Return To Sender

“I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong. And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God.   Ephesians 3:16-21

  With the hoiday season can come a lot of jokes about  packages that come to our homes that we would like to, well, return to the sender. These packages might contain the ugly Christmas sweater from Grandma, the Jelly of the Month club from a friend, or the ever so popular fruit cake that seems to always be sent by a distant aunt.
     Out of the spirit of the season we usually do not ( at least I hope you don't) return these items to where they came from, because we know that it is "the thought that counts" ( that and your aunt thinks her fruit cake is truly the best thing ever!). We pack the sweater in a box in the back of the closet and we let the the new jelly that comes each month stack on top of the one from the month before in our pantry. Oh and the fruitcake? If you are smart you re-gift that one quickly! None of these things are harmful or impact our lives too much, except to take up more space in our house.
     This made me think, what do we do with the things that come our way that are harmful? What are these things? Maybe it is hurtful words from someone you care about, maybe it is unwanted and un-deserved judgment from others, maybe it is gossip about you at church, work, or even amongst your family. Maybe it is the low self esteem that came with your job loss. Maybe it is years of pain and guilt from a loss.
      We all have experiences from time to time when someone has hurt us deeply or feelings come as the result of a difficult situation and we don't know what to do with them. If we allow hurtful words, negative thoughts, self doubt and feelings of unworthiness and rejection into our lives, they will just keep stacking up in the pantry of our hearts filling us with resentment and causing us to be insecure about who we are, and more importantly who are are in God.
     So what can we do when we are struggling with difficult circumstances, judgment, hurtful words or actions from others? Return to Sender.
     Now, that does not mean respond in the same way you were treated. It means do not take ownership. Do not allow untruths to enter your heart and gradually stack up. Face each situation that and make a choice not to take ownership of someone else's words or behavior. Decide not to let the divorce you are facing, the job that you lost, or the family who rejected you define who you are.
     If you define yourself in what others feel about you, the job you have, how much money you make, or how perfect you life looks to others, you will ALWAYS be grossly disappointed. But, if you look to God to find your value, you will always be complete.
     So, on Christmas when the fruit cake is opened, the Jelly of the Month is grape (yay!), and you so badly wish you could send the sweater (along with all the others ones Grandma has sent) back, refrain from doing so. But if you find yourself unable to feel much joy during this time of year,when you are facing difficult times, return those thoughts and feeling to the sender. Remind yourself who you are in God and just how valuable he knows you are.
     If it is not of light then it is not of God. If it is not of God, then it is not good enough to dwell in your house, in your mind, or in your heart. Send it back.

The Valley

 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Psalm 23:3

     Psalm 23 was the message on Sunday morning. It was the perfect message for the situation my husband and I were about to walk into that afternoon, though we didn't know that message would mean so much a few hours later. I won't give details as to not sway people feelings, but I will say that we went into a situation expecting a peaceful resolution, and instead what we walked into, was a direct attack. I will say that never has any person spewed so much hatred toward me. My husband and I walked away knowing that it was the end of what had been a very important relationship in our lives and in the lives of our children's.
     At first we both felt numb. The verbal attack was so unexpected that it pulled the rug right out from under our feet. But, as we headed home we began to realize a few things. One, the outrageous claims, accusations, and bitter name calling was really this person's feelings about them self and it was being projected at me. Not one thing said about me even remotely reflected the person I am or the life I live.  Two, when you are in a valley in your life, a valley being a place where you are going through a difficult time,( as we have been working through healing from our loss this year), you are vulnerable and more likely to be attacked. Your personal growth and happiness that comes from spending time in a valley and working your way out is a threat to others. After all you know the saying, mmisery loves company. We sought counsel from our pastor both before and after this meeting and feel that we truly have done all we can. We cannot allow those words to impact our lives, nor can we allow these attacks to continue.
     It would have been easy for me to spend the week feeling sorry for myself. I could have allowed those words to pierce my heart and I could have convinced myself they were true or that others must feel the same. But Psalm 23 promises me that during these times I do not wander the valley alone, but I am protected by God during these times. I must look towards him to protect and restore me.
     I have many friends wandering int heir own valley right now as well. Some are unhappy at home, or work, or with their marriage. Some have lost jobs and loved ones. It really is up to us as individuals to decide how we allow what happens in the valley to effect us. We can either be beaten down further and lose sight of the One who promises to be with us, or we can, in the words of one of my favorite authors, Beth Moore, " Place our ear against the chest of the Savior so that when troubled times come, so you may not know what will befall you, but you can hear the steady pulse of the boundless love of Him who holds you.

I Can't

     I am compassionate about most things and towards most people. I make an effort to not hold others to the same expectations that  I hold myself. I have pushed through so many difficult times, that " I can't" is simply not in my vocabulary. One things that is so difficult for me to hear others say is, " I can't change this situation" or, "I can't do that".
      I didn't think I could live through losing a baby the way I did, but I choose to, and I became better for it. I didn't think I could get healthy and get in shape when all I really wanted to do was lay on the couch and feel sorry for myself. I did, and I have lost 50 pounds to show for it. I certainly did not think that I could run a half marathon, but a few weeks ago  I ran one and I finished. I crossed the finish line with a pulled tendon in my right foot, bloody blisters, and two lost toe nails ( I feel like a freak of nature with no toe nails, Akkkkk!!!).  Around mile ten I was crying through the pain. But I refused to stop.
     The point? None of those accomplishments were without some pain along the way.
     I am thankful for how far I have come, and sympathetic to those who find themselves stuck. I sometimes find myself stuck working through certain emotions that I still struggle with. I have to remind myself that not everything comes immediately and some things are simply on God's timing, not mine. 
    One thing I know is that nothing is permanent and anything can change if you truly want it to. None of us are predestined to a life of unhappiness, we choose it for ourselves.
     If we are willing to take a leap of faith, trust God to see us through, heal from our losses, get off the couch, and maybe incur a few injuries along the way we can come to a place where we are no longer living  a life of unhappiness and mindless routines, but a life of passion and a live where WE CAN.

Highs and Lows

He heals the broken-hearted and binds up their wounds. Psalm 147:3 (NIV)
  
      If going through all of this has taught me anything, it is that there is no rhyme or reason to how one moves on with their life after a loss. As unique as each individuals experience is, so is the healing process. I am not entirely convinced that healing ever really takes place. I think it is more of an acceptance and deciding to learn how to live with the loss. Maybe I am wrong and healing really does happen, and I just do not know what that feels like yet.
     Much of my blog is upbeat. Most of the time I am upbeat and see the silver lining even in a situation such as mine.  Even during my difficult moments I usually carry a smile. If you saw me and asked how I was I would smile brightly and tell you I was fine, even if I am holding back a lump in my throat.
     But, I would be doing an injustice to those who read my blog that are looking for support due to their own miscarriage, abortion, or loss of a child, divorce, etc., to only speak from a positive viewpoint and hold back the struggles I still have and the lows I sometimes feel. Sometimes things just, well, they just suck.

     I wish it was as simple as avoiding circumstances that trigger painful memories, but life goes on and if I am going to live, then I am going to come across circumstances that are difficult. After a while, when a person does have these lows, you tend to not share them with anyone. I know for me, often I don't even bother telling Richard. I don't want to be a broken record. There isn't much that he or anyone can do during these times so I just keep it to myself.

     No one can fix the void I feel when all my friends are sharing in the births of their little girls, passing down tutu's, headbands, nap nannies, and bassinets. It was supposed to be me too. We all would have had babies within a year and a half of each other. I had plans for pink tutu's, frilly headbands and stockings all to be shared amongst my closest friends. I feel like I am missing out on this great bond with my friends. It sucks.

     There are other circumstances that trigger low moments.  For example, after someone asks me if Richard and I plan on having a fifth because they just recently met us and they don't know our story. They don't know we did have a fifth. I always smile and say, " No we aren't having anymore. Our family is complete". Then there are times I have to dodge questions about why I am not planning on a fifth to replace the one we lost. Why? because that baby wasn't planned, it was a surprise, a pleasant surprise. I am not simply going to choose to replace it in a effort to fill a void. I feel like carrying  that void is my only way of holding onto a piece of what was not to be.
     So, I allow myself the time I need to process these moments and try to move through them as fast as possible. I do not think that there will ever be a time in my life when certain circumstances, dates, or questions, will not trigger the memory of that baby and the circumstances that surrounded the loss.

