Ten Ten Ten

Happy 1st birthday to my Joshua! Yeah, I know what you're thinking... "MAN he's a GOOD LOOKIN' (7 day old) BABY!" I'm sure all the spirit girls are going wild for him in the Spirit World even as we speak. But I just have ONE thing to say to all of them... "Don't even THINK about laying one spirit hand on MY son until I get to know you first. Okay!?"

I'm just too tired and sick to cry today. Late last night I started looking through the hundreds of pictures we took of him, but after a few seconds I stopped and turned off the computer. I started to cry. I wanted to cry. I couldn't help but cry. However, right now I just don't have enough energy to waste it on crying. I will have to put off my sobbing for yet another day. (And besides, I really want to use any endurance I have to make a birthday cake instead.)

Living The Life In Vegas

WARNING: This post contains an overload of photos. Yup. If you were wondering what I really looked like, then now you will know.

For Joshua's 1st birthday, we decided to celebrate it in Las Vegas. I hadn't been back since I lived there, which has been almost 10 years! And boy, has it changed! New hotels crowding the streets, malls on every corner, and naked pictures every where you look. Oh wait, I guess some things are still the same.

I wasn't sure what Salesi would think of Las Vegas. For those of you that don't know him, let's just say that he's the kind of guy that likes to read his scriptures for 10 hours a day. Okay, maybe not that long, but seriously--he will only let me watch PG rated movies. Seriously.

So as far as Salesi goes, I'm not sure if he will be heading back to Sin City anytime soon. As for me, on the other hand--I love the great variety of restaurants and shops, but yeah, there really was a lot of yucky pictures everywhere you looked.

Okay. Now on to the exciting stuff. I'm sure you are all dying to know everything we did while we were there. So, here ya go...

We ate dinner at Thomas Keller's "Bouchon".

(Sorry, really bad picture... I didn't take it!) I actually wrote a really long critique of the restaurant, but then deleted it after realizing that most of you probably won't care. (Shame on you non-foodies, or non-"food snobs" as my sisters call me it.)

We took pictures in front of giant corn ears.

We ate overpriced Chinese food.

We took pictures in front of the Eiffel Tower. (Aka our hotel.)

We took more pictures in front of the Eiffel Tower.

We watched dancing fountains.

We ate french pastries.

We ate some more french pastries. (It was kind of a daily ritual.)

We learned French.

We saw The Lion King.

We found a H & M with more manikins in the store than real people.

Salesi thought about getting some new style.

Salesi marched with protesters.

We stayed in a red room for only 46 bucks a night! (Thank you Priceline, and an even greater thank you to the lady at the front desk who upgraded our room for free!)

We ate some more over-priced food. (Sorry, too tired for hair and makeup.)

We took pictures of ceilings.

We ate at a lousy all-you-can-eat ("french") buffet. (Don't go there! The Bellagio's has got to be better!)

We took more pictures in front of the Eiffel Tower.

We listened to talking trees.

And we helped this old man sweep the Parisian streets.

Besides being extra tired and achy, and having an emotional break down our last night (which now I know is from having battled Valley Fever the past 3 weeks), all in all it was a good trip, and I'm glad I went.

(Now I just have to figure out what I'm actually going to do tomorrow, on Joshua's REAL birthday...)

God Knew What He Was Doing

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

God must of known what he was doing when he created grief. Well duh. He is God.

There must be divine purpose in the details that make up what we refer to as "grief". For example, there's plenty of good reasons why at first, immediately following the death of your loved one, you usually experience shock or numbness. This is so you can actually make it through the funeral and burial services without being an absolute crazy person. I now sometimes go to the cemetery thinking, "My baby's down there! Someone help me dig him out!"

I remember lying in bed the night after Joshua died, feeling like I should be crying. In truth, I wanted to be crying, but it just wasn't coming out. I told Salesi that I was "upset" and he responded, "What did I do!?" I told him, "No, not at you! I want to cry, but it just won't come out!"

It's now been almost 1 year. And I still can't make it come out when I want it to. I can sometimes try to suppress it. (Sometimes.) However, when it needs to come out--it does, and it will.

Next week is Joshua's Birthday.  I'm not sure what to think of all this.  I feel like I should be crying, but again--it's not coming out. Actually, we are going to Las Vegas to celebrate. So, it's probably better that I don't start crying while I'm livin' it up in Sin City a beautiful city filled with tons of good church members and a gorgeous temple.

If I do start crying on our trip, however, it will most likely be from watching an emotionally stirring performance of the Lion King. (Oh man, it's going to remind me of Joshua isn't it?)

What To Do

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

So many choices...

We went and saw the IVF doctor again. I think we might go through with it... Or at least continue down this path until something stops us. There is still one big decision to make regarding IVF: To have twins, or not to have twins?

Now, I know there are no guarantees in life. Just because the doctor transfers 2 embryos, doesn't mean both will survive. Just because the doctor transfers only 1 embryo doesn't mean it won't split into 2. And of course, just because the doctor strategically places any embryos at all doesn't mean any of them will continue to grow into a healthy, normal baby.

However, it's up to me to give the number. 1 or 2? There seems to be too many risks involved with carrying twins that I ask myself, "Why in the world would I purposely put my babies in jeopardy?" But then there's the thought of only transferring 1 and it NOT surviving and thinking, "What an idiot! Why didn't we just go for 2 the first time around, and not have to worry about doing the whole thing over again!?" Of course, then there's the idea of having 2 babies NOW and not have to do the whole thing over again in a couple of years anyway.

Supposedly it's more money to have twins because you have to have 2 of everything at the SAME TIME: 2 cribs, 2 car seats, 2 carriers, 2 swings, etc.

There's so many things to think about, and I really don't know what to do. They say that the IVF process can make you mad, angry, and crazy. Well what does it do to people who are already crazy? Could I handle going through the process twice? Or the bigger question is: Could I handle being up all night with 2 babies crying at the exact same time??

On a different subject...What if we forgot the whole IVF thing and went with an egg donor instead?

Now THAT'S a question. What do you think?

I Write The Truth Whether You Like It Or Not

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

Some people might think I'm just a bitter brat. I beg to differ. I have many days when I count my blessings and am in such awe of what God has given me including talents, friendships, financial well being, physical health, a nice home to live in, a good husband, and many more.  But when life is great, I don't always feel like writing. When life is bad, writing is my therapy and I guess deep down inside, I do it because I long for understanding. Yup, I said it. I long to be loved and understood.

