Return

I haven't posted in months. I know. Because it wasn't important anymore. Since Emelia joined our lives, well, they have changed drastically. Not because of her, but in spite of her really. I don't have the energy for a long, long post tonight, but finally, I must write, no matter how long it takes.

This has been the hardest 6 months of my life. Adjusting to Emelia was fine, good, great even. She was a dream baby. Full-term, slept through the night by 6 weeks, smiling, very content, so happy. She was just wonderful. (Still is actually.) But about the time she was 6 weeks old, our lives were flipped upside down, and they just kept flipping. Andrew learned on June 26th that the station he worked for was closing. Like that day. Talk about no warning. He was offered 2 more months of work (with a bonus as incentive to stay those 2 months) as well as severance, insurance, and more for quite a while. And while we were thankful he had those two months when others only had the 1 day, we suddenly knew life WAS going to change. We had no choice in the matter.

Then, the end of July, just after my birthday, we were going camping for the weekend with Andrew's sister and her husband, and we were running late, as usual when we're going someplace for a few days, and I had to run to the grocery store for syrup because I had spaced that out before. I pulled onto the street, 4 lanes, 5 really, 2 going both ways with a turn lane in between. I moved into the middle lane and realized the car in the other lane had stopped for someone in the crosswalk, so I stopped too. And looked in my rearview mirror, just in time to see a car switch lanes and be behind me, and they weren't stopping. I was rear-ended. The jolt of the impact sent me forward way past the intersection. Thankfully the pedestrians were not in front of my car. Praise God. But I freaked. I pulled into a parking lot and desperately tried to find my phone as I got out of the car crying. Because Emelia was in the back seat. I was so scared. She was crying, because she was scared I assume, but she was fine. I was fine. There was a cop driving by that the other driver (a very elderly WWII vet) flagged down. I got ahold of Andrew and he came with Levi. Praise God Levi wasn't with me. He would have freaked too I'm sure.
Long story short? Our car was totaled, we spent several weeks with a tiny rental, trying desperately to find a new vehicle we could afford while dealing with the insurance and estimates and checks and new carseats and ugh. It was a nightmare to me. It could have been HUGELY worse. The other party's insurance covered everything, including x-rays and carseat and a new/used van, even giving us more than we had originally paid for our car. But it was stressful, and physically painful. And in the process our house was being reroofed by volunteers from the church. Off and on for weeks, almost months. My kids were being woken from naps by pounding and shaking. Men were outside my windows every day.
Oh, and Emelia started teething at 3 months old. By her 3month birthday she had 2 bottom teeth. CRAZY. She was so good, but fairly fussy and we didn't know why.
And then, Levi got sick. I mean like puking sick. Off and on so randomly. Then he was better. But it was by then the end of August and Andrew was done working. And he didn't have a new job. Now, he was getting severance, but we were both stressed. So we decided to go camping. Family time you know? Except Levi kept puking, and pooping, and feeling generally horrible. The day at the campsite was NOT fun. We finally packed up after one day and night and drove home at 10pm. Not good. Dr.'s visits and ER visits and he'd be fine for a week and then randomly puke again. It was awful. No answers other than a bad bug that just wasn't working it's way out fast enough. No tests showed anything wrong.
By this time it's September, and I was losing it. I mean really losing it. Like can hardly make dinner and get my children alive through the day. It was awful. I didn't recognize the depression at the time. Looking back it just seems like "huh, that wasn't fun" but at the time, it felt like our entire world was falling apart. And our marriage? Oh man, not good. This is where you don't get details, except to say it wasn't good.
So not good that I was at my wit's end. I didn't know what else to do, other than leave, but I knew that wasn't the answer. But it hurt so much to keep living my daily reality. I honestly was just tossing up which would hurt worse.
We had our home group from church one Thursday night, and some things happened that day and that evening that made me so upset with my husband. So much so that we came home and got our kids to bed and had it out. I mean OUT. I've never seen either one of us like that. But it was needed. Sort of a "Wow we both realizes this sucks and we're hurt and we're angry so what's going to happen?". Your move Bobby. (chess reference from my youth, don't ask me why) And I was honest, with myself, with my husband. And he called our pastor, and set up an appointment for the next day. I was so angry and sad still I could barely sleep or deal the next day. But we went, and got help. And are continueing to get help. God is picking us out of the miry clay.

Oh, and ironically, Andrew's truck died this fall too. The same week we ALL got the stomach flu, BAD. So new car again. Praise God for that bonus paycheck. New/Used vehicle shopping was getting old, but once again God guided us.

