turning pages

I'm writing my last blog post from our home in Oklahoma.  This is my last night in our house here in Oklahoma. Tomorrow I'll pack up this computer in the u-haul and on Wednesday the u-haul heads out and we begin moving into our new home. I can not even believe that it's here.

I've been in Missouri for the past few days.  I closed on our home this past Thursday and have been working like a chicken with her head cut off at our new house to get it ready to move in (with the amazing help of my dad, sister, and some incredible friends).  What a beautiful blessing to have a new home that we can make completely ours.  I will pause here, however, to say that re-doing kitchen cabinets is no joke and something that I don't ever plan to do again! Whew! I also joined a grief group at a local church in Missouri.  It's a small group, and though we've only met once so far - I can tell you that I really feel as if it's going to be a time of transformation for me.  I already feel a sense of camaraderie, a closeness, with these people.  I am looking forward to it.

But I digress.

The last two blogs that I wrote were hard.  They sucked.  They sucked for me to write and maybe they sucked for you to read.   

It was (obviously) hard to experience what I was experiencing - but it was also hard to feel what I was feeling while also trying to adequately explain what it was that I was going through.  By far the roughest days I've had.

I keep up with this blog, first, for myself.  It helps me to get things out.  And writing is something I've always loved to do.  I sometimes take pen to paper and journal that way - and then transcribe it here. I like to look back over my journey and be able to see where God is woven in and around it all. I also blog for those in my life who I don't get to speak to every day - and even those that I DO speak with every day.  It's hard to put my emotions into words sometimes and some blogs can take hours to write - others I just sit and let my fingers try to keep up with what my brain is spitting out.  But I want to give insight into my side of my grief journey and for you to also see God at work in my life.  I also keep this blog in the hopes that somewhere, some time, someone may read it and it may be of help. I have read so many different blogs of fellow widows - and they have helped me immensely to realize that everything I'm experiencing is normal.  So, I'm as transparent as I can be in hopes that if there is someone who is having a really rough time - maybe they won't feel so alone.  So there you have it - my hope is that this blog will honestly show you grief; the good, the bad, and the ugly. Grief changes a person - there is no doubt about that - but it's up to me how I let those changes shape my future.

All of that to say that I am in the final stages of packing our home. However, this trip here has been so much different than the last. I have had my music up, dancing around the house (trust me - it's less like dancing and more like Napoleon Dynamite meets a drunken llama), and a feeling of peace. That sweet, sweet peace that passes all understanding.  It's such a commonly repeated phrase "peace that passes all understanding" - but when you experience it first hand, it becomes so much more!

I ran across more of Kyle's things today - but instead of holding on to them and breaking down into a heap of tears - I was smiling at the memories attached.  I found myself actually chuckling out loud at some things. 

One year ago today (thanks Timehop) Kyle and I walked over to the Bluegrass and Chili festival.  Our house is right next to the open air arena that the festival is held at. Most nights we could sit on our front porch and hear it. It was a rare night out without our kids.  We took our lawn chairs, sat, and listened to the music. We had a great time!  There was a group there from my hometown of Branson, Missouri called the Cleverly's.  Please do yourself a favor and google them. I remember Kyle's laugh like it was yesterday. Most of the time he'd make a fist and kind of hold it up in front of his mouth and lean forward, shoulders up,  when he was really getting a good chuckle.  That night - I remember it so vividly.  We just had a care free time. The Bluegrass and Chili festival was this past weekend.  I, unfortunately, had to miss it this year - but these memories have really hung with me the past few days. But, not in a sad, somber way.  I have had these memories in a very thankful "man, we really had great times!" kind of way.

This is what I mean by God giving us a lifetime of memories in the short time we had together.  It's so easy to get caught up in the bitter reality of him being gone (and it's perfectly okay to "go there!) - but I have to go back to the very words that flew from my mouth at his memorial service - he would want for us to go on adventures, to make new memories, to LIVE! Kyle would want for me to find reasons to smile.  He would expect for me to laugh again. Would he understand the waves of grief that pop up and knock the wind out of me?  Ab-so-lutely!  However, he would expect that I wouldn't pack up and live in that cloud of grief either.