As Joshua's birth date and death date soon approach in the next couple of months, I feel the need to look back and review everything that has happened this past year. It's not a year I would wish upon anyone. Nonetheless, I feel proud of my accomplishments and growth that has taken place. Two Important things I've learned is: "There is no right way to grieve" and "I will never completely get over my loss". With these statements in mind, I feel like I've done pretty good in handling the card that was dealt to me on November 9th of last year.

I might not always write the things people would wish I would write. I might not have as many followers as other blogs because I might not be viewed as an "inspirational" or "motivational person". That's okay. I want people out there to know that losing a baby isn't fun. In very dark moments (and I feel like I can personally say I know what a "dark moment" is), the pain can cut very deep, and feel like it might never go away. So I blog to bluntly let people know that, "No. I'm not OK with my son's death."

I want people to know that I'm a real person with real feelings of anger, sadness, helplessness, frustration, and jealousy. However, I also want people to know that I am striving daily to endure my challenges and struggles, having hope that one day all things will be made right through the atonement of Jesus Christ, and that I WILL see my son again.

I sometimes hold it half a sin; To put in words the grief I feel; For words, like nature, half reveal; And half conceal the Soul within. -Alfred Tennyson

Why Is My Life So Awkward

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

Why is my life so awkward? If I don't tell people about Joshua, it's awkward. If I do tell people about Joshua, it's even more awkward. Is it me? Or is it them?

My visiting teacher came over on Sunday, and I knew she would ask about Joshua. 1--because I have two framed pictures of him in my living room, one of which is of Salesi and I holding him with my hospital bands still on. And 2--because my visiting teacher likes to talk and ask a lot of questions.

I had thought about putting the pictures away before she arrived (or at least the one of us as a family), but I decided instead, that I would act like it was no big deal if she were to ask me who the baby was. Of course we all know that it isn't just "no big deal".

To make a long story short...after I nervously asked all the questions for a good 15 minutes (while she continued to stare at the picture of Joshua across the room), she then started asking me questions about my wedding. At this point I knew she was staling. And then it came--the dreaded question that I knew was coming--"May I ask you who the baby is??" She said quietly with a hesitant look on her face. "OH, that's our baby. That's Joshua. He was born on 10-10-10 and passed away on November 9th. He'd be 1 in October," I said matter-of-factly like it wasn't a big deal. "Well he's very cute," she said. "Thanks," I responded immediately.

Then, it happened--that super quiet moment where you start twiddling your thumbs hoping that a big plane will crash down outside your apartment to take away the silence and awkwardness of it all.

Instead of the big plane I was hoping for, I turned my head to look way over at the microwave clock and said, "Oh woa! We gotta get going (to church)!"

And that was that.

Is it me or is it them? I just don't feel like explaining the whole story to everyone on the planet. Only because we recently moved, it now feels like I'm keeping a big secret from everyone. People don't see us with kids at church, so they have no reason to think that we have any at all. I guess this is how my life is going to be from now on, so I better learn to deal with it.

A New Place

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

We recently moved to a new town. As we packed up the final boxes at our old place, I became a little sad thinking that we would never be back there. It was the one and only home in which we had Joshua. Even though he never actually slept in the room I decorated for him (all with custom made pillows, crib bumper, bed skirt, and the cutest artwork you've ever seen), it's still sad that we will never again be inside of the only house that smelled and sounded like Joshua. Inside of that house contain the only (good) memories I have of him. (Other than at the pediatrician's office and the hospital--but I don't like to remember those so much.)

When I shared my feelings with Salesi, he said, "That's okay. We'll buy it when the owners foreclose." Awe...gotta love him. And even more--gotta love the fact that he never reads my blog so I can write about him!

Too Big Of Deal

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

Maybe this death thing is highly overrated. Maybe I've been making too big of deal over it. I mean, why should it bother me so much that my son is in a beautiful, peaceful and joyful paradise, free from pain and woes? Why should his passing cause so much sorrow to my soul and pain in my stomach?

Everyone has to die at some point or another--but for some reason, the actuality of this ordeal continues to create tears.

I smile when I see his picture--he was such a beautiful baby. I even express signs of laughter when I reminisce over his personality. Nonetheless, if I ponder on these happy recollections a little too long--the story evolves--and has the same, unfortunate ending.

The conclusion is simple: It's sad. Joshua's death is a sad, tragic story. It might not be so heartbreaking to others, or even understood in the smallest degree--but it's not something easily imaginable--until that is--it happens to you.

Misconception of the ungrieving world: Okay, so I'm not saying that it isn't getting easier for me. However--there will always be sad moments, shedding of tears, yada yada... Let's face it, though--as of now, my story doesn't exactly have a happy ending.

Gag Me With A Spoon

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

I don't have many friends. Shocking, right? One of the toughest things for me to do right now is to be happy for somebody else. I mean, my life sucks, so why shouldn't everyone else's?

I get on Facebook and I see pictures of people's sewing projects. Yuck. Gag me with a spoon. I see conversations about activities to which I'm not invited. Gross. And here comes the worse one of all--baby pictures. Disgusting. I mean, I know I posted baby pictures of Joshua on FB, but that was after he passed away. Yes, I'm sure that I myself, will want to show the world pictures of my next adorable baby, but for now, it would be nice if people kept their happy lives to themselves.

Call me what you like--grumpy, grouchy or the grinch. Actually--it's a Ms. Grinch to you.

Lessons Learned

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

Treat others with kindness. Don't judge. Don't take life for granted. Remember that everyone you meet is facing a hard battle. Love everyone. Remember that life is short. Put your faith in God. Don't ever give up. Put others first. Be patient. Don't lose sight of what is most important.

These are just a few of life's simple lessons that are learned when a loved one dies. But there's got to be something more. Something I'm missing. Or is this it?

You know when you have those a-ha moments? When those moments come to me, I'm usually meditating, such as writing in my journal, praying, or sitting quietly. I think, "wow, this is some good stuff that I don't want to forget!" But as I start jotting it down, I quickly realize how simple and everyday that wisdom really is.

I've come to the conclusion that it's really the Holy Ghost who is teaching. And in that particular moment, is able to strongly penetrate my soul in a way that allows my mind and heart to know and remember what my spirit has known all along.

Death

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

Death is an interesting thing. For the most part--it scares me. I will always wonder in which way I will die--will it be painful, or will it be peaceful? I will hope, and pray, that it will be as calm as possible. However, I can't take away the agency of another person, nor can I control Mother Nature--and all that she has to offer.

