Birthdays...

This time of year we celebrate birthdays in our family. Except for my amazing husband (he's so amazing) and me, all of the other birthdays in the family take place in the spring.

We have Superman in mid-April, Lego Man in late April and then Wonder Woman in June.

And we have two babies in heaven who would have had birthdays in January and May.

It's been an unusually difficult spring for reasons unrelated to the miscarriages...but I do find myself sad again at this time of year...

One of our babies would turn 1 today. And one of our babies would be right around 3 months old.

Last year I chose to remember by running 7.5 miles on May 1 since the baby lived 7.5 weeks. This year, I'm not.

But I remember. I remember much of how it all happened. And I remember crying for weeks.
I remember crying on May 1 while running those 7.5 miles on the treadmill at the gym.

And then a couple weeks later, I remember finding out we were expecting another baby.

Here's what I know...18 or so months after the first miscarriage. And what I know isn't much. But it's something. And maybe you've lost something or someone too...and you need to know something I've learned.

• I know that God works all things out for our good. You don't even have to see the good yet...you just have to trust that His word is true. And it is...
• I know that He has a plan and purpose far beyond my understanding, and that His concern isn't that I am happy or fulfilled or comfortable. His concern is that my soul (and yours) is saved from eternal separation from Him. He wants me to seek HIM, love HIM, serve HIM and pursue righteousness.
• I know that pain, sorrow, trouble and suffering are part of this fallen world because of sin.
• I know that I have blessings overflowing in my life that begin with Jesus Christ saving my soul, my amazing husband loving me well and loving me when I am unlovable, and these three precious, living children that I love so much!
• I know that grief is a process. Sometimes it pops up when you least expect it. So I have learned to sit in the discomfort. There was a time when I didn't even want to pray, and I had a Godly husband and sweet friends who prayed for me until I wanted to pray again.
• I know that life isn't fair...and I have become quite thankful for that. IF life were fair, I would deserve death and separation from God...because I am a sinner in need of forgiveness, grace and mercy. So...fair would give me death and separation from God. No, I don't want fair in this life. I want mercy. I want the soothing grace and mercy of Jesus dying and raising from the dead to cover my sin. 
• I know the Lord heard my voice...even when I didn't want to speak, pray or utter a sound. He heard my cry for mercy. And I love Him!

On May 1 last year, I took the kids and took pictures of them in the bluebonnets. I think this will be part of our May 1 every year...it reminds me to be thankful for the countless blessings in this life. And it reminds me to be thankful for the pain also.

The miscarriage brought my husband and me closer together. His big, strong shoulders bore what I could not. He carried me. He cared FOR me. He never left my side. We walked through this together, as a team, lifting each other up. I know he lifted me more than I lifted him...and I am grateful beyond what I can express for his presence in my life. He is a great man. He was the hands and feet of Jesus to me for many months, and he walked through it with me every step of the way.

Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Day - 1 Year

There isn't a day that goes by that two precious angels don't cross my mind. The memories of their short lives (7.5 weeks miscarried) are never far from me. The pain of losing them is still fresh in my heart.

And yet, I am so thankful for where God has me...exactly one year later from our first experience with miscarriage.

I certainly never expected a second miscarriage, but then, honestly I never expected the first one.

This time last year, I could barely pray. I was angry, bitter and broken. 

But, God. 

This time last year I couldn't cry out to my Savior on my own. My amazing husband, wonderful friends and other, dear, loved ones did it on our behalf. When I couldn't pray, they prayed for me. When I couldn't worship, they worshipped for me. 

Jesus rescued me. He stood with me and strengthened me. Even when I didn't want to be strengthened. 

I am thankful that God is faithful, that His Word is true, that He never leaves us nor forsakes us...

I am thankful for my amazing and wonderful and loyal and strong husband. He is too good to me. 

He prays for me. He encourages me. He points me to Jesus. Daily.

We have five sweet, precious, amazing children. Lego Man, Wonder Woman, Superman and two precious angels. 

I pray that my heart will be more faithful to my loving God, because surely in this life, there will be more heartache.

"I will bless the Lord at all times. His praise shall continually be in my mouth!" Psalm 34:1

(You can read more about our journey by clicking here, here, and here.)

It is well...

I took a short break two weeks ago from this blog. From writing. I just needed to stop. Quite honestly, the words that have come out would probably not have been fun to read, and I may have chased every reader away with them.

On May 14, I took a pregnancy test early one morning and put it in an envelope so that Amazing Husband and I could open it together. When I handed it to him, he asked "Are you preggers?" with a sweet grin on his face.

I told him to open the envelope and tell me.

He said, "What does two lines mean?"

We were pregnant. On May 14, 2014 we were pregnant. We were excited and happy and making plans. We decided to wait until 12 weeks to tell the kids because of the miscarriage in October.
We began talking about names, I began to feel great (I always feel better pregnant than when I'm not), and I began to think about things we would need to do or get over the next 9-10 months.

