Rebecca's Hydrangea Bushes

When Rebecca died I had the horrible task of going to the florist to pick out flowers for the funeral. The sweet lady at Reggie's Flower Shop suggested two little dark pink hydrangeas to put on either side of Rebecca's tiny casket.  She said after the funeral we could plant them in her memory. That sounded like a wonderful idea.  I was happy to have the decision made and I loved that they were  pink and not the blue color that most hydrangeas are around here.  (I love the blue ones but this was my baby girl and she needed something pink.)

We later planted the two tiny hydrangea bushes on  the east side of the house hoping they would get the perfect amount of morning sun and afternoon shade to grow and thrive. At this same time, we planted other plants we were given in Rebecca's memory around the outside of the house.

My best friend Jennifer gave us a gift card to Lowe's to pick out something special and I chose Dahlia's that were called Rebecca's World.  I chose them because of the name and their flower was a beautiful deep dark pinky purple and white.  They were beautiful.

My friend Christy gave us a beautiful butterfly bush to plant and I loved watching the butterflies hover around the blooms.  Each butterfly that landed on it made me think of Rebecca.

Dan's brother and sister sent us two perfect azalea bushes which we planted under a tree at the front corner of our house. Dan's sister also sent a Camellia which had gorgeous blooms on it.

Our Lady of Mercy Catholic School gifted us with a lovely dogwood tree which we planted at the edge of the yard and I was looking forward to enjoying it's blossoms for years to come.

We also planted many of the plants that were included in beautiful arrangements we received. 

Sadly, every single thing that we planted after Rebecca's funeral ultimately ended up dying. Some didn't make it past the heat of the first summer while others made it two years before they were gone. The dahlia's made it four years before they were done. Not sure if it was the location we planted everything or the fact that we over watered or under watered. Most likely a combination of all of these factors.

While I sadly pulled everything up as it died, I continued to keep an eye on our two little hydrangea bushes.  They did not die but they also were not really growing and they certainly weren't thriving.

We researched and googled and I determined that it was because they were from a florist. They weren't meant to be planted and grow like a hydrangea bush you would buy at Lowe's.  They were meant to stay smaller and bloom once and look lovely in an arrangement.

We got a couple of blooms in year two and they were looking blue so we added some lime to soil to change the pH so that they would turn more pink/purple. We would usually get one or two flowers and there were a couple of years where there were no blooms at all. The hydrangeas down south are normally out of control.  The bushes seem to take over the space they are planted and they are always heavy with blossoms. However, ours remained small and essentially flowerless.

After year three, I wanted to rip them out but Dan is a little more patient than I am. He continued to water and research and hope for the best.  Last year, the bush closest to the garage had a three or four blossoms around the back of the bush and the other bush had one blossom and I was thrilled!  We watched those blossoms and I delighted in them.  I just knew that 2021 would be the year our hydrangea bushes were actually going to look like hydrangea bushes.

In the early spring, I would check on them each morning and look for blossoms. I chatted with them and told them that this was their year.  I continued to cheer them on when I noticed blossoms forming on them and was especially excited when we finally spotted blossoms on the smaller bush as well.

I carefully cut two blooms to bring inside to enjoy:

Even though they are seven years old now and still very small, they have lots of blossoms!  And they are beautiful!

I am so thankful that Dan did not give up on our little hydrangea bushes. For me, they are a visible reminder of my sweet  Rebecca. But even more than that, the bushes are a reminder of God's love for me. 

God loves us deeply and intimately and even if we know that with our minds sometimes our hearts  need reassurance.  God loves us and sees us.  God knows what we need. God gives us what we need.

And sometimes God sends hydrangea blossoms to remind us that we are loved.

“Look at the lilies and how they grow. They don’t work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. And if God cares so wonderfully for flowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, he will certainly care for you. Why do you have so little faith?” - Luke 12:27-28

"Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life-span? Why are you anxious about clothes? Learn from the way the wild flowers grow. They do not work or spin. But I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was clothed like one of them. If God so clothes the grass of the field, which grows today and is thrown into the oven tomorrow, will he not much more provide for you, O you of little faith?"  -Matthew 6:27-30

 

My little saint is at it again!

Lest you think that the saints in heaven aren't interceding for you if you ask them to, I 'd like to share a few emails I've received.

I got the following email from a reader named Sami yesterday:

Hi Beth,

This feels weird, but I'm Sami. I found your blog 4 years ago, and I wanted to share a few things with you. First, I'm so sorry about the death of your father. I hope you and your precious family are doing ok. And mentioning precious, your sweet baby girl Rebecca has continued to shine as "the finder". I've asked for her help several times now (a friend's lost wedding ring, our missing tv remote, various treasures of my little girl's, and even our door knob (how does a door knob get lost??) ), and Rebecca has come through every time.

I love to hear when my girls show off their special talents, and I thought you would want to hear it too. Praying this brings you a smile!

Thanks,

Sami

 

This did my heart so much good! I love to hear when someone has asked Rebecca to pray and  their prayers are answered.  

 

And in March of 2017 I received the following email from my oldest and dearest friend, Tanya:

 

Your little Rebecca is really something! Dan and I were in Costa Rica for our anniversary last week and I realized when I got home that I was missing my watch. I was really bummed since it was a gift from Dan years ago. Anyhow, I contacted the resort to see if anyone had turned it in, asked them to check our room, the safe, etc. They did and replied back that it was not turned in nor was it anywhere to be found in the room. At this point, I was really sad and was coming to grips that it was gone. Then I thought of your little miracle and asked if she might be able to help. I received an email from the resort today that one of the cleaning ladies double checked the safe in our room this morning and found it 😊 I had to share with you.

 

(I'm not sure why I never shared it on the blog before!)

And last month while we were on vacation, I  received a sweet email from someone else  who lost a child in infancy and she said, "that praying for you and reading your story about how you trust God each day helped me in my own journey. I see your love for Rebecca in the way you carry your cross."

 

My sweet girl is in heaven praying for us and my writing about her brought someone some peace. I can't ask for more than that.

 

Saint Rebecca Irene, pray for us!

 

 

5 years

Rebecca's birthday was last Wednesday. I didn't write about it or really even talk about it.  I guess I was trying to avoid it because turning five is such a milestone.

