A Hunter Update.... "Your Son May Never Walk..."

(If you're new to Hunter's story and the miracles of his life, please start here and then head over here)

10 weeks premature.

Hydrops.

Resuscitation at birth.

A fatal heart condition.

Cerebral Palsy.

If the heart condition didn't kill him, a rare metabolic disorder that would.

If you know Hunter's story, you know that this list has changed significantly over the past 18 months... Hunter's heart condition is gone and he doesn't have CP or a metabolic disorder. Hunter's miracles.

I know I've said it before but... we were ok with that list.

Yes. It's a scary list. Yes. In a way, we signed up for it. Yes. We were terrified.

But our fear... it wasn't for us. It was for Hunter.

The lessons we've learned over the past 18 months... the numerous ways we've been stretched and challenged and tested... are life-changing.

The miracles God has preformed in the past 18 months... the one's He continues to shower down on our son... are life-giving.

I have never known someone as hard-working, as determined, and as hard-headed as Hunter. His work ethic would be considered unheard-of for a middle-aged, successful adult. His determination and his fighter instinct are why he is alive.

You see... when your life begins as Hunter's did, nothing comes 'natural'. That word just doesn't seem to exist in his world.

Eating never came naturally. Sucking on a pacifier never came naturally. Rolling over and sitting up never came naturally. Crawling? Pulling up? Squatting? Going from crawl to sit or sit to crawl or crawl to pull up or pull up back to sit or ...

everything he 'shouldn't' have ever been able to do....

they didn't come 'naturally' to him.

We have seen him work for every single thing that he does; from breathing.... to sucking on a pacifier.... to breathing and sleeping at the same time... to using a bottle... to breathing and sucking from a bottle at the same time... to holding a bottle... rolling over... sitting up... crawling... using a spoon... chewing... pulling up...

The effort it takes, the amount of time his amazing therapists spend with him, the painful crying when his body fights his will to learn and do better...

When he succeeds?

I've never seen such joy... so much unashamed and well-deserved pride... on someone's face.

The thing about Hunter?

He always succeeds.

Every. Single. Time.

He has help, yes... from us, our family, his therapists... but his will, his hard-work and determination are what get him there....

where no one ever thought he would go.

And, friends... he's going places....



Just 18 months ago, only moments after meeting our son for the first time... completely overwhelmed and intimidated by the 3 pound precious baby boy in front of us... was the first time that we heard, "Your son may never walk or play sports and his activity may have to be limited, which will be hard for a little boy. If he does ever walk, it will be a struggle."



 I've learned that miracles can't be defined by something super-natural.... sometimes we have to physically fight for them. And maybe it's not the end result that is the miracle, itself... maybe the miracle is the determination we have to fight, that can only come from something super-natural; from our Heavenly Father.

I don't have the strength and determination that my son has. I can't help but think that I would have given up a long time ago if I ever had to go through even half of what he has. Hunter fights for the 'natural' part of his life every day. The biggest lesson he has taught me? He's taught me that miracles never come out of our fear.... but often, they do come from our willingness to fight.

I spent time just watching Hunter walk today and was completely humbled by the miracle I saw in front of me.... he is a walking miracle ;-)



Considering Abortion.... A Letter

Hi Sweet Girl~

I don't need to know your name or look into your eyes... and I don't need to have been where you find yourself tonight to know that you're terrified and in pain. If you find yourself in the greeting of this letter, then all I know about you is that you're pregnant and you have a choice to make... and I know what your choices are.

This isn't a letter that will talk politics or preach Bible verses or tell you you're killing your baby or beg you to choose adoption or tell you you're an awful person for even considering something like abortion.  All of that is about the baby you're carrying...

This is about you.

It's not a letter for comments and likes... it's about you.

My name is Lindsay. My husband and I have always wanted kids and we spent the first year of our marriage trying to build our family the 'normal' way... we had sex. After a year of having sex, just the two of us, we called in back-up. After a year of having sex under the careful instruction of a fertility specialist, as a three-some, we went back to having sex... just the two of us. We also filled out our first adoption application... 11 weeks later, we brought home our precious baby girl through an open adoption. My cycles grew more and more painful over the next year and we discovered that I had mild endometriosis.... maybe the reason we never conceived, probably not. Our specialist suggested trying again to get pregnant because a pregnancy will wipe out endo. So we did... and we quickly became a two-some again. 2 years later we brought home our precious baby-boy through an open adoption.
17 months later we got pregnant. Just like that... and probably like you did; we had sex... and got pregnant.

10 weeks later, I miscarried.

And that was 5 weeks ago.

