Sunshine in My Soul

Today I heard a celebrity blame The Church for teen suicide in Utah.

I was really upset by that and, it took a while, but I think I figured out why it bothers me so much.

First of all, I have a history of clinical depression, anxiety and suicidal intent.

Secondly, I buried my baby.

The Church saved me.

The only thing that kept me from spiraling into an endless depression is the hope that I will be with Hannah forever.  I get her back.  And that fact (yes, I call it fact) has kept me alive.  Bear in mind, that when I say 'alive' that I don't mean just breathing.  I mean actively living with purpose and joy.

Today, I felt Hannah's light shining all around me.  Her light guided me to listen to some old conference talks and Tabernacle Choir music to help me process through my upset.  Her light comforted me and shined even brighter when President Nelson declared that we don't have to stand alone because the Lord stands with us.

Tonight, I was singing "There Is Sunshine in My Soul Today" to my toddler while getting her ready for bed.  I realized that Hannah's light was still with me and so is my Savior's light.  Things can upset me, but if I look for that light, I will always find sunshine in my soul.

Easter

My family is following the Come, Follow Me program of Easter readings.  Every night this week, we read about the last week of the Savior's life.  His atonement, death and resurrection are taking on new meaning for me.

I'm finally starting to understand Easter.

Because of Hannah.

Three thoughts-

1-The Lord is the only one who understands exactly how I feel.  There are people who have been through similar experiences who get the idea of what I'm going through.  But the Savior completely understands because He went through it too.

2-The Lord died and was resurrected to conquer death.  Death doesn't win.  Not ever.  Because the Savior lives, Hannah lives.  I will live.  Hannah and I will both be resurrected.  We will live forever.

3-The Lord atoned for my sins.  Hannah is already perfect.  She skipped ahead and left me in the dust.  I have so much work to do before I will get anywhere near perfect.  I have spent the last few months pushing myself to work harder and faster (maybe even more than I can or should) out of fear that I won't be good enough to be with my daughter again.  It will never be enough.  I need the Savior to make up the difference.

The sum total is that the Savior is my greatest comfort and joy at this time.  I want Him to always be my comfort and joy.  I want to join my light to His.

The Worst Thing

I've heard people say that losing a child is the worst thing that can happen to you.  It's certainly the worst thing that's ever happened to me.  But I've never had cancer.  I've never had to fight in a war.  I've never had to search for the truth of the gospel.

The list is endless.  There are seven billion worst things for seven billion people in the world right now.  There were worst things for every single other person who ever lived.  There will be new worst things for the people who haven't been born yet.  And those are just the worst things.  There are an infinite number of terrible things in every person's life.

The Savior suffered every single one of them.  Every.  Single.  One.

I only know the terrible things in my own life.  But He knows all of those, too.  He knows exactly how it feels to be Hannah's mama, exactly how much I love my baby and exactly how much it hurts to lose her.  But somehow, He still shines.

Hannah only had 13 days in this world.  That was probably her worst thing.  But somehow, she still shines.

I lost my child.  But somehow, I can still shine.

The worst thing in my life doesn't have to be the only thing.  I can't get rid of it, but I can fill up my life with good things.  I can have joy in my life.  I can be grateful for everything I still have and will get later.  I can move forward with purpose knowing that I will see Hannah again.  And that's the best thing.

Time Glides

I've hated time for most of life.  Ten-year old me could barely handle fifth grade math because of time.  It's the concept that bothers me.  It's always seemed to me that there was something wrong about time, as if it doesn't work right.

Abraham 5:13

But of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it; for in the time that thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die.  Now I, Abraham, saw that it was after the Lord's time, which was after the time of Kolob; for as yet the Gods had not appointed unto Adam his reckoning.

I'm finally figuring it out.  There's nothing wrong with time.  Time is perfect for what it is.  It's how I interact with the Lord throughout my mortality.  It's how He helps me to progress.

I hate that Hannah can't be here with me through this time.  But she doesn't need time.  I do.  I hate that the Lord didn't give me more time with my baby.  But I rejoice that He gave me any time with her at all.

There's a lot of phrases about the passage of time.  Time flies.  Time marches on.  Time and tides wait for no man.  But the song Love at Home (from The Church of Jesus Christ hymnbook) says it best.  "Time doth softly, sweetly glide When there's love at home."

I can feel the love and light of Heavenly Father, of the Savior and of Hannah across all the time that I have.

Problem Solving

My husband and I are taking the Church's Self Reliance course on Personal Finances.  I pushed for us to take the class now because I needed something to focus on after we lost Hannah.

We're up to the week of the class where we're supposed to stick to our budget.  So, of course, the dishwasher broke.  Because that's how life is and because the Lord wanted to ease me into having to deal with a crisis by giving me a really mini one.