Or maybe I was trying to forget it about it because I'm still grieving the loss of my dad and I'm just tired of being sad.  Everything just feels very heavy lately. Even Dan said this birthday felt harder than the ones that have come before it. 

And today, April 15th,  is the anniversary of the day she died.

Honestly though, I  wasn't even thinking about it until my Google photo app alerted me that I had memories from this day in 2014.

As soon as I saw that alert I knew what it was.  My heart dropped.  I shouldn't have clicked on it but I did it anyway.

Each morning at the hospital for those 5 days she lived, Dan and I would take our place by her little NICU crib just thankful that she made it through the last few hours while we slept fitfully in a small bed in a room just a few feet away from her.

After we would get an update from the nurses and love on our sweet girl, we would take pictures.  We have hundreds and hundreds of pictures from those five days. Pictures that I'm glad I have but pictures that I don't ever look at.

In the  first pictures we took that day she looks so tiny, so sick. During that week in the NICU (and the entire 9 months before) I prayed fervently for a miracle and was expectantly waiting for one. I just knew God was going to heal her so I guess it's no wonder that I didn't notice how bad she looked.

When I saw those pictures this morning I couldn't stop crying.  She looked purple.  I don't remember her looking purple. I should have known what was coming.

Then there were pictures of us holding her later that afternoon after they had taken her off all the machines. In one picture I'm holding her in my arms and  I've got a sad tired smile on my face. 

But it was the picture of Sarah sitting beside Rebecca sobbing while Peter rubbed her tiny head that broke me this morning. That picture brought back all the pain and heartache from 5 years ago.

I know that God heals all wounds and redeems all things. And just as I prayed for Rebecca's healing, I'm praying for our hearts to heal. It's been five years and I'm still waiting expectantly.

Heal me oh Lord, and I will be healed; 

Save me and I will be saved,

for you are the one I praise. - Jeremiah 17:14

Jeremiah 1:5

After Mass, we took the long walk to the graveyard like we do every Sunday.  We made it to her grave and stopped.  We bowed our heads and prayed like we always do and then Dan stooped down to remove  some fallen leaves from the stone and Sarah asked, "Why did you chose that verse?'

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,    before you were born I dedicated you. - Jeremiah 1:5

I took a deep breath and said, "Well, it brought us peace knowing that God knew Rebecca even before we did and that...."

And then the tears started to flow.  I couldn't finish my sentence. Sarah gave me a hug and then we all headed to the car.

I never finished my answer to Sarah because I typically can't talk about Rebecca without crying.  But I wanted to try to put into words why we chose this verse.

It's simple really. These words bring me comfort, peace and hope.

It brings me comfort to know that God knew Rebecca and his plans for her from the beginning of time.  It brings me peace to know that he set her apart as a saint and that she would share eternity with him.  It brings me hope to know that God had a plan for her even if I don't know that plan or purpose.

Knowledge that Rebecca was God's before she was ours helps me when I question Him about her life and death and ask him "why" like I do so often.  Because yes, 3 and a half years later, I am still questioning him, still wondering what it was all for.

Even though he hasn't revealed those answers to me, I know she is His.  He knew her and loved her before me. He continues to know her and love her and that brings me solace.

And that my sweet Sarah, is why we chose that verse.  

Another Rebecca Story

Rebecca's been on my mind a lot lately.  Not sure why.  Maybe it's the new school year, the changing of the seasons, the fact that our house is in shambles or maybe the fact that Dan's been gone a lot.  I don't know but she's been right with me.

Whenever she crosses my mind, the first thing I do is thank God for her and her life as short as it may have been. And  I thank Him that her suffering on this earth was short because  the only peace I get from her death is knowing that she is in heaven whole and perfect.

I ask her to pray for us all the time.  My sweet little saint loves her family and what better way to show it than to pray for us when we ask her. When one of us is having a problem, I ask her to pray for us and I have no doubt that she does because when she is praying for us, the answers and the help come quickly.

I like to imagine that she's sitting at the feet of Jesus laughing and playing and then I ask her to pray for me and she immediately turns to Him and says, "Lord help my mom.  She's a hot mess and needs you right away!"  And y'all, the Lord never disappoints.

I've shared before about some answered prayers when I've lost an item and when a couple of other blog readers have lost things.  St. Anthony is a Catholic's normal go-to intercessor for lost items  However, Rebecca has been known to find a thing or two as well.  You can read about it here and here.

This morning, after a particularly long evening filled with homework, projects, and teen angst, I woke up to find this email in my inbox:

Hello Beth, My name is Faith from Kenya. last week when i was googling randomly( i do that in an attempt to find inspiring catholic blogs by moms) i came across your blog and especially to the tab about your little angel a.k.a Rebecca Irene.......i was particularly moved by the article you wrote about asking for her intercession. I am also a firm believer in the communion of saints and thus borrowed a leaf from you when you asked for her intercession to find the lost bracelet.....

I have always prayed to St. Anthony of Padua whenever i  need to find my lost items, and when i was reading your blog, i had been seeking his intercession to find something i had lost at my job. so been encouraged by your post i started asking little Rebecca for her intercession, and yesterday Beth i found the very thing i have been looking for weeks right in my purse.....i was sooo overjoyed, thanked our little intercessor and God and i knew i  had to let the mom know what her little girl is still doing even across continents.......

Thank you very much for sharing with us, for it is through your witnessing that us too get encouraged.

Once again, someone asked sweet Rebecca to pray for them (someone in Kenya no less!) and her prayers were answered!  And once again, I am comforted. 

I frequently question her life and her death so when I hear or read that someone was helped in some small way by Rebecca and this blog, I find peace.

And I like to think that maybe it's not just with lost items that have been found but maybe bigger things too.  Perhaps someone who just learned that their baby has Trisomy 18 stumbles across my blog and realizes that life is precious and purposeful no matter the length and decides to ignore the doctors who recommend termination and lets God determine the outcome.

I know when I get to heaven, all of these things will be revealed to me and I can't wait to see all that He has done through Rebecca.  

So if you have been praying about something and are still waiting on an answer, consider asking St. Rebecca Irene to pray for you.  And if you aren't Catholic and have questions about why Catholics turn to the saints for intercession, check out this article.  It explains things pretty well. 

St. Rebecca Irene, pray for us!

 

Saint Rebecca Irene, pray for us!

Remember this summer, when I posted this story about my sweet little saint who loves to pray?

