Grief's a Mug

Kedric and Kaylee, Early March 2002

Tomorrow will be ten years.  Ten years since I've held my sweet Kaylee in my arms.  Ten years since I gazed into her deep brown, knowing eyes.  Ten years since I sang to her.  Sometimes it seems longer.  Sometimes it seems like yesterday.  I don't know if it will ever get easier.  Sometimes I just bust out into tears...my friends tell me I'm hormonal from just having Kai, but I don't know.  Poor Kai, if he so much as coughs, I have him at the doctor.  I KNOW they think I'm crazy.  

I've never been through a "Ladybug Day" with an infant.  Kai is not that far off from Kaylee's age when she died.  My other kids were much older and, I don't know, sturdier it seemed for past Ladybug Days.  Not sure if that's why it seems harder or not.  He's also the first one that really has resembled her.  There are times I just can't help but think of her when I look at him. Especially since he's started smiling.  He has her smile.  I think God waited 10 years on purpose for that.  Maybe I couldn't have handled it before. But when he cracks that smile, it's amazing.  How can a heart be filled with such joy and sorrow at the same time?

I know my God will help me tomorrow.  I want Ladybug Day to be a celebration.  A time to be grateful for the time we have with the precious gifts God has given us.  A day to celebrate His unfailing love, even in the midst of death.  He doesn't promise us an easy life, just that He will walk through it all with us.  Natalie Grant has a song called "Held."  I love it.  Listen to it often.  Reminds us of this.  Here is the chorus.

This is what it means
To be held
How it feels
When the sacred is torn from your life, and you survive
This is what it is
To be loved
And to know
That the promise was when everything fell, we'd be held.

Here's a link to the full song:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oy6tW28GceQ

The song holds many parallels to our experience.  Kaylee was just three months old.  And I was praying, with my whole heart and soul, when she died.  And I know that bitterness that can so easily settle in my heart.  I have tasted it.  I pray that I can open that wise hand and see the beauty that will unfold, even from her short life.

I love you, Ladybug.
Mama Jung

Ladybug day is almost here!

Ladybug day will be here in just a few short weeks!  Not sure what it's all about?  Here's a repost of my first blog explaining this special day we've created to honor the memory of our daughter, Kaylee.  Hope you can join us!  We'll be releasing live ladybugs this year at JC Bermudez park and celebrating afterwards at our home. 

Repost 06/14/2009                                                             

OK, it's been on my heart to start blogging for quite some time now. Could give a number of excuses for it, but since I hate excuses, I won't bore you with mine :) Anyway, I'm gonna give it a try. Perhaps in the process, I can get a little therapy through writing and possibly even provide some encouragement for others.

Those that know me will totally understand the name I gave the blog :) For those that don't, it's not about natural pesticides or a cutesy reference for all things "girly." For me, ladybugs remind me of my faith in God, and my sweet little girl, Kaylee. Kaylee was only in our lives for three short months. Well, actually, I guess it was a full year if you count the time she was growing inside of me. But at the age of 3 months and 2 days, she died suddenly due to an undetected heart defect.

I praise God for the time we had with her. I know I'm probably biased, but she was absolutely the most beautiful baby. And I'm sure this sounds cliche, but she touched the hearts of all who laid eyes on her. We couldn't go anywhere without people just loving all over her...and of course she was giving it right back. The small Korean church where we were serving, couldn't have a service if she was there. NO ONE paid any attention to the poor pastor...they were all focused on little Kaylee. :) She had this plush ladybug rattle that she loved. And she had a bouncy seat with a ladybug, caterpillar, and butterfly. She would giggle as she watched them spin and dangle in front of her. She had these adorable little pink pajamas with, you guessed it, ladybugs all over them :) She was our little ladybug.