The process of the spirit leaving the physical body is another mystery to me. When exactly it happens, and how, I will probably never know in this life, well--until it happens to me that is.

Watching someone else die is something that most people don't get to experience, and I know I should be grateful for that blessing. Joshua died in a peaceful manner--as peaceful as it could have been, I suppose.

I sometimes imagine that his spirit might have left his little body much sooner than I think it did, or at least before the doctor actually pronounced him "dead". The night before he died, there was a sign that kept appearing to me. I believe that it was telling me of the things to come--or who knows--maybe of the things that had already come to pass.

This can all be summed up in one word: Faith. Faith in God and in his plan. Faith to believe that life does not end in the grave. Faith to endure--and faith to believe that we will see all those who have passed on again some day.

All Things Joshua

This past weekend, we attended the 2011 National Immune Deficiency Foundation Conference. It was IDF's 30th anniversary, and the conference just happened to be here--in Phoenix!

For the very first time, we finally were able to meet other CGD families who traveled from all around the country to be here. Remember--CGD is very rare. Only about 40 people are born with it each year.

We also had the amazing opportunity of meeting 3 doctors who are experts in the subject of CGD, and spend their entire medical career researching and helping families with this unusual disease. One of which, Dr. Stephen Holland, is now Salesi's new hero!

IDF's motto is: "When you hear hoof beats, think zebras, not horses". In medical school, many doctors learn the saying, "when you hear hoof beats, think horses, not zebras" and are taught to focus on the likeliest possibilities when making a diagnosis, not the unusual ones. However, sometimes physicians need to look for a zebra. People with primary immunodeficiency diseases are the zebras of the medical world.

So, if you happen to see us dressed up in zebra wear, a little more than the usual, you will now know why!

I Can Only Imagine

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

When I leave this life, I will get to be re-united with my son. I can only imagine what it will be like...

It won't take long for us to get caught up on the time we spent apart. I will start telling him about all the great things he "missed" on Earth, and he will quickly remind me that he was there the entire time, watching and protecting us.

He will give me a tour of the new place, showing me all the tricks and shortcuts. He will proudly introduce me to all of his converts and new friends. Then he will take me around to meet all of our ancestors for whom I helped do temple work.

We will talk about Earth like we now talk about our missions, remembering all the good and the bad, the funny and the sad. But instead of crying over all the sad moments, we will laugh with no worries, knowing that all things have been made fair. We will see the world as God does--having no end, nor beginning.

I will say, "Wow! I can't believe how much I cried over you, and you really were okay this entire time!" He will reply, "Mom, I told you I was!"

Taking Away The Pain

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

I felt like I was doing better. Of course whenever I say I'm doing better, it hits me. Again. This time, though, I felt like I hit a new low.

I'm not sure what to do sometimes to take the pain away. All the normal things come to my mind such as: drinking, taking drugs, making myself puke, stuffing my face with donuts, and other things that I won't mention.

So in the end, the only logical answer is to cry. Of course there's the usual, I miss my baby cry, and this is when Salesi will say, "It's okay to cry..." and, "You can hold me instead." (Which by the way, holding a grown man is not the same as holding your baby, as if you didn't know this already.) And then there's the aching cry when I feel all alone and completely abandoned because there's no one I can talk to and nothing I can do to take away the pain.

I've done a lot of silent crying lately as well. This is when I really feel like keeping all the misery to myself, and not even letting my husband know about it. I'm not exactly sure why sometimes I care whether or not Salesi hears me, but I think it has to do with me being embarrassed for the reason of my crying.

There's been a couple of times in the past when I've seen pictures of friends' new babies on Facebook or received a Christmas card in the mail from a family who recently had a new baby and I would go into the laundry room or bathroom to just cry and let it out. This is something that I will ever be grateful for: Knowing that it is very painful for some women to be around babies who have either lost theirs or haven't yet had their own.

But more recently, the reason for my cry, I feel, was even more embarrassing than that, and I certainly didn't want anyone to know about it. For the first time, I felt like there was a small part of me that was mad at God. Just the thought of that makes me want to cry even more. This went on for a few days, until I just knew the only way to settle it was to pray. (Again, you don't realize how hard it is to pray, until you've lost your child and are having "one of those days".)

So, I went into the bathroom and knelt down and just kept repeating, "Please don't let me be mad at you", over and over. God has given me way too much for me to ever have any reason to ever be mad at Him.

Last night Salesi and I were talking, and he said something about, "To much is given, much is required". I definitely feel like I've been blessed beyond measure with an abundance of gifts and talents that I could never complain to God for the trials He's given to me. I imagine before this life, I agreed to all of my challenges, knowing He would compensate them with abilities and blessings.

And in the end, everything I've lost on this Earth really will be compensated, if not here, then in the here-after. (It's just really hard sometimes to always remember that little fact.)

How Different My Life Is Now

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

I don't think of Joshua much as being a little baby, because I know right now he is a mature spirit. Nevertheless, he will always me my baby, and I do occasionally wonder what it would be like if he was still here with me. Today, he would be almost 7 months old. He would be crawling, getting into things, and probably teething.

I sometimes forget that if he hadn't died, my life would be oh so different. Meaning, having had a baby die, is quite contrary to not having had a baby at all. Sometimes I forget this, and when I'm reminded of it, it makes me sad.

The other day I thought about my Summer plans, and what I would do differently if Joshua was still here. I tried to figure out who would babysit him so I could go to all of my necessary appointments. Then I sadly realized, that if he was still here, I wouldn't be going to all of those appointments.

I wouldn't be going to immunodeficiency conferences, and I certainly wouldn't be going to so many counseling sessions either.

That harsh reality is painful at times. However, I need to remember that Joshua came and went to make me a better person. The way my life is now, is the way it's supposed to be. There are no such things as accidents. God doesn't work that way.

Thanks For Reminding Me

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

As days go on, I start to think that maybe I'm getting better. I don't spend so much time crying like I used to, and the overall feeling in my gut has improved. I know it's not the most accurate way to measure all this, but for me, it's the only way I know how. Sometimes I feel guilty or upset that I've gone a certain amount of days without crying. Other times, I wish to cry, but I can't force it to come out. And then there are times when, all it takes is a good ol' cheesy movie about a girl who gets her arm chopped off by a shark, or a story of a heart transplant on Oprah to really get my tears flowing again.

In the beginning, it seemed like I spent most of my time crying, or feeling like there was a knife going in my stomach. So, to have a few breathers in between is a nice thing. However, there are always those reminders waiting to jump out at me, when I am certainly not in the mood for them.