This weekend, I received the following email from a reader named Kim:

Hello Beth,

I follow your blog and wanted to share this short story with you. Today my 7-year old daughter, Sarah, lost a bracelet she recently received for her birthday. She was very upset. Normally we pray to St. Anthony for intercession when we lose things, but I told Sarah to pray to St. Rebecca Irene. Less than a half hour later, she found her bracelet resting on top of a yellow flower in our yard. :)

God Bless!
Kim

I was so happy to hear this!  I love that someone thought about my sweet Rebecca and asked her to pray for them.  (And I love that Kim's daughter's name is Sarah - with an h no less!)

I ask Rebecca to pray for me and my intentions all the time (and you would not believe how fast I get answers to some of these prayers!) and I love that someone else thought about her and asked her for help as well.  

So next time you are praying to God about something big or small, you might want to ask St. Rebecca Irene to pray for you as well.  She's a powerful little intercessor.

Saint Rebecca Irene, pray for us!

My beautiful Rebecca.

St. Rebecca Irene, pray for us!

When I was pregnant with Rebecca, Dan's brother and wife sent us a gift for her.  It was a tiny little gold chain with a guardian angel charm.  It was just the sweetest little thing.  Rebecca never got to wear it while she was in the hospital and I breifly thought about burying her with it.  But then I realized that she no longer needed a guardian angel so I kept it.

Occasionally I would wear it but the chain was very short and very dainty. I was always afraid I was going to break it with my adult sized neck. The charm was gold and I didn't have any gold chains to put it on and had never gotten around to buying one.

One day I wore it and put it back with the rest of my jewelery but when I went to wear it again about a month ago, it was gone!  I was heartbroken.

I remembered putting it back but it wasnt there.  I searched and searched and couldn't find it.  I assumed that it must have ended up on my closet floor and gone out with the Goodwill pile.  (My jewelry hangers are in my closet hanging right over the pile of clothes that are headed for Goodwill. I've always got a pile of clothes that are headed to Goodwill.)

So I did what all Catholics do. I asked St. Anthony (patron saint of lost things) to pray that I would find it.  I continued asking for his intercession and I continued searching but to no avail.

Then Dan went to Dubai again and came home with a beautiful 18k gold chain for me that he purchased in the duty free shop.  He said he wanted to get me something from one of his trips.  He occasionally brings something home for the kids but he's never brought anything home for me.

The gold chain was simple and beautiful.  He asked me what I was going to put on it and I just sighed and told him that I would find something. I knew in my heart what I wanted to put on it but I just didn't know where it was. 

Sarah even started asking me what I was going to put on it.  I ramped up my requests to St. Anthony for intercession and then one morning decided that I was going to ask Rebecca to pray about it as well.  And what do you know?  As soon as I asked her to pray for me, I decided to go look where I had looked multiple times before and THERE IT WAS! It was hanging exactly where it was supposed to be hanging!  Why had I not seen it before??

I was elated!  I put the charm on my chain and have been wearing it frequently ever since.

But that's not the end of the story! 

As I was searching for my charm, my blog friend, Madeline lost something as well.  She posted on Instagram that she had lost something very special so I told her that I would pray that she find it.  She later mentioned on her blog that she was still looking for this item.  And then, the same morning that I found the charm, she posted again on Instagram that she was still missing her very special item.

I told her in a comment what had happened with my charm and that I asked my little saint to pray that I would find it and that I did! 

Well, imagine my surprise when a few days later, Madeline posted a picture of the blueberry pie that she had made based on my recommendation and the following words:

I made the blueberry pie that Beth recommended.  The entire time I asked for St. Rebecca Irene's intercession to help me find my wedding band.  (HER WEDDING BAND!!) Not one hour later we found it in the middle of Christopher's room!

Oh how happy this made me!  Y'all - she lost her wedding band, asked for Rebecca to pray that she would find it and then it turned up one hour later right in the middle of her son's room which had been searched multiple times!  Read all about it here.

I know all my non-Catholic friends are probably a little skeptical.  But if you can ask all your friends on earth to pray for you, why can't you ask your friends in heaven?  And since I know without a shadow of a doubt that my little Rebecca is in heaven (she was sinless after all!) she is the perfect person to ask for prayers. She is up there for all eternity worshiping God so (unlike our friends on earth) she's got plenty of time to pray and she is literally right there with Him!

Finding the charm and Madeline finding her ring, made Rebecca feel so close. 

I miss that sweet little baby and honestly not a day goes by that I don't think about her. Knowing she's in heaven is a comfort, but sometimes I  need something concrete to confirm what I believe.  And finding that charm was concrete for me. 

And then on the same day that I found the charm, Dan and I were out watering Rebecca's Dahlia's and a beautiful butterfly was flying around.  I felt like God was confirming yet again that Rebecca's life had unfolded exactly how He had ordained and that His plan for her was continuing to unfold even in her death. And I felt peace. 

Sometimes God sends butterflies to remind us that it's all good!

Sometimes you just have to do it your way....

Thanks for all of your kind words and prayers after my last two posts.

I have to admit I've been dreading Rebecca's anniversaries for about two months now.  I'm not sure why but I guess I felt like I should do something to commemorate them but I knew I didn't want to celebrate them, if that makes sense. 

I know some people like to do that sort of thing but butterfly releases, balloon releases, 5ks established and run in memory of, etc. just didn't feel right to me.  Perhaps if she had been here longer something like that may have felt more appropriate.

On her birthday, we visited her grave and took flowers.  Sarah was away on a Girl Scout beach trip so she didn't join us.  She was upset about this at first but when she remembered that Rebecca's birthday was also her BFF, Cheyanne's bithday, it made the decision to go easier.  And I don't think she regrets it and I certainly don't regret encouraging her to go. 

And yesterday after dinner, we went back to her grave.  It was a cold and rainy evening which Sarah said was very appropriate for the occasion. 

On our way home, Dan said, "Was that a car off the road back there?  Should I turn around?"

I hadn't seen anything but told him he needed to turn around just to make sure. 

So we did and sure enough, there was a car that had gone off the road and up an embankment and into the woods.

Dan pulled over and got out.  He went up the hill and opened the car door.  This lady had apparently had the presence of mind to call 911 already but I think shock was starting to set in.  Dan said she kept asking him to call her brother but couldn't remember his number.  I could hear her moaning about the pain in her leg.  Dan said she was laying in the passenger side of the car and that her leg was twisted at a very unnatural looking angle.

