One Year Old

Leonard would be one year old now. His birthday party would have been a few Saturdays ago. Family and friends would have joined us as we celebrated our son’s first year of life. We might have had a Thomas the Train themed party. I might have tried to make a cake – I probably wouldn’t have done a very good job. But we did not have a one year birthday to celebrate. Instead of a party, I have a heartache.

It’s been a year and a half since we lost Leonard and a little over a year since we lost Sam, both in miscarriages. We now have a son who is four months old and I love him more than I could have ever dreamed possible. He’s absolutely amazing. His sister loves on him like crazy. My family is wonderful and I am so very thankful for our family of four.

But my heart still aches.

It is hard to walk past the classroom of one year olds on Sunday morning.

It is hard to see little toddlers at the park or at Chickfila, trying to walk and play with the big kids.

It is hard to see a year old little boy at the grocery store sitting in the seat and chatting away.

It is hard to not cry.

I don’t cry every day any more. Time does soften the pain of loosing a child. Tears are never far away. I can not imagine they ever will be. There may be a day coming that I don’t tear up when I hear the name Leonard. There may be a day coming that I won’t remember how old he would have been. That may happen down the line but today is not that day. Today, my baby would have been a year old. Today, my baby would be learning to walk. Today, my baby could have a spoonful of honey. Today, my heart cannot handle the pain.

 

My Son

Today someone asked me how many children I had. I said two. I told her about Amelia, my two year old who is bright and funny and adorable, and I told her about Eli, my 7 week old who is starting to grin a little bit and sleeps really well at night. I felt a tiny pang of guilt for saying I only have two children. Truth is that I have four children and two are in heaven.

Often when someone asks how many kids I have I reply with “I have four kids. Amelia is 2 years old, I lost Leonard and Sam in miscarriages, and Eli is 7 weeks old.” There is so much silence about miscarriages and I don’t want to add to it. I want to be a voice that says you are not alone after loosing a child. Tomorrow will come after you’ve lost a child. I want to support women who have felt this pain and be a part of the movement, even if it’s a small part, to remove the silence. One way I do this is by saying I have four children. People usually pause for a moment when I reply this way, unsure of what to do next. Sometimes they offer condolences. Sometimes they ask questions. Sometimes they respond with their own story of loss. Usually, people respond by recognizing that I’m a regular person with a messy life just like everyone else. Every time I reply that I have four children, I help raise awareness about pregnancy and infant loss. And so I’ll continue to do it.

But I don’t always say I have four kids. Sometimes, I say I have two. Sometimes, I don’t want to be genuine and open and honest with anyone who asks. Sometimes, I want to be a regular person with a non-messy life. The problem is that regular people don’t have non-messy lives. They have messy lives because life, real life, is messy. It comes with tears and heartache and tragedy and loss. It comes with wild emotions and hot tempers. It also comes with joy and laughter and hope and romance and all sorts of wonderful things that are also pretty messy.

Tonight as I nursed my sweet Eli before bed, this painting caught my eye. It was a gift from a dear friend after I lost Sam. My conversation from earlier in the day came to mind as I looked between this painting and my sweet, breathing, living little boy. I am so grateful this little guy here in my arms. I sure do miss my little guys that have already gone on ahead, though. Tonight, I held Eli a little bit tighter. I kissed his forehead a moment longer. I have four children.

Bravely Growing Family

Judy Ross is a brave mama who opened her heart and home to all her children, biological, adopted, and fostered.

__________________________________________

I don’t feel brave very often. I mean, I like to think that if the situation presented itself, that I would do something courageous, like saving a pedestrian from an oncoming car, or going into a burning building to save a child, however, life rarely presents us with chances like that.

Sometimes, though, bravery is born out of necessity. For instance, soon after my second son was born, I found out that I was pregnant again. I certainly didn’t feel brave, I mostly felt scared and overwhelmed. Then, I miscarried, and I felt guilt and shame. Partly because I hadn’t even gotten used to the idea of being pregnant and actually “wanting” that baby yet, and partly because I felt that I could have done “something” to prevent the miscarriage. Statistically, I couldn’t have, but still the feeling persisted, but, I had to go on with life and the boys that needed me.  God provided just enough bravery to get through the days. One at a time.

