Letting Go of the Guilt

Sweetpea,

When we lose someone we love, no matter the circumstance, there is so much guilt. We feel guilty about the things we did and the things we said. We feel guilty about the things we didn't do and the things we didn't say. We are barely keeping our heads above water as it is, and guilt comes at us like the relentless pounding of waves in a storm, threatening to take us under.

I have quietly wrestled with guilt since the moment they told me you were gone. I have agonized about mistakes I might have made in my pregnancy that could have caused your death. Did I travel too much in those first several weeks of my pregnancy? Did I eat something unsafe? Did I miss signs that something was wrong? Could I have done something in the days before your death to save you?  How could I not know that you were dying? Did you suffer in any way? Should we have had a formal memorial ceremony? Is there something more we should be doing to honor your memory?

Up till now, I have been afraid to write down these oppressive questions, worrying that writing them down might somehow give them credence. I've wondered if others might be asking themselves some of these same questions, and I have imagined the worst about what they think the answers might be. While I have not personally experienced it very often (thank God), I have heard stories of just how judgmental people can be from friends that I've made on this journey.

This guilt I've felt is hard to reconcile with what I know about God, and so I've been thinking about it a lot lately. I believe God gave us the ability to feel guilt for a reason. It serves a purpose. Guilt motivates us to remove and repent the sin in our lives. It implores us to ask forgiveness from those we've hurt and from God. But this guilt that I've felt since your death - it serves no Godly purpose. Even when we've sinned, when our guilt is justified, scriptures tell us that our transgressions are wiped away and our guilt resolved through the blood of Christ. So it begs the question of why God would want us to feel guilty over something that was out of our control. The answer is that He wouldn't. The enemy, however, would like nothing more than for our guilt to consume us and drive a wedge between us and God.

On Friday, Daddy and I went to the annual Sadie Rose Picnic. We were joined by several members of our family and friends. Most of us wore our "Moments with Morris" t-shirts in your honor. After everyone had eaten, we went outside and released balloons in memory of our sweet angels. My balloon held more than just a message to you. I said a little prayer before I released it, and I asked God to take all the guilt I've felt since your death with that balloon. Just a few minutes later, the heavens responded by releasing a torrential downpour. I offered up a prayer of thanksgiving, and I let those raindrops wash away what was left of my guilt.

Love,

Mommy

Our messages on their way to you

"In memory of Morris...Love Pa Pa"

"Gramy loves you Morris!"

"Love you forever Morris!" (Aunt Becca & Uncle Dustin)

"My Cousin Morris" (with some scribbled artwork - Cousin Abigail) 

"In Memory of Morris K. Rankin, February 3, 2015" (Cousin Ava)

"We love you Morris! Papaw, Mamaw & Aunt Judy"

"Morris, We miss you so very much. We will take care of your Daddy and Mommy until they are with you or we are. Love your BFF and your Mommy's BFF"

"Sweet Morris...Mommy & Daddy miss you so very much, and we love you more than you could know. Our hearts feel incomplete without you, and we can't wait for the day we will see you again."

The Happiest Moment of My Life

Good Morning Pumpkin,

This past Monday was one year to the day that Daddy and I first found out about you.  It is overwhelming to think about just how much has happened in that year.

I remember the morning we found out we were pregnant so well.  I was headed to a business conference in Orlando that morning, and I had to leave for the airport by 6 am.  I never sleep well when I have to be up early to get ready and pack last minute essentials, so I found myself awake at 3:30 am.  I got up to go to the bathroom, and on a whim, I decided to take a pregnancy test.  I didn't think I was pregnant, but I figured since I'd probably have a glass of wine or two and maybe visit an amusement park in the next few days, I should take a test to be sure.

Morris, I wasn't prepared for the instant love I felt for you when I saw that second pink line. I immediately started crying. For a moment, I was in total shock. Daddy says my scream woke him up and scared him half to death. Pretty soon, we were both in the bathroom crying.  I made Daddy dig out the instructions to the test to make sure that a second line did in fact mean I was pregnant. My insistence that we document every moment of our pregnancy started then, and even though Daddy thought it was silly, I made him take a selfie of us with the positive test.  It was the happiest moment of my life.

