Today I Bury My Baby
Well, friends...this is a day I did not anticipate, nor do I welcome. This day could have never come, and it would've been too soon. Even as I type this words, the tears are flowing and my faithful friends, Dr. Pepper and peanut butter are in abundance by my side. I'll probably even add cookies and muffins to the plate before too long. Might want to go ahead and call the workout police...multiple infractions over here at the Carr Castle.
I have remained largely silent since my last blog post on Friday evening, and it wasn't because I thought we were on a break. :) There simply were no words. There still aren't, but it's difficult for me to be quiet...even if what I'm saying is drivel. I also remembered that those cavemen/women without Facebook were most assuredly missing the 411. SO...here we are.
Late Friday evening, our sweet Zoe went running into the arms of Jesus. Her poor little body couldn't withstand one more thing. She was in her 2nd high-risk heart surgery, and it was just too much. They'd already equipped her with the Berlin heart device, had added a shunt to aid in the flow to the lungs, and were planning on adding an oxygenator to the device should her lungs not be able to function at full capacity due to the issues she'd developed there. Surprisingly, Zoe's blood pressure wasn't able to stay within functioning parameters, and every time the doctors would try to remove her from the bypass, her pressures would plummet. They really couldn't figure out why this would happen and were certain that there were even further issues with Zoe's anatomy that they'd not yet learned that were causing the problem. Therefore, in spite of every effort known to man, our sweet angel was no more.
With tears in their eyes, the doctors told us that it appeared that nothing would've ever worked, given the apparent systemic problems that had gone undetected. In the end, it wasn't her heart...it wasn't her lungs...it was more likely, too much damage over too long a period of time. Ultimately, it was God's plan.
It's surreal. I'm sitting in my living room at 1am, writing you this little note...a room that was full a few hours ago with family and friends that have gathered to celebrate Zoe's life. The outpouring of love and compassion from our family and friends has been unbelievable. We are so thankful for each word said and each prayer lifted on our behalf.
But is this really happening?!? The last two days have been filled with horrors that no one...especially no parent...should ever have to endure. Choosing caskets, picking cemeteries, choosing plots, picking out clothes for burial, deciding what special things to include in the casket, trying to choose what to wear to the funeral of your sweet baby who loved bright colors...this cannot be real.
People keep telling me when to eat and sleep. We're planning services, picking music, caring for our other children...trying to be sensitive to their need for normalcy when the death of the innocent smacks you square in the gut...I don't want to do this. I want to go back in time...back before it was hard to keep breathing. I feel like I'm floating through sludge...desperately trying not to get pulled under for good.
"Mom, what will we do after tomorrow?"
"I don't know, babe...I just don't know."
Sometimes the ache is so tangible...like my entire body will cave in. The sorrow fills up my throat and chest in such a way that I wonder how people around me aren't being pushed away. I shake my head with fury and give way to gut-wrenching sobs.
I know the truth...Christians need not fear death because Christ has overcome the grave. I don't fear death...but I'd really like to give it a swift kick in the behind. Now before you go all Billy Graham on me, I truly believe Zoe is with Jesus this very minute, and I'm so very thankful she sporting the pinkest skin you've ever seen and is running so fast, the angels can't keep up! I find some level of comfort from these foundational truths.
I can't, however, come to grips with the fact that she is gone. No more yelling at Zane for messing with her stuff...no more running from the other kids, screaming with laughter. No more reading "No No, David!" No more Zoe/Momma hugs and secrets. No more convincing Zane that something's not scary because he saw Zoe do it first. No more birthdays for Zoe Lynn Carr.
Gotta tell ya...I'm not okay with this. I desperately want her back. In the most bizarre ways, it felt like she'd been part of our family for her entire 3 years. She was so happy. She laughed and sang all the time. She trusted us completely and loved us all wholeheartedly...and we felt the same about her.
Some have suggested that we knew this was coming. Given her heart condition, it was a long-shot at best. It was a super long road, full of pot holes the size of Texas. It was shaky ground on the most solid of days. But I tell you right now...I was shocked to my core when they told us she wasn't going to make it. I completely expected God to heal her, whether supernaturally or through the medical team and procedures she had at the U.
"Expecting a miracle,"...that's what we always said. We knew He could do it...no doubt. I thought I understood the sacrifice we were called to make. But we are at a whole other level of sacrifice here...very unexpected and very bitter-tasting.
I'm still desperately clinging to the promises of Christ, knowing that He is working even this situation out for our good and His glory.
I just wish His plan would've included Zoe remaining in my arms...I was giving Him the glory then too.