A couple of years later, my husband and I decided that we were done having children, and took certain measures to make sure that we were permanently done. But God had another plan for us.

Four years later, He began leading us toward adoption. As we searched and found out more information about adoption, it was clear that it was God’s plan for us. However, we weren’t brave enough. We were inundated with feelings of fear, anxiety, and inadequacy. So we quit.

That lasted three, long, miserable days. We certainly weren’t suddenly brave at the end of those days, but we were completely convicted that we needed to act despite our fear. He gave us just enough bravery and provision to get through that adoption. One step at a time. We were just brave enough to answer the questions of, “Why start over, now?” as our youngest was already nine and halfway out of the house. Just brave enough to admit that we didn’t have enough funding to get through each step. Just brave enough to not quit despite all of the roadblocks. Just brave enough to continue when the adoption process lasted a full year longer than anticipated. Just brave enough to get through the wait, no matter how long it took. And, of course, our beautiful Hannah was worth the wait.

Then God called us toward adoption again. Were we brave enough to take a chance? This time, we thought that we had it all together, and felt plenty brave. Our baby was due in just a short month, and we rushed to get it all together. Two weeks early, we got the call that our newest daughter was on the way! Keith was out of town, so I hurried, alone, to the hospital to be by birthmom’s side.  A few hours later, I held our sweet baby in my arms. She was perfect in every way, and it felt surreal as I held her. Then, life once again changed in an instant when the nurse took her from me only 20 minutes later. Forever. She went home with her birthmom, and I never saw her again. Needless to say, all feelings of bravery went out the window as I left the hospital with both my heart and arms aching for the daughter I had only known for a short time. But, God gave me enough bravery to go on. Just enough to get through the days of despair and grief.

Fast forward one more year. And one more try. Were we brave enough for foster to adopt? No. No way. Well, maybe. Ok, yes. Just brave enough to allow ourselves the ability to be hurt again for the chance to adopt. God gave us enough bravery to open our hearts to try again. But, were we brave enough to take a baby born addicted to drugs? Oh, the “what-ifs” cast plenty of fear in our hearts, but God made us brave enough in that moment to say, “Yes.” Five days later, we brought home a beautiful baby boy from the hospital. We were faced often with fear and anxiety as the parents would make contact, then fail to show up, only to make contact again. It was a gut-wrenching time wondering if he would be ours for a short time, a long time, or forever. But God gave us enough bravery to get through each court date, every call, and each update.

Nine months later, and we are on our way to adoption with just a little over a month to go. Was it easy? Did we feel brave and confident while we waited for the birth parents’ rights to be terminated? No. Do we still fear that in the next thirty days someone from his family could show up and petition the court for adoption? Absolutely. But God gives us just enough bravery to make it through. And regardless of the outcome in November, God will make us brave. Not excessively brave, that we will be able to say that we can sustain ourselves, but just brave enough to know that Our Father is all that we need.

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Part 2

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month, and I am writing a three-part series on the topic with the hopes of contributing to the national conversation going on. I believe stories are powerful things, so last week in Part 1, that’s what I shared. You might forget statistics and facts. You might argue beliefs and opinions. But stories stick. They linger and take on a life of their own. So I did that last week. Even though I share my story often, it’s still a difficult thing for me. I do it anyway, though, because I want to encourage others who have been in similar situations. Also, I share my story often because I think it shines a light on Jesus. I’m mostly weak and helpless, but God can do mighty things through my life because of who He is. That is pretty evident in my story, I think.

If you do nothing else this month for PAIL Awareness, tell your story to at least one person. You don’t need to change your profile picture to the pink and blue filter. You don’t need to plant a tree in honor of babies lost. You don’t need to go to a rally with a sandwich board sign and raise awareness. All of these things are good, but all you need to do is open up and tell your story. That will be just as powerful, if not more powerful, than anything else you can do.