For example: The other day a lady said to me, "It's hard having kids...". What was I supposed to say back to that!? "It's also pretty hard losing a kid!" Deep down inside, though, I felt like I wasn't even being viewed as a mother, and that's what bothered me the most. There will always be babies every where I go that will also be a constant reminder of what I don't have. And can I blame those people who have living babies? No, but the bottom line remains: It hurts.

Misconception of the ungrieving world: "Kaci is fine being around babies because she acts fine!" It's a very hard thing to tell someone that I don't care to look at their baby. Yes, it's hard for me to tell people a lot of things, thus the reason for this blog. I've told things to Salesi like, "If one more person comes over to my house with a baby I'm going to tell them off!" Have I done it yet? No. It's a mixture of me being a chicken and also trying very hard to be polite.

Yeah It Sucks

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

I got my tests results back. The doctor wanted me to come in so she could tell me the results in person. That meant something wasn't good. I was right. The blood work came back positive. I'm a carrier of CGD. This means every time I get pregnant, there is a 25 percent chance my baby will be born with Chronic Granulomatous Disease. This is what Joshua died from. To be more specific, every boy I give birth to will have a 50 percent chance of having this disease. To be blunt: I need to have all girls.

How do I ensure that I will only have girls? Well there is in vitro, which could guarantee me a girl or even a healthy boy, but as we all know, it is very costly. There are also many natural techniques one can do to try to have a baby girl, but I'm not sure if I believe these actually work.

Many people ask me when I'm going to try for another baby. Well now you know one of the many, many things I have to consider before I'm ready. And like my friend Chelsea said regarding the matter, "It's not like Joshua was a pet goldfish or something!"

Misconception of the ungrieving world: "Kaci will feel all better when she has another baby to hold, and take care of..." I don't have any idea how I will feel when and if I have another baby because I don't know the future. I will always be grieving my son's loss in some way or another, and as of right now, the thought of having another baby brings anxiety, stress, and guilt.

On a funny note... Salesi asked me if I was going to post anything about my results. I told him, "probably not". He said I should write a post about it and call it, "CGD in the House".

Not To Judge

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

Not long ago, we received a surprise visit by some old friends. They stopped by to catch up on things, and the conversation quickly turned to the recent death of our son Joshua. We talked about our life before his death, our life after his death, and our life now. I would have to say, that it was one of the best conversations I've had in a very long time.

Our friend told us of her sister who also experienced the tragic loss of her baby last year as well. She asked me about the atonement, and how it has worked in my life. I shared with her my feelings of having a much greater understanding of just what Christ went through, knowing that He had to suffer even the pain I've felt from losing my child.

She told me that her sister has learned that every individual has their own reliance on the atonement. For example, she would hear others talk about how hard their lives were, and what trials they were experiencing. She would sometimes feel that their trials were little in comparison to the loss of her very own baby.

During each person's life, they are in need of the atonement at different levels. We can never judge them in any way. We must never assume that their trial is easy, and that they are being weak.

Everyone will have their turn. Everyone will have to walk through Gethsemane. I believe that to be able to live in the presence of God, you will have to experience something very difficult that will help you to better understand just what Christ went through. You will have to experience something very hard that will test your faith. You will have to be fit for His Kingdom.

With that said, in no way do I feel like the death of my son is, or has been my complete Gethsemane. I'm very aware that God has many more trials in store for me. In fact, on a personal note, I sometimes feel that thus far in my life, Joshua's death has not been my very most trying time. It is definitely up there in the top 2, though.

Once I prove to God that I have learned what he wants me to learn from each specific trial, He will send another big one my way so that I can continue being tested again and again.

And to those of you that don't have many trials at all: Just wait...but it's not for me to judge you anyway.

A Good Grief Benefit Concert (Watch for Joshua!)

It Never Even Happened

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

I recently watched a movie called You Again. The movie starts out with a girl traveling home for her brother's wedding. On the flight, she finds out that her brother is marrying her high school bully. She is racked with torment and can't believe this is happening to her. Nonetheless, because this is now about 8 years later, she figures her new confidence and self esteem will get her through this awkward time, and be enough to get that long awaited apology she has always deserved.

However, when she arrives home, the ex-bully/soon-to-be-sister-in-law, acts like the two of them have never even met. This drives her absolutely crazy. This would drive me crazy. This would drive anyone crazy... Well then, please don't do this in real life!!

I guess what I'm trying to say, is that so many people have done this to me and Salesi. They see us at church, and they act like nothing ever happened. They never mention Joshua, his death, the funeral, or anything. I know most people don't even know how Joshua died. I know a lot of people assume that he was born premature, or was in the NICU this entire time. Nope, not true. Ask me how it happened, and I will be more than happy to tell you my story.

I do admit that I have done this once or twice, but I don't want to be that kind of person ever again. I've recently been around people whom I have not seen for quite some time. I know they've heard about Joshua, but are just too scared to bring it up with me. This is awkward for both of us. I know it can be uncomfortable to say something, even scary, but you just gotta be a man (or a woman), and say something. Just a, "I'm so sorry for your loss" is enough, trust me. A hug and, "I'm thinking about you" is also good. Never say, "I understand what you're feeling." If anything you could say, "I really don't know what youre going through, but I'm praying for you."

Misconception of the ungrieving world: "If I say something about her child that died, she will probably start crying and be upset that I brought it up." Some people like to talk, talk, talk, and others don't. I have days where I do feel like talking, and others where I don't want to be around anyone. On the days I wish to be left alone--you will know, don't worry. (I probably won't return your phone call right away.) Whatever you do, just be as sensitive as possible. Once you get past the, "I'm so sorry for your loss", you could say, "I would love to hear about your son and how it happened if you want to tell me."

The One Brave Soul

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

The week of Joshua's death was busy. Most of the days were filled with boring activities that had to be done such as picking out Joshua's plot and casket. However, there was one thing I looked forward to during these days: checking the mailbox. I remember checking the mail with excitement like I never had before (or at least not in the last 20 years), but like I was 10 again with no internet or cell phone, waiting for birthday cards to arrive from grandparents.

Sympathy cards came in by the handful. I anticipated them. I opened each one carefully, read what was written, and then displayed them on my counter as if they were trophies. This went on non-stop every day for about a week following Joshua's death. I loved every single sympathy card I received, with or without money. Each one meant a great deal to me.

Also during this time, we had visitors constantly at our doorstep; some with flowers, some with food, and some that just wanted to sit on our couch to fulfill their duty of stopping by to check on us. As if this wasn't enough, our phone was ringing off the hook as well, mostly with people trying to arrange things for the service.