When the first anniversary of her death began to approach, I searched and searched for a meaningful way to remember her. I couldn't just forget. It wasn't possible. And for those out there dealing with the same type of issue who are trying to forget a lost loved one, please stop. It won't work. The option of locking myself in my room and crying all day sounded appealing to a part of me, but the wiser part (although it's a much smaller part :) knew that wasn't healthy. I had to come up with a way to honor her memory, but more importantly, honor the God who helped my family get through the previous year.

Everytime I saw a ladybug, it reminded me of her. So, I looked into ladybugs and the history of them. Sounds silly, eh? But what I found out led me to what we decided was the perfect way of celebrating little Kaylee as well as pointing us back to Christ. You see, ladybugs are what you call "good bugs." They eat the "bad bugs." After finding that out, I realized that Kaylee truly was a ladybug in every sense. You see, her short little existence was enough to eat up a lot of the bad things in my life and in the lives of my family. Her smile melted bitterness. Her laugh destroyed anger. Even her cry fought off impatience and selfishness. And her death brought us to our knees pleading with God for help. He did just that. I know Kaylee is safe in heaven waiting on me. I miss her everyday, but I know I'll see my little ladybug again. Without a doubt. And until that time, I will do my very best to keep those bad bugs far from me and those around me.

So, that's what I would like this blog to be about. Fighting off those bad bugs and other things that come into our lives and eat up all that is good. God, thank you for the ladybugs!


How the Ladybug got its Name
In Medieval time in Europe, bad bugs were destroying all the crops. The farmers prayed and these little red beetles showed up. They ate up all the bad bugs and saved the crops. They named these good bugs after the Virgin Mary, calling them Beetles of the Lady, because they believed that God had answered their prayers and sent the bugs to save them. Over time, the name has changed to Lady beetles, Ladybirds, and now the most common, Ladybugs. So now every time you see one of those cute little ladybugs, you can be reminded that God hears and answers our prayers!

We've declared March 29 Ladybug Day. We usually release live ladybugs some where and give out some kind of ladybug token with cards explaining the story of the ladybug and the verse Jeremiah 33:3. It's helped us turn a day that probably would be unbearable into something that encourages us, our family and hopefully those around us. To know that even in death, my little girl can still make an impact to those whose lives she touches is healing.

Coming Home

Been awhile.  Sad that most of my posts start out with that statement.  This time, however, I may just have a reasonable excuse.  I had a baby last month!  Number five.  People usually respond to that with one of two exclamations:  "You're crazy!" or "You're brave!"  I've accepted the truth probably lies somewhere in between. 

So, the last month has been a time of finding a new "regular" in the Jung home.  We're getting there, but I will admit, it has been a bit of a bumpy ride. The first week especially.  More so than you're regular first-week-with-a-new-baby bumpy.  Our sweet baby boy spent the first week of his life in Intensive Care. It was what they call a step-down unit...Intermediate.  So he wasn't the sickest of babies, but he had to be under constant observation.  It was hard enough that he couldn't be in the room with me.  I couldn't nurse him that first night even.  He was all the way on another floor and in another wing of the building.  It seemed like miles to get to him. 

Then I was discharged.  They actually told me to go home without him.  How could I leave without my baby? My sweet, brand new, baby boy.  He was helpless.  He needed his mom.  And they want me to leave him here all alone? Sure, the nurses in the NICU were amazing, but none of them love him like I do. A baby needs his momma. How can I leave him so young?

We knew this was going to be a possibility since the second day. In my mind I had been working out how I could get through it...the things I would tell myself.  But I honestly wasn't sure if I could physically make myself leave the building. Everytime I would think about it, my legs would get weak. I could sleep in the chairs in the waiting room (actually security would have chased me out.) I could find an empty room in a quiet wing and hide in a bed. But on the other hand, I had three kids at home that needed me, too. And they all needed their mom to be healthy and strong. I asked for prayer, and by God's grace I was able to walk out of the building.

