Alexandria's Journey

Jeremiah 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

After Kimberly and I were engaged my sister Marybeth pulled Kim aside and told her, “If you ever have a daughter, the sun will rise and set on her.”  I denied this with great gusto, but in my heart I knew she was right.  I wasn’t even married and I knew what I’d say to boys when they showed up to court her, “I have a gun and shovel, I doubt anyone will miss you.”  Granted I’ve toned down a bit over the years…

We spent our honeymoon in the mountains of Vermont.  The trees were changing color for early fall, it was postcard serene.  It was a beautiful small town, a wonderful inn, we had a great time.    We’re simple people, small town kids, and it was a warm wonderful getaway.  The trip felt like going home for Christmas during college; that cozy familiar feeling of home, with an air of newness.

One of the stores in town was a doll-house shop.  I know what you’re thinking, a doll house shop?  Sure enough, a business entirely dedicated to the building of custom dollhouses.  Life-like miniature houses with tiny furniture, carpet, even electric lights.  The gentleman that owned the place was working on an exact replica of this woman’s estate to give to her granddaughter.  There were houses of all shapes and sizes, alongside all the tools and supplies to build them.  Kim saw the gleam in my eye, I was going to build one of these someday.  I had modest carpentry skills, I’d built a small light-up church for the top of our wedding cake… but had no real tools at this point in life.  However, I was set on building any daughter a dollhouse like this, not buying… building, one with all the works, real lights, carpet, tiny furniture, the whole deal.  Kim didn’t blink, she’s always supported my odd endeavors.

A few years later we bought our first house.  It was an 100 year old craftsman 2 1/2 story with quartersawn oak floors and trim.  It was in rough shape though, and we gutted it down to the studs.  I saved the woodwork though, carefully cataloging it as we took it down and stored it in the basement.  We replaced the entire interior, except the trim, in a few months.  It was my first attempt as a general contractor, and was also how I began to assemble “the shop.”  The second floor trim of the house was a total loss, but we wanted it to look like everything else, so I build that trim from scratch in the basement.  That required tools.    Over the year I built and refinished all the trim in the house.  I honed my skills.  I did ok.

Time passed and Aden was born.  For a while our dream of a big family was put on hold, but eventually we decided to have more children…  and hopefully one day a daughter.  The dollhouse was still in my mind, but other projects popped into my head as well.  A trunk, for our sons.  Toys.  Every daughter needs a Jewelry Box.  A hope chest.  Kim didn’t have a Hope Chest, and that seemed like a good start… so I built her one for Christmas 10 years ago, complete with dovetailed sides, all out of good aromatic cedar.  Another project to fine-tune my skills, I believed I’d build another one of these.  One for a little girl.  One with secret compartments for a diary, or jewelry.  The daydreams became bigger too, like what would I build for wedding gifts… a bedroom set?  A dining room table?   I never seem to dream small.  Kim laughs that I never dream small.

Once Ethan was born I began to push those dreams into the distant future, they began to fade.  Kim and I had conceived four boys, the chance for a girl seemed less and less likely.  Instead of building them for a daughter, I began to think that perhaps it would be granddaughters who’d get a dollhouse, jewelry box, etc.  The hope of walking my little girl down the aisle began to fade…

But that changed on August 12th, 2011.  For twenty minutes my mind was swimming.  All of our dreams were coming true.  We’d just bought a new house, had great neighbors, a good new school for Aden, and now we were having a girl!  Everything I’d dreamt, thought, and hoped for with a daughter came rushing back.  All of the things we’d get to do with her, all of the things I’d build for her.  It was coming true!

And it all came crashing down.  Hard.

I can still hear Kimberly’s cry of horrible disbelief.  The anguish in her voice, and the waves of confusion, fear, and almost palatable nausea that swept through the room.  I do not know how we’d have gotten through it without Dr. VandenBosch.  She was kind, compassionate, and clearly cared about our well-being and the well-being of Alexandria.  She broke the news as well as is possible under those circumstances.  No doctor could have done better then her, we were very blessed to have her.  It hit us harder than anything prior.  We were having a girl, and she wasn’t going to stay.

The future, so often in doubt, became clear very quickly.  No dollhouse.  No jewelry box.  I wouldn’t get to walk her down the aisle, but instead I would carry her to the grave.  I had the skill-set though, I could make her something to protect her and sleep in for all time.  I’d make something worthy of her, I’d honor her by building her casket.

