To love and be loved in return.

The other day, as my husband and I braved the crowds Christmas shopping, a woman with the "December frantic" look on her face, slammed her cart into mine as she rounded the corner. She was moving so rapidly, there was enough force to bump my shopping cart into my pregnant stomach. In my "accidents happen" reaction, I started to move the cart closer to the shelves trying to give the shopper more space to glide freely down the isle. Before I could courtiously do so, ignorantly expecting your typical polite reaction exchanged between two strangers, the woman scraped her cart down the side of mine too impatient and caught up in her own life to show decency to another human being. And when the pure shock lifted from me, my heart hurt.

As a Christian, I celebrate Christmas. I choose to believe that "for God so loved the world, he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." (-John 3:16) I openly chose to, as some would say, put all my faith in something that cannot be seen. And however you feel about me based on my decisions I can live with that. If you would rather hear "Happy Holidays" over "Merry Christmas," that is just as much your prerogative as it is mine to choose Jesus Christ as my Lord and savior. But this blog post is not me defending my faith or religion. This post is not about my Christmas and your Holiday.

I don't know all there is to know about other religions. I don't know details about atheism, buddhism, muslim, or being jewish and celebrating hanukkah. Aside from the separations between my Christianity and any of the above preferences, I do not see why mankind is so incapable of love. Regardless of differences. Regardless of religion. Especially this time of year. No matter what we are choosing to celebrate.

I sat wrapping presents yesterday as my little ones sat watching "Mickey's Once Upon a Christmas." A child's cartoon teaches something so simple that most humans have lost sight of. Donald Duck gave his nephews a Christmas card that read,

"Christmas isn't about candy canes, holly, or lights all aglow,

its about the lives that we touch and the care that we show."

I have experienced it now. The unknown first year. We endured all of the traditional holidays. The first year through grief, for me, was not only about healing and growing, it was also about learning. As a mother burying her child, you have to learn to walk all over again. One baby step at a time. You have to learn how to go about your daily life with a permanent absence. You have to learn how to celebrate these holidays minus one. And you have to learn to accept the crulety in the world when they acknowledge the sweet life you cherish, in a dark and cynical manner.

A very strong and beautiful friend of mine today, once again, held her head high today as she defended her two sons. She proudly display's pictures of them on her desk at work. Both born premature, one little man in heaven, one special needs sweetheart here with her. A co-worker, also a new employee walked by her desk and one of the pictures caught the woman's eye. As if these pictures were the most offensive thing she would see all day, she asked in disgust, "Is THAT your baby? Oh my gosh, WHAT is wrong with him!"

I now know mothers of loss. But I know mothers of special needs as well. They face the same disturbed reaction, that we who carry death around with us do. If not more. We can disclose the information. Our babies are always there, but not viewable to all.

And just in the same way people can bump into you and neglect to offer a simple apology, people can be judgmental, rude, and harsh. Mothers proudly take their special needs children with them everywhere. And I would do the exact same. Whether the world has lost sight of love and compassion or not.

A family member of mine, will not come around me. Not only are they angry of the death of Savannah, the life of Davis has only succeeded in making the bitterness worse. Since I lost one, this precious boy, is only viewed through death's eyes for this family member. I see women choose to have babies after the heartache of tragedy everyday. I know I will have to experience the first year all over again, yet in a different way. I will see the milestones. I will have the little one at the holidays. And all over again, I will have to experience this change, minus one. But that IS what Christmas, or "this holiday" means.

A love SO strong,

a parent would sacrifice everything. 

In the end, 

loving someone,

is the greatest gift of all. 

Perspective.

I remember way back when I was pregnant with Sarah. Every milestone was new, exciting, foreign. With each passing pregnancy, things were still exciting; but they were no longer foreign.

I cannot speak for every mother, but my own views are sometimes different than others on this journey of loss, or as I like to call it now, life after loss. Which I feel is okay. I am only one person and by no means is grief of a child something that can or should be judged or dictated by someone else.

For me though, this pregnancy is far different that the rest. All over again, I feel like I am a first time mother. Not in the sense my Sarah, my Michael, or my Brody are now insignificant or are no longer deemed "my children," but a first time mother because my Savannah brought forth her own set of new and foreign experiences.

I'm not sure if you'd call it grief. I'm not sure if you'd call it uncertainty. I'm just plain and simple not sure what it is, but I'm not sure how to be a mother to an infant again...

Today marks the twenty fifth week of this pregnancy. With only fifteen weeks until we meet Davis in person, I wonder to myself, "where did this pregnancy go?" I've been the pregnant mother who complains about being uncomfortable. Wishing the baby would just "hurry up and get here." And though I may complain about the temperature, or whine mention that my pelvic bone pops with each and every step, the thought of the next fifteen weeks passing as quickly as the twenty five in our rear view mirror, is enough to bring me to tears. Because right here in this moment, Davis is at home. Davis is safe. These moments are how I got to mother a different child. After this moment? This is what I cannot remember.

We are now the proud owners of our very first mini van. With thanks to my dad for searching it out, we, once more, have an automobile that fits our family. Now having moved into our new house, and buying the not so "mini" family "van," I couldn't help but hit a brick wall.

"What will it be like to bring a baby to their new home? What will it be like to buckle the car seat into those extra seats bought just for their anticipation? What will those final moments in labor and delivery feel like?" The upcoming emotions, I have tried running through my head again and again.

Fear.

Facing my Fear.

Yesterday I let Sarah and Michael watch a movie I found to be deeply inspiring. "Soul Surfer." Here at the Fraser's I try my hardest to monitor what my kids watch on tv realizing the impact the littlest things can have on young hearts. "But Megan, isn't Soul Surfer about a young girl getting her arm bitten off by a shark?!"

YES!!

But the story is so much more than that. When I watched the movie prior to allowing the kids, it really hit home for me. I knew aside from the slightly gory shark attack, my kids could really learn something from the story offered. 

An example given in this movie; when you are really close to something it is hard to see the overall perspective.

Sarah and Michael watched the entire movie and I was delighted with the flow of questions afterwards...

Michael asked, "why did God let the shark take her arm?" Without thinking I said, "as terrible as it was, she learned in the end that God could use her to inspire people through her tragedy and though she has to live with this handicap she didn't let that stop her from doing what she loved. It's like how God took Savannah. That was a terrible thing, but if we lived in fear from experience we would have missed out on getting to have Davis."

