why so open?

Often I've had people ask me how I've had time to blog over the last four months...or questions as to why I've chosen to be so open about the mess we have been/are walking through.

For me it has been my way to process. Writing has helped me clear my thoughts-- to work through the confusion between my heart and head.

Other times I felt too tired to pray, and I knew that if I put up a post that many of you would be praying. There were days when I felt like God wasn't answering my prayers and hoped that maybe he would answer the prayers of some of you.

Before Olive was born the only people reading the blog were close friends and family. After learning more people were reading along I remember hesitating to write some things so publicly...and some of those things I chose not to write on the blog, but instead in private e-mails. After a while though, I realized that people who know me well will love me no matter what I write, and if others don't understand...it's okay.

One thing we haven't felt during this journey is lonely. So many of you have been praying, watching, listening, and giving in all different ways...and now grieving with us. We have also met many strangers who have walked down painful roads themselves--who lost a baby, had a premature baby with complications, or who have a child with disabilities.  It seems that as they have read the blog and learned about Olive's journey it has brought up fresh memories for them.

It has even seemed to surface the experience of losing of  loved ones for many of you...parents, siblings, and friends. I know there is a difference between losing a parent from a child, but i think the pain of loss has many similarities.

This last Sunday at church someone came up to me with tears in her eyes and told me that her father died seven years ago. She has craved having him close again in a tangible way, but he has never showed up in her dreams all these years...until last week. She said that grieving the loss of little Olive brought back so much pain in the memories of losing her father and for the first time she dreamt he was close to her. She said the dream felt so real. He pressed his cheek onto hers and she could feel his skin...the acne scars and the warmth of his cheek. Even though our losses are different, there was a connection.

And that same connection I have felt with many of you. People have shared stories from their own lives and pasts that we otherwise would have never heard.

So I guess I just wanted to thank-you for walking this journey with us, and those of you who will continue to.