A friend asked me once this fall if sometimes I just felt like screaming. And the answer was "Yes, but what good would it do?" It almost felt like God was using a huge REDO card on us. Just wiping everything clean to start over. And frankly, maybe we needed it. I did sort of wonder if our house was going to burn down at some point though.

For the first time in a long time, I have hope for the future. Yes, I talked to my pastor and then saw my Dr. about my post-partum depression. I never thought that would be me, but between being post-partum and everything falling to pieces in our lives, I needed help. And it did help. It helped me sleep, something I don't think I had done well in months, and help me be excited about the day, about life. About living it.
But above all my hope is in God. He alone can bring us forth from the darkness.

And so we're here, December 8th, almost 9th actually. And I'm crying tears of overwhelming sadness. Because it hit me today. I missed it. The date in November, when I lost my baby. And I frankly don't even remember what the actual date is without looking. In some ways, this means I've healed. That I am and have moved past it. I don't think you ever "get over" it, but you can move past it. To where sorrow doesn't consume you.

But I'm crying, because I didn't mourn on that day. I forgot. And I'm angry I forgot. I never want to forget my babies. My 3 children who are with Jesus. Where there is no pain, no sorrow, and where there is no night.

And it's December, and this time of year always makes me cry. Ever since Levi was born. I remember those days, those days of waiting for his birth, and those incredibly lonely days after his birth. Of sitting in the NICU and just not wanting it to be real. To not want to be the Momma of a preemie, but to just pretend he would go home and we'd be fine. To hope against what would be the reality of several years of carefullness because he was so fragile, his lungs just not up to par. Even now when he coughs I cringe, waiting. The lonliness of that time can overwhelm me if I let it. The pure sleep-deprived willing myself to carry on emotions that threatened to overtake me. The memory of sobbing my eyes out in my car with my Dad because I didn't have the energy to drive myself back to the hospital by myself. It all comes rushing back and blindsides me when I'm not looking.

And so I sit here tonight crying. Remembering, and mourning again. Not wallowing, but letting myself return to those moments. With my newborn tiny son in the NICU. To that Saturday night after passing my baby, making my husband be the one to...To those days around Levi's 1st Birthday, loving and celebrating him, and mourning the baby we lost. Even to that June day when we lost 2 more babies. It all aches in me. And the ache spreads to the hurts in our marriage. The repair that is still being processed. The years of hurt and sorrow, and the years ahead of sheer work.

And then there was this song, "stumbled upon" as I started to write this post.


And God overwhelmed me. In a huge way. In these past 6 months, I have felt lost. From my God and my Savior. I've never questioned His sovereignty, I've even seen His blessings in my husband's life and changes and attitude. In the amazing way my sweet baby girl is so "Easy". In a new friend, a dear kindred spirit of a best friend who I never expected, but who has walked along with me as we go through our own valleys. And carried each other along the way at times. In providing us with the resources for 2 new/used vehicles. In so many things. In our son finally going several weeks without puking. But even while acknowledging God's blessings and sovereignty, I was still going "THIS HURTS GOD!!!" Screaming it, obviously. But He's still God, patiently waiting for me to realize my finite mind will never comprehend. Because if it could, if I could plan it, His Son would never have been sent to Earth. There had to be a better way right? But "oh, the glory of it all".

So I'm humbled, and this Christmas season I'm making progress. I'm ready to celebrate more than just a 3-year old's birthday, to celebrate more than just presents and a fun time with family and friends. I'm ready to let go. To let God heal my heart. To let God handle the whole picture. Because I just don't. And I'm sure I don't really want to.

Christmas isn't just the beginning of the story. It IS the story. Because as this song says
"Oh, the glory of it all
Is He came here
For the rescue of us all
That we may live
For the glory of it all"

There's the purpose in Christmas. The Babe who was Jesus was born, For the glory of it all. It would lead to the cross, and our redemption, but it was about Christmas too. The hope of the redemption to come.

So my heart needs to heal. I need to give forgiveness, and to beg for it. I need to mourn and remember, but to be thankful. Because there are lyrics in that song that get it so right:

"All is lost
Find Him there
Find Him there
After night
Dawn is there
Dawn is there
And after all
Falls apart
He repairs
He repairs"

I've been through so much night, but He was there. It's all fallen apart, many times over, but He repairs. And I'm so glad.

"Oh, everything will change
Things will never be the same
(We will never be the same)"

We will never be the same. Praise God. For the Glory of it all.