And stepping back from perspective, I paused and thought for a moment while four brown eyes stared back at me. Again I said, as if I was speaking to myself, "we would have missed out on a really great thing."

Michael chimed in once more, "well... I still think she is just as beautiful."

In the eyes of a six year old, he still sees the beauty in what others can only see as tragedy, or mistake.

Bethany Hamilton's story is far from tragedy. Her story is yet another example of God's divine purpose for everyone. I may face my own future of uncertainties, but I know that facing my fears is only just the beginning. 

I cannot wait to see His plans for Davis.

From Savannah's story,

I know they must be pretty great.

Distractions.

A mother's life is filled with distractions. {Which then in turn lead to short term memory loss.} But that's another story, or yet another "distraction."

Lately I feel like my life has been bombarded with distractions. Savannah's upcoming birthday, pregnancy and doctors visits, three rambunctious mess makers, the moving process, {by process I mean UGGGGGGH! Anyways...} and lastly the wonderful burden blessing that is a woman's mind. Seriously if science could link not only women, but mother's thought processes to America's energy crisis, our president would actually have something he could pat himself on the back for.

I have to tell you, I wish there was a way I could shut it down. Silence it at least. I wish this pregnancy brought delightful updates and typical worries or lack there of. Last night I had a migraine. Now I'm not a "migraine" kind of girl, pregnant or not, and just thought they were excuses some women used to get out of obligations... or sex. But they're not. {Not sure about the excuse category though.} I've been pregnant a whopping five times. So far 43 1/2 months of my life or 3 years and 7 1/2 months, but who's counting? Having obviously been down this road a time or two, I'd personally say I am a baby makin' veteran. So any veteran knows headaches can be common. Normal. Just fine. 

Being I've never experienced a pregnancy migraine, I turned to good ol' Google. {Ladies:: DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.}

"Is severe migraine in 2nd trimester a sign my baby died?" 

Yeah yeah, a little extreme, but until you've lost one, you won't understand the overwhelming fear of death in not one, but two infants. For once in my life, Google has no matching results, but I did put my hands, face, and feet under the microscope checking for any sign of preeclampsia. {Love you Google.}

Besides daytime terrors such as this, the night time terrors have become a distraction. Dreams are harder to deal with because there is no concept of "reality."

In my dreams I have faced a devastating diagnoses that our little Berenstain Bear, {what my husband thinks "she" looks like} was going to be born with a congenital heart defect. CHD. 

I have faced a reoccurring dream where I am in labor and each time I am forced into the same room that Savannah was born in, only leading to another baby who never takes a breath...

Today as I was packing I began thinking of all of these distractions. And a voice deep inside told me, somewhere in the past eleven months, the hurt, anger, and worry began to silence the divine knowledge that God has already laid before me. 

-That people should not have the power to harden my heart by their own actions, and I cannot control the heart of others. {It would be nice though.}

-That people who wallow in their grief of Savannah, truly are not taking the time to know her because if they did they would only see her beautiful life, her glorious love, and the message she left behind. {Savannah was chosen and sent to her mommy and daddy. If I could have saved her, I WOULD NOT be here today. I wouldn't have hesitated long enough to have said goodbye to anyone. I would not have wanted anyone to regret her life being here in place of mine, so I've learned she does not want us living in sadness or regret either.}

-God had also told me, on numerous occasions, Savannah's life was not a tragedy. Through her short life and her condition, her soul exists. That is the most important part of Savannah. Not her unformed diaphragm. Not the grief people felt for her absence. But that her soul is real. I'd repeat the the known outcome a million times to create her beautiful spirit.  Yesterday He comforted me in something that has haunted me through people's unknowing outspoken thoughts. 

She was not, nor was she ever tortured. Savannah did not feel pain, and we were not selfish in keeping her alive. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but thoughts such as these should really be kept to yourself. Life is bumpy. We gave her every medical opportunity to stay, but in the end Savannah and God revealed that she was our blessed visitor. And God is helping me now, to lift the burden of the words spoken,

"Savannah lived a torturous life."

He gave us His little girl to love. And we did. Though her life was grim from the beginning, and we knew she was not meant for our arms, we remained hopeful. Being hopeful, even if she had a one percent chance, isn't naive. It's called Faith. Even though Savannah did not stand a chance, we had Faith that God can and does perform miracles. So He didn't. Not in "that" way. He never meant for us to blame ourselves. 

I will refuse to believe that I selfishly tortured my daughter. I did exactly as God wished. I fought for her, I loved her, I drew nearer to Him, and I had Faith. I chose, in a time of weakness, to stand up and fight for HER. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. Because as a mother that is what I should have done. It was not about me. I relinquished my control into the hands of the very best doctors, nurses, and surgeons. In the end, there was no control of the power here, and I relinquished her to her original purpose. But I never gave up. For someone to have people fight so passionately, I cannot fathom how their life could be torture. In eight days, Savannah experienced true love. A love some children never get to experience in their entire "healthy" lives. In our babies final moments, as she tried to stay for as long as possible, I repeated over and over again, "just go home Savannah, mommy and daddy will be just fine, you can go now." When it came down to our goodbyes, I did NOT keep her here, and her mommy told her, it was okay to go... Even as my heart sat breaking, I comforted my daughter.

In this realization, it brought me to an acceptance. I have Faith. You may read this and not agree with me, and that is okay. Someone who feels those things that I described, may not know how comforting a real Faith can be. In the end does it matter to you what I chose to believe to get me through this life?

I'll have Faith that my Sarah, Michael, and Brody will live full and healthy lives. I will have Faith that Savannah is safe in heaven, and that she knows I loved her and thought only of her during her brief life. And I will have Faith that this pregnancy and baby will be born healthy and live to see not only one but, one hundred birthday's.

And if all these things don't go according to my hopes and prayers; 

I will have Faith.

Because my Faith is so much stronger

than my heartaches and my distractions.

Now... What do you think?

It is far from simple.

This new life? It is far from simple. Being pregnant again is far from simple. Saturday makes me approximately six weeks pregnant. I won't be sure exactly when my due date is, until we go have our early ultrasound appointment in just a few short weeks. This is a journey I am desperately trying to take one day at a time.

In the back of my mind, I find myself constantly throwing myself at the feet of God. "You wouldn't ask me to give another back would you? How could I possibly prepare my mind, my heart for that possibility? Please, I am begging, don't make me give this one back.  "

Deep in my soul, I feel Him telling me it's going to be okay. But is it going to be okay in the sense, this baby will stay, or will it be okay in the same way that He held us through Savannah's heavenly arrival? This I don't know. But everyday I choose to believe that everything will be okay.

