Life.

As we near the day, one year ago, that we lost our precious Number 3, I am completely overwhelmed with so many emotions...

That day tragically welcomed me... initiated me... into a 'club' that no one ever wants to be  a part of.

Can I be honest?

I had spent years.... YEARS.... basking in the comfort of 'just knowing' that we had been through enough heartache, enough pain and disappointment, that God would spare us from that.

 Right?!

Of course He would.

We had met our max... had experienced more than our fair share of failed infertility treatments, month after month... year after year of 'trying', too many failed matches, quite a few frantic packing sessions and plan making and plane-ticket-buying only to end up empty handed...

and at the end of it all, at least I could take comfort in the fact that, because of our infertility.... because we simply couldn't get pregnant in the first place... that my Jesus would save us from that... the unmentionable.... that thing that no one talks about...

miscarriage....

and ultimately, the death of a baby.

Don't get me wrong, we have lost DOZENS of babies in our 8 years of marriage...

but every one of them is walking and talking and living today...

not with us...

but they are.

And that loss, though different, never leaves you alone, either....

I know each one by name. I knew and loved their mama's with all my heart. We planned for them... prepared our home and hearts for them. They will always be part of our 'extended' family...

but they're still there... somewhere.

And I think about each one of the every single day.

And then it happened...

A surprise pregnancy came with elation and amazement at the miracles He has done in our lives...

and then it was gone.

Our precious #3.

And our world was shattered.

It took months for me to work through what had happened....

How did God think we could handle this?!

How do you have sex for 8 years... TRY for so long... and then just 'happen' to get pregnant?!

How can God bless you in such an enormous, life changing way... and then rip it from your grasp so tragically?

I was so mad. At God. 

But then it happened again...

And here we are.... 1 year since we lost our #3, 24 weeks into my second pregnancy, and about 15 weeks away from meeting our newest son...

A boy!

I've spent the past couple of months trying to figure out what to write... how to write.

I remember 'those blogs'... I've read dozens of them;

infertility, adoption, loss... and a surprise pregnancy...

and all of a sudden, all of those things that bound us... the one's we had in common... the desperate emotions I felt that were so perfectly placed into sentences were replaced with belly pictures and comparisons of babies to fruit...

those things were gone. The pain of infertility? It was somehow gone.

So I stopped reading.

I won't do that here... I refuse.... but that explains my silence recently...

As miraculous and as exciting as this time in our lives is, our precious fruit-sized baby doesn't change the fact that infertility has defined me for so long.

I'm still infertile.

And I know that that's a tough one to swallow but friends, it's true....

A pregnancy can't erase the years and years of longing and dreaming and suffering and crying out to Jesus...

because those moments, that heartache, is responsible for who I am today.

Those times define major milestones in my faith and my relationship with my Jesus... with my husband. They collected and accumulated to make me the mom I am to our 2 miracles through adoption...

they will make me the mom I will be to our newest baby, too.

So here I am...

31 years old.... 8 years since we started trying to get pregnant... 2 adoptions in to the growth of our beautiful family... dozens of losses through adoption and 1 tragic loss of our first homegrown baby... 24 weeks into our second pregnancy... 15 weeks away from meeting our second son...

and I'm still infertile.

And I'm terrified.

I know how to do infertile....

I'm a pro.

Growing a baby? Remembering with every glance in the mirror at my growing belly and with every somersault and kick that this is what my heart desired... remembering that this is what I asked for, what I longed for...

finding comfort in the fulfillment of His promises...

and trying so desperately to trust...

that we won't lose this one, too.

My heart still aches for our precious #3... and my arms ache for our #4.

I'm wishing time away, friends...

counting down the days, minutes, and seconds until I can finally hold this sweet baby boy.

And as 'that day' one year ago closes in, I've spent so much time grasping for closure to the tragedy that we experienced just one year ago... trying to find purpose in the lowest low and now the highest high of God's plan for us... trying to answer those questions of 'how' and 'why'...

and it's only recently that I've discovered something;

I will never find 'purpose' in death.

And it's actually ok that Jesus chose this to be part of our story... it's painful and I wish he had chosen to let our sweet #3 stay... but it's ok.

God never promises life on Earth...

He DOES promise life in eternity.

John 3:16- For God so loved the world that he gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him will NOT die but have eternal LIFE.

Our earthly bodies and minds will never be able to accept death... we're not supposed to... we're not built with the capacity to rationalize something as terrible and as painful as losing those we love; the ones Jesus put in our lives to strengthen and teach us and help us grow.

The purpose we can find is in life... even if that life flashed by in the blink of an eye.

Our only goal as parents is to raise our children to know Jesus... their creator... the writer of their stories... the author of the miracles that gave them to us...

and by doing that, Joey and I know that our family will one day be complete and whole in Heaven.

What greater gift can you give your family than life in eternity together and the hope that comes with knowing we'll never have to live apart?

The loss of our precious #3 will hurt every day until the day we are all together again...

but we will be together again. And that's the promise I've found in the loss of our baby... Jesus helped us fulfill our deepest desire as parents; to see our babies in eternity... whenever He's ready for us.

And that is the purpose I have found in the short, but oh-so-sweet life of our #3. That sweet baby is waiting for us, giving us purpose and comfort here in this life, allowing us to rest in the knowledge that someone is waiting for us... waiting to complete us.

And this baby... Our #4... our son?

Every wave and every kick reminds me that, while 'infertile' will always be a word that defines me... while loss still feels so close and raw... while fear and anxiety stand at the cusp of stealing my joy...

 new life is coming.

I'm learning how to do this thing called 'pregnant'... it's not easy. I'm learning that the miracles that create life inside of one and place it in her arms are full of as many unknowns and challenges as the miracles that create life inside one and place it in the arms of another.

Today I am grateful for the short life of our #3 and rest in knowing that he/she is safely waiting for me in the arms of Jesus...

and I'm grateful for the life inside of me that reminds me throughout each day that life is what we are promised...

