The Daily Hailey

I just want to hide out. I want to quit blogging, among other things. But I fear that, if I take a break, I’ll never be back. So bear with me through this time of sorrowing out in public, putting all the ugly out there.

Thank you all for your beautiful support and love on yesterday’s post. The amount of comments, texts, private messages, etc. was overwhelming. While it doesn’t take very much to overwhelm us these days, it was so loving. We know that we could call on any one of you at any moment and you could come running. We are so fortunate to have such an army of supportive friends. Thank you, all, for reaching out and loving on us.

There is so much I want to write and record. I want to tell you about all of the amazing people who cared for us as we learned about and processed and struggled through the death of our baby boy. I want to share details, both beautiful and brutal details. I want to share more pictures of my son who so few people ever got to meet in person. There is a lot that I want to do. Some I won’t ever do, and some I will when my head is clearer. Not today. Today, we continue to hide.

Tomorrow is Dekker’s birthday. He will be six! I can hardly believe he is aging. When in the world did I get a six year old?? I hate that his birthday that he has SO anticipated is being overshadowed. Luckily, we have a very quiet, low key plan for tomorrow evening that he will be very happy with, and that our hearts can handle. Because this boy is a gem that needs to be celebrated.

Yesterday, Dekker offered to pray for lunch. We all held hands, and instead of actually praying for lunch, his prayer went like this.

“Dear Jesus, thank you for baby Jamin. Please be with mommy, and help her have another baby. Amen.”

Later that day, as I was walking out of the room he was in, I heard him say to me that he was sorry the baby died. I told him I was sorry, too. We agreed that we both wished he could be home here with us. But then he said to me “But God is even better than here. Even better than our house!”

Isn’t he amazing??

I hate going through this. I hate it. And I don’t say “hate” unless I truly hate something. And I do. With all of that, though, I am so amazed at my kids, who are clearly thinking and processing and have this beautiful innocence and faith that I pray to share with them. A child-like faith. That’s what I want.

Please be patient with me, and with our family, as we navigate these deep deep waters. The metaphor is so real, as I am a terrible swimmer in both literal and metaphoric aspects. Grief is so heavy.