But I know too much now. I know too much about infant death. I know too much about congenital defects. I know too much about miscarriages, preterm labor, stillbirths and sudden infant death syndrome. I want it to go away. I want to go back to the time that I didn't know too much. When I didn't know anything. And what I did know, was only under the "it would never happen to me" illusion. Please make it go away.

Right now I know, in just two to four weeks I will have a baby with either a formed or an unformed diaphragm. And it is terrifying. As mother's we want to heal. We want to fix. We want to nurture, protect, and love our children. And while we think, taking our vitamins, eating healthy, and taking care of our bodies is enough, I know it isn't. Because I live in this new life.

But I believe. I believe that while I do everything in my power to make it all okay, He will step in with whatever divine purpose He withholds from us for our future. Only one person, has the power to make it all okay. Everyday on my knees, I am thankful for another day closer to the beautiful sound of a crying baby.

"I can do all things, through Christ who gives me strength. "

                                                                     -Philippians 4:13

 

Heaven is for Real.

Last weekend my mother brought me a book. I had heard of the book in my "CBD " or "Christian Book Distributors " catalogs. And here she was handing me a physical copy of the book that had crossed my path on numerous occasions. She gave one to my sister-in-law as well, and like a small child in a candy store, my mom couldn't wait for me to dive into the pages face first. {Mom had already finished the book in a day.} My sweet sister-in-law, Desirae {"Hi Des!"} finished the book a few days ago as well, as I had yet to make my way through the first page. In complete anxiousness for me to read the book, yesterday morning while on the phone, my mom asked again, if I had started the book. I told her that I had begun to per sue it one evening, but with the chaos of life, hadn't made it through the first page. Yesterday afternoon, for my mom, I started the book.

"Heaven is for Real ."

Written by Todd Burpo

 If you haven't read or heard of the book, it is about three year old "Colton Burpo's" stories of his brief visit to Heaven, while undergoing an emergency appendectomy.

I literally lounged on the couch for hours reading page after page. About half way through the book, my mind and heart were heavy. I was beginning to feel upset as I read page after page, of what Colton's father described, while him and his wife, Sonja, clung onto prayer and hope in the hospital. All while they knew their precious boy may or may not make it out alive. I put the book down, trying to regain my strength. But I couldn't. It was as though, through their trial during Colton's hospital stay, they were writing directly from what our hearts had experienced with Savannah. I broke down in tears. It was as though our time as UC Davis was fresh all over again. Koady sat on the floor next to me as I cried.

"I know that I haven't reached the point in this story where this little boy talks about Heaven. " I sobbed through my words. "But I can't help but read what his parents went through and think, the end of this story will be different than ours.... Their child lived to tell his story about making it to heaven ."

Needless to say, I put the book down for the rest of the day, because I had to step away from the wound. This morning with a little more courage, I sat down to finish the beautiful story I had started.

Mr. Colton shares many breathtaking and surreal events and biblical, factual, descriptions about his "three minutes " in heaven. He talks about spending time with his Great grandpa, and meeting his sister, whom his parents lost in a miscarriage, yet never spoke to him about. He speaks of Jesus, and how his eyes were so pretty. And like my Michael, speaks of the swords in heaven used to keep Satan out. It is a story I would recommend to anyone, especially anyone with doubts about heaven, and the existence of Christ. Or anyone looking for a beautifully touching story.

Most importantly this is a book I would recommend to any mother who has said goodbye to a child. Through the words of a three through six year old, it very possibly can bring comfort to those in question of whether your little ones are safe. Whether they are happy. Whether they are well loved, and well taken care of...

"It's okay, Mommy," he said.  "She's okay. God adopted her ."

Sonja slid off the couch and knelt down in front of Colton

so she could see his eyes.

"Don't you mean Jesus adopted her?" She said.

"No mommy. His dad did. "

                                  

                                                 {Page 95- Heaven is for Real.}

Thank you mom, for sharing.

A road once traveled.

We weren't gonna tell. We were going to keep it secret. But here's the things with bottling things up inside for me. I begin to feel like a bottle of soda, half full, shaken with no where for the explosive carbonation to go. The only way to get rid of the pressure of that bottle, is to twist the cap and slowly release what is kept on the inside.

May 25th, 2011 my alarm woke me up as it does every morning. I couldn't wait any longer. I jumped out of bed and rushed to the down stairs bathroom, and ripped open the foil like packaging. Instantly, two blue lines crossed each other. I was finally staring at a positive pregnancy test, that I have been waiting for, for what seems like years. Even though it really hasn't been that long.

I took the test up to my husband, and once again made him look at a home pregnancy test through half groggy eyes. In denial, he wouldn't believe it unless I took a digital pregnancy test. {Men, they have to see everything in black and white.} So after taking Sarah to school, I stopped at the grocery store and bought the fancy digital pregnancy tests.

"Pregnant." 

There was the clear answer he was looking for. And he finally believed it. I believe that this is the baby that we have been waiting so long for... the baby that isn't just born into our hearts, but into our home as well.

The past few days, I cannot help but think about the day of Savannah's birth. How I couldn't wait to hold her, touch her, breathe her in. In an instant, truly an instant, Savannah was gone. I picture the day of this baby's birth. I have overwhelming feelings about it. I've birthed children before. But I have never birthed a child after birthing a child that was stripped from my arms. As Savannah laid there at the end of my bed, I said outloud, "it's a girl." In fear that she would possibly be a "pink wearing" boy. This time I cannot even imagine that being on my mind.

Pushing might be a terrifying moment, one that will require ever ounce of strength I have to get through. "Just breathe. Please just breathe. Fill your lungs with precious life. Breathe!" And even though that day is a long nine months away from us, just thinking about holding another brings tears to my eyes. Even as I type this. For anyone in witness to his or her upcoming birth, they will be experiencing the most beautiful and heartbreaking moment a life could endure. The happiness of life, the tears of a longing. Because without a doubt in my mind, our next child will be born into tears. Savannah, though her life was tragic, was born into laughter. It was meant to be. Happiness and laughter just for her. This baby though, this baby will bring tears to everyone in the room. I think there is a chance that even Savannah's doctor might well up with tears.

Tears of joy. Tears of sorrow.

Tears of life. Tears of death.

