My new matra for life is: “Live. Love. Laugh. Cry. C’est la vie.”

Anyone who knows me knows that I’ve never been one to just up and follow the crowd without having a good reason to do so.  And for the most part I’ve always been a pretty laid back guy, rarely getting fired up over whatever it is that the masses are clamoring to and ranting about (unless of course it’s football, which is another story). I’ve always been one to try new things and to offer up a good laugh by throwing in a one-liner here and there.  I may not be the type to wear my emotions on my sleeve, but I am man enough to cry when needed and will do my best to comfort family & friends in their time of need (and please don’t slug me if I try to make you laugh during the hard times).

That said, after having lost two children, my perspective on life has changed a bit.  Not in the sense that who I am has changed, but in the sense that my perspective on the timing of life has changed.

What I’ve always heard, but was just not very clear until now, is that we’re not promised today, let alone tomorrow.  I have dreams and goals. There are things that I want to do before my time on earth is through. Things that in my mind I have plenty of time to do before I go. But the truth be told, there’s a chance that I might not be here an hour from now.

All of that to say, my approach to life is to get out there and run with it while I still can.  If there’s something that I’m putting off until I reach a certain point, until I have a certain amount of money, until my children are a certain age, etc., then, God willing, I’m going to do my best to achieve those things sooner rather than later.

And recently that has started to be put into action.

I’ve been traveling more lately, even if the locales are not foreign to me.  Next on my list is to get a passport and find somewhere to go that we can afford (one of my sons wants to go to Mexico, so maybe that will be it).

And the biggest leap of faith that I’ve taken recently is signing a lease agreement for office space for my businesses.  To be completely honest, that scares me a bit given the nature of my business(es), and rightfully so.  And I may be just a little too laid back to recognize the enormity of that…luckily I have a better half to help me watch over that.  But I’m locked in to at least try it out for a year.  If it ends up looking like it’s not going to work out in the long run, so be it, but at least I tried and will have learned something from it.  But if it works out, I’ll be ecstatic.  As the saying goes, “it’s better to have tried and failed than to not have tried at all.”

It has been one year today since I posted anything at all to this blog and today I’ll begin to break the silence.

These past two years have been a conflict of emotions beyond belief.  On one hand things seem to be going pretty well and I should be a happy guy, but on the other hand things have been utter hell, and that’s putting it nicely.

To recap, On April 4th, 2008 we lost our son, Felix David Groce, stillborn with a suspected cord accident. To say that it hurt, and it still does, would be an understatement.  After a gloomy year that I’d rather not relive, and honestly wished it was all just a bad dream, things seemed to be getting better (you never “get over” the loss of a child, so throw that notion out of the window right now).  I felt like doing stuff again. I got some creativity back. Work was going well (and my clients were/are amazing). And we were pregnant again with child #5. Things were starting to look up.

Then in June 2009 we went in for the first ultrasound and got hit by a freight train.  Our fifth child, and fourth son, Gabriel Elliott Groce, was diagnosed with a “universally fatal” birth defect known as Limb-Body Wall Complex. Long story short, we opted to carry him to term and did everything in our power to save him. We prayed and prayed and prayed for a miracle, but that miracle never came and he was born on October 19th, 2009 and my beautiful son died in my arms half an hour later.

Within the span of 18 months we had lost and buried two children.  This just isn’t how it’s supposed to be. But this is how it is.  And one of the hardest parts of all is the fact that short of taking ourselves out of the gene pool, there isn’t a thing that could have been done to change these circumstances. This is the hand that we were dealt and the river had already been turned. The only viable option is to play it out and hope that somehow the pair of two’s we are holding comes out on top.

There are so many dynamics to this whole situation that I could write a book on them. (And I just might.) But for today this will have to suffice as I gather my thoughts.  The story will be told, so stay tuned.