As I sit staring at this screen so desperately wanting the words to explode out of my head, my mind drifts. The impact of losing you has affect me to my very core...I am not the man I once was. Part of me is proud of what is being rebuilt from those shattered pieces of what used to be. Another part is scared and confused. Another wants to go back, but then realizes not only is that impossible, it would negate the good things that have come since. All parts, however, are still grieving. Before you died, I was sharp. I could focus. Now, it takes longer to comprehend things, longer to bring ideas to fruition. I've pressed and held the backspace button too many times tonight already...the ideas are there, but the words can't make it from my brain to my fingertips. I wish I could see you and hold you once more...I miss you...I love you.
Sophia Marie
5-29-12
Stillborn
Wednesday, January 18, 2017
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Back in black
It's been quite some time since I've written a blog, but I'm going to give it another shot.
Lately, I've been obsessed with the idea of riding my bike across the country. This has been a dream of mine for numerous years, but I never knew why until just the other day.
I remember the first time I rode a two wheeler. It was a cool summer morning in June of 1989, my dad had just taken the training wheels off of my old bike. They were probably on my bike longer than they had to be, as I rode perfectly across the street to my friends house to play. I often wonder what my dad thought as he watched me take those first unassisted pedal strokes. A few years later, I made the first major purchase of my life. At 14 years of age, using money I earned as a dishwasher for a local catering company, I bought a black Giro helmet for $50. I don't know what it was, but something about the open road and seeing the sights of my hometown under the power of my own two legs soothed my soul.
I remember applying to work at Bike Nashbar nearly every month from the age of 14 and 1/2 until they finally called me in for a job interview after I turned 16. It was there I learned why aluminum is better than steel, what the difference between a hybrid bike and comfort bike, and how clipless pedals make you a better rider. I bought my first real mountain bike, then I bought a road bike. It didn't matter much if it was dirt or pavement, riding was my outlet. I was able to deal with things like bombing a test, getting dumped by my girlfriend, the unfair life of a teenage boy but putting in miles on my bike. It was rewarding, calming, peaceful. Riding was my way to deal with all of life's problems.
I rode my bike to ease my mind. After I finished, I would unclip my pedals, take off my helmet, and run my hand through my sweaty hair. A few minutes would go by before I started over thinking things again and all the clarity brought on by my ride would be replaced by fog and confusion.
The last three years of my life have been foggy and confusing. Losing a child is devastating, and I've come to the realization that if I want to clear my head this time, it's going to take one hell of a bike ride.
I hope that the ride will help me make sense of losing Sophia. I hope it teaches me who I am now and who I still need to become not just for myself, but for my wife and living daughters.
Lately, I've been obsessed with the idea of riding my bike across the country. This has been a dream of mine for numerous years, but I never knew why until just the other day.
I remember the first time I rode a two wheeler. It was a cool summer morning in June of 1989, my dad had just taken the training wheels off of my old bike. They were probably on my bike longer than they had to be, as I rode perfectly across the street to my friends house to play. I often wonder what my dad thought as he watched me take those first unassisted pedal strokes. A few years later, I made the first major purchase of my life. At 14 years of age, using money I earned as a dishwasher for a local catering company, I bought a black Giro helmet for $50. I don't know what it was, but something about the open road and seeing the sights of my hometown under the power of my own two legs soothed my soul.
I remember applying to work at Bike Nashbar nearly every month from the age of 14 and 1/2 until they finally called me in for a job interview after I turned 16. It was there I learned why aluminum is better than steel, what the difference between a hybrid bike and comfort bike, and how clipless pedals make you a better rider. I bought my first real mountain bike, then I bought a road bike. It didn't matter much if it was dirt or pavement, riding was my outlet. I was able to deal with things like bombing a test, getting dumped by my girlfriend, the unfair life of a teenage boy but putting in miles on my bike. It was rewarding, calming, peaceful. Riding was my way to deal with all of life's problems.
I rode my bike to ease my mind. After I finished, I would unclip my pedals, take off my helmet, and run my hand through my sweaty hair. A few minutes would go by before I started over thinking things again and all the clarity brought on by my ride would be replaced by fog and confusion.
The last three years of my life have been foggy and confusing. Losing a child is devastating, and I've come to the realization that if I want to clear my head this time, it's going to take one hell of a bike ride.
I hope that the ride will help me make sense of losing Sophia. I hope it teaches me who I am now and who I still need to become not just for myself, but for my wife and living daughters.
Monday, May 12, 2014
Trying times...
Ever feel like no matter what you do, you can't just get ahead?