{Don't judge! This after all is my fifth pregnancy!}

 

February 1st, 2012.

250 days and counting...

The day after tomorrow.

Supposedly, in case you hadn't heard, tomorrow marks the end of the world. *Giggles* An evangelist has claimed tomorrow marks the day of the rapture. (He also claimed this twice before.) I hadn't heard of this so called, "mark your calendar" event till yesterday.

Here's the catch though. People are actually concerned for this so called "prophecy."

I'd like to ask, "why exactly?"

And there are so many different questions I would love to have answered as to why...

• 1.  To believe anything that this "evangelist" claims, is to step towards religious topic. If you are going to base the end of the world by "religious topic" it is best to get your facts straight. The rapture is biblical truth. Yes it will happen. It is a real event that will take place in the future. 

           BUT... (AND MAKE SURE YOU LISTEN) In reference to the "apocalypse, revelation, the coming of  Christ, or the rapture" based on biblical truths, here is where I wonder where this "Evangelist" got his facts.

"No one knows about that day or hour, 

not even the angels in heaven, 

nor the Son, but only the Father ."

                                            -Mark 13:32

{But ONLY the Father.}

• 2.  The Rapture. He claims the Rapture is coming tomorrow. How many people (the people in panic mode) can even describe the definition.

The Rapture::

When Christian's are gathered to meet Christ, in heaven.

"...Then we who are alive and remain 

shall be caught up together with them 

in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. 

And thus we shall always be with the Lord."

                                                         - 1 Thessalonians 4:17

 So... if it was the rapture, why would you be concerned unless you know that you will not be meeting Christ in heaven. 

• 3. I would be more than happy to go tomorrow. Sadly, with these facts, NO the end of the world is not coming tomorrow. But if it does, I would not spend my last moments in fear, but rather excitement over the thought of joining my precious baby girl in heaven for eternity.  

 My prayers and wishes for all of my readers, is that you all have the same understandings. It's not too late. After all we are never guaranteed another day. Especially not if you talk to a so called Evangelist. ;)

Growing away from my very eyes.

My sweet little one,

Your eight month mark falls a day short of Easter this year. Every month that passes I am greeted with the familiar feeling of, "wow I can't believe you would be that old now."

Easter and Christmas are mommies favorite holidays. And though I wished I could hold you through out your first Christmas, and even though I wish you could crawl right through our Easter Sunday celebrations tomorrow, I am so thankful for these holidays. These holidays, though they are filled with your void, remind me so much of the promise of where you are... why you are there...

Tomorrow morning, Savannah, please hug Him for me. Tell Him I shed tears over His tragic death. But I shed tears for the hope we have because He stood again. Every year Easter reminds mommy of all He sacrificed for us. This year... the tears fall because it means even more to my heart. Granted we will be with you again someday baby girl... mommy, daddy, and your brothers and sister are still here. This year for Easter, Christ's blood was spilled so you sweetheart, would feel no more pain. So your lungs could be filled with His sweet life. There are no more teary eyes, or medical hurdles you have to cross. All because of His cross.

I miss you little girl. Have the best Easter ever. Know that my heart will be with you tomorrow.

-Mommy

Eternal Life.

My children wear me out sometimes.

I try to guide them with instruction and love, but sometimes no matter how many times you tell them something, they may still make mistakes. Sometimes my children frustrate me. Sometimes my children disappoint me. Sometimes I wonder if I've done anything right.

But I love them. 

Deeply. 

Unconditionally. 

Even when I am worn out. Even when I tell them something may times, and they still make mistakes. Even when they frustrate me. Even when they disappoint me. Even when I worry that I'm not doing anything right.

I heard recently a parent {who's children were grown} say, "every parent says, I just want my Children to be happy. But it's a lie. Every parent wants their child to be happy being successful." I may only have tiny tots at home still, but I don't believe that statement has to be a lie. I believe that if you raise your children right, your children will be successful in many different aspects of their lives. To raise a child in the light of the Lord, sheds light on everything they will need to be able to build a life for themselves outside of our home. Success to me is more than just money, it's being a decent person. A person who isn't lazy. A Person whom makes smart decisions. A person who cares for others more than themselves. A person who loves.

As Brody, Michael, and I made a trip to the grocery store earlier last week, it hit me. To truly love... a love like Christ has for us... we must sacrifice. I believe the role of a mother, is a similar being to our Lord, Jesus Christ. We stood outside of that grocery store, waiting to make our way across the parking lot. Hand in hand, we stepped out into the crosswalk before a lady came speeding around the corner. Quickly I pulled my children to the side and stepped in front of them,  anticipating the idea, that she was not going to stop. She slammed on her breaks before waving us through, in a irritated manner. When we got the the car, safe and sound, I sat there a moment thinking about my motherly reaction.

In an instant, without a second to think, I placed my body in front of theirs as though it would work as a protection shield. This obviously wasn't reasonable, since my body would not actually stop the car from possibly doing them harm. But a mother's love is sacrificial. Just as Jesus' life was for us. So many mothers loose their babies, their children, everyday. Of every mother I know who has lost a baby not one of them hasn't said they wouldn't take their childs place. They would make that sacrifice to save their child. 


April. A month for remembering, and being thankful for what Christ gave for us. He laid down his life so we could be saved. He knew what the outcome on earth would prevail. He knew His death was imminent. But in an instant, without hesitation, without regards, 

He came,

He sacrificed, 

He died, 

He rose again. 

Every Easter Sunday, we are reminded of how deep a father's love truly is. God's love for us extends far greater than the love we could slightly begin to understand with our own children. The Lord made many promises. But He never promised our lives would be easy. He never said, that with Him there would never be pain. That there would never be heartache. There would never be struggles. He said,  "through Him we would conquer." {Romans 8:37} 

The resurrection gives my life meaning and direction...

and the opportunity to start over no matter what my circumstances. 

                                                                                      ~Robert Flatt

Lives that never get a chance.

This subject has been on the front of my mind for quite a few months now. Night before last, as though God was trying to push me into writing a blog on those feelings, my husband told me something that was more than startling. It was horrifying.

Here at A Story Unfolding, I feel as though there are beliefs I have that alienate some readers or may aggravate people of opposite views. So in hesitation to writing this blog, I understand that I may upset someone or possibly loose viewers. With that being said, being I was a 16year old mother, and a mother who has also buried a child, I feel I am more than qualified to say what I am about to say...