A few minutes later two fire trucks got there.  In a matter of seconds they had put up a giant spot light, gotten out saws to start cutting the trees down (this woman must have been going fast because she plowed up and over several trees), and were bringing out back boards.  And then the ambulance arrived. We stood in the midst of the chaos and decided we weren't adding any value so we left.

When we got home, Peter ran next door to tell my parents about our adventure.  My dad has a police scanner and always listens to the calls that come through. He heard the call on the scanner and said that at one point the call mentioned a 4 year old who was trapped in the car.

Dan was surprised to hear this because he said the woman never mentioned a child and  the car was empty as far as he could tell.

Anyway, it made for an exciting end to our day.

I think that writing about the day she died was very freeing for me.  I have wanted to write about it for a while now but I just kept putting it off knowing that I would never be able to properly or accurately describe what it was like.  However, I also felt in some odd way that I was doing Rebecca a disservice by not writing about it. 

After I got all those words out, I felt such a huge relief. 

And so in my own way, I celebrated her birthday and the anniversary of her death - not with a party, or butterflies or a memorial 5k - but with words.  And it felt right. 

I think Rebecca would be pleased.

April 15, 2014. The longest day.

The day started like the few before it.  I was up by 5:00, I showered and dressed, and then got Dan up to do the same.

The hospital was gracious enough to allow us to stay in a tiny room right outside the doors to the NICU.  There was a small couch that converted to a small bed, just big enough for two people if they held each other tight.  There was a shower in the bathroom with a curtain that didn't quite reach the floor, so after each use, the floor was soaked.  There was a phone that luckily, once again, had not rung the previous night.

I shook Dan awake and told him to get ready and a said another silent prayer thanking God that she had made it one more night.

Just like the other days since her birth,we got ready, and took the few steps from our room to her bedside.

We always tried to get there before 7:00, usually it was around 6:45.  7:00 was when the nurses changed shifts so we liked to be there to get an update from the night nurse on our little Rebecca.

We would spend the morning sitting by her bedside rubbing her head, changing her diaper, kissing her, taking her temperature, and praying.  These were the only things we could really do for our little one.  The machines were breathing for her and were feeding her as well so rubbing her tiny little head and praying big prayers for her was how I spent most of my time in the NICU.

Around 9:00 the doctors and all their students, made their rounds and we would wait anxiously for their updates, hoping and praying for any bit of good news.

The morning of April 15th was different though.  Instead of the cadre of nurses, doctors, and med students that normally made the rounds in the NICU each morning, only Dr. Bishop and one other doctor came to Rebecca's bedside.  I can't even remember exactly what they said but it was nothing we hadn't already heard before - she was dying and there was nothing they could do.

When she left, Dan wondered why it had been just the two of them.  I told him those were "compassionate rounds".  No need to drag the whole team along to watch her tell us our baby was dying and there was nothing they could do about it. I'm sure she did it to be kind, but it just felt to me like they had given up on Rebecca and were just waiting patiently for her to die.

Several times in our stay at the NICU that week, they had asked us if we wanted to move Rebecca's crib to a different spot, perhaps over in that corner so we would have more privacy.  And each time, we adamantly said no.  I liked the spot she was in.  It was in the very center of the entire NICU.  When anyone entered or left, we could see it.  Everyone had to walk past us.  I didn't want to be moved into a corner, out of the way.  I wanted everyone to know that we were there and we were fighting for our baby.  Even if no one else was.

Rebecca's lungs would fill up with fluids because her esophagus led to a small pouch instead of to her stomach.   So periodically the nurse would use some suctioning tubes to drain the fluid that was building up and overflowing into her tubes.  We had a new nurse that day and after we got back from a quick lunch in the cafeteria, there appeared to be reddish fluid in one of her tubes.  We called the nurse over and she said it was a little blood.  She drained the tube and everything seemed to be fine.

I was pissed though. I blamed the blood on the nurse and felt that if she had been a better nurse, there wouldn't have been any blood in Rebecca's tube.  This was totally irrational as there was nothing this nurse did to cause this blood.  Rebecca was dying but it wasn't the nurse's fault. 

Someone from another department came around to help us get footprints of Rebecca's hands and feet so that we could have them as a reminder, I guess.  A keepsake, if you will, since we wouldn't be able to take our baby home.  It was a nice gesture but it annoyed me.  Plus the woman taking the footprints was horrible at it.  She couldn't get a good print no matter what she tried and that was making me mad too.  She was going to come back later in the afternoon when Peter and Sarah got there so she could get all three of the kids hand prints together. I was glad when she left.

Peter and Sarah had to stay late at school that afternoon because they were making up work they had missed while at the hospital waiting for Rebecca to be born.  My parents were bringing them straight to the hospital from school.  But before they could get them there, things started to take a turn for the worse.

Rebecca's numbers kept dropping, her lines kept filling up with fluid.  Her machines were beeping and the nurses came rushing over trying to get her stabilized. Dr.Bishop was called and many people where huddled around her crib.

Dr. Bishop looked at me kindly and said simply, "We're losing her.  I think this is it."

My heart sank.  She asked me if I wanted to hold her and of course I said yes.

Because of all the machines she was hooked to, holding her was a complicated process that required the help of two nurses, pillows propped just so, and a lot of maneuvering so that her breathing tube did not come out.  Previously we left holding Rebecca until the kids were with us in the afternoons so that we didn't risk her tube coming out.  But now, it didn't matter.

I sat down and they arranged pillows on my lap and they brought Rebecca to me.  I had just gotten her in my arms when I looked up and saw Peter and Sarah coming through the doors of the NICU.  My heart dropped.  They can't be here for this, I thought.  They can not watch their sister die.

They ran over with big smiles on their faces, excited to see Rebecca and get to hold her again.  But we told them what was going on and we all began to cry. They gathered chairs around me and we all rubbed her head and kissed her head and prayed and cried.  My parents came in and we gathered more chairs around.  The nurses brought portable room dividers over and made walls around all of our chairs so that we could have some privacy.

After a bit, Dr. Bishop asked if we wanted to go ahead and remove her breathing tube.  She told me that this was in fact the end and that if we removed the tubes we could eat least see her face while we were holding her.  She also let us know that the whole process of dying wasn't necessarily quick and that it could take a while.