But what about when someone else loses a child? What do you do then? I can almost guarantee you know someone who has dealt with this in one form or another. One in four pregnancies end way too soon, and I’ll bet someone you are close to is that one person. How do we deal with that? How many casseroles do we make? Should we send cards? Flowers? When dropping things off, is it better to make a quick exit because she probably doesn’t want company or to stick around and be a shoulder to cry on? Should I watch her kids for an afternoon? Does her laundry need washing? Should I volunteer to do something for her or wait for her to ask for help? Do I ask questions to let her know I’m available to talk or keep quiet so I don’t seem nosy? Does she need a girls’ night out? Would a girls’ night in be better? Does she need chocolate and wine? Will wine make her cry because a week ago, she couldn’t have it for happy reasons?

Let me tell you, after having gone through this twice now, I’ve got some experience under my belt with these sorts of things. I’ve learned a thing or two about grief. And I don’t know the answer to any of those questions. Go ahead, roll your eyes. I am again asking questions without having answers. Well, sorry not sorry. These questions are worth asking even if they can’t be easily resolved.

Truly, every situation, every woman, every moment is different. I could make you a list of 14 Things to Never Say to a Mama Who’s Grieving or 10 Things to Give a Grieving Mom but that doesn’t address the real issue–how to deal with other’s grief. Lists give us something tangible, something measurable. I can do this, that, and this other thing and BOOM! Grief dealt with! Except it’s not. The pain is still there, sitting right next to the casserole, flower vase, and cards. The doctor’s words still echo in the silent moments alone, and no amount of casseroles will make it stop. So what do we do? How do we deal with it?

The truth is you don’t. Only time can ease the heartache that she feels, and all you can do in the meantime is flounder through trying to be there for her. Please bring a casserole. Please write her an encouraging note. Offer to do her dishes or her laundry. Offer to take her kids for the day. Invite her to dinner for a girls’ night out or invite her over for a girls’ night in. Be flexible with your time when you stop by so you can stay and listen or skedaddle. Please, please, please do all of these things. They are important because they (A) meet real needs that she and her family have, (B) tell her you love her and care for her, (C) help her to make it to the next moment, and (D) encourage her that she’s not alone. These things don’t really address the heartache, but they are important. Do them. But also know that you are just doing things and things don’t heal wounds.

So here’s the bottom line:
Pray for her. Pray for peace beyond understanding. Pray for room to grieve. Pray for comfort.
Pray for her husband and family. Pray they have the right words at the right time. Pray for comfort; they’re in pain, too. Pray for abundant grace in the home. 
Pray for yourself. Pray for the wisdom to know when to stay and when to go. Pray for the Lord to speak through you. Pray for a good, delicious recipe.
Pray for her community: her neighbors, her friends, her extended family, her coworkers. Pray they are gentle towards her, whether they are aware of the situation or not.

Above all else, pray for healing. Our Lord is Jehovah-rapha, the God Who Heals. 

Psalm 147:2-5

² The Lord builds up Jerusalem;

    he gathers the exiles of Israel.
³ He heals the brokenhearted
    and binds up their wounds.
⁴ He determines the number of the stars
    and calls them each by name.
⁵ Great is our Lord and mighty in power;
    his understanding has no limit.

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Part 1

“When a child loses his parent, they are called an orphan. When a spouse loses her or his partner, they are called a widow or widower. When parents lose their child, there isn’t a word to describe them.  This month recognizes the loss so many parents experience across the United States and around the world.  It is also meant to inform and provide resources for parents who have lost children due to miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy, molar pregnancy, stillbirths, birth defects, SIDS, and other causes.

Now, Therefore, I, Ronald Reagan, President of the United States of America, do hereby proclaim the month of October as Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. I call upon the people of the United States to observe this month with appropriate programs, ceremonies, and activities.”

Ronald Reagan on October 25, 1988

I have started this post about a hundred times over the past month, wanting to have something valuable to contribute to this national conversation about pregnancy and infant loss. But I don’t seem to know what to say. I am 1 in 4 but that doesn’t help you understand what I’ve gone through.