Recently at an Abortion Clinic in the country we've become so proud to demolish, a young girl went in to receive what is known as the "kill pill." The FDA approved medical abortion pill "Misoprostol," which causes contractions to induce labor for women, is given after an initial pill is taken, "mifepristone." The young girl, was unaware of how far along she was, and after a "guessed" due date, was given the abortion pills. She delivered a full term, still born baby a few days later.

This is heartbreaking.  Maybe to some out there, this doesn't effect them. But my heart aches. I am sure many people in the world might retort by saying, "these young mothers deserve a chance." But I've been a teenage mother. I have put my blood sweat and tears into what others flush away.
Look at the beautiful girl she is growing into...

If those women could see a picture like this of their unborn child, would they still feel the same way? If they wanted their babies, yet death was unavoidable would saving a life be a little less taken for granted? Had I been eight weeks pregnant with Savannah and was told "your unborn baby has a Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia and a zero percent chance of survival," I would have still carried her to term. I would have one hundred more babies all with CDH if God gives me the chance to see their precious faces. To love them, and hold them. To give them every chance in the world.

I'm not saying you have to keep the baby, for there are so many families out there who cannot receive such a beautiful gift for so many different reasons. A new law is trying to be passed in some states. Adoption only. Making it illegal to perform abortions, and if you do not want your baby, adoption is the only option. I see nothing wrong with this.

3,700 abortions are performed in the United States everyday. 

That's 154 every hour, or 2 every minute! 

{http://www.abortionno.org/Resources/fastfacts.html}

Babies that were NOT wanted.

SIDS alone takes 7,000 babies a year.
583 a month, almost 1 baby an hour.
 {http://www.sids-network.org/facts.htm}

Still not as much as abortions,
But keep in mind that is JUST SIDS!
That isn't including Congenital Defects,
Prematurity, and many many other occurances.

Multiply that by three...

Because these babies WERE wanted.
So with every baby lost,
there is a mother and father crying over a casket.

The answer is not always black and white.

Eventually life will bring so much color to you.

I've talked with some of the ladies at the local Crisis Pregnancy Center here in town, and have offered to share Savannah's Story and Video with any ladies considering, "the easy route." With any luck Savannah could go on to save ones, like her, with no voice...

{Spread the word.}

Family is so much more.

We've talked recently about moving. Not moving up the street or across town. Moving two thousand miles away from our the life we call home now. My husband's job was kind of pushing him towards taking a position they needed filled in Peoria Illinois.

Now if you know us personally, you would know that the Fraser's are not strangers to cross country moves. We've done it once. Or twice. {Or Four times...}

We spent quite awhile considering it. Although I was hesitant to pack our life into boxes, and uproot our family to a new state, I was also really wanting the opportunity for change. I wasn't sure what it was I was wanting to change exactly though.

Recently we decided that we are not going to move to Illinois, though my husband got quite a chuckle in informing our family and friends we were in fact moving three weeks from now in celebration of April Fools Day.

My mother-in-law didn't find the same humor in this, because she lives in Kentucky and would be a mere seven hours away from us. Which is a far more convenient trip, compared to the five day drive or plane ticket purchase. So when her heart was lifted at the thought of us being so close to her, we did have to break the news that no, we weren't coming. {In my defense I told Koady he should go with a different April Fools joke.}

We had a friend over for dinner this last Sunday. Seems God always sends people to us at just the right moments in time. We realized that family doesn't have to be blood related. This is something that we haven't been seeing. It was amazing to have someone over to our house for fellowship. We shared stories. The kids were beside themselves and fawned over our guest the entire visit. We sat around the dinner table talking about the intimate details of our lives. Both ours and his. I have to say, my heart has not been graced with anyone... anyone... willing and open to discuss Savannah. And by discuss Savannah, I don't mean we do all the talking. I mean someone who also talks about her, knowing that Savannah's life isn't just past tense.  Someone that includes her in talking about "our children."  And right there at the dinner table we prayed together... And the tears streamed down my cheeks. It was so nice to have someone else that deeply cared for our emotions. Deeply cared about us.

You may be given a family that you cannot impress.

You may have a father that is incapable of caring

about anything but himself.

You may have family members that say they care,

but are never around.

But then you have the family

that God places in your path

all throughout your life.

And you know that your family, 

will always be where ever you are.

This was the change I was looking for.
And we didn't have to move 2,000miles to find it.

Similarities.

Springtime I believe, is finally here. A time of growth. A time of renewal. A time of rebirth. A wonderful reminder for us mommies who have ever lost a child. That even through the harshest conditions, another beautiful sunset is awaiting us in the future. A beautiful flower will blossom up from the cold frozen ground.

Today was the first morning, there wasn't a crisp winter feeling in the air when I stepped outside to take Sarah to school. The sky was still radiating from the initial wave of sunlight. Almost instantly, my arms and cheeks were warmed from the sun gleaming down upon us. But the air was still cool. I looked around at all of the trees producing vibrant green buds. Life was overflowing from their bleak branches. And suddenly, as smells can take you back to another place and time, it smelled just as it did at the end of August, beginning of September.

I took my time as I walked to the car. So familiar. So similar. If I closed my eyes I could picture that first week of school, still pregnant with her, while walking my kids to class. I could picture the first morning visits to the hospital room after going all night not having seen our beautiful girl. I could picture early morning preparations for a princesses funeral.

Spring offers so much hope. So much promise. Promise that we will grow and strive even after the rough months. Now, spring offers little reminders of Savannah as well.

Reminders that she too was reborn...

Just like the delicate pink rose buds;

she bloomed from her own trials and tribulations.

If that's what it takes to praise you.

"Bring me joy, bring me peace,

bring the chance to be free,

bring me anything that brings you Glory.

And I know there'll be days when this life brings me pain,

But if that's what it takes to Praise you,

Jesus Bring the Rain."

Yes, this has been done once before. It's a little cliche. Angie Smith writes her blog, "Bring the Rain" from her own journey through child loss. But as cliche as it may sound, {using the chorus from the same song that inspired her blog title} as one christian angel mommy to the next... this song sums up exactly how we get through trials like this. Life without Savannah isn't easy, but from the bottom of my heart {a heart that really does praise Him through this} I still say, "Jesus Bring the Rain." This pain on earth will never measure up to the glory that awaits us through Him.

I have been asked this question. {Let me tell you, it is a devastating question to be asked.}

"Is something wrong with you?"