A few days following the funeral, I asked Salesi if he thought we were done getting cards in the mail, and if there was any chance we would maybe get just one more. He said, "Yeah, I think just one more." Sure enough, there was one more card in the mailbox the next day. And then...that was it. The last of them.

Not only did sympathy cards stop coming in, but home visits stopped as well. Phone calls? Hardly any. Not sure if there's any coincidence in the timing of all of this, but this is also when Salesi went back to work, and then, the entire world seemed to suddenly crash down. There it came--that sneaky little thing called Grief.

This period of time was probably the most crucial. Who was going to call me? Who would continue checking up on me? Would anyone bring me a meal, now that I really didn't feel like cooking? Was there anybody out there who was willing to stick it out with me through the long haul?

Looking back, I now realize that not many raised their hands to volunteer for such a job. Why? Grief can be yucky. Grief can be ugly. Feelings can get hurt all over the place, and not many are willing to put up with all that. There was 1 brave soul out there, though.

I remember shortly after the funeral, she called to ask me how I was doing. I told her that I was doing okay, but knew that things would more than likely be getting worse. She then called back a week or so later to ask me again how I was doing. I really appreciated this phone call, because by this time, things were just then starting to hit me.

She continued to call me every week just to listen, but not to judge. She understood that I would grieve on my own time, and in my own way. To this day, she continues checking up on me, when most everyone else has gotten back to their busy lives, and can I blame them? No. That's life--it gets busy for all of us.

Much later, I found out that shortly after Joshua died, this friend really wasn't sure what to do, and what to say. So, she decided to pray and follow the spirit. Well, I guess you can't go wrong with that decision. She was in tune with the spirit from the get-go and understood that my grief wasn't something that could be fixed over night, or in a couple of weeks time. Even when I didn't feel like talking, she was there, willing and waiting to listen.

Misconception of the ungrieving world: "She doesn't seem to like to talk about her loss, so I won't ask her about it." I've appreciated those who have continued to check up on me, even if I didn't feel like talking at one time or another. It seems like many people have assumed that I've been okay because they think I've made it past the hardest part yet, and that it should only get easier and easier. The "hardest part" is different for each individual, and for me, it just happened to be after everyone stopped visiting and calling, and then I really felt alone. If you're willing to stick it out, don't give up on your grieving friend--you will be the one they will come to when they feel like they can't go to anyone else, and that's what makes all the difference.

Joshua Are You Out There

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

You know that kid at camp who was always afraid to go to the bathroom by them self? And that other kid who had to stack pillows up all around their bed to form a protective barrier while they slept? Well, that was me. Okay, it still is me.

Since I have already committed to being honest in this blog, I will admit to something a little embarrassing: I'm afraid of ghosts. Big ones, little ones, mean ones, and even nice ones.

Why do I tell you this? Because in the early stages of my grief, I would find myself sitting on my couch calling out to Joshua. Why in the world would I do this when I just told you I'm afraid of spirits, both good and bad? Well I guess you could say I was so deep in my despair, that I thought if I was able to communicate with Joshua, it would make me feel so much better.

When you lose something so dear to you, as your own son is, you seem to try anything to make the pain go away. If I knew that he was okay in his new world, I would be able to feel a sense of peace. So I would call out, "Joshua, are you there?" I would wait a few seconds for a response, then call out again, "Are you out there Joshua?"

Now I said that I wanted to be honest in this blog, but I didn't say I was going to share everything with you. I will tell you, though, that there was one time imparticular when I called out and asked if he was there, and the response was actually somewhat comical. Let's just say it gave me a small glimpse into the world where he now is and let me know just how he is doing over there.

I've also been driving down the street and have had thoughts come to me whether or not Joshua approves of what I'm doing here on Earth. I sometimes expect to look in my rear view mirror and see him in the back seat shouting, "Hey Mom! Surprise! Isn't it cool how I can fly into people's cars!"

Are You Jealous

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

Are you jealous? No, not am I jealous, but are you jealous? Seriously, why would you be jealous of me? This is going to be a stupid topic, but I have to throw it out there: Does it make you jealous to not be a part of this Crappy Club that I'm in? The only reason I bring it up is because the other night I finally got Salesi to take a look at my blog, and one of the first things he read were the words, "The Club" on the right side. He was upset, and wanted to know what it was and why I would put it. I explained to him that it's just a silly way of saying that all those other moms have also lost children, therefore, we all have that in common-- as if we are in a club together.

He still didn't like me using those words, and reminded me of a group of girls who hang out every week but yet never invite me to join in. Unknown to them, it has been hurting my feelings this entire time of more than 2 years. Do I need to forgive them and move on? Yes. Hey, if anything I'm very grateful to them for not inviting me, because it has really opened my eyes and helped me to remember to include everyone. So thanks, girls!

Anyhow, I ended up taking Salesi's advice to change the title from "The Club" to "Other Mommies with Angels". I wouldn't want any of you to be jealous of me and my new club, just like I've been jealous of those other girls and their club. However, now you're probably going to be jealous that I have an angel in heaven. But let's face it, any which way you look at it, it still really is the Crappy Club.

Misconception of the ungrieving world: "Kaci has a son with a free ticket to the Celestial Kingdom." That might be true, but the cost of my ticket sure isn't cheap. Shortly after the funeral, someone actually said they were jealous of us because Joshua is automatically saved in the Celestial Kingdom, and even wished this for their daughter. WHAT? Are you saying you wish your daughter was dead!? The real question is: Are you saying you want to go through all of the pain and suffering we now face on a daily basis? Yeah... didn't think so.

I'm Tired

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

I've decided that if I'm really going to have this blog, I need to be completely honest. No more holding back my true feelings. I can't care what anyone else thinks of me. It hasn't happened to them, so how do they know what I'm supposed to be feeling? Besides, no one really reads my blog anyway...

so here goes...

I'm tired of people not being sensitive to my feelings. I'm tired of obnoxious pregnant women sitting next to me rubbing their big belly while chatting about when their water is going to break and what they are going to name their baby. I'm tired of people constantly teaming me up with either pregnant women or new moms for church callings and visiting teaching. I'm tired of people inviting me over to their house where they have also invited other women who just happened to give birth the same month as me... and their babies are there with them, as if they needed proof.