     I hear from women all the time that say, "It has been twenty years and I always think about the baby on what would have been it's due date", or " Twice a year surrounding the dates I lost the baby and what would have been it's due date, I always have a few days of sadness and a few tears are shed".

     If you are like me or one of the many women who have reached out to me since I started this blog, allow yourself the time you deserve. Do not think that because it has been two months, two years, or twenty years, that you should have forgotten your loss. Your loss will always be a part of the person that you are.
     Allow yourself time to mourn and to reflect on what was lost and then, reflect and be grateful for the blessings you have today.

Thankful

So cliche, I know, but as I was out yesterday braving the crazy lines at Publix, ( I forgot bread, ugh!), I was making a mental list of what I was thankful for this year. This year of course is so different then last year. I still find myself staring in a daze from time to time when I try to comprehend everything that happened this year. Still, what is done is done and in spite of it, I am here.

I am thankful for the little things, you know, the ones you take for granted. I am thankful for the endless hugs and kisses that my kids have waiting for me at any given moment. I am thankful for the way Samuel's nose feels pressed up against my face when he kisses me goodnight. I am thankful that there is never a night my head hits the pillow without my husband's arm around me. I am also thankful he has his own comforter so he no longer hogs the covers from me. ( He will tell you that I am really the blanket stealer. It is all lies!)

I am thankful for friendships. Without them I would be lost. I am thankful for old friends and for the new friendships I have developed over these last nine months. I can't believe the number of people that have come into my life and how fortunate I am to be their friend. My life long friends have cried with me, cried for me, and have never asked me to justify or explain myself. They have been so much more then just ears to listen or shoulders to cry on, they have been life lines. My new friends have greatly enriched my life and brought out a new person in me by inviting me into their lives. I cannot imagine all the fun and laughter I would have missed out on had I never met them.

I am thankful for having the peace that surpasses all understanding. Losing a child isn't peaceful, but knowing that baby is in heaven is. I find comfort in knowing that that baby is with my grandparents, with my husband's father, and more importantly with God.

I am thankful for new beginnings because we get one each day. It doesn't have to take losing a baby, a loved one, or a devastating event to have a second chance. Each day is our second chance. We are never guaranteed to have another so take what is given to you.

So, while the holidays this year are slightly bitter sweet, they are more sweet than bitter. While a hole in my heart still lingers, the strength from my husband, the laughter of my children, the love of my friends, and the grace of God,  make that hole ever less painful.

Changes

    He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.”  Mark s:34 (NIV)

As I have said before in other posts, people who experience a tragedy in their lives through loss are given a special gift, it is a take on life that is different then anyone else around them. Suddenly, you find yourself reevaluating how you spent your time, your energy, and maybe even your money.
     Soon after I lost the baby, I knew that I wanted a clean slate. I could no longer pour energy into unhealthy relationships, spend my time doing things that I wasn't passionate about, and allow my kids to have a mom who wasn't functioning at full capacity. What little energy I  had was going to be directed at my family and other close meaningful, healthy relationships, working hard to make my house a home again, and no longer just exist, but live again.
     My therapist warned me when I began this journey that I was no longer the "old Sabrina". She prepared me for the fact that I  was going to "piss people off" ( I was just amazed those were her actual words). Wow was she right! But, I began to realize that when others disapproved of my decisions or were angry at me for beginning to set boundaries with them, it meant that I was going in the right direction.
     Changing is never embraced well. In fact it is usually outright rejected. Once I got past the difficulty of standing my ground, each issue I faced got easier and easier to deal with. After years of people pleasing, I had learned how to say, no. Success!
     When I came home from the hospital I spent hours in a daze just watching my kids play.  My every thought was consumed by the baby and the way I was forced to end it's life. I was also consumed with the fact I almost didn't make it home to the children playing right in front of me.
      I often hear it said that "almost" doesn't count. I would argue that almost dying, is when "almost" does count for something. I thought a lot about what legacy I would have left behind for my kids had I died. I would have left them with the memory of a mom who was overworked, stressed, unhappy, and caught up in family dysfunction and drama that was time consuming. Thank God I had a second chance to change this!
     The memory I would have left them with then, is not the mom I am today. It took all of this loss, hurt, and guilt  to bring me to a place where I stopped doing what I thought I had to do, and started doing what God wanted me to do.
     I returned home to my children and got my house and our lives back in order.  I let go of trying to control life around me ( it certainly was not working anyway). I stopped trying to get family to love or accept me. Instead of allowing toxic relationships to continue, I drew a line, a boundary if you will. Those boundaries may not have been received well, but they have brought my home much needed peace. I am learning to stop allowing the disapproval of others to define who I am.
     It has been a long eight months, full of a lot of ups and downs. I am a realist. I know there will be more to come. What drives me is knowing that I am choosing to make everything I went though count for something. I was the only one who felt that baby. Yes it was my husband's loss as well, but it was my void in my body. No one but God can comfort that type of emptiness.
     So every Thursday when I leave my therapist's office, I know that I am closer and closer to being healed not only from the loss of the baby, the abortion, the pain, the guilt, but from so much more. Everyday I get a little bit stronger.
     The baby's 14 weeks were not in vain. Those fourteen weeks changed my life forever.
  

Saying " I'm Sorry"

Jesus knew their thoughts and said to them, “Every kingdom divided against itself will be ruined, and every city or household divided against itself will not stand.  Matthew 12:25

     After seeing one of my recent blog posts posted on a mutual friend's facebook site, I got a messgae from someone I have not spoken to for close to a year. She had been a good friend and we have known each other for five years. Despite the concern that I could possibly reject her efforts, she reached out to me after reading of my loss.
     My heart skipped a beat when I saw her message and I quickly responded. Within minutes we were on the phone. Before I could allow our conversation to go to far, there was something she needed to know, I was sorry.
      Right before I found out about the pregnancy I had been struggling with health problems, working too much and trying unsucessfully to manage my home life. I I was trying to be Superwoman and I was terrible at it. I was miserable.
      My friend would try to get me to open up about how I was doing and my response was always, "I am fine, everything is fine". I was embarassed to tell her I wasn't "fine", but afraid that if I let the words come out of my mouth that I would no longer be able to hold it all together. Instead I pushed her away and she got the message.
     When I lost the baby, I thought of her. I wished I could call and tell her, I knew she would be comforting. But she didn't even know I was pregnant, and how do you call someone and say, " Hey I know I was a jerk, but let me unload this tragic event on you so you can make me feel better"?
Still, she stayed on my mind throughout these difficult months. At  times I would wonder how she was and how her family was doing. I started seeing her pop up on my " People you might know" section on  Facebook. Then when I started therapry, twenty plus miles form my house, I actually parked next to her car not knowing she worked next to my therapists office. God was onbiously not going to let me forget this unfinsihed business and relationship that needed to be mended.
     Then her message came and we met at Starbucks the next day, and talked for hours. I wish that things had been different and we had not gone for so long without speaking. But, then again time was what I needed and without all the events that occured I would not have been sitting before her a much more peaceful, happy person.
    Saying, "I'm sorry" is never easy. It makes you vulnerable to the rejection from the other person. But sometimes, those three honest words can lift a burden off your heart  and restore a seperation of months and even years. You may not be ready to say them today, but God will press upon your heart an urgency to do so until you do.
Apparently his uses Facebook now too.