It is a hurtful question, but a question I feel a lot of women want to know. It is a hurtful question because I feel in my peace, and comfort through the loss of Savannah, people wonder if I ever really loved her at all. Because my heart doesn't ache to the point of world altering recognition, I must not have wanted her. I must not have bonded with her. I must not care. I've also been told, "that I didn't deserve her." 

I want to point something else out. I have met some wonderful women through this. Each who grieve differently. I don't judge, criticize, or try and fix anything. In the death of a child there aren't any fixes. I am there for each one of these empty mothers. I listen. I understand. I root, cheer, and encourage. Whether they are crying, laughing, or yelling on facebook. {Aren't we all notorious for letting our feelings out there on facebook?} Because that is the best medicine.  Support. Cheering. Empathy. Encouragement.

You wanna yell?

I will cheer you on.

Yell for the memory of your baby!

 You wanna cry? 

I will silently sit and carry your sorrows.

I will pray for the mother that can't hold her baby.

 You wanna laugh? 

Well... let's just say, I can make anyone laugh!

And if you have an unmeasurable faith in God?

I will never assume you didn't love your child.

I would never say you didn't deserve them.

After Savannah's funeral, I did go through my own stage of grief. This was ::frustration::. I know I spoke casually and briefly about this feeling in the first few months. Slowly the frustration I was feeling slowly subsided and I was able to express my emotions to some of the people who were causing these struggles. The other day, a feeling that I haven't felt since before Savannah's funeral resurfaced. And my heart ached to the point of feeling like I could no longer express myself. My thoughts were jumbled again, and I... in all honesty... just wanted to scream. I wanted to sit down with every family member and friend that I have and tell them exactly what my thoughts and feelings are with giving Savannah back. But I couldn't. I can't. I cannot gather everyone. I couldn't in that moment express exactly what I was feeling. Then in that moment, I was the grieving mother that announced my imploding and heavy heart emotions on... facebook. 

And there they were. The same girls I would be there for, in the reverse situation. Grieving mothers. And mother's who reached out to me when I started writing this farewell, and have grabbed onto my heart and will never let go. They cheered me on and talked me through, yet again, my frustration. 

And in this process the other day, those women helped me heal. They didn't tell me I was lashing out... They didn't say I shouldn't feel that way... They didn't try and direct my emotions elsewhere. They encouraged. They cheered. They held onto my sorrow with their warrior strength, until I was ready to let go. And in doing so, I finally was able to put words into my frustration. These words I feel need to be expressed here. Because in this journey that I am documenting... this frustration was my grief.

Obviously, my husband and I have not withheld the fact that God is the center of our life. In this, we feel and believe that His strength got us through. His glory brought Savannah into our lives. And His purpose brought her home. I don't care if you believe this or not. And I mean that in the nicest way possible. This is what we believe. This is what trust. And this is what we are instilling in our children. In her days on earth, Savannah was brought to know Him. We fulfilled our roles as her parents, and in that I am so proud. We did not cry while we held her during her final hour. We laughed throughout the story daddy shared as we mentioned silly things such as, "we don't know why we moved across the United States a second time." We came home that same night, and were greeted by concerned family members. We showed them her beautiful handprints, footprints, and hairclippings. We took our Savannah smelling blankets up to bed and went right to sleep. Yes, the first night having just held our baby in our arms as she died, we were at such a peace, neither one of us cried ourselves to sleep. Neither one of us cried. I clung to people telling me, "it is just shock, give it time." I kept waiting, anticipating that heartache I saw and read so many people experience. Day in and day out that rain cloud never consumed me. I finally realized that God was my umbrella. He was what consumed me, and it protected my heart from feeling complete emptiness. His word promises me that I will be with my Savannah again someday. 

I am so thankful for that, and owe Him my gratitude each and everyday. He never ceases to amaze me.

Anger with God is common. I understand why some people find themselves angry at Him. I believe that He understands as well. We can't always, and sometimes never see the bigger picture in what His plans are for us. In the good things sure, but the bad things aren't always as easy. I would never try to tell a mother that she couldn't be angry with Him. That is solely between God, and the mother or father He took the child from. In our situation though, {Savannah's death} I feel NO ONE should have a right to be angry at God for her sake. And this is why.

In our family we are not the only one who carry an "angel" in front of our titles.

{Mommy and Daddy}

We have an 

angel grandpa & grandma:: angel Grammy:: 

angel Granny & Pappy.

We have angel great grandmas.

We have angel cousins, angel aunts & angel uncles.

Ofcourse we have angel brothers, 

and an angel sister.

These are the family members who also lost something. We have all been granted an "angel" in from of our names. These family members love our children. They loved Savannah. They miss her. They've cried for her. I understand their heartache from the now missing family member. But all the same, we are her parents. We created this life, this person, this beautiful baby. For anybody close to us, I don't see what they have to be angry at God for? The parents of Savannah, the ones who would see her everyday, the ones who would feed her, nurture her, and raise her, the ones who think about these children every second of everyday for the rest of their lives... lift up their arms and Praise Him. Why are other family members punishing God for the plans that have been set for each of us since time began? For something the parents accept? Understand? We all have a time set for the end of our days. Savannah's time frame was short yes, but her life, her soul, was far more important. She still got to leave a mark.

I imagine my innocent, precious Savannah holding the hand of God. All the while her family members turn away from Him in their own selfish attitudes. She tugs at His side, and looks up at Him with her big beautiful brown eyes. Her tiny, delicate voice says, "I'm sorry God, they are only angry at you because of me." And in thinking of our heavenly baby apologizing for being the cause of someones hatred towards her maker? I get a little frustrated.

My baby may be dead, yes. But that doesn't mean I am not still a protective mother, in every aspect of that word. Mother.

To me, someone being angry at God

on behalf of my Savannah?

The one whom she belongs to?

If my daughter ever had to say,

"they are only angry at you because of me?"

 She might see that her existance

caused people to be angry with 

the Lord.

And as her mother, I do not like that.

She was here.

REJOICE in that.

Be envious that it only took her eight days,

to get to live in eternal perfection.

Savannah is rocked by angels,

and kissed by the Lord.

It frustrates me,

that people can be angry that

OUR daughter,

couldn't stay.

Couldn't stay;

Here in a world of murder.

Kidnapping.

Hate.

I will protect my others the best I can.

As my guardian role from God.

 Savannah?...

Savannah I don't have to worry about.

She is safe.

But I will still protect her in my heart.

Don't say sorry Savannah.