The next couple days were a whirlwind. I wish I could say I moved through this trial with grace, faithfully trusting my Heavenly Father every step of the way.  But that'd probably be a lie.  I did my very best to get to the hospital every three hours to nurse him. My mother and husband were probably about to check me back into the hospital...but this time, not in the maternity ward. I slept about 2 hours a day.  No joke.  Between the drive to and from the hospital, eating and drinking healthy so my milk would come in, giving the other kids at least a little attention from mom, pumping when we missed a feeding, and a shower every other day or so, there just wasn't much time for sleep.  My main focus was getting back to Kai. I didn't even have time to realize how tired I was.

Then it happened.  I was nursing him Saturday night.  Dad was there with me.  We have him right in front of his little incubator and he was still all plugged up to his monitors and IV.  Test results had come back.  His billirubin level was 19.  The charge nurse practically ripped him off my breast and said we have to get him back under his light.  They even went and got two other special lights, one to go under him and another in front of him.  Now I couldn't even hold him.  I didn't understand. The nurse explained to me that if his number gets to 20, he goes to the higher level ICU and they start discussing options for blood transfusions.  WHAT JUST HAPPENED?  I thought he was just jaundiced? 

I went into a tailspin.  It was happening again.  The doctors and nurses assured me he was going to be fine as long as we let them do their job. They quoted statistics to me. So did my husband.  All in his favor of course.  But statistics and logic don't do much good for a mom who's already lost one child to a very RARE heart defect that happens less than .2% of the time. Statistics had not been my friend. The heart is not logical. I don't want to hear how good his chances are, I want him to be in my arms and home.  I just wanted to take him home!  And now, I have to leave again?  When he's even sicker?  Why, God?

My husband struggles when I'm in the midst of an anxiety attack. I imagine it's partly because he wants to fix it, and can't.  And partly because the whole guys-not-dealing-with-tears-well thing.  He tries, bless his heart.  But he was also hurting and sleep-deprived.  We were a mess.  I called my friend, Crystal.  She prayed with me on the phone as I walked out of the hospital.  And then I found out afterward, she unleashed the prayer warriors!  I came home for another two hours sleep and then back to the hospital. 

His numbers weren't down, but it wasn't the steady climb of the last couple days.  We prayed more.  And the next test, they were DOWN!  And then down some more!  Could it be we might be going home soon?  Kai's brothers and sister were beside themselves wanting him home too!  We all wanted to be home.  The craziness of the last couple days was starting to wear on us all.  I actually begin having hallucinations Sunday afternoon. I'm sure it was sleep-deprivation.  I decided I better try and get at least 4 hours sleep that night. 

Tuesday afternoon the news came...he was released!!  We were sooo excited!  Finally, our family could be together!  I will never forget the feeling riding in the car on the way home. Pure joy. And that night, we didn't really do anything special, just ate together...as a family...and watched some tv together...all of us...as a family. It was SO nice to just be all together in the same room.  It made me think of heaven.  I mean after all, this earth is not our home.  We're all here, waiting until the day we get discharged, so we can go to our true home with God.  And sometimes, just like a stay in the hospital, our stay here can be rocky. Full of uncertainty.  Sometimes we're even away from the ones we love.  I wonder if those loved ones who've gone on before get excited about us "coming home." I wonder if they're waiting patiently and watching as we go through our struggles here, rooting us on, pleading and intercessing for us when we're in trouble. Longing for that day when they can bring us home and we can all be together.  What a glorious day that will be. 

Kai is doing wonderfully now.  Had his 1-month check up yesterday and all looks good! He's tough. Runs in the family :)  And if you were one of those prayer warriors out there covering us last month, we are SO grateful for you!  What a beautiful thing when God's people come together in prayer!

Sept 12, Another Anniversary

I think we all remember what we were doing on September 11, 2001.  Whether we personally knew someone who lost their life or not, it's a day forever engraved into our memories.  What we were doing, where we were, how we felt.   But I remember this day not only because it's the day our country was attacked and thousands of people were killed, but also because it was the last time I ever spoke to my father.  

