Don't Ignore Infertility

"Riley!"  "Riley, stay over here please."  "Riley, please don't jump on the beds with your shoes on."  "Riley,  use your quiet voice."  A salesman approaches me, "Ma'am do you and Riley need some help?"  "Yes" I say, "We are looking for a bed."

I started looking for a big girl bed for Riley last December when I was pregnant and anticipating I would be moving her out of her crib to make room for the baby.  After the baby died, I kept Riley in her crib and have been procrastinating moving her ever since. Before she was even born I dreamed of her sleeping in that crib.  I brought my little baby home to that crib and she has slept in it for almost three years now.  For me, it's a big step to move her out of the crib.  It means she really is no longer a baby.  And if I'm being totally honest, after losing every child I have ever conceived with the exception of Riley, I battle the fear that something will happen to her too. Each night before I go to sleep I still feel her chest to make sure she is breathing, I still watch her on a baby monitor and I still use a SIDS monitor on her crib.  It just makes me feel better.  And after so much loss, a little reassurance goes a long way.  But you can't use a SIDS monitor on a regular bed, so I have been putting off the big move into the big girl bed.  But she's almost three and it's time.  So we go shopping for a new bed.  And as I chat with the 45ish year old salesman about coil count and durability and firmness he tells me that he has three children, a 29 year old, a 28 year old.....and a 5 year old.  "Yup, she was a surprise." he says and chuckles.  Seriously, this man and his wife in their 40's accidentally get pregnant and have a baby with no problem??  And then the knife right through my heart....he turns to Riley and says, "Riley, do you have any brothers and sisters?"  She looks at him like she has no idea what he is talking about and then repeats, "Broders and sitters?"  "No" I say to him, "It's just her."  "Well Riley tell your mommy she needs to get busy.  Every kid needs brothers and sisters!"  I can't believe I still purchased a bed from him.  And even more, I was nice and polite to him and didn't inconvenience him with my hysterics, but rather waited until I got home to start crying.  He has no idea how "busy" I have been trying to have babies for over four years now.  I have peed on hundreds of ovulation predictor kits and at least as many home pregnancy tests.  I have charted my temperature religiously.  I have been poked with needles more times than I can count.  I have agonized over a pink line and if it is getting lighter or darker than the one on the test I took the day before.  I have endured morning sickness and debilitating migraines all for the sake of babies I will never have.  I have stared at babies on ultrasound machines that I never got to meet in person.  I have never given up.  I have tried, tried and tried again.  I have pushed for tests that doctors are reluctant to order, I have traveled hundreds of miles from my home to see doctors, to find answers, to have a chance at hope again.  I have spent thousands of dollars.  And I have put myself back together every time I have lost a child.  If that's not busy then I have no idea what is.  

Unfortunately, this scenario isn't all that uncommon.  You would be amazed by how many strangers ask me when I am going to "give her a baby brother or sister", as if a baby is mine to give her.  As if I really have any say in that matter at all.  That is entirely up to God.  And why, oh why, do people say such stupid things?  If I have learned anything from this, I hope it is how to be a more sensitive person.  To know that everywhere around us, at the grocery store, on the interstate, at your kid's school, in Nebraska Furniture Mart are hurting people.  They may put on their make up and dress nice and masquerade around as totally happy, normal people.  But trust me, inside they are hurting and using a monumental amount of emotional energy to get through the exact errand that others may find to be so simple and just a part of their normal, every day lives.

RESOLVE, The National Infertility Association, is preparing for National Infertility Awareness Week beginning April 22.  The theme this year is "Don't Ignore Infertility".  I will be writing some posts on this topic in the coming months.  But for now, I would urge anyone reading this to do exactly that.  Don't ignore infertility, yours or someone else's.  Each day in the life of the woman struggling to have a baby is full of hidden land mines. She never knows when one will explode taking her completely by surprise and knocking her off her feet, taking the air right out of her lungs.  Strangers ask dumb questions, reminders of lost little ones pop up when least expected, new babies are conceived and born all around her while her womb and arms remain empty.  I read once that a survey was conducted that interviewed women who had experienced both infertility and a life threatening illness such as cancer.  Every women in the study rated her years of infertility as equal to or more painful and stressful than dealing with her life threatening illness.  This is tough stuff.  These women need time and space.  They also need love and support.   Know that each day could have been the day a salesman asked her why she doesn't have children (or more children).  Please don't ignore her.

