Happy Birthday, Darling

The following is a poem written by one of my dearest friends, Mona, for her husband. I've stolen it to repost as an ode to Brent on his 31st birthday. Happy Birthday, my darling, I love you the very best.

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Come, my dearest

lover, brother, friend,

and let me look up at you.

When did you become

an ode to manhood,

a spectacle of

masculinity,

respected

by those

you serve,

those you lead,

those you work with, those you love.

When did you gain

the confidence of kindness,

of wisdom, of accomplishment…

rooting a soul so big...you've become

a sanctuary of shade,

the keeper of clouds,

a dream maker

with branches

strong enough for many to rest upon.

Let me look up at you!

Your gentle power spreads an aura

of love, sincerity, and reassurance

that life can grow men

solid enough,

giant enough,

to deserve

the title

tall enough:

"Husband and Father”.

A Parents' Tribute

The following is the tribute we wrote (which Brent read) for Henry's memorial services. Brent asked me to post it for you all. There are also some friends and family members who posted tributes of their own on their personal blogs in the days following Henry's passing:
Roses for Henry written by my sister, Camille
Brief Pause from Claire
Pause from Kristen
And on a very different, but equally touching note, The Tale of Sir Henry from Mona

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Brent & Emily’s Tribute as Parents to

Our Beautiful Baby Boy Henry

Before I share with you Emily and my thoughts and feelings, I first must thank each of you for coming to share in our celebration of our boy’s life. We thank you for the many prayers in our behalf, the kind notes and words, hugs, flowers, food, rides and everything you have all done for us. I’m sure we’d be crying more and be worse for wear without your help through this.

The following is a combination of thoughts and feelings Emily and I have had and want you to know of our joy in this process.

One of the most uniting and defining characteristics of our marriage has been our love and desire for children. We knew it wouldn’t be easy to start our family but knew that every medical treatment and the years of waiting would be more than worth it. What we didn’t realize was how quickly and deeply we would fall in love with our first baby. We sobbed and poured out prayers of thanks the morning we found out we were pregnant, because that, in and of itself, was a miracle.

We knew several weeks before he was born, that Henry would have an uphill battle but we felt ready to fight along side him. The fact that he had survived 7 weeks with very little fluid to support him was a miracle. The speed and ease of his birth was a miracle and he came out perfect and unharmed. In Emily’s own words: “I remember looking at his tiny, perfectly formed body as the doctors cut the cord and I cried and thanked Heavenly Father for this amazing gift. Henry had made me a mother forever, no matter what happened next.” For me, that moment was both exciting and terrifying as now I had two people I loved both being helped by doctors. I was a Daddy and a Husband and the tears streamed as I watched both in amazement.

The miracles continued to be poured out as the 3 of us trudged our way through the neonatal unit and upcoming 16 days. Henry proved to be quite the champion. We look back on all our interaction with him and all of the things his tiny body was capable of and realize that Heavenly Father truly blessed him with extraordinary physical gifts. He was allowed to experience more than what was normal for his gestation and sometimes more than what is normal for a full-term baby. His ability to recognize his parents’ voices before he could even see us, lift and turn his head, distinguish between holding our fingers and a blanket (he preferred fingers) and so many other things showed his strength. He fought his battles as though he were a brave knight, which earned him the loving title of “Sir Henry” among family and friends. He barely ever cried and we’re pretty sure the few times he did, it was only to try it out and see what it was like.

To us, as his parents, he never seemed like a frail, sick baby. Henry felt like a brave and valiant spirit and we wondered how all of that strength and power could fit into such a little package. But at the same time, when we held him, we knew in our hearts that he was our precious little baby and we gained so much joy from being able to cuddle and comfort him and feel his warm little body relax against ours.