It was about 4:30 in the morning when I texted your Aunt Becca to see if she was awake with cousin Abigail.  She replied that she was, and so I sent her a message that said I was coming up.  In hindsight, that was probably was a little cruel, as Aunt Becca told me later that she believed she was about to get the worst news of her life. Uncle Dustin probably thought something horrible had happened too when I burst into their house crying as soon as he opened the door.  It wasn't long though before we were all in tears as we sat on the bed excitedly telling Abigail about her new cousin.

I must have taken 10 pregnancy tests that week. We waited until we had a confirmation ultrasound to tell Gramy and Papaw and Bball and Grandaddy about you.  For Gramy and Papaw, we shared the news by having your cousins wear shirts that said "Big Cousin".  It took a little while for them to get it, and we captured some pretty funny videos of them trying to figure it out.  We showed up at Bball and Grandaddy's house with Abby in a shirt that read, "Big Sister Abby".

I guess I'm a sap for country songs, because this one pretty much explains how I feel about those eight wonderful months I spent carrying you:

"And now
I"m glad I didn't know
The way it all would end
The way it all would go
Our lives
Are better left to chance.
I could have missed the pain,
But I'd have had to miss
The dance." (The Dance, Garth Brooks)

Love,

Mommy

Your very first picture, 7 weeks, 2 days pregnant

"Big Cousin" Announcement to Gramy and Papaw

Abby in her Big Sister shirt.

Happy Father's Day

Darling Morris,

I've always loved holidays and the celebration, parties, and gifts they usually bring. It wasn't until I lost you that I realized just how painful holidays can be when you are missing someone you love. I know that like our family, a lot of families are brokenhearted today as they mourn a father-child relationship that has been lost. Whether the loss happened yesterday or years ago, it is fresh on our hearts and in our minds on days like today. It is a bittersweet day for many.

I've cried for weeks thinking about this approaching Father's Day. It is unfair, but people often forget about the bereaved father. When a child dies, the father is expected to be the strong one. I can't imagine the pressure that Daddy has been under these last few months as he has privately grieved for you while taking care of me. He has answered the question, "How is she doing?" countless times, and I know that it often hasn't been followed by a "How are you doing?" question. I appreciate and admire his strength, but I often wonder if Daddy feels he has any choice but to be strong.

Late last week, Daddy walked in through the garage door and asked, "Can I make your night?"  He told me that after finishing up some chores outside, he went up to the front porch and peeked in Momma Bird's nest to find that the first of her little blue eggs had hatched. I may be the only person alive who has ever cried over both a crushed egg and a hatched egg. By Saturday, all of Momma Bird's babies - Morris, Adelin, Analise, Luke and Jameson - had hatched safely.

Morris, Adelin, Analise, Luke, and Jameson

I did a little research to find out more about Momma Bird. I became interested in knowing more about her when I happened to see her and another bird fly out from the porch one day before the eggs had hatched. I discovered that she is a Brown House Finch, which is not all that surprising since House Finches are one of the most common birds in the US. What was surprising to me though is that the bird I spotted with her was Daddy Finch, and he is very involved in raising the nest.

Like most songbirds, House Finches are monogamous. Other types of male songbirds defend their nesting territory, but Daddy Finch is unique because he doesn't care about territory. He defends Momma Finch herself. Daddy Finch helps Momma Finch gather materials for their nest. He brings her food while she incubates the eggs and for several days after the babies hatch. As the baby birds mature, he helps Momma feed them and keep the nest clean. It is usually Daddy Finch, not Momma Finch, who stays with their babies in the last few days before they leave the nest.