I love you always and forever and no matter what.

Being Strong and Courageous

We are in the parking lot of a Chili's.  I am leaning over the backseat to get Riley out of her car seat.  I glance up and look through the windshield and see my husband meet my father in law on the sidewalk.  My father in law just looks at his son, says nothing and shakes his head back and forth.  Jason's head falls.  These two grown men stand there, heads town, eyes red and tears threatening to escape.  Before any words are said, I know.  We have been awaiting the results of these tests for weeks.  The latest treatment did not work and my mother in law's cancer is spreading.  We escape life for a few days and leave town, all of us together, my husband and in laws and Riley and I.  One little family with some pretty huge burdens to carry.

While crying our way through lunch at Chili's I receive a rather insensitive and upsetting text message from a friend who means well but just does not understand what we are going through right now.  Oh, and I have to board a plane in two hours.  I think we all know my views about the human body being 30,000 feet above the ground...it's dangerous and should never happen!  That's just my opinion.  I'm pretty sure we were the only people traveling with a child who carried a car seat on the plane.  Imagine a line of people trying to get to their seats in the narrow isle but they can't get by because Jason is haphazardly trying to secure the enormous car seat into a teeny tiny airplane seat.  He would just as soon let Riley sit in the regular seat....let my precious two year old teeny tiny baby girl sit unrestrained in a death machine (sorry for the dramatics) that will soon be catapulting us up to a place in the sky so high even birds don't fly up there, I don't think so!  Thankfully the rest of our weekend was not as difficult as those few hours at Chili's and on the plane were.  It was a weekend planned to celebrate good news or find some escape from bad news.  We were happy.  We were sad. We laughed.  We cried.  We were together, all weekend, our little family.

"Have I not commanded you be strong and courageous.  Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:9  Well I failed at that one.  I do every time I fly.  I try to be strong and courageous.  I try to not be afraid and I tell myself over and over again in my head that God is with us, watching over us, protecting us.  Then the voice enters, "If that's true then where was your God the six times you were pregnant and lost your babies?  Where is your God now that your only child's grandmother, who she is head over heals in love with, has cancer?"  "Get behind me Satan" I almost say out loud.  But then a mere bit of turbulence comes and my fight is over...."Jason" I say, "Get the stewardess over here now.  I need a drink!".  Isn't this how life is, we try so hard but when the bumps come we struggle, we question and we ask why, we turn to whatever we need to just get us through. 

Throughout the weekend I forced myself to think of things in light of my faith.  Six miscarriages.  Six unanswered prayers.  But how many times have I flown?  I can't even count all the times.  Definitely more than six, especially since I met my husband and his darn family that likes to travel so much (I love you dear Parkers! :) ) How many answered prayers is that?  Riley has fallen asleep and woken up safely every morning for almost three years now.  How many answered prayers is that?  Riley is perfectly healthy, growing, thriving and talking.  People once tried to scare us into thinking this may not be the case for her.  That's one huge answered prayer.  And the list goes on and on.  He blesses us abundantly, even on our darkest days.  We were never promised everything would go the way we wanted it to in this life.  And when I decided, when my mother in law decided, to give our lives to God we decided to let Him dictate our lives.  And we decided we would trust Him no matter what, even when it wasn't going the way we wanted.  I may not handle flying so well.  I am a nervous wreck for weeks before the scheduled flight, I am on pins and needles at the airport and it is nothing short of a panic attack as soon as we take off until the moment we land.  I may use anxiety meds and a few drinks to get me through (which, when timed just right, works quite well), I may not be strong and courageous as God commands, but I am strong enough and courageous enough to get on the plane.  To willingly and literally walk right onto one of my greatest fears.  Victims of cancer may not be strong and courageous every day.  But, at least the one I know (and actually I know two people I love who battle cancer right now) is strong enough and courageous enough to get out of bed every day, live her life bravely and boldly and all the while with a smile on her face.  We aren't perfect but we try.  We do our best.  And we thank God for His grace that covers us when we fall short. 

