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When Life Blooms

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Entwined: Mama and Emme                                     Art by Kathy Bauer

A week ago, anticipating today, I sat in my living room having a moment. I ran through every detail to ensure I still remembered. I ran my fingers up and down Emme’s c-section scar ensuring it was real. Sometimes it doesn’t feel real. Sometimes it feels like she’s going to run in and say something silly, as any 3 year old would. I thought about what she’d want her birthday theme to be. I thought about how I would, as always, plan for a small party but end up with a carnival.

Loss. It felt so heavy.

And then Life knocked at my door. As I cried in silence unable to open her box to inhale her smell again, to touch the hair the NICU nurses so gently packed for me, to fold and re-fold the baby clothes she wore for such a short period of time, I heard Nate’s butterfly begin to bat her wings, practicing as she broke through her chrysalis and embraced her new body. Charlie (our almost 2 year old turtle) began to chirp. I could hear the birds outside. In my sorrow, I heard life. There are no words to describe what I felt, but in that moment it was as if I was being told that life was blooming all around me, everywhere, all I had to do was silence my heart and listen.

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The chrysalis

The anticipation of Easter has been hard the last couple years. I always felt so betrayed by it. Here comes spring and everything is blooming and there I am, mourning. I will never stop mourning; feeling extremely sad that I wasn’t able to live my life the way I would have liked with Emme. But this year I see life. I see it breaking through. The heaviness surrounds me but it’s not hopeless. No, it is not hopeless.

Today Nate got to decide the flavor of Emme’s birthday cake, mama and Lei sang, and we all got to send Emme heavenly kisses.

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To the heavens :*

XO

When Your Tire Runs Flat

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A couple days ago I was leaving my my sister’s place when she noticed that my tire was completely flat. My immediate response was, “oh, that tire is kinda funny, it’s always a little flat.” My sister looked at me like I was crazy, so I walked over to look at the tire. She proceeded with directions: I was to go directly to the nearest gas station and get it taken care of. I obliged. I got out of the car, pulled Elea out of her car seat and proceeded to go inside to pay for the air. I thought I was putting air in the tire but the tire wasn’t looking any better. I re-read the instructions and kept trying. After no success I finally reached inside to grab my phone to call Eric, only to realize I had no phone. So, I looked around and approached the kindest looking person, an older gentleman who I later realized was living out of his car. He walked over and said he would be more than happy to help me. The problem was simple: I never pushed the ON button. He filled the tire and then taught me how to do it. He expressed concern over my safety with such a flat tire and then went on to grab his own meter to show me what I should expect my tire to read every time (the one provided by the gas station was broken).

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Joy                                                    

Although it felt like it took me 5 minutes to do all this, I was actually at the gas station for almost an hour. As I drove home, I processed the risk of the flat tire and although I knew the car was driving funny, I was completely unaware. And even when my sister was trying to point it out to me, I wasn’t really concerned until I saw how the tire looked post air. My tire pressure light had been on and I still didn’t take the time to look at it, or at least to make sure it wasn’t bad. It is  a lot like my gasoline habit. I can get down to zero miles but it doesn’t make me nervous. I know, because I read somewhere (please don’t trust this), that when your car says 0 miles it really can go an additional 20 miles before it leaves you stranded. I have never been stranded but have come pretty close to getting a panic attack, when lost, running low on gas, phone is dead, and am in a completely unknown place (happened to me in December). Yet, I do it again and again.

So, as I processed this issue and my overwhelming amount of trust in my car, I saw a recurring theme. I am capable of trusting wholeheartedly. No problem. But most recently I have found myself teetering between believing whole heartedly in something I know can be done and surrendering hope. Like a tire needing air, I was infused multiple times this past week with unbelievable confirmation that hope is not lost. You see Faith is amazing, but no one said it would be easy. In the midst of the storm, you have to find peace and hold on to it. And while there, you’ll see the beauty of believing. Be the tire that gets infused with hope and faith, because our Father is your rim.  So even if you are left without air (or gas), you will keep going even if you wobble through, the rim will keep you upright until you can get infused once again.