While I'm almost certain that the next wave of grief is on its way to find me - I am most certainly welcoming times like these where I can smile and laugh at the memories we had more than I cry at the memories that never were.  

I honest to goodness feel ready to turn this page; not turning the page on Kyle - but turning the page on our time in Oklahoma.

bricks

I've heard grief compared to many things; earthquakes, the ocean, a wave, a river, a snowflake, a roller coaster, a fingerprint, a valley, an ugly couch. And if someone were to ask me, in my opinion, which is more fitting, I'd only say "yes". 

Back in January, before the older two kids went back to school after Christmas break, I met with their school principal, counselors, and teachers all at one time to discuss what had happened.  I remember that the principal told me that she couldn't believe what happened - especially since I seemed so "together" when I had called to request the meeting.  I think that at that time I was in complete and utter shock. It's like my brain knew - obviously - I was there when he passed.  I saw it happen.  I knew he was gone.  There were no "what if's" left.  But my mind and my heart hadn't been convinced. So I think for the first few months after he was gone - I just walked around in a giant daze.  In that same meeting with the school personnel I remember one of the counselors telling me "don't be surprised if in a few months it all hits you like a ton of bricks". 

So I would just walk around...waiting for it to happen. 

And then there were times when I would have little "aftershocks" and would wonder if this is what the school counselor meant.

  

I remember discussing with my mom on more than one occasion that I worried about myself because I didn't feel like I was grieving in a way that was "normal".  I felt really sad at times.  But I was worried that I wasn't breaking down and that I was somehow suppressing something that would come back up years down the road - and I didn't want that to happen. 

But then the past 3 days happened.  

I went to lunch with one of my best friends yesterday. After the night I had with going through Kyle's clothes (especially his socks) I knew that I had to get out of our house for a little bit.  Lunch was a breath of fresh air - talking about kids and life over our good old faithful Chicken Tikka Masala.  And then I brought it up. The packing of our house.  I cried.  

Then after I got in my vehicle to leave - I cried some more.  

I went to one of my favorite stores to try to get my mind off of it - and felt so claustrophobic and like I was in some nightmare that I wanted to run away from.  I kept having memory after memory of Kyle hit my brain one after another like the poor kid in a snowball fight whom everyone is throwing their snowballs at - and I couldn't escape it. It was very real.  I got my car and cried again. I couldn't get away from it - no matter where I went, no matter what I did. I was trapped in my own thoughts and I couldn't stop it.

What in the flip was wrong with me??!

Not a dang thing!!

Here it was - here are those proverbial bricks by the ton.  

I can't be in our house without having a giant knot in my stomach. I can't pack more than a few things without memories flooding my brain and the tears flowing. But what I'm discovering is that this is all a part of the process.  My sister-in-law posted something lately about in order to heal - you have to feel.  And it is so, so true.

On the way home from lunch that day I was literally sobbing out to God.  I felt like I was drowning in this giant wave of grief that had found me.  I couldn't shake it. I texted my precious mother-in-law to see if I could come to her house for a bit.  Partly just to hold my baby boys and partly because Kyle's family are my connection to Kyle and I NEEDED to just be in their presence for a little while.  And I know that even though our grief journey's are all a little different from each other - they get it. I can not tell you how much it helped just walking into her house.  I could finally breathe a little. 

I was able to pack a little more last night - but made sure to avoid any of Kyle's things.

It's been much the same today with packing.  I'll pack a little and then get out of the house for a break.  I also got to visit with Kyle's grandparents and aunt today.  Oh-so-needed!

