I have carried you for nine long months. This morning when I woke up it was the first morning in nine months I didn't have to get up by my alarm to take medicine at the right time, the first time in nine months I didn't have to give myself a shot this morning, the first time in nine months I just laid in bed with nothing I needed to jump up to do to keep you safe inside me. I just laid there feeling you wiggle around, until I heard "Mommy, Come get me!" coming from your big sister's room :) Yes, I have carried you for nine months. I can remember when we weren't sure I would even carry you long enough for your heart to start beating, when we weren't sure I would carry you past 16 weeks, when our goal was just for me to carry you to 24 weeks when you would be viable outside of me. I remember being so surprised when I started feeling you move at just 16 weeks and how strong and frequent your kicks were that early. I remember finding out you were a girl and the joy it brought my heart (I secretly hoped you would be a girl). I remember surprising your Mimi and Papa with a cake that told them you were a girl and how happy they were. I remember all the many ultra sounds that showed you were growing, developing, thriving and doing well. So many anxious days, so many sleepless nights, so much fear that I would lose you, so many desperate moments of checking to make sure your heart was still beating, so many needle pokes and bruises on my tummy, so many band-aids stuck to my tummy after a needle stick, as if they were a physical announcement that this tummy is broken and doesn't work so well when it comes to carrying babies. Moments of joy, moments of sadness, moments of sheer hope and faith. It's been quite a ride baby girl and it's almost over. This is our last day to be connected to one another, your last day inside of me. So bittersweet. I won't miss many aspects of this pregnancy, but as hard as it has been, I will miss carrying you, your kicks, your rolls, a tummy big and round from blossoming life, the reality that against all odds I have a little miracle inside of me. I will miss this part my dear one. Very much.
It is still unreal to me that tomorrow I will hold you in my arms. Tomorrow the hope and faith of you will become reality. I don't know how I will feel when I see you...relieved, completely smitten as I was the first time I saw your sister, scared or just numb. That is my biggest fear. That I will feel numb from the overwhelming emotion of the last nine months and especially the last week. I want feelings that live up to the heartache we have endured to have you. I don't want it all to have been for nothing, I want joy and overwhelming love at the sight of you sweet girl and I fear I may not be able to feel those things because of recent circumstances. Maybe I just still can't believe you are real. I feel you. I know you are in there but my heart has been hurt for so long, perhaps I have forgotten how to feel pure joy. Perhaps you will remind me. That is my hope.
This is the last day that I will carry you. I will never again carry a child but because of you amazing baby I will end my child bearing days with sweet victory over this struggle. Tomorrow I will see you. I will know you. We will start our life together. I can't wait to hold you, kiss you, feed you, rock you, sing to you, tickle you, see you laugh and smile, watch you grow up, walk, talk, play and grow into the amazing little girl God has destined for you to be. I can't wait for Christmas mornings, notes in your lunch box, Halloween costumes, first days of school, late night cuddles when you are afraid, Saturday morning pancakes and cartoons, Friday night movies and popcorn, vacations on the beach, I can't wait for life with you. You are life. You come to us when we need you most. You are our sunshine amidst the storm. You are proof that God gives just what we need, just when we need it. You are love. You are a fighter. You are our girl and a special angel watches down from heaven as you come to us tomorrow. I can see her smile, see her tears of joy. I can hear her voice and feel her hug me at the sight of you. I can see her holding you, gazing with a look of pure love. She would literally rather have died than for you to not have made it here. She prayed for you and God answered her prayer, my prayer, so many prayers. This is the last day I will carry you. But tomorrow is the first day of your LIFE. Enjoy this gift that has been given to you, the gift of life. Enjoy it, treasure it and honor God with it. Be happy. That's what she would want and that's what I want. There is no pressure to live up to the standards of a miracle baby. You don't have to do anything but just be you and be happy. And though this is the last day I will carry you inside me, tomorrow starts a life time of me carrying you in my arms, carrying you through trials, carrying you in my heart the way only a mother can. I will carry you forever and I will love you always and forever and no matter what.
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Emotional Pregnant Lady - Party of One
We sit in church this morning and I sob so hard that the girl (who I don't know) sitting in front of us hands me a package of tissues. A very sweet gesture and I gladly accepted one, but it was embarrassing none the less. What prompted my 50th sob fest of the week...one of our Deacon's prayers during service for my mother in law. I listen as he updates the church that Vickie is in her final days and will be going to heaven soon. I think about my baby who is coming soon. He starts to pray. It hits me just the right way and the water works turn on. This has been my life the past week, especially since my last doctors appointment. Baby girl passed her bio with flying colors. She's measuring great, 6 lbs 5 oz, not too big, not too small. I then sit and wait to see my doctor. When she comes in she asks how I am doing. She can tell just by looking at me how tired I am and then I go on to describe this pain I have been having in my stomach and how uncomfortable it has been (just muscles being stretched) . So she says, "How do you feel about being induced?" "Yes please. Today please." I answer. She says we can't do it yet but when I am 38 weeks we can. I feel bad. Is it awful to induce a baby early if you have no good medical reason? What if she's not ready? My doctor's answer is spot on...."After everything you have been through, why not? No point in taking any chances. She's ready. You're ready. Let's just do it". October 23rd is the date she gives us. Jason pulls out his phone and checks his calendar, "That day is good for me. I don't have much going on." I can't help but sigh and laugh a little...and gently remind him that even if he did have something going on he would cancel it...men :)
I feel relieved that our baby will be here in just 10 short days. I even feel excited and happy. But sadly, those positive feelings are hidden beneath a mountain of more powerful negative ones. I worry that induction is not the right decision since we really don't have a good medical reason, I worry that she might not be ready and she will have complications after delivery, I worry about the effects pitocin could have on her. I worry that I am taking this out of God's hands and putting it in my own. I worry that Vickie will pass and Jason will miss our daughter's birth or I will be sitting in the hospital alone with my new baby while I miss her funeral. This is why I have been the most emotional pregnant lady ever. The smallest things set me off. I cry for no reason. I think I am going crazy. I try to talk to people about it but no one really gets it. "Oh you are just hormonal and at the end. Everyone feels this way at the end." and then they go on talking about something else. But no, everyone does not feel exactly this way at the end. I thank God for a therapist who has to listen to me (because I am paying her to :) and a husband who doesn't have to but does because he loves me. My therapist asks me how I cope with such overwhelming stress. I tell her I cry, I sleep and I shop...usually in that order. She says that is actually a pretty good way to cope and I should keep crying, sleeping and shopping to my heart's content until my baby is born. So I guess that's the plan for the next 10 days.
You may wonder why I agreed to be induced if I am so worried about it. The answer is because I am just as worried about not being induced. I do have gestational diabetes which is one good reason to induce early. If I have her earlier Vickie may get to see her before she passes, another good reason for her to come a little early. Really, I will worry no matter what plan of action we take. But the thought of just waiting on one more unknown to happen all the way into 40 weeks is so daunting to me right now that I just can't help but want to be induced, even if it does scare me. So this is it, the day I long thought would never come is fast approaching. It terrifies me and excites me and elicits a full range of emotions all at once. I am a ticking time bomb, just waiting for the tears to explode at any time. But since I have professional approval from my therapist to cry as much as I want, that is what I will do. I will cry this baby into my arms for 10 more days. And I will keep sending up prayers that maybe I won't have to be induced or wait until 40 weeks...maybe, just maybe, she will decide to come early all on her own. That is my prayer.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
P.S. In case you are wondering from my last post, I did finally get my new medicine, preservative free. I started it about 5 days late and it was quite the ordeal learning how to use the weird contraption of a needle and needle dispenser. The nurses couldn't even figure out how it worked. In the end it was Jason who just grabbed it form the nurse, put the thing together in about 1 minute and said "There, that's how it works. I will help you do it for the first time tomorrow. Let's go." (To anyone who knows Jason's father, does he remind you of someone??) I guess 3 1/2 hours in the OB's office was enough for him. So I am on my new medicine and though it still does not guarantee I will be able to have an epidural, my chances are much greater now :)
I feel relieved that our baby will be here in just 10 short days. I even feel excited and happy. But sadly, those positive feelings are hidden beneath a mountain of more powerful negative ones. I worry that induction is not the right decision since we really don't have a good medical reason, I worry that she might not be ready and she will have complications after delivery, I worry about the effects pitocin could have on her. I worry that I am taking this out of God's hands and putting it in my own. I worry that Vickie will pass and Jason will miss our daughter's birth or I will be sitting in the hospital alone with my new baby while I miss her funeral. This is why I have been the most emotional pregnant lady ever. The smallest things set me off. I cry for no reason. I think I am going crazy. I try to talk to people about it but no one really gets it. "Oh you are just hormonal and at the end. Everyone feels this way at the end." and then they go on talking about something else. But no, everyone does not feel exactly this way at the end. I thank God for a therapist who has to listen to me (because I am paying her to :) and a husband who doesn't have to but does because he loves me. My therapist asks me how I cope with such overwhelming stress. I tell her I cry, I sleep and I shop...usually in that order. She says that is actually a pretty good way to cope and I should keep crying, sleeping and shopping to my heart's content until my baby is born. So I guess that's the plan for the next 10 days.
You may wonder why I agreed to be induced if I am so worried about it. The answer is because I am just as worried about not being induced. I do have gestational diabetes which is one good reason to induce early. If I have her earlier Vickie may get to see her before she passes, another good reason for her to come a little early. Really, I will worry no matter what plan of action we take. But the thought of just waiting on one more unknown to happen all the way into 40 weeks is so daunting to me right now that I just can't help but want to be induced, even if it does scare me. So this is it, the day I long thought would never come is fast approaching. It terrifies me and excites me and elicits a full range of emotions all at once. I am a ticking time bomb, just waiting for the tears to explode at any time. But since I have professional approval from my therapist to cry as much as I want, that is what I will do. I will cry this baby into my arms for 10 more days. And I will keep sending up prayers that maybe I won't have to be induced or wait until 40 weeks...maybe, just maybe, she will decide to come early all on her own. That is my prayer.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
P.S. In case you are wondering from my last post, I did finally get my new medicine, preservative free. I started it about 5 days late and it was quite the ordeal learning how to use the weird contraption of a needle and needle dispenser. The nurses couldn't even figure out how it worked. In the end it was Jason who just grabbed it form the nurse, put the thing together in about 1 minute and said "There, that's how it works. I will help you do it for the first time tomorrow. Let's go." (To anyone who knows Jason's father, does he remind you of someone??) I guess 3 1/2 hours in the OB's office was enough for him. So I am on my new medicine and though it still does not guarantee I will be able to have an epidural, my chances are much greater now :)
Monday, October 7, 2013
Beautiful Prayers
I sit here in my bedroom, fighting back tears. Riley is down stairs watching TV, too much TV, but it is all I can do right now. Just let her watch TV. I am overwhelmed and angry. I have to switch one of my medications this week, 36 weeks, because it is not safe to take it and have an epidural. It could cause paralysis if I did. So I am supposed to switch to one that is safe to take with an epidural. I have to search and try five pharmacies before I can find one who has it and when I finally do the medication comes in multi dose vials that I have to draw myself, rather than the pre-filled single dose syringes I have been using with my old medicine. I ask the pharmacist if these vials have preservatives in them as I know they usually do. He says he will check and call me. Sure enough, he calls me back later and tells me it does have a preservative that is not recommended in pregnancy. I research it and the FDA clearly states pregnant women should not take this preservative. I am so mad. I have to check, check and check again all the time or doctors and pharmacists will just give you this stuff without a second thought. So I refuse to take the medicine and have a call into my doc to get a script for the preservative free form of the medicine. This could take days. I will keep taking my old medicine until then. If I go into labor in the mean time then no epidural for me, which actually seems like a pretty good idea right now. Anything that poses a risk of paralysis to me and harm to my baby is just not worth the pain relief. I have been through enough pain just getting to this point. I'm sure I can handle labor and delivery without pain meds. All this just makes me feel anxious. I don't want to have to take all these meds and worry about them hurting my baby or paralyzing me...can't I Just have the baby now??!! Babies born at 36 weeks do quite well I am told.
My mother in law is in her final days the hospice nurses tell us. 7-10 days is what they expect. A baby, a birth, a new life. A death, a good bye, an ending. All at once. It is so much. It overwhelms me. I fear every day that I am going to lose my baby. This past week has actually been harder than the last several months. I am so far. I can't lose her now. The stakes are so high and so the fear is much worse. I just want her here safe and healthy...now. And I don't want to take any more medicine that could hurt my baby but "the benefits outweigh the risks". Great, that is a lovely place for a mother to be in...this medicine could hurt your baby. Yet, if you don't take it, you could lose your baby all together.
I think of the lyrics to Amy Grant's "Better Than a Hallelujah":
My mother in law is in her final days the hospice nurses tell us. 7-10 days is what they expect. A baby, a birth, a new life. A death, a good bye, an ending. All at once. It is so much. It overwhelms me. I fear every day that I am going to lose my baby. This past week has actually been harder than the last several months. I am so far. I can't lose her now. The stakes are so high and so the fear is much worse. I just want her here safe and healthy...now. And I don't want to take any more medicine that could hurt my baby but "the benefits outweigh the risks". Great, that is a lovely place for a mother to be in...this medicine could hurt your baby. Yet, if you don't take it, you could lose your baby all together.