XO

P.S. try not to go without air in your tires and/or gas. Trusting in your car is not nearly as good as trusting in God. Whereas eventually I will get stranded, God will never let me down.

 

The Unexpected Encounter

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Nathan’s preschool teacher has been sick the entire week and thus we’ve had substitutes every day. I walked into his classroom today hoping she was back, but instead the air was knocked out of me. My hands began to shake the way they do when I have too much caffeine. I squeezed Elea closer to my chest and hoped no one could see the sweat that was starting to form as my body burned. In a blink of an eye, it was Spring 2014. My knees shook and it took all the strength I could muster up to keep me from falling over.

Nathan’s substitute for the day was his old teacher, the teacher that held my hand through emails and gentle questions. She encouraged me at a hopeless time. When Emme passed, the last thing I wanted to do was take Nathan to all his classes. I felt ashamed. I felt as though I had failed my daughter. My body had failed to be a safe home for her. I had failed at giving her life. And although I know this is all wrong and completely false, these feelings overpowered me for a long time. I felt worthless.

His teacher emailed me and every time I had the courage to come to class, she always greeted me and Nathan with love. I remember trying to pick up where I left off because Nathan needed his mother, but every time I walked into his school, all I could think about were the things everyone else was thinking. Feeling sorry for me and avoiding me. I now understand that they avoided me because there was nothing good enough to say to a grieving mother whose eyes looked like they were on a short pause from crying. Those days were shattering for me. But I never forgot her because every time I walked in there, it was like she knew and she held my hand through the rest of the school year.

This morning, our eyes met and I knew she remembered. We talked about Nathan but neither one of us had the courage to go back. I wanted nothing more than to give her a big hug and let her know how vital she was to my survival, but I couldn’t. My voice immediately cracked, my eyes filled and my body weakened. I couldn’t say thank you.

I’m not beating myself up about it. Like I have said before, grief is like the ocean waves, you never know which wave will knock you down, but you must get up, over and over again. I truly hope she knows what a beautiful person she is and how her kindness still inspires me. And next time, I hope I can get a step closer to telling her.

xoxo

 

A Word of Encouragement

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Often times I get so caught up with the things I’m asking God for, that I completely forget about the things he so diligently provides me with. The last couple weeks have been a bit difficult for my family as we slowly enter grounds we have never had to before. Last week I dropped Nate off at school, jumped in the car and let it all out. I cried the way Nate and Lei cry when they want one more piece of chocolate and I won’t budge (serious crying here 🙂 ). Thankfully Eric was in the car and he was able to bring me back by reminding me of God’s goodness. And this is the thing, His goodness is so good, it is overwhelming. He is here to overwhelm the things that overwhelm us.

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In the midst of difficult moments, He is always there although it may seem as though he is absent. The more I calm my mind and let go, the more I seem to see his hand over my life. Difficult moments will always be part of our life simply because we live on this earth, but they don’t have to be hopeless. God delivers us hope. He has given us the weapons with which to battle against anything. Crying is welcomed. He listens and he loves us for who we are. He understands.

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Thankfulness is key. Do what you can for others because you can. You have the power to change the atmosphere of any circumstance. Be bold. Go about your day knowing that he will deliver, because he will. Perhaps not in the way that you expect it, but he will never let you down.

Happy hump day!

To be Brave 

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Yosemite Family Hike 2015

Bravery is said to be the act of being ready to endure danger or pain; showing courage. But it is so much more than that. We can all take pain or endure danger for our loved ones, especially if you have children.

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Nate & friend taking a breather


Life hands us so many things. Some good and some that we would rather hand over and toss in the trash bin. But that’s not the way life works. We must roll with the punches. Play the hand we’ve been dealt. We all end up doing so. And this is where courage takes place. Courage to deal with the worst possible news in the most positive way possible, even when it feel completely unnatural to do so.

