Best friends come from Alabama

Or most of 'em anyway... at least that's true in my life. Monday Carigan and I traveled to Alabama for Susan's funeral. But instead of flying to Montgomery where Susan is from, we flew to Birmingham so I could be with my other best friend Whitney. Susan's my best friend in Florida. Whitney is my best friend from College. They're both from Alabama. (My other two best friends are from Kentucky, but everyone knows that Kentuckians make great best friends!). I spend a lot of time on my blog talking about what a blessing my children are, and what a blessing my husband is, and even what a blessing our extended families are. But I don't stop enough to talk about what a blessing my friends are. I can't begin to describe what my friends mean to me, and what a huge role they play in my life. If I didn't know that already, I figured that out when I lost Susan and suddenly it felt as though my world was crumbling. The word "friend" just doesn't seem adequate. It's just not enough to convey all the love and warmth and support and encouragement and trust and generosity that comes with the territory. You get stuck with the family you get, but you have the extraordinary ability to choose your friends. They're special. Don't miss an opportunity to tell you friends what they mean to you. I'm holding tight to mine right now. Nothing could have been quite as therapeutic for me as hopping on a plane and stepping off into the arms of a best friend. Carigan was my little trooper travel buddy... here she is hanging out in the airport in Tampa waiting for our flight.





Whitney has an 18-month-old boy named Hayes. Spitting image of Whitney's dad and cute as can be. He talks a lot and every word he says ends on a super-high note. My favorite Hayes trick is if you ask him where he lives he says, "Ala-bee-miii" (ending in a super-high note). So great. Obviously he's destined to be a super best friend to someone. Carigan was vaguely interested in Hayes, but Hayes wasn't sure what he thought about sharing the spotlight!

As you can see, Carigan is getting very active and mobile. She's actually crawling now. I did not get to do an 8-month-old post for her because she turned 8 months old the day Susan died. And I had been looking forward to that post because the past month has been a huge one for Carigan. Her biggest change in the smallest amount of time. At 7 months, she couldn't even sit alone. Now not only can she sit, she's crawling, pulling up on stuff, and just generally on the go. She's never still. She had been taking a few creeps at a time, but the first time I saw her just take off across the floor was this past Saturday, the day of Susan's memorial service in Lakeland. Michael had been telling me that Carigan was crawling, but she crawled when I was not in the room, and any time she saw me she's just sit and fuss for me to pick her up. Saturday morning I was coming into the family room after getting ready for the service, and I came up behind a had-not-yet-spotted-me Carigan that was crawling full speed ahead! I ran and grabbed my video camera, but of course she just sat and fussed for me. I've seen her crawl more and more over the past few days though. So I guess Michael wasn't just making it up.

Carigan also started saying "Mama" very clearly this month (mostly when she's upset, but hey, it's unmistakable she knows what she's saying and what she wants!), her bottom two teeth broke through, and she's officially weaned from her swaddling blanket. I don't know if it's from the lack of swaddle or the teething or the fact that she's too busy to nurse all day long and will only nurse when going to sleep, but Carigan has started waking up 1-3 times each night. She used to sleep through the night! My others never slept through the night, so when Carigan did it for so long, I thought we were gold! She is also unique in that she wants very little to do with nursing and she only nurses in a dark quiet room when I'm rocking her to sleep or nursing her in my bed in the middle of the night. Even if she's starving, she just can't seem to handle all the distraction during the day and she'll nurse for like 2 seconds and stop, nurse again for 2 seconds, and stop. I refuse to give her a bottle with formula though, so she's just started devouring the baby food. I do think she makes up for her lack of nursing during the day at night though... it just means I'm getting less sleep! My other two were nursing milkaholics, especially Anna Kate, so it makes me a little nervous sometimes that Carigan seems to be trying to wean herself. I may not make it much past 12 months nursing this one. It's a good thing we don't plan for Carigan to be our last, because I would be very sad. I've enjoyed nursing... love the bond, love the special/prayer time with my babies. I'll be sad when nursing comes to an end. In other milestone news (and just to be completely contradictory in sentiment from my previous statement!), Carigan received her very first official disciplinary measure tonight. I was rocking her and nursing her to sleep and she clamped down on me with those two new teeth of hers and wouldn't let go. I popped her a little on the side of her mouth to get her to let go and firmly said, "NO. Carigan, NO MA'AM." She broke out into the most pitiful hurt feelings cry. I put her over my shoulder and she immediately put her head down on it (which she never does). Sweet thing. If she didn't know what "no" meant before today, I'm pretty sure she's starting to figure it out! She knew I was not pleased with her. Poor sweet thing. Okay, so that's the 8-month-old catch up. Sorry for any overshares... this stuff is just for me. (I mean old me. Ginkgo-biloba me).