Fighting the Good Fight

Fight the good fight.  We've all heard that saying before.  But what does it really mean?  I have always attributed it to mean fighting for something worth fighting for, staying in the game, holding on when times are tough.  I said in my last post that I felt bad that this blog is rather depressing but there was nothing I could really do about it.  Six of my children have died.  That's just plain depressing no matter how you look at it.  But maybe I was wrong.  Maybe through my pain, through my struggle, through the words of my heart poured out on this blog there is some hope to be found, some joy to be found, some meaning and purpose that far exceeds anything that is of this world.

"Fight the good fight" originates, as many sayings we have do,  from the bible.  "Fight the good fight of the faith.  Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called when you made your good confession in the presence of many witnesses" 1 Timothy 6:12.  Somehow the last line of the sentence, "of the faith" has generally been dropped from the saying that most of us have heard.  But when I ponder this saying and think over the entire verse it brings new insight.  Admittedly,  I have not been fighting the good fight lately, or at least I haven't been fighting for the particular things I wish I could have been.  It's hard to fight the fight of faith when you are struggling just to hang on to it, your hands are soaked in your own tears and they are slipping.  Now you are holding on just by your fingers and they too are wet and slipping.  You feel yourself slipping further and further away and you are terrified you will lose your hold completely but there is nothing you can do about it.  You are trying so desperately just to hang on.  That is the fight I have been fighting.  Just trying to hang on.  Hang on to my daily routine, my responsibilities as a wife and mother, just trying to hang on to my faith.  I have never been much for New Years resolutions and even when I do make them, I rarely keep them.  But I suppose if I want to make one for 2013 it would be this, to get back in the fight of faith.  There's nothing wrong with fighting to hang on, fighting to just get by and survive.  That's part of the fight, part of the process.  But at some point you have to get back to fighting the good fight of faith.  So what does that mean?  It doesn't mean the fight to get through the every day pain and struggle that comes with my grief is over.  It is still very much here and is a battle I must continue to fight.  For me though it means that battle takes on a new form.  I must fight the one who fills my mind with lies and makes me believe I deserve the tragedies I have experienced, the one who makes me feel inferior and broken, the one who convinces me I am being punished for something, the one who fills me with fear to the point that I just sit and await the next tragedy, the one who makes me doubt that my God is big enough to handle this, to resolve this, to heal this, to redeem this.  I must lean not on my own understanding but on trust (Proverbs 3:5).  And it will have to be an all out war, one where I show up with my entire arsenal ready to fight, reaching out to take hold of the eternal life to which I have been called, reaching out for the eternal Jesus who I confessed my need for and gave my life to in the presence of two special witnesses.  The good news is, once I grasp Him, my fight is over.  He takes over from there and He will fight the battle for me, not just fight it, but fight it while He stands in front of me, protectively shielding me from the onslaught that will surely come. 

I am reading a book right now entitled "Get Out of That Pit" by Beth Moore.  The pit she describes has most certainly been my residence for over a year now.  A pit I was thrown into, not because of anything I did but because that's life.  And life has no shortage of events that can throw even the best of us into a deep, dark pit that we feel we may never escape.  I could quote many amazing insights from her book but for today I will focus on these two that have been especially profound to me.  In the book of Genesis there is the story of a young man named Joseph, whose brothers plotted to kill him by throwing him into a pit (a literal one) and leaving him there to die.  Beth says this of that story, "God did not haphazardly or accidentally let Joseph's brothers throw him in the pit.  He had already thought it out in advance.  Considered it.  Weighed it. Checked it against the plumb line of the plan. He had looked at the good it could ultimately accomplish, the lives that could be helped and even saved.  Then, and only then, in His sovereign purpose did He permit such harm to come to His beloved child. Had the incident not possessed glorious purpose, God would have disarmed it."  Wow.  Could it be that God has not just swiftly allowed Jason and I to miscarry six children, but rather He thought it over, gave it much consideration and looked at the whole picture which we cannot fully see.  He saw the good He knew He could bring out of it and then, make no mistake about this, He did not cause, but permitted the miscarriages to occur and these losses, my little babies, me, my grief has a glorious purpose.  Beth goes on to say, "If God allowed you to be thrown into a pit, you weren't picked on; you were picked out.  God entrusted that suffering to you because He has faith in you.  Live up to it.  All the way up."  God picked Jason and I and our children out for His special, glorious purpose.  He has so much faith in me that He believed I could handle the grief with grace, endurance and yes, even faith.  He wants to use me to accomplish His good in this world.  I have not suffered because He is mad at me but perhaps because I am even more loved by Him.  To know that God could trust me with not one, but six of his children.  He trusted me to carry them for all the days they had written, to love them, to go to bed every night with my hand rested on my stomach as I prayed for them, to fight for them when I knew something wasn't right, to graciously and thankfully accept one of His children into my arms, alive and well, and then to bless me with her amazing little presence in my life.  And to know that He trusted me to let them go and return them to their rightful Father when He called them, to grieve them, not perfectly but honestly, purely and openly and most importantly to honor and love God through it all, to find my way to a faith strong enough to bring glory to God in all situations, all circumstances.  To know He trusts me, loves me that much causes tears to stream down my face as I write this.  I think back to when this journey first began and you may remember how I shared the story of when God spoke to me through a rainbow and told me to trust Him.  It has taken me four years to see that the trust He spoke of was not just of me trusting Him, but of Him trusting me.  Him trusting that I would use this for His good.  What an amazing honor.  What else can I do but fight the good fight?  Hang on tight to my God. Find a way to bring glory to Him through this pain. And rest in His loving arms.  I love You always and forever and no matter what.  Tell my babies their mama has the same love for each of them and that I anxiously await the day I will see their sweet faces.  I anxiously await the day I will see my sweet Jesus.  Until then, I have a purpose and maybe, just maybe, I am on my way out of the pit. 

