lesli.  She has been a rock of literal strength for me through this.  I was pretty much a puddle on the ground at the hospital that first day.  I think the whole hospital could hear my grief.  My sister dropped everything (which was a night away with her husband at the Ritz) and came to me as soon as she heard.  She arrived that night and walked into the consolation room where I was sitting with my head buried in my hands.

I don't really understand the physics of what happened next.  She stood in front of me and put her hands on my shoulders.  She was bent over like I was and we both had our heads down.  As she did this, a power flowed through my body, a strength.  It was a physical sensation.  It was as if her strength of being came into me.  My sister is a very strong woman.  I have never been so grateful for that attribute of her as I was at that moment.  There was no judgement or mental analyzing. No this was the strength of a sister's Love. And it was powerful beyond description.   

My sister Lesli and I in my backyard a few days after Camille died.

I look at my family now thinking of those days wishing I had more sisters, and feel so blessed. When I got married I gained 6 new sisters.  Jon has four sisters and four brothers.  Two of his brothers are married.  The beauty of this is that I love, yes I mean love, all of these women. They are beautiful, talented women. I feel so blessed to have so many wonderful sisters in the Waite family.  How convenient that they have such an incredible, handsome, worthy, and humorous brother for me to love and marry.

The Waite Family at Camille's grave.

Shortly after Jon and I got married, 3 of my other siblings got married.  Then last October my youngest brother got married too, completing our generation's family circle.  This gives me three more sister in laws on my side of the family. Again the beauty in this is that my brother's all made awesome choices in selecting their mates.  All three of my sister in laws are about 3 years younger than me.  I am close to each of them.  They are some of my best friends and they are my sisters.

The Harris Family at Camille's Graveside.

But I have been blessed with more sisters in my family than just this.  Like I said, we are all brothers and sisters.  We are all created equal.  I have four daughters. I am their mother but they are also my sisters. I have been very aware of this fact from the moment I arrived at the hospital. I knew Camille was there but she was not in that little baby body on the bed.  She was there as a spirit and her spirit was not a baby.  I felt her as a fully mature adult woman. I felt her as my sister. I felt her as my friend. I felt her as a pure, clean, glorious example of what I want to become.

I look forward to the day when I can be with her again as a sister, a daughter, a friend, an equal.

I love you Camille!

Scattered Thoughts On A Day of Low to High

Ups and Downs.  My life feels so full of them right now.  I started the day with a solid 5 minutes of breaking down in sorrow in my closet.  I let the grief flow through me, crying audibly in my solitude.  After about 5 minutes, not nearly enough time to fully release my sorrow, I forced myself to dry my eyes, put on my clothes and go get Sabrina ready for school.  

We read scriptures, said prayers, ate breakfast and got ready for school.  Once Sabrina was off, and after a few other morning tasks, I headed to my mother's to see my brother and his wife who were passing though town on the way to the cabin.  

Driving is hard for me these days.  In the car it is quiet.  Too quiet.  There are few distractions to keep my mind occupied.  In the car, I think.  Lately that can be a dangerous past time.  I didn't get far before the thoughts turned to tears.  Luckily, my car is well stocked with Kleenex. (I think I should have Jon invest in that stock.)  

I managed to pull myself back together by the time we arrived at my mothers.  It is easier to be cheerful with my family around.  

I took Nikki, my sister in law, with me to the funeral home to pick out the name place details for Camille's grave.  I am still deciding which picture to use.  I made it through that pretty well. Next a family friend came to talk about helping my kids through the grief process, she is a counselor with LDS family services.  Pretty much cried when I talked through that.  I have been worried about my kids.

I did another errand with my dad after that and then was glad to be headed back home.  I still feel best at home.  It is where she was the most.  My mom's is not too bad since we lived there with Camille for the first 8 months of her life.  I feel most safe in places with which she was most familiar.  I don't know why that is.  I just feel her presence stronger in those places.

I came home to find that Jon had had an equally hard day.  We let our tears flow together for a few minutes and then the duties of the day called us back.  We had Sabrina's former first grade teacher over for dinner.  It was a fun visit for all of us.