Whether we find the fulfillment of that promise here on Earth...

or in eternity with him.

#4

We found ourselves in a fog after losing our precious #3...

traveling through the shock of finding ourselves pregnant after EIGHT years off birth control... 4 years of infertility testing/ medication/ treatments/ charting/ timing, 6 IUI's, 2 beautiful adoptions, and accepting... no... loving the perfect plan of building our family through adoption.

The loss of our #3 left us in a shock unlike any other... the questions we had about the future of our family grew exponentially... counseling... depression... helping our tender 30 year old hearts heal... and helping one precious 5 year old heart heal, too...

Our once-dreaded due-date came and brought with it so much joy... reminders that we aren't alone, that #3 will never be forgotten, that our pain is not just our own... 

We had cake to bring what we are sure was a Heavenly celebration for our #3 down to Earth...

and then...

"Mommy, I know our new baby will LOVE birthday cake on his birthday next year!'

Our smart girl gives us goosebumps when she does that... remember this? And this?

So I knew.... on our precious 3's *should be* due-date... that something big was coming...

and then...

exactly 12 days later...

Our 'next baby' sure will have a birthday THIS YEAR.

Jesus told her heart... and this year it will be.

Our hearts will always ache for our precious #3... time will never heal that wound... and #4 will never take his or her place in our hearts...

and fear still threatens to creep in daily...

but we will forever be grateful that His mercies are new every morning...

and for the new place He has created for our newest baby-love...

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
    his mercies never come to an end;

they are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.

Lamentations 3:22-23

** It sounds counter-intuitive, but this was a difficult announcement to make... because I know how painful these announcements were to read not too long ago. There's still so much I don't understand... HOW do people get pregnant in the first place?! It's not as simple as having sex... I promise... we tried that for 8 years. WHY are we able to get pregnant all of a sudden? People don't get MORE fertile as they get older! Not even our doctors understand this. If you're reading this and you're who I was not too long ago, please know how much I understand. Please know how much I DON'T understand! And please stick around to help me as I work through the fear, unknowns, and learn how to do this new part of life... while still knowing how *infertile* I really still am! 

3*25*14

Tomorrow is the due-date of our precious #3.

On Saturday, we celebrated our sweet boy's 2nd birthday and our sweet girl's 1/2 birthday (because that's what you do for big sisters ;-))....

And I wish with all my heart that we were spending today anticipating a birth... another birth-day at any moment.

Over the past 9 months(ish), there have been so many pivitol... terrifying... dreadful... days. The day of our D&E... that first Monday when life was supposed to go back to normal, but didn't... The post-op...

And tomorrow. Our due-date. 

It's a day we looked forward to for what seemed like forever...

And it's turned into a day I've dreaded since then.

Since the day we lost our #3.

My heart hurts.

Due-dates don't carry much weight in a typical pregnancy... it's an estimate... a guess. 

But when you've lost your precious baby... a due-date is all you have. 

As the dates on the calendar have drawn closer and closer to tomorrow, I realize that what I feared most about this date was feeling empty or hopeless...

But here I am and I don't feel empty... or hopeless.

My life is full of so many amazing things... and people.

My days are busy.

I'm just sad.

And what hurts the most as tomorrow closes in on me, are the 'if... then's'....

If I was still pregnant.... then what would my body look like?

If I was pregnant... then my family would be in town right now.

If our baby was on the way... then we would be preparing our home and H2 for a new baby.

If our baby wasn't in Heaven... then he/she would be in our arms soon. 

If we hadn't gotten pregnant... then tomorrow would be just like any other day.

If we hadn't lost our baby... then tomorrow could be his/her birthday.

If we hadn't gotten pregnant... if we hadn't miscarried... if we were still pregnant... if our baby was still here...

if, if, if, if.

They all run together, eventually.

Those are the hard parts... the if's... and the 'thens'.

Nothing about losing a baby or a child feels ok...

everything about it hurts.

But my heart is not broken for us or for our baby...

because we are going to be ok... and our baby is safe and healthy and whole with our Jesus in Heaven.

Right now, my heart is breaking for what could have been....

for the seemingly ridiculous things about expecting a baby that just don't seem ridiculous when you'd give anything to be doing them;

nesting... feeling fat... anticipating how our labor and delivery story will end... birth-plans... packing hospital bags...  walking ... the first contractions... 

My heart is breaking for the dreams I had, even if only for a couple short months.

And right now... for one day... I'm going to let myself miss what could have been...

because I'll be forever grateful for what is.

Our #3... always in our hearts... and in our kitchen, too.

Why I can't say 'thank you'...

We were completely overwhelmed at the love we received when we lost our #3...

phone calls... emails... text messages... cards... flowers... Edible Arrangements...comments here and on Facebook... meals... dinner gift cards to give us a break from the day-to-day... hand-made treasures with so much love behind them... jewelry that symbolizes our loss but also what we still have... reminders of God's promises... 

each one came at the exact moment that we needed them the most.

Each one, a gift.

A show that a friend knows I watch every week... the episode that week was focused on one character's pregnancy. Knowing how difficult that might be for me to watch, her text came at the exact moment that I felt the room get hazy and the tears threatened to fall.

The shower is my sanctuary...  one of my favorite places in the world.... the most anticipated part of each day. It's where I can break... where I can be weak. It's the only place I can go where I can't hear the rest of the world... and it can't hear me. I took so many showers in those weeks following the loss of #3... cleanliness was the furthest thing from my mind but I couldn't handle how guilty I felt at being sad around people, anymore. In my showers I would let myself fall apart, sob, cry out to God to help me heal... and every time I stepped out of the shower, I had a new text or email... words of encouragement and love from someone whom God had spoken to at the exact moment that I needed love the most.