A Church, A Family

     I have heard it said that when tough times come your way, it is only blood you can count on to be there for you. I believe that a family is not simply made up of people who share the same DNA, but of a community of people whom you care for and who care about you. For me. this year has been an ever so present reminder of how blessed I am to be part of a church.
     Richard and I come from completely different backgrounds. I was raised Southern Baptist and he Catholic, though he was not practicing when I met him. We always said we wanted to find something in the middle, but it took us years to accomplish this. Not because we were church hopping, but because we were lazy. We would talk almost weekly for years about finding and joining a church. We tried out a few churches here and there, but honestly nothing ever fit. I wanted to feel like I was part of something more then just a sea of people in a sanctuary that held 5,000 people.  Finally one day a flyer came in the mail and we decided to try this church out.
     Our first Sunday at Grace Community was Palm Sunday. I'll admit I was scared to death. The church didn't have it's own building so the congregation met at a local high school. Both Richard and I were used to traditional settings. We took a deep breath and walked in.
     We were warmly greeting upon arrival and enjoyed the service. We happen to visit on a day where there was a social after church. After watching all the kids run around playing while the adults mingled, welcoming us and finding out where we were from, etc., we knew we found our home.
      Grace Community was exactly the small close knit environment we were looking for. Everyone knew each other, the pastor and his wife were down to earth and had a big family which we loved. The church's dedication to their children's program while running on a small church budget was admirable. You could tell they poured a lot of heart and soul into the children's ministry. It was a church that Richard and I both felt comfortable in. We were hooked.
    I am so thankful that we got that flier and decided to attend that Sunday. Our lives quickly became a roller coaster for a good two years. Our congregation reached out and embraced us when Richard was laid off from his job and I was pregnant with our fourth child. We were overwhelmed with support, prayers, emails and visits from members and leader who truly cared about how we were doing.
     We were showered with meals upon the birth of our son Samuel. Two weeks of home cooked meals delivered to my door was such a blessing to our family!
    Months later our pastor and his wife spent hours sitting with Richard and I as we overcame a very difficult challenge in our marriage. And , six months from that our pastor sat and cried with us in the hospital as I lay both very sick and broken hearted after losing our baby. He drove over an hour to be with us even though we insisted that he could visit us when we returned home. We were showered with visits, meals, and cards. We were deeply cared for and it made all the difference in the world.
     Our church has become family to us. I only hope to be able to give back in return all that our church family has done for us. Six months from now we are planning on having our church family with us again for another important event, our vow renewal ceremony in celebration of our ten year anniversary. It would seem only fitting that the people who have seen us through some of the toughest times, be there to witness our new beginning.

Fly

But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. Isaiah 40:31

Okay....... so it has been a while. In fact, it has been more than a week. I find it impossible to write unless something comes to me. And no I am not talking crazy and claiming my writing comes from a dream or a vision. I just mean I am not the type of person that can just force myself to write. So sometimes, I got nothing.
September was a rough month and I am glad it is over. I am sure a lot of it was my own anxiety building up about reaching and passing my scheduled due date. Now that it is past I feel like a huge burden has been lifted off my shoulders. I guess it was a right of passage and now I feel like I can really move on. I can take all the experiences I have had since losing the baby and all the changes I have made, apply them, and move forward.
I finally took all the sweet cards we received from so many wonderful friends, along with the dried roses and flower bouquets I have been holding on to, and put them in a special box. With them are all the ultrasounds I had, the onesies my best friend bought me, a photo frame, and a baby book. These little things are all I have of that baby and I think that child deserves a place of remembrance, even if it is in a gift box inside my hope chest.
I have also started considering what time of tree I would like to plant in remembrance of the baby. My church offered to assist with  planting a tree in memory of the baby, from the beginning, and I just have not been able to do it. I was not ready for closure, but now, I think I am.
I am at a peaceful place and it has been a long time coming. I have talked about in other posts some of the ways that I have changed, so I won't bore you with repeating them. I will say that the last six months have been a incredibly hard and yet I feel almost like a new person. No, I certainly am not grateful for losing the baby, but I a grateful for the opportunity that God gave me to grow and to learn. I feel now like more my true self then I ever have.
Saying that I feel more like my true self feels weird while although I feeling like I have grieved and started to let go of the baby, I know I have a long way to go with the anxiety issues. I said to my therapist that sometimes I feel guilty about having anxiety. If my faith was strong, I wouldn't be struggling, right? She, and others, put me at ease by reminding me that anxiety is your body's way of reacting to the fear of another traumatic event occurring again. It has nothing to do with lack of faith, or not being able to handles difficult times. It is not a sign of a lack of strength or a sign of weakness.
In fact perhaps,  a sign of my faith is my ability to be honest and very open about this experience despite what others would think. Faith is trusting that God will see me through these tough times. Faith is knowing that when you have come to the edge Of all light that you know and drop off into the darkness ,these things will happen: There will be something solid to crash on, you will once again stand, and then You will be taught to fly.
I think I am ready for flying lessons.

Baby Steps

  And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. Colossians 3:14
     I had such a busy week this last week. Richard and I planned a quick getaway for this last Saturday night. It was the first time in almost ten years of marriage we had an opportunity to get away together, alone. We planned to hit the Disney parks kid free and stay over at one of the resorts.
    My cousin and her husband offered to watch our four kids which is a huge blessing! I worked so hard in the days leading up, to be organized and have the house clean before we left, so when we got home Sunday night we could just relax. Anytime you go anywhere with or without kids you are still prepping just as much so things are prepared for the kids during the time you are gone.
    Well, despite my best intentions that did not happen. As it so often goes in my house, we were rushing out the door at 7am on Saturday morning, throwing last minute items in bags and leaving dirty dishes in the sink.
    A part of me was super excited for a night away, but another part of me was terrified. It doesn't matter how hard I try to hide my feelings, my husband can always tell when something is off with me. He sesned my apprehension towards our trip the morning before we left.
    The last thing I wanted to do was disappoint him. He was so excited to have me to himself. He had been sending me text messages each morning the week leading up with the countdown of number of days till we left. He even got us Disney pins that said we were celebrating our, "Date Day". (Yes, I was a good sport and wore the pin all day).
    When Richard expressed concern about my lack of enthusiasm about going away I initially brushed him off, assuring him that I was fine. Then I realized that by trying to spare his feeling I might actually be hurting them even more. Worried he  might come to his own assumption, I explained to him how I was feeling.
    I was actually terrified! I was literally scared to be alone with my own husband. We had spent the last six months since we lost the baby surrounded by our kids. They were my distraction, and without them around, I was vulnerable. What if I have changed so much that I don't know how to just spend time with my husband and have fun? What if the new "me" wasn't the "me" that he loved? What if we had nothing to talk about? What if I just couldn't let go of my anxieties and relax? What would that mean for us?
    Well I was right. Richard said I just wasn't much fun anymore and he left me sitting by the tea cups ..............Just kidding!
    Actually, we had a great time. I decided that our "Date Day" was going to be the first day of a new begining for us. I was going to let go and relax.
    First, I let go of my fear of roller coasters and rode Space Mountain. Yes, I know it is a baby coaster, but it is as scarey, and as fast as this wimp can tolerate. For the record they have upgraded it and it is much faster then it was years ago. I almost threw up on the guy in front of me who I think may not have appreciated me screaming at the top of my lungs right in his ear. I am certain he appreciated it when I started passing out and he no longer heard  my screams. My husband was cracking up at how long it took me to get color back to my face after that ride was over. I will never ride that again, so I hope he appreciated it!
    Second, I let go of my worry about how the kids were doing. They were in great hands and they were having a blast with their cousins. In fact when we picked them up Sunday night they asked if they could stay longer! So much for missing their mom!
   Third, I let go of my fear of people standing too close to me in line for Thunder Mountain. Seriously, September in Florida equals a lot of sweaty people standing in line and that line is not well ventalated. I found myself getting dizzy whenever I thought about all that sweat. Yuck!
    And last, I let go of my pain, at least for a while. When those sad thoughts crept into my mind reminding me that I still had a heartache, I shut those away.
    Our tears shed these last six months truly have brought us so much closer as a couple.  What I realized from our little trip was that we still are Richard and Sabrina, the couple who met one day, fell in love the next, and have been inseperable ever since. No matter what trials we face, we are still the best of friends who have as much fun together as we did eleven years ago when we were dating.
    No couple says, " bring on the hard times we are ready to struggle".  It takes a strong committment to see it through, and is accomplished often in  baby steps. But, with God as the center of our marriage we can heal together and have a blessed, united, intimate, and loving marriage that we would have never known, without having gone through the though times.