When I had lunch with Kristin yesterday I told her that when I first started packing a few weeks ago it wasn't that bad - it was pretty exciting.  But that was all stuff that was on the surface that we use all the time: towels, dishes, DVD's, kids stuff, etc.  But now we're down to the stuff that hasn't been touched since he's been gone.  I think this is where it's gotten so hard - I can remember the last time that certain video games were played were when he was here and we were having a family game night, or the last time his T.A.R.D.I.S. USB port was used was when he was here to use it and now I'm unplugging it to pack it away. I've put on each of his coat's and jackets - and soaked it in like his arms were around me again. And then - his still unopened Christmas presents.  With every thing there is a memory attached.

Some things I just toss in a box before my brain has any chance to stop and think about it. Other things I just sit on the ground with them in my hands, close my eyes, and allow my brain to take all the time it needs. I cry as much as I need to cry.  I sob to God as much as I need to sob.  I allow myself feel all the pain and heartache I need to instead of fighting against it.

Life has been SO hectic since Kyle passed away.  I rarely don't have at least one kid with me at all times.  If I don't have any kids then I'm cleaning or doing laundry or something mundane like that. Then let's throw in finishing school, graduating, having a baby, having a toddler break his leg and be in a cast for 6 weeks (yes that actually happened - which is why there was a big gap in blogging), buying a house and moving and all that that entails. I have not allowed myself to simply just sit in the sorrow for a little while. And the past couple of days I have been forced to do just that. No distractions to hold my attention away from the memories. And it's uncomfortable, and it makes my entire body ache with an indescribable pain. I have cried more in the past few days than I probably have in the past 8 months combined. I want nothing more than to run away from it - yet at the same time I want to feel every last bit of it. This is where my heart begins to start putting itself back together - or at least as together as it can be.  

The packing won't get finished this trip like I had planned - and I'll need to come back sooner than expected to try to finish. But, that's life - and that's okay.  I know that this will only get harder in the coming week with the loading of the U-haul and the finality of locking these doors and leaving this house for the final time.  But I am so grateful that the memories will be going with me.

  

socks

I am not immune to feelings of anger.  I realize that it can seem as if I have a good handle on what's happened to me - to my family.  And for the most part I feel as if I have done and am doing a pretty good job of moving forward.  But today, I am angry. And I'm not even trying to fight it right now.

I have been staying at my parents home three hours away in the town we are moving to waiting to close on our new house this coming week.  Don't get me wrong - I am completely excited to purchase a home to make our own - a place to make new memories.  I didn't want to be in the home we shared with Kyle at Christmas as I felt as if the memories would be crushing for all of us.

Today, I am at our old house working on packing.  Our older kids are with my parents as they have school this week.  Our youngest kids are with Kyle's family to visit.  So here I am - alone in this house filled with all kinds of memories.

I feel like I have subconsciously compartmentalized a lot of life over the past few months, and especially as I begin this journey of packing up our home to move.  I feel like this is what has kept me from really breaking down. But something happened and today the "excited to have a new start and new memories" me has met up with the "very sentimental, still raw" me and a perfect storm of anger- filled grief has ensued.

I can't pinpoint when it happened. But I feel this absolute despair in my chest.  I've found myself holding on to many of his things today and saying out loud "it wasn't supposed to be this way" and  "you were supposed to stay with me forever" and "why aren't you still here"

I have absolutely dreaded the day that I have to go through his clothes drawers.  Dreaded it.  I've gone through most of his other things over the course of the last 8 months - his books, art supplies, colognes, desk drawers, etc.  I'm not sure what it is about his clothes that I've been so anxious about but it was every bit as torturous, and sad, and unfair, and painful, and anxiety provoking, and maddening as I imagined it could be.  

I always used to joke with him about the number of socks that he owned.  And now the thing I joked with him about is an absolutely cruel, crushing reminder of my hard, harsh reality.  It felt completely wrong to just simply toss his socks. Of all things, that made it feel so real to me that he's not here - and he's not coming back.  

Socks. 

And I had to have an actual conversation with myself to not pack every pair of socks he owned to bring with me to our new house - though I did keep a few pairs for myself and also for our boys.