I think of the lyrics to Amy Grant's "Better Than a Hallelujah":
God loves a lullaby
In a mother's tears in the dead of night
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes
In a mother's tears in the dead of night
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes
God loves the drunkard's cry
The soldier's plea not to let him die
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes
The soldier's plea not to let him die
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes
The woman holding on for life
The dying man giving up the fight
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes
The dying man giving up the fight
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes
The tears of shame for what's been done
The silence when the words won't come
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes
The silence when the words won't come
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes
We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes
This describes my prayers for the past five years, but especially lately, not so much words formulated into sentences and requests put before God. But more desperate pleas, cries in the middle of the night (or afternoon while your child is watching too much TV). Prayers come in the form of exhausted sighs, feelings that have no words to describe them, broken prayers that Jesus takes to God and makes perfect on my behalf. I hope God really does love those kinds of prayers better than a hallelujah sometimes because He has been getting a lot of them from me. What do you pray for when your husband's mother is suffering and has no quality of life...a miracle or mercy that takes her swiftly? What do you pray for when your choice is to take a drug that may hurt your baby but if you don't you could lose your baby? How do you ask God over and over and over to please bring your baby safely into your arms without starting to feel like a broken record? I suppose you don't. And your prayers become formed out of "the beautiful mess we are and the honest cries of breaking hearts". Thank you God, that you can turn my mess into a beautiful prayer.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Being Carried in the Weakness
Riley and I have a new favorite song, "Carry Me" by Josh Wilson. I love it because it is about God carrying us through trying times, times filled with an unclear future and anxiety. Riley loves it because it's catchy, because she likes to be carried, because I sing along so passionately as we drive along in the car and she gets a kick out of mommy's singing, or perhaps for a deeper reason...I don't know, but she requests it all the time and I am happy to oblige her...it is a song that is good for both of us right now. All that I write in this particular post is not from my own mind. I am paraphrasing some of it from our minister, Curt Spark's sermon this morning, but it just goes so perfectly with a truth I have been struck with lately that I had to share. I just love it when God takes my own life experiences and truths He is revealing to me and then reaffirms them with a Sunday morning sermon, as if to put a final explanation point at the end of the lesson.
"My grace is sufficient for you. For my strength is made perfect in weakness" 2 Corinthians 12:9. I have heard many people say of a trying time in their lives, "I didn't know how strong I was until (insert trying circumstance) happened." I have found that to be absolutely not true for me. The truth is I didn't know how weak I was until I lost 6 children to miscarriage. I didn't know how badly my heart could hurt. I didn't know I could be the type of person who would struggle to get out of bed, or cry for the better part of my day, or withdraw from my family and friends. I know it is not popular in our culture of self sufficiency where depending on someone else is viewed as weak, but the truth is I was weak and I was depending on someone else to carry me through. No, I didn't know how weak I could be...but what I learned was how strong God could be. I didn't know that in my weakness and suffering the perfect platform for God's strength was being created. If I have shown any strength at all throughout this whole ordeal, it was not my own, but God's shining through me. El-Shaddai is a name for God meaning "strong", "powerful" and at the sane time also "comforting", "nourishing" and "providing fruitfulness". I have come to intimately know God by this name. He is certainly El-Shaddai to me. When there was no way, by His strength and power He provided a way. When we thought life could never be produced between Jason and I again, He made us fruitful and created life out of the two of us. When this world told us it was impossible, God made it possible. If that isn't strength and power then I don't know what is. And when I needed to be carried, during the long, sleepless nights of worry and anxiety, during the moments of uncertain futures and crushed dreams, during the times when my arms ached for babies I never got to hold and I just begged God to let me know if my babies were boys or girls, if they were blonds or brunettes, if they were lively and energetic little people or quiet and reserved little ones, all the things I would never know about them, I asked God to let me know them somehow. The moments I doubted God and His word and His love, during those moments when I was completely weak, He was comforting me, providing for me and carrying me.
It takes a lot of faith to say all this, because it is written from the viewpoint that all has turned out OK at the end of this storm. But we don't really know that yet. I have six weeks to go before we will know what God's plan is for this pregnancy and this baby. I still fear I will lose her. Day by day I am learning to trust God more and more, but it's a process and I still struggle with this fear and anxiety. Despite that fear, I am writing in faith that El-Shaddai is going to complete this good work He has started in me and deliver this baby girl to us healthy and safe. I am writing in faith and believing in His strength and power and love and provision. The thing I am most humbled by and most thankful for is this realization that I don't have to be strong, I don't have to have it all figured out, I don't have to have all the answers. And we didn't have any of these things when we closed our eyes and jumped off the cliff. I didn't know how strong God was going to have to be for me throughout this pregnancy, I didn't know what the right option to pursue was, do we do this treatment or that one, do we trust this doctor or the other one, there was no clear answer for us and we had no idea how to move forward to have another baby. We did not have all the answers we wanted so that we could make that decision (We probably never would have. There is just too much unknown in this world of fertility and unexplained miscarriages and the new science on immune related pregnancy loss). We were so weak that our only choice was to finally, in a moment of desperate faith, throw our hands up in the air and give it to God, take the terrifying jump, not knowing exactly how we would land, but trusting that the landing place would be God's arms no matter what. We had no answers. We had no plan. We just put or faith in a miracle providing God and jumped. And we have been allowing Him to be our strength ever since. We have been depending on Him to carry us ever since. I have been asking Him to carry me and to carry my baby and to allow me to carry her safely for almost 9 months now. In retrospect I see that God equipped me to act out the lesson before I even had learned it...it is only by God's strength that that is possible.
So I fully admit my weakness in all of this, in all of life. And I praise the God who is powerful and strong and loving, the God who is my strength, my El-Shaddai. I stand in awe of the miracle He is giving us. The words of many doctors are seared into my heart, "There is nothing more we can do for you.", "We just don't know why you keep miscarrying." and of the baby I carry now a doctor said to me in the early weeks when the pregnancy was struggling along..."It is unlikely we can save this one." God looked down at us all and in our weakness He created our Vivienne and made the impossible happen. "With man it is impossible. But with God all things are possible" Matthew 19:26.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
"My grace is sufficient for you. For my strength is made perfect in weakness" 2 Corinthians 12:9. I have heard many people say of a trying time in their lives, "I didn't know how strong I was until (insert trying circumstance) happened." I have found that to be absolutely not true for me. The truth is I didn't know how weak I was until I lost 6 children to miscarriage. I didn't know how badly my heart could hurt. I didn't know I could be the type of person who would struggle to get out of bed, or cry for the better part of my day, or withdraw from my family and friends. I know it is not popular in our culture of self sufficiency where depending on someone else is viewed as weak, but the truth is I was weak and I was depending on someone else to carry me through. No, I didn't know how weak I could be...but what I learned was how strong God could be. I didn't know that in my weakness and suffering the perfect platform for God's strength was being created. If I have shown any strength at all throughout this whole ordeal, it was not my own, but God's shining through me. El-Shaddai is a name for God meaning "strong", "powerful" and at the sane time also "comforting", "nourishing" and "providing fruitfulness". I have come to intimately know God by this name. He is certainly El-Shaddai to me. When there was no way, by His strength and power He provided a way. When we thought life could never be produced between Jason and I again, He made us fruitful and created life out of the two of us. When this world told us it was impossible, God made it possible. If that isn't strength and power then I don't know what is. And when I needed to be carried, during the long, sleepless nights of worry and anxiety, during the moments of uncertain futures and crushed dreams, during the times when my arms ached for babies I never got to hold and I just begged God to let me know if my babies were boys or girls, if they were blonds or brunettes, if they were lively and energetic little people or quiet and reserved little ones, all the things I would never know about them, I asked God to let me know them somehow. The moments I doubted God and His word and His love, during those moments when I was completely weak, He was comforting me, providing for me and carrying me.
It takes a lot of faith to say all this, because it is written from the viewpoint that all has turned out OK at the end of this storm. But we don't really know that yet. I have six weeks to go before we will know what God's plan is for this pregnancy and this baby. I still fear I will lose her. Day by day I am learning to trust God more and more, but it's a process and I still struggle with this fear and anxiety. Despite that fear, I am writing in faith that El-Shaddai is going to complete this good work He has started in me and deliver this baby girl to us healthy and safe. I am writing in faith and believing in His strength and power and love and provision. The thing I am most humbled by and most thankful for is this realization that I don't have to be strong, I don't have to have it all figured out, I don't have to have all the answers. And we didn't have any of these things when we closed our eyes and jumped off the cliff. I didn't know how strong God was going to have to be for me throughout this pregnancy, I didn't know what the right option to pursue was, do we do this treatment or that one, do we trust this doctor or the other one, there was no clear answer for us and we had no idea how to move forward to have another baby. We did not have all the answers we wanted so that we could make that decision (We probably never would have. There is just too much unknown in this world of fertility and unexplained miscarriages and the new science on immune related pregnancy loss). We were so weak that our only choice was to finally, in a moment of desperate faith, throw our hands up in the air and give it to God, take the terrifying jump, not knowing exactly how we would land, but trusting that the landing place would be God's arms no matter what. We had no answers. We had no plan. We just put or faith in a miracle providing God and jumped. And we have been allowing Him to be our strength ever since. We have been depending on Him to carry us ever since. I have been asking Him to carry me and to carry my baby and to allow me to carry her safely for almost 9 months now. In retrospect I see that God equipped me to act out the lesson before I even had learned it...it is only by God's strength that that is possible.
So I fully admit my weakness in all of this, in all of life. And I praise the God who is powerful and strong and loving, the God who is my strength, my El-Shaddai. I stand in awe of the miracle He is giving us. The words of many doctors are seared into my heart, "There is nothing more we can do for you.", "We just don't know why you keep miscarrying." and of the baby I carry now a doctor said to me in the early weeks when the pregnancy was struggling along..."It is unlikely we can save this one." God looked down at us all and in our weakness He created our Vivienne and made the impossible happen. "With man it is impossible. But with God all things are possible" Matthew 19:26.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Pink Walls
What says "welcome baby girl!" more than pink walls? This weekend we were blessed to have several good friends come over and paint our baby's room for us. I sat in the room today, the empty pink room. I looked around and just took it all in, the room, what the room means, the thought of who will soon occupy the room, the little blessing that makes this room necessary, and all the girly pinkness of it. I felt happy, relieved to check another task off my ever increasing to do list. I also was struck by the permanence of it. There they were staring me right in the face, pink walls, a permanent mark on our house that will forever shout that a baby girl was expected for this room. Sure, I can always paint over it, but the proof will be there beneath the surface never the less. Her mark on this house, proof of her existence will always be here. I feel sad and scared. Sad that I can't just paint my baby's room and feel excited about it. Scared that even now, with just 9 weeks to go, what if we don't end up needing a pretty pink room? I can't help the tears that slip past my eye lids even as I write this, a mixture of joy, disbelief and fear.
My therapist once asked me at what point in my pregnancy would I finally feel confident that everything would be OK with the baby. I answered her, "When she is born." And this is the realization I have come to, pregnancy after a loss is hard, unbelievably hard. Pregnancy after six losses is almost as hard as the losses themselves were. You feel so much pressure to enjoy it and take in every moment because you know what a blessing and gift it is. You know how many other mothers are out there hurting and longing for a baby, grieving for ones they have lost. You know their pain and you know how incredibly blessed you are so you should be thankful, you should be happy. And you are. But you are also terrified. You are stressed. Simple decisions like should I get the flu shot or not keep you awake at night, even though you know you should. But you are scared to do anything at all while you are pregnant. You lay on the couch and anxiously wait for your baby to start kicking. You become panic stricken when she doesn't and then feel silly a few hours later when she is clearly learning how to kick box in there. People ask how you are feeling all the time and you lie and say "oh good" or "I'm tired and have a lot of heartburn, but otherwise I feel pretty good" when all the while you only think about how emotionally hard it is on you and you know that is not what they meant when they asked the question and they are not prepared for the real answer to "How are you feeling?" Most of all, you just want this baby here, safe and healthy. You love that you are pregnant and carrying this little life but the emotional tole is becoming very heavy and you just want her here. You want to look at your pink walls and only feel joy, not because you are expecting a baby girl to be sleeping in there soon, but because she is and she is here and she is perfect.