He was going through his third divorce.  He called me that afternoon upset about his life and I believe to confront me about some things I had done or said.  His soon-to-be ex-wife had called me earlier that week concerned about my little sister...their five-year-old daughter.  My father was bi-polar.  That's hard for a kid to understand...I remember.  Shoot, sometimes it's hard for an adult to understand.  He was on one of his cycles and things had not been good.  He had made some threats and said some things that were a bit disturbing and I was worried for Paige's safety.  So I told his ex-wife just to keep some distance between them for awhile...that he'd come back around, but for now, she didn't need to be alone with him.  I didn't want history to repeat itself. 

That afternoon, when he called, he repeated a few things I had said to his ex-wife word for word.  I hadn't said anything that was untrue or that I was ashamed of, but he felt betrayed.  Like I should have been "on his side."  I told him I loved him and I was just concerned for Paige's safety when he was in this state of mind.  That just made him angrier.  We argued back and forth for a few minutes, then he said something about making choices and that we are in control of our own lives.  All I could see was the image of the towers collapsing on those thousands of helpless people.  They certainly had no choice, no control.  I shot back at him rather sharply with "We are NOT in control!  What about all those people that just died today!"  All he said was "Sure we are" and hung up.  I was too mad to hear him.  To really hear what he had just said.   Usually I can read between the lines...even the fine lines...sometimes more than I want to.  But this day my mind was distracted...and I was mad.  How dare he blame me for the position he'd put himself in. 

The next day, September 12, 2001, he went out to the garage and started his truck.  Then he crawled to the back and propped himself up next to the exhaust pipe.  The EMT's said this was probably so things would happen faster.  They wouldn't even let us see him.  The gas had been so strong it had eaten through the skin on his face.  His last effort at controlling his life.  

Although I know this is a decision he made, I can't help but feel some guilt.  I should have listened.  I should have known.  I shouldn't have let it end like that.  Why didn't I call back?  Even if he wouldn't have answered (which was a game he'd often play...I guess another attempt at controlling the situation) I could have left a message telling him I was sorry and that I loved him and that no matter what was happening, he could get through this.  We could get through this.  Perhaps this is why I have such a hard time dealing with unresolved conflict.  I'm worried there may never be a chance to resolve it.  

My grandmother is living with us for now.  And watching her go through this anniversary has been hard.  I've buried a child as well.  I know the unbearable pain it brings.  But I would imagine losing your child to suicide must be even worse.  To know that your only child felt so alone and betrayed that he had no reason to live.  The confusion.  The guilt.  The "what if's."  If you have a moment today, please pray for her.  Pray that she doesn't lose hope completely.  That she holds tight to Jesus.  And that her grand-daughter would know how to love her through this.  

Thank you. 

Choices

Life is full of choices.  Sometimes we want to blame others for the situations we are in, but often, they're simply a result of choices we've made.  Of course there are the obvious times when we screw up and have to deal with the consequences.  You hurt someone = lost relationship.  You spend to much money = too much debt.  You stay up late = you're tired the next day, can't think clearly, and often end up making more bad choices that lead to even more consequences.

But sometimes, even the good choices we make can lead to consequences.  We call it sacrifice.  That's a nice word.  We like to think of ourselves as sacrificing for the good of others...especially mothers.  I've made many choices as a mother.  With my first, I chose to work outside the home.  I really felt I had no choice...I was single, no help from the dad...again stemming from a choice I made.  But in all honesty, I did have a choice.  I could have gone into the system, lived in subsidized housing and off the government, or my family.  And to a point I did rely on those services.  However, I chose to work and get through the rest of my college.  I didn't have as much of a social life as my friends.  My child spent a LOT of time with grandparents, which I'm grateful for.  But it was hard to be away from him, and eventually, I quit an amazing job at Toyota because I just couldn't stand having other people raise my child.  My choice.