I’ve lost 2 children in miscarriage. I have 4 sisters-in-law, a mom, a step mom, and a mom-in-law.That’s a total of 8, including myself, adult women in my immediate extended family. Statistics say that out of those 8 women, 2 of us have experienced pregnancy or infant loss but that’s not reality. Reality is that 4 of us have dealt with it in one form or another that I know of. If we extend our statistics base to my extended family including cousins and aunts and such (a total of about 30 women) I can count at least 10 that have lost a child. Don’t zone out on me because of all those numbers. Stay with me a little bit longer. 
These are the losses that I know of. The number may be higher but not everyone talks about it. Not everyone tells others when it happens. The truth is that some women choose to walk through it alone. I get that. I was tempted to keep it to myself when we lost a child for the second time. I chose not to and I think you need to know why but I’ll need to start at the beginning for you to fully understand why.

Several years ago, before my husband and I were married but after we were engaged, I went through chemo and radiation. It saved my life. As a result, I wasn’t able to have children because the treatment had done too much damage. I knew it was a possibility going in but it was well worth the risk. I was alive.

After recovery, growing a little bit of hair back, and marrying the handsomest man alive, we started seeking out fertility treatments. We tried several different methods but nothing worked. Finally, after much prayer and frustration, we gave up.

It was not a defeated giving up, though. It was a God’s-got-this giving up. It was a why-are-we-stressing-about-this giving up. It was burden-off-my-shoulders giving up. My husband and I came to a point where we had nothing left within our own power to do without pouring all of our money into a treatment that may or may not work and decided to give it up to Jesus instead. It was ultimately His decision whether we would have biological children anyway. No matter how much money we spent on medical treatments, God is the ultimate Physician and it was up to Him to make it work or not.

So we stopped doing everything. We stopped all the pills, all the doctor’s appointments, everything. It was the first time I can remember that I felt real peace about what our family would look like in the future. That was October 2012. November 2012 we got pregnant. December 2012 we found out we were pregnant. August 2013 we held our baby daughter in our arms for the first time.

I didn’t really believe it was happening for a while. I needed to hear the heartbeat for myself before I believed it was real so by the time we knew (and believed) we were pregnant, it was almost the end of the first trimester, which is when most people tell others so we told everyone right away. I thought that if more people knew, it might feel more real to me. We put it on Facebook, we called family members, we basically shouted it from the rooftops! Not only was I pregnant after being told I would never be able to have kids, but my body didn’t look one bit like it had had radiation except for a few outside scars on my skin. On the inside, I looked like a normal healthy mid-20s woman. It was a miracle. We would be able to have more kids!

The pregnancy went very smoothly. The birth wasn’t perfect–nothing ever goes according to plan–but it was pretty dang close. I got pregnant again when my daughter Amelia was about 10 months old. This time we were watching for the signs so we knew we were pregnant pretty early on. I made my first appointment with the doctor, got a sonogram, and announced it on Facebook. We assumed it would all go super smooth like the first time.

It didn’t. We lost Leonard at week 10. It was heartbreaking. Absolutely heart wrenching. Nothing I have ever felt compares to the loss of a child.

It happens 1 in 4 pregnancies, my doctor told me and in my mind, that meant we had 2 more pregnancies to go before we might face this again. After  the D&C, we waited 3 months and tried again. Once more, we got pregnant right away and knew we were pregnant early on, at week 5. We went back and forth about whether to announce it right away like we did with Amelia and Leonard. If we announced it and then lost the baby, we’d have to deal with telling everyone again that we were not longer pregnant. I wasn’t sure if I could handle having to say it all again. Ultimately, we decided to announce. If we didn’t and then lost the baby, we would be dealing with a miscarriage alone and that seemed much worse than having say we had lost another child. So we told some close friends and family but before we had a chance to tell anyone else, I started cramping. Bad. We lost Sam at 6 weeks, only one week after finding out about him.