I'm especially tired of the people who continually ask me how I'm doing, and really don't care for the honest answer. I'm also tired of the people that pee their pants if I tell them I'm actually not doing so great because my son died a few months ago... as if they forgot this small detail. And then there's the people who think they've helped me so much during this difficult time because they've told me things like, "Your son was just too pure for this Earth". Sorry folks, but cliches don't help.

Oh yeah, and then the much older and wiser (and even the younger and hipper) people who have given me advice on the way I should have done the funeral to how I should now be grieving. HA! Why should I listen to you? You people have never even lost a child!

I think, though, what I'm really tired of, is feeling like this. Feeling like the huge ordeal we experienced in the hospital for 3 weeks was all in vain. The countless hours of stress, anxiety, headaches, confusion, and being mislead that entire time... why? Why did I have to watch him suffer? Why did I have to watch him be poked countless times, even to the point of needing blood transfusions? Why did I have to escort him to so many surgeries and x-rays, without his life support machine plugged in, watching with anxiety the RT's every move, wondering if he was going to die right then and there because the RT forgot to pump air for 1 second? Why did I have to watch him become more swollen every day, having to have catheters put in, because he couldn't even pee by himself? Why did I have to watch nurse after nurse stick tubes down his nose and throat, only for him to gag with complete agony while thrusting his entire body trying to spit the tubes out? Why did I have to watch my perfect little baby turn into someone that didn't even look like him?

As you can see, I'm tired of a lot of things. This must be why it's hard to think straight most of the time. I'm dealing with my loss as best as I know how. Writing seems to be good therapy for me. If any of you have a problem with things I've said, I would almost bet that you've never lost a child. I might be wrong, but then again, this is my grief, and nobody else's.

I think I Can See A Light

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

Our stake president asked me how I was doing last week. I told him I think I might be "leveling out". It definitely was getting worse for a time, and I'm mad at myself for being fooled for even a second, that, "I can do this, it's a piece of cake!" Grief is oh so sneaky... you must watch out.

Seeing the light at the end of the tunnel doesn't come effortless. I believe the light is placed at the end of the tunnel for just that reason-- you won't find it until you reach the end. The end of the tunnel for me is not found in this life. Sorry, but I'm a realist, remember? I think that some challenges can be resolved and are meant to be resolved here in mortality. However, being "okay" with your child dying, I believe, will have to wait until the next life.

There are some days, though, when it seems as if I can see a light. Does this mean that I'm almost done with my earthly journey? Probably not. I think what it really means is that God is showing me one of his tender mercies by letting me know that things really will be alright.

Misconception of the ungrieving world: "Kaci has a strong testimony of the Plan of Happiness so she will be able to have an eternal perspective of this loss." Having a testimony of God's plan doesn't make losing my son any less sucky for me. Some days can be especially hard where you can't even think straight, because grief has engulfed your entire physical and mental state.

Comparisons

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

We are told that we should not compare ourselves to others, right? This is so hard to do (or not do), because it's only natural that we would look at someone else and wonder if they are doing something better than us. We all know deep down inside that it's wrong and it only digs a hole for us that we then have to try to climb our way out of. I've realized this more and more as I go through this bereavement period of my life. I've said it before, and will continue to say it: "Everyone grieves differently."

I must remember that I can not compare myself to any other griever... not even my husband. Not comparing myself to my husband has been difficult. During the tough times when I feel the most sad, I turn to him and ask, "Why aren't you sad!? Why aren't you crying!? Don't you care that your son died!?" I must admit that I was very relieved the other night when he started crying after seeing me smell Joshua's little bear before coming into bed. I wanted to cry with him, but at the same time I wanted to shout for joy and say, "Ha! You are finally crying!" I've learned, however, that it is not my responsibility to make sure he cries or doesn't cry. Besides that, we all know how different males and females are, so why wouldn't they be different at grieving?

As I met other "club moms" for lunch last week, I listened to some of their stories. Some of them told me that after their son died, they didn't go to church for over a month, and even after that, they didn't attend Relief Society meetings for many more months. I started thinking, "Should I not be going to church? Should I not be going to Relief Society? Should I ask to be released from my callings?

You're probably wondering why I would be asking such silly questions. Well, it's because part of grieving consists of trying to figure out if I am doing it the right way or not. The truth (for the most part), will always stay the same: There is no right way!

Misconception of the ungrieving world: "My friend acted a certain way when her loved one died, so I'm sure that all people act the same way when they have a loss." Being able to cope with a tough situation varies depending on the following: age; maturity; type of loss; anticipatory time; relationship to the loss; personality; gender; coping abilities; past losses and experiences; physical, spiritual and mental health; lifestyle and expectations; intelligence and education; beliefs and values; family makeup, rules and expectations. (See also "Jesus Wept")

A Bag Of Doritos And A Large Coke

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

Sometimes the empty feeling just never goes away it seems. It doesn't matter what I do. I've tried many things, but the most popular thing right now seems to be food. I've never considered my self a junk-food-lover. I grew up in a house with a mom who was a pioneer in the health food movement. She would never be caught dead buying white bread, potato chips, cool-aid, oreos, or sugar cereal. I remember grocery shopping and begging her to just buy one package of cool-aid! "It's only 10 cents!" I would say. I think she responded with, "I don't care if it is free! It's pure sugar!"

Lately, though, it seems as if there's nothing that a coke can't fix. It just tastes so good sometimes. I can't even believe I'm saying that, but since I don't drink alcohol, (oh, and let's be very grateful I don't) I guess it's what "takes the edge off" for me. I used to never drink soda. I almost thought it was evil in a way... just because it was so unhealthy to me. Even my mom used to scare us by saying, "If you leave a tooth in a cup of coca-cola, it will dissolve overnight!"

Now I'm having a hard time losing that extra baby weight I put on when I was pregnant, and eating poorly sure isn't helping. Well, at least eating poorly for me only consists of a soda and ice cream sundays.

Misconception of the ungrieving world: "She looks fine so she must be fine!" Everyone deals with their grief differently. Just because someone looks okay on the outside does not mean they are okay on the inside. Some have a complete loss of appetite and others want to eat constantly trying to fill the empty feeling inside. Someone on the phone recently said to me, "How have you been doing because you sound like you're doing good." Being able to have somewhat of a normal phone conversation isn't a good qualification of how someone is really dealing with their grief. Grief affects you not just emotionally, but also physically, socially, spiritually, and intellectually.

What I Believe

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi
Many of you know that I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We are also known as the Mormons. We have no problem being called "Mormons", as long as you understand that it is only a nickname due to the fact that we believe in the Book of Mormon, as well as the Bible.