If you’re out there researching building a casket for a child on google or yahoo you’re going to be sorely disappointed.  I found plenty of sites that were willing to sell caskets, but extremely few that outlined how to build one or have designs.  I had an idea in my mind of what I wanted, but found nothing close to what I wanted.  Perhaps I was looking for something too specific…  there are concepts I had about the casket, some were simple woodworking ideas, others were casket specific.  I wanted that all in one place.  Something to help me think it through.   Maybe Google just… doesn’t have them indexed properly.  Maybe there aren’t that many like me… I don’t know.  I can’t be the first.

I won’t be the last.

I started out looking for a good wood supplier.  Most of the companies in Grand Rapids that used to supply wood have gone under.  I was able to find one that had what I was looking for, good Cherry stock, great woodgrain, it was perfect.  I didn’t have a complete plan for the casket yet, just an idea in my head.  I returned a few days later with a list of stock that I needed.  During conversations I avoided explaining the project, just that it was small, the sizing, etc.  Eventually while assembling the order the owner outright asked me what I was building.  I couldn’t avoid it any longer and told him, “A casket.”  He could tell by the look on my face, the requirements for wood quality it was important.  “This is for someone you really care about.”  “Yes.”  He figured out by size requirements what that meant.  He offered to give me the wood for free.  I thanked him for the offer, but said no.  I didn’t voice it, but I wasn’t going to take charity on this project.  I would pay for this with my own money, earned through my hard work, and build it with my own hands.

So building began….  Gabriel often came into the shop.  By the time she was to arrive he knew what a casket was.  “What’s a casket?”  “Well, it’s what your body is laid to rest in after you die.”  “Why is Baby Alex going to die?”  “She’s very sick, but not sick in a way you can get sick.”  We had that conversation a dozen times.  It helped him process it, come to grips with the concepts.  Vogt boys need to hear the same thing over and over.   Sometimes he’d work on “his own project,” which consisted of stacking some wood and banging it with a hammer.  Other times he’d help me, sand some parts or hand me tools.   He had a vested interest in it.  It helped us connect.  It helped me cope, and I think it helped him cope too.  “Won’t she be scared in there?”  “You aren’t scared after you die, you don’t feel fear, or hot, or cold.”  “What about when she wakes up?”  “She won’t wake up in here, she won’t be sleeping.   When you die your body no longer moves, you don’t eat, you don’t sleep, you don’t breathe.”  Words we’d been given to help him through counseling, through talking with other parents in our situation.  It’s hard to help a 4 year old grasp death.

Over time I had a few people (friends/neighbors/family) come into the shop and ask what I was building.  Some knew what to say, others were understandably awkward and said nothing.  I think it was too real for them.  There are people now that can’t talk to me about her, won’t look at her picture, watch her videos.  They don’t want to hear it.  I think the thought of going through what we did, with their own children, is something they just cannot face.  They can’t conceive of it, and it’s too close for them.  I needed that though.  I needed people to ask.  I needed people to be interested.  I needed to talk.  I’m thankful to those that could, that can.   I love talking about her.  I may cry, but I love talking about her.

As the casket progressed I began to think about what I wanted the inside to look like.  I asked Kim is she wanted to make the inside, the mattress, sides, and pillow.  That… was a little too much for her.  Kim did not want to see the casket until it was done.  It was too close and brought too much too close.  For me, making the casket, was therapeutic.  For Kim, making her blanket was.  Once I knew she did not want to make it I knew exactly who I wanted to do it.  My mother-in-law, Gretta.  She’s incredibly talented with sewing, has made all three boys wonderful teddy bears, has made quilts, you name it.  When she was visiting one day I pulled her into the shop and  showed her what I’d built so far.  She said all the right things, we cried a bit, and then I asked if she’d be up to making the inside.  She said yes, she’d love too.  I gave her a rough drawing of the inside measurements, that I would like white, and how big/thick I thought everything should be.  A few weeks later she returned with a mattress, pillow, and side-rails.  It was perfect.

 

I finished it shortly thereafter.  I often prayed that we would not have to use it.  I kept it in the shop for a long time, but did bring it into the house to take pictures of it once.  Eventually I wanted to make a set of plans for it, so if someone else was in my position they could use them as a guide… to have more information thanI did.