Fear Has No Place Here

I know, it's been a while. I find when I'm pregnant I'm not the most social and/or interactive person. Add to that an intentional effort to focus more on my husband and our friendship (yes, friendship, that is the building block for marriage I believe, believe it or not yourself) and I just haven't had that much to say.

But some events of the past few weeks and then specifically Monday have brought out some words.

Fear has reared it's ugly head in my heart/life once again. Fear that although I've carried this baby 27 weeks, that she isn't meant for this earth and won't grow up with us. I've been struggling and fighting this, and then today, I'm reminded that it doesn't necessarily "matter". Because God IS sovereign no matter what. Even if she's perfectly healthy and is born to us alive and well, that doesn't mean she'll grow old on this earth.

We received 3+ inches of snow on Monday. Wet, heavy, sticky snow. Long story short it led to several car crashes and 6 deaths in the immediate area. One of those deaths was a 13-year old girl driving with her mom. So heartbreaking. I couldn't help but cry for her mom. To be driving and live and your daughter, flesh of your flesh, not live. I pray for her today.

We have no guarantee of tomorrow. James 4 makes that pretty clear:
13 Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit”— 14 yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. 15 Instead you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.” 16 As it is, you boast in your arrogance. All such boasting is evil.

Just because I make it to 34 weeks pregnant, or even 36, doesn't mean this baby will be healthy. And if she is born healthy it doesn't mean she'll live to be 5, or 10, or 20. Only God knows the number of her days. Which is where I find peace. God knows. And has planned them. And they are perfect.

One of the other fatalities on Monday was that of a 26-year-old Newspaper gal in a town just less than 30 minutes south of us. I'm 26 years old. She was due with her and her husband's baby one week after my due date in May. She spun on the ice and her car was hit and she was killed. My heart aches to breaking for her husband.
I can only look at my husband and imagine if it was him. I sobbed this morning for this man named Paul. Will you please join me in praying for him? He's lost SO MUCH. His wife, His hope of a baby, just almost everything. Please pray if he doesn't know Jesus that this will send him running to our Savior. That's the only place he'll find true healing.

And so today, I don't know the future. I don't know if I'll wake up tomorrow to feel this baby kick, or if she'll live to be delivered. Or if either of us will live past any day in the future.

But I know this promise:

“There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.” 1 John 4:18 ESV

The context of this chapter points us even more to God.

11 Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. 12 No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God abides in us and his love is perfected in us.

13 By this we know that we abide in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Spirit. 14 And we have seen and testify that the Father has sent his Son to be the Savior of the world. 15 Whoever confesses that Jesus is the Son of God, God abides in him, and he in God. 16 So we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him. 17 By this is love perfected with us, so that we may have confidence for the day of judgment, because as he is so also are we in this world. 18 There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. 19 We love because he first loved us.

There is NO fear in loving God whole-heartedly. Only in Him is perfect love without fear. I can give myself and my family fully to Him knowing that NO MATTER WHAT, it is safe. Even if we all die, we are safe. God's love drives out the fear of the unknown. Because He knows, and it is perfect.

Let's all pray today for those who don't know or trust God's love and sovereignty perfectly. Because there, fear can exist. And fear is a horrible thing.

To My Baby Girl...

Dear Baby Girl,
You're making your presence more and more known everyday. Your flips and kicks have been there for a while, but lately I'm realizing just how big you're getting. My ribs have become your newest entertainment. Your Daddy has laughed when you literally make my stomache jump with your movements. Your actions seem much more distinct than your big brother's were. He just moved a lot. You move a lot and are very accurate with your kicks/punches. :) It hurts sometimes, but I wouldn't trade them for the world. I love knowing you're there.
Mommy's been feeling a bit anxious lately. You see, you've been in my belly for 24 weeks now, and to the medical world, that means you now have a 50% chance at viability if you were born today. It scares me. I want you to stay warm and cozy and growing for at least another 10 weeks. 12 would be amazing. But more than anything, I want you here safely no matter what. So if something were to go wrong at say 30 weeks, well, I'd rather you come at 28. Daddy & Mommy have been talking about what it means to trust God fully for your life. That He knows exactly the number of your days, both in my womb and out of it.
Psalm 139 says:
15 My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.

Jesus knows exactly what you look like kicking around in there. He knows the number of days you'll stay there, and Lord willing, the number of days you'll have on this earth learning and growing. But Mommy still gets scared.