 I have no business talking to YOU about the decision you're facing tonight. I've never faced an unwanted pregnancy. I'll never have to choose between parenting or abortion or placing my baby for adoption.

 But...I was pregnant once and I figure that's all it takes for you and me to have something in common.

Whether or not I agree with abortion doesn't matter....

I lost my baby. Choose abortion? You will, too.

So here we are.... standing on different sides of the same 'procedure'. And that's where you come in...

My husband and I had just come from the ultra-sound that showed that our baby's heart had stopped beating. We were broken.... devastated.

The doctor walked in to discuss our 'options' with us. We liked him. We could tell that this was the worst part of his job... but it was also a very 'normal' part of his job.

"I can give you a pill to take. The pill will cause your body to finish what has already started and will force miscarriage. Or you can go home and let your body figure it out on its own. It might take a few days but it could take a few weeks. You'll feel strong cramps that are actually contractions. Some women feel more comfortable letting their bodies miscarry naturally.

I had already been bleeding and cramping for almost 2 weeks... our baby had held on until the very last couple of days and waiting for the inevitable was torture. The physical pain was getting unbearable, as well. I knew my body wasn't going to handle 'natural' very well... emotionally or physically.

 "We can also do a D&C.... Dilation & Curttelage. It's the same procedure as an abortion.... except we'll give you medicine so you don't know what's happening during the procedure. Women do it every day without medicine when they have an abortion. We'll dilate your cervix by inserting various size rods. I'll use a scalpel to scrape out the content of the uterus.... (to scrape out our baby). If I need to, I'll use a vacuum to suction out larger pieces of tissue..... (which would be my baby's body and placenta). When the procedure is done, you'll have a normal period for about a week. You'll feel very normal the next day and this will all be over with. You can consider trying to get pregnant again after 2 menstrual cycles, if you want to."

Here's where I find my place in writing to you~ my doctor compared my 'procedure' to an abortion... and I'm taking that as permission to do the same.

I had my D&C the next day....

and it was nothing like he explained.

Waiting in pre-op before surgery wasn't 'normal'. No one treated me like I was 'normal'. I didn't feel judged... I felt pitied. I didn't make the choice to lose my baby.... but I still couldn't look one person in the eye. I couldn't stand to see their questions. The anesthesiologist asked me if I was ok..... "no", I said. He finished his paperwork and left.

I glanced over at my chart... looking for some written sign to every eye who read it that I had miscarried.... that this wasn't an abortion.

D&C.

That's it.

So I imagine if it's you sitting in that post-op room, our charts would be identical.

They didn't know my story. They won't know your's. Maybe that will make it easier for you.... but I doubt it.

The medicine worked right away... I remember kissing my husband.... we were both crying. I fell asleep with tears running down my face.

I woke up to a nurse trying to help me put in a sanitary pad for the bleeding. I guess doctors don't do that after they take your baby out. I remember how terrified I was to pee afterwards but they wouldn't let me go home until I had.

The rest of the day was a blur.... I ate, I slept, and woke up the next morning anything but 'normal'.

I expected to bleed and I did.... but it wasn't a 'normal' period, like my doctor had said it would be.... my baby had just been scraped out of my body.

THAT'S why I was bleeding.

My stomach was crampy.... but not because of my 'normal' period.... my cervix had been stretched open with a rod so my baby could be vacuumed out.

My boobs still hurt.... I still felt nauseous.... smells bothered me for days.... I was exhausted.... pregnancy tests still detected my baby but really, they only detected parts of him/her.

The other parts? My body spent weeks trying to clean out the rest of it... of him or her. 3 weeks, to be exact. I called my doctor to ask if that much bleeding, if all of the clots and clumps were 'normal'.... "We try our best to get everything out during the 'procedure' but it's inevitable that we'll miss tissue... it may take a while for your body to get rid of what we missed." Something I wish he had included in his explanation of 'normal'.

I want to share this with you because even though I didn't make this choice, I wish so badly that someone had been able to prepare me for what would follow a 'procedure' that was so simply explained in words.  My baby was already gone... but the pain I have felt every day for the past few weeks as I've faced one of the worst experiences of my life is indescribable.

I don't wish that.... this... on anyone, whether they choose it or not.

You? You have this choice. I don't know what you'll choose in the end... it's not up to me and it's not my business. But I want so badly for you to know..... and I want you to know before.

This isn't about your baby's life. It's not about the politics behind abortion or what the Bible has to say about it.

It's about you.

Nothing about the decision you're considering is 'normal'. That's why the process you're in right now is painful and terrifying. It's not 'normal'.

After a D&C? After an abortion? Your baby is gone. Officially. Whether you wanted this or not.. the reality is sickening. There aren't any choices left to be made... there aren't any more appointments to make or people to call or research to be done or pills to take....