To be Held

 For I, the LORD your God, will hold your right hand, Saying to you, ‘Fear not, I will help you. Isaiah 41:13 (NKJV)

My oldest son, Richard, the one who seemed so quiet about our loss, finally had a break through a couple nights ago. He is a very sweet compassionate and sensitive child, so when his reaction to the loss of the baby was minimal, I was concerned.

I had heard him crying and went into his room. When I asked what was wrong he said that he did not want to tell me because he did not want to make me cry. Of course, no mom feels comfortable with that response, so I pressed further. Finally he told me he was upset about the baby. I was taken back because this was the first time he ever spoke openly with me about it. When I asked him what caused him to start thinking about the baby, he said that it was his bunk bed. His bunk bed?

He had been laying in his bed, trying to fall asleep. He looked up at the empty top bunk and realized that it will always be empty because the baby will never be here to fill it. He explained to me how scared he was that the baby would never know him. The baby would never know what a good brother he would have been and how much he would have loved him or her.

 I explained to him that, of course, the baby will know him one day when he gets to Heaven ( I inserted that he would be like 150 years old before he went to heaven as I didn't want to give him anything else to worry about). He looked at me and said, "No mom, the baby will never know the real me, the me I am now. We will never play chase or football together".

His tears were rolling down his cheeks and he was holding on to me tightly. The truth is that he was right.  The baby would not know him now and would not know the brother his is in this life. There was nothing could do to sugar coat his pain. This was the first time he had really let us know how sad he truly was and it was finally breaking through after six months. He needed to feel the sadness he he been keeping inside. That moment was his to begin his own healing process. All that I could do was hold him.

That night I thought to myself, this ache I felt for my son that night, having to watch him cry and knowing how badly his heart was hurting, was what God experiences when I am hurting. It is how He felt for me, his child, when I lay sobbing in my bed until I was too exhausted to cry any longer and my heart hurt so badly I felt it through my whole body. It was my moment to work through so that I could begin the healing process and all He could do, was hold me.

Still

The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still." Exodus 14:14

This week is a time of reflection for me, as it is for so many people. Aside from the 10th anniversary of 9/11, it is my sixth month anniversary of losing the baby, my due date if my pregnancy had continued, and my husband's fortieth birthday (again, for those who do not know I am 9.9years younger:)).  It is an emotional overload!

I have one word for how I feel this week, blah.


When someone experiences a tragedy they have a unique opportunity to see their lives and the world around them differently. They are able to have a different appreciation of life and live theirs with more passion and meaning than the average person. It is a bitter sweet gift and it is our choice whether we decide to take it and grow, or remain parallel. Though losing this baby has resulted in so many positive changes in the person I am, I am in fact, only human and sometimes I need a break from it all.

 I would love to say that I am experiencing a lot of positive self reflection on the anniversary of so many important events, but I think my mind and heart have gone into sleep mode just to survive the week. As my clarity returns, as I know it will, I hope to take a closer look at the person I have become in these last six months. I hope to gain a better perspective of how to move forward and live my life to reflect the compassion and grace that God has shown me during these difficult times.

For now, for this difficult week, I am simply being still.

Every Day is a Gift

And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.          Colossians 3:14 NIV

Above is a picture of my kids. I think sometimes that the "bloopers" make the best shots.

As I have mentioned before, I was beyond thankful to not have been present when my children were told that the baby passed away. It breaks my heart to think of what they must have felt at that moment. Their mommy was in the hospital sick and they had not seen or spoke to me in days. Now, they had the added confusion of trying to understand how a baby could be in my tummy at one moment and gone the next. How could something be gone that wasn't here yet?

The afternoon I came home kids were overjoyed. They had made little signs for me and hung them all over the house. I was so happy to come home. I wanted to be with them, but I was overwhelmed to see them. In fact, when I came home it didn't feel like it was really me. I felt like I was watching this moment unfold in front of me. I did not feel much of anything except for numbness. It did not take very long for their questions to come.

My kids have been through many losses in just a short time. I lost all four of my grandparents, whom the children were all very close to, (including my grandmother who lived with us so I could care for her the last year before she passed), all within less then two years of each other. We also lost our lab to a snake back in the back yard during the same time. Now, another loss for them to try to understand at such a young age.

Richard and Leia who are my two oldest children, seemed to be struggling the most. Richard, my oldest, didn't say too much. In fact, he stayed away from me that evening. I didn't push anything with him and let him have his space. I felt like he was dealing with  feelings of knowing I was very sick in the hospital and then of course, the reality of losing a baby.  He was probably scared that I wasn't going to make it home and now that I was he was afraid to get too close to me.

Leia immediately asked me when I would be having another baby. After all, this was her chance for a sister. I decided from the beginning to be honest with them as much as it was appropriate. I explained to her I would not be having another baby and therefore, she would not be having a sister. I will never forget the sadness on her face. I felt like I had let her down. It is even more important to me that she and I have a close bond. Besides, we are way outnumbered in this house!


Benjamin, who is my four year old, handled the loss very well. Of course, he couldn't truly understand the loss part, but he did understand that he had a baby in heaven. Wow, was he proud of that! He was telling anyone who would listen that he had his very own baby in heaven. He would scoff at everyone who spoke to because they were not as special as him to know someone in heaven.  He would ask me questions constantly. He wanted to know what color hair the baby had, was it a boy or girl, what was it's name, what color eyes it had. Every once in a while Benjamin still claims to see the baby in the sky with Jesus when we are driving somewhere or playing outside. He always looks so happy when he tells me this, that sometimes I really wonder what he sees.

Then there is Samuel. He was asleep when I came home from the hospital. It took all the strength I had not to grab him form his crib and have him sleep with me all night. The following morning, Richard brought him into the bedroom to see me. Samuel was so ecstatic he almost jumped out of his daddy's arms. He grabbed my face with both of his hands and pressed his sweet little face against mine. Words really do not give justice to how precious that moment with him was for me.

I am certainly blessed to have four beautiful children. Having had children prior to losing a baby both helps and hurts at the same time. It helps because it is a distraction from the pain. They keep my mind occupied most of the time. Their hugs, kisses and early morning climbs into my bed are my therapy.

In the same breath, being a mother makes the loss that much harder. I know what I lost. I know what that little baby would have become. I know how it would have snuggled on my chest while I rocked it to sleep. I know the messes it would have made all over my house as a toddler. I know the sound of pitter patter feet and giggles I will not hear. I know what I lost out on.

Perhaps that is why I have changed so much in the last few months. Before I went through this tragedy I was letting life pass me by. I was always in a rush to get to the next place or do the next thing.

I know that what I have here and now is precious. I do not want to miss one moment of the love, and joy that has been given to me.

Life is too Short

But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you. Matthew 6:33 NKJV

This week was a bit busy with the kids adjusting to their new school schedule and dealing with our first back to school virus. Thus the reason that I almost went a full week without a post. It won't happen again, well, unless I have a virus in the house again (which chances are, I will).

As I may have mentioned before, there are a few one liners that I have heard over and over since we lost the baby. They drive me absolutely crazy. I really do try hard just to put them aside, and often the people who are saying them truly do have the best of intentions. Sometimes it just gets repetitive.The latest I have been hearing is, "life is too short".
 Now, typically when I hear this, it is because someone is disapproving of something I did or didn't do. One of the toughest things I have experienced is a disapproval or lack of  understanding about our need for private time and respect of the choices we have made for our family. I have heard the same complaint from other women on some of the miscarriage/loss of baby boards online, as well.

When I am given the 'life is too short" guilt trip, what they do not realize is that I already know that all too well. It is the realization that life truly can be short that I came to through losing a baby and almost my life. It is that realization that drives my husband and I to want to cling together, make the healthiest choices possible for our family, and follow what we believe, God wants for our lives. I get " life is too short". I live it.