There is tremendous symbolism and promise in this sweet Finch family for me. I threw away their first empty nest because of all the heartache associated with it, but their next empty nest will represent something entirely different. It is just a tiny nest, built to be only a temporary home, yet it holds so much love, hope, and resilience. If God cares so much for a little bird family that he would allow such beauty to come from their tragedy, surely he hears my broken prayers for our family (Matthew 6:26).

Today is a bittersweet day, but it is a day that we will still celebrate. Happy Father's Day to Daddy, Papaw, and all of the other amazing fathers in our lives - including Daddy Finch.

Love,

Mommy

No Words

Sweet Baby,

I had to buy a sympathy card the other day. I must have stood at the store staring at sympathy cards for at least 15 minutes searching for the perfect one. Tears filled my eyes as I read through each card and remembered how hard those initial weeks after losing you were to get through.

Before losing you, if I had an occasion to buy a sympathy card, I would typically look for a card with a pretty cover and a reference to a bible verse on the inside. Back then, my understanding of what it was like to lose someone so precious, someone you had never imagined having to live without, someone who had changed your life, well, it was non-existent. I wish that I could still be so blissfully ignorant. But as I looked through those sympathy cards the other day, I struggled to find one that didn't seem to trivialize such a great loss.  “Thinking of You/Praying for you”,  “With Deepest Sympathy”, and “May God Give You Comfort”...they are well-intended phrases, but they can come across as so cliche and empty.

I decided after reading just about every card in the store that no perfect sympathy card exists. There are simply no words that can take away someone's pain or give someone back the person that they love. I bought a card anyway, because I remembered how comforting it was to open cards in those first few weeks after losing you. No matter what the cards said, they let me know that someone was thinking of Daddy and me. I kept every single card, and there are days when I pull them out and read through them again. It is the messages on the inside of the cards that mean the most. One of my favorite cards is one that contains no words on it other than this handwritten note on the inside followed by a signature, "There are no words."

Yesterday, I got the sweetest text from a friend who said that her family had been thinking about you. She said they'd heard a song that I quoted not so long ago in a letter to you, and that the lyrics had brought tears to their eyes:

"It ain't fair; you died too young,
Like a story that had just begun,
But death tore the pages all away.
God knows how I miss you,
All the hell that I've been through,
Just knowin' no one could take your place.
And sometimes I wonder,
Who'd you be today?" (Who You'd Be Today, Kenny Chesney)

She ended her message by saying, "I hope you know how much everyone in this world misses and thinks of Morris." There may not be a perfect sympathy card, and there may be no words for times like this in life, but messages like that one are as close to perfect as it gets.

Love,

Mommy

Izzy's Forever Home

Hi Sweet Baby,

Daddy and I welcomed a new puppy into our family this weekend. We had a hard time picking a name. I liked Izzy; Daddy liked Quinn. We compromised and named her Isabelle Quinn - "Izzy" for short. She is sweet, goofy, clumsy, and a perfect fit for our family. Abby seems a little unsure of her new sister, but I think they will soon be the best of friends.

Daddy has wanted a second dog for a few years now, but I've always said no. Suprisingly, I'm sort of the reason that Izzy is here. Last Saturday, I went with some friends to the downtown farmer's market and to the toy store. On a whim, we decided it would be fun to stop in at the pet store before we went home and see what kind of puppies they had in. I spotted Izzy (the pet store called her Bambi), and I knew Daddy would love her. I texted him a picture of her, and he immediately texted back and told me that we should get her. I laughed when I read his message and texted him back that we'd talk about it (that usually means no in women speak).

Daddy didn't really say much about it for the next few days. Then on Thursday morning, I got a call from Daddy. He was at the pet store visiting with Izzy, and it was clear that he was smitten with her. I met him at the pet store at lunchtime, and we played with her together for a little while. I left the pet store saying, "We'll see...", but I knew deep down that Izzy had found her forever home.