I took a job at a social work agency.  LOVED what I was doing.  Felt like I was really helping people.  And I still got off in time to spend quality time with my kiddo.  But it wasn't all roses.  Our income dropped drastically.  Debt incurred.  Stress developed.  And frustration set in.  I began looking for another job and landed a great position at a community college being a part-time instructor.  The hours were better and so was the pay.  And, I love teaching...still felt like I was helping people.  My kid was in a good school. I had another baby.  Life was good.

Funny how life events change our perspective.  When she was three months old, we lost our second child.  It was sudden and unexpected.  And of course, had a profound effect on me.  I realized how short life is and how precious our children are.  I wanted to dedicate my life to them.  God had given them to me as a gift.  He had placed them in my care and I wanted to give them the very best of me.

When I was growing up, I always had notions of being a strong working mom.  I watched my mom do it and had so much respect for her.  My dream was to have a successful career.  I had a real drive and ambition. I planned on going back to school, getting my MBA, and blowing the heck out of those glass ceilings!  Never did I consider being a stay-at-home mom.  Thought never even crossed my mind.  Ever.  That's why I know it had to come from God.  He changed my heart.  He turned it toward my family.  Then He provided a way.

I wanted to bless my family with all of me.  And my arms that had ached for another baby after our loss, now wanted to have a house FULL of them!  God placed women in my life that had the same calling who taught me a lot.  We began homeschooling.  And I LOVED it.  I had always loved teaching.  There's a connection created between teacher and student when something is learned.  That connection is magnified and so much more special when it's your own child.  I don't profess that parents who don't homeschool are bad parents. I think it's a choice we make.  And I thank God for allowing it to be an option for us.  We revisit the decision often and if we're ever called away from it, then we'll follow God.  Our oldest is now in school.  I question this decision often, but am trusting God has a purpose and a plan for him. He's been able to reach out and invite MANY of his school friends to church.  Perhaps that is why God has him there now.  But I'm glad we were able to pour into him in the beginning so he could have a more solid foundation.

Or perhaps God was using our first child to prepare me for our third...who would seriously struggle in a traditional school setting.  But none of that matters.  We were prepared to meet his needs and continue on with our homeschooling, knowing that God is providing the best for him through a loving and non-threatening learning environment.  A place he can learn his way and be encouraged, not judged and compared.  Again, there may come a time when God has him in school, but until then, we feel strongly that this is what God wants for our family.  So this is what we choose.

So what is the sacrifice?  That corporate driven side of me has to be held in check a lot.  It will rear it's ugly head and cry, "What about me? I can do that!  I want to be involved in that!"  I want to be successful in what I do.  I admit it, I want to be respected and valued.  Sometimes, people look at me and see only this stay-at home mom who's homeschooling her kids...weird.  :)  They don't know the side of me that has a degree and fought with the big dogs in corporate America.  Or the fact that I've been in ministry for nearly 10 years.  They see only what's in front of them...and often I fall into the trap of proving myself.  Jeesh.  Why?  I don't have to do anything except what is pleasing to God.  Why do I seek the approval of man? Why do I care if I'm overlooked or left out?

I've chosen this.  Me.  If I want the other...to run crazy hard after another great mission and vision...I have to let this one go.   And I don't feel God is calling me away from this one just yet.  One day.  Yes.  One day, the kids will be grown, or they'll all be in school.  And then, I can run hard after something else.  Until then,  I have to give the rest a little less.  Right now God has given me this as my priority and I'm choosing to follow and trust Him on it.  He has given me a mighty mission in my family.  An admirable one.  I will not run away from it.  I will not give up.  I will not blame others for the decisions I've made.  I will embrace this season of my life and be grateful for the choices God has given me.  And the beautiful children he has blessed me with.