 

After she was born, I put it out of my mind.  In January I moved it into my office… the shop was cold, and I didn’t want this to be cold.  When the time came, if we did need it, I wanted it to be warm.  I knew what would need to be done when she passed on, Gabriel would need to see her laid to rest in it.

And she did.  She left.

We knew it was important for Gabriel to understand death.  To understand Alexandria was not asleep, she was not going to wake up, that she was gone.  We’d done our best to prepare him for that, to make him understand that this casket would be her resting place.  I included him in every step, from building, to the end.  “Do you want to help me lay her down?”  “Yes“  We carried her to the casket, which I’d moved into the dining room.  We laid her down, he tucked her in.

We closed the lid together.

“Can I lock it?”

“Yes” and I handed him the key.

He was begining to understand the finality.  We took pictures, so he’d remember the moment, so he wouldn’t think it was a dream or that she did not die.  That was difficult to do, but necessary for someone so young.  He “cleared the way”, walking in front of me out to funeral directors car, where we let her go.

So, over the last few months, on and off, I’ve worked on creating a set of plans for the casket.  I created a fairly close approximation of her casket in Google Sketchup, so that other people can benefit from what I learned.  Hopefully it will help others.

You never know the path your life will take.  You never know what God will call upon you to do.  Sometimes his plan is so difficult to see.  But we must have faith, he’s never let us down before.

 

 

The Google Sketchup file can be found here:  Child Casket Woodworking Plan

Hardware:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Woodcraft Small Box Lock

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rockler Flange Hinge

A year ago today I walked into Pastor Robert Appold’s office at St. Matthew Lutheran Church.  I had called him several days prior, explained I was someone who’d attended his church once or twice, and needed someone to talk to… some help.  Kimberly and I had learned of Alexandria’s diagnosis two months prior and were in complete mental and spiritual freefall.

I laid everything out for him, and I mean everything.  I told him about Aden, how we found out he had Down Syndrome when he was born, his deafness, the difficulties we’d had over the years.  Our loss of Matthew.  Our struggle to find a church home.  Alexandria.  I was going to lose my daughter.  I had to get my family through this.    I wanted all of my children to know God, even Alexandria, no matter how much or how little time we were given.  I had to be able to explain God, the afterlife, and death to our extremely inquisitive three year old.  We were lost, we were drowning, and needed help.

I can’t even imagine someone laying all that at my feet in an hour.  I feel a little guilty about that.  I often wonder if this type of thing shows up in his office every now and then…  Either way, I am very thankful God sent me there.  There were things Pastor Rob said during our conversation that confirmed for me I was in the right place, things I believe the Lord knew I’d need to hear to be comfortable.  Trusting does not come easy to me.  It takes me time to open up to people.  We spoke for quite a while and he believed his congregation would welcome us without fail.  He asked me to come on Sunday and either he or I could explain Aden’s condition, his behaviors, so that people would understand him better… and share what I could about our family.

Sunday came.  I sat in the back, hiding myself away.  I wasn’t sure I could do it, I wasn’t sure I could stand up in front of 200 strangers.  I lack a gift of public speaking.  Pastor spoke briefly to the congregation, then asked me to come up.  I looked out at all of these people and did the same thing, I laid it all out, from Aden to Alexandria.  My family is in crisis.  I need help.  Please help me.

I did not expect the reception I received after service…  they flocked to me afterwards.  They opened their hearts, hugged me, I was overwhelmed with support.  There were families there that had experience with losing a child, people who knew sign language, educators familiar with the developmentally disabled…  It was, and it is, the right place.   Luke 9:11 “So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.”  I never had a prayer answered so quickly and so completely.  Each step of the way through our journey with Alexandria the congregation of St. Matthew has been there with us.  Even now, as I struggle with her passing, they are with me. 

That day, a year ago, changed our lives.  I can never thank you enough for saving us.

 

 

She left us 6 months ago today, but I find myself thinking more about her birth then her death.  Not her springing to life after her baptism, or the gasps of the staff in the room, but more about the good moments afterwards.   She had such incredibility cute ears, it was hard to keep them under the hat we had for her.  New baby skin is incredibly soft, her ears were super floppy.  Tiny little floppy perfect little ears.