Pregnancy after a loss is hard and the more losses you endure the harder the subsequent pregnancies become. It has taken me almost my whole pregnancy to learn this, something that can really be applied to many situations in life and that is this...It's OK that it's hard. It's OK that I am scared. It's OK that this is not the ideal pregnancy I hoped it would be. It's all OK. Accept it and embrace that this is the pregnancy I have, hard though it may be, it's mine and it's bringing a miracle into this world. It has taught me faith and patience. It has taught be to press into God and put trust in Him like never ever before in my life. It has taught me what it feels like to step out of the boat and know my survival depends on Jesus alone and how to cling to Him with the smallest amount of energy I have left. And it has taught me that the smallest I have is enough, enough for Him and He will fill the gaps for me. It has taught me that one child does not replace another and that is how I know they were each so precious to me, each individual baby that was lost was a baby I loved and still grieve for even though I carry this one. I know this now for sure. And strangely this mess of a pregnancy is beautiful. It is a mess of a mother who is scared and weak and weary, and hopeful and faithful and relentless in her pursuit of her dream. It is a mess of tears and stress and sleepless nights and knowing it really will be a miracle if this baby survives nine months inside this crazy lady, and it is weeping tears of joy at the very thought of finally seeing her and holding her, it is thanking God for the little princess clad three year old who talks to my tummy and tickles the baby and sings her songs, It is the awe of seeing her on ultrasounds every week, it is the sheer joy that comes every single time I feel her move. It's crying alone in a pink room, it's starring at those pink walls and slowly starting the process of tearing down walls of fear and sadness around my heart. It's a mess. It's mine. It's beautiful.
It's OK to be sad. It's OK to be happy. It's OK to just feel what I feel. It's OK that pregnancy is hard for me. It's OK because God has removed the walls that stood between us and our long awaited baby. He has removed the walls between defeat and victory. He is removing the walls between my pain and healing and He has made pretty pink walls a reality in our home. He has made this life, Vivienne, and whatever mess it makes out of me to get her here is just simply OK.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
My therapist once asked me at what point in my pregnancy would I finally feel confident that everything would be OK with the baby. I answered her, "When she is born." And this is the realization I have come to, pregnancy after a loss is hard, unbelievably hard. Pregnancy after six losses is almost as hard as the losses themselves were. You feel so much pressure to enjoy it and take in every moment because you know what a blessing and gift it is. You know how many other mothers are out there hurting and longing for a baby, grieving for ones they have lost. You know their pain and you know how incredibly blessed you are so you should be thankful, you should be happy. And you are. But you are also terrified. You are stressed. Simple decisions like should I get the flu shot or not keep you awake at night, even though you know you should. But you are scared to do anything at all while you are pregnant. You lay on the couch and anxiously wait for your baby to start kicking. You become panic stricken when she doesn't and then feel silly a few hours later when she is clearly learning how to kick box in there. People ask how you are feeling all the time and you lie and say "oh good" or "I'm tired and have a lot of heartburn, but otherwise I feel pretty good" when all the while you only think about how emotionally hard it is on you and you know that is not what they meant when they asked the question and they are not prepared for the real answer to "How are you feeling?" Most of all, you just want this baby here, safe and healthy. You love that you are pregnant and carrying this little life but the emotional tole is becoming very heavy and you just want her here. You want to look at your pink walls and only feel joy, not because you are expecting a baby girl to be sleeping in there soon, but because she is and she is here and she is perfect.
Pregnancy after a loss is hard and the more losses you endure the harder the subsequent pregnancies become. It has taken me almost my whole pregnancy to learn this, something that can really be applied to many situations in life and that is this...It's OK that it's hard. It's OK that I am scared. It's OK that this is not the ideal pregnancy I hoped it would be. It's all OK. Accept it and embrace that this is the pregnancy I have, hard though it may be, it's mine and it's bringing a miracle into this world. It has taught me faith and patience. It has taught be to press into God and put trust in Him like never ever before in my life. It has taught me what it feels like to step out of the boat and know my survival depends on Jesus alone and how to cling to Him with the smallest amount of energy I have left. And it has taught me that the smallest I have is enough, enough for Him and He will fill the gaps for me. It has taught me that one child does not replace another and that is how I know they were each so precious to me, each individual baby that was lost was a baby I loved and still grieve for even though I carry this one. I know this now for sure. And strangely this mess of a pregnancy is beautiful. It is a mess of a mother who is scared and weak and weary, and hopeful and faithful and relentless in her pursuit of her dream. It is a mess of tears and stress and sleepless nights and knowing it really will be a miracle if this baby survives nine months inside this crazy lady, and it is weeping tears of joy at the very thought of finally seeing her and holding her, it is thanking God for the little princess clad three year old who talks to my tummy and tickles the baby and sings her songs, It is the awe of seeing her on ultrasounds every week, it is the sheer joy that comes every single time I feel her move. It's crying alone in a pink room, it's starring at those pink walls and slowly starting the process of tearing down walls of fear and sadness around my heart. It's a mess. It's mine. It's beautiful.
It's OK to be sad. It's OK to be happy. It's OK to just feel what I feel. It's OK that pregnancy is hard for me. It's OK because God has removed the walls that stood between us and our long awaited baby. He has removed the walls between defeat and victory. He is removing the walls between my pain and healing and He has made pretty pink walls a reality in our home. He has made this life, Vivienne, and whatever mess it makes out of me to get her here is just simply OK.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
Monday, August 12, 2013
The Long Cold Winter
28 Weeks. 7 months. Jason and I sit in our kitchen visiting and feeling very happy after a great appointment today. At 28 weeks, my doctor has now ordered weekly non stress tests and biophysical profile tests to monitor our little baby. We had the first one of these today. I was nervous about it. The last and only other time I had one of these tests was when I was 38 weeks pregnant with Riley and she failed it and was induced early. I was scared this baby would fail too and I would have a baby in the NICU by tomorrow. But instead this little one scored a whopping 10 out of 10...perfect! Her heart rate was great, she responded to stimulus (a loud noise right by my tummy) great, she moved around a lot and I have plenty of fluid in her happy little uterine home. And her growth is right on, 2 pounds 8 ounces, falling perfectly in the 50th percentile. Which is good considering I tested positive on my second gestational diabetes test two weeks ago. I now have two weeks of blood sugar monitoring, finger pricks and special diets under my ever expanding belt. It's a big bummer. I was upset about it at first, but with many things, I'm just falling into the routine of it all and just chalking it up to yet another complication I must manage to have a healthy baby. But really, when you have been through all that I have been through you kind of just learn to roll with the punches instead of letting them knock you down. However, I pretty much guarantee you this seals the deal when it comes to my weight gain in this pregnancy...I will go through nine months of pregnancy and not gain a single pound. It's really hard to gain weight when you are following such a strict diet and exercising every day, another thing that worries me and why it is great to see that though my weight won't seem to budge, little girl weighs perfect. She is growing and putting on weight perfectly and seems to be oblivious to it all, exactly how I want it for her.
As Jason and I sit in the kitchen happily chit-chatting away he tells me about a conversation he had with a friend recently. His friend asked when we were due and commented that he knows so many people who are having babies this October and November. Jason's reply was, "Yeah, Ryan, it was a long, cold winter last year." We got a good laugh out of that. And then I thought about how it has been a long, cold winter for so long for us. The biting cold relentlessly at our backs for the past several years. Every time new life started to bloom, the bitterness of winter would come and steal it away before it ever had a chance to grow. So many years of bareness, a life without Spring ever coming back around. This past winter was indeed an especially long and cold one, lasting months longer than normal. It even threatened to take this little baby I carry now...I still remember making our way through the treacherous blizzard trying to find a doctor and pharmacy that was open and who would see me so I could get the prescriptions and medicine I needed to keep my baby alive. It was a literal race against time. Nothing seemed to be in our favor and I was certain I was going to miscarry again. This coming after the long, cold journey of defeat, loss and heart ache. A journey that led me to places I never knew existed..., the loneliness of a room on the maternity ward where I could hear the cries of newly born babies and the sounds of happy families coming to visit while I lay trying to deliver my sleeping baby, the cold, sterile operating room of a hospital where I did eventually deliver that tiny little being, the office of a man at the funeral home where I sat and discussed the cremation of my child with a complete stranger, and onto my knees in desperate pleas to God to save me from this deep and profound hurt in my heart. And then down the road of cancer and the suffering it causes on all who experience it. Just last week we had quite the scare when Jason's dad called us and said, "Come over right away. Mom has taken a turn and the nurses don't think she will survive the night." We dropped everything and rushed over and stood by her side for hours. What we witnessed that night was truly awful. So awful that the tears and stress of it caused me to start contracting, at which point I was promptly sent home for rest. Yes, a long cold winter it has been. But joy comes in the morning. With her fighting spirit and utter determination to see our little miracle baby before she goes, Vickie was better the next day, surprising us all. I am 7 months pregnant with a baby who got a perfect score on her tests today. We spent this evening discussing a very special project that is underway in Vickie's honor. A project that made us all feel good and smile. The warmth is beginning to overtake the cold, the snow is melting, Spring is almost here. The flowers will bloom. New life will grow...a life in the form of a baby girl, a life in the form of a beautiful soul beginning to live the way we were always meant to live, with God in heaven. Vivienne Faith Parker is living proof that winter does not last forever and joy will come. The name Vivienne means "alive or life". We knew it was the perfect name for our little Baby Life. She represents life. Life overcoming death, happiness overshadowing the suffering, Jesus, the One who gives us life, triumphing over the long, cold winter.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
Monday, July 29, 2013
My Story
I feel like my life is a book without an ending. I have a story but the ending is yet to be revealed. I am getting close to the end but just like a good book, the last part can seem to take so long to get through when you just want to know how it ends.
I have done little to prepare for our baby. She is due in three months and she does not have a bedroom, clothes, a car seat in the car, etc. I know that I have enough from when Riley was born that I could get by for awhile before I would really have to go buy anything or even have a room for her. So I have just been putting it off. Putting it off because I am tired, because my time seems so limited, because the demands of my family are too great for me to focus on preparing for a baby right now and because it is very scary to prepare for a baby that you fear may not ever come. But the planner in me had a little panic attack recently when it hit me that three months will fly by so fast and I am not at all ready for this baby, or at least our home is not at all ready for her. So I started the process, I bought a few things here and there and today while I was busy converting our guest room into a play room and our play room into a nursery and all the while trying to keep Riley entertained I got a phone call. These phone calls come every so often and they always stop me dead in my tracks. A mother has lost her baby. She is in despair. She has found the number, my number, to the support group I used to co-lead with another baby loss mother. She is calling for help because she has no where else to turn. This particular mother has had several children with no problem and then out of no where, totally unexpected, all of a sudden she is having miscarriages, one at 15 weeks and then another at 20 weeks. We talk for a few minutes, mainly she just wants referrals to a private counselor. I give her some referrals and tell her she is welcome to call me anytime if she needs anything. I hang up and my heart hurts. I know her pain. I feel sick when I think about what she is going through right now. I thank God she has other children. They will be angels who carry her through. But to make it that far two times in a row and then to lose them both...I feel the anxiety rise up in me. And this is the double edged sword that is support groups and part of why I stopped leading the one I used to. You find great comfort in knowing you are not alone and bonding with other mothers who know how you feel, the only other people on earth who know how you feel. Their stories also scare the hell out of you. I know mine surely scares the mother who has had one or two miscarriages. She thinks, "Finally, someone who understands." She also thinks, "Oh my, Am I going to have six miscarriages too??!!" I know that's how she feels because I remember when I had just had two miscarriages and I would hear stories of people who had seven or eight and then finally had a baby and all I would think was, "Is that going to be me?" I totally missed the part about how she did eventually have a baby, I just heard lots of miscarriages and felt terrified. Maybe it was my intuition...that did indeed turn out to be me.