Don't you ever be sorry.

{{Jesus Bring the Rain.}}

Gift of Love. Lifetime Devotional.

{This blog is apart of the “What love really means” inspirationals 

given by some wonderful bloggers, & wonderful women.}

“No matter what happens, 
you reside in the presence of Love.
Every breath you take fills you with 
grace and divine sustenance.
Breathe in the goodness 
and dare to believe it is so.
Love is your home.”

For those of you whom regularly follow a story unfolding, you will already know we were expecting our rainbow baby. Definition of a rainbow baby; A baby born after a baby lost. A rainbow comes at the end of every storm. But let me share something with you. Just because God shines his heavenly “promise” on the horizon, doesn’t always mean that it has stopped raining outside. We have all witnessed the vibrant colors, while cold water droplets still cascade down all around us.

Last week our hopes and dreams of another pregnancy came to a close. Atleast for the baby anticipated October 3rd. I’ve realized something through our brief rainbow journey…

The moment you experience a positive pregnancy test, you love your unborn baby. A child you are unsure whether will be a daughter or a son. A child you have never seen in person. A child you have never touched; never held. But regardless, you love them. We can love the idea of a life so very much, even if they never get to be. We also expected Savannah’s life to be healthy, long, and full. She presented us with a life “unexpected.” But we don’t count her life to be those eight short days. We loved her loooong before she was born into our physical world. When she was just a life we dreamed about.

We as humans are lovers. We are capable of loving unconditionally and fully. But also as mere humans, we are sinners. Which means our God given gift of loving others, is tainted. We all have a tendencies to be very selfish people. My husband and I have a wonderful relationship. It has always been good, but in the beginning it wasn’t as easy. Because in the beginning I was selfish. I thought that my marriage would be flawless once all my needs were met. I never stopped to consider the fact that my spouse had needs I was failing to meet as well.

Then God entered my world. Now I understand that all of my readers may not be Christians. Please, don’t stop reading just yet. I may dedicate my life to the Lord, but my advice here isn’t excluding my non believing followers either. Whether you believe it or not, God is hard at work in each and every one of our lives.

Once I began reading, studying, and memorizing my bible and bible scriptures, I realized all of my relationships hadn’t been tended and nurtured in ways that show my love in a deep, selfless manner.

Love shouldn’t and doesn’t stop with our husbands and children. Yes, aside from God, our husbands are the most important relationship in our lives. {If they aren’t you need to do some soul searching because they should be. Ladies our children even need to take a backseat to our marital relationship!} We are supposed to be extending our love and compassion to all though…. All of mankind. Just like Gandhi once said, “be the change you want to see in the world.”

Divorce rates in America are 41% for first marriages. {According to divorcerates.org} And they continue to sky rocket. There are hate crimes taking place all around us. Whether it be from hazing in schools, racism, religion, or just evil, what some might consider harmless, judgments. They are in every town. Every state. Every country. And we are all to blame. Our culture and society are a product of it’s own environment… Our judgments rather than our love.

Let’s stop and take a moment. Think back to the last negative thing you either thought, gossiped out loud, or spoke directly to someone. Those things are very easy to remember right? That is because sinful behavior, such as talking badly about someone, is our first nature.

Now… take a moment and think of the last time you stepped out of “convenience” to show true, honest love. I am talking about things that require a little more effort than a quick “love you” as you rush out the door. Gestures that require a little more effort. Though you may still find the answer to this question, lets be honest, it wasn’t as quick was it?

“Be kind and compassionate to one another,
forgiving each other,
just as Christ forgave you.”
-Ephesians 4:32

Love can be extended in the little ways. Those are good. But lets take it a little further, shall we?…

What about the little old lady struggling with her groceries in the parking lot? Sure, she may not be your mother, your grandmother. You have places to be and errands to run. But what is really preventing you from taking a few minutes to help her? Serve her? Love her?

What about your neighbors? How well do you know them, if you know them at all. Maybe you do know them very well… Why not whip up a batch of cookies and take them on over, what ever your relationship may be. What is preventing you from reaching out and loving them?

Or perhaps, you could pick up a card for your husband just to say, “I love you.” {Any other day than Valentines day of course. And it doesn’t count if you are expecting anything in return. Ever.}

These small gestures may not be acknowledged at first, but they begin to make huge impacts. I think you are catching what I am portraying…

In honor of Valentines day this year, I am asking {maybe begging a little} all of my readers to love someone… well, everyone in some unexpected way. Not just on Valentines, but throughout the year. You’ll find if you do, your own heart will soften. It will become easier for each of us to love one another, without the effort involved. It will become easier for us not to judge others based on the mud on their shoes, or the story they may carry on their shoulders. We can start a ripple in the water. After all, we can be “the light of the world.” -Matthew 5:14 

Galatians 5:13 tells us to, “serve one another in love.” By helping or serving each other, we are making a choice to love that person in that very moment. It’s not always easy since this love I am talking in reference to must be extended to our “enemies” as well. Savannah has shown me so many things. After saying goodbye to her, and saying goodbye to what we thought would be our rainbow pregnancy, I now know that life really is short.  We are only given so much time, and never guaranteed another breath. I know what it is like to, “love with a love that is more than love.” I’ve watched life slip away before my very eyes; In my very arms. A love that was taken to the grave…

So now, I want to know in my life I gave myself graciously to the best of my abilities. That I asked forgiveness in all areas that were due, and that I forgave those in my life whom deserve my divine forgiveness as well. I was forgiven by the one that I disappoint everyday. But I am also loved and cherished by the same man. I think I can choose to give these same blessings, considering I didn’t and don’t deserve them. My life may last seventy more years, or I may join my daughter tomorrow. Until then, I choose to love this life I’ve been given.

In wanting to share with you a book that helped me see the ways to “love” God, my husband, my children, and others, I welcome you to enter in my “gift of love” giveaway.

“A Woman After God’s Own Heart.”
Author: Elizabeth George

This book will share & help you with many things
including,

A heart devoted to God.
{Growth in understanding,
loving, and trusting the Lord.}

A heart that loves our husbands.
{Finding a deep commitment to
honor, love and serve your husband…
Even if your not married, this can
Help for marriage later down the road!}

A heart overflowing with motherly affection.
{Shepherding our children,
Loving our children, and caring for them.}

A heart that makes a house a home.
{Tending to our homes.
And enjoying the chores!}

A heart that cares.
{Reaching out to
encourage and love others.}

Plus much much more!!