Nap-times were hard... a quiet house and a loud mind. I'd sit on the couch and watch TV... it was the only way I could handle being alone with myself. A trip to the mailbox was the most productive I could make myself for an afternoon.... it was also the hardest; the simple act of walking from my couch to my mailbox gave my mind enough time to wake-up... to think. And inevitably, those dreaded few steps would cause my thoughts to wander and the tears would threaten to fall.... and God would wrap those moments up in precious little packages inside of my mailbox; hand-written notes, sentimental cards, tiny wrapped gifts. Every moment was one that had been pre-ordained... pre-planned by my Jesus that is bigger than my pain... evidence that He works ahead of every step I take, in the minds of every person who wrote those cherished words or touched those treasured gifts.

Even among all of the pain and confusion and sadness, there was one thing haunted me... it lingered in the back on my mind, making my long-ignored to-do list, making my escape impossible....

thank you notes.

I take them seriously... my mom and dad put so much emphasis while I was growing up on how important it is to send thank you notes. Any gift is a display of love and represents precious time and often-times, money that someone set aside just for you... time and money they sacrificed with only you in mind. A thank you note is such a small display of gratitude, no matter how big or small a gift you receive.

I have never found myself in a position where I just didn't want to write... or couldn't write... a thank you note. I look forward to writing them... I enjoy letting someone know how much they are appreciated and that the time and thought they put into me did not go unnoticed.

But these thank you's?

I have a stack of them.... all started... every one of them, unfinished.

For months, every time I sat down to try and put my gratitude into words, the tears would flow even harder.... I found myself so overcome with so many different emotions, that words just didn't sound right...

A simple 'thank you'... for unspoken encouragement, for strength, for saving me in one of the darkest times of my life...

it wasn't enough.

And every note I started to write turned into a gushy mess.... an unloading of emotion, twinged with the tears that I just couldn't stop.

Grief mixed with gratefulness results in emotions that can't be explained in words.

This was new to me... a loss of words, in a note that should carry so much of my heart in it... but my heart was broken... and my words were, too.

So those 'thank you's' never came...

I didn't mail even 1.

Somehow, allowing those emotions to flow all the way from my head to my heart, and from my heart through my arm, and into my pen was just allowing them to move through me too much... it made the pain worse... made it unbearable.

I owe an apology to so many people who mean so much to me... my parents, my mother and sister in law, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, babysitters, friends, friends of friends, parents of friends, doctors and nurses... the list goes on.

To every one of you~

Your note has been written... but it remains unfinished. Expressing my gratitude and gratefulness for your thoughtfulness and selflessness in one of the most difficult times of our lives ... it was an impossible task for me to complete.

I am so sorry.

I am so thankful....

and I am so sorry.

Your love for us is overwhelming... your love for our #1, #2, and #3 is profound.

While I can't thank each of you for how you displayed your love and care for us during those few weeks, I can thank you for this...

for following God's prompting in your heart.

Thank you for listening to his voice, no matter how quiet it sounded. Thank you for the precious minutes and hours, the written words, the dollars and cents, the prayers and the thoughts you devoted to us when there were so many other people and things vying for your attention.

Thank you.

But... what means more to me than any note or gift or symbol of your care and concern is the lesson I have learned through your thoughtfulness;

Those simple acts of kindness... the ones that take so little time or energy but translate into a million times their weight in gold... those never go un-noticed...

they are never forgotten.

God's prompting in our hearts... Especially when they concern another one of His most beloved?

His promptings are never 'casual'... but they always require a simple act on our part.

Listen. Follow. Do.

As our sweet girl's half-birthday, our baby-boy's 2nd birthday, and our #3's due-date are all just days around the corner, I'm reminded of what we have, what we could have lost, and of what we have lost...

and I'm reminded that I'm not the only one who has, who has almost lost, and who has lost.

While I can't find a way to write the words to say 'thank you', my thankfulness will outlast any words on a card with every text, every phone call, every sweet gift, every note on a card as I challenge myself to BE the one who encourages and remembers and prays and helps...

because I will never forget those who have been the encourager or texter or caller or gifter or writer ...

for me.

Bear with me over the next couple weeks as I continue to process the huge life events that are just around the corner. This season is hard... and I intend to be honest.

 I know you expect no less ... and my prayer is always that God will find a way to speak through His plan for my life and into His plan for yours...

and I'm up for that challenge, too.

When I was pregnant...

I have so much trouble saying that out loud....

I feel like a liar when I say it...

when I write it.

And I've been putting off writing this post for.... for way too long. I'd sit down and start writing and I would allow myself to be overcome with shame... embarrassment...

because those 10 weeks don't count to some people. 

I know because they told me....

in posts supporting abortion, or articles about 'fetuses' and how they're not really babies, and in the look on their face when I mention my own short pregnancy.

Maybe I was 'only' pregnant for 10 weeks... maybe that doesn't 'count' to some people... maybe my experience was short-lived and incomplete...

but our baby?

He/she was real... living and moving inside of me ... he/she was loved and wanted and his/her life meant something to us... Meant something to our village... Our people.

So, here's our story... the one I need to write, for me... and the one I think so many need to read, for them. 

But if you're one of them... one of those people who is responsible for making me feel ashamed or embarrassed when I talk about 'when I was pregnant'... then you can just move on...

you're not welcome here... in our baby's story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I was pregnant...

I wasn't 'late' yet but I knew something was different... of all the tests I've taken and of all the symptoms I've make-believed over the past 8 years and of all the days I've counted... I still knew that this one was different. I was tired.. exhausted. 

And that was it.

The kids were napping and I'll be honest, I was bored. The Sex and the City marathon was getting old... I'd already seen every episode. So I took a test. 

I texted my mom a picture... "WTF?!?!"

(Sorry.)

Her reply? "What is that?!"

Me: "I don't know! What is it?!"

Mom: "I'm the WRONG person to ask... I've been pregnant ONE TIME and we didn't even have those tests back then!"

So I texted a friend... "WTF?!?!"

(Sorry.)