Carigan all dressed up for Miss Susan. So glad that Susan got to see and hold Carigan. I only wish Carigan was old enough to remember her. But I know that Anna Kate and especially Wesley will always remember Miss Susan. In the days following Susan's death, I pretty much took a leave of absence from my life. Michael and other friends were incredible and stepped in and took care of the kids for me. Today was the very first day I picked up Wesley from school since Susan's passing, and I have yet to take Anna Kate to school or pick her up... Michael and my friends have had it covered. I'm so grateful for them not only for being there for me in my time of grief, but for being there for my children when I couldn't be. By Friday, I was coming out of my stupor enough to realize that my kids definitely knew something was up. Sweet how they sense those things, especially little girls. I've tried to be careful not to cry in front of the kids (which is why I simply could not be around them last Wednesday and Thursday), but sweet Anna Kate was perceptive of my grief, and she occupied herself and didn't make waves. She's the best neglected child ever... I'd walk through the room (while Wesley was at school) and she'd just be sitting there quietly watching her show with her rumpled nightgown and her disheveled hair, holding a snack on her lap that she'd retrieved herself from the pantry by dragging a stool over there and climbing it.

Anyway, by Friday, I knew it was time to talk to the kids. I asked my mom (my resident early childhood development expert) and she suggested I talk to Wesley alone first, since Anna Kate is really too young to understand. As luck would have it, Wesley was off of school on Friday but Anna Kate still had preschool that morning. Wesley talks about Heaven a lot, and it's something he hears a lot about both at church and in school. My uncle died back in March, and Wesley knew that he went to Heaven and he started to talk about it like it was in Iowa or something. He was kind of fascinated with it, and kept begging me to go there. I told him he wouldn't go there for a very long time, not until he was very old. So Michael and I sat Wes down Friday morning, I said, "Wesley, you know how Uncle Buddy died, and he went to Heaven? Well, Miss Susan died and she went to Heaven too." Wesley's face lit up like a birthday cake and he said, "ALREADY?!!" It was like, "How'd she score that sweet deal?!" It was precious. Pretty amazing that it's the 5-year-old that has the truly correct perspective that's so impossible for those of us that are more "mature" to embrace. I went on to explain to Wesley that we were so happy for Miss Susan because she was with Jesus, but I said that I was very sad because I would not get to see her again for a very long time, and that I missed her. I told him that I was sad for Mr. Tony because he won't get to see her either, and that I'm very sad for Jonah and Claire because they won't have a mommy anymore the way he and Anna Kate and Carigan have a mommy here on earth. Then Wesley's bottom lip started to tremble, and Michael and I sat with him for a minute. I'm not sure if he truly grasps it, because unlike my Uncle Buddy, whom Wes had never met, Susan was a constant presence in Wesley's life. Despite what I've told him, I'm sure Wesley doesn't really understand that he will truly never see Miss Susan again on this earth. As I've been pouring over pictures of Susan on my computer this week, Wesley has come up behind me and seen many of the pictures. If I ask him who that is in the photo holding him, he says, "Miss Susan," and when I ask where she is, he just says very matter-of-factly, "in Heaven" and then skips away to play. Anyway, I got off on a tangent... I don't claim to be mentally "back" yet but I'm trying to be physically "back" at least.

Whitney drove me from Birmingham to Montgomery for the funeral, she watched Carigan for me in the nursery so I could sit and grieve with friends, and she was there for me both before and after the difficult service. What a blessing. Whit's expecting a baby girl in mid-January... her baby and Carigan will be one year apart. I love Whit's baby bump.