All the normal baby planning things, we did those.

And then on a Sunday morning, June 8, I had some minor cramping and other symptoms that perhaps something wasn't right. It wasn't anything like last time, so I really tried to put it out of my mind until Monday morning when I woke up the signs were more obvious. I called my doctor and went in for blood work to be able to see where my levels were and if they were going up or down. I then waited 48 hours and went back for a second set to compare the two.

I texted a sweet friend to pray for me...one of the few people we've told. God brought her to mind immediately I feel like, for comfort. And she comforted me. She was the hands and feet of Jesus that week...texting me daily to check on me and pray for me.

On Thursday morning, June 12, the nurse called to let me know my numbers were going down and that meant that most likely we would miscarry. Again.

For some reason, I tried to sound peppy and normal on the phone with this woman who has heard me cry several times before. As if I needed to reassure her that I was okay. I wasn't okay, though. And truthfully, I am still not okay.

On Saturday, June 14, the miscarriage was over. It was obvious and yet not painful. I am so thankful for how it happened...that it wasn't difficult and drawn out like last time. I am thankful for three precious babies...Lego Man, Wonder Woman and Super-Spiderman. I am thankful for a husband who gets me, who loves me, who bears my burdens, who loves me in sickness and in health.

I don't know why. I don't understand.

I cried as I left the doctor's office Monday, June 9 and passed a young woman in the hallway. She was a pharmaceutical rep. The poor dear ended up in the elevator with me...a fate I know she would have preferred to avoid. She stepped on the elevator with me anyway. And then she asked if I was okay.

I told her that I wasn't okay, but that I would be okay one day. And I was grateful for her kindness in asking even if it was only because it was the polite thing to do.

I sat in the parking lot of the doctor's office that day and cried the same hot and angry tears that I cried October 14. I drove home knowing what we were facing...and knowing it would be hard.

I would love to tell you that this time, my faith is so much stronger, deeper and mature. That God prepared my heart to handle this weight once more. I would love to tell you all these things that would make you love God more and hopefully turn your heart toward His.

The truth is: I can't make you do or feel anything. I can't make you love Him or want Him or turn to Him with anything I say or don't say.

And some days, I don't want to make myself turn to Him. I just want to feel angry or hurt or mad or confused or whatever.

BUT - what I've learned is that my heart is truly HIS. And despite the feelings I have inside right now through this season of loss, I still run to HIM. I run to HIM because without HIM I feel completely lost, alone, hopeless, desperate and dry. I run to HIM because He is there. He never leaves me. He never forsakes me. He knows my name and how many hairs (gray included) are on my head.

And I don't have to understand at this moment the why. I just have to fully surrender my heart to His plan and say, It is well...

Fumbling in the dark...

The best way to describe a miscarriage is like fumbling in the dark.

Since I had already had three wonderful kids, once I was pregnant, I kind of knew what was coming. I knew what to expect.

I knew how my belly would grow. I knew that I would crave certain things.

Baby 1: buffalo wings and buffalo sauce. The sauce is good with just about everything.
Baby 2: Fruity Pebbles. Sometimes half a bag in one sitting.
Baby 3: Peanut butter and chocolate ice cream. Please and thank you.

I knew that I would look forward to my big tummy and be sad about it all at once.
I knew that I would have trouble turning over in bed at night beginning about week 24. I knew that I would look forward to the end only because I got to have weekly appointments and hear the heartbeat.

Oh, the heartbeat. The consistent, speedy, static-y hum of that doppler machine. Music. Pure music to my ears.

And then there is miscarriage.

From my own experience, this is just something people don't seem to discuss or share or talk about. Sure there are plenty of blog posts like some of mine where people share their experiences. And perhaps there are even people talking about it in churches and Bible studies and with friends.

Honestly, though, until I had to walk this road, I was pretty clueless. It was a lot like fumbling in the dark.

I have two family members that I know of who have experienced miscarriage. And still, knowing their experiences didn't necessarily help me in my own. Yes, it helped in some ways. Since we are all so different in our own body chemistry, no miscarriage is exactly like another. Unless people are willing to share with you the details, really, you just have to walk it out on your own.

For me, I think God used this purposefully to draw me nearer to Him. Amazing husband couldn't answer my questions. My precious mom didn't know what to say. My dear and wonderful and sweet friends have been so encouraging and kind. They poured out love on me and our family. And still, only God could heal me. Only God could handle all of my tears, anger, frustration, fear and just general craziness. Only God could catch all of my tears. Only God could be my Savior...only God could heal my broken heart and bind up all my wounds.

Friends, isn't that the point? That only God can...do whatever it is we need done in our lives.

Yes, yes, that is the point. Only God.