Two months later, about a week after what would have been Leonard’s due date, we discovered we were pregnant yet again. We discussed whether to wait until 12 weeks before telling anyone but quickly decided it was better for others to know. This was not something I could face without support. After telling close family and friends, we posted his first sonogram on Facebook. He was really really tiny.

Now we’re in the counting-the-days stage of pregnancy with Eli Augustus, Augie for short. We have the crib set up and the diapers ready to go. He’s almost constantly moving around. He’s much more active than Amelia was and he responds to her voice with a swift kick to my lungs. I cannot wait to hold him in my arms and see his sweet little face.

We are planning to have more children after Augie, as many as God will give us, and that means we may loose some more babies. I hope we never experience that again but I know that statistically, it’s very possible. We plan to announce each and every pregnancy, no matter how early. Now that you know my story, I hope you better understand my reasons.

1. I need support through the first trimester. I was a wreck during week 6 and week 10 with Augie. I was terrified I’d loose him too. Then I was afraid that my stress over possibly loosing him would be the cause of another miscarriage. So I started worrying about worrying too much. It was a convoluted mess of emotions and nonsense. Having friends sit by me and say “I understand. I remember this feeling exactly,” and having friends come alongside me to pray with me, cry with me, talk with me even if they didn’t understand what I was feeling, that made all the difference in the world.

2. I believe that life begins at conception and I want to celebrate that life no matter how long it lasts. Leonard and Sam were alive and life is something to rejoice in.

3. I am a broken person living in a fallen world who is saved only by the grace of God. I am not plastic or surface level. I do not live in a protective little churched bubble. I am a real person with real issues and real heartache. If I hide my struggles and my weaknesses, it is harder for others to see my need for God.

4. I have a voice and I can use that voice to raise awareness. Other women have lost babies and felt alone, isolated, guilty. I want to be apart of the movement to bring pregnancy and infant loss out of the dark so that women know they are not alone. They are loved and surrounded by others who do know what they are going through. I was amazed at how many ladies told me they had lost one or more babies after I began openly talking about Leonard. Women I had known for years and never knew they struggled through this.

I know we all deal with things differently and if you make a different choice than me, that is okay. I would even say it’s a good thing for your major life decisions to look different than mine. We aren’t cookie cutter people who all need to make the same choice for that choice to be right. But this is the decision we’ve made, the decision that is right for our family. We are going to keep getting pregnant as long as God allows. We are going to keep being open and honest about where our family is. We are going to be ready (as ready as we can be) for what God has in store for us.

Thursday Stories – Collection of a Brave Life

     In Spring of 2010, my father in law was diagnosed with lung cancer. My in-laws lived in rural Ohio at the time, and we live near Houston. Jack’s doctor wanted to surgically remove the tumor, but we weren’t so sure and wanted him to come to Texas to be seen at a top cancer treatment center in Houston, MD Anderson. I can’t even say that we prayed extensively about this, we just knew that having him come to Texas was the right thing. We urged him to come, and both he and my mother-in-law came down to stay with us while he got a second opinion. Cancer diagnosis and treatment is not simple, of course, and in the end they were with us for three months.

     All that time, so much was different in our household, and everyone was so brave. Jack, most of all, showed bravery by meeting every doctor, every nurse, every technician, every treatment with a smile, a kind word, and a chuckle. When we weren’t at MD Anderson, he was working from “home”, where he had set up his office in my kitchen. Rarely was a complaint heard from this man. My kids were brave; they weren’t used to Mom being gone so much as I accompanied my my in-laws to the various appointments, but they handled it wonderfully by helping out more than usual and giving up summer activities without complaint. My mother-in-law helped with the cleaning and missed her home so badly that summer. My husband worked his job as usual that summer and spent many evenings visiting with his parents and supported me in any way he could. As for my part, I had to be brave too, I drove dear Jack downtown every day for 3 months for radiation treatments. At least once a week we stayed all day so he could have a doctor’s visit, chemotherapy, and blood work done too. As stay-at-home mom, being gone so much was very new to me and to the rest of the family. My life felt very topsy-turvy that summer.