Yesterday was the due date for your twins siblings that have already been given-over to Jesus. Mommy didn't know how to feel about it. I miss them like crazy. The pain of their loss still hurts at times. But yet, I have you. God knew about you when He took them home to Him. He knew that you would fill my belly and my heart.
Some people say to be thankful Jesus took them because if He hadn't, I wouldn't have you. But I think you and I both know it doesn't work that way. Jesus' plan is perfect no matter if I have you or not. I'm thankful Jesus took them because He's sovereign, I'm not. He knew the perfect plan. Isn't it amazing Baby Girl, that your siblings work on earth was done so quickly? Jesus knows all our days, and theirs were so few, but so complete. God had a great work for them, that continues to be at work, in my heart if no where else, but they were done.

But you Baby Girl, I pray daily that your work may take a little longer. :) That you are meant for this earth. For me to snuggle and love and teach and yes, discipline. I pray that the fighter spirit you've already shown will one day be used in a mighty way for Jesus. That the Holy Spirit would be in total control of your life and you would grow to be a mighty instrument for Him.

I pray that you are in fact, My Redemption Baby. Some people would call you a rainbow. I choose Redemption. I pray God will use you to redeem the tears and grief we've shed.

I love you Baby Girl. So much already. I'm so excited to meet you. Your life is so precious to me.

Love,
Mommy

Christmas Is A Time For...

Tears.
No worries, Baby Girl is fine.
But tears nonetheless. This amazing day has always brought me to tears, ever since I can remember. I remember standing outside on the farm on cold, snowy, starfilled nights as a small child just in awe and amazement of all God had done on Christmas. Even then, I grasped it. As much as we can.
And today? Today I heard a story on the radio, and a little boys voice who had just lost his baby calf, and he was encouraging all those who had lost ones they loved to remember all God gave us in Jesus, and that He had loved His son, but sent Him to die for us. He knows our pain and tears.
Tonight Levi and I were mixing up some cookies, and I couldn't help but cry. Because I remember. I remember a Christmas Eve 2 years ago, when Andrew and I finally had to kiss our tiny boy goodnight, and go find some food. We left a hospital and headed out into the festive streets just trying to find someplace that was open. We finally bought frozen pizza at the local Walgreens which was miraculously still open (I know, Chinese, duh, but it didn't occur to us in our sleep-deprived state). We took it back to the homey but not home guest house by the hospital and ate frozen pizza then watched a little Christmas TV and drug ourselves to bed. It was an amazing Christmas, being parents for the first time, but the hardest ever. I just remember feeling so ALONE. Wanting to have my baby safe and sound in my arms at home, not hooked up to monitors and all swaddled in plastic walls. No family near due to circumstances, just us, with our tiny boy, and lots of nurses.

And so I cried tonight, in pain for the loneliness I felt then, for the sorrow and emptiness I felt last year after losing our next baby, and for the simple hope I feel this year in our baby girl kicking in my womb. And I cry for all those who are shedding tears of sorrow during this joyous time.

Hear this: I am SO thankful for Christmas, and I love it. But the reality of the day and the sorrow that Christ was born for are so real to me. When I think of the loneliness I felt that Christmas, I can't help but think of Mary & Joseph, all those centuries ago. Mary, so very pregnant, ridiculed by her community, "knowing" glances following her, Joseph, taking on a stigma and title that didn't have to be his, traveling oh so far from home, all alone, and then in a cold, wet, stinky rock shelter giving birth to a blood covered and probably cold baby. A Baby born to die. They welcomed Him to the world all alone and probably terrified. But the Angel said "Peace, Be Still" not just to the shepherds, but to their hearts. They had a trust in God so big. They probably didn't know what the future would bring, that their baby would one day die a cruel death for my sins, and all those who would trust Him. But they trusted, and prayed.

So tonight, as I shed tears for our hurt, and for yours, and with gratefullness for the Babe who came to die, to be rejected by man, I pray healing for your heart. I pray that you will recognize that Christmas is only the beginning of the story. Jesus came, we are so thankful for that beauty, but He came to die, and to rise again, to defeat death, so that when we shed tears of sorrow for those we have lost, and for the pain, that there would be hope.

If something happens to Levi tomorrow, if he is gone, I have hope. I have hope in a God who didn't stay a Babe, but defeated the grave. I have 3 babies I will see again someday thanks to Jesus. I can shed tears of sadness, but I can have hope.

I love you Jesus. Happy Birthday. Tell my Babies I love them.

