The anniversary of Noah’s birth is approaching. Who knows what will come with the day May 3rd. It is hard not to look to the future and wonder what I will do on that day in 5 years, 30 years. How long will I feel the need to remember, celebrate, grieve on May 3rd – whatever it is I will do. And will it be okay that first year that I don’t? I have a hard time focusing on the now. Maybe because I would rather speculate my feelings years from now then actually feel them now. I can tell you I am not looking forward to that day. Inspired by Joe Hays’ recollection of Ira’s birth, I hope to recall Noah’s next week. Like Ira, Noah’s birth and the things leading up to it, were overlooked by the unexpected events afterwards.

Check back soon.

That is a question I have heard many times in the last week. I received several notes from people telling me that they were praying for us through this hard time of the year. And one might say, that I didn’t need those prayers because everything went very well. But I know it is because of the prayers that I was able to enjoy this time of year. Thank you.

We (Ethan and I) really had a great Christmas, honestly a Christmas like years past. We added a few new traditions for Noah, and I hope that we continue those for years to come. But I did not have an overwhelming emptiness. I cannot say that for Noah’s aunts, uncles or grandparents, but only for myself. And here is what I have discovered.

With so many people implying that this time of year is difficult, I assumed that I would be sad and that I “needed” to be sad. So like grief, when it doesn’t happen the way you think, you feel you must be doing something wrong. But to me, December 25, was no different than May 12, the day after Noah died, or Jan 4, today. Each day is a day without Noah. Each day is filled with thoughts of what Noah be doing right now. Each day I visualize his car seat next Alyssa’s as I buckle only one child in. Each day I walk past “his” room and think of how it is not being used as I wanted it to be. Each day I wish my life were more hectic because I had two kids, not just one.

So yes, Christmas was different than I wanted it to be. I wanted to see Noah smearing icing all over himself as the cousins decorated cookies together. I wanted to see him eat the paper the way Alyssa did. I wanted to buy him “boy” toys. And I wanted him in the family pictures. But I wanted those things no more than I want him pulling up on my leg as I try to do something “important” on the computer right now. So because I miss his presence everyday, maybe Christmas was not as hard as expected.

Thank you for continuing to think of us. And with God’s grace, we are looking forward to new beginnings in 2006.

Christmas is approaching. It has been over 7 months. The usual comment, “I can’t believe the year is already over,” is just not true to me this year. I can remember being pregnant like it was yesterday. I can remember the drive to TX Children’s like it was yesterday. And I can remember Noah in my arms like it was this morning! But this has been an unusually long year.

Our family is doing well. I have several reminders through our house of Noah and that makes me feel good. Not everyone likes to be reminded, but I do. Alyssa and her cousins still send balloons up to Noah any chance they get, and we will remember Noah in other ways this Christmas. The kids are going to purchase teddy bears for the Missouri City Police to put in their cars. Brad told the kids that we can buy the bears for other kids since they do not get to buy a present for Noah this year. We have Noah’s angel ornament on our tree. My mom will have a stocking for Noah at her house, and we will place notes that we write to him in it. Finally Christmas Day, I will have red and green balloons for the cousins to let go. They all really connect with Noah in that way. Honestly, I like to believe he gets those gifts in some special way.

Alyssa has a photo of her and Noah in her room. Here is a conversation we had today:

Julie: Give Noah a kiss. Say I love you Noah.
Alyssa: (Kiss) Love you Noah… He’s up in heaven.
Julie: Yes, he is.
Alyssa: What we going to hold on to, to go to heaven?
Julie: Balloons can go up to heaven, but we can’t go. Who takes us to heaven?
Alyssa: God.
Julie: Yeah, God will take us up to heaven.
Alyssa: He has to help us.
Ethan: Jesus will come down and take us all to heaven to see God and Noah.
Alyssa: Yeah! (smiling, giggling) Then I can play with my brother Noah.

I love that she still remembers him. I love that she questions me if Noah’s picture gets moved. I love that she will keep him alive in her child-like ways. We miss you son.

From Noah’s Nana:
As the holidays approach I find myself drawn to Noah and the few short days we had with him. It has been 7 months and I try to determine how I should be feeling now. So I am sharing just a few of my thoughts.

