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.

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.

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.