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2014


I had a conversation with my mother this morning. We’ve been given some life altering news. We sat there processing together, while our hearts felt every emotion in the book. While I came in with the goal that I was coming in to comfort, I was comforted. My mother, she is the epitome of Bravery. She has fought breast cancer since 2001, and never has she given up, lost hope or wavered in her faith. And let me tell you, there been plenty of times and reasons to waver on this long journey.

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Thanksgiving 2016

It takes courage to say, no, I don’t want to undergo another chemo therapy session. I don’t want to undergo anymore. It takes courage to say yes to another chemo therapy session. Another radiation session.

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It takes courage to support your loved ones’ decision. It takes courage to walk the road with them, hand in hand, every set back, victory and tear. It takes love to hold on to hope, when little has been given. But we are not alone. We’ve never been alone. It’s always been us and our Father, walking in front of us, holding our hand, head high, telling us to keep on, keep on, because the battle is not over.

The power of prayer is remarkable.

The power of love is extraordinary.

The power of kindness is incredible.

     

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Donut love 2016


In the midst of change and an unknown future, pray for our leaders, pray for each other and don’t lose hope.

Xoxo

You are such a douche bag!

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My fingers had pressed the button and before I knew it I was yelling it out for all to hear, “YOU ARE SUCH A DOUCHE BAG!!!” and I would have probably continued had it not been for the little voice coming from the back seat, ” Mommy, that is not very nice”.

Oh man.

So let me give you some back story before you think I was completely in the wrong here. We pulled up to the gas station and like civilized people, we pull up behind the cars that are waiting their turn to fill up with gas. Mind you, we have both kids in the car and we are driving back from church on our way to a friends house for lunch. Along comes Mr. I Don’t Care, against traffic and snuggles right into the number five pump. The pump we were pulling up to. I put up my arms to show him the line behind us and he gives me a hand gesture clearly signifying, I don’t care. My blood boils, the window rolls down, and it is out of my mouth before I can blink.

 

Patience has never been a virtue of mine. It is very difficult for me to hold my tongue when something is clearly wrong or unkind. But I have 100% improved and managed to be wiser with my words and have gotten proficient at counting to 10 and breathing in and out for the sake of my children and my marriage. I would even go as far as saying, you would think patience was one of my strengths now! I can’t even remember the last time I lost my temper since I have been married. Holy moly! Patience is definitely one of Eric’s strengths and he has done a marvelous job of being the example I need to see every day. But on Sunday, I lost it. I was so shocked by my own actions, I was shaking and paid the price for my actions (immediate headache all day). I had to apologize to Nate for showing him something he shouldn’t do. I explained that mommy was out of hand and why I had gotten so upset. I also gave him examples of what mommy could have done to express her anger.

 

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Surrounded by love

 

Then I thought to myself (all day, practically) how I allowed myself to get so crazy. And how thankful I was that the other driver wasn’t a maniac. In a world where so much craziness exists, there is really no reason for me to allow someone else’s actions to affect my day. Kindness (in my experience), whether it is returned or not, will always (eventually) bring out the best in most.

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Elea at school


BE KIND.

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Saturday morning family selfie


We can always be better human beings. Every day I hope to be better than the day before. I hope to teach my children kindness through words and my actions. I want to show them to be kind. To show love. And we all need reminders. So instead of beating myself up for my crazy actions on Sunday, I will choose to see it as a wake up call to remind myself that I can be better and have plenty of room for improvement.

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Overpowering evil with good: Nate & Darth Vader


xo,

Karla

The Frequencies of Love 

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On Monday night I layed in bed, arms open, heart open, with grief running down my cheeks. Eric sat next to me trying to do what partners do best – listen. He listened and listened until there were no tears left to cry out. 


October is 2 days away. It’s always hard for me to celebrate my life when there is such a huge chunk of it missing. But this year instead of struggling through the month, I’ve been suckered into a party. 