I've been a member of the LDS Church my entire life, and the topic of "life after death" is the theme of many lessons and conversations in our religion. Our doctrine states "Life on earth is of limited duration. There comes a time for all of us when the spirit and the body are separated in death. But because of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ, we will all be resurrected, regardless of whether we have accomplished good or evil in this life. Immortality is the gift to every mortal child of our Father in Heaven. Death must be viewed as a portal to a new and better life. Through the glorious resurrection, body and spirit will be reunited. We will have a perfect, immortal body of flesh and bones that will never be subjected to pain or death. But the glory we attain to in the next life will depend on our performance in this life. Only through the gift of the Atonement and our obedience to the gospel can we return and live with God once again." (L. Tom Perry)

I believe this doctrine with all of my heart. I have prayed to know if the church and what it teaches is of God, and I received a witness that it is. Knowing that we will all be resurrected one day, and that I will see my son again is a wonderful thought. Knowing that I have an opportunity to live with God again is a marvelous thing. It truly is. However, this does not take away the pain and suffering that I am experiencing right now dealing with my loss.

As I have suffered many nights, weeping, sometimes uncontrollably, I have felt alone. Very alone. It didn't seem like there was one soul to comfort me, or anyone who could stop my anguish. I have now wondered why I would feel so alone in my most sorrowful moments, why not even God would send His spirit to comfort me. I now know the answer: I have to experience this for myself.

As harsh as this reality is, if I believe that I can live with God and Christ again, I must be worthy to be in their presence. I must pass through each test I'm given on this Earth, even if that test is to have my baby taken from me. God can't take away all the pain and despair...if He did, it wouldn't be a test.

Even in the darkest moments when I feel truly alone, like God has abandoned me, He really hasn't. He is there waiting for me to call upon Him. Calling upon God during these times are the absolute hardest. You would think getting on your knees isn't that difficult to do, but to the griever, oh it is! I've always believed that being worthy to live in His presence requires qualification to receive such glory. Who are we to say we've suffered enough, when even Christ, Jesus, suffered all. Even Christ called out, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" I believe then, it's necessary for us to experience just a drop of what He had to go through in order for us to be fit for His kingdom.

Misconception of the ungrieving world: "Mormons don't need to feel sad because they have the Restored Gospel of Jesus Christ and the Plan of Happiness". Even though we believe in the All-mighty God, and that we will be able to live with our families in the eternities... IT STILL HURTS! Having this knowledge doesn't take away the pain, or at least not for a long while! So many people think we shouldn't be sad that we've lost our child due to our religious beliefs, but this isn't true. Losing a child is one of the hardest things for anyone to deal with, no matter what religion you participate it!

The Healing Process

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

As I learn more and more on the complex subject of grief, I start to think about my own healing, and if it's taking place, or when it will take place. Many things have happened since Joshua's death to keep my broken heart from mending. I blame no one for this. We must always remember that grief is a learning process.

For example, I just learned today that "jealousy" isn't really the right word to describe my feelings. I'm in a grieving period, therefore, it's not "jealousy" that I feel, but a "longing, and yearning" to have what so many other people experience on a daily basis: raising healthy babies. I wanted to make that clear, because as I tell a select few about my true feelings, I know it sounds awful that I would have such ugly thoughts, described usually as "jealousy". I'm learning now to identify when that emotion comes so that I can accept those feelings and try to move on with some type of normality. Example: If I see a little baby in the grocery store, I am not going to run out the door, but I will look at him and think, "That baby might be the same age as Joshua", then take a deep breath and get on with my shopping. This sounds oh so stupid and foolish to the "ungrieving", but to the grievers, you all know too well what I'm talking about.

I still have to be very cautious as to which activities and events I participate in. The other day, I was invited to a friend's house, and suspected that babies might be there. Sure enough, there were 2 little babies, probably the same exact age as Joshua. I didn't like the feelings I felt, and honestly, I wanted to leave. The pain was a little overwhelming, and was even affecting my social skills. However, I just knew it would be way too hard for me to succesfully sneak out. Therefore, I was forced to stay the entire time, fighting myself to look and sound normal, as if nothing was bothersome to me.

When I got home, I told Salesi about my situation and said, "I don't want to be in that type of setting again for a long time, or my very broken heart won't ever heal." As for now, I will pick and choose which events I wish to attend. It will be a very personal and private decision, with guidance from prayer and the Holy Ghost. So if you don't happen to see me somewhere, it might or might not be because of my grief!

I know I must come to a point of healing where I can function totally normal in most settings. I will never completely get over my loss. It just won't happen in this life, but to finally feel the healing happening will be a great day. Until then, I will rely on the Savior and know that He knows and understands what I'm going through.

Misconception of the ungrieving world: "If she's okay with it one day, she must be okay with it from now on". Just because somebody who has experienced a major loss seems okay with something one day, doesn't mean they will be okay with it from then on. A family of 5, including their little baby, brought us food right after Joshua died. This didn't bother me so much, even though deep down inside I thought it should. Then again, grief is very complex and comes and goes like waves of the sea.

My Car

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

People always tell me how strong I am. I hear it all the time. Even a sister in our ward mentioned it in her testimony last month...at the pulpit. Yes, this did make me just a little uncomfortable. I don't want people to think that about me...more so, I don't want people to think that I think that about me. I understand why they are saying it, but it's hardly true, at least to me, anyway.

To me, I'm just a normal person living my life...and then BOOM, something bad happens. However, bad things happen to people all the time. Yes, you could say that what happened to me is a little bit bigger than the average "bad thing", but I still don't consider my self "so strong".

While we were in the hospital for 3 weeks, everyone would call us or stop by and say, "You two are so strong, I don't know how you do it!" At the funeral, people would say, "You both are so strong, I don't know how you do it!" Well, let me tell you my secret: my car.

My car has become my safe place. My sanctuary. I get inside my car, put my sunglasses on, cover my mouth with one hand (this is in case someone sees me and wonders why my mouth is wide open), and let it all out. I now know what it means to "wail", and I don't say that boastfully.

A perfect example of this happened the other day as I went to Goodyear to help my sister. It was late morning. The same time I used to drive down that exact same freeway every day to be with Joshua in the PICU. As soon as I started approaching the exit for the hospital, it hit me...Joshua's not there. I was overcome with emotions of sadness and despair. However, it was okay...I was safe inside my car! Oh how I love my car! I don't even drive a nice car, but it doesn't matter... That morning, I was able to let it all out, and hold nothing back.