And when her name popped up as an incoming call in a matter of seconds, I knew for sure...

I was pregnant.

I woke the kids up and ran to Target to get a dummy test because, well...

I'm a dummy.

Still pregnant.

I've always dreamed of how I would tell my husband that we're pregnant... sweet shirts for the kids, balloons at work, a cake, dinner made entirely of 'baby' food...

All he got was a sobbing me, covered in snot, and shaking.

(You're welcome, sweetie ;-))

When you've tried for 7 years and 'can't' get pregnant, you have no need for an OB... I've never had one. My internist confirmed my pregnancy and referred me to an OB who could see me in 6 weeks... so I called around and found one who could see me the next day.

Type A. Remember me? :-)

When I look back on those 10 weeks, what stands out to me are the dozens of gifts that God gave to us... memories and mementos of our precious #3....

My over-reaction (not an entirely new thing for me)? My insistence that I see someone NOW?

This time, it was a gift.

Joey and I were able to see our beautiful, precious, perfect #3 three times in the 'short' 10 weeks that we had with him/her. I've learned that this is more times than most people are allowed to see their baby in complete pregnancies.

The ultra-sound pictures?

Gifts. One's I will cherish for the rest of my life.

So much happened in 10 weeks... 

Everyone feels differently about when to announce a pregnancy... some wait until their first ultra-sound (which for us would have been 6 weeks), some wait until the end of their first trimester, and some wait until their gender ultrasound...

We've had so many 'secrets' to keep in the past; secrets that kept us from getting the encouragement and support and prayer that we so desperately needed when tough things came up.

So this time? This time we didn't hesitate.... we wanted the world to know about our precious #3!

The memories we have of telling Hannah about her newest baby brother or sister....

another gift.

We enjoyed every second of telling our closest friends and family... and we got every reaction in the book; dropped phones, dead silence, disbelief, even momentary anger that we would 'make something like that up'... and ultimately, dozens more people who shared in our joy and amazement at our third miracle.

The 'announcement party' we threw for some out of town family when we visited... those memories and pictures?

Gifts.

The changes in my body... both temporary and permanent... all daily reminders of the life that was inside of me... all ways in which our sweet #3 has a presence in my daily life...

Gifts.

The family photos I came so close to canceling...

 

Gifts.

Those 10 weeks passed too quickly... If I could freeze a moment in time, I would pick any day out of those precious weeks just to capture Hannah's excitement at becoming a big sister, yet again... Hunter's pure naivety... our parents' joy... my husband's eyes...

frozen.

But...

'That day' was terrible.

 We knew about a week before that something was wrong. I'd been seen a couple times that week just for our peace of mind, and each time we saw our healthy, growing baby...

Gifts.

... still, we knew something wasn't right.

I don't know what it was about the hours leading up to that moment...

in hindsight, I know God was preparing me as best he could.

My fervent prayer ....

"Heavenly Father... If our baby is gone.... if this is over... please tell me before. Somehow, someway... please. Let me know... please just let me know."

Over and over again.

Looking back, I guess I already knew... because if I hadn't, my prayer would have sounded different... more hopeful.

And it's not that my hope was gone... it just wasn't in my 'now'... In that moment.

"Choose joy", people say.

It's my least favorite line.

Sometimes, you can't choose joy. Sometimes God's silent tug at your heart trumps any chance we have to choose joy...

It was his way of answering that prayer of mine...

It was his way of preparing me. His way of telling me.

I remember walking into the ultra-sound room;

Joey's mom had come with us that morning... my mom had come to our previous appointment and we wanted his mom to see her next grand-baby, too. Joey and his mom sat down next to the table and I went into the bathroom to change into a gown. I remember locking the door and standing with my back against it...

"Lord, please. Tell me now."

And he did.

In a matter of seconds, the bleeding started and I knew...

our baby... our precious #3...

 was gone.

I dropped to the bathroom floor...

I was completely overwhelmed. I was crushed... the pain, physical and emotional, was unbearable.

 I was overwhelmed with gratitude... He did answer my prayer... He told me, just like I asked him to...

and he had given me a few precious minutes to prepare myself for what I'd soon not see on the ultra-sound screen.

Those few minutes were another gift.

I changed into the gown... not an easy task when you're bleeding...

I was terrified...

I opened the door and found Joey's eyes immediately....

my eyes told him.

I told the nurse what had happened and layed down on the table.

Joey took my hand as the nurse probed...

We had seen our #3 enough times that we knew what we were seeing as the ultra-sound progressed...

So we knew what we weren't seeing, too.

This same nurse had done our previous ultra-sounds and she had become a familiar face, a comfort to me, and I didn't want her to have to say it... So I did...

"There's no baby."

The sweet nurse and Joey's mom left us alone for a few minutes as we sat in a heap on the ultra-sound table... I remember feeling paralyzed.... broken.

I told Joey I was sorry...

it wasn't an "I messed up" or "I did something wrong" sorry...

It was an "I know your heart is broken and I want so badly to make it better" sorry.

I don't remember much else from that day... we met with the doctor, scheduled my D&E for the next morning,  drove home...

we sat down with Hannah and explained to her that our baby had gone to Heaven... that Jesus wanted him/her to be with him and that we'll be able to see him/her one day...

And that was all I could handle. I went to bed.

Joey's mom was our rock that day... my heart broke for her, too. We had wanted so badly for her to see our newest miracle. She was quiet and caring, giving us the space we needed while letting us feel comforted by her presence... and when we got home, she and Joey's sister were 'me' that night when I couldn't be... and they helped Joey be him, too. Their support stretched into the next day, too...

The next day? I talk about it here.


Our #3 is gone...

but our #3 isn't far.

The memories flood in every day... my body reminds me of those 10 weeks daily... our sweet girl misses 'our baby' weekly.

People say that the pain goes away... but it doesn't.