Growing up, I remember looking forward to my birthday. It was the best time. My father and mother knew that I LOVED parties. I loved the cake face mashing (which happened every time!). I remember seeing all our friends and family and being bombarded with kisses and hugs. 


But that joy was taken from birthdays. The past two have felt incomplete. Full of joy with my surviving children, but always missing one. 


So while a party is far, far from what I would choose, I think it may be what I need. And like the electric frequencies, our grief for our beautiful baby girl will always be. Sometimes it will be good and sometimes it will be so painful I won’t want to get out of bed or I’ll cry until there are no tears to shed, but I will feel her love. 

So here is hoping that this October, my Emme frequencies burn hard. And I cry a lot; tears for a life lost but also tears of love and thankfulness for the love that will forever frequent my heart. 

Xoxo 

When Your Heart Skips a Beat

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When you love so deeply you share your boba

Yesterday was Nathan’s school orientation. He is officially starting Pre-School on Monday. My day was full of anxiety and I could not figure out what it was. All I knew was that I didn’t want to go to orientation. My eyes teared up about everything and I couldn’t keep myself from crying. But why? I had such a perfect day with the kids. We enjoyed our library filled morning, followed by Farmer’s Market shenanigans. And our ultimate favorite- boba drinking with some dancing. We napped snuggled up together and the kids ate dinner without any massive toddler breakdowns. And as the time approached for me to go- it happened. The big question kept atacking me and I answered it a thousand times. Over and over and each time the answer was different. And sometimes I couldn’t get through the answer.

The question is always the same. My answer- it always wavers.

How many children do you have? how many siblings does your child attending the school have? How many other children attend the school? …and then the hard part. What do I say? Do I say the truth? A version of the truth? People will feel bad. People will be uncomfortable.

And this is just the beginning of the questions and turmoil that goes on in my heart. It is not enough that I lost my daughter and that when most families go back to school with every child they have birthed, I am missing one. So instead of going back to school with three, I go back with two. The hole is left open. The waves come a little quicker. The scab begins to peel. img_1053

It’s always such a struggle with my heart, not because I am scared of the possible reactions but because I remember early on how much I always felt like I betrayed her with every answer. No answer was ever good enough. Every answer left me feeling unfulfilled. But after the meeting yesterday, I decided that no answer will ever be the right answer because what happened was wrong. My little family, we try our best every day to experience joy, after all, Eric and I have been blessed with two amazing children. But our lives will never be the same.

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I will proabably have anxiety about backto school nights for the rest of my life. And I can live with that. Grief is not a step to get through. It is something that a parent without their child will always experience. Sometimes it hurts so bad you can feel it in your bones, and other times it presents itself gently; leaving love and smiles behind. So as I walk in this coming Monday, with my first born’s hand nicely intertwined in mine, I will squeeze harder when tears want to flow down and love this moment for what it is because even though I don’t get to walk Emme into her class and have her run after me in fear that I will leave, I am blessed to do it with Nate and Elea.


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When Nothing Seems to go Right

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The week began with  an overwhelming Monday. I wish it would have been a broken cookie causing all the crying but this time it was Elea falling down some stairs. I was horrified and disappointed that (although I saw it happen and ran to try to catch her), I was unable to. I felt horrible. A bad mother. Yup. I even thought I was a bad mother. I don’t think it hurt that bad, but her look said it all: where were you, mama? I pull myself together and go grocery shopping (only because we won’t have anything to eat if I don’t), only to realize my wallet was left at home.

Exhale.

Inhale.

My face must have said it all (it took everything I had to hold back the tears), because the cashier very gently said it happened to everyone. Maybe. Probably. But it didn’t matter. I was falling apart and it was only 10 in the morning.