Joy & Grief

I was reading over my last two posts and realizing I don't sound very joyful. Don't get me wrong, I am. I am SO excited for this baby. But I am also apprehensive. There are days that are so hard to not just live in fear. Because once you've lost your babies, it's hard to believe that this one is for real. And now we're depressing again...sorry. I think the best way to describe it is that once the "untouchable" things in your life have been touched, and destroyed for lack of a better word, that suddenly your life seems so fragile. I'm searching for the right description here. Maybe this story can help it make a little more sense.

Sometimes a date can sneak up on you. I was getting ready for church a few weeks ago when the fact that it was November 6th hit me like a ton of bricks. I really didn't think it would bother me. But it did. It has been a year since our second baby was given over. Way too early. We already knew the baby had died, but somehow, this day was what was significant. So I cried. I was shocked that the date hit me so hard. Here I was like 12 weeks pregnant and rejoicing in our latest baby's life, and yet sobbing uncontrollably for a baby lost a year ago. Because this Babe growing strong in my womb DOES NOT replace our other 3 children. Some people who have lost babies and then gotten pregnant again fairly quickly have said that they can't mourn their miscarriage because without it they wouldn't have the child they have. I get that, but can't I wish for both? And since it's been more than a year since our first given over baby, that doesn't apply. I physically ache at times for that baby. I want to know them, to know their personality and to kiss their tiny heads and to snuggle them close. I MISS THEM. I never knew them, but I miss them. No matter the good news, that God is sovereign, that my babies know no more pain, that they are in the presence of the Savior, I MISS THEM. Do I wish for them to be here with me? Yes and no. Yes for my sake, no for theirs. But no matter what, I miss them. And that's okay. I no longer have intense anger, but I'm still sad at times. Like that day. When it just hit me. So I cried, not just for who I had lost, but for the pain that had been experienced, both physically and emotionally. And this song I'll post, suddenly made more sense to me than it ever has, even right after we lost the babies.



The lyrics that get to me are these:
"This hand is bitterness. We want to taste it and let the hatred numb our sorrows. The wise hand opens slowly to lilies of the valley and tomorrow.
If hope is born of suffering, if this is only the beginning, can we not wait, for what our, watching for our Savior?
This is what it means to be held, how it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life, and you survive. This is what it is to be loved, and to know that the promise was, when everything fell, we'd be held."

I never understood the intense questioning that goes on in this song before. I never understood the intense feelings of anger, bitterness, and acceptance all at once. The "okayness" of questioning God but still asking to be held. And now I do.
You survive, but there are days when you feel and know life will never be the same. Because the sacred HAS been torn from your life. So I don't feel guilty for being apprehensive about this baby. I SO rejoice in it's life and can't wait to meet Baby. But there's always that nagging "what if I don't get to" feeling in the back of my heart. What if I don't get to meet this baby on this earth? So not shouting it from the rooftops helps soften the fear and potential hurt. But I love this Baby. Oh so much. The days between Dr.'s appts can't go fast enough. I can't wait to see Baby's little hands and fingers and wiggles and yawns again. I want to KNOW this Baby.

So the joy is there, and coming more everyday. The intense celebration? I may save that for the delivery date.

The Story - Blessings

As Promised, a good post for today. This is what we shared with our church family this morning. After several months, we needed to share. It's a long read but one I believe is worth it. I hope it blesses you and encourages to let God work in your life.


Do you know what a Great God we serve? That our God is full of grace, overflowing with mercy? We want to share a bit of that grace and mercy at work with you.

I think almost all of you know the general story surrounding Levi's birth. It was not a totally routine pregnancy, and the last 9 weeks were anything but typical, resulting in his early and miraculous arrival at almost 34 weeks.

I think many of you may know we found out last September that we were again expecting. Considering all the prayers surrounding Levi’s existence, this seemed to be a total miracle from the Lord. Then at less than 8 weeks our baby’s heart stopped beating and we learned it was gone. I won’t go into details except to say this was very hard for us and I struggled for several months just to maintain “normal” and not sink into depression. God was merciful AND gracious and taught me so much through that time. And the Lord and my husband were both so very patient with me.

We were told not to let this miscarriage keep us from having more kids and we purposed to do so. I learned to just pray for hope. After such a battle of accepting God’s will, I just prayed that He would give us some hope to go on. Not just hope to have another child, but hope to conceive again, hope to get through each day.

On May 7th we again learned we were expecting. I immediately saw my Doctor for confirmation and continued to do so every week to make sure everything was going well. We heard the heartbeat several times and could even make it out beating on the screen. On June 10th we celebrated 5 years of married life. It seemed so right to celebrate and was a much needed time.