Joy and thankfulness can overshadow the pain but it always creeps back in. You find ways to numb it... ways to hold on tightly to the tangible... but you still ache for the intangible.

I'm still learning how to 'do' this life without our #3...

I'm learning how to slowly open my heart back up to God's plan for me... This part of his plan wasn't ok with me... and I've learned that It's ok to be angry with his plan.

I'm learning that miscarriage feels the same for every woman.... it's devastating and excruciating.

I'm learning that what comes next is not the same for every woman... the weeks and months 'after' don't bring always renewed hope for everyone...

And I'm learning how to find hope in His plan, instead of getting lost in what's missing from my 'now'.

And against everything in me that tried to avoid it, I'm learning how to deal with our infertility once again... a process that took me years... and might take me years more.

I'm learning that my pregnancy changed our infertility status in many peoples' minds... but it hasn't changed in mine.

I'm learning how to pray again... because answers to prayer that come in the form of pain and grief make future prayers more difficult to pray.


I've already learned that, Joey and I... our hearts might shatter.... but we never will.

I've learned that our precious girl is a source of strength and faith for me... an example of the purity of youth and the trusting heart of one of God's most eager learners.

I've learned that my plans are sometimes imagined... made up of the desires of my heart.

I've learned that God's plans feel concrete in the moment.... But look flexible and forgiving in hindsight.

Our due-date is close... 

In the next few weeks we will help a couple of our most precious friends ... Friend who cried with us and prayed for us so many times... We'll help them welcome their new babies... 

And that will be amazing.

And it will be hard, too.

But those babies? I love them already. They symbolize the parts of God's plan that are life-giving and life-sustaining.

And in the next few weeks, I'm going to need those reminders.

I can't wait to meet them!

And our #3....

I'll keep learning and changing and loving my precious #1 and #2 until I get to meet my #3...

And that part of God's plan, I'm ok with.

What Not To Say Part VI: The Grieving Friend

Grief; deep sorrow, especially that caused by someones death. Misery. Sadness. Anguish. Pain. Agony. Heartbreak. Desolation. Despair. Torment.

Those words are so real to me.

Maybe they are to you, too....

And I was going to wait for this post because some might see it as a cry out from me or a complaint... But really, I just have too many hurting friends. It's needed.... I needed it then and they need it now.

Grief is what I believe to be the most raw and unforgiving emotion in existence. It follows you.... a dark shadow that you wish you could run from. In moments when the light seeps in, you know in the back of your mind that it's still right around the corner... waiting. It's a memory full of now fruitless hopes and dreams... a wish that came true in the cruelest of ways.

A lifetime without feeling the reality of those words wouldn't be long enough.

There isn't a rule book or a simple 'hot-to' for the walk through grief.

And there really isn't a rule book that outlines what to say to someone who is grieving.

Holding someone to any kind of standard in the cycle of grief just doesn't seem fair.... it isn't fair....

but in our purest desire to comfort and console, I've learned that sometimes.... just sometimes... a phrase that feels gentle and positive on it's way out.... can feel abrasive and painful on the receiving end.

I spent the past 7 weeks trying my hardest to wade through the never-ending tide of grief as I find my new normal without our precious #3. I have felt supported and encouraged by so many friends and family members who have soldiered around me to offer their strength in moments when I have none... in moments when the tide is coming and I just don't know if I'm going to find a way to move in time. The waves of sadness and anguish are often-times unexpected and they can be overwhelming... but they're always allowed.

"I'm praying for you." "I'm here if you need me." "What can we do to help?" "How are you holding up?"

But there's one.... that one comment that seems to be the most encouraging and uplifting on the surface.... and it's the one that carries the most potential to cause even deeper hurt.

"Aren't you so thankful for the 2 babies that you do have?"
"Just look at everything you have been blessed with."
"Doesn't this make you even more grateful?"

The most common response to grief.... coming from a place of concern... sinks into a place that cues guilt and shame.

As soon as those words are uttered, the conversation is over. The person who is hurting has no choice but to move on from the conversation ... a conversation that was necessary and needed.

"I'm so thankful for them!" "I am so blessed!" "I've never been more grateful!"

but the words hang close, leaving the taste of an implied sense of failure in the one who is grieving...

Those comments carry within them a challenge of sorts.... an "I dare you", so to speak.

The griever hears something completely different...

"How dare you focus so much on the loss of this baby when you have 2 right in front of you?"
"When will you move on and enjoy the things you do have?"
"Let's stop talking about this and talk about something else."

they carry the implication that your sadness isn't fair to your family.... or that you're taking too much time to grieve.... or that the moment is gone and it's time to move on...

But the thing about grief?

Rehashing over and over again to you.... is healing to them. Repetitious darkness and sadness to you... turn into a balm of hope and enlightenment for them.


How can I support someone wading through the quick-sand of grief?


One of my very best friends had distanced herself some in the week or so after our miscarriage and one day her text came...

"I just don't know what to say. I know you're hurting and I wish I could help but I don't know how. It's ok to hurt. I'm so sorry, Lindsay."

And that was enough. No expectations. No instructions or suggestions.

When grief consumes you, the permission to hurt keeps you afloat... but it's the knowledge that you'll never be left alone, no matter how much time passes or how long the sadness lasts or who you are on the other side, that brings the most healing to someones heart.

The day before Jesus died on the cross for the sins of the world (John 3:16), he asked his closest friends to sit with him in the garden of Gethsemane while he prayed and the Bible says that he 'plunged into an agonizing sorrow."

Grief.

"This sorrow is crushing my life out of me. Stay here please, and keep watch over me."

Jesus didn't want to be alone. He didn't ask for his friends to help him devise a plan or want them to fix the inevitable.

While Jesus grieved... in the moments when he was wrecked with anguish and torment over what he was facing, his friends got bored. They fell asleep.