     Our family was very blessed by this whole experience. Jack was one of the most patient and kind men I have ever known, and I am so glad that my kids and I got to know him so much better that year. He never got terribly sick while with us and caregiving was not a big issue. His tumor did disappear that summer, and he continued to visit us every three months for check ups. In Spring of 2012, his tumor reappeared and he was advised to get treatment at home this time. He passed away in December of 2012. We will always remember his ability to smile and relax in the face of adversity, and his many quips and quotes. The time he spent in our home and with our children has truly enriched us.

     If you ask me, bravery comes when you do what needs to be done. When you don’t want to but are willing because you know it’s right. I did not really WANT to host my in-laws for an entire summer, giving up the normal school-break fun and activities, and spending countless hours in a cancer treatment center instead. But what I wanted didn’t matter. Bravery just happens because life happens. There is no need to go seeking opportunities to be brave and courageous, they will find you! You don’t need to climb mountains, face giants, or rescue victims to prove you are brave; there are lots of regular-looking folks around you facing unseen battles and being silently courageous.

     I think that when faced with a difficult decision or situation, the only way to deal with it is to draw strength from the One who gives it and to forge ahead. Make sure you are on the right path first, but that is usually obvious. Throughout my life as a Christian, God has given me plenty of opportunities to be brave. Some situations, I can say I met bravely, sometimes I cower and hesitate. I guess my thought on bravery is this–when facing difficulty, trial, fear, there is only one way to deal with it. Get through it. You can do this with or without leaning on God, you can do this with or without leaning on His Word and the Holy Spirit and the love of Christ. You can go it alone, which is also brave, but is more difficult. You can do it with Him and know that you will be stronger for it. The little saying, “If God brings you to it, then He will get you through it” is not scripture, but it’s a quick little reminder to lean on Him in hard times.

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Cheryl Hochstettler has homeschooled her 5 children for the last 19 years. She first trusted
in Jesus at the age of 20 when attending an outreach ministry. She loves to cook, feed
friends, and teach her children. She is involved in meal ministry at her church, providing meals for church family in need. Cheryl and her family moved from her home state of Ohio to the great state of Texas in 2001. Cheryl teaches history at a homeschool co-op in Sugar Land, Texas, with a group of wonderful friends and fellow teachers. She and her husband, Patrick, have been married for 26 years. They like to bicycle together and would like to travel when their children are older.

Thursday Stories

Today’s story is from a fellow MOPs member, Abigail Castro. Her story hits close to home for me. I hope you are encouraged by her bravery!

Stories from San Antonio

When I think of my life I have had many opportunities to be brave for Jesus: sharing my faith with my peers and strangers, going on mission trips, financial giving, loss, the list continues. But I would have to say the situation I have had to be bravest and struggled with the most with Jesus would be with my fertility. Strangely enough my journey with infertility began with a pregnancy eight months after getting married, but quickly ended in miscarriage. I am one of five children and loved being a part of a large family, so naturally I have desired to have children of my own. Having a miscarriage was big loss for me. To lose a little life left me broken-hearted. We waited a few months and then began to try for another child. Six months – nothing, I wasn’t too worried. A year, nothing. Though I knew it could take time for some couples, I expected pregnancy to happen easily for me because all of my family members were very fertile. So every month that passed after a year, I became more anxious and turned more towards myself.

Finally we went to my doctor to investigate what may be causing me to not become pregnant. I had to have a surgery to rule out certain possibilities which led to the discovery that something unique was indeed occurring with my body. I have a unicorniate uterus which is half a uterus. This causes it to be difficult to become pregnant and hard to maintain a full pregnancy. This again worried me. I turned to my anxiety as if it gave me some sense of control. Researching my condition and trying to figure out how I could get pregnant became a daily routine. It seemed like everyone around me was getting pregnant, which discouraged me. I compared my insides to their outsides and wondered if I would ever get pregnant or have children. My focus was more and more that I am broken and my body doesn’t work. I felt desperate. I struggled with culturally embedded messages that if only I were good enough I would get what I want and life would be easy. Even though I knew this was false, I still continued to fight these thoughts. It seemed every month that passed, the more desperate I felt. I wasn’t stopping to consider God might have something for me to learn during this time. But God graciously kept loving me and drawing me to him. One night while journaling, God spoke to me. He said, “Abigail, if I don’t give you a child will you still love me?” I cried and cried and said, “Though I would be sad Jesus, I would still love you.” To me, God wanted me to desire Him above all, love Him above all and change my focus. I wish after this incident I could say I surrendered it all, but that’s not true. I still clumsily muttled my way through my desire to have children and giving that desire to God and loving His heart first. As I mentioned before my focus was on me and what I could do.