After she left the neighbors came over and Jon and I took the two oldest girls (Lauren was already in bed asleep) outside to let them swim for a bit.  This was the first time we have been in the hot tub since the accident.  

One of my biggest fears early in this ordeal was about how this experience would change me.  I did not want to be that mother who is scared to let her kids live for fear of losing them.  But how can I not be that mother now that I have lost one?  I believe the answer is in careful determination.  I have been trying hard to force myself not to deny my children fun experiences while at the same time being doggedly cautious and watchful of them.  We have been swimming a few times now since the accident and I am surprised that it has not been harder for me.  Even the memory of finding her is fading slowly into the recesses of my mind.  

The kids had a great time and after we got the kids out and ready for bed.  We ended our day on a spiritual high.  A friend of mine, Catherine, had her father in town visiting.  Her father is Elder Whitney Clayton of the Presidency of the Seventy in our church.  He came to our home and visited with us and gave Jon and I and our two oldest daughters priesthood blessings.  

This day started so low and ended so high.  I know the Lord knows my family.  Elder Clayton does not know us but the blessings he gave were from One who does.  I particularly needed mine.  There were so many things he told me that I needed to hear and that only God could have known I needed to hear.

How grateful I am to have the priesthood restored on the earth today.  It is a blessing beyond measure in my life. I know the Lord put so many people in my life right now to help me through this and I have no doubt that my good friend Catherine is one of them.  Thank you to her and her family for letting their dad come spend a bit of time here with us to bless us.

Invested

My husband manages money.  He runs a hedge fund.  Jon runs his own shop with no vacation days or sick days.  He works from home.  He has been building this hedge fund for just over two years.  Before that he worked for an investment bank as a stock analyst. This job required lots of traveling.  My kids thought he worked on an airplane.  I often felt like a single mom.

When we prayed about whether to start the hedge fund, we felt that it would be VERY difficult. But we chose to do it because we wanted time with our Dado.  It has been hard.  It has been the most stressful job Jon has ever had.  He has done very well and we have been incredibly blessed in his business.  

Now, however, I can't help but be incredibly grateful to the Lord for inspiring us to do this so that Jon could be home with us so much.  Jon works a lot of hours, but because he is at home, he also gets to see so much of his girls.  They love their dado.  They love to visit him in his office.

On his stressful days, nothing could put a bright ray of sun in Jon's office like me putting Camille's head into his office and then pulling her out.  She would laugh and scream at this game of peek a boo.  

Investing sometimes takes patience and faith. It always involves sacrifice. You give up your money now and forgo using it on a thing or experience and put it away.  You invest it.  And you hope that by putting it away for later it will increase and grow and later you will be able to do more with it than you could have done using it today.  You give up something good now for something better later.  That is one definition of sacrificing.  Sacrificing is essentially investing.

I feel very invested now.  Invested in heaven. Invested in Camille.  It will take patience and faith but I know in the end I will get even more out of my experience as her mother later than I would now. Surly there is no safer investment than putting your assets with the Lord. This is the bright hope to which I cling--that when I am able to raise her I will be able to give her all the love and attention and affection that I am now longing to give her in her absence.  Here she had to share my attention with siblings and mundane stresses.  Later she will have the full attention of a host of loved ones all wanting to hold her and be with her.  Jon and I will be foremost among them, followed closely by her sisters. She will be showered with more love and attention than we could humanly give her at this time. And the pain we feel now will only make that time all the sweeter.

Hope. Faith. Patience.

We have laid our treasure up for more enjoyment on a later day.  

We are invested.  

I am invested.

Inside the Heart

One of the tulips at Camille's funeral.  It looks a little heart shaped don't you think?

"Oh Honey, I can't believe it has been more than a year since you have come for a massage," my mother-in-law's massage therapist says to me as I arrive for the massage she set up as a treat for me.  "Yes," I say.  Sometimes, when my emotions are close to the surface I find it easier to say as little as possible.