So they took out her breathing tube and I felt defeated.  Without the tube, she would surely die.  But oh how nice it was to see her little face without a tube coming out of her mouth.  I had only briefly seen her in the operating room after I had her and by the time I was out of recovery and she was on her way to Brenner, she was already hooked up to other machines with tubes that covered her beautiful face.

The only time I  got to see her face unobstructed was when I first said hello and as I was saying goodbye.

I held her on my lap all afternoon and into the evening.  My brother came after he got off work and the whole family was still gathered around her.  Sweet Rebecca got so many hugs and kisses in her final hours. 

Dr. Bishop was correct when she said the process could take a while.  Rebecca's numbers would drop and then they raise back up and remain steady for a while.  And then they would drop and then they would slowly raise back up.

There was talk of dinner.  Mom and Dad took Peter and Sarah to the cafeteria.  Dan and I stayed with Rebecca.  It was evening now and all the lights in the NICU were dimmed.  There were more tears, more hugs, more kisses, more head rubs.

There was talk of whether or not they should all go home and if they went home whether or not the kids should go to school the next morning.  It was decided that they would all wait.  We would all be there when she died.

And a little before 9:00, we watched the numbers on the machine fall and stay down.  We watched them eventually drop to zero.  I heard my Dad say, "That's it."

I held her in my arms and I watched my baby take her last breath. And she was gone.

________

Prior to her birth, the counselors and doctors kept asking what we wanted, how we wanted it to go with Rebecca.  I thought that if one more person asked me what I wanted for Rebecca, I was going to hurt them.

What did I want for Rebecca? I wanted her to be born healthy.  I wanted her to grow up. I wanted her to live a beautiful life.   I wanted her to bury me, not the other way around.

Since that wasn't an option, and since they kept asking us, we had to consider what we wanted her life to look like.

Did we want to take her home to die immediately after she was born?  No.  We wanted her to at least have a chance so we chose surgery.

When she struggled as soon as they got her to the NICU and they almost lost her and then refused to do surgery on her, did we want to put in a breathing tube?  Yes.  Put in a breathing tube.  We want to give the Lord a chance to work a great miracle.  If she's breathing, there's still a chance for a miracle.

We were with her every minute of her life  except for a few hours to sleep each night and a few minutes to eat at mealtimes.

And that's what I wanted.  If you can't save my baby, then I just want to have some time with her. And I didn't want her to die alone.   That became my prayer to God.  Please let us have some time with her and please don't let her die in the middle of the night while we are sleeping.

And God, in His goodness, answered my prayers.  My baby died in my arms, surrounded by her family, covered in kisses and tears.  She was loved and I have no doubt that she could feel it as we loved her Home.

And the words Dan wrote in her obituary ring true, Rebecca's time on this earth was short, but no child was ever loved more.

Happy Birthday little one.

Today would have been Rebecca's first birthday.  I can't believe a whole year has passed already.

It seems like just yesterday I was hugely pregnant and ready to meet my little one.  It seems like just yesterday I was hopeful that God would grant us the miracle we had been praying fervently for over the previous nine months.  It seems like just yesterday that I was holding my sweet little baby in my arms for the first time, and mere days later, for the last time.

I am thankful for the gift of our precious baby.  I am honored that I got to carry her for 9 months and that I got to love her here on this earth for 6 days.  I am grateful that I have a tiny saint in heaven who prays for me and my intentions whenever I ask.  I am relieved that she only suffered for 6 days and didn't have to endure countless surgeries only to ultimately experience the same end.

I continue to trust God and his plan for her life.  I continue to hope and believe that her short life served a huge purpose.  And when I get to heaven, I expect that God will reveal it to me then.  Until I can get back to her, I take comfort in knowing that my little Rebecca is spending the rest of eternity worshiping Jesus. And through God's grace and mercy, I'll be joining her one day!

Happy Birthday, baby girl!  I'm looking forward to the day I get to see you again!

What's it all for?

Right after Rebecca died, I spent some time trying to figure out why.  I wanted our suffering and her suffering to mean something.  I wanted to know what it was all for.  I spent some time thinking about it and praying about it and nothing seemed like a good enough reason so I was just left to trust God, to trust that he would use it for good.

I wrote about it briefly here but I have continued to ponder it. 

As we approach the anniversary of Rebecca's birth and death, my feelings of trusting the grander purpose are decreasing and my feelings of just wanting to know why are increasing.

I want it spelled out to me clearly.  I want it all to make sense.  If she had to die, I want a damn good reason!

This morning as I headed out for my run, I looked to the east.  The sky was covered in clouds but just at the horizon I could see beautiful colors peaking out from the darkness.

There's a beautiful sunrise under there, I thought.

I started to run and the sun started to rise.  The clouds were still there but the sun was beaming through them and  magnificent color was bursting forth. 

Vibrant oranges.  Brilliant pinks.  This sunrise was made all the more beautiful because of the clouds in the sky.

I looked to the south and caught my breath. There was a half rainbow right in front of me!  The pink and orange from the sky were reflecting beautifully in this bow.  I thanked God for the rainbow and then thought to myself, that rainbow is beautiful but wouldn't it be even better if it were full.

I headed back towards the east to the end of the cul-de-sac admiring the beautiful sunrise and thanking God for it all.  And as I rounded the cul-de-sac and headed west, I could still see the rainbow.

But this time, I could see it all.  The clouds had briefly shifted, the direction I was running had changed and I could see the whole rainbow. 

God was letting me see the whole rainbow!

And right then it hit me.  I've been struggling with the purpose of Rebecca's life and death and questioning God and stomping my feet like a bratty child and demanding answers.

Where had my trust gone?  Where was my faith?  

And then he showed me a half rainbow and it wasn't good enough so I stomped my feet and wanted more.

Why are his gifts never good enough?  Why am I always wanting more?

But because he loves me he showed me the full rainbow that had been there all along but had been covered with clouds, clouds that were making the sunrise radiant even while they were obscuring the rainbow.

And at that moment I felt great peace.  God was telling me in that rainbow that the purpose, the meaning, the reason for Rebecca and her life and our suffering are there and they will be revealed in His time.

After my run, I opened up my copy of Jesus Calling by Sarah Young and flipped to April 10th, Rebecca's birthday, and I read these words:

"Trust Me in every detail of your life. Nothing is random in My kingdom.  Everything that happens fits into a pattern for good, to those who love Me.  Instead of trying to analyze the intricacies of the pattern, focus your energy on trusting Me and thanking Me at all times.  Nothing is wasted when you walk close to Me."