And in my heart I prayed and prayed. Not just for this baby to live, but for God to prepare me for whatever He had. That no matter what happened with this pregnancy, that He would be glorified, and that I would be totally submitted. Not just to the good in life, but to His Will.

On June 20th we went in for our weekly checkup. This time, the baby did not have a heartbeat. Closer examination proved that there was indeed no heartbeat. But there was also a surprise. There was not 1, but 2 tiny, miniscule babies on the screen. But neither one had a heartbeat. After so many more prayers, we were facing more death and loss. The doctor, I think simply instinctively, called our babies “products of conception” when describing the next steps. I immediately corrected her. They were babies. I know the medical terminology says embryos then fetuses, but we firmly believe they were alive and had life. That from the moment of conception our children had souls and were eternal beings. But it was true that they were gone, and the next day we said good-bye to our little miracles.

I have cried, I have grieved for sure. But here’s the thing, I didn’t feel the despair of the first time. Not just because we’ve been here done that, but because God has answered my original prayer. I had prayed for hope; hope that we would have more children. And what did He do? He gave us 2 little babies. No, they didn’t live. But that doesn’t have to lead to hopelessness. Because I did and do have hope. I choose this time, instead of despair, to immediately give my grief to God. I still feel anger, rage even, but I immediately turn it over to the one who can handle it. I choose to firmly believe in my heart that God’s plan was perfect. Because that is the truth in all of this; that God knows exactly what our family is supposed to look like. These babies were not His perfect plan for us on this earth. But it was His perfect plan for them to be conceived. These losses were not mistakes.

This did not mean that we don’t grieve. I still cry. I still weep at certain songs. I could go on and on and share so much of my heart, but what I really want to share is this. All Glory Be To Our God. The night we learned of our babies’ death, I didn’t sleep much. I cried, I prayed when I could find the words, but most of all, I leaned wholeheartedly on the Lord. God hasn’t walked with us through this, He has carried us. Psalm 34:15 says “the Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” Like I said, I have grieved, I am brokenhearted. But I am NOT inconsolable. The first baby we “gave over” to the Lord (I Samuel 1:27-28) it was such a comfort to me to know our child was in Heaven and experiencing no pain. A dear lady shared with me this picture. Here on earth we pray so hard that we will be able to introduce our children to Jesus. But someday, my child (children) will get to introduce me to Jesus. That is an amazing balm to my heart. God knows. This time, I was so comforted already that our babies were safe, that I almost didn’t dwell on that. They were fine, they didn’t need me anymore. Instead, we talked a lot and asked ourselves, “What does God want to do with this?” Basically, what is He trying to accomplish in us and others through this? And will we let Him? I remember in one late night talk with Andrew saying “I don’t want to waste this.” God is doing something in our lives and I don’t want to waste this opportunity. So when I say All Glory Be To Our God, I mean that.

I don’t want to waste this grief, this pain on myself. It’s taken me a while to be willing to be open enough to share about this. We didn’t get to share the joy of the coming babies with many people, and we didn’t immediately share the grief. But we do want to do what I said, not waste this. If we can’t share our grief, and what God is doing, then why go through it? Yes, there are personal struggles, but if I truly believe in the body of Christ, both in this congregation, and in the world, and I believe that we are knit together in Christ, then I will share both my joys and my heartaches.

And so, here is our heartache. We don’t know where we’re going from here. But we do know this, God does. We have not been promised an easy life. The idea that once we trust Christ all will be rosy and ok is a lie from the devil. We will have burdens and sorrows. Christ said in Matthew 11: “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." The thing is, we do have a yoke and even burdens at times, but with Christ, it will be right. Faith doesn’t make it hurt less, it’s still painful. But faith makes it worth it.

Another thing we’ve learned is to not compare trials. What we’re experiencing isn’t necessarily worse or easier than your life. It’s just ours. I have a friends who lost babies full-term and friends who are waiting to bring their children home. Is their suffering any harder? I’m not sure, because it’s theirs.
God has a different story for each of us, and I just pray that we will be faithful to what He is doing and that we will not waste any of it. Real faith isn’t just asking for something different, it’s submitting to what God has, and embracing it.

