The Legacy that Awaits

We just welcomed to our humble little abode a beautiful new dining room table.  It was not in the plan to purchase a new table, but yet here we are. 

When we bought the table, my heart swelled with joy and excitement and anticipation of the conversations, meals, laughter and fellowship that would be taking place with friends and family gathered in the years to come.

The table we had before we bought ours belonged to a friend's grandmother.  The short while we had it, I was excited to continue to build a legacy of love around it.  It was not perfect, it was not our first choice, but it was well loved and had a story. 

When that table was returned to its family of origin, I began to get all sentimental about owning our own table and the legacy that we would build .... not about the table being a legacy, but the table would be the center in which was gathered around for stories of love, conversations of grace and correction, tears of laughter, joy and sorrow. 

Everything in my home is a launchpad for Kingdom work.  Far too often I forget that. 

From the cribs, glider and changing pad in my nursery, to the couch, coffee table and bookshelf in my living room.  May they all serve as a beautiful reminder that God has something greater in store and that everything I own is only on temporary loan to me.

God has provided a way for me and my husband to own what we have furnished our house with; the least we can do is use it for His greater glory.

So come on by.  Pull up a chair.  Relax on the couch.  Let's share a conversation.  My home is your home.

Grace in the Waiting

Waiting.  It requires a great amount of patience.  Patience.  Something that I long to have an abundance of but that I often find I am lacking when I want something so bad.

Time.  It feels like I am running out of time to grow my family as I want to.  This season of life is not at all something I envisioned I would be experiencing in my first year of marriage.

And it sucks.  The past six/seven months have been the most awful emotional roller coaster I have been on.  From the excitement to finding out we were pregnant to quickly realizing that we were losing the baby, to being pregnant again and having apprehension yet excitement to learning that that baby, too, was in heaven.  Surgery, infection, no answers, learning that our baby, Nolan, was a girl. 

My heart is broken.  Perhaps it is the hormones of another month that has come and gone with no baby yet again. 

I press into God yet it hurts, still. 

My husband is my constant.  My rock.  My reminder to press into God because when that day comes when we hold a child that is ours, the joy will be unrelenting. 

I struggle to fully embrace that a day like that exists.  It is hard to see past today. 

While I read stories of redemption, my heart struggles to wrap around the hope yet to come.   My mind believes it yet my heart is hesitant. 

We pursue foster care but will that, can that, fill the void in my heart to have a baby to call my own?

I pray that I look back on this season of life and I can see the realness and rawness that I felt.  But I pray that I see that God was ever present in all of the pain and through all of the tears.  It feels so awfully lonely to walk this journey.  It has been so hard to allow people into the pain. 

I had so much hope that this was our month to be pregnant.  And the fact that I am not feels extra heavy today.  It is hard to write that somewhere else other than my personal journal.  It is hard to admit that some days I am not okay; and that it is okay to not be okay in those moments. 

Thankfully the good days outweigh the challenging days.  I can find joy in the small things and the large things.  And I have hope and trust in the Lord that while right now, this very minute, sucks, this is not the end.  This is not how I was meant to live.  And I will press into God and find healing through the tears.   

Getting Answers and Pressing On

I have a follow up appointment with my OB next week.  Pathology is running tests to see if we could possibly find answers as to what happened to our baby.  Maybe we will receive answers pointing to why we have had two recurrent miscarriages.  There are thoughts that maybe it was chromosomal in which we would receive some insight; but that would ultimately just mean that it was a fluke and that there was no way to prevent it or avoid it in the future.

At this point, I have no real longing to know what happened.  Knowing what happened to one baby and not the other breaks my heart.  I will accept answers, but I am not seeking them out on my own.

Losing my babies has been the hardest thing I have ever experienced, yet it has also been on the greatest things for my faith walk.  Being able to press into Jesus has brought me deeper than I have ever been.  Even looking back one month ago to where I am now amazes me.

The longing for a baby has not gone away.  We still wish to be parents.  We still wish to bring a child into this world that shares our DNA.  But it is not a sole focus for us.  It is not a be all end all.  We want a baby, but we also know we can be parents through other measures, such as foster care.