"Can't you stick it out with me a single hour? Stay awake for me!"
(Matthew 26:36-46)

Being the friend of someone in pain is not a job to be taken lightly... even Jesus' request for support in his darkest hour was too much for his friends to handle. It's hard. Walking this kind of path with someone can turn into a long-term position.... and it can be just as hard for the friend as it is for the one in need.


So you ask again...


How can I support someone wading through the quick-sand of grief?


Let them hurt. Remind them often that you hurt because they hurt. Be with them. Stay awake and alert.

And one day... hopefully not too soon... but one day... you'll have the most amazing friend keeping watch for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Click below to read through the What Not To Say series...

Part I: What not to say to someone struggling with infertility

Part II: Infertility Part II

Part III: What not to say to an adoptive parent

Part IV: What not to say to a birth mom

Part V: What not to say to a waiting, hopeful adoptive parent

Every man and his threesome...

This post is about periods.

And I will use a bad word.

Don't say I didn't warn you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arriving at age 13, she decided to grace me with her presence at school.

Our relationship got off on the wrong foot and only went downhill from there.

We did have a few years of our 'honeymoon phase' when we really, did quite well together ...

In our early years, while I waited patiently for the promises that come with a girl's first period... curves in all the right places, new emotions and interests, and budding maturity... we sampled ice cream as we tried to choose which flavor would suit us, tested a few heating pads and found one we both liked, grew close to our dermatologist, tried on many brands of 'product' for size and argued over which one was best for our lifestyle, we took moonlit walks and dreamed of having babies....

I'm still waiting on those curves.

Our relationship, while never consisting of life-long potential, was bearable... predictable.

And then we got married.

As my soon-to-be husband and I travelled through 2 months of pre-marital counseling, we were prepared the best ways possible for the many challenges that we would face as husband and wife...

finances, house-hold chores, Biblical roles within marriage, jobs, parenting... we covered them all.

All but one.

Why does no one prepare a new husband and wife for the inevitable havoc that a woman's period will wreak within the precious walls of marriage?!

Joey had a mom and a sister, yes... but he was NOT ready for life with me and my period!!

My poor husband. Unbeknownst to him, the term 'threesome' would mean something entirely different in the walls of marriage....

and it wouldn't be a dream come true.

Let's define 'period'.... a blood-bath of hormones and pain and well, blood that repeats itself every 2.5-3 weeks of every year.

If you're wondering why I keep referring to my period as 'her' it's because a period is not that we 'do... it's not a verb. It's not something that is done to us... it's not an explanation of something. A period is a noun.... not a place, not a thing... a single entity that consists of it's own emotions and agenda and personality. She.

She changes everything....

As hard as we try to neatly wrap and fold and double flush, there's only so much we can do....  we're well aware of how disgusting it is to take out the trash. In the same way, we dig and bury and hide any evidence in the laundry pile the best we can. The household's toilet paper use and the monthly budget... both affected greatly by our unwelcome monthly guest. We know that she has erased any chance our husband ever had of being entitled to having a bad day.... ever. Our sex life changes, too... but it's no secret that, at times, she is our only not-so-secret weapon.

And the hormones..... are completely misunderstood!

Let me explain...

When 'on the rag', yes, hormones change... commercials become sadder (or happier... or scarier...), a simple question or well-intentioned comment become off-handed and are an open invitation to the pent-up, smart-ass response we've been secretly harboring, and a normally welcomed hug warrants the biting off of your head.

But there's another side to the 'bitch' that doesn't get quite enough credit and I'd like to introduce her...

the part of us that is 'lazy' is the part that cringes every time we stand up or bends over or picks up a child because we are reminded each time we do of where the word 'tide' came from in the term 'crimson tide'... and there's no stopping it.

 the part of us that refuses 'spooning' is the part of us that climbs, oh so carefully into bed with the goal of finding the most comfortable position in as little time and with as little movement as possible because we will remain in that position for the entire night knowing that if we move, the tide returns... but in bed? Things become a whole lot more complicated.

the part of us that 'holds it' in the morning until we're in physical pain is the part that is knows that anything we need to do in that bathroom is humiliating and can't be done in mixed company.

the part of us that might usually smirk at a light smack on the butt gets angry at any attention... from our husband, a  stranger, a dog... directed at the entire center region of our body and for many reasons; for the products that are holding us together, for the extreme effort we make to 'hold it in', and for the possibly, possibly-non irrational fear that we smell anything but 'sweet'.

the part of us that is well aware that if anyone, and I mean anyone single-handedly bled THIS much from any part of their body, it would warrant a 911 call, many many stitches, and possible surgery.... and we'd GLADY take all 3 as a fair trade every month.

She is responsible for 95% of those 'hormones' that get so much attention.

No one prepares you for this dirty little secret.... it goes so far beyond a week of rampant emotions and an overlapping week of just plain grossness. It changes things....

It turns your marriage into a three-some.

It's the shadow that hangs over the household no matter how hard she tries to hide it.

For a man, it makes her untouchable.... and why does that seem to make her more desirable?!

For a woman, it makes her disgusting, revolting even, to herself and nothing anyone can say can change that.

Side note.... Why don't women on TV have periods?!

 Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda don't get them. Meredith, Bailey, Addison, Arizona, Callie, and Christina.... don't get periods. Even the Teen Mom girls don't get them!

A period and ovulation.... the only two things that must happen in order for a woman's body to have the ability to conceive.

And one of them NEVER happens on TV!

Rant over.

My period, regardless of the mutual respect we once had for each other, has never done me any favors. The curves? Still waiting. The budding maturity? Depends on the day. Ovulation? Got that down. Marriage? We're a three-some. Conceiving? Negative.

Until....

We are now 4 weeks post-D&E. We lost our precious #3 four weeks ago. My sweet husband and I had been a two-some for the first time in our entire marriage for 4 full months....

And like clock-work, our three-some returned.

I won't get into a 'post- D&E' explanation with you ... but let me just say...

I hate her.