A Life Divided

I feel like for anyone who reads this blog regularly it must be incredibly depressing.  I feel kind of bad about that.  But I remind myself the purpose of this blog is not to be uplifting, but rather it is to share our journey, which is unfortunately a pretty sad and painful one.  This is my life and it is pretty messy right now.  So for those who are brave enough to continue the journey with us, here we go.

We celebrated Christmas.  It was actually, all things considered, a lovely day.  Watching Riley open her gifts and see how excited she was about them was an absolute joy.  My favorite moment was when she opened a Hello Kitty (her absolute favorite!) outfit from my sister and her husband and Riley held it up, looked at it with big eyes, shook her head slowly back and forth and said very slowly, in almost a whisper, "Beautiful."   But when the present opening was over and all the festivities were winding down, a sad feeling came over me.  Maybe it was my sadness over losing the babies, maybe it was the fact that we will soon get the latest news on whether or not my my mother in law's cancer is shrinking, maybe it was just all the build up for a holiday that comes and goes so quickly. But I felt sad.  Jason and I saw the doctor in St. Louis last week.  Our appointment pretty much confirmed all the information we already knew from our previous phone conversation with him.  We now just have to decide what we want to do.  If we are ready to take that leap.  The doctor is ready when we are.  We are still thinking it all over. 

We watched a movie recently, "The Words".  It is an amazing movie.  It confirmed many things I have already been thinking for a long time now.  People may wonder how a person becomes so sad, so different than what they once were.  The answer is simply this...life.  Life happens to all of us and there is nothing we can do to stop it.  Sometimes life is amazing and beautiful.  Sometimes life is tragic.  I have witnessed enough close family and friends go through tragedy and have faced enough myself recently to know this, we are all just one tragedy away from our lives becoming divided into what once was and what now is.  I once was a young, beautiful, happy girl full of life.  My life was divided by the death of my children.  I am not that person anymore.  But I am working hard to find my way to being a new person, one who has experienced tragedy but has not let it get the best of her.  Sometimes even I think I should just get over it, move on, just stop being so sad about it all.  But then I remind myself that my most recent miscarriage was just three short months ago.  For most women just one miscarriage like that would be devastating.  And I have had six.  Jason told me recently that it is like the scar on his hand.  When he owned his lawn and landscape business he dropped a mower on his hand and had to go to the ER for stitches.  It was a pretty bad wound.  It was deep.  And even now that it has healed and scarred over, though the pain is not like it once was, he still feels pain when he hits the scar just right, claps, or when his wedding ring presses into it.  My wounds are fresh.  They have not healed yet and the worst part is just when one starts to heal, I get another one.  My wounds will scar over and heal eventually, but I may never see a newborn baby and not feel a twinge of sadness, December 3rd may never come and go without me remembering it is the day my child died, finding out I am pregnant may never again be a happy time, but rather one of anxiety, just counting each day, each week as a success and as one day closer to the day my baby will be born and out of what may possibly be the most dangerous place it will ever be, in the womb of its own mother.  But with time, just like the old man in "The Words" perhaps I will find my peace with it all too.  Until then, I think about this,  a life lived without any trial, any testing rarely produces faith, perseverance, trust, insight.  A life lived with tragedy and hopelessness sometimes is the most perfect setting for God to work His greatest miracles. 

