Lucie turned one yesterday! We've done much celebrating, and she has enjoyed being the center of attention. It's been a crazy busy and full year with many ups and downs, and it certainly has been my favorite year ever. We've been so blessed with this wonderful baby (now more like a little kid)! Please enjoy this video chronicling a Year in the Life of Lucinda!
Lucinda is One from Matt Kennedy on Vimeo.
Say hello to the newest member of our family: Lucinda Hope Gustafson Kennedy.
Early yesterday morning I left for work at the farmer's market, and just an hour later I recieved a phone call from Nicole letting me know that contractions had started. I rushed home, but as the day wore on it seemed to be a "false alarm". We went to bed last night around 11pm or so, and contractions started again. About 2:30am I awoke startled when Nicole announced her water had broken. I lept out of bed and nearly tripped over myself as we gathered our things for the hospital. Contractions began to come very quickly. The thought began to cross both our minds that we might not make it to the hospital. Fortunately, with great concentration we were able to make it down the three flights of stairs in our building and to labor and delivery at Swedish Covenant Hospital in time. Nicole only labored a couple more hours, and we were very surprised when with just one big push little Lucie nearly shot right out! Our midwife wasn't even ready yet to catch her!
We're glad to say that delivery went fine and that both mother and baby appear to be in good condition. Lucinda is 9lbs 7ozs with long black hair. The three of us have spent the day resting and recouperating from all the excitement.
We know many people have been thinking of us and praying for us. We're grateful for all the love and encouragement, and giving thanks to God for this new little blessing.
What a celebration! Church this morning was so beautiful. The bells, the choir, the brass, the tulips, the lilies, the tapestries, the butterflies--all to praise our risen Lord. I've always wanted to take some pictures in the sanctuary at North Park Covenant, and I though this would be a good opportunity.
The kids had a quick Easter Egg Hunt on the platform!
The choir sang the Hallelujah Chorus and invited the congregation to come to the front and join in
Multicolored butterflies were a new addition this year
Jesus lives, and so shall I. Death! thy sting is gone forever!
We had a really great day yesterday! We had our appointment for my 20 week ultrasound, and given our history with Evie, I got a little more than the routine treatment. I saw 3 specialists for about a half hour each: 1 to do the routine ultrasound, 1 who looked only at the structure of the heart, and 1 who looked at all the other organs and bones and such. All in all my belly was abused for about an hour and a half! But it was so fun. One of the very first things we found out was that it's a GIRL! And the best thing we found out is that she seems to be in great health. They can't see everything on the ultrasound, but they can see a lot--including most of our concerns about the heart. Everything is in its right place and appears to be the right size. Thanks to everyone who prayed for us and encouraged us! We feel so lucky.
Interesting coincidence--I knew that the person who would be looking at the heart would be a cardiologist from Children's Memorial, but I imagined the chance of it being someone we knew would be slim because they have nearly 20 cardiologists on staff and we only met with 3. It just happened to be that the cardiologist who came to do my ultrasound was a Dr. we met on the very first day that Evie was admitted to Children's. She did Evie's echocardiogram on that day, but that was the only time we met her. She still remembered me and Evie even though it has been over a year! Such good people.
I feel that while I'm being honest about my joy I should also be honest about my grief. I found that when we discovered that the heart was in great shape I was so relieved, but then also heartbroken all over again that Evie didn't get to have the same fortune. I wish our 2 daughters could have had the same opportunities. Matt and I have seen a therapist periodically since Evie's death and we have talked extensively about future children. One thing he's always noted is that with the joy of seeing milestones in our children's lives, grief will also come. I didn't take that to heart until yesterday and now I can see what he means. While I feel like I have gotten a great gift, I also am bound to remember that Evie got cheated out of the gifts of health and life.
With that said, we are THRILLED! So happy that we got a good health report, and also that pigtails and dresses are in our near future. :) Poor Matt will be outnumbered in his own home!
Hey folks, I'm going to do a quick plug for an organization I'm doing some work for this weekend: Urban Meadows is a non-profit florist that employs people who suffer from mental illness. Not only does it help individuals with new job skills, but its also a work environment that is therapeutic for them. Their shop is in the loop, but they deliver to most of Chicagoland.
Most people I know are shying away from Valentines Day extravagances this year, but if you are going to send flowers to someone in Chicagoland--support a good organization instead of the fat-cats at the big chain florists.