I started wishing he was still in that hospital. Yes, even hooked up to all those ugly machines and being poked only a hundred times each day. I wanted him to be there still, because if he was, then I could at least go and see him, hold his hand, and maybe dream of the one day we would be able to take him home again and finally get back to our "normal life".

After I got a little further down the freeway, my crying naturally slowed down, and I was able to think about what just happened. "He's not in that hospital. It's over. He's gone, and I won't ever be able to find him in that hospital ever again," I told myself.

It's said that tears shed during grieving are different than regular tears. I believe they are more cleansing, and to some people (especially women), are almost an essential part of the grieving process.

If being "strong" means not crying in front of people, then so be it. As for me, I prefer my car anyway.

Misconception of the ungrieving world: "Not crying means you are super strong." If you don't ever see the griever cry, this doesn't mean they aren't suffering or struggling. Most people wish to grieve extremely private...crawling in their bed under their covers, or in their closest with their door shut. It's not a really bad thing to say, "you are so strong", but please don't think this because you haven't seen them sad. Almost every day I put on a "face" to almost every person I'm around. They would never know the heartache and sick feeling I have unless I told them. And to be honest, I don't care to tell 99% of them.

My Story

By Kaci Goodrich Uipi

Over and over in my mind I play out the entire story. I start at the beginning. I finish at the end. It starts with giving birth, and ends with me holding a little baby boy that has changed so much from the way I would like to remember him.

For those of you who don't know my story, I will share it with you...

I found out I was pregnant in the beginning of last year. Just like anybody else, I was excited and overwhelmed all at the same time. With the exception of having morning sickness for over half of my pregnancy, everything else was completely normal. I went into labor 5 days early, making the birth date 10-10-10! I chose to have my baby fully natural and had a wonderful labor and delivery experience.

The only setback to our beautiful story thus far, is that our Little Joshua swallowed meconium at birth. Because of this, he was taken to the nursery where he could be closely monitored. While there, he experienced apnea that was longer than usual for a newborn. Therefore, he was then taken to the NICU. We heard different things in the NICU, but the doctor ended up diagnosing him with having "Wet Lung", and released him after a few days.

Finally then, we got to bring our perfect little baby home, anxious and ready to start our new life. We had been home only about 6 short days, when I noticed Baby Joshua felt extremely hot early one morning as I got ready to feed him. Knowing that a fever was very dangerous for a newborn, immediately I called our doctor's office. They told us to take him to the ER as soon as possible. Stressed, but calm that everything would be okay, we took him straight back to St. Joe's, where we had just been the week prior. I was sure they would tell us that we were over-reacting, give him some baby Tylenol, and let us be on our way... God had other plans.

From then on, Joshua only got sicker and sicker. After spending 2 nights in the Pediatric Ward, we felt like our baby was not receiving the care he needed. At this point, we just knew that he had something serious...we could feel it deep down inside. We talked about transferring to Phoenix Children's Hospital, but the doctor assured us that it really wouldn't matter, since all of the specialists were the same. She then asked if we would like to move up to the PICU. We both happily agreed.

Within a few short hours of being transferred to the PICU, our little baby was put on a ventilator, also known as "life support". All that the doctors knew was that he had some type of pneumonia... but which kind, and how he got it, was beyond their imagination.

They started running test after test: daily x-rays, CT scans, MRIs, bronchoscopies, ultrasounds, and eventually even a biopsy of his lung, when nothing else seemed to give answers as to why he was only getting worse. One day the doctor even told us he believed our baby had cancer.

Finally, they thought they found it...the real cause to his severe pneumonia. They discovered candida yeast growing in his lungs, and began treatment immediately. At this time, we had already been there for 2 weeks, and doctors told us it would be at least 3 to 4 additional weeks before we could go home. We were willing to wait.

However, the anticipated recovery never came. It seemed as if the medicine wasn't working. This threw doctors for yet another loop. "Maybe there is something wrong with his immune system", doctors started telling us. They called in another specialist who did 4 more tests. One of which, was for an incredibly rare genetic disorder called Chronic Granulomatous Disease.

Four days later, the doctor told us the test had indeed come back positive for CGD. This was the underlining cause as to why he was not able to fight the yeast infection that had attacked his lungs. How or when he aspirated yeast? We will never know.

By this time, Joshua had become so critically ill that doctors told us his chance of survival was only around 5%. Doctors had upped the dosage of every possible medicine, and even added another breathing machine for more support. His entire body was shutting down, and we knew that at any moment his heart could stop. We had already sat down with doctors to discuss what we would do in case this actually happened.

The next morning, Salesi called to tell me that the nurse wanted both of us at the hospital ASAP. I paced my house back and forth, knowing deep down inside what lay ahead. "This is it, the time has come", I thought. It's very hard to express all of the emotions I then felt rush through my body. Even though I was scared, there seemed to be a sacred feeling surround me. I'm sure there were angels with me, just like there were angels with Joshua ready to escort him to his new home.

I had already made my mind up before we got to the hospital that it was time to let him go. I knew he had suffered enough, and wasn't going to get better. Salesi, on the other hand, had a much harder time with this decision and reality.

We chose to take turns holding him in the rocking chair, still with all of the equipment hooked up and turned on. Our sweet little boy had changed immensely from the little baby we brought into the hospital 3 weeks earlier. His entire body was puffy and very stiff, retaining all liquid. Even the back of his head was swelling rapidly. After a few hours of rocking and singing to our precious son I then took my turn of holding him one last time, as the nurses unplugged all of the equipment that was keeping him alive. He died just a few minutes later.

It's still very hard for me to look at the pictures we took of Joshua's last day on this Earth. I don't wish to remember my son like that. However, looking at those pictures sometimes helps me to understand just what God was thinking when he gave me this trial: I'm much braver than I thought I was. Never would I have ever imagined that I could hold my little baby in my arms and watch him die, but on that day, I was able to do just that.

Misconception of the ungrieving world: "Everyone wants to talk about their story." This isn't always true. Some people like to talk a lot about details in the beginning, shortly after their loved one has died. This is probably because they are still in a state of numbness. Even though it has now been more than 4 months since Joshua passed, I still have days when talking about his story or even his diagnosis is difficult. I will always try to fight back tears with anyone, other than my husband, who talks to me about Joshua. It also depends on the type of loss and cause of death. Some people might never wish to think about how it happened ever again, but only mention it by using the word, "accident". My best advice is to always be extremely sensitive to anyone who has ever lost a child. Really, this means for the rest of time, since grief is something that is always there, and will come and go like waves of the sea.