Your baby is gone.

And you have changed.

That part? About you changing? You don't know that you're choosing that, too.

Maybe your baby's heart had already stopped beating.... or maybe it stopped beating during your 'procedure'.... it doesn't matter because the pain is the same.

And that 'normal' that will come when it's all said and done?

It doesn't come.

Sure, you'll find a new 'normal'.....

but when you get your period, you'll think about that one that should have been 'normal'.... and why it wasn't.

when your cramps tell you that your period is about to start.... you'll remember the cramps that should have been 'normal'.... and why they weren't.

when you have sex, you'll have a moment of sheer panic when you remember.... and then a tiny part of you will wish for the moments 'before' all over again.

And all of a sudden, your new 'normal' consists of choices that have become memories.... and no matter how hard you try, memories don't change.

The emotions that follow something like a D&C... no matter how or why that D&C happened.... don't go away.

It's true... I haven't been in your shoes. And I'm thankful for that.

But I've been quite a few things....

I've been the girl who only ever wanted to be a Mommy. I've been the who wanted so badly to experience a pregnancy. I've been the girl who lost babies in the adoption process. I've been the girl who got pregnant after 7 years of infertility. I've been the girl who had a miscarriage. I've been the girl who lost a baby. I've been the girl who had a D&C.

I AM the girl who is trying desperately to recover... and I'm the girl who is absolutely terrified for every woman who will ever face being who I am right now... who I have been for the past few months... who I will be if and when my new 'normal' ever comes.

Choose to parent. Choose abortion. Or choose to place your baby for adoption.

It's true that the after-effects of all three will last forever.... when your newborn hasn't slept in days... when toddler is laying in the middle of Walgreens throwing a fit because he wants a pencil. Or when your best friend gets pregnant and you somehow know in a split second exactly how far apart your babies would have been... when your period reminds you every month of the one that should have been 'normal'. Or when every picture, letter, and visit with your precious child makes it possible for your heart to break and heal all at the same time....

 Only one of those choices makes a face disappear forever. That part is about your baby.

Only one of those choices results in a pain and memories so deep and so gut-wrenching that it has the potential to ruin you. That part is about you.

 I've also been the one who was blessed enough to become a Mommy.... by 2 women who chose to push through the pain and fear. Even though the choice they made was painful, it at least carried with it the chance for a lifetime of healing... and of knowing the precious face that they chose to carry.

I didn't choose to lose my baby... but I wish I could change it every second of the day.

I don't know how our family will grow from here.... if we'll adopt again or if I'll get pregnant again. While both of those are exciting things to think about.... neither one will bring that baby back and neither one will ever take away the pain of the process of losing him/her.

Now? I'm the girl who wishes I could do something to make sure that no woman ever has to experience this pain... from a miscarriage? I can't change that. From an abortion? Maybe I can.

I have friends who have had abortions.... I don't know anyone who has had two. I no longer wonder why.

I have friends who support abortion... who have also had miscarriages and D&C's. The pain I hear in their voice every time their precious baby and that horrible 'prodecure' are brought up is excruciating. It makes me wonder how, even if they see abortion as simply a choice and not a decision between life and death... how they would support anything that could cause that kind of pain for another woman. How can they think it isn't the same?!

I can't promise what your future will look like.... but abortion? It will change you.... physically and emotionally. That I can promise you.

I don't envy the decision you face.... and I'm praying that you feel supported. I wanted you to just know.... maybe not from someone who has been right where you are right now... but from someone who has been on the other side where you could be soon.

I wish I could hug you and tell you that, no matter what, it will be ok.... but that's not comforting for me to hear right now and I won't put that on you, either.

 Even if I don't know you, I'm sorry you're in pain.... and I'm praying with everything in me that your pain stops here.  It's comforting to know that you can make that choice. This place... where I am... choose not to be here. For you. The choices that come later can be for your baby. This choice? This one can be for you.

~ Lindsay



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!



Tomorrow

I've been dreading tomorrow for 5 days.

Real life starts tomorrow.

Our new real life.

We have spent the past 5 days just 'us'. We've slept in and eaten out. We haven't spent one second as anything but 'us'. Joey's arms have been a few feet away from me every minute of the day... his shoulder only inches from me every morning and every night. He's been my rock. When waves of sadness hit, we're both there and one of us can be strong.

Or not.... and that's ok, too.

We've read and wept over every comment, email, text, and phone call, every flower. We've soaked in each word of encouragement and have welcomed every thought and prayer. We stand amazed at the army of people who have surrounded us every second of one of the worst things we have ever been through. We know we wouldn't make it through this without them... without you.