I like to compare our Henry to a group of young men in the scriptures called the stripling warriors; Stripling because they were very young; Warriors because they volunteered to defend their families and country from their enemies that were attacking them. The description of these stripling warriors in the scriptures says: “And they were all young men, and they were exceedingly valiant for courage, and also for strength and activity; but behold, this was not all – they were men who were true at all times in whatsoever thing they were entrusted. Yea, they were men of truth and soberness, for they had been taught to keep the commandments of God and to walk uprightly before Him.” (Alma 53: 20-21.)

When it came time to actually go to battle this is what they said: “…Behold our God is with us, and He will not suffer that we should fall; then let us go forth; we would not slay our brethren if they would let us alone; therefore let us go…” (Alma 56:46.) Their leader then wrote: “Now they never had fought, yet they did not fear death; and they did think more upon the liberty of their fathers than they did upon their lives; yea, they had been taught by their mothers, that if they did not doubt, God would deliver them. And they rehearsed unto me the words of their mothers, saying: We do not doubt our mothers knew it.” (Alma 56:47-48.) Henry is our stripling warrior because he saved his mother’s life. In the many weeks of doctors and bedrest, I saw and know that the doctors were more worried about Emily than they were of Henry. She bravely carried on knowing the risk, even as it got worse and worse. I was not there in Heaven, but I feel that Henry must have been courageous enough to have volunteered to come early to save his mother’s life knowing full well that he himself might not make it. The miracle that we got him for two weeks beyond that, I am forever grateful.

The bond we formed in just a few short weeks is a blessing beyond measure. We are so thankful we got to meet our little Henry Boy and get to know his spirit before he was called home. There are so very many reasons that he shouldn't have even been born or live as long as he did and we will be forever grateful that he negotiated for that time. He could have come and gotten his body in the womb and left before he was born but he wanted to know us and was blessed to have a glimpse of what life is like and that is amazing.

We have been taught and we truly believe that children are pure and innocent, as Jesus said “Of such is the Kingdom” and those taken back before they are old enough to make choices are saved through the power and atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ. We know that Henry is included in this. What peace it brings to us to know we have one child who has already secured a place in the presence of our God. It doesn't take the pain away but it does lessen the sting. Henry had a plan; he just forgot to tell it to us.

Our hearts have been changed forever and we will miss our valiant and brave Sir Henry every single day but know that we will someday be reunited with him, and all that is lost from us now will be restored to overflowing. We believe and trust in the power of Eternal Families and that gives one more reason to live the best and most Christlike lives we can, so that we can be with Henry as a family again, forever. We pray that he is doing well on his new heavenly mission and that he now gets to help prepare his siblings for their earthly journey.

Dear Henry

One of the "tools for grieving parents" I've been reading about is to write a letter to your baby. Not sure how this will work out or come across but I feel like I should do it and today is his due date so it's only fitting. I've been wanting to blog again but feel like it should be about our sweet boy and that is really taxing so I've been putting it off. But it's time to rip off the bandaid.

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My Dearest Henry,

Today is your due date. I'm not sure exactly how I feel about that. I've been planning that it would be really hard so just in case it's not that bad I'll be pleasantly surprised. I'll be spending the day in Ireland with my sisters. I feel bad for leaving your dad home alone but he said he would be fine and I really need to be somewhere that is completely distracting, because as I tell people when they ask how I'm doing, "it only hurts when I think about it". You left us almost 3 months ago. It feels like years on one hand but on the other, like only yesterday. Time is such a strange thing. The 7 weeks I was on bed rest went like nothing but the 16 days we had you here felt like months.

Your dad and I have been bouncing back and forth through the different stages of grief and are not sure exactly where we're at. There seem to be a lot more good days than bad which is some serious progress. We are able to get out of the house (again, major progress) and have fun doing things that we used to do before you came, like dinner out and shows and travelling. Most things are still accompanied by a twinge of sadness that we can't enjoy them with you, so we try to enjoy them for you. I think it'll be that way for a long, long time.