Support groups are amazing and also scary. I hung up the phone and felt paralyzed. How can I go on preparing for this baby when I hear a story like that? I remember how keenly aware I am that I could still lose her. How do I finish the task I have started, a half converted guest room/ play room/ nursery? My house is a mess with piles of things that are designated for a certain room, certain shelf or Goodwill. I feel overwhelmed with the task ahead, preparing our home for this baby, living out three more months in my story with no ending. I was doing ok operating inside my own little protective bubble, but when a scary phone call bursts my bubble it is really hard to go on. I talk myself through it....That is her story, not yours. God is working in her life just like He has worked in mine. He is carrying her just like He has carried me. He will provide just what she needs to get through each day just as He has done for me. He has a plan for her and her family and He is a God of miracles. He will redeem this pain in her life, some way, some how. I know He will. But the one thing I cannot do is take her story and make it mine. I remember my story, a story that began with a rainbow, that contains all the elements of a good story, heartache, determination, faith, blessings in the midst of the pain, great love between a man and a woman who must endure the fire that refines their love and makes it come out shinier and stronger than it ever could have been if not for the burning heat, a miracle baby named Riley...and a great ending. I don't know how this story will end yet. The next three months will tell us. My heart aches for the mother I spoke to today. I will think about her all day. But I will chose to focus on what I do know. And what I know is this, God has been with Jason and myself and this little baby from the very beginning. He has brought her this far and he has touched my heart with a strange assurance that she will make it here safe and sound. God's timing is perfect with this little baby as she came just when our family needed this little ray of hope more then we could imagine. All of us are hopeful, despite great family tragedy right now, because of her little life inside me. This is what I know of my story, I have Jason, I have Riley, I have a baby who is alive and kicking today and I have a God who loves me. Maybe that is the end of my story. But I think God has a better ending than that in store for us. I wait in eager anticipation to see my story, His story, unfold.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
I have done little to prepare for our baby. She is due in three months and she does not have a bedroom, clothes, a car seat in the car, etc. I know that I have enough from when Riley was born that I could get by for awhile before I would really have to go buy anything or even have a room for her. So I have just been putting it off. Putting it off because I am tired, because my time seems so limited, because the demands of my family are too great for me to focus on preparing for a baby right now and because it is very scary to prepare for a baby that you fear may not ever come. But the planner in me had a little panic attack recently when it hit me that three months will fly by so fast and I am not at all ready for this baby, or at least our home is not at all ready for her. So I started the process, I bought a few things here and there and today while I was busy converting our guest room into a play room and our play room into a nursery and all the while trying to keep Riley entertained I got a phone call. These phone calls come every so often and they always stop me dead in my tracks. A mother has lost her baby. She is in despair. She has found the number, my number, to the support group I used to co-lead with another baby loss mother. She is calling for help because she has no where else to turn. This particular mother has had several children with no problem and then out of no where, totally unexpected, all of a sudden she is having miscarriages, one at 15 weeks and then another at 20 weeks. We talk for a few minutes, mainly she just wants referrals to a private counselor. I give her some referrals and tell her she is welcome to call me anytime if she needs anything. I hang up and my heart hurts. I know her pain. I feel sick when I think about what she is going through right now. I thank God she has other children. They will be angels who carry her through. But to make it that far two times in a row and then to lose them both...I feel the anxiety rise up in me. And this is the double edged sword that is support groups and part of why I stopped leading the one I used to. You find great comfort in knowing you are not alone and bonding with other mothers who know how you feel, the only other people on earth who know how you feel. Their stories also scare the hell out of you. I know mine surely scares the mother who has had one or two miscarriages. She thinks, "Finally, someone who understands." She also thinks, "Oh my, Am I going to have six miscarriages too??!!" I know that's how she feels because I remember when I had just had two miscarriages and I would hear stories of people who had seven or eight and then finally had a baby and all I would think was, "Is that going to be me?" I totally missed the part about how she did eventually have a baby, I just heard lots of miscarriages and felt terrified. Maybe it was my intuition...that did indeed turn out to be me.
Support groups are amazing and also scary. I hung up the phone and felt paralyzed. How can I go on preparing for this baby when I hear a story like that? I remember how keenly aware I am that I could still lose her. How do I finish the task I have started, a half converted guest room/ play room/ nursery? My house is a mess with piles of things that are designated for a certain room, certain shelf or Goodwill. I feel overwhelmed with the task ahead, preparing our home for this baby, living out three more months in my story with no ending. I was doing ok operating inside my own little protective bubble, but when a scary phone call bursts my bubble it is really hard to go on. I talk myself through it....That is her story, not yours. God is working in her life just like He has worked in mine. He is carrying her just like He has carried me. He will provide just what she needs to get through each day just as He has done for me. He has a plan for her and her family and He is a God of miracles. He will redeem this pain in her life, some way, some how. I know He will. But the one thing I cannot do is take her story and make it mine. I remember my story, a story that began with a rainbow, that contains all the elements of a good story, heartache, determination, faith, blessings in the midst of the pain, great love between a man and a woman who must endure the fire that refines their love and makes it come out shinier and stronger than it ever could have been if not for the burning heat, a miracle baby named Riley...and a great ending. I don't know how this story will end yet. The next three months will tell us. My heart aches for the mother I spoke to today. I will think about her all day. But I will chose to focus on what I do know. And what I know is this, God has been with Jason and myself and this little baby from the very beginning. He has brought her this far and he has touched my heart with a strange assurance that she will make it here safe and sound. God's timing is perfect with this little baby as she came just when our family needed this little ray of hope more then we could imagine. All of us are hopeful, despite great family tragedy right now, because of her little life inside me. This is what I know of my story, I have Jason, I have Riley, I have a baby who is alive and kicking today and I have a God who loves me. Maybe that is the end of my story. But I think God has a better ending than that in store for us. I wait in eager anticipation to see my story, His story, unfold.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
24 Weeks!
24 weeks! 6 months! Yes, our little baby is now viable and could survive outside of me. I saw my doctor yesterday and I had a sono. Her growth is right on, perfectly in the 55th percentile. She weighs 1 lb. 8 oz. approximately. And she is no longer breech either. Yeah!! My doctor said she could not look any more perfect. Tracking her growth is so reassuring because if there was a problem with her umbilical cord like last time she would not grow properly. Umbilical cord problems can be very hard to detect during pregnancy so the best way to judge if the placenta and umbilical cord are healthy is if the baby is growing normally. And so far she is :) In another month, starting at 28 weeks, my doctor wants me to start weekly Non Stress Tests (NST) and Biophysical Profile Tests (BPT) to monitor her. The BPT is the test Riley failed at 38 weeks and why we induced her early. My doctor told me this week that any score less than 8 on that test means the baby needs to be monitored in the hospital or delivered. Riley scored a 4. So I am really happy we are doing these every week. She said, "With a history like yours we aren't taking any chances". She also said, "We will probably have a baby the last week in October because I don't think you want to go all the way to your due date." She knows me so well.
So all is going well and my house is a disaster as we pack up and move everything out of the guest room to make room for the nursery. Maybe some of you second time moms can relate to this or maybe I'm just a weirdo. But I've actually been a little sad lately when I think about how it's not going to be just Riley and I any more. As a stay at home mother, it has been primarily just her and I for over three years now. We are best buddies. Of course, it probably goes without saying that I am thrilled beyond words to be having another child and I can't wait for this wonderful change to happen and to add another little girl to the mix. But I also look back at the last three years and all the pain and sadness and the one person who has been with me through it all, seen me on my worst days, inspired me on the days I couldn't get out of bed, brought a smile to my tear stained face many a times, warmed my heart and kept me hoping, sat beside me on the stairs while I cried....the one person who has seen all of that and stood by me through it all is Riley. She loved me even when I was at my lowest. No one else witnessed all that, not even Jason. He saw a fraction of it because he was where he needed to be, away at work providing for us so I can be home with my precious girl. Riley has been such a trooper. Her first three years of life have not been easy. She has lost six little siblings and lived through her parent's grief, she has fallen in love with a Mimi she will have to say goodbye to before any child should and she has fought her little tail off to be the non stop little chatter box she is today. I think love got her through it, my love, Jason's love, the love of so many friends and family and supremely, God's love. And certainly love is what got me through it, love from all those mentioned above but undoubtedly the love of a little toddler who doesn't judge you for crying, for not showering, for feeding her the same meal every day because you are too sad to even go to the store and cook, who hugs you and cuddles with you, who finally learns to say the word "mama" and lights up your whole world with one sweet little word. Riley has been that amazing little girl for me for over three years and as thrilled as I am, there is a little part of me that will miss the bond she and I have made during this time when it was just the two of us.
But we have all worked hard to get this little girl here, Riley included. Oh the joy she is going to bring, that she already has brought. Riley deserves this little sister in her life and I know the bond that will form between the three of us will far surpass anything else. I think this baby is coming no matter what. She is determined. I am determined and God has made it pretty clear that He is determined. So soon, these two best buddies will take a new little girl under our wing. We will love her and teach her all our ways, like how we love to paint our toes together, try on mommy's make up together, laugh and giggle and tickle together, read stories and bake cookies. How we love to go to the mall and shop, how we love our girls days out with our best friends Bailey and Bella and Kinley, how we love sleep overs at grandmother's house on the nights when daddy works late. We love ice cream and princess movies. We love rocking in the rocking chair even at age three. We love Barbie dolls and baby dolls and walks to the park on fall days. To one sweet baby girl, thank you for filling my life with all this joy and for loving me through the pain. And to another sweet baby girl, we can't wait to share all this and more with you. Mommy and Riley can't wait to welcome you into our little bond. We love you always and forever and no matter what.
So all is going well and my house is a disaster as we pack up and move everything out of the guest room to make room for the nursery. Maybe some of you second time moms can relate to this or maybe I'm just a weirdo. But I've actually been a little sad lately when I think about how it's not going to be just Riley and I any more. As a stay at home mother, it has been primarily just her and I for over three years now. We are best buddies. Of course, it probably goes without saying that I am thrilled beyond words to be having another child and I can't wait for this wonderful change to happen and to add another little girl to the mix. But I also look back at the last three years and all the pain and sadness and the one person who has been with me through it all, seen me on my worst days, inspired me on the days I couldn't get out of bed, brought a smile to my tear stained face many a times, warmed my heart and kept me hoping, sat beside me on the stairs while I cried....the one person who has seen all of that and stood by me through it all is Riley. She loved me even when I was at my lowest. No one else witnessed all that, not even Jason. He saw a fraction of it because he was where he needed to be, away at work providing for us so I can be home with my precious girl. Riley has been such a trooper. Her first three years of life have not been easy. She has lost six little siblings and lived through her parent's grief, she has fallen in love with a Mimi she will have to say goodbye to before any child should and she has fought her little tail off to be the non stop little chatter box she is today. I think love got her through it, my love, Jason's love, the love of so many friends and family and supremely, God's love. And certainly love is what got me through it, love from all those mentioned above but undoubtedly the love of a little toddler who doesn't judge you for crying, for not showering, for feeding her the same meal every day because you are too sad to even go to the store and cook, who hugs you and cuddles with you, who finally learns to say the word "mama" and lights up your whole world with one sweet little word. Riley has been that amazing little girl for me for over three years and as thrilled as I am, there is a little part of me that will miss the bond she and I have made during this time when it was just the two of us.
But we have all worked hard to get this little girl here, Riley included. Oh the joy she is going to bring, that she already has brought. Riley deserves this little sister in her life and I know the bond that will form between the three of us will far surpass anything else. I think this baby is coming no matter what. She is determined. I am determined and God has made it pretty clear that He is determined. So soon, these two best buddies will take a new little girl under our wing. We will love her and teach her all our ways, like how we love to paint our toes together, try on mommy's make up together, laugh and giggle and tickle together, read stories and bake cookies. How we love to go to the mall and shop, how we love our girls days out with our best friends Bailey and Bella and Kinley, how we love sleep overs at grandmother's house on the nights when daddy works late. We love ice cream and princess movies. We love rocking in the rocking chair even at age three. We love Barbie dolls and baby dolls and walks to the park on fall days. To one sweet baby girl, thank you for filling my life with all this joy and for loving me through the pain. And to another sweet baby girl, we can't wait to share all this and more with you. Mommy and Riley can't wait to welcome you into our little bond. We love you always and forever and no matter what.
Saturday, June 29, 2013
More Than I Can Ask or Imagine
I saw a rainbow. I knew it was all going to be ok. I didn't know how ok it was going to be though. I didn't know because God gives us more than we could ever possibly ask or imagine.
I was gestational diabetic with Riley. I failed my 1 hour glucose test on Monday this last week. To truly diagnose gestational diabetes a woman has to fail the 1 hour test and then she has to take a 3 hour glucose test. If she fails the 3 hour test then she is diagnosed. Typically a woman is not diagnosed just based on the 1 hour test. But since I had it with Riley and I failed the 1 hour test this time around, we all pretty much assumed I would fail the 3 hour test as well. I met with a nutritionist, started following my diabetic diet plan, got all my supplies to monitor my blood sugar and started testing it six times a day. My doctor was convinced that I had it enough to go ahead and let me move forward with all those things. I didn't want to take the 3 hour glucose test because I didn't really want to sit in my doctor's office for three hours and put all that sugar in my body for the test just to be diagnosed with something I already knew I had. But my doctor convinced me to do it so on Thursday this week I went in for the three hour test. By the end of the test I had been fasting for over 16 hours and only had drank water and the sugary test drink in that time. When I was driving to meet Jason after the test, I started to feel really dizzy, my heart was racing and I got really hot and a little disoriented. I checked my blood sugar. It was 50. My blood sugar was too low, not too high at all. It dropped low enough to make me sick. I ate lunch and after eating I started to feel better. I think it was a clue to the news to come...
On Friday the nurse called me with the results of the 3 hour test....I passed! Not just passed but passed with flying colors! All 4 of my levels were way under the cut off to be diagnosed with gestational diabetes. The nurse said sometimes people fail the 1 hour test but pass the 3 hour and that is why you have to take the 3 hour to be diagnosed. She said I do not have gestational diabetes right now! I will do the 3 hour test again at 26 weeks because I could still get it as the pregnancy progresses and the hormones get stronger and stronger that cause my insulin levels to get out of whack, but for now, I am good and the longer I go in the pregnancy without being diabetic the better! I may still develop this complication later in my my pregnancy but having to deal with it for two or three months is way better than having to deal with it for four or five months.