After three years, I finally surrendered. I tried everything I could in my power. I applied for a teaching position and the morning of my interview I found out I was pregnant. Fear and excitement swept over me. I was excited about possibly having a child and afraid I would lose it. I decided that worrying wouldn’t really help me keep the baby and it would steal my joy. I had to be brave for Jesus and with Jesus. A verse that really calmed me during this pregnancy was Philippians 4:6-7 “Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything; tell God your needs and don’t forget to thank him for his answers. If you do this you will experience God’s peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand. His peace will keep your hearts quiet and at rest as you trust in Christ Jesus.” (New Living Bible Paraphrased) Every time I would feel fearful I would run to God, I had to do this daily! I had a beautiful baby boy nine weeks early which presented more struggles, but so much joy!

Parenthood is a whole new journey for me. I have hard times and easy wonderful times. I am learning that it is just one more area that God meets me and I can grow. In all, I am thankful for my struggle because in my struggles I grow closer to God. I was changed through this struggle and I learned more about my relationship with God, areas and ideas that God wanted to change in me. Jesus Christ saved me from the depths of my sin and made me free! I am able to know, learn, grow and love my brave Jesus through all life’s experiences. I will end with a verse from Romans 5:3-5 “We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials for we know that they are good for us- they help us learn to be patient. And patience develops strength of character in us and helps us trust God more each time we use it until finally our hope and faith are strong and steady. Then, when that happens, we are able to hold our heads high no matter what happens and know that all is well, for we know how dearly God loves us, and we feel this warm love everywhere within us because God has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with his love.” (New Living Bible Paraphrased)

My grandpa used to say, “Hun, thank God for the good and bad because he uses both for his glory.” He certainly does. He not only uses the good situations in our life but the bad to shape us, and make us more brave for Him and His purposes.

Thursday Stories

Today’s brave story is from a fellow blogger named Sera. Her blog, Prone to Wander, Lord, I Feel It is a joy to read. Head on over there and check out some of her amazing posts!

Stories from the Interwebs

For as long as I can remember, I have always been afraid of someone I love dying. I think it started as a fear of no longer being able to see someone and has since become no longer seeing them because they died. My first memory of this fear planting a seed was when I was in grade school. My parents were a little late to pick us up from school one afternoon and as my sisters and I sat waiting for them, I saw a plane fly overhead. All of a sudden, I started silently crying because this bizarre thought popped into my head that my parents were on that flight and I would never see them again. It wasn’t true; my parents came shortly after the plane flew away. I was young. It was an irrational thought.

Nevertheless, even though it was irrational, it has stuck with me throughout my life. While growing up, I feared losing my parents, my siblings, my cousins, my friends, my future children, and my husband. Before my husband and I got married, while we were still dating, I remember some nights when I would wake up in the middle of the night in sweats, panicking, and frantically texting him to make sure he was still alive. In the first few months of our marriage, there were times when I would be hesitant to let him go to work or to the grocery store because I was certain he would die from a freak car accident or a school shooting (he worked at a college). I would lay awake at night, consumed by my fears and in tears while he held me, comforted me, and spoke Truth back into my heart and mind.

Things changed in September 2014 when my fear came true.

My husband Matt and I found out we were pregnant on our wedding anniversary and after the initial shock of “we’re going to be parents?!”, we were thrilled and became instantly head-over-heels in love with our baby who we found out was about the size of a poppy seed. We downloaded several apps to help us keep track of our Little One’s growth and every night, as we got ready for bed, we thanked God for the gift of life and prayed that our baby’s body was growing and developing the way the apps said they should. We planned, started picking out names, and learned as much as we could about pregnancy.