Philippians 1:6 says this “And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” We may not see the completion on this earth, but someday, we will be totally complete in Christ. And I firmly cling to this promise in Psalm 63:8 "My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me." God will not fail.
Isaiah 40:25-31
25 To whom then will you compare me,
that I should be like him? says the Holy One.
26Lift up your eyes on high and see:
who created these?
He who brings out their host by number,
calling them all by name,
by the greatness of his might,
and because he is strong in power
not one is missing.
27Why do you say, O Jacob,
and speak, O Israel,
"My way is hidden from the LORD,
and my right is disregarded by my God"?
28 Have you not known? Have you not heard?
The LORD is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
his understanding is unsearchable.
29He gives power to the faint,
and to him who has no might he increases strength.
30Even youths shall faint and be weary,
and young men shall fall exhausted;
31but they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength;
they shall mount up with wings like eagles;
they shall run and not be weary;
they shall walk and not faint.”

Most people focus on verse 31 in this passage. I cling to verse 28 and who God is. Because without that, the verses that follow hold no meaning or hope. God does not faint, does not grow weary, and His understanding, His ways, they are unsearchable. God is at the center, not us, not even what is happening to us by Him, it’s not about us, it’s about HIM.

I want to share a song that I heard when I was still pregnant with these babies, and then when we lost them it became a lifeline to my heart. I sang it over and over to myself that first night. I pray that you will see the truth in it and embrace whatever God is trying to do in you today.



And so that's the story. I managed to make it through talking without crying, not so with the song. Because God knows. We appreciate your prayers. We're more than willing to talk about this, if it's a rough day, we'll just tell you so.

Mercies in Disguise...and Apology

If any of you are still reading my blog, thank you. :) I have some more of my heart to bare with you, so thank you for sticking it out. It's been a long road. You've read as I've walked through the valley, and at times, am still. You've listened to my grief and my pain. My joy, my reflections, and my simple stories about my little boy. Those may be my favorite. I've been doing a lot of reflecting lately, and I've come to realize some things.

I went through some normal grief and some not so normal anger and despair. Maybe it is normal. What I do know though, is it wasn't right. Grief is right, God tells us to grieve. But my long anger and longing were not. I will say this, God can handle my anger and sadness. I've talked about all this before, so I'll skip to the point.

3 days from now would be my due date. In reality, if this baby had lived, we'd probably already have delivered, a long time ago. I've spent time in the last 8 months going "I'd be this far along" "I'd be feeling the baby" "I'd be in maternity clothes" etc...
This was not right. By my longing for what I didn't have, and what wasn't to be, I was effectively telling God "YOU SCREWED UP!" And He didn't. That baby was not God's perfect plan for us. No matter what, the miscarriage and loss of our child was God's perfect plan. I was not willing to submit to that, even months later. I wanted to believe it, I wanted to say it, but by my longings I was denying it's truth. And so, my pride in myself that what I wanted was best was sin.

So I ask for your forgiveness, those of you who have walked with me and read about it all. Or even just you who are joinging now. I was wrong. Never ever mistake that I think grief is sin. I don't. Grief is needed. But my pride in what I wanted and refusal to see God as working out His perfect plan was sin. I now repent and ask your forgiveness if I have at all portrayed God as less than who He is. Please forgive me for my lack of trust and faith.

I still struggle. But I pray I will continue to humble myself and proclaim that God has the perfect plan. That He is perfect and has never given me more than He can help me handle. There are many hard days to come. I will fall and stumble over and over I'm sure. There are still days I cry over our loss. Or fear worse for our family. But God is faithful. And maybe, almost definitely, these are His mercies in disguise.

The Rain...

You may have noticed I once again changed the background to my blog. It's sort of a frequent thing for me. Especially now that blogger has more options. Some people could care less what their background is, not me. To me, it's very, very important. It's symbolic. It should reach out to you. Make you think. Make you feel.

For a while now it's been a black background with warm sparks of light. Because it was the best I could choose in mourning. I decided Friday I needed to change it. I searched and searched and searched. I even attempted to pull a photo of Italian scenary from the internet. And then some train tracks going off in the distance. I was searching for insightful. Dreamful. Some hope or vague thought I had. I couldn't master the internet, so I finally found and chose this one that blogger provided. I liked it, for rain fits my mood lately, but not the mountains, because I don't see mountains out my window. Well, it would have to do.

And then tonight....

I read a blog that's named "Bring the Rain" (www.audreycaroline.blogspot.com) It's also a song by Mercy Me, I'll link later. And I am struck by why God allowed me to choose this background. And I think I'll be keeping it for a while.

I need to be honest with you.