"Well we are going to have some work to do on you then," she says as we enter the massage room.  "So tell me, does it hurt anywhere or are you just here for relaxation?"

A simple daily question.  "Does it hurt anywhere?"  My insides scream "YES!  It hurts everywhere.  Especially this gaping whole in the middle of me where Camille is supposed to be clinging to me.  Is there a reflexology spot that will alleviate that pain?"  I pause taking a more physical assessment. 

"No, I am just here to ... relax," I conclude.  Relax.  Yes that word seems a bit foreign to me lately.  Pleasure ... Enjoyment ... Relaxation.  I am going to have to relearn to be friends with these words.  I am working on that.  I know Camille didn't want those things to leave me when she left.  I am working on it for her and for my family.  It is coming ... slowly.

I strip down and get under the sheet.  The music is soothing.  My massage therapist returns to the room and warms her hands and begins her rub down.  I am lying on my back and she is working on my head and face.  

"Does it hurt anywhere?" Her question echos in my mind.  I swing between ironic inner laughter and deep searing pain in response to each echo.  I struggle to keep my emotions in check.  She obviously knows nothing of the recent events in my life.

Her warm hands apply pressure to my forehead as two traitorous tears escape my stronghold and role slowly down my face as she massages and warms.  I consider telling her to excuse my emotions as I am prone to cry when I am relaxed lately.  As I consider this I feel the weight of the burden of my sorrow heavy on my chest.  It is too large a burden to pass casually to an unsuspecting stranger.  I keep my mouth closed determined not to allow anymore escapees.

"I see you are hydrating well.  What are you doing for exercise?" she asks.  

"Pilates," I reply. "Hydrating well," I think. "I guess that is one way to put it.  I am certainly producing plenty of hydration."  

I think of my older brother filling me a glass of water the week before and asking me if I was hydrating well.  "At least 4 big cups of water a day," he told me handing me a full glass.  He was worried about me.  So was I.  I took the water glad for the reminder to drink.  

Back in the massage room I think "you need to do better at that Stephanie.  With all the water going out you need to put more in."     

The massage continues and again I hear the echo, "does it hurt anywhere?"  I do another assessment.  There is not a single pain in my body.  I barely feel the pleasure of the massage. The storm of my emotions has receded and I feel the anesthetic numbness God provides us in times of shock.  It is a respite from the storm of emotions I deal with when I am faced with the reality of my loss.  

I await the sweet peace of acceptance in humility that follows these cycles. It always comes after the numbness.  In the numbness, I am able to gather my strength and seek the Lord.  In this almost out of body state, I feel the ministering of nearby angels and drink deeply from their wells of strength. I "hydrate." Then I am more able to reenter reality with an eternal perspective of acceptance and even joy.

Yes, joy.  Joy that I have children.  Joy that I was blessed to be Camille's mother.  Joy that I have a daughter working on our behalves beyond the veil.  Joy to know what good company she is in with wonderful ancestors.  Joy in the gospel of Jesus Christ.  

A Lasting Change

Lauren, my "lily," holding her flower from the Camille's casket spray

Today was my first morning not waking up thinking about Camille.  That is probably because I woke up to my husband telling me that I was needed to change Lauren's poopy underwear.  Somehow this takes precedence over grief in the human psyche.  It was a full 10 minutes before I thought of Camille.  

This kind of reminded me of 9/11.  I remember waking to my husband's phone call telling me that he was on his way home from work and to go turn on the TV.  Sabrina was 3 months old at the time.  I sat in front of the TV with her in my arms, my jaw open, tears streaming down my face.  I thought of all those mothers and fathers, wives and husbands, sons and daughters that went to work that day and just were not coming home.  Then, Sabrina made a mess in her diaper.  Here these people were dying as I was watching and I had to change a dirty diaper.  Dirty diapers do not stop just because tragedy occurs.  

I remember after 9/11 how close I felt to my neighbors.  How invested I felt in our nation.  It didn't matter what political party you were or where you stood on Health Care or Abortion.  We were truly ONE Nation.  There were flags everywhere.  People talked to each other more in the grocery store and on the street.  I loved that feeling and wished it would stay.  But human nature won out and here we are 7 years later divided again.