To enter, all you have to do is either follow my blog or A Story Unfolding’s facebook fan page and leave a comment sweet nothing at the bottom of this blog, with your name and email address and which site you are following. Then, I will contact the winner via email on Valentines day! It is that simple!

::Please only submit if you are deeply interested in being
“A Woman After God’s Own Heart.”
That way others who truly want to read it, have a fair chance!::
Thank you!!

Also if your heart has been inspired to “love” this year, please share your future stories with me at megan_3457@hotmail.com!! I would love to read and share your testimonies!

…& feel free to share this challenge
with others.

One step at a time.

I was a New Year's baby. Stubborn from the very beginning. January 9th. My birthday is upon us in five short days. This year, I take a step back and think of everything I have accomplished, and those I haven't yet since God first created me. 

Every person in the world is in denial that something bad could happen to "us." It seems unreal. Seems dream like. I'm sure the day I was born my mother didn't lay in the hospital cradling me thinking to herself, "Look at my beautiful baby. I bet one day she will loose a daughter of her own." We don't think our homes will ever be robbed, our cars will ever be wrecked, our children will ever die from our arms, our dreams will ever shatter. 

But that is just it. We are dreamers. We are humans. We are resilient. Because aside from never thinking "it could happen to us," we are also realists. We have homeowners insurance, car insurance, and life insurance. In event that these things DO happen to us. 

In my life, I made more mistakes than I can possibly account for. I still make mistakes daily. But as my birthday approaches, I look at the great that my life has brought forth to the world. My husband. We acknowledge regularly that we saved each other. We are and have found what many people search lifetimes for. Soulmates. And having married my soulmate, we have created Sarah... Michael... Brody... and of course Savannah. A very important piece of my creation. 

Because even though on the day of my birth my mother didn't lay there thinking, "look at my beautiful baby. I bet one day she will loose a daughter of her own..." God was by her side thinking, "Look at my beautiful baby. One day you will loose a daughter of your very own. I am here for you now. I will be here for you then. Every step of the way, one step at a time. Never loose your faith dear child, for I promise to hold your tears in my hands. The plans I have for your life, will help change the world. You may never understand, but I need your creation, to bring forth big plans."

This year my resolutions are far deeper than in the previous years. For my life was changed in 2010. I was shown a light. Her name was Savannah. And she has set her mommy, daddy, brothers, and sister on some new paths. This year, knowing that life is short and nothing is ever guaranteed, I promise to live. 

One step at a time.

I look at everything good, every tiny ripple that has happened since Savannah passed away. Each one of those moments may have never came to existence if she hadn't altered our world.

Selfless.

Motherhood is not for the weak of heart. It begins the second you discover the little life growing within. It continues long after the grave. Whether it be ours... or theirs...

Sometimes I find myself incapable for the task that the Lord has laid before me. Every morning I wake to give all of my being to three little people selflessly. There are days I fall short of the "selfless" tasks I need to overcome.

But even with my job being harder than anything in the world, I know that my job, my title, is raising/forming/molding our future. And personally I think our futures look very bleak...

One glorious night, thousands of years ago, a Father gave himself, selflessly, to his children. He didn't have to. But he did. Out of the sheer love and devotion He always holds in his heart. He stood back to watch the devastation we brought upon ourselves. He stepped down from his thrown to save us all. That cold night, a perfect baby boy was cradled in a manger, by his loving mother. Sweet Mary. She held in her arms a piece of her heart. A child given to her by our almighty Father. A boy that will grow into a man, and that would die before her very eyes. She would one day be cradling his vacant body. A son that she would bury and mourn for. 

But a King who's life meant far more than just his tragic death. 

God knew the outcome of the life he bore to Mary, that very first Christmas. Mary was chosen for the burden God knew she would face. Though I am far from Mary, she was indeed a blessed woman, I would like to think God chose me in the same thoughtful way that he chose Mary. To bear the burden of Savannah's life unlived.

Every drop of blood shed from the tiny, innocent baby born unto us Christmas day, saved me. Saved you. Saved Savannah. 

Today, I look around at the world before me. We have yet again, brought devastation to our lives. We have destroyed the relationship between the one man, whom was born into our world to bring us peace. Give us love. Show us divine mercy. The world spits upon the feet of the maker of heaven and earth. The one whom formed us, created us, planned for us. 

I pray for our future. I will selflessly give myself to my children... to instill in them, the people we should always strive to be. Whether that makes us outcasts or not.

Merry CHRISTmas

& Happy Birthday Baby Boy

After all you can't take the CHRIST

out of Christmas.

A birthday is upon us.

Since Savannah passed, Brody Peyton will be the first birthday I celebrate since August. Now I am not saying I haven't "celebrated" for anyone, there just hasn't been anyone to celebrate close to us.

Till now. December 19th, my not so little guy will turn three years old. 

As a mother, on your children's birthdays you cannot help but think back to their births. Atleast I know I can't. Thinking back to Brody's birth this year, I can't help but think of what a different situation it was from the birth I just recently witnessed.

Five and a half hours, including pushing. Brody was "posterior," or as some call it "sunny side up." I delivered him face up, and it was the first baby I have ever had a hard time pushing out. He came into the world screaming. {Pause.}

Brody Peyton Fraser

December 19th, 2007

1:22pm

6lbs. 5oz.

19.5inches

Alive. Breathing. Screaming.

Another baby born into our arms. Our ignorant parent arms. Ignorant to the fact that in the split second a piece of heaven entered our world, our lives could have changed. In a "not new baby" kind of way. Ignorant to the fact that even though we had an entire nine months of the best possible pre-natal care, took vitamins daily, and had the "everything looks perfect" stamp from an ultrasound technician, our new baby boy whom our lives were wrapped around in that very second could suddenly, very well have been...

not okay. 

As Brody's birthday approaches. I DO find myself thinking back to his day. The very special day when he was welcomed into our arms and hearts forever. The very minute, the very life altering second that he filled his lungs with ever precious, ever delicate life. Don't take this the wrong way because I am not in any way wishing I could substitute one for the other, but what makes Brody so special that he got to stay? Or Sarah... or Michael for that matter...

When actually I should be asking...

What makes Savannah so special,

that she got to go?

Brody I am so thankful

for your healthy, 

living,

life altering,

Birth.

...which was another blessing,
because you were born in a hospital
with NO NICU.
I believe EVERY hospital should have one.
No baby is guaranteed to be "okay."