Our worlds came crashing down when we went in for our first ultrasound. As we sat in the waiting room, I knew something was desperately wrong. There should not be that much bleeding this early (or ever) in a pregnancy. My husband and I sat in silence in the waiting room, holding back tears amidst the handful of joyful couples smiling and talking quietly amongst themselves. When our names were finally called, we went to the examination room and they found no heartbeat. Our baby had died two weeks previously.

Matt and I have never felt such crushing pain as we did from finding out we had lost our child. Not only did our baby die, our hopes and dreams for a future with our baby also died. (As I reflect now, I’m discovering that a miscarriage is a strange thing. Before we had our miscarriage, we knew of maybe two people who had had miscarriages. After we told our miscarriage story to the public, we received dozens of messages and emails from people telling us “we’ve been where you’ve been.”)

My heart has always been ministered to through songs and the weeks following our miscarriage, one of the ways I grieved was through songs. I searched out and listened to both Christian and secular songs that had any reference to a miscarriage. I found songs with lyrics that spoke my heart and I played them on repeat until I found the next song that reflected where I stood in my grief.

I remember the first time I realized how my fear of losing a loved one to death had come true with the death of our baby. It was a few days after the ultrasound and I immediately became more afraid, then angry, then devastated. And the fear gripped my heart even more. The days following the miscarriage, I was terrified of leaving Matt’s side. In my warped, exhausted, grieving state of mind, I was convinced that since God let our baby die, there was nothing stopping Him from letting my husband die, also. God was surely against me in that way. I was sure of it. Why else would He take our baby from us? I didn’t want to, but I lived with this extreme fear and twisted mindset for three months after the miscarriage. Every night, in my despair, I prayed that the fear would leave me and that I would not let it reign over my mind.

One day in mid-December, I was sitting at work and streaming Pandora on my phone. A song came on that I did not recognize but a few lyrics caught my attention: For You are for us, You are not against… You make me brave. I looked up the song lyrics and relistened to the song as I read the lyrics. As I listened and read, things started making sense in my brain.

“…King of Heaven, in humility, I bow as Your love, in wave after wave crashes over me, crashes over me. For You are for us, You are not against us – Champion of Heaven You made a way for all to enter in. I have heard You calling my name. I have heard the song of love that You sing. So I will let You draw me out beyond the shore into Your grace.
You make me brave, You call me out beyond the shore into the waves.
You make me brave, no fear can hinder now the promises You made.
You make me brave, no fear can hinder now the Love that made a way.”

As I listened to the song on repeat, revelations were being made to me, things I had never really thought of before. God was for me, He was not out to get me. I was so afraid after the miscarriage that I was sure one of God’s goals was to make me as miserable as possible. This song reiterated things I had heard but had not really taken to heart. God is for me. God is on my side.

As I read and heard those lyrics, a flood of other Truths and Promises came flowing back into my heart and mind: I am a conqueror and co-heir with Christ (Romans 8.17); Nothing is able to separate me from God and His love for me (Romans 8.38-39); God was right there with me through all of it – the miscarriage, the grief, the fear (Deut. 31.8); God will be with us in our future, whatever that holds.

Daily, I’m in the process of retraining my brain and my heart to be brave and not to be afraid – of the big things and the little things. Some days it’s more of a battle than others, but my battle cry (which sometimes is boldly proclaimed and other times whispered in despair) has become “He is for me, He is not against me” and “He makes me brave.”

Sera

Some Days — Guest Post

Today, I had the pleasure of sharing a guest post about miscarriage and the God I serve on my friend Suzanne’s blog Surpassing Greatness. Head on over there to read more!

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Some days, I feel normal.

Some days, I don’t cry.

Some days, I forget that only one of my three children lived through pregnancy.

Today was not one of those days.

Today, I cried.

Today, I remembered Leonard.