This tragedy in our family has had that same unifying effect.  My family, in particular, feels more unified that we ever have before. (I think the Waite family already felt unified).  We Harris crew, on the other hand, are a family of strong personalities and differing opinions and points of view.  We are not afraid to voice them.  We are also a family of deep emotions.  Many times our emotions run so deep we avoid facing them afraid of losing it.  In this situation, I did not know how my siblings would react. 

React they did.  They all dropped what they were doing and came to my side.  Within 24 hours all my siblings and all their spouses except one in Texas and all the local Waite family were gathered in our hospital room.  My siblings surrounded me in love and strength and faith. Bridges I thought had been burned were suddenly anchors of strength.  That unity has continued still.  

My sister giving me support at the graveside.

I felt an outpouring of love and unity in my church congregation.  I have felt that unity of love from the comments on this blog.  I have felt a greater sense of peace and purpose in our little family.  I have felt an increased love for all people.  I have a greater sensitivity to how we treat our fellow human beings. It has been a wonderful byproduct of terribly difficult time.  I want this to be a lasting change.  

I know our little family has experienced a lasting change.  Camille's absence is a daily reminder of this change.  I know I will be forever different.  But I want to keep the feeling of love I feel for all mankind in my heart.  I don't want to let the dirty diapers of life to distract me from my true purpose.  I want to keep the fires of love burning bright between my family members and friends.  I want the change everyone feels as they enter this bubble of my world right now to be lasting.  I don't want the bubble to pop but I also want to LIVE in the real world and be present and alive for my children and for Camille's sake.  

My brother rubbing my back.  

Me running my fingers through Lauren's hair

Oh remember remember ... 

Remember and Feel the Chain of Love

A New Reason

I love this picture.  I have a flower in my mind that reminds me of each of my girls.  They each know their flower and why it reminds me of them.  Camille's flower is the tulip.  It is delicate and beautiful and it grows to the light in its own beautiful way.  My sister in law Elizabeth took this photo of a giant vase of tulips that her parents, who are serving as mission presidents in Africa, sent to the funeral.  It is peaceful looking and the drop of water on the stem almost looks like a tear.  It makes me remember the peace inside me, despite the tears.

Today, we went to church.  It was a harder day for me.  I just woke up missing Camille.  Then I had some pretty important talks with our kids about the Lord and His plan for us.  Next we were off to church.  Church was good but I was still just missing wrestling my baby.  Never thought I would miss wresting my nap deprived baby.  But it was good to go.  

I have no doubt most who have read this blog know I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  I am devout in my faith.  I had an experience when I was 14 studying my faith for a year and praying to have an answer from God about whether or not this faith my parents had taught me about was real and true.  I got a physical and profound answer that it was in fact true and the Joseph Smith really saw God the Father and Jesus Christ in answer to his prayer to find the true religion.  Since that day, I have tried very hard to live my religion.  I have made my share of mistakes, but my faith has never wavered.  I have found answers when I have needed them.  I have found peace in stormy trials.  I haven't always liked the roads the Lord has led me to travel. But I have traveled them in faith, KNOWING the Lord knew me and loved me and would not allow me to feel any pain that was not necessary for my salvation.  I have had some pretty low points where I didn't understand why the Lord would lead me down a painful and unproductive path.  But I never have doubted that He loved me and was doing what was in my best interest.  Later he has shown me that the path he led me down was the easier of two painful paths.  I trust the Lord implicitly.  Even now.

And I have always been glad to be a member of my church.  First off, I knew from God that this is His church on the earth.  That is really all the reason I need to be an active member.  Second, I owe the Savior my life.  He has paid too big a debt for me for me not to follow Him and obey Him.  Lastly, there are so many social benefits to being a member that I LOVE being a member of my church. 