Even after giving in, I still had my doubts about committing to the headache of raising a puppy and having two dogs in the house. But after spending time with Izzy these last two days, I realize that she is just what we needed right now. We spent the eight months before you died expecting our life to change. When you didn't come home with us, we lost more than just a child. The life we had planned, the life we were supposed to have...it was taken too. The last several months of my life have felt so incomplete. The change that was supposed to happen but didn't is so obvious. It hangs heavy in our home and on our hearts. Sometimes it feels like we are still waiting for you to come home.

Obviously, a puppy could never replace you; no one and nothing will ever replace you. My heart still aches for you to be with us. But Izzy serves as the change that I so desperately needed, and she gives my love a physical place to go. She needs me to take care of her.  She counts on me to feed her, to play with her, to love her. She wants my attention. She snuggles up next to me, lays her head on my lap, and gives me sweet puppy kisses. Last night, as Daddy watched Izzy and I together, he got a little teary-eyed. He wistfully said, "This is the happiest I've seen you in a long time. I wish Morris was here to meet Izzy."

Oh Morris, how I wish you were too.

Love,

Mommy

Izzy with your stuffed elephant...I like to think that maybe you had something to do with helping Izzy find her way home.               

Happy Birthday Daddy

My Beautiful Baby Boy,

Today is Daddy's birthday. I wish you were here to make it the perfect day for him, but I'll do my best to make it as special as possible. I guess your daddy has rubbed off on me, because I've already given him his birthday presents. I bought him a new set of golf clubs in March so that he would be able to enjoy them all season. I wish you could have seen his face light up. It was one of the biggest and most genuine smiles I'd seen on his face since we'd said goodbye to you. I think a tiny part of my heart healed that day, and I would have gladly paid 10 times what those clubs cost to see Daddy smile the way he did when he was loading them into the car.

When we got engaged, Daddy wanted to get married on February 12th. He said that since my birthday was February 10th, and Valentine's Day was February 14th, getting married on the 12th would allow him to get all of his shopping done at one time. It's funny, because we ended up getting married just two days after his birthday instead. On Saturday, we'll celebrate 6 years of marriage. Like all married couples, we've had our moments, but these have been the best 6 years of my life. A quote I heard on TV the other day says it pretty well, "There is no such thing as perfect, but there can be wonderful." I wouldn't take back any of the time we've had together, not even this year. This year is cemented in my heart as the year that your daddy and I proved we have a love strong enough to weather hell on earth.

Daddy is truly my best friend. On my toughest days, hearing his voice can make all the difference in the world. There are so many things about him that I love, and I often wonder which of his qualities and traits you would have inherited and which of his habits would have become yours.  These are my favorite things about Daddy, and the things I most hope you would have mimicked one day:

• He tells me "I love you" and "You are beautiful", and he tells me those things every day. Every. Single. Day. More than once. And when he says them, they aren't just words. He wraps me in his arms, his voice changes, his eyes sparkle, and it is so very clear that he means them.
• Daddy is such a hard worker, and he is a loyal employee. He loves his job, and he is good at it. He takes pride in his work. He is a team player. If he sees something that needs to be done, even if that something isn't really his job, he is going to do it. He doesn't complain when he gets calls or has to go into work after hours or on the weekend. I've seen him time and time again step in to handle something that wasn't his responsibility and that didn't benefit him personally just because it was the right thing to do for his company. 
• Your daddy has a good heart. Just the other evening, I wondered what was taking Daddy so long to come inside from mowing. I peaked my head out the back door to find him mowing our neighbor's yard. Daddy is always willing to lend a helping hand to a friend or neighbor.
• He makes me laugh. A lot. 
• Daddy encourages me to do things I don't think I can do. He brags about my accomplishments to other people. He believes in me, and that makes me want to believe in myself.
• Your daddy would give me the world if it would make me happy. He reminds me of your great grandfather in that way. Papaw has always gone to great lengths to make Mamaw happy with things he knows she wants but probably doesn't need. I remember all the times Mamaw excitedly showed off something Papaw gave her or did for her. Her huge smile and the love I saw between them in those moments is one of my favorite childhood memories. I know it breaks Daddy's heart to know that the one thing I want more than anything he can't give me.
• Your daddy is an amazing father, and he loves you with his entire heart. Oh, how I wish that you had been able to look in his eyes so that you could have seen that love for yourself. In just a split second, you would have known that you were his whole world. A love like that is powerful though, so I have to believe that you can feel it from heaven.