The One True Source

Been a long time :)  I know.  Just started a new book and thought I'd share some of my thoughts.  It's called Secrets of the Secret Place, by Bob Sorge.  I've just read the first three chapters, but excited on how it's going to challenge me to really, REALLY, go deeper in my quiet time...or secret place.

In the first chapter I was immediately struck by the following sentence:

"I've watched myself return persistently to the sources which are no source."

Man have I done that.  I think we all do.  When we're tired or worn out, even if it's from serving God, and we think we need a break...we need to relax.  What do we do?  Flip the TV on.  Veg out.  Eat.  Exercise (obsessively).  Call up that gossipy friend who will tell us what we want to hear so we feel better. Even those of us who call ourselves mature Christians.  We latch onto these "sources"  that do precisely the opposite of what we need. Instead, they actually sap our energy supply in most cases.  The only true source is God.  So why do we turn to substitutes?

No really, why do we do it?  I'm guilty of it.  I know sometimes if I'm not challenged or pushed I won't do what I know is needed, what is good for me.  Why?  I know that everytime I workout, I feel GREAT afterwards.  I know that everytime I eat healthy, I feel good.  Everytime I read a good book, I feel wiser.  Everytime I read God's word, and truly think about and meditate on what I've read, I feel inspired.  I feel encouraged.  I feel strong. And everytime I truly spend time seeking God's presence, I feel peaceful.

So why do we resist?  It's actually kind of funny.  I mean, I'm usually a very driven person.  The go-to when someone wants to get something done.  I can run circles around many when it comes to productivity.  When it's hard, I can dig deep and find the will to push on and get something done.  Buzzer shots and the last lap are my specialty.  So why in certain areas, can I just not get it done?

Because I can't.  Because I'm relying on me.  My will.  My previous success in other areas is quite possibly exactly what's causing my failure in these important ones.  I'm trying to do it in my own power.  I'm not resting in Him.   I've got to give it to God...all of it.  I've got to rely on the only one true source.  He's the only one that can refill me.

"Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again.  The water that I will give him will become in him s a spring of water welling up to eternal life." John 4:13-14

Ladybug Day is almost here!

This Tuesday marks another Ladybug Day...the ninth for us. Hard to believe. Sometimes it feels like little Kaylee was in my arms just yesterday. I can feel her breath on my neck as I held her to burp her. See her adorable crooked smile as I sing to her. Get lost in those huge deep brown eyes. I thank God that those memories are still so intense. I miss her terribly, but the thought of not having even memories is gut-wrenching. I know one day I'll hold my baby girl again. I know she is safe...she's saving a place for all of us...me, dad, and her brothers and sister...and anyone else reading this post who calls Jesus their Lord and Savior. Grief is strange. This year for some strange reason I keep finding myself angry. I'm not angry at God...I truly know He's working all things together for good. But anger is the feeling I keep confronting. It's been nine years. Why does it still hurt SO bad? It's frustrating. I think deep inside I know that it will never stop. I don't even know if it gets easier...you just learn to keep moving forward. We learn to live with the pain instead of running from it. You can't hide, so why waste the energy running? Might as well deal with it and try and figure out the lesson in it. That's how I've dealt anyway. When it comes to fight or flight, I've always been a fighter. I wrestle with the grief until it gives me something...until I figure out why God has me here. I want to learn the lesson so I can get out of this place! Maybe that's why I'm angry this year. It's been nine years, and still, it hurts. Bad. WHY AM I STILL HERE STUCK IN THIS PAIN? I've always been goal-oriented, seeking after progress, reaching for the next level. But this still feels the same. Nine years. No progress. Sometimes it still hurts like it was yesterday. God, I don't know why you have me here in this place, but I trust you. And if this is where you want me, broken, hurting, I know there is a purpose. There must be. This Tuesday at 6:30pm we'll be setting ladybugs free at Morgan Levy Park in Doral if anyone wants to join! We do this every year in her honor and tell others the story of the ladybug and reminding them that God is faithful and answers prayer!