Last night we spent the evening on the lake with Jason's cousins and their new boat. The weather was absolutely perfect, the sun was shining and when it went down we watched the most beautiful sunset. Riley loved the boat and "driving", she played and ran around and asked about everything on the boat, she talked up a storm. I ate strawberries and didn't have to worry about them raising my blood sugar. It was a perfect evening. Thank you God for blessing me with more than I could have ever asked or imagined, not just a baby that is going to be ok despite complications, but a pregnancy free of the complication to begin with (so far, fingers crossed!!), not just for a little girl who is talking, but for a little girl who never stops talking, for family and a beautiful sunset. Thank you God for bringing joy back into a heart that has been sad for so long.
Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, 21 to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen. - Ephesians 3: 20 - 21
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
Bathing Beauty
Riley driving the boat
Pregnant toes, watching the sun set
Riley and I cuddling while we watch the sunset
I was gestational diabetic with Riley. I failed my 1 hour glucose test on Monday this last week. To truly diagnose gestational diabetes a woman has to fail the 1 hour test and then she has to take a 3 hour glucose test. If she fails the 3 hour test then she is diagnosed. Typically a woman is not diagnosed just based on the 1 hour test. But since I had it with Riley and I failed the 1 hour test this time around, we all pretty much assumed I would fail the 3 hour test as well. I met with a nutritionist, started following my diabetic diet plan, got all my supplies to monitor my blood sugar and started testing it six times a day. My doctor was convinced that I had it enough to go ahead and let me move forward with all those things. I didn't want to take the 3 hour glucose test because I didn't really want to sit in my doctor's office for three hours and put all that sugar in my body for the test just to be diagnosed with something I already knew I had. But my doctor convinced me to do it so on Thursday this week I went in for the three hour test. By the end of the test I had been fasting for over 16 hours and only had drank water and the sugary test drink in that time. When I was driving to meet Jason after the test, I started to feel really dizzy, my heart was racing and I got really hot and a little disoriented. I checked my blood sugar. It was 50. My blood sugar was too low, not too high at all. It dropped low enough to make me sick. I ate lunch and after eating I started to feel better. I think it was a clue to the news to come...
On Friday the nurse called me with the results of the 3 hour test....I passed! Not just passed but passed with flying colors! All 4 of my levels were way under the cut off to be diagnosed with gestational diabetes. The nurse said sometimes people fail the 1 hour test but pass the 3 hour and that is why you have to take the 3 hour to be diagnosed. She said I do not have gestational diabetes right now! I will do the 3 hour test again at 26 weeks because I could still get it as the pregnancy progresses and the hormones get stronger and stronger that cause my insulin levels to get out of whack, but for now, I am good and the longer I go in the pregnancy without being diabetic the better! I may still develop this complication later in my my pregnancy but having to deal with it for two or three months is way better than having to deal with it for four or five months.
Last night we spent the evening on the lake with Jason's cousins and their new boat. The weather was absolutely perfect, the sun was shining and when it went down we watched the most beautiful sunset. Riley loved the boat and "driving", she played and ran around and asked about everything on the boat, she talked up a storm. I ate strawberries and didn't have to worry about them raising my blood sugar. It was a perfect evening. Thank you God for blessing me with more than I could have ever asked or imagined, not just a baby that is going to be ok despite complications, but a pregnancy free of the complication to begin with (so far, fingers crossed!!), not just for a little girl who is talking, but for a little girl who never stops talking, for family and a beautiful sunset. Thank you God for bringing joy back into a heart that has been sad for so long.
Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, 21 to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen. - Ephesians 3: 20 - 21
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
On the Pontoon!
Monday, June 24, 2013
Somewhere Over the Rainbow
Two posts in one day. What could possibly warrant that?
After receiving the news that I am once again gestational diabetic and after being terrified by the new research and what it suggests I had a pretty bad afternoon. So bad that I could not even take Riley to her dance class tonight. I had to call Jason to come get her and take her. When they got home Riley must have said "I want macanona and cheese!" like 20 times. I finally gave her some and she started crying because she didn't like it. "I want Mickey Mouse chicken nuggets!" I am exhausted and in no mood to fight with her so I preheat the oven to cook her chicken nuggets when she suddenly falls on the floor crying. "What's wrong??!!" I say. "I want to play with Adler!" I look out the window and our neighbor's little girl, Adler, is outside and suddenly Riley has no interest in eating. She just wants to go play and she is throwing yet another fit. All the while Jason is trying to explain to me why he thinks I am freaking out over nothing and our baby is fine. So I do something I have been too scared to do since I got pregnant...I grab my phone and ear buds, I put on my tennis shoes, I leave a note on the counter that says, "went for a walk" and I walk around my whole neighborhood. And I don't just stroll. I walk hard. The kind of walk that attempts to release all the stress.
While I am walking I think about how I haven't seen a rainbow since I got pregnant. I think to myself that if I could ever use one, it's right now. I have this feeling that I should turn around and look back behind me. I look back, nothing. I look back again and even a third time, nothing. No rainbow. I can't find one. I can't find God. I am scared and alone. I walk on, thoughts swirling in my head. A few minutes later I stop dead in my tracks when I look up to see a tiny sliver of a rainbow peaking through the clouds. I stood there on the sidewalk while cars whizzed past me on the busy street and just stared at it and cried. There He was. God showed up. He spoke to me. He told me it is all going to be all right, with Riley, with the baby. They are both going to be ok. I was so humbled. I said over and over as I cried, "Thank you. Thank you. I love you. I love you." Before I walked on, I blew a kiss up to a place that I can't see, to a place somewhere over the rainbow. I blew a kiss to God. I blew a kiss to my children. And for the first time since I got pregnant I felt peace.
I continued walking and crying and looking at the sky. The clouds suddenly broke and there were clear skies and the sun shined so bright. And I thought, isn't this just how it is, we look behind. We look behind to a past that haunts us, to fears that are destroying us, we look back because we are too paralyzed to look forward. And then when we are at our lowest, our most weak and afraid, God shows up and in an instant, the skies are clear, the sun shines, we see a rainbow, we feel peace and with every step we take forward we are one step closer out of the storm and into the light and beauty. I can tell you I have had few experiences like this with God. And I can tell you this, at least in my life, God shows up like this when we are in the dark. This is the secret treasure that is hidden in the dark places of our lives, the amazement, wonder, beauty, glory and healing power of God that is near impossible to see unless you are in the dark place. And this is how you know you have just had an encounter with God, like the real, up close and personal kind that happens but a few times in a life time. You know you have had that because suddenly it is all ok. Six miscarriages are ok. Being terrified for your children's health and well being is ok. It is all ok because it is all worth it to experience God like this, even for just a moment. To be so sure and so full of faith. To be so humbled. It is all worth it to be close to the One who loves us so much he sent his Son to die for us. And I finally understand what it means when the bible says to be thankful in ALL things. I am thankful because I never would have experienced God like this if not for the heart ache I have suffered.
I come home. Jason is waiting for me. He hugs me and says, "It's all going to be ok". "I know. It is." I reply as we hug and Riley sits quietly eating her chicken nuggets. It is all going to be ok because we love a God who shows up when we need him most. Who loves me enough to take my greatest hurts and fears and use them to reflect his glory. Who sends us a rainbow in the midst of the storm to restore our hope. Who leads us out of the storm and into clear skies. Who is blessing me with this beautiful rainbow baby. Who lives in us, around us and somewhere over the rainbow.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
After receiving the news that I am once again gestational diabetic and after being terrified by the new research and what it suggests I had a pretty bad afternoon. So bad that I could not even take Riley to her dance class tonight. I had to call Jason to come get her and take her. When they got home Riley must have said "I want macanona and cheese!" like 20 times. I finally gave her some and she started crying because she didn't like it. "I want Mickey Mouse chicken nuggets!" I am exhausted and in no mood to fight with her so I preheat the oven to cook her chicken nuggets when she suddenly falls on the floor crying. "What's wrong??!!" I say. "I want to play with Adler!" I look out the window and our neighbor's little girl, Adler, is outside and suddenly Riley has no interest in eating. She just wants to go play and she is throwing yet another fit. All the while Jason is trying to explain to me why he thinks I am freaking out over nothing and our baby is fine. So I do something I have been too scared to do since I got pregnant...I grab my phone and ear buds, I put on my tennis shoes, I leave a note on the counter that says, "went for a walk" and I walk around my whole neighborhood. And I don't just stroll. I walk hard. The kind of walk that attempts to release all the stress.
While I am walking I think about how I haven't seen a rainbow since I got pregnant. I think to myself that if I could ever use one, it's right now. I have this feeling that I should turn around and look back behind me. I look back, nothing. I look back again and even a third time, nothing. No rainbow. I can't find one. I can't find God. I am scared and alone. I walk on, thoughts swirling in my head. A few minutes later I stop dead in my tracks when I look up to see a tiny sliver of a rainbow peaking through the clouds. I stood there on the sidewalk while cars whizzed past me on the busy street and just stared at it and cried. There He was. God showed up. He spoke to me. He told me it is all going to be all right, with Riley, with the baby. They are both going to be ok. I was so humbled. I said over and over as I cried, "Thank you. Thank you. I love you. I love you." Before I walked on, I blew a kiss up to a place that I can't see, to a place somewhere over the rainbow. I blew a kiss to God. I blew a kiss to my children. And for the first time since I got pregnant I felt peace.
I continued walking and crying and looking at the sky. The clouds suddenly broke and there were clear skies and the sun shined so bright. And I thought, isn't this just how it is, we look behind. We look behind to a past that haunts us, to fears that are destroying us, we look back because we are too paralyzed to look forward. And then when we are at our lowest, our most weak and afraid, God shows up and in an instant, the skies are clear, the sun shines, we see a rainbow, we feel peace and with every step we take forward we are one step closer out of the storm and into the light and beauty. I can tell you I have had few experiences like this with God. And I can tell you this, at least in my life, God shows up like this when we are in the dark. This is the secret treasure that is hidden in the dark places of our lives, the amazement, wonder, beauty, glory and healing power of God that is near impossible to see unless you are in the dark place. And this is how you know you have just had an encounter with God, like the real, up close and personal kind that happens but a few times in a life time. You know you have had that because suddenly it is all ok. Six miscarriages are ok. Being terrified for your children's health and well being is ok. It is all ok because it is all worth it to experience God like this, even for just a moment. To be so sure and so full of faith. To be so humbled. It is all worth it to be close to the One who loves us so much he sent his Son to die for us. And I finally understand what it means when the bible says to be thankful in ALL things. I am thankful because I never would have experienced God like this if not for the heart ache I have suffered.
I come home. Jason is waiting for me. He hugs me and says, "It's all going to be ok". "I know. It is." I reply as we hug and Riley sits quietly eating her chicken nuggets. It is all going to be ok because we love a God who shows up when we need him most. Who loves me enough to take my greatest hurts and fears and use them to reflect his glory. Who sends us a rainbow in the midst of the storm to restore our hope. Who leads us out of the storm and into clear skies. Who is blessing me with this beautiful rainbow baby. Who lives in us, around us and somewhere over the rainbow.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
I Suck at Having Babies!
Simply said, I suck at having babies. My immune system attacks my own children, I miscarry 90% of the time and even when I do carry a baby to term, it is not without a major pregnancy complication to manage, gestational diabetes. I was diagnosed with that at 28 weeks with Riley. I am going to start the "I suck at having babies club". I have several friends who are trying to have their second child after an easy, uneventful first pregnancy. Some of them are now facing the shock and pain of miscarriages, some of them are finding out they are having trouble conceiving at all this second time and one of them lost her uterus to cancer when she was only in her mid-twenties. She had no children at the time and that effectively ended any chance of her ever carrying her own child. Join the club ladies....why do so many of us suck at having babies??!! If I could drink we would all go out tonight and toast to that. Rain check?
I vividly remember the day two sweet ladies from Infant Toddler Services walked into my living room to evaluate Riley when I suspected she had a speech delay. They were so kind and gentle as they evaluated her and they pointed out many positive things they saw in Riley throughout the evaluation. But in the end, they said Riley did have a speech delay significant enough that she qualified for speech therapy services. I naively asked the question I wish I never had...."She has met all her developmental milestones up to this point. Why would she suddenly be behind on this one? What could cause this?" "Well, speech delays are associated with autism and that could be one reason", they answered me. All at once the air was sucked right out of my chest. I couldn't breath. I couldn't talk. I couldn't think. On a cold December morning I sat there on my living room floor, Christmas lights twinkling from the mantel and a beautiful tree smiling down at us, and I slipped away from the lights, the hope, the one shred of happiness I had left. I slipped away from it all. Exactly one week prior I had delivered my sleeping baby. I was postpartum and still cramping and bleeding from the procedure. Exactly one week prior we found out Vickie's cancer had returned. And now this. But miscarriages, I could handle. Cancer, I could handle. My one miracle baby girl, the only one who made it into this world alive, the light of my life, my sweet girl having autism. That I could not handle. It was too much and I just slipped away. I'm still not completely back. The anxiety, fear and worry that "autism" caused this mother is more than I can describe. Riley was eventually evaluated at KU and by perhaps one of God's greatest acts of mercy and grace in my life, she scored within the normal range. They told me she was not autistic. Her speech blossomed with therapy and after just six months, she was discharged. Riley is still slow to come around with speech. She acquires new language skills on the tale end of the "normal" range according to developmental charts. I still touch base with her speech therapist from time to time to update her on Riley. She tells me Riley is doing great and being a little behind is fine, as long as the skills are coming. I only need to get concerned if she stops progressing. She has been out of therapy for a year now and she is progressing fine, on her own time. A study released in 2012, two years after Riley's birth, has sent shivers down my spine at the realization of the bullet we may have dodged.