About two months ago, we discovered our dog was diabetic. He'd been peeing a lot in the house and had this insatiable thirst. We go to the vet, they test him, he's got ketones in his urine and his sugar is real high. So, the vet keeps him in her office (at just over $100 per day) for three days trying to figure out how much insulin he'll need to be regulated. Oh yeah, then we need to go buy insulin and needles. He has to go back every week to have his numbers checked once again. Medical bills are coming in from the birth of our rainbow baby Eliana. Two weeks ago, my wife has some pretty severe abdominal pain, I take her to the ER, she has a perforated appendix and has to have emergency surgery. She didn't recover well from the surgery, spending 3 days in the hospital. When we left, she was in more pain than before, the doc that performed the surgery says, "This is all normal, we'll see you on the 22nd for a follow up." In the mean time, we go to our family doctor, he says this doesn't sound right, and sends us to his gut guy. New doc takes a look at blood work and CT scans, determines she has an infection. Antibiotics prescribed, which means no nursing. Get home today to find out our diabetic dog, whom we've stopped calling Charlie and are now calling him Wilfred (for obvious reasons...he's got the diabetus), ate an entire cup package of Ice Breakers gum. Come to find out it contains xylitol, extremely toxic in dogs, but OK for you and me. He's puking all over, stumbling around the house, so we decide to take a trip to the emergency vet clinic (it's $103 just to walk through the door). They tellme how bad this xylitol is for him, check his blood sugar, and can't determine if it is high because of the gum (which would lower his numbers) or because he hasn't had his insulin since 7 AM this morning (he was at about 526, normally around 200-250). They recommend he stay overnight for observation (apparently, xylitol can cause some pretty severe, irreparable liver damage that almost always results in death) for a cost of $535-$775, depending on what happens. Needless to say, he's resting comfortably (after vomiting more gum onto the carpet) at home.
I came across an article by Billy Graham asking "Does God test our faith by letting hard times happen to us?" He writes, "Our faith is weak...God doesn't test us because he doesn't know how strong we are. Instead, He tests us because we don't know how strong we are." Acts 14:22 (NIV) says, "...We must go through many hardships to enter the kingdom of God."
When I feel bogged down by the weight of the world and all it's problems, I often find myself yearning for a reminder of times when I'm not enduring hardships. It can be tough sometimes, but with trust in the Lord, support of my loving wife, and smiles from my beautiful daughters, the darkness goes away, sometimes briefly, sometimes long enough to let me look around and awe in His creation.
Until next time,
-Joe
About two months ago, we discovered our dog was diabetic. He'd been peeing a lot in the house and had this insatiable thirst. We go to the vet, they test him, he's got ketones in his urine and his sugar is real high. So, the vet keeps him in her office (at just over $100 per day) for three days trying to figure out how much insulin he'll need to be regulated. Oh yeah, then we need to go buy insulin and needles. He has to go back every week to have his numbers checked once again. Medical bills are coming in from the birth of our rainbow baby Eliana. Two weeks ago, my wife has some pretty severe abdominal pain, I take her to the ER, she has a perforated appendix and has to have emergency surgery. She didn't recover well from the surgery, spending 3 days in the hospital. When we left, she was in more pain than before, the doc that performed the surgery says, "This is all normal, we'll see you on the 22nd for a follow up." In the mean time, we go to our family doctor, he says this doesn't sound right, and sends us to his gut guy. New doc takes a look at blood work and CT scans, determines she has an infection. Antibiotics prescribed, which means no nursing. Get home today to find out our diabetic dog, whom we've stopped calling Charlie and are now calling him Wilfred (for obvious reasons...he's got the diabetus), ate an entire cup package of Ice Breakers gum. Come to find out it contains xylitol, extremely toxic in dogs, but OK for you and me. He's puking all over, stumbling around the house, so we decide to take a trip to the emergency vet clinic (it's $103 just to walk through the door). They tellme how bad this xylitol is for him, check his blood sugar, and can't determine if it is high because of the gum (which would lower his numbers) or because he hasn't had his insulin since 7 AM this morning (he was at about 526, normally around 200-250). They recommend he stay overnight for observation (apparently, xylitol can cause some pretty severe, irreparable liver damage that almost always results in death) for a cost of $535-$775, depending on what happens. Needless to say, he's resting comfortably (after vomiting more gum onto the carpet) at home.
I came across an article by Billy Graham asking "Does God test our faith by letting hard times happen to us?" He writes, "Our faith is weak...God doesn't test us because he doesn't know how strong we are. Instead, He tests us because we don't know how strong we are." Acts 14:22 (NIV) says, "...We must go through many hardships to enter the kingdom of God."
When I feel bogged down by the weight of the world and all it's problems, I often find myself yearning for a reminder of times when I'm not enduring hardships. It can be tough sometimes, but with trust in the Lord, support of my loving wife, and smiles from my beautiful daughters, the darkness goes away, sometimes briefly, sometimes long enough to let me look around and awe in His creation.
Until next time,
-Joe
Sunday, September 8, 2013
From the mouths of babes...