First of all, it still hurts. It aches; it rips. It makes my heart feel like it is going to break into pieces. Yet in the midst of all of that, I am so comforted by the presence of God and His hand on me. He lets me yell and cry and ask over and over why this had to happen. And somehow He then sends a peace over me that helps me go on. Thank you, God.

Most people say we are handling the loss with such spiritual faith. And, I guess we are. But each of us in the family have our own road to walk down as we wish Noah was here and try to accept the future without him. Some of us cry, listen to his praise songs, look for things to remind us of him, and share a little of our feelings. Others still need to protect their emotions and prefer to keep their pain private. I believe God understands all of these ways. Just hang on to Him!

Then there is the way our little ones remember Noah. You can’t be around Alyssa without having her remind you or anyone she meets that “her brother is in heaven with God.” She tells us how much she loves him and misses him and how all our family will get to go see him one day!!!!! The cousins and little family friends talk about him and send him balloons just like Alyssa. They all know he is happy ” playing with Jesus.” Oh the faith of children!

So as I look to Christmas time, I wish more than anything that Noah was here to be part of the “cousins”. It is hard knowing I won’t be buying presents for him and watching him roll over or try to crawl or smiling at me as I play with him. But Julie has made it possible for me to outwardly remember him. She got picture frames for each of the grandkids for my tree and there is one of Noah. He is right there on the tree with the rest of them. Thank you, Julie!

The most comforting thought is that God knows exactly how I feel — And He gave HIS son willingly. How much He loves me and He will wipe away all tears on that day that we get to see our Noah again. In the meantime, we will all go on living and trying to be God’s servants — some days harder than others — and will thank Him every day for giving Noah to us for even a short time.

To all of you who have prayed for us and continue to do so: Thank you for your love and support. And we pray that Noah’s life and death has helped you grow closer to the God who loves you and will always be there for you.

Nana Eller
December, 2005

I’m taking the liberty as uncle Steve, to make a post today in tribute of Noah’s 6month Heavenly Homecoming. After watching Ira’s video the other night, I was thinking about how awesome to see the friends and family stand and cheer. And I can only imagine… at least I try, to see that celebration in Heaven through the doors to God himself. As he holds 144,000 balloons for Noah. Really, that’s my theological interpretation of the 144,000 …… I still miss you little Noah. But thank you for playing with Tate. He sure loves the company. I love you and your mom and your dad and your sister. They are very precious to me. I love you too.
steve

I want to share the memories we have of Noah with you. I created a movie earlier this summer, and thought it was time to realease it. It is a large file and requires QuickTime.

View the movie

I am not a “reader.” In fact, I think I made it to my college years with only a handful of books read. Within the past 3 months, I have read 5 books and working on my sixth. Most of them deal with grief and most of them are written by mothers. I am amazed at how my feelings can be described so well in some of these books. Some of the emotions I feel have been felt by women for ages, and it is comforting to read that I am not alone.

Here are some ideas that I like from these books:
Far from [Noah], I feel so lonely. I have to be close to God, or I can’t do this. The important things are very clear, yet I can make myself deaf. Oh, God, let this not be wasted pain. Let this time work in me the work you intended. Let my baby not have died in vain.

God determined to take him to His home at the age of [8 days]; the means was incidental. [Noah’s event in the womb], was incidental. It was one of many ways to die. If God is sovereign, these phrases are not merely fatalistic. They present actual reality. God counted the days of [Noah’s] life – the hairs on his head. The breaths in his body. The number was finished. [Noah] lived 100% of his life. He was complete.

… death makes us assess the meaning and worth of life. Also helpful is the reminder that one hundred out of one hundred people die. 100%. If it happens to everyone, you are not being persecuted.

Job says to his wife, “Should we only accept good things from the hand of God and never anything bad?” We have an unspoken expectation that a good God will bring only what we consider to be good things into our lives. We never expect him to allow and perhaps even bring difficulty into our lives.

Have you ever noticed that people who suffer are marked with a beauty, a deepening, a transformation? This only occurs, however, when they can enter the suffereing and look around for God in the midst of it. Otherwise, they are marked with bitterness and emptiness.

God does not allow meaningless suffering. If God has allowed suffering into your life, it is for a purpose. A good purpose. A holy purpose.

We have to trust God with everything we have, to open ourselves and say, God it is all yours (my life, my children’s lives) to do with as you will.