The process of packing is taking so much longer than it normally would because, you see, when I close this chapter at this house - one of the main characters from this chapter isn't coming with me (physically anyway) into my next chapter.  So I'm trying so hard to really take it all in - to make sure that my brain holds on to every last memory we've made here.  

missing triangle

being a psych graduate (well, community counseling graduate with a psych minor...but close enough) several theories about various parts of the personality were consistently drilled into our heads.  My favorite of my entire college career was Sternberg's Triangular Theory of Love.  I first heard about this theory in my community college days back in 2010. I fell in love (no pun intended) with it back then and every time it came up after that it almost felt like putting on a big, comfie, worn-in sweatshirt.  It's simple really - this theory states that there are three different components to love: intimacy, commitment, and passion.  Various combinations of these three components can yield eight possible kinds of love.  For example romantic loves comes from a combination of passion and intimacy, companionate love is a combination of intimacy and commitment. And the granddaddy of them all? Consummate love.  The combination of all three - passion, intimacy, and commitment.  Not all marriages consist of consummate love. And not all of those who experience consummate love end up married.

I like to think that my love with my late husband most closely identified with consummate love.  It made me proud.  And quite often Kyle and I would say that we almost felt a sense of sadness for those who would never experience the "love" that we had for each other. Oftentimes we would say that the word "love" didn't quite fit what we felt or had with each other - it went far beyond that.  Though our love fit every "leg" of Sternberg's triangular theory of love - the part I miss the most, hands down, is having my companion here.

I had a horrible nightmare last night.  Horrible.  And Kyle was in it. It wasn't the first time I've ever had a nightmare, but it was the first time I've had one like this since he's been gone.  My very first instinct when I woke up was to wake him up so I could tell him about it and so he could comfort me.  But, he wasn't there.  What an empty, sinking feeling.   A kick in the gut.  It's been almost 8 months since he passed away and yet the first thing that I expected to do was turn over in bed to see him there. There will be times that I'll see something that strikes me as funny.  I'll pick up my phone and start a text box to him - then it hits me... I'll see his last text to me from Dec. 20 and realize that I can't just pop a message to him.

He was truly my best friend. I don't mean that in some "he was my husband so that automatically made him my best friend even though in reality we were only married and not really friends but I call him my best friend because that's what you're supposed to do with your spouse" kind of way.  He was honestly my best friend.  He knew all there was to know about me. He was the first person I shared my joys with, the first person I shared my fears with, the first person I shared my anxieties with.  He was my adventure buddy.  He listened to every thing I said and always had the best advice.  And that is what I miss most. That is what makes me feel the most lonely.

There is no rule book about being a widow.  I'm not sure what I'm supposed to feel and when. Not too long after Kyle's memorial service some well-intentioned person who I am sure was just trying to help told me that somewhere out there there is a man for me and God will send him my way when the time is right.  I wasn't too sure how to respond to that.  The cynical side of me thought "yes, God sent him to me and God just took him away". But I also realized that people who have never been in these shoes before don't really know WHAT to say or how to say it.  They realize you lost someone so important and they want to be able to assure you in some way that everything is going to be okay.  I've been on that side of it before and I'm sure that I've said some really questionable things at really sucky times as well. So I try my best to see it for what it is; not someone telling me to get over it or that Kyle is replaceable- but someone who loves us enough that they are concerned with letting me know that I'll be okay.  I realize that there are a lot of emotions present at times such as these and everyone deals with those emotions in their own ways.

I'm not going to lie, it is really rough to not have my companion.  Daily I see posts from my Facebook friends about their relationships, their marriages, and my heart breaks all over again that I've lost that part of me.  Will I ever choose to date again? No clue.  Do I want to stay single for the rest of my life because that will somehow prove that Kyle is irreplaceable?  Maybe so.  Would Kyle want me to try to find another companion?  Probably.  I can guarantee that his response would be along the line of wanting to make sure that I'm happy.  But all of that isn't for me to decide right now.  And I'm not sure that it'll ever be something that I will sit down and make a decision about.  Right now I'm still trying to figure out life without Kyle.  One fellow widow-sister put it best when she said you never move on once you've lost your spouse - but you do choose to move forward.  There will never be a day that I don't love Kyle.  I will never "move on".  But, for my sake and the sake of our kids, I do have to choose to move forward.