We've hugged our H2. We've loved them and have spent time memorizing each quirk and appreciating every moment we have been given with them.

We've missed our #3.

Terribly.

This pain? We aren't built for this kind of pain. It's cruel.

Blessings always come out of despair.... that's true.

But right now? This feels like anything but a blessing.

A curse? Yeah, maybe. Today.

But tomorrow?

 I don't want to wake up alone, knowing that Joey's new reality has already started. I don't want to roll over and not see the box of saltines that I needed in order to get out of bed every day for 8 weeks. I don't want to make breakfast and get the kids dressed. I don't want to walk into a doctor's office and have to pretend that everything is ok... our weekend was wonderful... the weather is beautiful... we're so happy it's a 4-day week. I don't want to fear with everything in me that our #3 will be forgotten when life starts again.

I've had only 5 days of practice and I can't 'do' this new life by myself yet... without Joey a few feet from me... outside of the bubble that has just been 'us'...

without my #3.

The pain doesn't come and go... it's always there. It builds over time ... a couple hours, over night, or sometimes a day... and when you finally break, there isn't a reason. There's no distraction big enough and no time small enough. Your heart can only handle so much pretending. And that's exactly what it is....

pretending.

Pretending that you're ok.... or even that you're gonna be.

Pretending that greater blessings will come out of this pain... because you'd trade every single blessing in the world for the one you lost.

Pretending that God will use this for His glory... because truthfully, His glory isn't shining through the despair right now.

Pretending that you trust that His plan is better than your own... because this wasn't your plan to begin with and that makes it feel like a cruel joke.

Pretending that time heals all wounds... because nothing... I mean nothing, can heal this kind of loss.... this kind of wound.

Moments come when I have to force myself out of well, myself. I have to spend a moment outside of my pain and confusion and disappointment. I have to fight everything in me that wants to resent my Jesus and scream at Him for making the one thing I have ever wanted, being a Mommy, such a painful process each time.

I have to step away and trust all that I know....

I will be ok.

Blessings will come out of this pain.

God will use this for His glory.

His plan is better than my own.

And time, though it won't take the pain away, will make it easier to bear.

The verses, His promises, the truth we've witnessed that comes from His promises...

Those things I know in my heart.

But tomorrow?

I'll be pretending them through my day.



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

Hand Chosen

This was my mom's license plate throughout my childhood.....

 

 

California had just made 5 shapes available that you could incorporate into a personalized license plate. I remember so many family conversations as we all tried to agree on what our new license plate would say and we knew it had to be meaningful... a conversation starter!

 

Hand Chosen

 

My parents had a few reasons for choosing Hand Chosen...

 

* The 'hand chose' the car (boring, but true!)

* Each finger on the hand represented each of us

* Our family existed because God 'hand chose' my brothers to complete that hand

* Eric and Brayden's birth moms 'hand chose' us to be their family

* God 'hand chose' every one of us to be HIS children

 

It's just a license plate. Yes. The meaning behind it.... and the process my family went through to create it.... has stuck with me for 23 years.

 

On Monday, I had the opportunity to share our family's story with some friends.

 

Each time I tell our story, I come out of it feeling extremely overwhelmed.... and intensely humbled.

 

I relive every emotion.... the fear, nerves, defeat, heart break that came through the adoption process..

 

 awe, disbelief, amazement and thankfulness when our babies were finally home.

 

I love those moments. I live for them.

 

Each time I tell our story, a different part of it follows me through the next few days... God highlights a different piece each time and gives me an opportunity to bathe in it, to feel it all over again, and to truly thank Him and give Him glory in the story that He has written.

 

Monday~

 

I got stuck here. Specifically....

 

"We had just said "no"... again. I was desperate for direction... for something."

 

and...

 

"The agency hadn't put any effort into matching Baby boy with a family... how can you when his chances of survival are so small?! D said she had spent hours the night before pouring over the agency's family profiles... she needed to find a family who was 'open' to heart problems, prematurity, low birth-weight, a condition as complex as Hydrops, and the list was growing and would just continue to grow. She also needed to find a stay-at-home mom... it was stressed that Baby boy would need continuous medical care and constant stimulation to ensure as much of a future as possible for him.

 

She had no families that fit the bill.
 
None.
 

I interrupted her...

 

"D... what if...."

 

Her turn to interrupt...

 

" I think he might be your son."

 

 

This conversation took place in a hotel room. In Florida. We had spent 3.5 hours the day before getting to know the sweetest woman who was due to have a baby boy in June. She had chosen us. Everything about this woman, her baby boy, the relationship we had started, and the future we saw with her fit our bill. It seemed like a perfect match.