The other night, Daddy and I were getting into bed, and I snuggled up next to him holding your blanket like I have every night for the past four months. A thought occurred to me, and I asked Daddy if he thought I'd still be sleeping with your blanket when I was 75.  He got really quiet for a moment, and then he replied, "I don't know...but I hope so."  And that is reason #14,356 why I love your daddy.

Love,

Mommy

Our Wedding Day

June 13, 2009

Mr. & Mrs. Ryan Rankin

Our Family & Friends

Beam Me Up

Hi Sweetpea,

I've been feeling pretty good lately. Then yesterday, out of the blue, I had a really emotional day. My friend Stephanie (Jackson's mom) came back to work from maternity leave, and her return surfaced a lot of emotions and memories for me that I hadn't expected. I thought about her having to leave Jackson for the first time, and that made me think about the first and only time I had to leave you. The water works started, and as hard as I tried, I just couldn't pull myself together. I ended up coming home and working remotely for the rest of the day.

Stephanie showed up around lunchtime to check on me.  It shows the kind of friend she is that on one of her most difficult days, she was worried about me. We shared conversation, tears, laughter and lunch on the back deck. Like I usually am after a visit with her, I was in a much better place when she left. Coincidentally, I found out later that yesterday was National Best Friend Day.

I've been working to create my own little oasis on the deck. The sunshine, warm breeze, flowers, view of the mountains, and sound of birds chirping...it is healing in a lot of ways. I guess it reminds me of the beauty I found in you. Gramy bought me a sign that says, "When someone we love becomes a memory, that memory becomes a treasure." I hung it over one of the wicker chairs.

There are now five little blue eggs in Momma Bird's nest. Daddy laughs at how obsessed I am with checking the nest. He says if I don't stop scaring Momma Bird away, these eggs may never hatch. I asked him if he could rig up a security camera we have so that I can watch the nest without disturbing her. I decided when the little eggs hatch, I will name them after you and a few of your friends in heaven.

I miss you so much. Some days, like yesterday, my arms physically ache to hold you again. I wish so desperately I could see you, even if just for a minute. I came across this song (music can also be healing) that says it so well:

"Could you beam me up,
Give me a minute, I don't know what I'd say in it
I'd probably just stare, happy to be there holding your face
Beam me up,
Let me be lighter, I'm tired of being a fighter
I think a minute's enough,
Just beam me up"
(Beam Me Up, Pink)

Of course, a minute isn't really enough. Forever is the only amount of time that will ever be enough. The bible says,"Be patient, therefore, brothers, until the coming of the Lord. See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient about it, until it receives the early and late rains. You also, be patient. Establish your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is at hand (James 5:7-8)."  I've never been a patient person Morris, but I'm trying hard to be one now.

Love,

Mommy

Resilience

Darling Morris,

A little over a month ago, I opened our front door to find a bird's nest built inside the Morris' wreath that Gramy gave us. It didn't have an egg in it yet, but I didn't have the heart to move it knowing some poor bird had worked so hard to build it. I told Daddy that we just wouldn't be able to use our front door for a while.

Several days later, I was on the front porch, and I spotted a little blue egg crushed on the ground not far from the wreath. There had been a good bit of wind that week, and I can only imagine that the wind knocked the wreath around, and the little egg fell out.  I couldn't help but wonder what that momma bird had felt when she had come back to an empty nest.

I was devastated for her. I cried for her. I was angry for her. I know it is a silly reaction, and I know that birds probably don't feel the same emotions as we do, but my heart broke for this momma bird. It seemed so cruel that she too would have to endure the loss of her precious baby.