So, I have decided (in a passive aggressive manner) to give my top eight reasons of what  I  believe life is too short for.  Why eight? Because David Letterman already does the Top 10 thing and because quite frankly, I only have eight. They are as follows:

1). Life is too short not to eat chocolate. It is well known that I have a slight craving for Peanut Butter M&M's. Obviously I could not continue this habit on a full time basis. I have downgraded my enjoyment of these little candy coated gifts from God for a more healthy option, chocolate Italian ice swirls. Now that I am 35 pounds lighter over the last three months I would say this was a wise swap. Still every once in a while I indulge.

2). Life is too short to not tuck my children into bed each night. We have the same ritual in our house every evening. We stick to it no matter how busy the night has been or how many dished I have left to do.  I start with the youngest and work my way to the oldest. We say prayers, talk about their day, and then it is off to bed with a kiss goodnight. There are some nights when I feel like just getting them to bed quickly, but I know that they will not be little forever and one day I will be missing this.

3). Life is too short to blow dry my hair straight everyday. My hair dryer caught on fire last week and I haven't made my way to Target to buy a new one yet. So, for the first time ever, I have gone a whole week with my curly/wavy hair. You know what? I have gained another hour in my day because of it!  So, when I do buy another hair dryer, ( which I will, because I will eventually get tired of my hair looking like a mop) I promise myself that I will only dry it flat every other day.

4). Life is too short to maintain toxic relationships. One of the things that quickly changed for me when I lost the baby, was the people I wanted in my life. It wasn't because I stopped caring about them, so much as it was I no longer had the energy to nurture relationships that were not healthy and supportive.  With the struggles I was having, I felt my kids and husband deserved the best of me, and even that "best" still isn't all that great all the time. I felt it was wrong for me to be putting my energy anywhere other then healing from our loss and growing closer as a family. The result has been a huge burden taken off my shoulders and a feeling of peace, even in my turmoil.
5). Life is too short to be serious all the time. Thus the reason for this post tonight!

6). Life too short to try to control what God is already controlling. It is a huge waste of time, trust me. Nuff said.

7). Life is too short to fold fitted sheets. Seriously, have you tried folding fitted sheets? Every time I did this, the fold never looked right and  always looked like I just rolled it up anyway. So, now I do.

8). Life is too short to regret. I have things I wish I did differently or wish I never did. I wish I had insisted more that something was wrong with me and not trusted my doctors dismissal of my concerns.  Maybe then, I would have been bringing a new baby into the world this month. Instead, I am trying to move past the due date of what will never be. I cannot honestly say that I would not take anything back in my life, especially this year, but whether life has been good, painful, right or wrong, I am where I am today because of it and because God's ability to make all things work for good, is without limitations.

Marriage and Miscarriage

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 1 Corinthians 13:7

Losing a baby will do one of two things for a marriage. A marriage will either strengthened or it will be  torn apart. Richard and I have always been close and communicated well, but even the best of marriages will face challenges. With each challenge you work through, your marriage will grow stronger. The challenge though, can be a treacherous journey.

 Just a month before we lost the baby we attended a weekend marriage conference at our church. Initially, it did not look like we would be able to go, as the probability of getting someone to watch the kids for the weekend look grim. To pay for a sitter would have been a hefty bill. At the last minute a  woman from our church called out of the blue and offered to watch the kids as a favor. ( I am fairly certain that my pastor might have mentioned something to her, but he never confessed to doing such:)). I was relieved to have Teri watch the kids as she was always great with them in Sunday school and was a mother of four grown children herself. I knew I wouldn't have to worry about a thing that weekend. So, off we went.
We really enjoyed the conference. Simply being able to sit down next to each other and relax uninterrupted was awesome in itself! We ended that weekend refreshed and gained some great insight on how to grow closer as a couple. Having that opportunity to attend that conference truly prepared us for the crisis that lay ahead.
We knew that it would be crucial that we cling to each other and focus on healing our family from our loss. It is very easy to turn inward when you experience a traumatic event. Because it is primarily the woman who feels the biggest impact physically and mentally after a miscarriage, working through the loss can be especially trying on a marriage even under the best circumstances. Each person is experiencing different emotions of their own and receiving different reactions from others as well.

My husband, Richard, is a great husband and father. He is one hundred percent family man. The first time I saw him interact with my 5 month old niece while we were dating I knew this guy will be an awesome father someday. Our four kids adore their dad. He is with them whenever he is not working. He is the kind of guy that is always thinking about me and the kids and would rather be with us then anywhere else. As I said in an earlier post, Richard did not bat an eye at having a fifth baby. He was  just as excited as he was when we were expecting our first child.

Although Richard did not come to my most of my first trimester appointments, (he was either working or watching the kids when I had appointments) he did come to my  12 week ultrasound, along with our two youngest boys. We all watched the baby moving around on the screen. My son Benjamin was so excited!  He instantly said, "told you so mom". He said this because he had insisted a month earlier I was having a baby because "he could hear the baby's heartbeat in my tummy":) I was grateful that Richard made it to that ultrasound. It made the pregnancy real to him, he could finally see what I was feeling. It was also the only time he would ever see the baby.

When we got out to the car after the appointment I pulled the visor down to check my makeup and down fell a card into my lap. It was signed with a simple, " I love you so very much". This was the day we were officially telling everyone we were expecting, and he wanted me to know that he truly was excited about the new addition to come.

The only times I have seen my husband cry, have been when we visited his father's grave, said our vows, when he saw each of our children for the first time, and when they wheeled me to surgery to take the baby. After the procedure, because I was so sick, I couldn't see him for over two hours. When he was finally brought back to be with me, he had changed from the man I looked back at as I was being taken to surgery. He now had a different role to play. He was supposed to be strong for me.

I believe that Richard would say that his biggest struggle was understanding what he could do to help me. When men are confronted with problems they try to find a solution. There was no solution here, just pain that had to be worked through. Sometimes the best thing he could do, was say nothing and just be with me while I cried or woke up from a nightmare.
He had his own feeling as well, but put them aside to be strong for me. At times I would take his desire to be strong for me as his lack of sadness or disconnect from what happened. I had to realize that although he processed his grief differently, he felt the pain of our loss just the same. There were times when I saw glimpses of that sadness, but for the most part he kept that from me.

Most of the focus after the loss of a child is on the mom. I have been so blessed to have had so many people who care and call to check in on me or stop by to visit. Men, however tend to get far little support. With the exception of some close friends and members of our church, Richard rarely received calls asking how he was. In fact it seemed just the opposite.

Richard was expected  to continue to be the same son, brother, friend, co-worker that he once was before. Anything other then what was expected of him, seemed to be almost taken offensively by others. It was as if it wasn't his loss, but mine. If he wasn't taking care of me and the kids he was usually having a conversation with someone who couldn't understand why he wasn't attending a get together or calling as often as he used to.  It was difficult to see him have to deal with so much. If Richard was writing this he would say it was no big deal. He was just doing his job as a husband and father. That makes it sounds so simple, but he truly was the glue that held our family together until I could begin to function again.

 One of the things that we took away from the marriage conference, was that we needed to make our marriage a priority among all things. Richard has been a rock for me, and for that I am grateful. Our journey through healing from our loss is far from over. Next month will be a big month for us. It will be the month the baby was due and also Richard's fortieth birthday. There are difficult emotions to work through yet to come, but we know if we look towards God and lean on each other we will continue to work towards a place of peace and healing for our family.

Kinley

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above.
~ James 1:17 from NKJV

It was about a week and a half before I lost my baby, that I was sitting in a hospital room with my best friend Shanna. We have been friends for fifteen years and had seen each other though everything. The loss of her parents, both of our marriages, college graduations, and the birth of my children, and now the birth of her first child. She had just given birth seven weeks early to her first baby, Kinley, by emergency C-section. I was sitting by her hospital bed in ICU, listening to her describe the last twenty-four hours prior to Kinley's arrival.