 

Healthy pregnancy. Healthy mom. Healthy baby. Open adoption. The foundation to a great relationship.

 

But something didn't feel right. We didn't know what.... we had ZERO reasons for why we said 'no'. ZERO. ZILCH. NADA. NONE. But our hearts were just saying 'no'.

 

And then the phone call....

 

"In late March, a baby was born... he was delivered by emergency C-Section because the doctors were having trouble keeping his heart-beat stable and rhythmic. As a result of the efforts they made to control his heart-beat in utero, he developed Fetal Hydrops (his body began to swell with fluid and that fluid was pressing on his organs).  He was delivered at 30 weeks gestation... delivery was more of a precaution for his mom because of how his conditions were affecting her. Baby boy wasn't expected to live through delivery."

 

Very very sick baby. No previous relationship with his birth mom. Thousands of questions and ZERO promises for our future with that baby. ZERO. ZILCH, NADA. NONE.

 

But, even with a perfectly healthy baby boy at arms reach.... we said 'yes'.

 

At this point in our story, most of the time someone will say something like, "You guys were so brave!" "Most people would run the other direction." "I could never have done that."

 

But we weren't brave.... we wanted to run... we were TOLD to run by many people.... and, if you had asked us only 12 hours before, we probably wouldn't have done it either.

 

Here's where I've been since Monday...

 

 

 

We didn't fall in love with Hunter when we heard about him over the phone. We cried for hours as we poured over his already-intense medical history documents. We felt physically ill with fear when we Googled so many of his conditions and the possibilities for his future. We wondered if the people who cautioned us... who were concerned for us AND for Hannah.... who told us we were making the wrong decision to go meet him.... were right. 

 

But still....we did. We went through the motions... we pursued yet another opportunity God had given us. Our hearts fought tooth and nail the whole way.

 

But God pushed us.

 

And then we met him.

 

And we said, "yes"....

 

To all of it.

 

I don't know why we said yes! Looking back, I SEE why friends and family were concerned for us. I totally GET where their cautions were justified.

 

And I am so thankful that God blinded our minds and deafened our ears so His plan could prevail in our hearts.

 

A conversation I have with God quite regularly...

 

"God, we were okay with the possibilities. We were ready for each prognosis and every trial he faced. We had fully embraced every medical concern and every possible outcome... from a forever-long feeding tube to Cerebral Palsy to major heart surgeries (many of them!) to accepting that our child might have a very very short life. If that was your plan, then we were ok!

 

But, God... here we are. Our son's appetite matches his activeness! His muscles are strong! His heart... our son's heart, is healthy! And he will grow old one day!

 

So why?

 

Why were we so comfortable and ready for all of the above... why did you prepare our hearts in that way....but you chose this for us, instead?"

 

I've never been one to ask God "why?". Ever.

 

And obviously this 'why' comes with an unbelievably grateful heart for everything He has done in our son's life.

 

And that's part of the answer....

 

Hunter's life. IS WHY.

 

He spared Hunter from every obstacle that we were 'ready for'.

 

At times I feel that He spared US... but He didn't. Every single caution and possibility could have come to fruition.... and WE'D be ok!

 

Hunter?

 

God has given him a life that will be full and fast and long and joyful.

Part of the answer lies in the changes that have taken place in OUR lives... we've learned patience and what it means to fully and truly rely on God... regardless of our human thoughts or feelings. Hunter's story has brought out the passion Hannah has for special kids like Hunter... he is her heart.

 

Most of the answers, tho reach far beyond US and HUNTER....

 

The miracle that is Hunter's life couldnt' be a miracle without the journey he went through... without every 'maybe' and 'possibly' and 'could be'. Hunter's story has already impacted thousands upon thousands of lives. He has brought people closer to Jesus. He has brought US closer to Jesus.

 

But when I think about my "why's", I know they come from a place in me that feels undeserving of the life we HAVE versus the life we were 'ready for'.

 

"Even before he made the world, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in his eyes."

~ Ephesians 1:4

And the simplicity has stopped me in my tracks.
 

It was already done.

 

He chose us.

 

And there's my answer...

 

He chose Hunter for us. He chose Hannah for us. I don't think our family is done growing yet.... if there is more for us, He's chosen that, too. He chose us for them.
 

And he chose us for HIM.

 

Hand Chosen.

 

God's perfect love.... strong enough to push through every 'maybe' and every 'could be' and every 'probably'.

 

I will devote every day of my life to remembering that one simple phrase.

 

And I will do everything I can to instill that one simple phrase in my children's hearts....

 

so when their heads get in the way of their hearts...