I love you always and forever and no matter what.

Adoption

The last thing I want to do is offend anyone but I feel like, in our situation, the issue of adoption is too big not to be addressed.  And before I share my feelings on the subject, I have to first say that I have two cousins who are adopted and they are more like siblings to me than cousins.  I know they were always meant to be in the exact family that they are in.  In fact, sometimes one of them will make a comment about being adopted and I think, "Oh yeah, that's right.  You're adopted!"  I really do forget that minor detail a lot because to me they aren't my adopted cousins.  They are just my cousins.  I love them dearly and can't imagine life without them. 

That being said, I am always shocked at how brazenly people bring up this topic with us.  Whether or not to adopt a baby is a very personal matter and not one I would discuss just off the cuff in casual conversation.  To be honest, it really offends me, hurts me and makes me feel hopeless.  Here's why...

1.  Adopting a baby isn't the cure all for infertility related problems.  Adoption is expensive.  It's a lengthy process and all too often you hear the sad stories of a failed adoption and parent's to be are left mourning the loss of a baby, just like they would if they had miscarried.  Adoption is a huge step and not as easy as people may think.

2.  People say, "Well have you considered adoption?" Well of course we have!  Who in our situation doesn't consider that.  It's not like we have never heard of adoption before.  But when people ASK us if we have thought about it, it really is just kind of insulting to our intelligence and it's really a passive way of them TELLING us that maybe we should consider adopting.  Which brings me to my next point.

3.  When people suggest adoption to us, I realize how hopeless our situation must look to outsiders.  They must secretly think there is no chance of us having a biological child and adoption is our only option.  I am hanging on to hope with all I have and those comments snatch it away so fast. 

If I had never had a biological child I might feel differently on this topic.  But I have.  I know what it's like to carry a baby, to feel a baby move within you and subsequently your heart does too,  to wonder if the baby will look like you or your husband and to watch that miracle unfold as you deliver and raise your child.  I think adoption is a beautiful and amazing thing.  I know it has brought many families together that would never be otherwise.  I never say never, because as soon as I do God has a way of making me eat my words, but I can say that presently adoption does not feel right in my heart.  It never has in the past and I do not anticipate it to in the future.  And Jason feels the same way. 

These adoption comments have been said to me since just after my first miscarriage which is just crazy considering how common miscarriage is.  I could have had two or three healthy kids after just one miscarriage.  If you are reading this and you have suggested adoption to us, I write this not to make you feel bad.  I know your hearts are in the right place and often times people just want so badly to help us and say something to make us feel better and give us some hope.  I write this to educate people.  Miscarriage is such a taboo subject and people do not know what the right thing to say is.  I can help people to know what the right thing is.  Just like you would not say to a grieving widow, "You can just marry a new husband", you would not say to grieving parents, "You can just adopt a different baby." It doesn't work that way.

There are many couples out there who feel pulled in their hearts to adopt and to them I say that is amazing.  I love that for them.  For us, it's just not so, perhaps for no other reason than this, if we had given up and adopted there would be no Riley Grace in this world.  And the world is definitely a better place for her being in it.  I feel in my heart the need to keep trying to have another baby with my husband.  When it works for us, it works beautifully!  Just look at our girl!  I'm not ready to give up on what God can create out of Jason and I just yet.  And if I am wrong and there are no more babies in our future, then we will find our way to peace and acceptance and we will be a content and happy family of three and we will shower our one baby girl with all the love in our hearts. 

Crazy Love

I have a saying I've used often since I met and decided to marry Jason...close your eyes and jump.  I knew when I married him it was a risk.  Marriage is always a risk.  Anything in life worth doing is a risk.  I knew there was no guarantee our life together would be perfect and there was no way to know what the future held.  But I had faith that whatever was in store for us, we would love each other through it.  We would survive it.  I could think of a million reasons to never get married but instead I chose to put my faith in God and in a man I love and close my eyes and jump.  We closed our eyes and jumped when we decided to start this journey we call having a baby, we closed our eyes and jumped when Jason decided to quit his secure job working for his dad and start his own agency and a few weeks ago when my sister got married, the last words I said to her before she walked down the isle were, "Close your eyes and jump." 