In the day of Adam and Eve, the consequence of Adam's disobedience was a life-time of work. God's punishment for Eve's disobedience is commonly thought to be the pain of child-birth.... and, even though I haven't experienced child-birth, I can see how that's rough.

But here's the thing.

I might never experience child-birth... but I suffer the consequences of Eve's disobedience every.single.month. And this month? This month is rough.

This month, I hate her.

Eve.

Well... and my period.

The pain and discomfort and emotions? They're all different this month... so much worse.... so much messier..... so much more emotional and painful and scary; emotionally, physically, and spiritually.  And they probably will be for a while, I'm guessing.

This girl? This month? My list of excuses is long.... really long.

Once in a while, life's a bitch. And once in a while, a girl deserves to be one, too.

 Period.

Normal... With a Side of Rant and a Few Apologies

I have decided that the details of our miscarriage are unimportant....

and I refuse to become 'that' girl. You know, the one who's blog(s) I spent over a week pouring over as I looked for my own diagnosis.... why was I bleeding? why did I have cramps? could this be a 'normal' part of pregnancy? maybe there's still hope? what if it's just twins? why do my boobs still hurt? why am I STILL bleeding? what's a D&E?

Is my baby really gone?

Hi. My name is Lindsay. I'm a Googler.

In this case, I'm thankful for every chat room and for every experience I read about as I tried desperately to make sense out of the things my body was doing that just didn't make sense.... those forums were how I 'knew'.

But I won't be one of them.

We have spent this past week and a half feeling completely immersed in love. Cards, flowers, Edible Arrangements, meals, emails, texts, phone calls, messages, comments.... we've been on the receiving end of an overwhelming outpouring of compassion. Every tiny piece of thoughtfulness has come at the most perfectly timed moment in my day. My 'moments' come and go... but when they come, they're so hard to move past. At those exact times when I feel myself drowning and find every breath harder to take, my phone beeps, the mail comes, or my inbox flashes that tiny red '1'.

I read through my texts and cards and messages and comments every single day.... and I remember each moment of sadness or fear or pain that I was in at the very moment that I first read each one.... and It's those moments when I know that His arms are around me... holding me together. Right now, I live for the memories of every time God has quietly whispered His presence in my pain.

I can't thank you enough. Every one of you.

I'm afraid for those to end. I haven't found my new 'normal' yet. Nothing is 'normal'. My day doesn't start or end like it should, my clothes don't fit like they should, food doesn't taste the same, I can't 'read' my body like I used to, my kids look different to me, my husband feels and sounds different....

and then I realize; it's because something is missing.

Someone is missing.

My #3.

Maybe our #3 was our 'normal' for only a short time.... but that 'normal' was overwhelming.... and real. And that 'short time' felt like eternity. I can't remember a single moment of my daily life before the day I learned about our #3... not a single second of what my  'normal' used to be.

Our #3 is gone.... and so is our 'normal'.

I haven't found my new one yet.

And 'normal' has become my least favorite word.

Almost 2 weeks ago was 'that' ultra-sound. I had had a pit in my stomach since the night before and moments before I layed down on the table, I knew. I know God had prepared my heart....

I knew that the precious heartbeat we had seen twice before would be gone.

I knew that the teenie-tiny body and sweet head we had seen twice before would be gone.

I loved our ultra-sound tech so much and she had been with us since our very first peek at our #3.... and I said it so our amazing tech didn't have to...

"There's no baby."

Joey and I were given a lot of time to grieve together before we met with my doctor and when he came in, as compassionate and as sensitive as he tried to be, I could tell it wasn't his first rodeo...

I remember feeling so bad for him. What a shitty job.

(Sorry.)

He started going through our 'options'...

I already knew them.

I can't go in to the 2 weeks preceding this appointment right now but 'limbo' wasn't somewhere I could live in anymore.

As he explained a D&E (sorry to use Wikipedia... best I could do), the word 'abortion' came up quite a few times...

"Much like an abortion....", "Just like with an abortion...", "Abortions happen every day..."

And every time he mentioned an abortion, he said that everything would soon be back to 'normal.'

Excuse me for a second...

Are you F***ING serious?!

(Sorry.)

Our baby just died. In my body. I didn't choose this. We didn't want this. This happened TO us.

And you're going to compare this to an abortion?!

In the middle of our shock and grief, we did our best to keep it together while we made plans for the next day... for my 'procedure'.

Outside of my grief, I would have punched him in the nuts.

(Sorry.)

"Procedure".

My second least favorite word.

THAT, a D&C... what I had... is surgery.

Everything after a D&C?

ANYTHING BUT 'NORMAL'.

The bleeding that follows a D&C.... a normal period? No. I'm bleeding because my baby was just scraped out of my body.

The cramps that follow a D&C.... normal? No. My cervix was opened with various size rods until it was big enough so that my precious baby could fit through it.

The positive pregnancy tests that follow a D&C... Normal? No. Our baby was removed from my body before it was supposed to be.... my body took a while to get the memo. Hence... still sore boobs, morning nausea, tiny baby belly, smells that make you puke. Now? No baby.

The dozens of 'Your Pregnancy Today' and "Your baby is as big as a (insert fruit.... that I never want to eat again in my life)" emails you STILL get even though you unsubscribed from every single one of them days ago.... normal? Probably. Heartbreaking? Completely.

I love my doctor. I hate that he compared my D&C to an abortion and I hate that 'normal' is how he described life after.

My body will never be 'normal' again... because of what it was supposed to do, and couldn't.

My periods will never be 'normal' again... because of that ONE that was SUPPOSED to be 'normal', and wasn't.

Our family will never be 'normal' again... because of the one of us that should be here, and isn't.


While we're on our way to finding our new 'normal', part of me is terrified of any kind of 'normal' that doesn't include our #3....

I don't want 'normal' without my #3.

I've been stuck here for a few days.... not wanting to move on for fear that the emails and mail and texts and comments and messages will stop.... because I'm afraid that our #3 will be forgotten.... because where do we go from here?!