As I closed the book, I could hear God telling me that it's okay.  Rebecca's life had a purpose and a meaning but it's not my job to figure out the whys and the what fors. However, it is my job to trust and believe.

I'm thankful this morning for the clouds and the rainbows and the well-timed words from an old book. But most of all, I'm thankful for a God that loves me even when I'm stomping my feet like a bratty child.  

 "And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them." -  Romans 8:28

A well meaning stranger.

I was walking through the aisles of Walmart like I normally do on Monday morning, enjoying the quiet and trying to get my shopping done before the midday masses descend.

I could see a man shopping with his mother about fifteen feet in front of me.  He looked up and said very loudly, "Didn't you just have a baby?"

Please don't be talking to me, I pleaded slightly.  I glanced around and realized there was an older gentleman behind me but no one else.

"Did you just have a baby?" he questioned again loudly.

I steeled myself for the inevitable and forced a small smile.  "Yes.  In April."

"I knew it!  I'm in here every Monday shopping with my mom and I never forget a face!"  His voice was growing louder with excitement.

"What'd you have?"

"A girl."  I tried to reply quietly but he was fairly far away from me and even though I wasn't, it felt like I was shouting.

"Well, congratulations," he exclaimed as he started down the next aisle.  But before he moved on, he looked over his shoulder, held up two thumbs and said, "I hope everything went all right!"  He paused for me to give him the affirmative but instead I said, "She passed away."

The man behind me said, "Oh no!"

I heard a gasp from the next aisle.

And the whole store went silent.

The stanger that had been quizzing me muttered a quick "I'm sorry about that" and left.  And when I say left, I think he literally quit shopping right then, went to the check out and left the store because I didn't see him or his mother again.  I've got a feeling he'll be shopping on Tuesdays now.

The man behind me told me he was sorry and I muttered between tears, "She lived 6 days."  Not sure why I told him that instead of just moving on, but I felt like I owed it to Rebecca.  I wanted this stranger to know that she lived six days.   The she was here on this earth for six days.

"Well, we'll never know why she didn't make it, but I do know this - she's with the Lord right now and he's taking care of her."

I wiped my eyes, gave him a small smile, and said, "Yes.  And that gives me comfort."

And with that, I slowly rolled my cart down the next aisle and finished my shopping.

But thank God! He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ.

 ^{1 Corinthians 15:57}

Finding peace in a refrigerator.

Thanks for all the comments and emails after I wrote this on Monday.   Somehow, just writing that down and putting it out there made me feel a little better. 

And then?  Well, later in the day I saw something that Mary  posted on Facebook and Instagram.

Let me backtrack for a moment. If you don't read Mary's blog, you should. Mary is a huge inspiration to me.  In fact, before she was born, I was certain that Rebecca was going to live but that I would be spending the rest of my days caring for her and I was going to use Mary as my example of a godly woman caring for a disabled child.

Mary has a 21-year-old daughter, Courtney, who was born with cerebral palsy and has a seizure disorder.   Mary's blog details the family's struggles and joys caring for Courtney and detail what it is like to be a caregiver for an adult child.

Mary writes from her heart and leaves nothing hidden.  She writes about the pain, the hardships, the worry, the fear that come from having a special needs child.  But she also writes about the love, the joy, the smiles, God's provision.

They have a special van to drive Courtney to her various physical therapy and occupational therapy appointments and this van breaks down a lot.  They have large medical bills because Courtney has to go into the hospital frequently.  In addition to her regular feedings, they are now feeding her through a G-tube to help her gain weight.  The seizures take a lot of calories and she only weighs 90 pounds.  She needs to be closer to 100.

Their second refrigerator, which they use to store all of Courtney's G-tube feeding supplies and special foods, recently broke down.  And with no money available to buy another one, Mary did what Mary does best.  She prayed for God's provision.

And then she posted this on Facebook:

Fourteen years ago our lives were forever changed after we took Miss Courtney to Lourdes, France on a healing pilgrimage with the Knight and Dames of Malta, Federal Assoc. 

Our Lady moved us deeply and profoundly affected the next steps we took in our faith journey, as a couple and as parents. Courtney received her First Communion there in a dress the Dames provided her. We have been in and out of touch over the years with other pilgrims as well as the Dames and Knights from that trip. 

Today we were once again floored by the generosity and kindness of those individuals who took such good care of us all those years ago. 

It is no coincidence that on the Heaven Homecoming Day of St. Nicholas Borobia  this new refrigerator/freezer arrived to help provide extra storage for Miss Courtney's special meals which have to be made with tons of fresh ingredients. 

It is no coincidence that when praying for this particular provision, we prayed for the intercession of St. Nicholas Borobia and St. Rebecca Irene  and in less than four weeks, it was provided through the benevolence of those who care for the sick. 

Tears stream, my heart bursts with gratitude and I am humbly once more raising my hands in praise to the One who is forever faithful. To the Knights and Dames of Malta, Federal Assoc, my spoken thanks seem insignificant but we are so grateful for your gift. 

St. Nicholas and St. Rebecca Irene, please continue to pray for us! Thank you for your gracious intercession.

Reading this made my heart sing on a day that I had been so down.

I was happy to hear that Mary got a new refrigerator for Courtney.  I was happy to hear that God had once again provided for them.  But most of all, I was happy to hear that Rebecca had played a small part in it. 

Before I converted to Catholicism, I had a lot of misconceptions about "those crazy Catholics".  One of them being that they prayed to people other than God.

But what I have since learned is that they were never praying to people other than God, they were just asking the saints (people who have passed away and are now in heaven) to pray for them. 

Just as you would think nothing of asking your friends on earth to pray for you, Catholics don't think twice about asking people who have already made it to the feet of Jesus to pray for them.

Rebecca was sinless so there is no doubt in my heart and in my mind that the minute she passed away, she was immediately transported in to heaven.  There are no worries of hell or purgatory for my sweet one.  She is already where we all long to be.

I love that Mary asked Rebecca to pray for her.  And I love that God heard all the prayers and answered them.

Most of all, I love that this happened on a day that I really needed to hear, to feel, to see God.

It always goes on.