Shanna's husband was out of town Friday when she began to feel seriously ill. She decided to hold off until the next morning to go in to the doctor. I still feel ill when I think of what could have happened to her alone in that house. I was only five minutes away and had I known I would have been with her all night. When she reached her doctor's office the next morning her blood pressure was through the roof and her blood work showing she was septic. The doctors had to take the baby, as Shanna's life was in jeopardy. There was no time to wait for her husband to fly home from New Jersey, the baby needed to be taken now and Shanna had to go under general anesthesia.

I got the call from our friend Angela while I was napping. I had not been feeling well and Richard took the kids out so I could rest. It turns out I had missed half a dozen calls prior.  I jumped up in a panic throwing on clothes and racing out the door. I was desperate to get to the hospital before she woke up from surgery. I felt horrible  that she had to go into surgery without me there.

So, there I sat there listening to her describe how she had been feeling I gently lectured her for not calling me the night before, for continuing to work while she was experiencing chest pain, and for being too passive about her symptoms that could have killed her.
If only I had realized that at that moment I was doing the same thing. I had been experiencing swelling in my upper abdomen, headaches, racing heart, chest pain, sudden weight gain, and a general feeling of malice. I was just struggling to continue with my day, thinking these symptoms were just a result from being so tired having to work and care for four children. I didn't know that I was placing myself in the same danger I was lecturing Shanna about.

Kinley did great! She was only in NICU for about a month. Close to two weeks into her stay I still had not been able to come and see her as I had been feeling pretty rough. I felt terrible that I wasn't there with my best friend and had not yet spent time with her baby.

Shanna went every morning and night to be with Kinley at the hospital. She was at the hospital with her husband the night my water broke. I knew they were there but I didn't have the heart to call her and tell her to come downstairs to the ER. I didn't want her, or anyone else to sit there and hurt for me. It was ironic she was on one floor spending time with her precious baby and downstairs I was saying goodbye to mine.

Each time I had a baby, Shanna would remind me that we were supposed to be pregnant together and to not let it happen again until she was ready to have a baby as well. Well, after my fourth we concluded that we would never be pregnant together and have babies the same age. That is, until she got the call from me and I told her the news. She was shocked, but so excited. We would actually get to be pregnant together, the babies just a few months apart and they would be the best of friends. It was actually going to happen!
Obviously in life our plans do not always pan out. One week she gave birth to Kinley and a week or so later I tragically had to say goodbye to mine. Our babies would never be rolling on the floor together while we chatted over coffee. We would not be swapping baby clothes. If mine was a girl ( we did not have a chance to find out for sure, but I know it was a girl and I have always been right! ) they would never have play dates where they dressed up and played with their dolls. If mine was a boy he would never chase Kinley around the house with frogs or run her dolls over with trucks. It was a dream that ended. Abruptly.

My therapist asked me what things I avoid now. I rambled off many different things that easily trigger tears. Not tears of pity for myself, just sadness for the loss. She asked me if I avoid babies. Not all, I answered, not Kinley.

Kinley is my best friend's child. I call her my niece and see her as the same. She is as precious to me as one of my own. I anticipated her arrival with Shanna for months! I could see how I could struggle with memories of the hurt of my own loss when I am with her, but instead I am reminded of God's perfect plan. He brought Kinley safely into this world and took mine safely to heaven. Both are his children. Neither less significant than the other. Sometimes if I am feeling sad, I will I spend time holding Kinley. I could sit and snuggle her for hours. She is a precious connection to the baby I lost. She is a living example of God's miracles and beautiful reminder of the baby I will someday see in heaven.

Just Laying Back on the Couch

For God is not the author of confusion, but of peace. 1 Corinthians 14:33(KJV)

It was about 5 weeks after I lost the baby that I finally bit the bullet and went to talk to my doctor about symptoms I was experiencing. I was having chest pain, panic attacks, and long crying spells which were followed by periods of numbness. My doctor felt, and I agreed, that I was onbiously suffering from anxiety due to the traumatic loss of the baby and everything combined. She convinced me to try some medication that was going to help with all of my symptoms. Initially I did find relief from my symptoms somewhat,but after a few weeks passed they came back that much stronger.
About 10 weeks into treatment I decided it was probably best to see a Licenced Mental Health Therapist. I didn't want an everyday counselor as I had started having nightmares that were horrific and always included the baby being found dead somewhere and someone asking me why I didn't stop it from happening. I found myself easily startled by noises and unable to do things as simple as go to the store without leaving my cart and walking out. I knew that this type of behaviour was not normal for me under any conditions.

The night I walked into the therapist's office I felt like I was able to take my first real deep breathe in months. My therapist, Helen, was warm and welcoming. I knew I was exactly where I needed to be. That next hour was the best hour I had had in months. So, I went back a second time and then a third. I looked forward to going. As a mom I rarely get a chance to sit down and here I was, being told it was okay to lay back on a comfy leather sofa, put my feet up, and just talk about me. It was a little taste of heaven.

The third visit is when we got down to business. Helen took out a book and began asking questions. I knew we were completing my diagnosis but I wasn't sure exactly what these answers and questions were leading to. At the end, my diagnosis of Post- Partum Depression and severe anxiety were both overruled by my strong diagnosis of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
What??

Not only did I have it, it was considered severe as I hit all major five points of diagnosis and all but one of the sub-points. I had never thought of PTSD as anything other than a disorder that soldiers get when they return form war.

I left a little confused but managed to find some humor and relief in the diagnosis. I now knew that these symptoms were not just me acting crazy, but a symptoms that I legitimately could not control. I called my mom, a therapist herself, and told her the news. I had always been an over achiever and here her daughter hit all five points for diagnosis of PTSD. Go me!

Here is what I have learned in the last few weeks about PTSD. The symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder can arise suddenly, gradually, or come and go over time. Sometimes symptoms appear seemingly out of the blue. At other times, they are triggered by something that reminds you of the original traumatic event, such as a noise, an image, certain words, or a smell. While everyone experiences PTSD differently, there are three main types of symptoms:
re-experiencing the traumatic event, avoiding reminders of the trauma, and increased anxiety and emotional reactions.

I decided to take my time and deal with this problem head on. Often we do not seek help out of pride or an assumption that if the symptoms eventually go away, everything will be fine. Truth is if you are not willing to get real with problems, whether they are with your mental health or a marriage crisis, you will eventually hit a wall and crumble. It may not be in a month, a few months or even a year. But it will happen, it always does.
What is getting real? It is facing the truth. It is speaking out loud the about hurt. It is choosing to do the real work to heal, not just pretending all is well and carrying on as normal.

I am not sure what this therapy will include. We haven't even started scratching the surface of therapy as it is desired that a persons symptoms be under control because therapy can cause more trauma.

So, once a week I will be visiting Helen and that super comfy leather sofa. I haven't mentioned it to her yet, but I am thinking if she could bring in a Starbucks Barista for me I am certain it would certainly help my therapy process. Just me, laying back on the sofa with my feet up and a Grande Green Tea Frappuccino with two pumps of hazelnut. Ahh.

Meant to Be

"Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands; Your walls are in My view continuously." (Isaiah 49:16)

The absolute most ignorant ( pardon my bluntness) thing that can be said to a woman who has lost a baby is, " It wasn't meant to be".
The day after I got home my husband took the kids with him to the airport to meet grandma. I planned on turning on the TV and resting, but I found myself, as I often do, just blankly staring, processing nothing that I was watching.
My phone rang not too long into their absence. It was a family member calling to check on me. The call started off awkward as it usually does when people are not sure what to say. I spoke as quickly as possible with the hopes of ending the call.
Then, I heard four words that, still today, make me cringe. "Well, you know it just wasn't meant to be".
I stuttered for a moment trying to get a response to leave my lips. " But it was meant to be. There was nothing wrong with the baby, there was something wrong with me. I was sick. The doctor said there was this infection that had probably been there was a couple weeks and that if it wasn't for that my water.........". I was cut off with a curt, " We can say, 'if this or that happened', Sabrina, but it is, what it is".