When I think back on the past 7 years, as much 'unknown' as we have experienced in our journey to grow our family, we have never been in a place where, even amidst tragedy and heartbreak, we didn't still have a plan. We always had the next cycle or the next procedure.... or we had a valid home study and an active family profile with an agency....

until now.

For the first time in 7 years, we don't have a plan.

And this Type A girl?? Doesn't 'do' without a plan.

And that's where I find my new 'normal'.

Last night, on my way home from my post-op doctor's appointment (where I acquired a few antibiotics to treat the uterine infection that wasn't part of the 'normal' that my doctor said comes after a D&C), I was quietly asking God to help us figure out what's next...

And I felt God tell me that this... this lack of a plan... this lack of 'normal'... is His plan, exactly.

And then today... in the middle of my fear that #3 is already being forgotten, that life is assumedly back to 'normal'... I opened a card from one of my sweetest friends...

And God's quiet whisper reminded me that our #3 is very much a part of our 'normal'... and a daily part of His, too. If our #3 can't be here with us, and oh my gosh what I'd give for even another minute.... there's no place else I'd rather him/her be than in Jesus's 'normal'.


We love you, sweet baby... we ache for you every day. We're finding our rest with you in Jesus' arms until the day we can see you again!



Such Bitter-Sweetness... An Announcement

We have anticipated this post for a few weeks now with so much excitement ...

but we envisioned it looking so so much different than it will tonight.

Our God has built our family through His grace, faithfulness, and many miracles.

Our precious baby girl... our 2008 overnight miracle...

Our son... our 2012 living miracle....

And 2 months ago, after 7 years of infertility and after 4 years of completely abandoning our will to His... no temping, no charting, without even considering the possibilities that doctor's could be wrong, that He could grant that one, sometimes seemingly forbidden desire of our hearts....

 our Jesus graciously (and shockingly!!) gave us another miracle...

 And then there were 5.....



We have spent the past few weeks completely and humbly grateful and amazed at what He has done! Our Jesus... the one who gave us our miracles... who has given us so many more miracles than we could have ever asked for or could ever deserve....

the one who heard our painfully loud cries 7 years ago... and gave us our daughter.

the one who heard our terrifying screams of anguish 18 months ago.... and saved our son.

the one who heard the whispers of our hearts as one tiny part still desired so badly to experience a pregnancy.... let us do just that.

For a time....

We have spent the past few weeks standing in awe at what he has done for us!

My body told me right away that I was pregnant... I stand amazed that after years and years of 'just in case' pregnancy tests and 'maybe this means I'm pregnant' symptom analyses, I was still able to recognize the 'real deal.' I am so gratedul for every ache and for every moment of nausea and for every change my body went through to make room for the precious baby growing inside of me.... I'm thankful for the two times we were able to see and hear that precious heartbeat on ultra-sound.... for the tiny baby belly that was beginning to pop (especially after a couple donuts ;-))....

but  my body also didn't handle pregnancy well.

The past 10 days have been a waiting game of the cruelest kind.... physically, emotionally, and spiritually....

But yesterday came closure when Jesus' everlasting arms took the place of our's for our sweet Baby Smith #3.

Our baby went home... too early, and not with us.

And we are broken.

Completely broken.

We chose, long ago, to share this part of our lives with whomever wants to read it... for whomever wants to join us on our family's journey to well.... just that.

Our family.

We have never regretted one second of the choice to make this part of us 'public' and we have been blessed tenfold because of it.

We have so many blanks to fill in...  my very first pregnancy test .... telling Big Sister...  introducing you to Baby Smith #3 in pictures... our cherished announcement photo shoot... and the overwhelming outpouring of love that we have and know we will continue to receive as we navigate through the next couple of days, weeks, and months . And we will. I need to if I'm going to get through this. I've missed the calm and refuge I find when I write....

We've had so many 'secrets' to keep in the past.... our adoptions were both unique, making it difficult for us to ask for support and prayer when we needed it most as each of our babies came home until it was a safe and appropriate time to share our exciting news with the world....

And I can't do 'secrets' this time.

We are heartbroken... and confused...

But we also know that, for however long Jesus let us keep our precious Baby Smith #3, that every second of that time is a miracle... and always will be.

I got pregnant. Me. The one who couldn't. I did. And without a single thought in our mind about ever getting pregnant... ever!

That's a miracle!

The past 2 months have been filled with celebration and we are looking back without one single regret.

We are trying so desperately to take refuge in Him knowing that, for the first time in every up and down we have faced over the past 7 years....

We won't be waiting for our baby anymore.... because he/she is waiting for us in Heaven.

And I take complete comfort in that simple fact alone.

Our baby is in the arms of Jesus... waiting for us... waiting for mine.

I know that so many of you understand this pain... and I'm not sure I'm even 'there' yet.

If our journey has taught us anything, it's that God will take away..... he'll take things amazing and miraculous for reasons we might not ever understand....

but He always replaces them with something even bigger.

Hannah and Hunter are proof of God's 'bigger'.

I had surgery today and we would love if you would lift us up in prayer as our hearts slowly heal, as my body heals, and as we navigate through all of this while helping our sweet girl understand it all, too. We're thankful that Hunter is so young and unaware. If you know our girl, you know she'll do better than any of us.... her faith is rock solid and I'm thankful for the example of child-like faith she has been for me just the past couple days alone.

I don't know when our #4 will come along or how.... but we are doing our very best to remember and love #3 with everything that we have left in us right now...

Tonight? We're so so sad. Confused. Conflicted. Anxious. And so many parts of us are in pain. We aren't going to be quick to forget our precious and always #3 but one day soon we know that our cup will overflow, once again.

We love you, sweet #3... Mama and Daddy are wrapped as tightly in Jesus' arms tonight as you are and there's nowhere else we'd rather be than with you tonight.

"For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of... life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead."
~2 Corinthians 1:8-9