Things have been pretty quiet on the blog lately.  And I could give you lots of reasons why.

Twice daily swim practices, swim meets, guitar lessons, piano lessons, dance classes.  All these things take up our time in the summer but that's not really why I haven't been writing. It's just life happening.  But that's not the main reason.

The main reason?

It's Rebecca.

I have so much I want to say about her, so many things I want to put down into words.  I want to write about her few days on this earth.  I want to write every little detail about those 5 1/2 days. But I just can't. 

I can't write about her without the tears pouring down my cheeks.  I can barely even look at a picture of her without crying.  And I don't want the kids to see me writing and crying and it doesn't matter anyway because  I don't have time to write between driving my kids to all the places they need to be.

So, I don't.  I don't write about what I really want to write about.  Instead, when I realize it's been a while since I've posted, I'll post  a silly story, pictures of the kids swimming, or a recipe.    I keep posting all of these things when I really want to be writing about my baby.

I'll get there. I'll get the words out.  Maybe when the kids are back in school. 

Meanwhile, I catch Sarah looking off into space as if in a daze.  When I see her like this, I ask what she's thinking about.  She replies "nothing" and I wonder if she's thinking about Rebecca.

She has trouble falling asleep.  She's always had trouble falling asleep at night but it seems worse now.  I wonder if she's thinking about the baby.  Or worried.  Or upset. Or sad.

And she keeps asking me for picture frames and albums.  I finally ordered her a picture album and she's going to fill it up with pictures of the baby.  And because I still haven't gotten around to getting her a frame, she made some of out construction paper to put around some pictures of her and Rebecca.

And Peter?  Sweet, angry Peter.  He's always been a bit angry.  He lets all the little things that upset him well up inside of him and then when he can't take it any longer, he lashes out - at me. 

But he's been even angrier since Rebecca passed away.  Or at least it seems that way.  He was upset yesterday because Dan's brother Bob, who is fighting stage 4 colon cancer, will most likely not be joining us at the Cape this year.

I told him that we need to keep praying for healing, and his reponse? 

"Why should we pray?  God doesn't answer our prayers."

And I tried to answer him as best I can.  But my words are empty, hollow.  They sound the way I feel.

And Dan? We had our annual vacation to Cape Cod planned but he has a business trip that was supposed to happen next week and now it's looking like it's going to get pushed out to the week of our vacation and then he's got a meeting he has to be at the next week and that leaves our whole vacation up in the air.

And he can't ask for someone else to do this work because someone else filled in for him in January when he was sitting by his mom's hospital bed watching her die and someone else filled him for him in April while he was sitting by his daughter's hospital bed watching her die so he has to be assigned to this project.  He has to do his job.

Eventually the summer will be over and I'll have time to write about Rebecca. 

And Sarah will get her pictures in frames and albums.

And Peter will figure out why we have to keep praying, keep trusting God.

And Dan will get his work done and we will go on our vacation.

Because, life?  It always goes on. And so do we.

Rebecca's Garden

When I ordered flowers for Rebecca's funeral, the florist suggested two hydrangeas.  She said they  were just the right size to put on each side of her tiny casket and they would be perfect to plant in the yard after the funeral.

I ordered them and she was right.  They were perfect.  They didn't overpower the delicate white box, instead, they set it off nicely.  And the deep pink color of the blooms was beautiful.

After the funeral, we planted the hydrangeas and they looked good for a day or two.  And then the blooms turned black and the leaves started to brown and curl.

I was devastated.

I wanted those two bushes to bloom and grow and flourish every year as a beautiful reminder of my little one who would not be able to do the same.

I fretted over the lost bushes but Dan patiently watered them every evening and told me not to give up on them just yet.  I Googled and determined that maybe they were getting a little too much water so he scaled back.  I even prayed for God to save those hydrangeas. 

I  mourned the loss of my hydrangeas even as I was mourning the loss of my daughter. Until one evening after his nightly garden watering rounds, Dan pointed out to me that there was new growth on the hydrangeas!  They were getting new leaves!

I rejoiced, hopeful that perhaps next year we would get beautiful pink blooms.

And then yesterday, as I was walking past the bushes, I noticed a tiny flash of color.  Upon further inspection, I realized it was the beginnings of a bloom!  I quickly sent Dan a text with a picture of the bloom and the words "baby girl says hello".

I was happy and so very thankful.  I will be seeing new blooms this summer!

So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. - 1 Corinthians 3:7

There are other things that have been planted around our yard that were given to us in memory of Rebecca and they all seem to be doing well.

Dan's sister Cathy and brother Bob sent two beautiful azalea bushes.  They both have new growth!

Cathy also brought a Camellia bush.  It has new growth as well.  I can't wait to see this bush in bloom.

The teachers at Our Lady of Mercy, Peter and Sarah's school, gave us a dogwood tree.  It will be beautiful next spring!

This butterfly bush was from my sweet friend Christy.  It already has new blooms on it.  I can't wait to see all of the butterflies it will attract.

So many lovely reminders of  my sweet baby.




Linking up at Cari's place.

April 10, 2014 - Rebecca's Birth Story

The night before Rebecca was born, I was ready.

Ready to be done being so large and uncomfortable.  Ready to be able to sleep on my back again.  Ready to just be able to sleep.

Ready to meet her.  The one God sent us unexpectedly. The one we didn't plan.  The one that was supposed to finally complete our family.

The one that was most likely going to be taken away from us.

But I was ready.  We were ready.

We had prayed a thousand prayers along with saints and strangers. There was nothing more we could do.

On the morning of April 10, 2014, I got out bed around 5:30, before my alarm could even go off. I hopped in the shower and looked at my giant belly knowing that the next time I took a shower it wouldn't be as large.  I also knew that the next time I took a shower, everything would be different.

One way or another I would never be the same.

Our check-in time at the hospital was 7:30 and we were there  a few minutes early.  We checked in at the Women's Health and Wellness Center on the first floor of Forsyth Medical Center.  They told us to head up to the 4th floor waiting room.

The waiting room was deserted.  It looked like they had a busy night.  There were empty Styrofoam cups discarded on tables and several half-empty soda cans littering the tables as well.  The lights were dim and occasionally we could see the shadow of a nurse pass by the tempered glass of the waiting room doors.

I uttered some halfhearted prayers.  It  was all in God's hands at this point and he already knew what I wanted.