What do you think it the second things I hate to hear the most? Yep you guessed it, " It is, what it is". To me that just sounds lazy. It is a way of brushing things off that you cannot understand. Or, perhaps it is a way of brushing off things you don't want to understand because it may leave you with questions. The answers might shake up a belief you have about who God is. It may make you realize that no matter what you do or how hard you try to control your environment, you have no control. Only He does. That can be a scary concept to grasp. But, I assure you once you do it will be your greatest comfort.

I became very defensive and hurt during this phone call. I was trying to defend the validity of this unborn child. "It" was meant to be. "It" isn't just "what it is".
I think that I speak for all women who have had to bear the grief of losing a baby when I say that, my baby had ten fingers and ten toes fingers. It had a beating heart just like you and I. It could suck it's thumb. It was God's perfect creation that he meant to make. I loved it already. I dreamed of it's cherub face an tiny feet. It was mine , it was real, and it was meant to be.

An therein lies my own misconception. This baby was not mine, it was God's. It was his to take home. Our children our not ours, they are His. He gives them to us for a time. He expects us to raise them with the same love and discipline he shows us. When I think about the love I have for my children, it is a love that is so deep it hurts. Magnify that times anything I could possibly comprehend and I see that He loves them more then I could EVER love them, because his love is Infinite.
It is because of the promise of his Infinite love, that when I close my eyes I can see him waiting with open arms to welcome home his child that I lost.

Eat, Pray, Love.....Thanks but I Think I'll Just Eat

"But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me". 2 Corinthians 12:9 (NIV)


It was immediately following my return home when an old addiction resurfaced. I am not too proud to admit it. After all, even prayer couldn't help this craving. That is right, my addiction to peanut butter M&M's was back! Sales clerks at Walgreens and CVS knew me by name. I am sure eventually a poster with my picture was posted behind the counter. I was clearing out their shelves on a regular basis and it was bad for business. And no, I was not buying the single serving bags. I was only interested in the Family size bags.


Leaving the house and socializing was nearly impossible for me so Richard found himself taking the kids to karate, church, and parties by himself. One particular Sunday when everyone was gone, I turned on Netflix. It is rare that I get a chance to pick out my own movie. I planned to savor the moment. I scrolled and scrolled through the movies and then hit one that I had heard everyone rave about, "Eat, Pray, Love". In fact, I think Oprah devoted a whole show to this " must see movie". I thought to myself this is exactly what I need. This movie will be the inspiration that I need to move forward, to be able to feel like I am living again, to be able to at least be around people. So, I cuddled up on the couch with a blanket and my M&M's.


If you haven't seen the movie, the short story is that a middle aged woman seeks to find herself after a divorce that she initiated. She left all she had behind to travel for eighteen months. She went to Rome (Italy), Pataudi (India), to pray, and Bali (Indonesia) to love ( Note, this part I liked because I am always a sucker for a happy ending). Aside from the movie being slow there were a few things that really bothered me ( aside form the fact I cannot eat pasta....what would I even do in Italy???). I expected this movie to inspire me. I thought after this movie I would be energized to move forward and get past this funk I was in. It didn't happen. I was annoyed that I spent two hours of my life watching a movie that taught me nothing, or so I thought.

The movie actually got me wondering why every movie that tells a story a woman going through a traumatic life changing event, shows the character leaving everything behind to "go find herself". Why does healing have to be found half way around the world eating fettuccine or embracing a new religion? How unrealistic it is for "real" people who have families they love and a life that they want to have to just up and leave for a while to find themselves. What is realistic is that like most moms I am lucky to have five minutes to myself each day. Those 5 minutes are usually spent in the shower. At night I am usually so tired I collapse soon after the kids go to bed. Reality is that I have a husband and four little lives who depend on me to keep it together and keep moving forward. I will not be jet setting anytime soon to find myself in Italy.

I do not think I have ever seen a book written or a blockbuster movie that shows anyone searching to healing from their maker. Is the bible not the owners manual for our lives? I know that I often find myself looking elsewhere and have to bring myself back to the one reliable source. Perhaps we get discouraged by God and "his timing" so we resort to far less reliable methods like the latest Self Help books, movies, or traveling around the world

Someone recently said to me, " I did everything right, I do not know why God let me get here. He promises to get us through hard times and instead things seems to get worse". God doesn't promise to "get us through" tough times. His Word promises to SEE us through. He promises to be with us during times of tribulation. We see these times as trials, but what they really are, are times of grace. They are times for us to learn to lean on him and to grow.

The growth during these times doesn't have to happen immediately. Sometimes we simply need to be held until we can begin to move forward. It is during this time that God draws closer. "The LORD is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those who are crushed in spirit." Psalm 34:18 (NIV)

My favorite song is by Natalie Grant it is titles "Held". The lyrics are below.

Two months is too little,
they let him go
They had no sudden healing
To think that providence
Would take a child from his mother
While she prays, is appalling
Who told us we'd be rescued
What has changed and
Why should we be saved from nightmares
We're asking why this happens to us
Who have died to live, it's unfair
This is what it means to be held
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held

This hand is bitterness
We want to taste it and
Let the hatred numb our sorrows
The wise hand opens slowly
To lilies of the valley and tomorrow
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held
If hope if born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait for one hour
Watching for our Savior
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We'd be held.

Aftershock

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. (Isaiah 41:10)

My doctor says the first thing I said when I woke up was, " I woke up?" He told me that the infection was so bad that if we had just waited a few more hours, things would not have turned out well. In other words I would have died. I didn't know at that moment that getting through surgery was just one obstacle for me. In post op my blood pressure started getting into the 180' and my heart rate the 150's. They tried for over two hours to stabilize me, with no luck. Finally after two hours they brought Richard to be with me in post op ( the restricted area...whatever) and within 20 minutes my blood pressure started going down enough to move me to a room. However, my fever kicked in and thus began my fighting off a serious infection that had spread through my body.

I don't remember too much about my time in the hospital. I was fairly well drugged and spent most of my time either sleeping or watching CNN and the earthquake in Japan. I refused to eat anything but Italian Ices.I remember feeling so deeply for those people and thinking just how insignificant my tragedy was compared to theirs. I was so blessed to have four beautiful children. I felt selfish to feel sorry for myself when there people across the world were losing everything they had, their family members and home. I watched their entire lives literally washing away on the screen in front of me.

My mother in-law had come to stay with the kids. After the first night they were wondering where mommy was and my husband and his mom decided to sit them down and tell them what happened to the baby. I was so thankful that the kids were being looked after and even more thankful that I did not have to see their reactions to the bad news. I knew they would be heartbroken. Knowing that made my heart hurt more.

After a couple of days on IV antibiotics, my doctor finally came to me and said if my fever did not stay down and spiked again the next day he was calling in infectious diseases. I was terrified. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be home with my husband and kids. More importantly I was worried that I might never get to do that. So I decided enough was enough I was going home. My nurses came in and packed my bed with ice and covered me with blankets. I refused any fever reducing medicine. I was going to get rid of this fever once and for all. I prayed and prayed and prayed until I fell asleep.

I woke up around 4am drenched in sweat. My fever had broke. I just needed it to stay that way. When my nurse came in she cautiously optimistic that the fever was permanently gone and I would be doing better from there. My doctor gave me permission to go home the next day if I went the entire day with no fever. I had to spend the next 3.5 weeks on antibiotics etc, but at least I could do that at home. I was so happy to be in that van riding home. I thought home was going to make me better. I thought being with my kids would help me begin to heal.

When I walked up to the front door there were signs made by the kids that their Aunt Stephanie helped them do for me. They were so cute. The kids were ecstatic to see me. But I felt nothing. In fact it felt surreal to me, like I was watching myself come home to my family. I assumed it was from being sick, weak, exhausted and did my best to sit with them and talk to them for a few hours before I went to bed. It was an agonizing few hours. Here I was with these adorable kids who wanted to smother me with their affection and I found myself wishing I was back in the hospital. I had made it through the fight for my life, but did not know that the real fight was just begining.

The Story

"The times when you have seen only one set of footprints, is when I carried you." ~ Mary Stevenson.