I've been angry. There were days in January especially when I was so overwhelmed with grief and anger and emotions I couldn't handle. I brought them to God. I hid from Him. I didn't know how to handle it, so I just struggled through the mud and murk. I've cried out to God and begged for healing. Begged for help and just anything. I've raged and prayed. I've learned God can handle my emotions, no matter what they are. I was afraid to be angry, I was afraid to say "this isn't fair". Because that would be doubting the sovereignty of God. Which I don't. But yet I wanted to. Because I wanted my baby, and He decided this would bring Him more glory. But I've learned that God already knows my heart, so why should I pretend anything else? So I come to Him, broken and angry and weary. I plead with Him to let me release my anger and to heal. Because I can't. I'm not strong enough. But He is. I won't say I've had a revelation, but I will say this. I'm prideful. I've been all about me. And it's not. It's about Him.

And here's the thing, no matter how dark the day, how deep the pain, how great the anger, it never crossed my mind that God was NOT faithful. To give up on Him. That He wasn't much greater than my pain. That He wasn't the same yesterday, today, and forever. That He would leave. That He was mad at me for hurting.

So here's the summary. I'm still getting there. I think and know there were ways and certain things I could have handled and reacted to much better in this journey. But that's okay. God is faithful. He knew how this path and journey would look. And I'm learning and growing. It's His journey. It's my journey to Him.

I love Jesus. I want Him to be glorified in my life. I don't really want or desire to experience more pain, but I believe I can finally say:


"And I know there'll be days
When this life brings me pain
But if that's what it takes to praise You
Jesus, bring the rain"



I can't promise that will be my heartcry everyday. If there are more given over babies ahead for us, I will cry and hurt. But I pray I will praise Him. And say "Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord God Almighty"

And we will try and hope and pray. Because God has not forsaken us. So Bring the Rain...

With Hope?

I love that this YouTube video doesn't show the lyrics or other pictures. Because we probably all have our own visual.

For Me? My tiny baby safe in Heaven with my Savior. Who else could I ask for to watch over my little one?

But I do continue to cry "With Hope". Because grief is a process, one that I get the feeling is not complete until I die or Christ's new Kingdom has come. The first few lines of this song are so true. Even though I never got ot meet my baby, I had so many plans and hopes for the future. This was our second miracle baby. Levi was a miracle that he was conceived and that he lived. This baby was a miracle to be conceived. We were shocked, our little surprise. So why would God take that joy and miracle away? I think when I first wrote about the fact there was no heartbeat I said we wouldn't ask why. Well I was wrong. But I'm no longer asking why but simply grieving. I'm crying and missing my baby.

I was given a great book this week. "I will hold you in Heaven" Rememberance Book. And it has been a balm for my soul. At the same time it has opened up the wounds. Because in the joy and thankfullness of remembering Levi's birth and enjoying Christmas at home, I pushed aside my grief. I didn't have room to be grieving over two things. And so when I picked up this book, the wounds were opened and the tears shed. Because it validated everything I was feeling. That it was okay to hurt even though I had so few weeks of hoping for my baby. That my child is an eternal soul and it's okay to grieve.

Our culture as a whole belittles life. Any life, all life. But especially the unborn. Just another lie of the devil I suppose. So when you talk to a woman who's lost a child (and you will, we are many) remember that she desperately needs you to understand the value of what she's lost. A child. A human life that she was supposed to hold.

So I'm grieving. But I am healing too. It just doesn't look like I thought it would. But that's okay. Grief isn't pretty, it can be ugly. But it can also be beautiful. Because Beauty comes from ashes. God promises that.
Isaiah 61:3
To console those who mourn in Zion,
To give them beauty for ashes,
The oil of joy for mourning,
The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;
That they may be called trees of righteousness,
The planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified.”

So while I cry with hope, I also trust that Beauty is coming. It already is. But I must also mourn. So it's a process, one that the depths of my soul is involved in. And hardly anyone is allowed access there. So I'll keep blogging, but it may be slow as evidenced recently. The heaviness is there, but someday, there will be beauty.

Denial

I have one ultrasound picture of our Given Over Baby. It's in my hard case wallet where I stowed it when we left the clinic the day we got it. Normally I carry ultrasounds around for a while so I can show people.

Now?

Now I can't bare to take it out of my wallet.

What if I lose it?

Neither can I bare to see it.

My solution?

Quit using that wallet. So I have. I emptied it of all the necessities and stowed it away.

I guess some things still leave me gasping for enough air to make it through each moment.

So it'll wait, for an easier time. If there is one.