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The week continued with regular toddler and baby meltdowns, not enough of me to go around, limited showers, late work nights for papa and a very tired mama. I then told Eric, this CEO was coming close to turning in her two week notice. I was nearing my breaking point. I was contemplating stepping down from this gynormous-whopping-biggest BUT most rewarding job in the world. I sat at the table while the babes napped on Wednesday and I cried because I can’t. I can’t leave this job that is so ‘abusive’ because it is my favorite job. It is not a job, it is the only thing I am honestly passionate about; motherhood. I love a lot of things but I am not passionate about any of them as much as I am about my children and husband.

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On Thursday, Nate very calmly told me that he needed more attention from his mama. He wanted to have my undivided attention without it being shared, even it if was just for a little while. So as I walked to the car with yogurt in my hair, a baby crying to be released from her mamas arms, a little toddler sobbing because his sister squirted his yogurt, managed to lose his Walker’s (AT-ST: Star Wars) weapon, I, again, almost lost it. And as I was walking towards our house, a sweet older lady complimented the kids and proceeded to say “Honey, you having a good day?”, I responded, “it could be better” and she said, “oh, but everyday is a great day honey.” I smiled and walked on. Not until later when the kids were in bed and I snuggled with a blanket and a good book, did I realize the heaviness of her words. The truth.

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I know what it is to have bad days. I know what it is to have your world come to an end and struggle to breathe. So even on my worst days, they are the best. But I am also well aware that I am a human being. Hard days, hard weeks, they will happen. Mommy breakdowns are completely normal. Having moments of throwing in the towel are going to happen.  I get to do what I love every day. I get to start my day singing our good morning song and I get to end it singing their favorite songs.

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The week ended with warmth, love and Nate and I looking through Elea and Emme’s photo albums. Our hearts were full.

 

Xoxo

 

P.s.  This Monday was a great start to the week but the day ended with me almost burning down the house. The pan was ruined ( my favorite go-to) and dinner was a bust. But after we aired out the house, we all had a laugh about it. It could have been worst but I’ll take a burned dinner any Monday of the year 🙂

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The Last Time 

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The last time we came to Europe we were running away. We were running from our reality. We couldn’t cope with life. It was difficult, to say the least, to get up. Physically I wasn’t able to sometimes and thinking of the immediate hour was bearable, as our life had been turned upside down. 

And here we are, two years later, in Switzerland. The emotions that were stirring the days leading to our trip reminded me of the ocean. I cried. My body ached feeling the pain of loss. There was excitement and there was joy, sprinkled with a little emptiness that will never be filled. 

Boarding at LAX

But since we have arrived, the adventures have been over abundant and seamless. They seem to happen with so little effort and my heart is overflowing with joy. Yesterday, I honestly felt pain in my chest from how much I was laughing, while we got poured on, standing on a cliff in what seemed like a forest but was really the mountain region. We drove through thunder, wind and rain for a very important task, snail hunting! Yes, we drove to hunt for snails and ended up with HUGE ones and a small green frog
thatEric chased up a hill and Nathan grabbed to put into his pet cage ( we released it seconds later). 

Nathan and his first frog


And all this happened within a couple hours. I laughed so hard as my wild bird clung on to my body, confused as to why we were being rained on and Mama was bending over backwards in histerical laughter.


Our babies have filled my heart with so much joy that I can’t help but feel extremely thankful for everything that happened and how it happened. It’s like “Inside Out”, Joy was sweeter when Sadness had been there, and as much as Joy tried to avoid Sadness, it was inevitable. Now I’m not saying you have to go through severe pain to truly experience joy but our circumstances definitely have the ability to make life sweeter. 

Our ‘ugly’ joy faces


Nothing about life is supposed to be perfect, or easy, but the way we come back can make or break us. Looking at our journey, I am so incredibly happy that Eric held my hand and pulled me along when I couldn’t go on. I am overjoyed that we got our little bird and that she’s brought nothing but joy. 

Elea after a 12 hour flight


My heart has been made whole and Emme rides along side, looking down and experiencing joy as she watches us move forward. 

Zurbrugg family