Tonight, like almost every night when she is tired, our daughter Izzie was talking about her sister. "Sophie died?" she asked with the innocence only a three-year-old could have. "Yeah, Sweetie, she died," replied my wife. Normally Iz follows up with the toddler classic "Why?", but tonight she surprised both of us. "Jesus died, too?" Yeah, Jesus died, too. "God died?" My wife responded, "Well, no. God doesn't die. He created everything around us. He created you and me and Daddy, and Charlie (our dog) and the grass and everything. God sent Jesus here to die for us so that we could be with Him in Heaven one day. And you know what? Everything is perfect in Heaven and everyone we love will be there." Izzie got really excited, "I can play with Sophie and Jesus?" "You sure can!" "That would be so much fun!"
There is so much here I need to see and do, but I am looking forward to the day when everything is perfect and I can hold my daughter once again.
I miss you, sweetheart. Daddy loves you...
There is so much here I need to see and do, but I am looking forward to the day when everything is perfect and I can hold my daughter once again.
I miss you, sweetheart. Daddy loves you...
Monday, August 26, 2013
Need to get back to where I was...
I had to go see my doctor today; I've got a pretty nasty case of poison ivy. The last time I was there was about a month or so before Sophie died. I started running and eating smarter in February of 2012. By May, I was down 40 pounds and dropped my cholesterol almost 18 points. I was very proud of myself and my doctor couldn't believe my transformation.
After she died, we were blessed by friends and family that brought us food. What else can you do when something so tragic happens? No card has the right words, no flowers smell good enough, they don't make balloons that say,"Sorry about your daughter." They brought food and we were grateful. We are giving in nature, so naturally, we shared the food with our nurses and anyone who wanted to sit and talk and cry with us.
I remember the first time I had eaten in what seemed like days (I still wasn't hungry, but scientifically I knew I had to get some nourishment). I took out my phone and started to record my food on the app I used and I thought to myself, "What's the point?" I stopped caring about diets and exercises and over time have put every last one of those pounds back on.
My doctor says to me today, "Don't be a stranger about those cholesterol tests, that's important." I know, Doc. After Sophie died, I stopped caring. "Yeah, tragedies like that tend to do that to us. You don't care because all you want to do is die yourself. But you don't die, you have to live. For her, for your wife, for your other daughter." I guess that means it's time for that change, time to get back at it and get healthy. As motivation for myself, I am planning absolutely no research into the fact I've convinced myself is true: If you are heavy, they can't use your organs in donation. When I die, I told my wife to give whatever is still usable. If my eyes can help a child see, if my liver can save another father, if my lungs can help someone take a breath of fresh air, make it so.
It's also the night of the first day of school. Today was a good day, I have great groups of kids and I feel like this year will be better than last. I still struggle with bouts of uncertainty and doubt. As I sit here and type, there are moments when I know exactly what I am doing tomorrow and for the rest of the week and moments where I am drawing a complete blank. This will be my biggest struggle this year.
After she died, we were blessed by friends and family that brought us food. What else can you do when something so tragic happens? No card has the right words, no flowers smell good enough, they don't make balloons that say,"Sorry about your daughter." They brought food and we were grateful. We are giving in nature, so naturally, we shared the food with our nurses and anyone who wanted to sit and talk and cry with us.
I remember the first time I had eaten in what seemed like days (I still wasn't hungry, but scientifically I knew I had to get some nourishment). I took out my phone and started to record my food on the app I used and I thought to myself, "What's the point?" I stopped caring about diets and exercises and over time have put every last one of those pounds back on.
My doctor says to me today, "Don't be a stranger about those cholesterol tests, that's important." I know, Doc. After Sophie died, I stopped caring. "Yeah, tragedies like that tend to do that to us. You don't care because all you want to do is die yourself. But you don't die, you have to live. For her, for your wife, for your other daughter." I guess that means it's time for that change, time to get back at it and get healthy. As motivation for myself, I am planning absolutely no research into the fact I've convinced myself is true: If you are heavy, they can't use your organs in donation. When I die, I told my wife to give whatever is still usable. If my eyes can help a child see, if my liver can save another father, if my lungs can help someone take a breath of fresh air, make it so.
It's also the night of the first day of school. Today was a good day, I have great groups of kids and I feel like this year will be better than last. I still struggle with bouts of uncertainty and doubt. As I sit here and type, there are moments when I know exactly what I am doing tomorrow and for the rest of the week and moments where I am drawing a complete blank. This will be my biggest struggle this year.
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Riding with my angel
I ordered a custom decal for my bike. I have a 2011 Giant Talon 29-1, a white, black, and blue mountain bike. Recently, I put some slick tires on it to make the rides on road smoother. I've been wanting to get something on it so I could look down and see while riding that reminds me of her (same rationale for my wanting a tattoo, but more on that later). Thought I'd share a pic of what I got.
I miss her so much...
Sunday, July 7, 2013
A chat with Jimbo
A while back, a friend was doing some work for us and I was helping him install a new hot water tank. He says, "I ain't ready to go, I've still got some living to do, you know?" He was pretty surprised when I gave him my response; "Not me, I'm ready man." "Really?" "Oh, hell yeah. This world sucks. I can't wait to get there and hold my little girl again."
Missing my angel...
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