After the funeral we met up with Justin (Whitney's husband) and Hayes at a restaurant for dinner, and then we walked over to Target so Whit could get some groceries and I could get some baby food for the flight home. I put Carigan in the seat of the cart for the very first time (I have always just brought her in her carrier and clicked it on top). She loved it. I had to unbuckle the buckle because it kept riding up to her neck, but she sat up like a big girl and laughed really big when I'd speed up and say, "Weeeeeeeeeee!"





Carigan and Hayes in the tub back at Whitney's... I don't think Hayes appreciated her crashing his bath time! He was tolerant. I don't know how to digitally insert strategically-placed rubber duckies into photos like Whit, so it's a boring Hannah little black box for modesty.





We had a rough time trying to catch a flight home... we flew from Birmingham to Atalanta on a 2:00 flight and didn't get out of the Atlanta airport until we finally switched our destination from Tampa to Orlando and were able to get on a 9:30 p.m. flight that got us to Orlando at 11:00. Then we had a baggage issue so we didn't leave Orlando until after midnight. Sweet Carigan was a trooper. I know it's nasty gross, but I had to let her down so she could get some wiggles out on the floor of the airport terminal. It was a long day for both of us (and she didn't fall asleep until she hit Daddy's arms in the Orlando airport!), but we're grateful to be home, and grateful to have been able to go to Alabama to celebrate the life of Susan Griffies and show our love for Tony and for all of Susan's family.

Believe it or not, I'm leaving again in about 12 hours... for Alabama. Yup. After spending all day yesterday trying to get home, tomorrow I will drive 7-8 hours to Mobile. Next week is my mom's fall break (she directs a preschool that follows the Fayette County calendar), and she was torn between flying to see my brother and Angel in Mobile, and coming to see us in Florida. I told her if she'd fly here, I'd drive her up to Mobile for a long weekend. So we already had these plans in place. The kids knew about it and had been counting down the days, and ultimately I think I need this too. So we're still going. I picked up my mom from the airport this evening. It's so great to have her here. In the midst of my sorrow, I've been so encouraged by the overwhelming outpouring of love and prayers and comfort from so many... people I know, people I don't know. People that knew Susan, people that didn't know Susan. But they're all praying for Tony, praying for Jonah and Claire, and even praying for me. I haven't had time (or the emotional presence) yet to go through and reply to most of them, but those prayers and words of encouragement have truly sustained me. What a blessing is the body of Christ! Each of you that has said a prayer for me or for the Griffies family has demonstrated the love of Christ. My heart is broken, but my faith is intact.

No words.

I have no words. No words to describe the horrific devastation, no words to describe what you mean to me, no words to describe the love you've shown me and my family, no words to adequately convey the depth of my grief, and no words to fill the void in my life and in my heart. It still doesn't feel real. The waves keep hitting me again and again and each reminder that you are gone brings fresh tears. I miss you so much, Susan. I keep reading the last texts we exchanged right before you went back for your surgery. You were making me laugh. When I returned home from the hospital around 3:30 this morning, I found a facebook message from you that you'd typed from the waiting room. And since I'm not an iPhone pro like you, I had not been able to check Facebook all day. Just a simple message about having childcare for Jonah and Claire covered. But when you wrote it yesterday morning you were here, and when I read it at 3:30 this morning you were gone. I have no words. So instead of words, I'm going to try pictures.





I guess you could say it all started with Survivor. My game plan for making friends when I moved to Florida was to find Survivor fans and invite them over to watch. You had never really watched Survivor, but you came anyway. Because from the moment I walked through the doors of Highlands Church of Christ, you extended your friendship. You came faithfully every Thursday. It was the highlight of my week. And not because of the show, either. In fact I usually never quit talking long enough to catch much of it. I just loved being with you.