In the coming months there will be a lot of "me" time.  I am taking time to dive into me; to seek healing, to seek peace, to once again seek God (something that has been very hard for me to do as of late).  I've relocated back to my hometown, I'm in the middle of buying a home (blog post here), I've joined a grief group in my new hometown to form new relationships with those who are in my boat, I have a church in mind that I want to visit, I've decided to join the local MOPS group to be able to make new mommy friends.  This season of my life isn't one where I'm searching for my missing triangle.  This is time where I'm re-building MY foundation. This is a time to focus on being a mom to my precious children who also are dealing with the loss of their dad. This is a time for my little family to find our normal - to make a life for ourselves without the one who made this life possible.

change

It wasn't long before I knew we would grow out of the house we have rented since Kyle and I got married.  It's a small house.  Quaint.  But it feels like home.  We managed to build a life in this house; a life that I love!  But, I now have four children and I knew that I would eventually be faced with the prospect of moving.

It's not something that I liked thinking about.  I love the idea of having more space for our kids - that's a given.  But, the idea of packing up all of our memories (which includes making myself finally go through his belongings) and actually, physically having to shut the door on this home...it makes me nauseous to think about it.

Well - the time came that a decision had to be made.  I knew it was time to start looking for a bigger house - but along with that fact came the decision of whether the home would be located in the town that we live now - where Kyle grew up, where his family lives - or would we relocate back to my home town three hours away where my family lives - OR would we go somewhere new all together. It was a decision that would have to be made before the bigger kids started back to school. So, I didn't have months and months to ponder it.

I know for some the answer would be blindingly obvious - go back to my hometown.  However, unlike a lot of in-law relationships - I love Kyle's family.  His mom, grandparents, siblings...they're all so precious to me and I love them as if I've known them my entire life.  
I have had my fair share of moments since Kyle's passing where I have had to try to figure out my place in his family again.  No one can possibly prepare you for the very odd, yet real feelings that ensue after you've lost your spouse and yet you're still a part of his family.  Please be sure that it is absolutely nothing that his family has done and I'm not even saying it's a BAD thing - just a very odd and uncomfortable feeling. If there was one thing I know that everyone knew about Kyle it was that he absolutely cherished his entire family.  So I was no longer going to visit them WITH my husband. And though there had been times before when I would see my in-laws without my husband around - it just felt different knowing why he wasn't there.  Seeing his family together - I almost felt like I was outside looking in.  Maybe it's because when I'm around his family - his absence is more painfully obvious. From what I've read this is perfectly normal - but it hasn't been my favorite either.  I've read stories of widows who didn't have a relationship with their husband's family before their husband passed away - and then after his death the widow just detaches from his family completely and goes her own way.  And then there are the similar stories where there are kids involved and then the kids end up missing a relationship with their deceased parent's family.  This is one of the many times that I am grateful that Kyle's family embraced me as one of their own.  I've told them that as much as they need our kids because our kids are a piece of Kyle - our kids (and myself included) need them because they are my piece of Kyle and they are our kids piece of their dad. 

So I have been reluctant to make any decision that would involve me moving our children away from Kyle's family.  While none of them can possibly imagine my journey through all of this - as, thankfully, they've not lost a spouse due to death - I can not possibly imagine their journey as I've never lost a child or a sibling to death. So I think about that and then think about moving their pieces of Kyle (the kids) away - and it hurts my heart.  

On the other hand, there's my family.  Again - there are some people who don't have the relationship with their family like I do.  There is just something about having your own "village" around.  