Now I have a new reason to add to my list of why I am a member of my church.  My church teaches us that families are eternal and the relationships we have on earth can continue in the heavens.  Specifically, God has restored the sealing power Christ gave to Peter to the earth today and families can be sealed together on this earth by one holding that authority.  My husband and I were married in the Las Vegas Temple.  There one with authority from God, sealed my husband and I together not just till death did we part but for time and all eternity. Included in that sealing were all future children we would have.  If we live worthy and pure, Jon and I will be able to raise Camille to her full maturity after the resurrection.  I have always heard this taught at church and felt it was true.  But now it is the foremost reason in my mind to be a member of my church and to live worthy of that blessing.

I am grateful for the faith I have that has been tried and tested through trials.  It is my life line on these hard days.  I have purposefully tried not to be too preachy in this blog thus far.  I would not push my faith on anyone but I will invite all who read to learn more about my faith by visiting www.mormon.org.

Going to church helped me feel better.  Especially meeting with the young women.  Serving helps.  Thank you all again for your prayers, of whatever faith you may be.  I know the Lord loves each of His children here on earth and listens to each prayer uttered.  May we all strive to learn and live His will.  I know the new reason I will be doing just that ...

(For those of you wondering about Sabrina, she is fine.  She was overly exhausted not able to fall asleep as early as necessary and up early for school for too many days.  When that happens she wakes throwing up, throws up all morning then get a good nap and is fine.  Just a funny way her body has of forcing her to rest.  None of the rest of us are feeling queasy.)

Mama Medicine

My hand combing though Lauren's hair at the graveside.

Right now it is not quite 8 am on a Saturday morning.  I woke up to the sounds of Sabrina throwing up.  Normally I would have been way devastated by such a noise.  I know that usually when I hear throwing up sounds, I need to clear my schedule and plan on tending to the sick one while juggling the others and keeping them separated for a day or so till they feel all better.  Today none of the dread that usually accompanies the stomach flu came to me.  Isn't that strange.

Right now Sabrina is asleep next to me in my bed.  She has thrown up pretty much every 30 minutes for about 2 hours now, but it is basically just dry heaving at this point.  She has slept in between.  She is a good patient and doesn't get too upset about throwing up.  (Not like Ann who screams in anger that she can't control her body while flailing her head in all directions.)   Maybe the lack of dread is because it is Sabrina and not Ann who is sick.  But it could be contagious and they all could get it.  So the dread should still be there.  But it isn't.  

Maybe it is not there because my perspective has changed and suddenly having a kid who is sick and will get better seems like a pretty good thing.  Maybe the dread is not there because for the first time in 2 weeks I am really needed and I can help.  There was not much I could do for Camille, try as I did.  There are few things in my life as a stay at home mother that others cannot do for me.  And so many have lovingly helped to do those mundane jobs of the housewife.  

But throwing up kids -- well that is one you don't let other people do unless you are physically totally unable.  First off, you don't want anyone else to get it, especially other people's kids.  And more importantly, kids need their mom when they are sick.  

There is a medicine just in the presence of your mother.  I know, I have had a few doses of that myself recently.  Something about having your mom around just makes you feel better.  She doesn't have to even do anything special.  Just having her near, with her hand on you somewhere, helps.  Thank heaven for mama medicine.  I am glad to be a provider of it today.

Me and my mother at the cemetery after the funeral

Breathe

Some days are harder than others.  Today has been one of those days.  I nearly lost it in the middle of my Pilate's class.  My teacher doesn't know about the accident.  I haven't told her because I wanted some place I could go without everyone knowing my pain.  She gets to see my physical pain every time I go.  She tells me to breathe through it, "Inhale through the nose; exhale through the mouth.  Don't forget to breathe."

"Don't forget to breathe," I remind myself now when the waves of grief crash over me.  "Don't forget to breathe, Stephanie.  You can't just hold your breath forever.  You have to live.  You have little girls to help through this.  You have to breathe."

And eventually the wave subsides and I don't have to remind myself to breathe anymore.  Then I can come sit at my computer and write out my own personal therapy session for all those who love me to come read to discover the answer to that most difficult and mundane question, "how are you?"

Today, my answer  -- I am breathing.