 

They will always know....

 

They are hand chosen.

I'm Still Infertile....

I've recently made a depressing observation...

Of all the friends I have who don't yet have kids and are currently trying to get pregnant, a huge majority of them are experiencing infetility.

'There's something in the water" has taken on a whole new meaning.

 :-/

Joey and I were the pioneers in our group of friends when we were first trying to get pregnant 5.5 years ago. We were lone wolves. Maybe this is why I felt the need to be so secretive in the early months of our struggle to conceive.... My mom was the only woman in my life who 'got it'.



Was.

I was talking to a friend the other day about the world of infertility.... it's a world she has just recently been introduced to and if you've been there, you remember the thoughts, feelings, and frustration like it was yesterday; weekly and bi-weekly ultra-sounds, not even knowing when the last time you had a PAP was because really, what's the difference? Don't you have one once a week?! The blood work, the pills, timing sex, the blood work, trying to find your 'ideal weight', trying to keep your 'ideal weight', the blood work, the mood swings, the hot flashes, the blood work...

Yeah... you remember.

I feel that over the past few years I have become a 'Credible Source' in the world of infertility. I'm not a pro but do feel like I could pass any exam at any time to become a fully licensed Reproductive Endocrinologist with all that I DO know. But I DO know. I know the process and thoughts and feelings and frustration and pain when a friend gets pregnant and the depression that hits you like a ton of rocks when you leave her baby shower and how, on a daily basis, you reinact the scene on the elevator in Baby Mama... it's all you can do to NOT smell the heads of every baby you walk by! It all makes you CRAZY.



So yes, friends.... I am a Credible Source... of crazy.

So I know how important it is to know when to talk and when to listen... and in the world of inferitlity, it's always better to listen way more than you talk. But when I DO talk, I feel like my words are credible....

Because while those thoughts and feelings and frustrations are now my memories, and while I now have the baby I thought and felt so much for, one thing hasn't changed and it's the one thing that makes me a Credible Source....

I'm. Still. Infertile.

"Hi. My name is Lindsay and I'm infertile."

I know I know... it sounds harsh. But here's my reality;

I look in the face of my baby every single day and THANK GOD that I didn't get pregnant. I wouldn't change my life for anything in the world.... anything!

But while I look at my baby every day and thank God that I didn't get pregnant, I am also painfully aware every single day that my body doesn't work the way it 'should'. I remember every single day the struggle we went through to grow our family and I remember why we went through it.... because I'm infertile (I really hate that word but what else is it called?!?). I still feel the gentle pang in the part of my heart that would love to experience pregnancy.... not because a pregnancy woud give me a child any different or more special than the one I have, but because women's bodies were created to bear children. It's in the Bible, for goodness sakes and MY body just can't figure it out! I want to know what a baby feels like when he/she moves in my belly and as weird as it sounds, I want to feel contractions and labor and that moment when you witness your child's first breath (granted, some adoptive parents DO get to witness this!).



Back to my recent conversation with a newly 'infertile' friend;



While the conversation started comfortable; she shared with me, I shared with her, she had some questions, I answered them, we cried together...



At some point in the conversation, around where my toddler interrupted us, it felt like we experienced a shift.... one where she realized that I now HAVE the child I went through all of that to get and all of a sudden, I was no longer a Credible Source in our conversation. She changed. All of a sudden, I was on the other side of the 'infertility line'.... we weren't on the same team in the presence of my baby; a baby much like the one she is hurting for.



I didn't experience that when I was in the throws of infertility... I had friends who adopted their children and they were always a Credible Source to me when it came to conversations about infertility....



Because even though they have their baby.... they're still infertile.



So, to be honest, I got a little ticked.



Do you remember this post? A Baby Won't Fix Everything.....




When a journey through infertility brings a baby into your arms through adoption, your world changes; almost every aspect of your world changes.... for the GOOD! And, in many ways, that baby DOES 'fix' many things....



But a baby doesn't fix infertility.



I AM a Credible Source.




"Hi. My name is Lindsay and i'm infertile. Still."

Our Fighter

I remember so many nights .... I would leave the NICU to head back to the Ronald McDonald House.... and I would barely make it through the NICU doors before I broke.

The NICU changes a person forever. A parent with a child in the NICU experiences emotions that you can't describe in words.... feelings you never want to feel again as long as you live.

I would walk silently to my car, praying the whole time....

"God............... Please............."

And I just knew that He knew.... He knew the words I couldn't think or speak or feel.

And every time I got in my car to head back to my home away from home, leaving my baby behind to continue fighting for his life, one song always greeted me...