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It has been one month since I stopped carrying my sweet child.  The emotions that the past month have held have been some of the deepest valleys I have traveled through to date.  The hormone crash, the uncertainty of my own body, still in limbo between maternity clothes and pre-maternity clothes.  The struggle is real.  The emotions have been raw.  But my God is good.  Pressing into God and trusting in Him to lead me on this journey.  It has not always been easy, and sometimes it is not even the first means I turn to.  But when I find that quiet place with Jesus ... I can sink into his presence and share the depths of my heart without fear of judgement or fear that I'll be misunderstood or say the wrong thing.  I can be real.  I can be raw.  I can share exactly what my heart feels and what my mind needs to say.  And I am loved!  I am met right where I am.  God sees me and knows my every tear.

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Having a hope of being a foster mom has been extremely helpful in this healing journey.  Being able to have a focus external to us has been so good for me.  Knowing that I can honor my babies by turning our nursery into a home of hope and healing for other children who have experienced a hurting and broken world feels like the absolute best thing for this momma heart.

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We will have our rainbow baby.  We will hold a child in our arms.  I pray that I will never have to experience another loss of losing my own child.  I have said goodbye to two foster children and two biological babies in the past 2 years.  Foster care will come with more goodbyes.  But those are happier goodbyes.  Those are not always a goodbye forever.   

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In this season we wait.  We hope.  We praise.  We continue to press on with daily life.  We continue to see God first.  We continue to love.

Nine Months Later: A Reflection on Marriage

It has been nine months since my husband and I exchanged our "I Do's" and pledged ourselves to each other in the good times and the bad, through sickness and in health, until death do us part. 

When we began preparing for marriage, there is no way we could have been prepared for what the last nine months have held for us.  I've often heard couples say that marriage is hard; and shortly after marriage, I am convinced that this is true, but that there is no way for one to understand what is meant, or to truly understand the reality of it, until one experiences marriage for themselves.  My husband and I poured over books, sought advice, and prayed together in the days, weeks and months leading up to our wedding.  Then I walked down the aisle and within thirty minutes, all of the time spent devoted to making this day a reality came together and we were Mr. and Mrs.  

Reflecting over the past nine months of marriage, we have had good times and bad times.  We have weathered many storms.  I wish I could say with confidence that the worst of the storms are behind us, but that would be too naive on my part.  There is certainly no certainty in what the future holds.  We are only beginning. 

What we have been through has made us stronger.  That is not to say that it has not shaken us.  We have committed our lives together and have promised that no matter what happens in life, we are on the same team; we need to fight for us and not against each other.  

We process things differently.  We look at what is going on in our lives differently.  We have opposing expectations at times.  We have learned through trial and error how to communicate and still we find ourselves lacking thorough communication at times.  

I had no expectations that we would have marriage figured out within our first year.  I have a mindset that I will be a life long learner with my husband -- perhaps that is one of those expectations in life that I need to make sure that I am communicating with my husband... I want to grow with him, explore with him, learn new things together with him.  

While marriage is harder than I ever could have imagined, marriage is also the best thing I have ever experienced as well.  I am married to my best friend.  We share our deepest secrets and hopes with each other.  We go on adventures together.  We rely on each other in the good times and the trying times.  We help each other grow into better people - not just as a husband and a wife, but also as a son, a daughter, a friend, an employee, and so much more! 

I cannot imagine my life being married to anyone else - I have no desire to even try.  While some days are harder than others, I know that at the end of the day, and every morning when I wake up ... my husband is by my side.  

Communication is key for us; when we fail to communicate our hopes, dreams, desires, or expectations, there are often times hurt feelings.  We have moments where our communication is amazing, and there are moments where we are still learning!  

Every day I choose my husband.  Every day my love for him increases.  God knew what he was doing when he brought the two of us together.  As Proverbs 27:17 reads, "As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another."  I see this at work in our marriage.  I see myself as a better, stronger, individual because of the relationship I have with my husband.  Being married to my husband is one of my greatest joys! 

Trust and Surrender: What's Next

The realization that had we not lost our babies, my relationship with God would not have gone as deep as it has.

At the advise of my wise mother in law, I purchased Alyssa Quilala's book Mending Tomorrow. Within 30 minutes of receiving the book I was immersed with the gold nuggets contained within.

Today's reading began with Psalm 112:7 -

"They will have no fear of bad news;
       their hearts are steadfast, trusting in the Lord."

It immediately took me back to May 11th -- that one day we were at the doctors office, I was laying on the table, holding my husbands hands when we heard, "there is no heartbeat."

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As the tech and doctor put in orders for another scan and prepped another room, I held onto my husband and we began praying and praising.