I had been going back and forth about what to do for a few weeks.  And then I went to an awards banquet.  One of the speakers spoke about indecision.  He eventually said that when it comes down to it, you can seek counsel from whomever you want to , but the decision is yours to make - no one elses.  That hit me.  So I decided to move back to my hometown.  

I never expected what happened next.  I would peruse the home listing sites every night before going to bed.  Mainly just dreaming because there is no way that a single mother of four who is not employed can buy a house.  One night I came across a home that had just been listed a few hours prior and already had 300+ views.  So I sent the realtor an email about it.  This house checked off every "wish" I had in a home.  It was twice the size of the rental house we're in now, each kid would have a bedroom, it had a play room, big kitchen, lots of trees, and it sits on a half acre lot.  It's 10 minutes from my parents, 10 minutes from the kids' school, 5 minutes from the grocery store, and north of the main part of town.  I knew it wouldn't last long on the market, but I still felt like I needed to see it.  The realtor sent me an email early the next morning.  As I suspected he had already set up a handful of viewings of the home.  So I told him I could meet him there that afternoon.  When we arrived another realtor was showing the home to other people.  But, I was the first person that the listing agent showed the home to.  I walked in and - I'm not even kidding - knew that this was my home. I cannot explain it.  I put in an offer 2 hours later.  Within the hour my offer (which was the first to the buyers, and the only one they saw) was accepted!!!!  There were 2 other offers that came in that evening AFTER they accepted mine. God has opened door after door with this home.  I'm sure I'll be anxious about it until the keys are in my hands -but it just feels like God is all in this.  

Fresh starts I suppose.

 

dear kyle

My Kyle,

I can't help but think that you had something to do with the arrival date of our little anniversary present.

William "Liam" Kyle
5/20/2016 / 2:10AM
7lb. 9oz.
20" long

You would have been floored, yet possibly proud, of my sailor's mouth when he came so quick that I wasn't able to get an epidural (my OB didn't make it in time so the anesthesiologist made the catch!).

Kyle - he is beautiful, and so sweet, and alert, and I can't help but see you when I look at him.

Happy anniversary my love! We did good!

closing chapters

Last week I presented my Capstone project. Capstone is basically the culmination of a my undergraduate career.  Essentially it's a giant research project in which I chose a topic (in my case it's in the human service field), research it, and gather participants to survey in an effort to prove my hypothesis.  Then I run statistical analysis on my findings, build a big presentation around my findings, and then present it for judging.  At my Capstone presentation each presenter had 3 judges.  Judges were free to ask whatever questions that they deemed necessary and it was my job to answer their questions to show that I knew my topic front and back.  It's a lot of work - but it's also the last hurdle before graduation.

I remember shortly before Kyle passed away (I'm talking merely a couple of weeks) we sat in bed one night for nearly 2 hours just talking about my Capstone project.  I was stuck between two topics that I felt equally as strong about.  However, he was leaning more towards one than the other.  He was so invested in it and he seemed really, genuinely interested and intrigued by it.  We had one of the best conversations that night just going over every possible scenario and theory for this research. I remember his eyes lit up while he was talking to me about it. (For those curious, since I was stuck between topics, I went with the one he and I had spent so much time talking about: researching Internet search habits and health anxiety levels)

You see, my major is in Community Counseling and my minor in Psychology.  I am very well-aware that there are many people who don't really take that field seriously, and think that it's more or less a waste of time. That in itself is something I've had to work through; I don't want for people to think that my degree is any less important than, say, someone who is majoring in business or education. This field is something that I have felt strongly about for as long as I can remember.  I have had friends and family diagnosed with mental illnesses.  I, myself, struggled with undiagnosed postpartum depression after the birth of my second baby which led to a battle with anxiety. I'm also an advocate for ending the stigma that surrounds mental illness and hope to be able to have a platform in which to try to make a difference in that area.