Getting her dressed for the first time was a challenge.  I was so afraid I’d hurt her, and let me tell you she was one strong little lady.  She had no interest in having her her arms moved into sleeves.  Alexandria felt so fragile, I wanted to be so careful as to not hurt her.  One thing she did love about the experience was the warming lamps she was under.  In the photo below I was sure my hair was going to catch fire.  She was very content there, very happy, calm, when she laid there, at least while I wasn’t try to wrestle her into clothes…

Once the boys arrived they were very interested….  Well, some of them.  Aden wasn’t, he knew the drill and you could see “oh man, that’s a bundle of trouble” in his eyes.  Gabriel was thrilled though, he knew momma was having a baby again and it fascinated him.  Ethan… wasn’t so sure, his facial expression was along the lines of “Where in the world did you get that?”

 

 

 

 

I was so incredibly happy.  We were getting time.  We were getting to meet her, to speak to her, sing, hold, cuddle… to love her.  It was scary, she’d have episodes and it could all abruptly end, but when she was happy and cooing the way small babies do, I’ve never been happier.  Even when she scrunched up her face to let us know she wasn’t terribly happy with being pulled from the warm, quite comfortable home inside momma…. I still beamed with pride and happiness.

 Gabriel too was proud and excited.  With me and NILMDTS taking pictures he had to grab momma’s camera and take some of his own.  He wanted to be a photographer like his daddy, to capture these moments with his sister…

 

It was such a perfect day, the first of many.  The holy spirit filled up that room, it felt so safe.  We were wrapped in it.  We prayed thanks, we held Him up who’d granted us such a wonderful season.  Thanks be to God.

Michigan has entered in a new law that allows a more… robust version of fireworks to be legally used in the state this year.  Not having to get them from another state is a nicety, but I learned today it’s not without consequences. 

Today is the 5 month anniversery of Alexandria’s death.  You’d think on a day like today I’d be more then happy to blow some things up, but I wasn’t really in the mood.  We’re planning our yearly neighborhood BBQ and fireworks show for this weekend, and since no out of state driving is required, Gabriel and I went to the local fireworks store to pickup some rockets.  They had a neat firetruck there, which I allowed him to climb all over.  He wanted to know about each type of firework, and it was a good time for both of us.  It got my mind off of things.  Until we checked out.

The cashier was a nice young woman and Gabriel, in regular fashion, flirted like no other.  She told him how cute he was, he agreed.  *roll of the fathers eyes*  She asked him if he was 4 years old, and he said yes.  She proceeded to tell him she had a sister who had just turned five…..  I knew exactly where this was going to go.  It was like standing on the edge of a lake, teetering on the edge, you know you’re going to go in, you know what’s coming, but it’s all in slow motion…….  Gabriel paused and said, “My sister is baby Alex and she died, I miss her a lot.”  The cashier said it was sad, I don’t know if she believed him, but he continued, “she was very sick and very little when she died.”  It was hard to hear his voice say that.  I didn’t lose it, which was a start for me.  But I didn’t make eye contact with the cashier from that point, I knew that would set me off.  I did my best to keep my composure, and affirmed his feelings, “Yes Gabriel, we miss her very much.”  And we left.

All afternoon Gabriel brought her up and I’d talk with him about her.  Eventually he said something about not seeing her anymore, and I said we can see her in the pictures and videos we have.  I asked if he wanted too, and he was overjoyed that he could share his “book” with me.  He and Kimberly have been working on a book of his favorite pictures of her, something we have been told in counseling will help him.  I think it is.

 

Acts 2:25  David said about him: “‘I saw the Lord always before me. Because he is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.”

Lately I do not know what to say, or post.  I’ve started a few posts, but have no interest or will to finish them, mostly because the nature of them is dark.  Kim and I have seen a grief counselor a few times, but I just can not continue to go there.  I feel when I am there, and I can not keep things together.  My guard slips and the impact lasts for days.  I can’t operate like that.  I just need time.  I need to come to grips with this on my own terms.

Kim and the boys went to Midland this weekend so I could work on our garden in the back.  I have a few retaining walls that need to be built, it’s slow going, but I enjoy the work for the most part.  The house is too empty though.  It’s too quiet.

At Pentecost everyone was bewildered and amazed at what happened, and as Pastor Nick said this morning often times we ourselves are bewildered at God’s plan.  We want to understand and learn more.  Like him, I’m the type that needs as much information as possible, I like to know all aspects of something.  I know she touched and continues to touch people’s lives.  I have tried to help other families who are just starting their journeys with Edwards Syndrome, to help others with what we learned.    … But even so…  my bewilderment remains.  I feel I will not understand this, until I see her again.