Many of you have asked for an update on our sweet boy since he got his hearing aids. I've drafted a few updates but nothing comes quite close enough to the video my brother took a few weeks ago.... matched with the song that became my anthem during the most difficult time of our lives, here is our son....

our fighter.....

Give 'em hell, turn their heads
Gonna live life 'til we're dead
Give me scars, give me pain
Then they'll say to me, say to me, say to me

There goes a fighter, there goes a fighter
Here comes a fighter
That's what they'll say to me, say to me, say to me
This one's a fighter....

(My brother has been gifted with an amazing talent and has video-taped some of the strongest, most precious kids I've ever seen.... head over here to see a few more of his incredible videos!)

Skinny Girls Have Fat Days, Too.

This post is not going to be PC. Sorry.... not sorry.

I'm a skinny girl. Always have been.

I have chicken legs. In fact, my legs and ankles were so skinny when I was in Kindergarten and 1st grade that my Daddy made me wear high tops every single day, no matter what I wore, so I wouldn't break an ankle.

Do you remember those?! :-)

I'm not quite sure where his theory came from but... I never broke an ankle!

I had teachers who wondered out loud if I had an eating disorder or if I was eating enough.

I was. Ask anyone in my family. I ate. A lot.

So... I was 'that' girl.

The one who could eat anything and everything she wanted and never gained a pound.

The one who could wear anything.

THAT girl.

Women write about losing weight and being over-weight every day... and they aren't too crazy about 'that' girl. Like me. But what about those girls? We have a side, too....

And I'm pretty sure MY side might come as a surprise.

I have always been aware of my innate, genetic 'thinness' but as I get older.... as life continues to happen... I've learned a few things about the progression of women's body types and I've found myself painfully aware of it over the past 5 years...

When I was younger, maybe elementary through middle school, my skinniness was a concern to others'.... I wasn't developing properly or getting the right nutrients or I wasn't eating enough.

Throughout high school and college, it became something to be proud of.... I could eat whatever I wanted, I never gained weight, and exercising made me sweat.... and if you know me, you know I hate to sweat ;-)

I was proud of being a skinny bride, even though I hadn't hit the gym for the 6 months before our wedding.

Regardless, being married to Joey ;-) I quickly found that exercise made everything about me more 'enjoyable' to be around... I was happier, I made healthy eating choices not because I wanted to lose weight but because I wanted to be healthy, my sweatiness was something my husband kind of enjoyed, and it felt so good to watch my body change as I became more healthy.... skinny does not equal healthy.

Entering my mid 20's is when my thinness started to bother me.

It didn't take long for me to realize that skinny girls in their 20's and 30's no longer have a right to complain about their weight.... 'being skinny' took away my ability to mention feeling bloated, bring up my awful eating habits, mention having eaten too much at dinner, or call a day a 'fat day'.

So... I'd formally like to announce that there are many days when I feel bloated, that when I eat a whole box of animal cookies I  DO notice it the next day, I tend to eat way too much on certain days of the month, and I absolutely have a pair of 'fat-day pants'.

Just like every other woman... fat, thin, chubby, skinny, pregnant, or not.

Skinny girls have fat days, too.

While I have never been 'unhappy' with my weight, my 'child-bearing years' only made me more aware of my weight and more specifically, of the 'world's' perspective of the skinny girl...

Everyone says that a woman's weight can adversely affect their ability to conceive when they have either above 'average' or below 'average' BMI for their age group...
(We'll use 'average' loosely, too... what in the world does that mean?!)

Anyway...

I was well below 'average' and was advised by my first (of many) infertility specialists to gain about 10 pounds.

I hadn't gained TWO pounds in 10 years... so yeah,  I'll just go do that now.

Yeah right.

My final and favorite specialists put no 'weight' whatsoever on a woman's weight unless it was threatening her life, aside from her wanting to get pregnant.

I loved him.

We all know how those 'child-bearing years' went (we'll use 'child-bearing years' loosely, too... they didn't do me any favors ;-))...

eventually, we brought Hannah home :-)

My first few times out with her is when the evolution of my 'skinniness' didn't just stand out to me.... it hit me like a wrecking-ball.

"Please tell me you did NOT just have that baby!"

"You must work out every day to look like that with a newborn!"

"My baby is 6 months old and I've gained weight since he was born... how did you lose weight that fast?!"

"You're babysitting, right?! That can't be your baby."

"I hate you."

True. Every one of them... and so many more.

My precious baby girl had become the one thing in the entire world that I was most proud of. She was beautiful and precious and we had waited so so long for her.... and she was home.

I was a new mom....

to the people who knew me.

To the world? I was an obnoxious skinny girl who couldn't have 'just had that baby'.

