4 Years Without You

Yet I will praise You
Yet I will sing of Your name
Here in the shadows
I’ll light up an offering of praise
What was true in the light
Is still true in the dark
You’re good and You’re kind
And You care for this heart
Lord I believe
That You weep with me

-Rend Collective

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Lincoln at Riley Children’s Hospital February 2014

Today we took Finleigh to Lincoln’s grave for the first time. It was chilly and wet so we didn’t get out of the car, but we just sat there for a minute. We told her we came to visit her awesome big brother, and how he is in heaven. We want to make sure she grows up knowing all about our amazing Lincoln and his story. And why she also is so very special.

IMG_4683Finleigh wearing her “My Big Brother is my Super Hero” onesie ❤ 

Four years ago today was the worst day of our entire lives. I held my son as he left my arms, and left this world forever. Mommies and Daddies aren’t supposed to have to say goodbye to their babies. To bury them in the ground.

I’ve said it a million times, and it’s still true today; there are no words to describe the feelings in your mind, soul, and body when your child dies. That’s why we loss parents search each other out. To just be together. We don’t have to try to explain, or come up with what to say. We just know.

I am so thankful to have a heavenly father who understands the loss of a son. I don’t have to give reasons for why I can’t stop crying, or am depressed, or angry, or can’t stop  the “what ifs” from coming… what my life would be like if I never had to say goodbye. In Him I can just be. I can rest in his loving embrace, knowing he has felt my pain.

Someday I will get to look upon that wonderful face that I saw for the first time 4 1/2 years ago. That face that made me a mom. That face that smiled up at me when he woke up in the middle of the night. That face that after all the trauma he had been through,  all the doctors saying he would never wake up, would never again know who I was, looked at me with those gorgeous blue eyes with recognition. My little hero. Oh, how my heart longs for him.

Today we are thankful for the privilege of being Lincoln Robert Huff’s parents. The responsibility of sharing his story, and making a positive impact on this world in his honor. We love you forever little boy.

Daddy, Mommy, and Sissy can’t wait to see you. ❤

770 Huff, Stephanie NB

Lincoln Robert 9/16/2013 – 2/21/2014

As The Dreaded Day Approaches…

Lincoln's Build-a-Bear "Spots"

Lincoln’s Build-a-Bear “Spots”

When I first began this blog, I was telling our story day by day of our experience at Riley. I had to stop and give myself a break because I just couldn’t handle the emotions of reliving those days as I wrote. It helped at first, but with Jeremy struggling at work with PTSD and me working and also trying to keep our bills paid and everything, it proved to be too much to finish at that time.

But I think I’m finally ready to continue it next month. It feels like an unfinished book that needs an ending. I think it will help me process my grief in the upcoming month. I have to be very careful when I let myself dwell on events of that week, or I will be sinking into a bottomless hole before I know it. The memories cause extreme emotional and physical reactions. Before I know know it, I’m right there back in that little PICU room reliving every moment.

February 21st will be one year since Lincoln left us. Jeremy and I are both taking the entire week off from work. This day weighs heavy on my heart and mind as it approaches. I just can’t believe I haven’t been able to hold and kiss my sweet baby for almost a year. It doesn’t even seem real. His swing still sits over beside the tv. His play pen is still out with his folded little outfits and towels still stacked from the laundry we did the days before he died. I’ve moved a lot of his things just into his nursery because they hurt so much to look at every day. His stroller and car seat. The unopened high chair he never got to use… But those last few things I haven’t had the strength to move yet.

I tried to clean out his play pen but when I came across one of the last outfits I bought him, that I had been so excited to buy, that he never got to wear, I just couldn’t do it. Our grief counselor once told me that we shouldn’t push ourselves to clean and move things we aren’t ready to because you can only do it once. And right now we’re not ready. I don’t know when we will be. And that’s ok.    

Please keep us in prayer my friends as we approach the anniversary of the death of our son. It was truly the worst day of our lives. I actually feel guilty for even saying that because it was also the day that Lincoln was set free from his painful and diseased body, and made whole and new in Christ. So while my mommy heart knows that was truly best for my darling baby, that doesn’t mean that my heart wasn’t shattered that day too. All my hopes and dreams of a toddler running around the house this winter, first days of school, playing football and piano, years of birthdays and holidays and so, so much more were taken from me in an instant. And I have to live with that the rest of my life. Everyday he is missing. 50 years from now he will still be missing.

God give me the strength to face each day with courage!.