Four months
23 October 12
Four months ago, life was comfortable and familiar. If I could go back, I would, but we’re never given that opportunity, so I press on with this new life and in establishing a new level of normalcy for our family.
Four months ago, I had a baby boy. After birthing four daughters, our son was the brightest jewel in my mothering crown. We all adored Elijah, and he responded to our constant attention with smiles and coos.
Four months ago, I also had a husband. David and I co-parented so seamlessly that our I never felt that five children were a burden. Instead, they were a joy to be embraced and indulged, and we chased the fun activities and learning opportunities that would enrich their childhood.
Four months ago, I was learning how to make the most of every opportunity presented to me. I could see — in retrospect — where my selfish attitude had prevented us from having fun, where I had thrown myself a pity party in the belief that it would make me feel better, and where I could grow in love and compassion
Four months ago, I was estranged from family members, and there were others within my family who did not speak to each other. Several had not met Elijah and we still hadn’t gotten around to introducing him to good friends here in Australia.
Four months ago, I was ignorant of sorrow. Sadness and weeping was something that happened in the lives of others. I did not want it to be part of my story, and I thought that we were immune to it. Tragedy happens in the lives of other people, doesn’t it?
Four months ago, I also didn’t know how about compassion and empathy. Elijah’s loss has been a hard lesson to bear, but it is making us all into strong, lovely people.
Four months ago, life was perfect. In retrospect, it always can be. The trick is to recognise it as perfect now and embrace it fully. This is what I now do.
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1 · AmyR · 28 October 2012, 08:40
I honestly don’t know how you get out of bed in the morning. Your bravery in just getting out of bed is quite admirable. Praise be the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all of our troubles, so that we may comfort others with the comfort that we ourselves have received. I tough lesson, but a comfort as well. You sparkle in every way.
2 · Lusi Austin · 28 October 2012, 08:43
Hi Lauren,
I’m so sorry Elijah is not here with you still. I think of you so often, actually I dreamt of you last night. It was good to see you in my dream all dressed in red. How is David going? We think of him too and of course the girls.
Sending love x
3 · Naomi · 28 October 2012, 11:47
It was only four months ago that I heard of you, and in that four months, because of your beautiful willingness to share your grief, I believe that God has reached many, and I’ve certainly been touched deeply by Elijah Rainbow, and by you… Your beautiful, beautiful boy! He is remembered… Love and hugs, Lauren XXXXX
4 · Jess · 28 October 2012, 17:04
You are an amazing person. Your son truly lives on and you are an inspiration.
5 · ruby · 28 October 2012, 20:55
Hi Lauren,
You are a brave woman who has suffered incredible loss. Your courage and your spirit of hope inspires me. I like your photos and your consistency in maintaining your blog. Would like to write to you via email. Please send me an email address. Ruby
6 · Jenni · 29 October 2012, 06:57
Lauren, your loss has had a positive influence in my life – it frightened me to start with as I thought about how I might feel if I lost one of my children, and/or my husband and it has made me grateful and hopeful and loved/loving and accepted/accepting – so many things that I can’t articulate properly here – but thanks for always sharing, and although we will in all liklihood never meet, I am grateful for the words I read, Jen x
7 · Liese · 29 October 2012, 12:20
I am a new reader, but I did go back and read about the glorious days of Elijah and his sorrowful death. You are an amazing woman and though you have suffered much, you have embraced God and His help to heal your wounded heart, that in itself is pretty amazing.
I love your blog and your gifted gypsy van, keep on with your amazing adventures.
8 · Donna · 30 October 2012, 07:23
All we ever have is now. Much love to you and the family Lauren.
9 · Amanda Hunt · 31 October 2012, 21:38
Thank you for continuing to share your journey with us. I too think of you often too and ponder your perspective on everything. I have often thought of whether my parenting and Christian lifestyle is honest and true because of what you write. I too have dreamt about you!
10 · Heather O. · 18 November 2012, 16:09
I lost my daughter at birth, only a week after you lost Elijah. It is this, as well as your inspiring adventures with your daughters, that cause me to feel a kindred spirit with you. I think of your family often. I wish you peace and happiness, Lauren.
11 · Shelley · 28 February 2013, 14:59
As I lay here nursing my 7 month old son(after 5 daughters), I think of you, so wishing you could be doing the same, and as I kiss his warm little parts, and hear his relaxed breaths, I think of sweet Elijah who should be doing the same. As I look at his father sound asleep beside him, I think of David, and know I could still love him dearly even if he lost his gourd and flipped our lives upside down, for his history is that of an incredible father and devoted spouse, and that is what counts. This could happen to anyone. My heart aches for you and your daughters daily, I can only hope that I would provide such a peaceful, inspirational, loving example to my little women in the face of tragedy, like you. I’m no leg humper of yours, there are many choices I would debate with you in real life (thank god for this? I think not!), but differences aside, I believe in you. Geez woman, it must be so hard..you ARE that incredible super woman your girls see you as…I would love to hold your hand as you learn to believe it. All my love from Florida. Sigh.