A major study recently conducted by researchers affiliated with the UC Davis MIND Institute found that mothers with gestational diabetes are more likely to have children with autism and other developmental delays. When I came across this study I nearly had a panic attack. I had no risk factors for gestational diabetes when I was pregnant with Riley. I was not overweight. I was not obese. I had never been diabetic before. No one in my immediate family has diabetes. Unfortunately, diabetes runs strongly on my father's side of the family, effecting my grandmother, two out of three of my aunts and one of my cousins. I must have inherited the gene somehow. Exercise and healthy eating (ok not that healthy, but healthy enough :)) has kept me from becoming diabetic in my non pregnant life, but pregnancy is just more than my body can take. It pushes my diabetic-predisposed genes over the edge and I become diabetic while pregnant. It happened with Riley and I found out today it is happening again with this pregnancy. I am already sticking myself with a needle once a day to give myself medicine to help keep this pregnancy, I am already stressed to the max just worrying if this baby is going to make it. Now I will have to stick myself with a needle an additional three to four times a day to test my blood sugar and I will have the added stress of yet another pregnancy complication that adds to my high-risk status....even more doctors appointments, even more ultrasounds, more consults with perinatologists and nutritionists, a strict diet to adhere to....but even so, I could manage all that. The one thing that frightens me to my very core is this new study (found here) linking gestational diabetes to autism. Is this why Riley was late to talk? Will this cause problems for baby girl I am carrying now? Stupid, stupid genetics. I knew I was at risk for getting this again with this pregnancy. I have been on an anti diabetic medication since I became pregnant and I have been watching my diet so closely that I actually lost five lbs in the my first trimester and I have yet to gain a single pound in this pregnancy. I am 21 weeks and weigh less than I did when I got pregnant! I have done everything I could to prevent this but again I say, stupid genetics!
To my list of things to worry about I will add, will my baby have developmental delays or autism? "I can't do this I can't do this" I cry to myself. "I was so stupid to get pregnant again. I should have just been happy with the one beautiful, healthy child I have." Breath in. Breath out. "You can do this. You can do this. You have to." I do have to and I will. I was so well controlled with Riley. I ate perfectly and only had two blood sugar spikes after I was diagnosed. I exercised every day. I can do this again. Please, please God keep our baby girl healthy. Please protect her little brain from any harm. My baby is breech right now. I hope she turns so I don't need a c-section. But if she doesn't, while they are in there perhaps a little tying of the tubes is in order. I don't think I can ever be pregnant again...because I suck at having babies! To my sweet little girl, hang in there baby. I know it's tough inside mommy's messed up body. I'm doing everything in my power to keep you safe and healthy. The rest is up to God. Hold tight to Him little one. I don't carry babies very well, but lucky for us He does. He is carrying me right now and He is carrying you. Press into Him sweet one. Feel his nail scarred hands as they hold you, protect you, heal you and as they do the same for your mother.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
I vividly remember the day two sweet ladies from Infant Toddler Services walked into my living room to evaluate Riley when I suspected she had a speech delay. They were so kind and gentle as they evaluated her and they pointed out many positive things they saw in Riley throughout the evaluation. But in the end, they said Riley did have a speech delay significant enough that she qualified for speech therapy services. I naively asked the question I wish I never had...."She has met all her developmental milestones up to this point. Why would she suddenly be behind on this one? What could cause this?" "Well, speech delays are associated with autism and that could be one reason", they answered me. All at once the air was sucked right out of my chest. I couldn't breath. I couldn't talk. I couldn't think. On a cold December morning I sat there on my living room floor, Christmas lights twinkling from the mantel and a beautiful tree smiling down at us, and I slipped away from the lights, the hope, the one shred of happiness I had left. I slipped away from it all. Exactly one week prior I had delivered my sleeping baby. I was postpartum and still cramping and bleeding from the procedure. Exactly one week prior we found out Vickie's cancer had returned. And now this. But miscarriages, I could handle. Cancer, I could handle. My one miracle baby girl, the only one who made it into this world alive, the light of my life, my sweet girl having autism. That I could not handle. It was too much and I just slipped away. I'm still not completely back. The anxiety, fear and worry that "autism" caused this mother is more than I can describe. Riley was eventually evaluated at KU and by perhaps one of God's greatest acts of mercy and grace in my life, she scored within the normal range. They told me she was not autistic. Her speech blossomed with therapy and after just six months, she was discharged. Riley is still slow to come around with speech. She acquires new language skills on the tale end of the "normal" range according to developmental charts. I still touch base with her speech therapist from time to time to update her on Riley. She tells me Riley is doing great and being a little behind is fine, as long as the skills are coming. I only need to get concerned if she stops progressing. She has been out of therapy for a year now and she is progressing fine, on her own time. A study released in 2012, two years after Riley's birth, has sent shivers down my spine at the realization of the bullet we may have dodged.
A major study recently conducted by researchers affiliated with the UC Davis MIND Institute found that mothers with gestational diabetes are more likely to have children with autism and other developmental delays. When I came across this study I nearly had a panic attack. I had no risk factors for gestational diabetes when I was pregnant with Riley. I was not overweight. I was not obese. I had never been diabetic before. No one in my immediate family has diabetes. Unfortunately, diabetes runs strongly on my father's side of the family, effecting my grandmother, two out of three of my aunts and one of my cousins. I must have inherited the gene somehow. Exercise and healthy eating (ok not that healthy, but healthy enough :)) has kept me from becoming diabetic in my non pregnant life, but pregnancy is just more than my body can take. It pushes my diabetic-predisposed genes over the edge and I become diabetic while pregnant. It happened with Riley and I found out today it is happening again with this pregnancy. I am already sticking myself with a needle once a day to give myself medicine to help keep this pregnancy, I am already stressed to the max just worrying if this baby is going to make it. Now I will have to stick myself with a needle an additional three to four times a day to test my blood sugar and I will have the added stress of yet another pregnancy complication that adds to my high-risk status....even more doctors appointments, even more ultrasounds, more consults with perinatologists and nutritionists, a strict diet to adhere to....but even so, I could manage all that. The one thing that frightens me to my very core is this new study (found here) linking gestational diabetes to autism. Is this why Riley was late to talk? Will this cause problems for baby girl I am carrying now? Stupid, stupid genetics. I knew I was at risk for getting this again with this pregnancy. I have been on an anti diabetic medication since I became pregnant and I have been watching my diet so closely that I actually lost five lbs in the my first trimester and I have yet to gain a single pound in this pregnancy. I am 21 weeks and weigh less than I did when I got pregnant! I have done everything I could to prevent this but again I say, stupid genetics!
To my list of things to worry about I will add, will my baby have developmental delays or autism? "I can't do this I can't do this" I cry to myself. "I was so stupid to get pregnant again. I should have just been happy with the one beautiful, healthy child I have." Breath in. Breath out. "You can do this. You can do this. You have to." I do have to and I will. I was so well controlled with Riley. I ate perfectly and only had two blood sugar spikes after I was diagnosed. I exercised every day. I can do this again. Please, please God keep our baby girl healthy. Please protect her little brain from any harm. My baby is breech right now. I hope she turns so I don't need a c-section. But if she doesn't, while they are in there perhaps a little tying of the tubes is in order. I don't think I can ever be pregnant again...because I suck at having babies! To my sweet little girl, hang in there baby. I know it's tough inside mommy's messed up body. I'm doing everything in my power to keep you safe and healthy. The rest is up to God. Hold tight to Him little one. I don't carry babies very well, but lucky for us He does. He is carrying me right now and He is carrying you. Press into Him sweet one. Feel his nail scarred hands as they hold you, protect you, heal you and as they do the same for your mother.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Am I Dreaming?
20 weeks today. Half way there! I can hardly believe it. We have come such a long way. I need to pinch myself! I have been a little more relaxed since my last "episode" which resulted in a 8:00 am call to my doctor and an appt with her an hour later. Everything was perfectly fine. Baby was still growing perfectly, my uterus was measuring perfectly, I am just a little crazy is all. I saw a perinatologist today. While I was there I met with a genetic counselor who went over mine and Jason's family background. Because my sister was born with a whole in her heart and a condition called cardiomyopathy runs in my family she said we have a greater risk than normal of having a baby with a heart defect. So during my ultra sound with the perinatologist we took a good look at baby girl's heart. It looked great, no defects seen, at least nothing that can be detected by ultra sound. All baby's organs and anatomy looked good. Fluid was good, umbilical cord and placenta looked good. We looked over this pregnancy with a fine tooth comb today and I got an A+ and was sent on my way. Perinatologist said she does not need to see me back unless something else comes up that my OB thinks I need to be seen for. So to celebrate, my mom and I went shopping for the baby and looked at paint samples for the nursery. Ouch, I just had to pinch myself again.
I never gave up hope that I would have another baby one day. It was that hope that drove me to keep trying, keep searching for answers. It was that hope that kept me fighting through the grief, through the litany of painful physical tests, through the stress on my family, I just kept hoping and praying and believing and trying. But even so, there is a part of me that never believed I would be sitting here this pregnant ever again. It is truly a miracle. I feel this little girl kick and wiggle and move every day. I watch as I grow rounder and rounder and I really do have to pinch myself sometimes. How is this possible after so many losses? I don't even know what this is. For me, what I know is this, pregnancy ends in miscarriage, period. Yes, I have Riley who is also a miracle. But I thought I got my miracle and we are each allotted one per life time. I got mine, no more. I don't know how, or I have forgotten how, to be pregnant and actually have a live, healthy baby at the end of it. This is so foreign to me. Wonderful but foreign.
20 more weeks and our little girl will be here. I'm showing, I'm feeling her move, we are starting her nursery. It's really happening and it's not a dream. To the God who hears our prayers and gives us more than we could ask or imagine, thank you.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
I never gave up hope that I would have another baby one day. It was that hope that drove me to keep trying, keep searching for answers. It was that hope that kept me fighting through the grief, through the litany of painful physical tests, through the stress on my family, I just kept hoping and praying and believing and trying. But even so, there is a part of me that never believed I would be sitting here this pregnant ever again. It is truly a miracle. I feel this little girl kick and wiggle and move every day. I watch as I grow rounder and rounder and I really do have to pinch myself sometimes. How is this possible after so many losses? I don't even know what this is. For me, what I know is this, pregnancy ends in miscarriage, period. Yes, I have Riley who is also a miracle. But I thought I got my miracle and we are each allotted one per life time. I got mine, no more. I don't know how, or I have forgotten how, to be pregnant and actually have a live, healthy baby at the end of it. This is so foreign to me. Wonderful but foreign.
20 more weeks and our little girl will be here. I'm showing, I'm feeling her move, we are starting her nursery. It's really happening and it's not a dream. To the God who hears our prayers and gives us more than we could ask or imagine, thank you.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Going Crazy
It's 4:30 in the morning. I have dozed off and on all night but never really slept. I finally get out of bed at 3:30. In the quiet, still, darkness of my house while everyone else is asleep, I sit in my kitchen eating cereal and drinking orange juice while I quietly cry. I have vowed several times to put this fear behind me and move forward with this pregnancy in joy and happiness but it is becoming apparent to me that may not happen. This fear will just be my constant companion until she is born and as much as I long to experience the joy of this pregnancy, it is just so hard for me. For me, perhaps, the joy comes after birth, but not a moment before.
Two days ago I came down with the stomach flu. For an entire day I could not eat or barely drink anything. I checked my baby's heart beat and it was 168, high. My doctor told me anything between 120 and 160 is normal. Jason told me not to worry. It was probably just because I was a little dehydrated. She has been moving and kicking up a storm in response to my illness which was a little reassuring and also frightening. I do not remember feeling Riley move this much this early and I wonder if something is wrong that is causing her to move so much. Is she in distress? When I got out of bed at 3:30 this morning I checked her heart rate twice, 130's. Now it's low. And now she is not moving much. This is torture. When she is moving and her hear rate is high, I worry. When she is not moving and her heart rate is low, I worry. Any little thing, like an episode of the stomach flu terrifies me. I look at the clock and count the hours until I can call my doctor in the morning. I pray she will survive until then. I wonder if I am going crazy. Earlier this evening in a moment of exasperation my husband says to me, "I need a vacation! My parents are a mess, you're sick, you're pregnant, I'm missing work!" The toll is too much for him and I know I cannot burden him with this pregnancy or my fears any longer. Which means when I call the doctor this morning to see if she can squeeze me in before she starts seeing patients, I will not ask him to stay home with Riley, I will have to wake her up and take her with me. This is exhausting.