     I guess to read my opening post might be very confusing to those who are not close to me. Even for those who are close to me my first post may be much different than the usual cheery happy person that they talk to from day to day. Everything happened so quickly that even though it was announced on Facebook ( that is the new official way of announcing things, right?) many probably still didn't know that I was 3 and a half month pregnant with our fifth child back in March of this year. Surprised? So were we. Still to this day I am not so sure how that happened.That is a joke, please feel no need to give me the story of the birds and the bees.....I got it.

      Anyone who saw me regularly knew by my growing tummy, greenish tint to my face, and swollen feet I was definitely expecting. We were, as I said, completely shocked. Four had always been our number and after we had Samuel in 2010 we were complete. Four was a handful, but really not anymore than three was. We always wanted a big family so we just knew after our third child that there would definitely be a fourth.

     My husband was instantly overjoyed about baby number 5. I took a day or two to relax. I had been working a full time job at a law firm. I had been a stay at home mom for 8 years and then, just 6 weeks after I had Samuel a job fell into my lap and I had to take it. It truly was the perfect job. Still the thought of being a working mom of 5 kids was very overwhelming to me.
After a day or two my look of shock turned into a silly dreamy smile as I spent the next two weeks bitting my tongue and told no one.

     As soon as we had a heartbeat we told everyone. I have to say that everyone was as shocked as we were, but very excited. To know Richard and I, is to know that we love being a family. We love our children and enjoy every minute we have together. Never have we been the type to take advantage of what we have. We always stay close to home and spend anytime not working together with the kids. So it was official, our family of six was soon to be a family of seven. Leia put her request in for a sister. She wanted a sister so very bad and I wanted one for her. She certainly wasn't lacking in brothers, she already had three.

     In late February I started to have symptoms that concerned me. Having had four kids I considered myself (and still do for the record) to be an expert. Over the course of three weeks I contacted my doctor three times about my concerns both over the phone and in person. My concerns were dismissed as symptoms some pregnant women just get. One early morning I woke up cramping. It wasn't bad, but it was enough to make me uncomfortable. I took some Tylenol and returned to bed. I dreamed that I was standing in my bathroom at work covered in blood. When I woke up I knew something must not be right. I went to the ER on 3/14 and after some blood work and an ultrasound I was sent home an assured I was just fine. They never mentioned to me that my blood work came back with several abnormalities. The kind that would indicate to even someone who knows nothing about medicine that I had an infection. I went home and convinced myself I was fine.
The cramping continued into the next day, but began to get better. I relaxed thinking maybe I just had a stomach bug or some other simple ailment and that I was on the mend. However, that night my water broke while I was sitting on the couch. I wasn't entirely convinced because I never heard of someones water breaking this early so I went to the ER. I insisted to Richard he not go with me. I told him I was certain I was overreacting. The truth was I was trying to spare him the pain of watching me go through this.

     Once I saw the ultrasound I knew it bad. All of the amniotic fluid around the baby was gone. I assumed it was because the baby had died and I was miscarrying. But that was not at all the case. The baby's heart was beating away at 160 beast a minute. I could see little arms and legs moving on the screen.

     The ER doctor must not have known better because she sent me home. She told me that within a few hours the baby's heart would stop and I would begin lose the baby. What she did not know was that I was very sick and was about to become septic. My blood work was double the abnormal numbers form the day before. It was never mentioned.

     I have no idea how I got home that early morning. I think it was around 4am. I collapsed on the bed with Richard and we both cried for hours until the sun came up. By this time I was feeling very ill and had the chills. I called the office of a doctor I used to see and trusted with my life and went in. I again somehow convinced Richard I should go to the doctor alone. That way he could stay with the kids and they wouldn't catch on that there was something wrong.

     When I arrived at the office, the doctor did another ultrasound assuming that the baby was now "gone" and prepared to schedule a D&C. However, instead of seeing a quiet still uterus, what we saw was a baby whose heart was still going. It was at 165. Perfectly healthy heartbeat despite it's deteriorating surroundings. I could have turned away and not looked at the screen up on the wall, but I knew that what I was seeing was all I would ever see. I didn't want to miss that last opportunity.

     My doctor and I discussed my options. Without a doubt the baby would not be able to survive without water and was too young to live if born.While talking to me about the situation the doctor felt on exam that something more was going on here. My cervix was still closed. This was not normal for someone who's water broke hours ago. The doctor said my uterus felt hot and that he feared this was an infection that had not yet spiked a fever. My doctor did not have access to that blood work and was just going off my presentation, which was getting worse by the minute. I was told I had no choice but to abort the baby immediately. There was no time to wait and see if it's heart would soon stop, that could have taken weeks. There was no time to wait for a more humane way to end this baby's life with an injection to the heart before the procedure.

     I was taken to the hospital immediately and put on antibiotics, pain killers, a "cocktail" to make me relax before surgery. My husband got there just minutes before I was taken back. My doctor made sure I understood the procedure. Did I understand this was a dilation and curettage abortion? Yes, I told him I did. It raised questions with some nurses who questioned why this was being done while the baby's heart was still beating. There was something about the ethics board and some argumentative discussion that were held. My doctor looked down at me and said, "You didn't want five anyway right?" I felt a part of my die when I heard those words.

     I just lay there quietly with my eyes closed saying goodbye to the child I would not meet, but already loved. The fifth child that I wasn't planning on, but certainly wanted. I apologized in my heart for the procedure which was about to happened and asked God to be waiting for this baby on the other side. By this time I was feeling so ill I wasn't sure if he would be greeting one of us, or both of us. I was prepared for either.

Something Solid to Land On

“When you have come to the edge Of all light that you know And are about to drop off into the darkness Of the unknown, Faith is knowing One of two things will happen: There will be something solid to stand on or You will be taught to fly”~ Patrick Overton

I have been thinking about writing this blog for months now. I used to journal all the time when I was a teenager and in my early twenties. Well, basically before I became a mom. I would write for hours about all of my dreams and all of my drama. Of course, I thought my life was so very complicated then. I guess my mother was right. My life was nothing near complicated then.In fact she has been right about a few things now, so I have no plans on telling her that I am writing this blog. No need to feed her ego.

Today just happen to be the day I sat down before midnight and had time to myself. It is amazing to me how many things I can think about writing, but when I sit down to do so, I cannot find those words again. In fact for the last four months or so, my mind has raced with thoughts all day, everyday.

My title for my blog, " A Thread of Grace" explains my life to a perfect point. I am here because I am hanging onto a thread of the Grace of God.


I do not imagine that my story is unlike so many other people who have been dealt a blow by life that knocked them off of their feet. The kind of blow that leaves you dazed and confused and fighting to find the person that you were or at least the person who you have now become.

Life's trials come in all shapes and sizes. What is devistating and life altering to one, is a walk in the park for another. When you think that you are in the midst of something so big that nothing could not hurt any more than it does at that moment, you will often find later that yes, in fact you can hurt more and it can be worse. The good news is that no matter how far down you go, no matter how much it hurts, there is a heavenly father who waits. He doesn't wait to simply get us through situations, but to see us through life's trials.

The quote above by Patrick Overton is one of my favorites. I disagree slightly though with his view. I think that when we have come to the edge of all light and drop off a cliff into the darkness that instead of something being there for us to stand on, it is often more like a drop off a cliff onto rocks below that leave you wounded and waiting for rescue. You see, sometimes you are so injured you have to heal before you can stand, let alone fly.

I have heard too many times lately, "Well, if anyway can get through this you can". I hate to disappoint those who themselves feel better by thinking that I am Superwoman, but no, I am not such a strong person and right now I am not just getting through this. In fact, I want to, " just get through" this. To get through it means to find closure, and closure to me seems scarey. The only connection I have is a painful one. I would rather have a painful connection then have no connection at all.

Too often when we experience something painful we try to "get through it" quickly to move on with our lives. But "getting through" isn't working through. It isn't healing. It isn't real.

So here I am, having been smashed into the rocks that were waiting for me as I dropped of the edge of the light into the darkness. I am sitting here. I am not ready to stand up, and too wounded to fly. But I am not alone for God is here with me. I never asked him for a miracle. I only asked that he not leave me alone. He hasn't.