But as I mentioned in my last post, God's ways are higher and greater than anything I could imagine. Perhaps He can do even more incredible things through her death than through her life. I sincerely pray my grief does not get in the way of that.
"All of my life...in every season, You are still God. I have a reason to sing. I have a reason to worship."
I have remained largely silent since my last blog post on Friday evening, and it wasn't because I thought we were on a break. :) There simply were no words. There still aren't, but it's difficult for me to be quiet...even if what I'm saying is drivel. I also remembered that those cavemen/women without Facebook were most assuredly missing the 411. SO...here we are.
Late Friday evening, our sweet Zoe went running into the arms of Jesus. Her poor little body couldn't withstand one more thing. She was in her 2nd high-risk heart surgery, and it was just too much. They'd already equipped her with the Berlin heart device, had added a shunt to aid in the flow to the lungs, and were planning on adding an oxygenator to the device should her lungs not be able to function at full capacity due to the issues she'd developed there. Surprisingly, Zoe's blood pressure wasn't able to stay within functioning parameters, and every time the doctors would try to remove her from the bypass, her pressures would plummet. They really couldn't figure out why this would happen and were certain that there were even further issues with Zoe's anatomy that they'd not yet learned that were causing the problem. Therefore, in spite of every effort known to man, our sweet angel was no more.
With tears in their eyes, the doctors told us that it appeared that nothing would've ever worked, given the apparent systemic problems that had gone undetected. In the end, it wasn't her heart...it wasn't her lungs...it was more likely, too much damage over too long a period of time. Ultimately, it was God's plan.
It's surreal. I'm sitting in my living room at 1am, writing you this little note...a room that was full a few hours ago with family and friends that have gathered to celebrate Zoe's life. The outpouring of love and compassion from our family and friends has been unbelievable. We are so thankful for each word said and each prayer lifted on our behalf.
But is this really happening?!? The last two days have been filled with horrors that no one...especially no parent...should ever have to endure. Choosing caskets, picking cemeteries, choosing plots, picking out clothes for burial, deciding what special things to include in the casket, trying to choose what to wear to the funeral of your sweet baby who loved bright colors...this cannot be real.
People keep telling me when to eat and sleep. We're planning services, picking music, caring for our other children...trying to be sensitive to their need for normalcy when the death of the innocent smacks you square in the gut...I don't want to do this. I want to go back in time...back before it was hard to keep breathing. I feel like I'm floating through sludge...desperately trying not to get pulled under for good.
"Mom, what will we do after tomorrow?"
"I don't know, babe...I just don't know."
Sometimes the ache is so tangible...like my entire body will cave in. The sorrow fills up my throat and chest in such a way that I wonder how people around me aren't being pushed away. I shake my head with fury and give way to gut-wrenching sobs.
I know the truth...Christians need not fear death because Christ has overcome the grave. I don't fear death...but I'd really like to give it a swift kick in the behind. Now before you go all Billy Graham on me, I truly believe Zoe is with Jesus this very minute, and I'm so very thankful she sporting the pinkest skin you've ever seen and is running so fast, the angels can't keep up! I find some level of comfort from these foundational truths.
I can't, however, come to grips with the fact that she is gone. No more yelling at Zane for messing with her stuff...no more running from the other kids, screaming with laughter. No more reading "No No, David!" No more Zoe/Momma hugs and secrets. No more convincing Zane that something's not scary because he saw Zoe do it first. No more birthdays for Zoe Lynn Carr.
Gotta tell ya...I'm not okay with this. I desperately want her back. In the most bizarre ways, it felt like she'd been part of our family for her entire 3 years. She was so happy. She laughed and sang all the time. She trusted us completely and loved us all wholeheartedly...and we felt the same about her.
Some have suggested that we knew this was coming. Given her heart condition, it was a long-shot at best. It was a super long road, full of pot holes the size of Texas. It was shaky ground on the most solid of days. But I tell you right now...I was shocked to my core when they told us she wasn't going to make it. I completely expected God to heal her, whether supernaturally or through the medical team and procedures she had at the U.
"Expecting a miracle,"...that's what we always said. We knew He could do it...no doubt. I thought I understood the sacrifice we were called to make. But we are at a whole other level of sacrifice here...very unexpected and very bitter-tasting.
I'm still desperately clinging to the promises of Christ, knowing that He is working even this situation out for our good and His glory.
I just wish His plan would've included Zoe remaining in my arms...I was giving Him the glory then too.
But as I mentioned in my last post, God's ways are higher and greater than anything I could imagine. Perhaps He can do even more incredible things through her death than through her life. I sincerely pray my grief does not get in the way of that.
"All of my life...in every season, You are still God. I have a reason to sing. I have a reason to worship."