Pretty soon I couldn't brush my teeth without checking to see what you were doing first. I'd call every day to see what you and Tony were doing for dinner. Just in case I wanted to come too. But you did the same. Didn't matter if we planned on eating out, fixing tacos at home, or grilling leftover meatloaf on a generator-powered George Foreman grill during a hurricane... neither of us ever waited for an invitation. If it sounded good we'd just say, "Okay, I'll come over." Then there were the weekends. Ahh, those wondrous before-children weekend hops to Orlando, Tampa, & all over. I had to get a job just to fund our social agenda! Every Friday I'd e-mail Tony to see what y'all had up your sleeves for the weekend. The very first year we moved here we started celebrating birthdays together. Your birthday & Michael's birthday are back to back and my birthday & Tony's birthday are back to back, but we never did any of this combination birthday celebration nonsense... birthdays were always a big deal to you and you made sure they were properly celebrated. Sometimes that meant popping into EPCOT just for lunch in Mexico by the volcano, and sometimes that meant driving aimlessly around Lakeland with two nauseous pregnant women in the back of a car as we discovered that half the restaurants in Lakeland are closed on Mondays. But it didn't matter what we did as long as we celebrated our special days together.





Soon all sorts of adventures ensued. This is what Susan & Hannah look like before and after getting seasick on a deep sea fishing excursion! I logged a lot of Susan time in that first year or two we lived here. You and Tony immediately became our family. Immediately. I've never in my life before or since experienced that type of instant friendship. I remember telling Michael that if you and Tony ever moved, I didn't know if I could stay in Florida. I don't think you ever truly grasped how pivotal your role was in making Florida home for us. Life has been so different for us since we became mommies, and I've missed you terribly. I knew we couldn't go gallivanting all around central Florida eating out and going on adventures all the time once we both had kids, but I truly wasn't prepared for how much I would miss you. My withdrawal pangs from having my weekly dose of Susan greatly reduced were painful, but it really just proved how much you truly mean to me.





Some of my favorite memories are the Disney trips. I've missed you a lot over the past few months because for the first time since we rocked Disney annual passes with you guys in 2005, we have annual passes again. There's a good Susan memory or a funny Susan story around every corner. I've really wished we could go back together. I will always think of you in Disney World and the memories will always make me smile. Even the memory of the time we encountered a small hurricane trying to board the monorail! I can't believe I'll never get to ride another monorail with you.





And then there's you and Tony. Best. marriage. ever. EVER. Thank you so much for being the perfect example of a Godly wife. I've never seen two people more in sync, more in love, more united, more proud of each other, more dedicated to each other, more protective of each other, and more focused on Christ. You weren't ooey-gooey-lovey-dovey with a big show of PDA... the strength of your marriage showed in soft touches, unconditional support, affectionate glances, and most of all in laughter. As I sat with your parents and Tony's parents in the hospital early this morning, we all couldn't help but talk about the wonderfulness of your marriage and the deepness of your love for one another. "Perfectly suited for one another," your mom said. You and Tony got more out of 10 years of marriage than most people get from 50. I even asked you your secret once, marveling at your closeness. Never once, and I mean never ONCE have I heard either of you speak even a mild negative word about the other. But if you want to see either of you get your panties in a wad, just throw a hint of criticism of your spouse in your direction and you'll find out real fast that that's not gonna fly. I admire it. I've learned from it. I've implemented it. My marriage is better for it. When I asked you how you and Tony maintained such a closeness, you said that you weathered so many storms together that early in your marriage it felt like "me and Tony versus the world." You became each other's anchor, support system, pep squad, and personal entertainment committee. You and Tony are more "one" than any young couple I've ever known. I keep asking myself how Tony will be Tony anymore without you.





You also quickly became an accountability partner, one I could be honest with about my spiritual highs and lows, and one that I could always count on to encourage me and lift me up. Spending time with you and Paige was the "main event" for me on spiritual retreats and seminars. Late night runs to Krispy Kreme in Brandon as you prank called friends back at the hotel in Lakeland, serving as Trading Spaces models for Paige at SGW... so many good memories.





Then we both started getting the baby itch. We used to walk Lake Hollingsworth (with Tony and Michael trailing behind) nearly every night. We'd talk babies. We'd talk about when we were going to start trying, what baby names we liked (you had already decided on Claire for a girl and Jonah for a boy), and how well behaved our kids would be. We were full of confidence that we'd be parenting pros and super disciplinarians raising polite, obedient, respectful kids.