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The fact that we got called back to the room 30-45 minutes after our initial appointment time.  The fact that my doctor asked first thing if we wanted an early ultrasound (instead of using the Doppler to find a heartbeat).  The fact that although we got there late my doctor caught the ultrasound tech right as she was walking out the door.  Everything fell into place.  God was holding us all along.  I do not believe in coincidences.  I believe everything had been aligned for us for God's greater glory.  The fact that we did not have to try to find a heartbeat at the appointment and then have to live through the weekend for a scan the following week was a complete God-thing.  We rejoice in that!

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Finding joy and having hope in everyday comes easy at moments and feels impossible at other times.

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Knowing that if we never had lost June or Nolan, that my intimacy with God likely never would have reached this depth.  I miss my babies like crazy, but I cannot image my life without my relationship with God.

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Hope exists.  Hope that one day we will have a baby of our own to hold.  Yet not solely focusing on that.

There are children out there, desperate for a home, desperate for love.  My husband and I were planning on pursuing foster care licensure.  I had walked the journey of being a foster mom prior to getting married .. and here we are again considering embarking once again on this journey.  I have lost babies.  These children have lost a whole lot more -- their family, their home, the life they have known.  If my husband and I can enter into their broken hearts and be the middle momma and daddy that they need to heal, then please let us be that for them.

No rush.  It will take some time to get licensed.  It gives us something to hope for while our hearts heal.  I am not entirely sure what will happen, but the process is beginning.  We trust that God will guide us as we venture on this journey.

God did not take away my babies, but I pray that through their passing, they may be honored and that my faith is made stronger.

So here we stand. Surrendering.  Ready for the next step of the journey. 







7 

Three Weeks Later

I barely blinked and the past three weeks are gone.  The past three weeks have literally been a haze as I have tried to navigate through grief.  It has been messy.  It has hurt.  It has been so insanely all over the place emotionally.

Moving forward has happened regardless of whether I have been ready for it or not.  I wanted time to stand still to some degree.  I wanted to feel what I was feeling yet not miss any of what life had to offer.  Life moved on while I stood still.  I did the best I could in the circumstances I had.

Putting on a smile and carrying on is what I am good with.  I am comfortable there.  Sharing the depth of the hurt and pain is a challenge for me.  Sharing the most intimate parts of this journey with my husband; growing, navigating, learning to move through the current.  Easy has never been part of this journey.

Some days are incredibly hard.  Some moments I just want to curl up in a ball and ugly cry.  Other moments I find peace and enjoy the quiet stillness of the day.

My nursery is fully furnished and my sweet baby's "Noley Bear" (the Black Bear stuffed animal that I bought my baby as his first souvenir as we ventured out West together) sits wearing a "You are my Sunshine" cloth diaper on the changing table.  Most days the nursery door is closed; not because of the pain, but simply due to not air conditioning a room that isn't used.  I prefer the door open because I enjoy glancing at the room where our eventual baby will come to reside.

Grieving the loss of my own babies is nothing like anything I have ever experienced.  I did foster care for over a year and had two littles come and go.  When they left I had a brief period of grieving.  But I knew they were back with family and that they would be alright.  It was a good bye, but it was not a permanent separation like miscarriage is.  My foster littles are still out living their lives with their families and my sweet June and Nolan are dancing with Jesus.

I am thankful that my nursery is fully prepped and ready to receive a baby.  I sit in my glider and find great healing.  I think my days of fostering has helped prepare me for losses such as these.  In that respect I am extremely thankful for the journey I have walked. 

I do not have all the answers, heck, I do not even think I have any of the answers.  But I know God is in control.

We do not know what caused the loss of June or Nolan.  We may have some answers in the next few weeks regarding Nolan, but regardless of cause, my love does not change.  My babies knew my heartbeat from the inside.  I held my babies every single day of their short life.  One day I will have a baby to share with the world.  For now though, my husband and I draw close to each other and close to God.  We have picked up dancing as a means to bond and cope in this season.  After two nights we are thoroughly enjoying ourselves and looking forward to continuing to learn and heal together!

To be Happy Once Again ... the journey to being whole once again

"I just want to be happy" is what I hear myself telling my husband and my friends.

Grief.  It is real.  It is raw.  It sucks.

Everything is healing and everything is a trigger at the same time.  Walking on eggshells of my own regarding myself.  I do not know how I will respond to any stimuli.  I want to be okay.  I want to be more than okay.  I want to heal.

Walking through grief is something that I saw others going through, wished them well, prayed for them, and thought "what would I do in their shoes?"  I had no idea how I would respond.  I had no idea what grief for me would look like.  But I thought about it.