It was almost easier at first (well not easier, but made more sense) to be really really sad that you were gone, because we were supposed to be sad and that's all that was expected of us. What we're dealing with now is more complicated because life moves on and we're supposed to as well. But as it said in an article I read about grief, we're not actually supposed to "move on", we could never move on, that would mean forgetting or ignoring you ever happened. We're supposed to get on with life. Figure out how to incorporate the giant elephant in the room into our everyday life. I think it's going to take months and months to get that figure out, and I think that's ok.

I'm coming to terms with the fact that it's ok to miss you, because I do, with my whole soul. And it's ok to wake up sad and have a crappy day on occasion. I'm trying to be gentle and forgiving with myself and not feel guilty if on those kinds of days I stay in bed til noon and eat junk food and lay around in my pj's on the couch until your dad gets home from work. The key is to make the most of the days when the sun is shining. I found myself one day last week being happy and distracted enough that I didn't even think about you until sometime after lunch and then when I did, it was with joy and sweetness, not with sadness and longing. That was a good day. I want more of those.

I am so thankful for you, every single day. I may have only tasted motherhood but you completed me in a way I never knew was possible. I've spent my life waiting to be a mom and you gave that to me. I came to know you as I carried you around within me for 6 months and then for those beautiful, scary and wonderful 16 days got to experience you and nurture you and share you with my world. In that short amount of time I experienced the soaring heights of joy and the deepest depths of sorrow. I caught a tiny glimpse of what it is like for our Heavenly Father to love us so completely, because that is how I love you, with every fiber of my being. You showed me what it means to be brave and I'm trying to follow your example and keep being brave through this trial. It's hard, I'm not going to lie, but I know that whatever experiences were denied us (me, your dad and you) in this life will be given back, in a fullness I certainly don't deserve, in the next. I've grown up in a church that teaches families are an eternal unit that can never be separated. I've always believed that and knew it to be true but now I can feel it. I need it to be true because my heaven would never be complete without you there. So I'm clinging to that promise. To the covenants that your dad and I made in the temple the day we were married. To a belief in a loving, unchanging Heavenly Father and His Son who gave Himself so that promise could be fulfilled.

I don't know exactly how much you knew while you were here, living in that little clear box but I like to think you were about as close to heaven as someone could be without actually being translated right then and there. Those channels were completely open. I know you knew who your parents were. You knew our love. You knew why you were here and why you had to leave so soon. In those last few days when your eyes were open I think you were trying to show us or prepare us and reassure us. Why else would you have smiled? You knew what was coming. In those last, tender moments of your life, I knew it was time to let you go and get on with your real mission. I don't know what it is, hopefully someday I'll be privileged to find out, but it must be something really important, and for that I can willingly share you with heaven. I'm one of the lucky moms. I didn't lose you to yours or anyone else's bad choices or war or accident. You left us on your terms. Your dad has always been convinced that you had the choice and volunteered to come early to save my life. I'm starting to think the same thing. The reports have come back from the histology department and it turns out I was really sick and on the verge of getting worse. I think you knew that. Our Heavenly Father certainly did.

I look forward everyday to the time when I will get to hold you in my arms again and kiss your tiny round cheeks and hold your little hands. Oh how I miss those hands. I can't wait to see you bond with your dad in the way only a father and son can. I know he misses you. But I know what we are feeling now will be replaced with joy beyond measure that will last for eternity. We will try to wait as patiently as we can.

So thank you. Thank you for saving my life. I would have gladly given you mine but that wasn't an option. Thank you for making me a mother. Thank you for teaching me what unconditional love is. Thank you for being mine and letting me yours. Thank you for helping me realize how deeply I love and need your father. Thank you for showing me how right I was in choosing him to be the father of my children. And thank you for bringing me closer to my Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ than I ever would have gotten on my own.

With all the love I possess,
Your Momma

Brent's 1st Blog Post

Hi, this is Brent. I thought I would come on here and share my first blog post.

This is a quick study break since I have just under 5 weeks to go for my last exam (hopefully forever, or at least a very long time!) and every second counts.

Just wanted to share a bit of news, set to music...