And so when I started this blog I vowed to be brutally honest.  There is no point in sharing this journey if it is not honest, open and transparent.  So here is the honest truth, a miscarriage is hard on a marriage.  Six of them wrecks havoc on a marriage.  Take into consideration that a man and woman grieve the loss of a baby very differently.  For a man it is sad.  For a woman it is devastating.  I carried the baby in my body.  I connected with the baby on a level a man will never understand.  I loved my babies from the moment I saw a pink line.  I had hopes, dreams and a future all planed out.  We were connected.  I grieve these losses much deeper and much stronger than Jason does.  Now imagine your husband is gone working late hours and you are on your own with a very "spirited" two year old.  I am tired, I am sad, I am just trying to get through the days that make up this season of my life.  And now, the real challenge, what if you both don't agree on how to proceed with your fertility problems.  It probably goes without saying that I am willing to go to the ends of the earth to have another child.  Jason is not.  I want more children.  Jason is completely content with having just one.  I don't care how much IVF and all the treatments cost.  Jason does.  I don't care what my body has to go through to have another child.  Jason does.  And a few nights ago, in the depths of my despair, I whispered to him in the quiet darkness of our room, "I want another baby".  His response, "I know you do.  But it's probably not going to happen.  The odds are just not in our favor."  And I physically felt my heart drop into my stomach.  Again, how differently we see things.  Dr. Sher told us our odds were 50/50.  To me that means just that, 50/50.  To Jason that means the odds are not in our favor.  Needless to say, the next day, a ferocious argument ensued.  It ended with me saying this, "You are all hypocrites.  YOU are a hypocrite.  You say you believe in a God who can do immeasurably more than we could ask or imagine, who loves us and wants to bless us, who can do anything and nothing is impossible for Him.  What is a miracle to us is simply the wave of a hand for God.  And then in the same breath you tell me this is impossible and not even worth trying."  Ouch.

The next day is Jason's birthday and despite our argument, we go out to dinner to celebrate and that's where it happens.  On his birthday I give him a pair of jeans.  And he gives me something more special than I ever could have imagined.  He slides across the table a red notebook.  I open it to the first page and it explains that back in March when we were on vacation in Mexico he decided to start writing down, every day, what he appreciated about me.  Some days it is just a few sentences and other days it is pages.  Some of his words are sacred, to be held forever in the hearts of just Jason and I, but I have his permission to share some of it...."My heart breaks for you", "You are the most deserving woman in the world of another child", "Thank you for being there with me for Grandma Parker's visitation and funeral", "I appreciate you", "Thank you for cooking dinner", etc....

And then dated December 6, 2012 is this excerpt from his entry, "I appreciate the way you give me a new perspective.  All this time you talk about how I need to be a rock of strength for you but when I look back it is you who has provided the courage and strength to push forward.  When it was time to get married, you pushed.  When it was time to buy a new house, you pushed.  When it was time to have a baby, you pushed.  When it was time to try for a second one, you pushed.  When we faced difficulty, you pushed.  You always said 'close your eyes and jump'.  All along the way you have reached back and grabbed my hand to jump.  If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, we will jump.  We will jump into the dead, dark, scary unknown.  While you have always been the one to push and I have always been slow to come around, now I will jump with you."

All this time I have been feeling so alone in this struggle and unbeknownst to me, my husband has been taking time to write every day and he has been noticing my pain and he cares.  He didn't know how to express it and this little red book was the only way he could.  And we are finally on the same page.  We are ready to close our eyes and jump, together, into whatever this endeavor to have another child holds for us.  It may be more pain and loss.  It may be more joy than we could ever ask or imagine.  But whatever it is, we will face it, hands clenched tightly together, two hearts joined as one hoping against all hope for a miracle.  Are we afraid of going down this road and what might be ahead?  Unequivocally, yes.  But Jason quoted this in the journal, "Fear never wrote a symphony, negotiated a peace treaty, or cured a disease.  Fear never pulled a family out of poverty or a country out of bigotry.  Courage did that.  Faith did that.  People who refused to consult with or cower to their timidity did that."