Maybe I should read more often?

After Noah died, I had this idea to make a bench in his memory. Everyone in our family had the opportunity to paint their own tile for Noah. The younger kids just did handprints, but picked out the color they wanted. We painted the tiles at The Mad Potter and they fired, grouted and sealed the whole bench. I wanted to put the bench somewhere special, so we made a garden in the backyard. It is now my “Garden of Hope.” I planted espiranza bushes in the back that produce yellow trumpet-shaped blooms from summer till frost. Espiranza means “hope”, hence my “Garden of Hope.”

Thank you to all my family who edulged me by painting a tile. Each one represents just how much Noah is loved.

Romans 8 says, “… We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.” I have heard many people say that, but felt that more than ever tonight. Driving home tonight after a less than uplifting doctor’s visit, I cried out in prayer to God. But I literally had nothing in my head, no words came to my mouth, all the hurt was there, but it only came out as a groan. And thank God that is all I had to do. I don’t have to put into words what I feel or what I want. Thank God that he knows my every thought and need even before I do.

I thought I had come to terms with the idea that we may never know what happened to Noah. And that was okay. He was the way he was because God made him that way. It was not an accident or a punishment, it just was. But as Ethan and I look to the future of another child, Noah’s condition really clouds that lens. All of the questions about Noah turn into percentages of suffering the same loss with another child. Without knowing what caused it no one can say it won’t happen again. There are still conversations to be had and questions to ask, but that is weighing heavily on my mind tonight. We left Texas Children’s with the impression that this was not genetic and should not affect future pregnancies, but tonight I feel different. All I feel are groans.

On a lighter note, I saw my first real rainbow last night. I have seen many in my lifetime, but now a rainbow has a new meaning. The rainbow is a sign of the covenant between God and life on earth, but the rainbow also reminds me of Noah. It was a beautiful site. It gave me peace and put a smile on my face. Alyssa paints on paper and my Noah paints in the sky.

I had a strange thought awhile back. I don’t remember what my dad’s hands looked like. I am not sure why this bothers me so much. Maybe it is because I spend so much time looking at mine. They are pretty much in front of me all day long and I wonder if mine look like his. I wonder if we use them the same way in conversation. I wonder if we had the same mannerisms and gestures. It is hard to believe it has been almost 10 years since he died.

I think about his hands because they are so important to who you are. They are how he earned his living. They are how he carried us and comforted us. They are a big part of how he communicated with us. I think back now to all those times he made me hold his hand in public even as a young teenager. I don’t know if it was to help keep him steady (editor’s note: my dad was handicapped) or some other reason. I know he once told me he he was proud to hold my hand and that in other countries the customs were quite different about holding hands. Dad never traveled to other countries so I don’t know if he just made that part up to hold on as long as he could. Maybe now I know why.

I think maybe deep down Dad always knew alot more about what was happening to him then he let on. He and mom sheltered us kids as long as possible. How I long to just hold his hand now. The similarities between his passing and Noah’s passing are interesting. Both going home “before their time”, of course the next logical question is when is the right time? Both having severe brain problems, both dying of respiratory failure. Both with the middle name Allen. I look back now and wonder what was God preparing me for? And just like Mom and Dad sheltered me what has my heavenly Father sheltered me from?

I think of Abraham’s hands wrapped around the knife, white knuckled with sweat dripping off his brow. Isaac, not laughing, bound montionless waiting to see what’s going to happen. But the angel of the Lord cried out Abraham! I can’t imagine how quickly Abraham’s hands worked to undo the bindings on Isaac. (I also wonder as Isaac grew older if he remembers the incident, what a story for family reunions.) But why did he save Abraham’s son and not mine? Did I not show enough faith? Were my hands not raised to heaven?

But alas I realize that my faith is not that of Abraham’s. I doubt I would have been able to place Noah on the altar. I wouldn’t have been able to unsheath the knife. I wouldn’t have been able to willingly sacrifice my son and how I yearn to have him here. Maybe God did it for me and it reminds me of the sacrifice of his Son. How his hands were pierced. The hands with the power to heal, the power to cast out, the hands with the power to calm the waves. How his hands have lifted me up! I am thankful that the master carpenter was a able to build the bridge between me and God. Now I just have walk across it each day and take hold of his hand. – Ethan