But, that night when we sat there and just talked about this project - that has stayed with me and became one of the driving forces in me deciding to continue with school this semester and push forward with my Capstone research.  I can not begin to explain what it felt like to have him so engaged in something that meant so much to me.  I can't really put it into words.  So, often over the past 3 months (since this semester began) I've had flashbacks to that conversation; seeing the excitement in his eyes to see me so excited talking about it.  And when I presented my project to the judges last week - I saw his face in my head.  That same excited face. Even though Psychology may not have been something that he was hugely into - I know that just seeing me complete my project and to be able to defend it to the judges - he would have been absolutely over-the-moon proud.  That's just who he was - he loved seeing those around him succeed and be happy.  It made him genuinely happy.

He was my biggest cheerleader with, well, everything!  But especially with my education.  In 6 days I will be walking across a stage to accept my Bachelor of Science degree...and my biggest cheerleader won't be there to see it.

He encouraged me to go back to school after my separation/divorce.  When I graduated with my Associates degree in 2012, he was the only person who was able to come to my ceremony (he drove 3 hours to take me to dinner and see my graduation and drove 3 more hours back home afterwards).  At the time of my Associates graduation we were engaged  - and to be married only a couple of days later! Once we were married and I moved to Oklahoma and started in on my Bachelor's degree, it seemed as if I would have issues every single semester with various administrative departments here, he was the one who would keep me calm.  He'd listen to me vent about group projects, shared in my excitement with my first internship opportunity, listened to me promise to never procrastinate on another project ever - only to turn around and start a speech or a big paper a mere days before it was due. Every time I took a test, I'd come home and he'd say "how do you think you did?".  I'd typically say something like "eh, I'm not feeling so confident" and he'd always have this smirk on his face and say "you said that last time and you got an A, I'm betting you did great!" and if it ended up that I got a good grade, there'd come that smirk again and he'd get so much pleasure in saying "see? I told you so!".  He made sure he was at my Psi Chi induction even though he hadn't been feeling well. He'd hang out with the kids so I could go to the library to study.  He'd put kids to bed without me even asking when he knew I had deadlines coming up. I absolutely could not have completed my degree, accomplished this dream, had it not been for him and his endless support. And so like so many other occasions that we've already been forced to go through without him, it is so bittersweet.

I am so excited to graduate - but there will absolutely be a huge void in that day.

And only two days after I graduate, I am due with our fourth baby.  I'm not going to lie, I'm worried.  I'm worried about how it's going to feel to deliver our baby without him there.

I am so grateful that Kyle knew we were having a baby, he knew it was a boy, and we had already decided his name.  Kyle had already been talking to my belly for a few weeks before he passed away - even though he never got to feel the baby move.  In fact the first time that I felt baby move with my hand on the outside of my belly was the day before Kyle passed away.  He was in the ICU and sedated - so he was never able to feel him. I'm not sure if it happened this way on purpose or not.  I like to think that as Kyle was leaving this earth - part of his spirit was living on his baby that I'm carrying.  Ever since then - whenever I feel this baby move - I'm reminded that I have this piece of Kyle in me.  It has brought me so much comfort.  When we had Kyle's memorial service, I felt as if I wanted to get up to speak.  But I wasn't sure if I would be able to.  I spoke to the pastor beforehand.  He said when he got up to pray, if I felt as if I was able to speak I could come up during prayer.  If he finished with prayer and I wasn't up there, he would then assume that I had decided to not speak. When the pastor started the opening prayer, this baby within me started rolling and kicking like never before.  I felt like it was Kyle's way of putting his arms around me and encouraging me to go speak. And so I did.

And so, my mind has often wondered what it will be like when I deliver our baby - and I no longer feel this movement within me.  Yes, I will have our baby here to hold and love on.  But, there is an indescribable bond that happens when a mother feels her unborn child within her - and I'm so anxious about not having him in my womb anymore; not feeling this connection with Kyle anymore.

I am about to close two chapters in my life; two chapters that Kyle was so intertwined with.  There is definitely going to be a period of adjustment after this next week is over.

But, then I see his sweet face in my head, that smirk of his, and hear him saying "you said that last time, then you passed with flying colors. So I'm betting you're going to do great!"