Our love has been shaped by tragedy.  Our love is flawed and bruised because of it.  But it's real.  It's enduring.  It's tragic and it's beautiful.  It's the delicate leaf caught in the whirlwind of a ferocious storm, twisting and tossing us every which way.  It's our love.  It's crazy love that causes two people to cling to one another, close our eyes and jump into the abyss, step out of the boat onto the rocky waves where our God waits for us, arms outstretched, waiting to catch us, no matter what happens.  My cup runneth over with crazy love.

I love you always and forever and no matter what. 

A Baby Changes Everything

I am babysitting a friend's son. He is asleep in the pack-n-play in my guest room and Riley is asleep in her crib.  Both kids napping at the same time, sweet relief.  I lay down, back aching, pounding head ache, exhaustion.  A nap is just what this pregnant mother needs to regain some energy before the kids wake up.  And before I slip off to sleep I listen to my baby's heart beat...for the last time.  That was one year ago today.

The nagging feeling that the heart rate was too low pulls on my heart the rest of that day.  I check it again the next morning...nothing.  I eat and drink orange juice and then lay down and try again...nothing.  I wait, wait, wait until the doctor will finally see me.  My baby has now been gone at least 24 hours.  And I am terrified.  We finally get to see the doctor.  Our friend's daughter's first birthday is this day.  I remember thinking we could still make it to the party.  I still hang on to the hope that it will be a quick in and out appointment where they will find the heart beat and tell me I am overreacting and send me home and we will go about our day and attend the birthday party.  The appointment is not quick.  I am not overreacting.  We miss the birthday party.

A baby changes everything.  Yes they certainly do.  We've all heard this saying before and a baby, whether it's a fleeting spark of life or a healthy baby born into your arms, changes everything.  That day, one year ago, that baby changed everything.  I went home to a house decorated from top to bottom for Christmas.  I love this time of year, which makes me so angry because now I don't like this time of year so much.  Christmas is a sad time for me now.  I lost a baby at Christmas time.  I was due to have a baby just a few days ago, one I miscarried back in March.  The death of one baby and the due date of another lost one are just days apart.  On my tree hangs a new ornament this year, one in remembrance of my babies, especially my Christmas one.  And what's worse is that Christmas is a holiday about a baby being born.  Reminders of a baby in the Christmas music, in the nativity scenes, in the story of Christmas.

But if a baby changes everything, never was there a baby who changed everything more than baby Jesus did.  He snuck into this world in the form of a human child on a star lit night and changed everything for every single soul forever more.  Born into a world of dirt surrounded by animals, such a meek beginning for God's only treasured Son.  He took on the pain, agony and heart break of this world all for the sake of love.  He lived a life of love.  He died a gruesome death on a cross to save others, his death was a death of love.  His love in the form of a baby changed everything.  I spoke to a friend recently and I told her this of all my babies...each of them has changed everything, for there are now six eternal beings in heaven who would never be there if not for love, the love Jason and I have for each other, the love God has for us.  One of my favorite Christmas songs is "A Baby Changes Everything" by Faith Hill.  The lyrics speak straight to my heart.  Although our stories are very different the emotion is the same.  A young girl is with child and she is scared.  She cries, oh how she cries.  And then she delivers a baby who changes everything and then Mary lost that child one day.  Oh how she cried, how we both have cried.  But Mary's loss was temporary and because of the baby she carried we all have hope of being reunited with the ones we have loved and lost.  I know this is not what everyone believes, but it is what I believe. 

That same sweet girl whose birthday party we missed last year turned two this past weekend.  I made it to the party this year.  Riley and I sang her Happy Birthday, watched her open her gifts, blow out her candles and Riley ate a lot of the cake she had been begging me for since we got there.  But in my heart was an ache that I could not get rid of.  It has really been a year since we lost you little one.  How I wish I could have held you, seen you, kissed you, watched you grow, wiped your tears and tickled your tummy.  You changed everything and each passing day is one day closer to the day I will get to see you, hold you, kiss you.  And each passing day is one day closer to the day I will see the baby who makes that possible.  Sweet baby, I love you always and forever and no matter what and God, I am trying, despite the pain and doubt and fear, to love you always and forever and no matter what. 

Faith Hill singing live "A Baby Changes Everything"

The Story of the Baby Who Changed Everything