Last night I was filled with great pride to see my lovely bride receive her Master's degree at the Winter commencement ceremony. It can't be understated how hard Nicole has worked these last 3.5 years. She's juggled full time work, multiple part time jobs, a full load of graduate courses, and a pregnancy--all while putting up with a dufus like me. Her hard work kept us fed, clothed, and sheltered while we pursued graduate education. After going through so much last winter, Nicole committed to press on with her studies and this fall finished her coursework to earn a Master of Non-Profit Administration degree. I'm continually impressed with her diligence and her grace under fire. She is an inspiration to me. Congratulations, Nicole. You've more than earned it.
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your Presence?
If I ascend into heaven, you are there;
If I make my bed in the grave, you are there;
If I rise on the wings of the morning
or dwell on the farthest reaches of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me
and your right hand shall hold me.
If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me
and the night shall be light about me,"
Even the darkness hides nothing from You,
but the night shines as the day;
the darkness and the light are both alike to You.
-Psalm 139
Tonight marks an entire year since the night we held our daughter for the final time as she breathed her last. Easily, the darkest moment of our lives. Its something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. There are times when people pass away, and though sad, it is a holy moment to honor a life well lived. Many other times, premature death shatters all we know to be good and holy. The night Evie died was a night of bitter loneliness. I did not know where God was.
Do you show your wonders to the dead?
Do their Spirits rise up to praise you?
Is your love declared in the grave?
Why do you hide your face from me?
You have taken from me...
Darkness is my only companion
-Psalm 88
In the following days, weeks, and months our friends surrounded us with care. They prayed when we could not. I grasped for faith, and occasionally, caught hold of something. Or perhaps, more accurately, someone got a hold of me. My mind still frequently remembers holding her cold body and wondering where God went. Eventually, I learned where God was. Here...
God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself
-2 Corinthians 5.19
Where was God? He was on the cross, befriending my daughter in his death. God the Father, grieving the grief that we know... that he knows. But that is not the final word.
In bringing many sons and daughters to glory, it was fitting that God, for whom and through whom everything exists, should make the pioneer of their salvation perfect through what he suffered... Since children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might break the power of him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil—and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death. -Hebrews 2.10, 14-5
God knows. God cares. More than that, God saves. The love demonstrated in the death and resurrection of Christ means not only that Evie is not alone, but that she and I and all who belong to him will not stay dead. Death has been swallowed up in Victory! Where, O Death, is your Victory? Where, O Death, is your sting? -I Corinthians 15:55
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Still, we miss her so much. The passage of time has healed a lot of wounds, but in some ways its painful to think about how long she's been gone. Grief is a curious thing. It ebbs and flows and shows up in unexpected ways. Today has been a mostly good day. We've spent it together just being with one another and also finding some holiday activities to lift our spirits a little bit.
Studies have shown that couples who lose a child might triple their odds of divorce. There might be a few different reasons for this. For one, the inevitable depression that accompanies the loss can put incredible strain on marriage. The adage might also be true that "hurt people, hurt people". While certainly the pain of losing Evie impacted our relationship, remarkably our love for each other has been an incredible source of strength for the battle. We know we need each other. We're blessed to have each other to carry one another. We're also blessed to have such a wonderful community of people who look out for us and have helped us along this last year: both our biological family, our many church families, and friends from all over. We'll never be able to thank you all enough.
Today is four months since Evie died. Our grief counselor says that we're appropriately moving ahead through the stages of grief. Yet there are days like today when the wound hurts as much as it ever has, but it is different. My stages of grief have a different feel to them as time goes on, but the extent of the pain seems to heal oh so slowly. We've been able to put on a good face most of the time, but the truth is that we are still incredibly wounded.
In the first weeks after Evangeline died, I can't really remember what it all felt like. I'm sure it was horrific, but perhaps as a coping mechanism my mind is protecting me from those memories. What I can remember was the fear. The first 6-8 weeks of our grief were compounded by a kind of Post-traumatic stress disorder. Both Nicole and I would have flashbacks to the frightening episodes at the hospital. Sounds and images haunted us. Fortunately we're both struggling less with those experiences.
In more recent months, the pain has become a kind of enduring ache. The overwhelming feeling is that something is missing. Every moment and event of the day is a reminder that she's not here. For the first three months I had very few dreams with Evie in them. In recent weeks, I've dreamt about her more--but they all end the same. I dream she is still alive, but the moment I realize its only a dream I wake up. All kinds of things will everyday remind me of what I've lost.