Like the young idiots we were, we thought it would be super-fun to coordinate pregnancies so we decided to stop the pill on the very same day. We picked the month, coordinated the day, then started the countdown. Every evening when we started our walk around Lake Hollingsworth, you'd announce "38 more days!" or whatever the number was. We were so excited. We were sure we were going to get to experience pregnancy together. Leading up to the big kick-off, I even wrapped up diapers and pregnancy tests for you for your birthday. We had so much fun dreaming our dreams together and sharing in the anticipation. Gut-wrenching infertility ensued. We were so naive. You continued to lean on the Lord (and on Tony) as I became pregnant and surged straight ahead toward the realization of all those dreams we dreamed as you were left in the dust. Your pain was immense and I knew it, but you showed tremendous grace and loyalty. You felt my baby's kicks, you hosted the baby shower, you helped paint his nursery, you sat in the waiting room as I gave birth, you were the first one through the door to meet him. All in the midst of your pain. You were actually the very first person I called when in labor with Wesley. My water broke at 3 a.m. and Michael and I drove to the hospital and got settled into a room, but it was too early to call anyone. I held the phone and watched the clock and I called you around 6 a.m. because I knew you wake up early! You answered the phone and I said, "I'm gonna have a baby today!" You kept saying, "No WAY!" You are such a big part of the biggest days of my life.





This was a very dark time in your life, but you didn't let your agony over wanting a child keep you from developing a relationship with mine. It wasn't easy for you, and I knew that. But you gave what you could from a place of genuine love. Your love for Wesley meant so much to me. I wanted so badly for you to know the joy I felt as a mom.





Another year went by and you continued to walk through your valley with grace and courage. I prayed so hard for you. I wanted it so badly for you. I'm sure there were nights that you went home and cried from the pain of holding a child when you feared you would never have one of your own. But you never made me feel guilty for my blessings. You rejoiced for me in the midst of your sorrow.





Then God answered our prayers. I remember this night so vividly. You had just found out you were pregnant, but you did not yet know you were having twins. You could NOT wipe the smile off your face all night. We went to Cypress Gardens and then we ate at Olive Garden, and I remember just feeling like a huge weight had been lifted as all these sensitive topics I'd avoided in conversation were suddenly all you wanted to talk about! You were full of questions, full of joy, full of praise to God for His faithfulness. One of my very favorite memories with you.





I happened to also be pregnant with Anna Kate, and so the being pregnant-at-the-same-time dream finally came true. We were cute. We were corny and dorky and we didn't care. You had a much more difficult pregnancy than I did though. You got nauseous often and when we'd make plans to go out Tony would call three times that day saying your craving had changed again and so had your restaurant pick. I got a kick out of it because it was just so exciting that you were pregnant. I remember you sending Tony halfway across town for a sweet tea from Cracker Barrel. He was so great during the whole pregnancy. Any time you and Tony rode in our car, if another driver swerved too close, you'd yell from our small Camry, "HEY! There's eight people in this car!!!" 5 in seats and 3 in our tummies.





Celebrating Michael's birthday when we were both "great with child." We watched each other's ultrasound videos. It was great fun. You marked each baby with a bow... I only got one bow for my singlet. -Below- Once again, you helped host my baby shower with Anna Kate. We were both part of The Great Highlands Baby Boom of '07. Melissa was expecting Isabella and Sarah was expecting Maison. Beth was also pregnant with Megan, Kelly with Emma, & Angela with Jack.





You and Tony played a big role in Anna Kate's sudden arrival. We called you when I went into labor in the middle of the night and you and Tony got out of bed and drove to our house to sit with Wesley. You said you looked at your watch as we drove away and it was 1:50 a.m. Anna Kate was born at 2:09 a.m. inside the hospital, thank you God! We barely made it!





The evening we were discharged from the hospital with Anna Kate, I was having a craving for Chick-Fil-A. Michael ran out and got me some but forgot to double check the bag to make sure they gave me polynesian sauce. Tragic! I called you and asked if you'd go to Chick-Fil-A and just get me some sauce. You did. And you brought double doozies too. Now if that ain't love!