MY focus was completely and solely focused on our precious daughter... and the world's focus was on my weight.

And the comments weren't compliments anymore... even if they were meant to be.

I found myself stuck in an awkward grey area that I wasn't sure how to navigate...

I AM a new mom and this IS my baby girl....

and if I had HAD her, the world would look at me like any other post-partum mom and they would focus on her... not me.

I didn't have her.... but where do you go from there?

I remembered how many times I would stand in front of the mirror, pillow under my shirt, dreaming of what I would look like if I got pregnant.

I remembered stuffing my bra, imagining what it would be like to watch my body change so I could nurse my baby and help him or her grow.

I remembered how badly I wanted to shop at maternity stores... I've never even walked in one.

I remembered wanting my body to be different... for the first time in my life.

I wanted 'that' body.... the one that friends and family would analyze so they could try and guess if it was a boy or a girl... the one that strangers would touch in public.... the one my husband would talk to and touch, just waiting for a response from inside of me... the one that symbolized the love between me and my husband.

All of a sudden, our precious baby was finally home and I was finally a mom.... and the world judged my body, of all things.

I tried out a variety of responses to the comments I was receiving... they ranged from a full explanation of our infertility process and adoption process... to a lying 'thank you.'

I get those same comments now... a year after Hunter was born.

Now?

"He was 2 pounds when he was born."

That's all they get.

I let them take what they want out of it... 'she didn't gain all that much weight if he was only 2 pounds", if they're really focused on ME... or "wow... look how far he's come!!!"... and I walk away.

I've been at this now for almost 5 years and I still haven't mastered the perfect response. I don't really think their IS one.

All I know is that now, my skinny body doesn't symbolize s**t.

But my friends.... the one's who have recently had their babies.... the one's who's babies are toddlers... the one's who carried their babies and had to grieve the loss of them...

The one's who want so badly to lose their 'baby weight'...

I admire the effort they make to 'get their body back' and I'm so proud of how hard they work to be healthy for their children...

but it makes me so sad when they show embarrassment or shame at their post-baby bodies.

True, I haven't been there....

But I've wanted to be ... so so badly.

Those precious friends of mine... I'll never truly understand what happens to a woman's body during and after pregnancy... and I'll never understand the feelings that come with comparing your 'pre' body to your 'post'...

But aside from what I'll never understand, one thing stands out to me as I witness so many women who 'struggle' with their post-baby bodies...

Those women have their babies. They walk around Target with their post-baby belly. They sit at the pool with their sun-screen lathered baby. They take so much pride in their baby....

And then I think about my babies' birth-moms... they had a post-baby body, too.

But they don't have their baby. They walked around Target without that newly born baby and I wonder if people still asked them how far along they were. I wonder if people gave them that sweet "you're going to be a mom" smile. I wonder if anyone wondered how old their baby must be or where he or she was.

And then everything changes.... for the skinny-body new mom and the I-just-had-a-baby new mom.

To 'those' women...

Your children are beautiful... because of you. They're healthy and growing because of your body. You've experienced every second of your baby's life.... his or her first precious seconds of existence, first movements, first breath... the changes in your body symbolize those extraordinary moments of your child's life that no one else in the world can share with you.

They're yours.

Please don't be so quick to 'lose' that baby weight... to lose 'your baby's weight'.

Yes, be healthy. Yes, be good to yourself. Yes, get to a place where you love your body.

But, at those moments when you're putting on your first post-partum bathing suit... or getting dressed for your first date-night since baby... or trying to find new clothes to fit the awkward stage your body is in...

or when you're sitting next to the skinny girl at the pool...

Don't be so quick to be discouraged or to compare yourself.

This skinny girl spent many many nights wishing that she could wear an anything-but-A-cup maternity bathing suit or bra or experience those super-comfy maternity pants with the huge spandex waistband.

This skinny girl thinks you're beautiful.  I've been jealous of you for what your body was able to do.... for what it's doing.

And my babies' first moms? I think it's pretty safe to say that they struggle with their own jealousy, at times, too.

Keep letting your body do what it's been made to do for your baby.... but also do it for you... for the part of you who is allowed to hold on to your baby for as long as you need to, whether you're holding on to her as you rock her to sleep or snuggle with your toddler or carry him a little longer than you'd like because you can't hold him in your arms.

Every mom is, at the very least, entitled to a 'fat day' once in a while...

and every mom is  also entitled to carry her baby as long as she wants to, in any way she wants to....

and every mom, natural, adoptive, or birth-mom...

skinny, chubby, fat, thin, or whatever other term the world has thrown at you....

every single mom in the world....

 has that in common.