There are some sensitive souls out there who are mindful of us still, especially as we find ourselves around other babies. Yes, it is hard to see you laughing and enjoying your child, but we can't be tip-toed around forever. This is the way life is right now. We don't hate you or your babies for your happiness--except sometimes the jealousy is enough to make us angry. Its not because of you. Its the anger in me. We don't expect people to tip-toe around us. All I ask is that you never forget how lucky you are.
The greatest fear we face is the fear of forgetting. As life goes on and we continue to become more normal, how will we still honor the life of our daughter? Its a dilemma that I couldn't have expected when we first began this journey: Feeling normal and feeling good feels bad. I feel guilty about many of the things I enjoy now. Nicole and I might share a nice evening out and have fun, but in the back of my mind I think, "the only reason we can go out is because our daughter is no longer in the hospital." It feels bad to feel good.
So when people ask, "how are you doing?" I don't often have the energy to say what I've just said. We're doing okay. We make slow progress in healing, but it is progress and it is healing. We are most of the time able to put on a good face, and our lives function nearly normally again (not quite 100%). We're not stronger or weaker than most people. There are still a lot of bad days. There are some good days. Its very hard, not much easier than it has been.
Thats the shape it takes.
For some reason I really struggled today with a lot of grief and stress. Getting through work was tough enough, and when I came home I was tempted to just feel sorry for myself--but Matt was smart enough to drag me out into the world. A drive around town and a walk at Lake Michigan did me some good.
When I was doing my "Prepared Childbirth" class in October, Matt would of course join me in learning about the process of labor and delivery. The people who accompanied the pregnant women were called their "support person," so I came to use that term for Matt both jokingly and endearingly while I was pregnant. If he would help me with something I'd say, "you're the best support person!" or if I was trying to convince him to do something for me I'd say,"Aw c'mon, you're my support person!" On nights like tonight it's clear that he is still my support person.
EDIT: Oh, one more thing I forgot. This is my favorite exchange from tonight as Matt and I drove and talked (the context is that I realized we were in a familiar neighborhood and I hadn't paid attention to how we got there)
Me: "The nice thing about never knowing what's going on around me is that I get surprised a lot."
Matt: "It must be very exciting being you."
Today marks 3 months since Evie died. That really isn't very long, but yet it feels like ages since I was still holding out hope for her. All the while I realized that she may not make it, but I knew that if she did I would throw her the biggest party after she came home so everyone who cared and prayed for her could finally meet her. Sometimes I just can't believe that I'm not planning that party.
This past weekend also marked one year since Matt and I found out I was pregnant. Realizing the significance of this made me reflect on the past 12 months and all that I've experienced. The standout moments (no surprise) are Evie's birth and death. Though her death is the most devastating event in my life, her birth is still the most important--her death does not overshadow it in my memory and I am so thankful for that. Sometimes I feel like I've lost everything, but the truth is nothing can take that amazing day away from me and it will always be mine. I guess I find it kind of strange that the worst year of my life also contains the greatest day.
Her very first birthday photo (it's not an easy feat to be cute from the very beginning, but I think she accomplished it like a natural) :
No doubt that since losing Evie we've had some struggles with our faith. We ask ourselves the oft asked question, "how could a good god allow this to happen?" Over time I hope that as I share some of my own theological reflection, it can be a help to others. In any case let me say this, I still believe. I believe, but since the tragedy God has certainly felt distant. What used to be for me a deep sense of his presence is now a feeling of emptiness and loneliness... but it is not unique to me, consider the many characters of scripture who felt the same thing (Psalm 30, Job, Mark 15.34). But because I do not necessarily feel God near me does not mean that I don't believe. The very reason that I've ever believed is that the story of Christ's life, death, and resurrection made me believe that I was loved by God. Thats about as simple as it gets. I could get more elaborate, in reality this explanation is sufficient to me. Jesus proves God's love. I try and live in accordance.
There were plenty of answered and unanswerable questions in my life before Evie died. Now there are more. I live on borrowed faith; the faith of friends, mentors, prophets, apostles, and saints. It never really was just my own faith, but I hope and anticipate that I will "own" more of it again. In the meantime I still try and love God and neighbor, even though both can piss me off. They've shown enough kindness and patience that I can at least return the favor until I get my head back on straight.
I found the following passage quite fitting for both Valentines day and the season Lent...
Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is,
than falling in Love in a quite absolute way.
What you are in love with,
What seizes your imagination,
Will affect everything.
It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning,
What you will do with your evenings,
How you will spend your weekends,
What you read, what you know,
What breaks your heart,
And what amazes you in joy and gratitude.
Fall in love, stay in love,
and it will decide everything.
-Pedro Arrupe
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