In class we are leaning about unrealistic optimism where people generally think that they are better off then just about everyone else around them and when compared to others, they will not experience the same negative outcome in life that other's around them face.  To some degree I have thought about this.  To some degree I have wondered what my reaction to loss would be.

The first three days after learning that our baby Nolan Edward did not have a heartbeat were such a roller coaster.  The first 24 hours were filled with such sorrow and uncertainty.  After the initial shock subsided, I began pleading with God that this was all just a mistake.  That another scan would be done to reveal that our baby did indeed have a heartbeat.  But then day three left me going to be physically feeling the start of what was inevitably my future.  By day four I was in so much physical pain I was praying that it would be over soon.  I was praying that I could make it to the hospital for surgery because I had been through this physical process before and I was not willing to endure it again.

The third day following surgery I was felling amazing.  I was able to get around without much help, I could taper off the pain medicine, I was overall feeling like I was in a better place.  Within 16-18 hours that feel-good-feeling was gone and the pain was quickly spiraling out of control.  No over the counter pain meds were touching the pain I was experiencing.  I ended up calling the on-call OB and she sent in requests for antibiotics, a prescription pain medicine as well as for tests to be run immediately the following morning, but if the pain intensified, to go to the ER.  She had to find a pharmacy that was open 24 hours since it was now late at night and by the time she called me back to tell me which pharmacy it was at, I was already keeled over in so much pain I opted to head straightaway to ER.

ER did not give the answers that I so desperately wanted.  Two ultrasounds, pain pills, and a couple of swabs and samples were done.  "The start of an infection; take these antibiotics and call your doctor if you have any other concerns or the pain worsens."

Three days later ... I am calling the OB office because I am still in pain.  I am at work and taking round the clock over the counter pain pills that are doing nothing.  Maybe a second infection they think.  Come in first thing tomorrow morning.

Still an infection.  The antibiotics from Sunday have done nothing.  Now try stronger antibiotics.  Come back in a week.

And within three days I am feeling so much better.  Still not 100% pain free but I can physically function.

Which then leads right into the emotional aspect of this whole process called grief.

I have certainly been trudging through the murky waters of grief since that awful afternoon of May 11.  But it has been riddled with hope that my baby was still alive, the agony of physical pain and just wanting to miscarry already so the pain would be over, to going through surgery and recovery, to an even more painful infection ... that finally 15 days after learning my baby had died, I could allow the lid to come off from the intensely building emotions and feel what I wish I would have been able to feel from day 1.

Grief.  It has certainly not been anything close to a walk in the park.  The sorrow that overtakes me is unbearable at times.  The tears that flow, the emotions that fluctuate, the hormones that are trying to regulate.  It has been absolute torture.

The learning how to navigate these new waters has been scary.  Often I feel like I am in a canoe by myself trying to propel and steer at the same time.  Spinning in circles.  Spiraling out of control.  Hitting every rock along the way.  Getting sucked downstream further .. and further .. and further.

My husband has been amazing through this process.  He definitely processes differently than myself, but his strong and steady emotions have been extremely healing for my weary soul.

I have been working through devotional plans everyday on loss, grief, miscarriage, and longing to be a mother.  Often I do more than one devotion a day just because I need to be re-grounded in scripture and truth.  Without God I cannot imagine trying to process this grief.

Others have reached out to us sharing their story, sharing their daughter's story, sharing their wife's story.  Knowing we are not the first to walk this lonely journey has been healing.  Talking about my babies has been the most healing.  Knowing that others want to hear about the journey brings me great joy and gives me permission to grieve in the way that brings me the most healing.

I have jumped right back into normal life the best I could.  I went back to work after a week off.  I only missed one class period of summer classes.  Staying in this place of unknown scares me greatly.

Only though time and the good grace of God will I come out stronger on the other side.  Only though this experience will I be able to relate to other women who have gone through this and who will go through it.  I pray that no one else has to experience this grief and heartache yet I understand that we live in a broken world and that so much of this heartache is inevitable.

Working through grief sucks.  This whole experience of losing my babies sucks.  It is awful.

I am thankful for the grace and patience of my husband and my family and friends.  Grieving the loss of Nolan Edward has been so much harder than losing baby June Rose.  Everything has been magnified a thousand times.  The pain, the endurance, the time ...

Healing is happening.  Slowly.  But healing is happening.  I will be restored.  I will embrace my new normal.  I will take time to feel the feels and process the emotions.  It will not be perfect, but it will be mine.