I loved watching you with Anna Kate in those few months leading up to the birth of Claire and Jonah. It went from heart-wrenching watching you hold Wesley to immense joy watching you hold Anna Kate. I have marveled again and again at God's faithfulness to our prayers and how much He has blessed us. That's one of the reasons I'm having a really hard time making sense of your loss. The battle was getting the babies here... once God answered that prayer I assumed you'd be there to watch them grow old and gray. Susan, I cannot believe you're gone. A new wave of grief hits me every few minutes, even as I sit and write to you.





Your turn finally came. For once I got to host your shower and visit your hospital room in the mother and baby unit at LRMC... you were actually in the exact same room that I was in with Anna Kate! Our special bond. Right outside the nurse's station where we could hear the pages and buzzers and bells go off all night long! The babies were in NICU, but they were perfect, just tiny.





And then you were a mom. And you rocked it. You put us all to shame with your compartmentalized monogrammed baby bags with diaper changing kits and Baby Wise sleeping & eating schedules! You put 100% into everything you did with them and for them. And you did everything you said you were going to do years before as we walked the lake... you trained your children to be polite and respectful and well behaved. Even at not-quite-yet-3, they're already who they are because of you. Some people are saying it's sad that Jonah and Claire won't remember you, but I strongly disagree. I do not have a doubt in my mind that they will remember you. You have left so much of yourself for them. Pictures and blogs and videos and letters and journals... they will never be given the opportunity to forget! I'm comforted that they will have so much of you to see and hear and read. And we promise we will talk with them about their mommy every. single. day. This morning they woke up knowing you better than anyone in their little universes, and that will not change for a very long time. We will make sure they remember.





We have long talked about watching our kids grow up together, but I didn't know you would be watching from Heaven. I'll take care of them the best I can from down here if you help me out from up there... we have always said we'd do this together. I feel so alone but I know I'm not. I don't really know how it all works up there in Heaven, but maybe now I can talk to you without having to charge my phone or access Facebook. I feel I can talk to you and hopefully you are aware of the burdens of my heart. I still need you, Susan. I miss you so much.





Once again, you were the first to arrive to see my new addition this year. You actually beat me to my mother and baby room with Carigan. Not sure how you managed that, but I just know that when they wheeled me into my room, you were already there. We had to wait a bit for the nurse to bring Carigan from the nursery. In the meantime you taught me how to use the swaddling blankets you brought me because I'd been so impressed by how well Claire and Jonah sleep. Your swaddling blankets were a hit with Carigan and I just now weaned her off of them! When they brought Carigan to me, I handed her straight to you. I was not amused with the nursery staff giving my new baby girl a little comb-over mohawk, though. We mentioned it to my on call nurse and she said, "Alice keeps doing that to all the little girls and it's making the mommies really mad... I think she thinks it's funny!"

I think this may be the last picture I have of us together. It was taken at yet another baby shower. Seems a proper setting for our final frame. I am struggling with so much guilt for not giving the slightest consideration to the possibility of losing you as a result of your procedure. I acted as if you were going in for a root canal. I was praying, but praying that the procedure would be successful, praying no further treatment would be needed, praying you would not feel any pain during recovery. I never for a moment thought I could lose you. I prayed like I've never prayed before in the surreal blur that was Tuesday afternoon and evening. I cried like I've never cried before when we knew you were gone. But I found some peace sitting with your earthly vessel and holding your hand and stroking your face and saying good-bye. Thank you for giving me that time last night. I love you so much, Susan. Thank you for blessing my life profoundly.

I wrote this status update on my Facebook this afternoon, and friends started asking to copy and paste it onto their pages. When I arrived at church tonight, they had printed it in the bulletin alongside the announcement of your passing. I think it's as good a job as I can do today at making any sense of this pain:

Everyone has been begging God for a miracle, and He responded, though selfishly not with the miracle our hearts yearned for. Susan's organs are being prepared for donation. She's dying as she lived - generously. I take a little comfort in knowing that in the midst of our devastation, several families out there somewhere are getting the call they've prayed for and the miracle they've cried out to God for.

We love you, Susan. This is not good-bye. More than ever now, I set my mind on things above. For that is where you are.

Family Portraits 2010