Finally, a nurse came and took us back to the surgery area.  I undressed and put on my hospital gown.  Dan took my clothes and put them in a plastic bag.  I laid down in one of the beds and the nurse took my blood pressure and my temperature and hooked me up to a monitor.

My doctor arrived along with the anesthesiologist and several other nurses.  They were all very busy but I'm not exactly sure what they were doing. Our priest arrived. And before I knew it, it was 9:00.

They wheeled me back into the operating room where I got an epidural.  It was more painful than I remembered with Peter and Sarah. I think it's because I hard a hard time bending over due to my size 45 week belly. 

The epidural began to take effect, my arms were strapped down, and the curtain was raised over my abdomen.

Dan came in the room wearing scrubs with his shoes covered and  his head covered.

The neonatologist came in, more doctors and more nurses came in, our priest came in.

I had a hard time seeing what was going on in the room because of the curtain.   The doctor made the incision and then I could feel some pressure as she was working to get to the baby.  And then I could feel some tugging as well.

At one point I could hear a gushing sound.  It was as if someone had taken a bucket of water and threw it on the floor.  I heard this sound three times.

The doctor told me that was all the amniotic fluid hitting the floor.  (Which I later learned was covered with tarps so it could be easily cleaned.)  Someone asked if the priest had shoe coverings on.  Luckily, he did.

The baby was breech so the doctor had to do some extra pulling and maneuvering to get her out, and finally, someone announced that she was out.

I held my breath waiting to hear her tiny cry.   And in just seconds I heard it.  With Peter and Sarah there had been more of a delay.  The kind where you hold your breath and pray hard.  But with Rebecca the cry came almost immediately.

I thanked God that she was here.  That she was alive.  That she was breathing.

We were going to get our miracle!

The doctor held her up so Dan could see her and then they took her to a small side table where they looked her over.  I was straining to see around the side of the curtain.  I wanted to know what was going on with my baby.

The neonatologist did a visual check and after seeing her small face, her strawberry shaped head and her crossed fingers, confirmed that she had Trisomy 18.

The quickly put some grease on her eyes and cleaned up her a bit.  Then they led Dan and our priest, Father Steve, over to her.  Father Steve baptized her and the nurses tried to whisk her away.  He held up his hand and said he wasn't done yet.  He then administered the anointing of the sick.

After that they wrapped her up and handed her to Dan, he brought her over to me.  I could finally see her beautiful tiny face. 

The anesthesiologist took pictures of us and the doctor began to sew up my incision. A few minutes later they took Rebecca down to the NICU for an echo cardiogram.  Dan stayed with me in the recovery room until they told him he could go to the NICU to be with her. 

I spent roughly an hour in the recovery room before they rolled me downstairs to my room on the NICU floor.  At some point, between the time I was being rolled out of recovery and towards my room, I finally got to hold Rebecca.

The transport team had her in a rolling incubator and were on their way to Brenner with her, but they made sure that I got to see her before they left the building. 

She was crying as they handed her to me but as soon as I got her in my arms and told her hello, she stopped crying.  I'll hold on to that memory forever.

I loved being able to hold her, but it was all very awkward.  The transport team was patiently waiting right beside us to take her to Brenner, the kids were hovering around us, I was sore and not really able to sit up, and we were in the middle of the hallway of the NICU. 

But I was glad we got those few moments together with her because the next time I would see her, she would be on a ventilator fighting for her life.

Fine.

I'm fine.

Well, at least that's what I'll tell you if you ask me how I'm doing. And I'll usually say it with a tired smile.

And I guess on some level, I am fine.  I'm able to get up in the mornings, get the kids off to school, take care of all the errands that need to be done, get the kids to where they need to be after school, make sure their homework is done and get dinner on the table.

So, yes, I guess I'm fine.

But the entire time I'm doing all of these normal things- all things I did so easily, so lightly before Rebecca was born - with a huge weight on my chest.

I was on the verge of tears all day on Mother's Day.  What a horrible holiday to have to "celebrate" when your baby is in heaven.

I was standing in the kitchen on Sunday evening and I couldn't top the tears.  Dan was standing right behind me so I turned to him and told him that I was sad. So very sad.

As he hugged me, he told me that if I believe what I profess then I shouldn't be quite so sad.

I smiled at him and told him that I'm not sad for Rebecca like he thought.  I know where my baby girl is.  She's in heaven rejoicing with Jesus and that gives me great joy.

No.  I'm not sad for her.  I'm sad for me.  Those tears were selfish tears. I miss her terribly, with a dull slow ache that I can't even begin to accurately describe. 

As I was doing my devotions this morning, I came across this verse twice:

Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time.  Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. - 1 Peter 5:6-7

And the words that seemed to jump off the page at me were that he may lift you up in due time.

In due time.

I know that eventually, in due time, he will lift me up and the sadness will lessen and the ache will subside.  I'm counting on it in fact.

But for now it's all still there.  And if you ask me how I'm doing.

I'll say, I'm fine.  Just fine.

 

And there were leftovers!

I went to Mass at school this morning.

The Gospel reading was from John 6:1-15.  It's the story of Jesus feeding 5000 people with the 5 loaves and 2 fishes.

Since this was Mass at a Catholic school, the priest geared his homily toward the kids and focused on the little boy that brought the loaves and fishes.

He said the little boy might have been heading to the fields that morning to tend his sheep and his mom had packed him that lunch before he left for the day so he wouldn't be hungry.  But then he heard that Jesus was going to be nearby so he decided to follow the crowds and go hear him instead.

Around lunchtime Jesus asked the boy for his lunch.

And the boy said yes.

He didn't have to say yes to Jesus but he did.

And Jesus took the five loaves of bread and the two fish and fed over 5000 people - with leftovers!

As I was sitting in Mass listening to the priest tell the kids that all they have to do is say yes to Jesus and he will take care of the rest, I couldn't help but to think about Rebecca.

We said yes to an unplanned pregnancy.  We said yes to a baby that was deemed incompatible with life.  We said yes when it might have seemed easier to say no.

Jesus asked us to do something.

And we said yes.

We didn't have to say yes to Jesus but we did.

And Jesus will take our yes and turn it into a miracle - something bigger and more powerful and more beautiful than we could imagine.

I may not find out on this side of heaven, but whatever he does with our yes, will have been worth  the sacrifice, the sadness, the pain. 

Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God.” - Mark 10:27