Adam noticed the dishwasher leaking.  I grabbed towels, cleaned up the puddle, called the service people, arranged for someone to look at it the next day, hung up the phone and started crying.  Handling my mini-crisis took all of my resources.

It took hours for me to realize that even though it did take all of my resources, I did handle it.  I didn't handle it super well, but I handled it.

Tonight, we were reading in Alma for family scripture study.

Alma 29: 9

I know that which the Lord hath commanded me, and I glory in it. I do not glory of myself, but I glory in that which the Lord hath commanded me; yea, and this is my glory, that perhaps I may be an instrument in the hands of God to bring some soul to repentance; and this is my joy.

I've been learning in Self Reliance group that I am capable of solving problems. I realized tonight that I am stronger and better than I was before Hannah came along.  More than that, I'm working to progress farther still.  Because of Hannah.

The Lord commanded me to do something that was really hard.  I lost my baby.  But I glory that I could give her a body and a few days on earth.  She used that time to change the world.  She changed me.  She made me a person who handles a crisis.  She made me look to the light.

My Tiara

This won't make sense unless you know that I'm a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Now that you know that...

I'm obsessed with tiaras.  I've been asking Heavenly Father if I can have a tiara when I get to Heaven.  For years.  He's always replied that I need to get over it.  For years.

When we lost Hannah, my whole universe shifted one foot to the left.  Nothing had changed in the grand cosmos, but I had.  I became a different person.  Wanting a tiara in Eternity suddenly seemed stupid.

But I still wanted one.  I had lost my baby and I wanted compensation.  I wanted everything that had ever been denied me.  I wanted to move into a million dollar house on the same block with all of my family.  I wanted to become a famous writer.  And I wanted a tiara.

Mostly, I wanted Hannah back.

My husband and I were sealed in the Mount Timpanogos Temple before either of our daughters were a twinkle in my eye.  Hannah was born into that covenant.  We are a forever family.

I will be with Hannah again.

3 Nephi 13:21 (Matthew 6:21)-

For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.

Hannah is my tiara.

There's a caveat. I have to love the Lord more than I love Hannah.  Being with Hannah again has to be a perk, not the point.  I have to want to be with the Lord again.  I can't do that right now.  But I think I might be able to do it eventually.  My tiara, my sweet Hannah, is so sparkly that she's all I can see right now.  But the farther away that she gets from me, the more clearly I can see that her light is just an extension of the Savior's light.  Loving the Lord means I love Hannah more than I can now.

It hurts to think all of this.  It feels a little bit like losing Hannah again. But Christ's light is bright and warm.  And Hannah is a part of that light.  So that's where I'm heading.

Inspiration

My first pregnancy was really hard on me.  I had acute hyperemesis - code for permanent nausea - and I later developed gestational diabetes.  When I got pregnant for the second time, I was mentally prepared for those things.  I was not prepared, in any way, for what I got.

I did get sick again, but my OB doubled me up on the anti-nausea medicines so I was actually pretty functional.  I was pleased with that, as were my husband and toddler.  We thought we were doing well.

At 20 weeks we went in for our midpoint ultrasound and gender check.  Our baby girl measured at 18 weeks.  Something was wrong.  We saw the specialist.  She couldn’t identify any abnormalities on the ultrasound.  Something was wrong with the baby’s genetics.  We saw another specialist.  At 25 weeks, the baby was measuring at 20 weeks.  Something was wrong with the baby’s genetics and the doctor thought it was going to kill her.

We decided to get an amnio.  The doctor stuck a huge needle into my abdomen and desperately tried to get enough amniotic fluid out to run the genetic tests.  Two days later, we found out that our baby had Down Syndrome.

Three days after that…

Hannah Charlotte Peterson was born on Monday, December 3, 2018 at 4:56 pm.  She was 27 weeks, weighed 430 grams (about 15 ounces), with a length of 10 inches.  If I could have held her, she would have fit in one of my hands.

For 13 days, Hannah was a shining star in the Utah Valley Hospital NICU.  They were constantly amazed, impressed and baffled by her.  At first, no one could believe how well she was doing.  Then things started downhill and no one could figure out why she couldn’t come back.

We still don’t know why Hannah wasn’t growing properly in the womb.  We still don’t know why her body failed.  What we do know is that the doctors and staff fought valiantly to save her out of love and it was out of love that we all had to let her go.

I held my daughter for the first and last time on December 16, 2018.  I kissed her sweet little head and cuddled her tiny body the best that I could.  It wasn’t enough.  It will never be enough.  But she needed to go home.

Hannah’s little life changed me.  Hannah’s little star still shines brightly.