I hope I will find that I am just worrying for nothing when I see my doctor. I very likely am, but with my history I just can't be too careful. It's been 20 minutes since I drank my sugary OJ and ate my cereal. I check her heart beat again, 140. I think I am definitely crazy. But who loses six babies and doesn't become just a little bit crazy?
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
Two days ago I came down with the stomach flu. For an entire day I could not eat or barely drink anything. I checked my baby's heart beat and it was 168, high. My doctor told me anything between 120 and 160 is normal. Jason told me not to worry. It was probably just because I was a little dehydrated. She has been moving and kicking up a storm in response to my illness which was a little reassuring and also frightening. I do not remember feeling Riley move this much this early and I wonder if something is wrong that is causing her to move so much. Is she in distress? When I got out of bed at 3:30 this morning I checked her heart rate twice, 130's. Now it's low. And now she is not moving much. This is torture. When she is moving and her hear rate is high, I worry. When she is not moving and her heart rate is low, I worry. Any little thing, like an episode of the stomach flu terrifies me. I look at the clock and count the hours until I can call my doctor in the morning. I pray she will survive until then. I wonder if I am going crazy. Earlier this evening in a moment of exasperation my husband says to me, "I need a vacation! My parents are a mess, you're sick, you're pregnant, I'm missing work!" The toll is too much for him and I know I cannot burden him with this pregnancy or my fears any longer. Which means when I call the doctor this morning to see if she can squeeze me in before she starts seeing patients, I will not ask him to stay home with Riley, I will have to wake her up and take her with me. This is exhausting.
I hope I will find that I am just worrying for nothing when I see my doctor. I very likely am, but with my history I just can't be too careful. It's been 20 minutes since I drank my sugary OJ and ate my cereal. I check her heart beat again, 140. I think I am definitely crazy. But who loses six babies and doesn't become just a little bit crazy?
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Part Two
For two years I have been following the blog of a mother who lost her four year old daughter in a tragic car accident. I read her latest post today and couldn't help but share it and piggy back it on my own post from earlier today. She spoke straight to my heart today and said what I was feeling far more eloquently than I ever could.
Eyes on the Horizon
http://www.rachelsuzking.blogspot.com/
Why do I suddenly want to celebrate and share that our little baby girl is coming? Because I want to set my eyes on the horizon. I want to focus on the beauty made possible by this storm we have endured. I don't want the dark, ugly dirt under my feet to grab my attention and be my focus anymore. The trials I have endured were not meant to give me a spirit of fear. They were meant for my good. (2 Timothy 1:7, Genesis 50:20) We could spend our whole lives trying to figure out why bad things happen. We could spin our heads and never know all the answers. Until the day our glasses are removed we will never see the beauty in all its divine fullness. But I can finally rest in the only answer I do know to be true. Why did I have to endure the loss of six children....because in that pain God's glory is more beautifully reflected. How could a rainbow ever be so beautiful if not for the storm and clouds that make it possible?
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
Eyes on the Horizon
http://www.rachelsuzking.blogspot.com/
Why do I suddenly want to celebrate and share that our little baby girl is coming? Because I want to set my eyes on the horizon. I want to focus on the beauty made possible by this storm we have endured. I don't want the dark, ugly dirt under my feet to grab my attention and be my focus anymore. The trials I have endured were not meant to give me a spirit of fear. They were meant for my good. (2 Timothy 1:7, Genesis 50:20) We could spend our whole lives trying to figure out why bad things happen. We could spin our heads and never know all the answers. Until the day our glasses are removed we will never see the beauty in all its divine fullness. But I can finally rest in the only answer I do know to be true. Why did I have to endure the loss of six children....because in that pain God's glory is more beautifully reflected. How could a rainbow ever be so beautiful if not for the storm and clouds that make it possible?
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
The Age of Viability
I sit in my doctor's office yesterday having a conversation with my doctor's nurse. She asks me excitedly if I'm feeling the baby move yet. I think they want me to start feeling movement so I will be reassured and calm down a little bit. I tell her I have felt the baby move a little here and there but not like the big, consistent kicks and punches you feel when you get a little further along. She then says, "Well our next goal is to get you to viability. You can do it!". Viability, meaning 24 weeks, the age at which a baby can survive outside of their mother's womb. But just because they can survive at just 24 weeks does not mean that they all do and even the ones that do can have life long complications associated with being born so premature. No, as much as I want this baby safely out of me and in my arms, I know it is not time and 24 weeks is way too early. I suppose if it was deliver at 24 weeks or lose another baby I would of course deliver her, but I want more than that. I want her to grow safely inside of me all the way to term. No premature babies for us please. Six more weeks to go and she will be "viable". I admit it is a little reassuring to know that once I hit that milestone, if anything were to go wrong, she would have a chance outside of me. But I just wonder if this is even a conversation "normal" women have with their doctors. I hate it. I don't want to have this conversation. I just want her to stay safe inside me for five more months.
Viable. The definition of viable is capable of living. To me, this baby has been viable since day one. All of them have been. Maybe they couldn't survive outside the womb yet but they were capable of living. They lived for a few days, a few weeks, a few months and then they went to another place to live. But they still live on. They are still viable, capable of living in the heart of their mother. Our little baby life is capable of living. She is doing it right now :). And because all life is valuable and has meaning and purpose, I just can't hide this little life anymore. I announced on my blog I am pregnant and my whole family and many close friends know that I am pregnant. But we still have not really officially announced it. If a person does not know I'm pregnant, I don't tell them. I just don't really talk about it. But I don't want to hide this life behind my fear anymore. She is life. She is valuable. She is a gift. She is viable and she deserves to be celebrated. So I resolve from here on out to celebrate this little life. To tell people she exists. To talk about her. To plan for her. To have hopes and dreams for her. She is my darling girl and she deserves all that. I fear I may never know her. I have faith that I will. But either way it doesn't matter, she deserves to be celebrated. I am going to muster up all the courage I have and proceed as if there is no reason to believe she won't soon be here on this earth alive and well. I will still battle the fear, I know. But I will no longer allow it to stop us from celebrating that we have been given one of God's most precious gifts, children, and we have been given eight of them, six in heaven, two on earth. How blessed we are. Let's celebrate!
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
Viable. The definition of viable is capable of living. To me, this baby has been viable since day one. All of them have been. Maybe they couldn't survive outside the womb yet but they were capable of living. They lived for a few days, a few weeks, a few months and then they went to another place to live. But they still live on. They are still viable, capable of living in the heart of their mother. Our little baby life is capable of living. She is doing it right now :). And because all life is valuable and has meaning and purpose, I just can't hide this little life anymore. I announced on my blog I am pregnant and my whole family and many close friends know that I am pregnant. But we still have not really officially announced it. If a person does not know I'm pregnant, I don't tell them. I just don't really talk about it. But I don't want to hide this life behind my fear anymore. She is life. She is valuable. She is a gift. She is viable and she deserves to be celebrated. So I resolve from here on out to celebrate this little life. To tell people she exists. To talk about her. To plan for her. To have hopes and dreams for her. She is my darling girl and she deserves all that. I fear I may never know her. I have faith that I will. But either way it doesn't matter, she deserves to be celebrated. I am going to muster up all the courage I have and proceed as if there is no reason to believe she won't soon be here on this earth alive and well. I will still battle the fear, I know. But I will no longer allow it to stop us from celebrating that we have been given one of God's most precious gifts, children, and we have been given eight of them, six in heaven, two on earth. How blessed we are. Let's celebrate!
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
Friday, May 24, 2013
16 Weeks
16 weeks. This is the week I lost my baby in December 2011. On Monday this week, it hit me harder than I thought it would. I felt sad all day, thinking back to how at this same point in a previous pregnancy I lost one of the most precious things in the world to me, my child. At this point I was falling apart, overwhelmed by sadness and grief. At this point I sat in a hospital as my child was being ripped from me in a way no child should ever be taken from their mother. On Monday I was 15 weeks 6 days pregnant, the last time I heard my baby's heart beat in that previous pregnancy. I was just so sad this week and I just stayed in bed and cried. But on Tuesday, 16 weeks 1 day, I checked my baby's heart beat and it was there, thumping right along. on Wednesday I saw my doctor and had an ultrasound. Baby's growth is perfect, heart rate perfect and baby is very active, moving all over. And as a little gift to mommy on this very difficult week, baby let me know it is in there and not planning on going anywhere anytime soon by giving me a nice little kick, first one I have felt in this pregnancy. Oh the conflicting emotions I carry around, sadness and joy. Always one with the other. But some days one outweighs the other. Monday the sadness won. Wednesday the joy won. "I carry around a bucket in each hand. One is filled with happy. One is filled with sad. Some days they are held equally. Other days one outweighs the other." A story my therapist told me to help me process these dueling emotions I carry.
And so I have only carried one baby this far and I carried her on all the way to term and she is the light of our lives, Riley Grace. I can't imagine this one won't follow in big sister's foot steps and join us in this world, join in big sister's light to create a light so bright between the two of them that it will blind me. I think back to how this pregnancy began and I see all the ways God was so involved from before I even conceived. How He carried and sustained this baby through so much in those early weeks, the lack of life saving medicine that was needed and I couldn't get because of the snow storm, a frightening uterine bleed, a close family member's illness suddenly taking a turn for the worse. So much stress. I even remember emailing my specialist in New York, Dr. Braverman, and telling him I was sure I was having a miscarriage to which he replied, "It's OK. Without the medicine started on time it was unlikely we could have saved this one. We will get it started on time with the next one." I called my best friend at 9:00 am in the morning that day and asked her if she wanted to go out for mimosas with me. That's how sad and sure I was that I was miscarrying again. Thank God she was busy and I did not drink those mimosas because the next day I started the medicine and my HCG shot up and to every one's surprise I was still quite pregnant. "Unlikely we could have saved this one." What an awful thing to hear. But God is bigger than anything we can do or don't get done on time. I think about that all the time. How even my doctor thought this baby wasn't going to make it, but here we are with a beautiful baby kicking around in there. Miracles happen. I think about that on days like Monday.
So we move on, still scared and I know I will be until I hold this baby in my arms, but choosing to step out in faith each day. Choosing to love this little one with all my heart, like there is no reason to believe I could ever lose this precious child. 16 weeks has come and is almost gone and we have all survived it. Thank you God.
P.S. Our sweet miracle is another pink princess!!! I love you always and forever and no matter what baby girl!
And so I have only carried one baby this far and I carried her on all the way to term and she is the light of our lives, Riley Grace. I can't imagine this one won't follow in big sister's foot steps and join us in this world, join in big sister's light to create a light so bright between the two of them that it will blind me. I think back to how this pregnancy began and I see all the ways God was so involved from before I even conceived. How He carried and sustained this baby through so much in those early weeks, the lack of life saving medicine that was needed and I couldn't get because of the snow storm, a frightening uterine bleed, a close family member's illness suddenly taking a turn for the worse. So much stress. I even remember emailing my specialist in New York, Dr. Braverman, and telling him I was sure I was having a miscarriage to which he replied, "It's OK. Without the medicine started on time it was unlikely we could have saved this one. We will get it started on time with the next one." I called my best friend at 9:00 am in the morning that day and asked her if she wanted to go out for mimosas with me. That's how sad and sure I was that I was miscarrying again. Thank God she was busy and I did not drink those mimosas because the next day I started the medicine and my HCG shot up and to every one's surprise I was still quite pregnant. "Unlikely we could have saved this one." What an awful thing to hear. But God is bigger than anything we can do or don't get done on time. I think about that all the time. How even my doctor thought this baby wasn't going to make it, but here we are with a beautiful baby kicking around in there. Miracles happen. I think about that on days like Monday.
So we move on, still scared and I know I will be until I hold this baby in my arms, but choosing to step out in faith each day. Choosing to love this little one with all my heart, like there is no reason to believe I could ever lose this precious child. 16 weeks has come and is almost gone and we have all survived it. Thank you God.
P.S. Our sweet miracle is another pink princess!!! I love you always and forever and no matter what baby girl!
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Happy Mother's Day
Mother's Day can be a very difficult day for mother's who have lost a child. I remember several Mother's Days when I just felt so sad and depressed. I remember feeling so disappointed because no one gave me a Mother's Day card. Even after Riley was born it was still a little hard and there was a twinge of sadness underneath the joy. This Mother's Day is no different...joy and a thankful heart that I have been given Riley and another little baby to mother. Sadness for the babies I never got to meet and the reality that a beloved mother and mimi will soon be gone.
I have been so struck lately by how fleeting life is. Another thing I thought I knew, but now I really know. After watching my mother in law slowly die before our very eyes I sometimes can't believe just a few short years ago she was healthy and vibrant. Just a few short months ago she was still pushing Riley on a swing. Yes, life is fleeting and it can change in an instant. Oddly enough, this encourages me to live. Really live. Don't sweat the small stuff. Be kind to others. Don't judge. Always act out of love. Eat at fancy restaurants. Go on lots of vacations. Hug your little ones as much as you can. Have a picnic in your bed while watching Sesame Street with your kids and don't worry about the crumbs (I did that one this week!). Love your husband like crazy. Splurge a little. Drink really good wine. Sit on your patio and appreciate a beautiful, sunny day and the sound of your kids playing and giggling. Snuggle your little ones even when you know you should walk out and let them go to sleep. Sing them just one more song. Read them just one more story. Take it all in. Live it and enjoy it. Life is way too short and way to full of ugliness to let the good times pass you by.