A few days later, I removed the nest from the wreath and threw it away. It hurt to see that empty nest, a physical reminder of what I and this momma bird had lost. Just a day or so later, I saw a Pinterest trick for keeping birds from building nests in wreaths that I meant to try, but I never got around to it. (Put a dryer sheet in it, in case you are wondering!)

This morning, I opened the front door, and to my delight and surprise I found a new nest.  A new nest with a little blue egg snuggled safely inside.

I'm amazed at Momma Bird's resilience. I'm so happy for her and her new little egg. At the same time, I'm anxious for her. I'm worried that another windy day might take it all away from her again. I'm tempted to step in and try to fix it, to make her nest and my wreath a little safer, but I know that is a bad idea. I just want her little baby bird to be born so badly. For her sake and for mine.

And so I find myself praying for a bird this morning. Begging God to protect this momma bird and her egg. Pleading to Him to hold back the wind for just a few weeks. Asking Him to let this little blue egg be a symbol of hope. "As you know, we count as blessed those who have persevered. You have heard of Job's perseverance and have seen what the Lord finally brought about. The Lord is full of compassion and mercy." (James 5:11)

And once again, I'm telling Daddy to please not use the front door.

Love,

Mommy

Family Chain

Hi Sweet Angel,

Yesterday my best friend brought me a beautiful garden stone that she found on a trip home.  On it is a beautiful quote, "Our family chain is broken, and nothing feels the same, but as God calls us one-by-one the chain will link again."  She said it reminded her of something I've said to her a few times since you passed away. I've told her that although I'm not ready to die (I'm still hopeful God has more in store in this life for Daddy and I), I am no longer afraid to die. I think about the reunion we will have in heaven, and death no longer sounds as terrifying as it once did.

The quote on the stone reminded me of Aunt Becca and I singing "Amazing Grace (My Chains are Gone)" at your great grandma Shirley's funeral. I thought about Grandma a lot today. For several years before she died, Grandma and I spent Friday evenings having dinner together. There are so many things I miss about her. She really enjoyed eating, and she had a major sweet tooth for stuff like ice cream and candy. She played Bingo like it was a competitive sport. Grandma loved giving your daddy a hard time, probably because he'd give her a hard time right back. She nicknamed him "Trouble", and she'd give him grief every chance she got. One of the things I remember most fondly about her is how she used to make up these silly songs and rhymes, and how she'd make herself laugh singing them to me.

I found out I was pregnant about 7 months after Grandma passed away, and my heart ached at the fact that I wouldn't get to tell her about you. Grandma loved babies (she had 16 grandchildren and 19 great grandchildren!), and it hurt to think that she wouldn't get to meet or hold you.

A few months into my pregnancy, I had a dream. I don't know where I was in the dream, but as I was walking, I spotted a group of family members. I didn't recognize any of the people's faces, but somehow I just knew that they were family. I told them about my pregnancy, and we celebrated with a lot of laughing and hugging. Then I turned around, and I was face-to-face with Grandma. She was standing (something she hadn't been able to do for a while before her death), and she looked much younger than her 86 earthly years. Her hair was perfectly done, and she had the biggest and most beautiful smile on her face. She was absolutely glowing. We never said a word to each other, but I could tell from the look on her face and the tears in her eyes that she knew about you and that she loved you. She hugged me, and just like that, the dream was over. I couldn't stop crying after I woke up, and I never did get back to sleep that night.

That dream was and still is the most real, life-like dream that I've ever had. At the time, I thought the dream was a way of letting me know that Grandma knew about you, a way of making me feel better about the fact that I'd never get to tell her about you in person. Now, I look back on that dream, and I wonder if it meant something else entirely.  I wonder if that dream was God's way of letting me know that while you wouldn't be with me, you wouldn't be alone either.

You are a link in our family's heavenly chain Morris, and that puts you in some pretty awesome company.

Love,

Mommy

Grandma Shirley with her beloved baby doll "Jordon". This photo was taken in December 2012, just a little less than a year before she passed away. Grandma had gotten dentures a week or so before this photo was taken, and she was proud to show off her new pearly whites.