So even though I was sad this weekend, I got a massage, I went shopping with a friend, I received with joy jewelry from my husband, I took in the sweet little three year old silliness of my daughter, I rejoiced for the little one soon to come, I visited Vickie and cried with her and loved her. I appreciated that I am a mother. I lived. To all you baby loss moms out there, my heart goes out to you. I know the ache you feel in your heart on this day. I know how you feel like an impostor for wanting to be recognized as a mother too. But hear this, you are a mother. You celebrate that you had your little one for as long as you did. You cry. You feel angry. You go shop and spend a little too much. You get through this however you have to. But the one thing you don't do is doubt that you are a mother and this day is for you too. Most of the world may not recognize you as a "real" mother, but God does and your baby does. And they are the only ones who really matter. Hang in there mamas. And don't lose hope. Next Mother's Day you may be holding a little one. One that screams to the whole world, "I am a mother!" and I can tell you, oh how much you appreciate and love and cherish that role once you have been through what we have. Life is short. Live it with all your heart. Happy Mother's Day to ALL the mothers out there!
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
I have been so struck lately by how fleeting life is. Another thing I thought I knew, but now I really know. After watching my mother in law slowly die before our very eyes I sometimes can't believe just a few short years ago she was healthy and vibrant. Just a few short months ago she was still pushing Riley on a swing. Yes, life is fleeting and it can change in an instant. Oddly enough, this encourages me to live. Really live. Don't sweat the small stuff. Be kind to others. Don't judge. Always act out of love. Eat at fancy restaurants. Go on lots of vacations. Hug your little ones as much as you can. Have a picnic in your bed while watching Sesame Street with your kids and don't worry about the crumbs (I did that one this week!). Love your husband like crazy. Splurge a little. Drink really good wine. Sit on your patio and appreciate a beautiful, sunny day and the sound of your kids playing and giggling. Snuggle your little ones even when you know you should walk out and let them go to sleep. Sing them just one more song. Read them just one more story. Take it all in. Live it and enjoy it. Life is way too short and way to full of ugliness to let the good times pass you by.
So even though I was sad this weekend, I got a massage, I went shopping with a friend, I received with joy jewelry from my husband, I took in the sweet little three year old silliness of my daughter, I rejoiced for the little one soon to come, I visited Vickie and cried with her and loved her. I appreciated that I am a mother. I lived. To all you baby loss moms out there, my heart goes out to you. I know the ache you feel in your heart on this day. I know how you feel like an impostor for wanting to be recognized as a mother too. But hear this, you are a mother. You celebrate that you had your little one for as long as you did. You cry. You feel angry. You go shop and spend a little too much. You get through this however you have to. But the one thing you don't do is doubt that you are a mother and this day is for you too. Most of the world may not recognize you as a "real" mother, but God does and your baby does. And they are the only ones who really matter. Hang in there mamas. And don't lose hope. Next Mother's Day you may be holding a little one. One that screams to the whole world, "I am a mother!" and I can tell you, oh how much you appreciate and love and cherish that role once you have been through what we have. Life is short. Live it with all your heart. Happy Mother's Day to ALL the mothers out there!
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Rainbow Baby
14 weeks. Good bye first trimester. Hello second. There is a sense of relief that I have made it this far. But since I did lose one baby in the second trimester I am not as relieved as I wish I could be. The fear is bad today and I don't know why. It just comes some days worse than others. I am checking my baby's heart beat with a fetal Doppler again this pregnancy. I am closing in on 16 weeks, my latest miscarriage happened at 16 weeks. These few weeks leading up to then are more anxious than usual. I remember checking that baby's heart beat for the last time. The heart rate was in the 140's, completely normal, and yet I had a bad feeling that it was too low. I just knew. So I guess it's no surprise this morning when I checked my baby's heart beat and it was in the 140's, I started to worry. I checked it again....130's. My mind went to the dark place immediately. I was right back there and I was paralyzed with fear. I checked it again 15 minutes later...back up in the 150's, a small sigh of relief, but still a call to my doctor's office where the nurse assured me that as long as it is between 120 and 160 it is normal and fine and even if it fluctuates that much it is still fine. Oh, how long can I do this? Well, I have to do it for six more months. I have no choice. I just want this baby here, in my arms, safe, at last.
I don't know how I have never heard of this before, what with all my miscarriages and my connection to rainbows. But I came across this for the first time yesterday, the term rainbow baby. A rainbow baby is a bay who is born after a miscarriage or stillbirth. The thought being that in order for a rainbow to appear, there must first be a storm. The rainbow doesn't mean that the storm never happened or that it is even over. But it means there is a gift, beauty, a reward for enduring the storm. Rainbow babies can only come if first there is a storm. I read this two days after my best friend sent me a picture of a rainbow she saw while on vacation with the simple words, "This made me think of you". It is so hard to be this afraid. I feel so weak, like such a failure for not having more faith, more trust in God. I pray, "Please God don't take this baby for lack of my faith." It is such a tormented place to be in. All I can do is move forward with the sheer hope and faith that this is my rainbow baby. The one that will come after such a long and devastating storm. The one that will bring beauty back into our lives and remind me that the storm was so worth it. Today is a tough day. Stay with me Baby Life, my sweet little rainbow baby, stay with me.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
I don't know how I have never heard of this before, what with all my miscarriages and my connection to rainbows. But I came across this for the first time yesterday, the term rainbow baby. A rainbow baby is a bay who is born after a miscarriage or stillbirth. The thought being that in order for a rainbow to appear, there must first be a storm. The rainbow doesn't mean that the storm never happened or that it is even over. But it means there is a gift, beauty, a reward for enduring the storm. Rainbow babies can only come if first there is a storm. I read this two days after my best friend sent me a picture of a rainbow she saw while on vacation with the simple words, "This made me think of you". It is so hard to be this afraid. I feel so weak, like such a failure for not having more faith, more trust in God. I pray, "Please God don't take this baby for lack of my faith." It is such a tormented place to be in. All I can do is move forward with the sheer hope and faith that this is my rainbow baby. The one that will come after such a long and devastating storm. The one that will bring beauty back into our lives and remind me that the storm was so worth it. Today is a tough day. Stay with me Baby Life, my sweet little rainbow baby, stay with me.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
A New Perspective
I have had conversations with several of my friends who freely admit to me that they have no idea what I am going through because they themselves have never really been through any major season of pain in their lives. They have never lost a close friend or relative, they have never experienced deep disappointment, financial struggle, abuse, etc.... Their lives have pretty much always gone the way they expected they would. They live on a completely different planet than I do. Just as I look at the starving people in under developed parts of the world. I can imagine on some shallow, surface level what it must be like to starve and to watch your children starve but because I myself have never starved I really have no idea what it is like to be in their shoes. I can't. It's impossible. To truly understand one's pain you must have walked in their shoes, maybe not the exact specific shoes I have been walking in, but the shoes of grief, disappointment, fear and confusion. Whether you are walking in those shoes because you have had several miscarriages or because your father just died and you are only 25 or because your wayward child has drifted so far from you and made yet another choice in their life with devastating consequences, whatever brings you to your walk in those shoes, once you walk in them, you get it, on a level the other people living on that other happy planet don't. Sure, we all live with the conscious awareness that we are blessed by the good things in our lives and we shouldn't take them for granted, but it is those who have lost those good things that truly get it. It is those that can say "I thought I knew back then, but now I really know". And you really know when you come home from the hospital after delivering your deceased baby and collapse on your stairs in tears and the only thought in your head is, "It's too much. It's too much. This pain is too much." You know you have officially left "Planet Happy" and moved to "Planet Something Awful has Happened and I Will Never Be the Same Again".
How do we navigate this new planet with terrain and environmental hazards we have never seen before and have no training in how to manage? I have learned, at least for me, there is only one way. Trust. You may know the story of Peter, the disciple of Jesus, who, by faith and trust, walked on water. Peter, along with the other disciples, is caught on a boat in a storm. The story unfolds like this, "Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear. But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.” “Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water." “Come,” he said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.” Matthew 14: 25-33.
Once you know this kind of pain, it haunts you, it disables your ability to trust. But if you can find it in your heart to step out in faith and trust, even when storm is all around you and the past shouts at you that you should never trust again, if you can chose to trust anyway, the sweetest reward awaits you. I chose to get pregnant, to try once again to have another child. Faith. I chose to buy a gift I saw in a store for my new baby when I was just 7 weeks pregnant. Trust. I chose to go shopping for maternity clothes when my pants got a little snug. Faith. I chose to let my mind wander to possible names for a boy or a girl. A step out of the boat. I chose to tell Riley about her new baby sibling. One step further out on the rocky waves. I chose to announce my pregnancy at just 11 weeks. One big step in faith and trust out even further onto the water. These are all minor activities for most people, but for me they go against the voice inside me saying, "Just wait. What if you lose this one too?" These choices take me so far from the boat I can't even see it anymore. My only choice then is to trust. And the reward for that trust is this. It is in few other places than the rocky waves where we must trust that we encounter Jesus on such a deep and personal level. The great thing about being out on the water, away from your boat, is it's where Jesus is. It's where you walk on water by His power. Out here on the water, my new home, there is a lot of thunder and lightning and wind. A past that haunts me and fears I can't seem to shake. I start to sink many times a day, but He is always there to catch me, to save me from drowning and pull me back to the surface. Even when I doubt and the fear takes hold, He is always there.
One day I will go back to the boat, that is both good and bad. But when I am back on the boat, I have a new perspective. My perspective is this. I know how precious life is and that it can be lost in a moment. I know how precious our health is and that one day you can get the call that you have cancer. I know what a gift my children are and I love them fiercely because of it. I know deep pain and anguish and because of it I can appreciate joy on a level many can't. I don't mean to disrespect my friends living on Planet Happy. Praise God that they are living there! But I pray that if and when they move to my planet, they will have hearts open to trusting God even when it hurts, that they will be brave enough to step out of the boat onto the water where Jesus is, that they will let Him carry them through the storm and that they will look at life with new perspective, perspective that can only be gained once you have lived on my planet, a perspective that knows how bad it can get and therefore feels the joy and appreciates the gifts that much more.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
How do we navigate this new planet with terrain and environmental hazards we have never seen before and have no training in how to manage? I have learned, at least for me, there is only one way. Trust. You may know the story of Peter, the disciple of Jesus, who, by faith and trust, walked on water. Peter, along with the other disciples, is caught on a boat in a storm. The story unfolds like this, "Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear. But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.” “Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water." “Come,” he said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.” Matthew 14: 25-33.
Once you know this kind of pain, it haunts you, it disables your ability to trust. But if you can find it in your heart to step out in faith and trust, even when storm is all around you and the past shouts at you that you should never trust again, if you can chose to trust anyway, the sweetest reward awaits you. I chose to get pregnant, to try once again to have another child. Faith. I chose to buy a gift I saw in a store for my new baby when I was just 7 weeks pregnant. Trust. I chose to go shopping for maternity clothes when my pants got a little snug. Faith. I chose to let my mind wander to possible names for a boy or a girl. A step out of the boat. I chose to tell Riley about her new baby sibling. One step further out on the rocky waves. I chose to announce my pregnancy at just 11 weeks. One big step in faith and trust out even further onto the water. These are all minor activities for most people, but for me they go against the voice inside me saying, "Just wait. What if you lose this one too?" These choices take me so far from the boat I can't even see it anymore. My only choice then is to trust. And the reward for that trust is this. It is in few other places than the rocky waves where we must trust that we encounter Jesus on such a deep and personal level. The great thing about being out on the water, away from your boat, is it's where Jesus is. It's where you walk on water by His power. Out here on the water, my new home, there is a lot of thunder and lightning and wind. A past that haunts me and fears I can't seem to shake. I start to sink many times a day, but He is always there to catch me, to save me from drowning and pull me back to the surface. Even when I doubt and the fear takes hold, He is always there.
One day I will go back to the boat, that is both good and bad. But when I am back on the boat, I have a new perspective. My perspective is this. I know how precious life is and that it can be lost in a moment. I know how precious our health is and that one day you can get the call that you have cancer. I know what a gift my children are and I love them fiercely because of it. I know deep pain and anguish and because of it I can appreciate joy on a level many can't. I don't mean to disrespect my friends living on Planet Happy. Praise God that they are living there! But I pray that if and when they move to my planet, they will have hearts open to trusting God even when it hurts, that they will be brave enough to step out of the boat onto the water where Jesus is, that they will let Him carry them through the storm and that they will look at life with new perspective, perspective that can only be gained once you have lived on my planet, a perspective that knows how bad it can get and therefore feels the joy and appreciates the gifts that much more.
I love you always and forever and no matter what.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)