Miscarriage Sucks...

Can I please just say this one more time? Miscarriage sucks.

It just sucks.

Yes, I realize with 100% certainty that two precious babies of mine (and countless other's babies) are in heaven with Jesus...

And while that provides a degree of comfort, it does not soothe my soul on this day, or any other day.

Can I just say that an hour ago...and for months before this, I was, pretty much, okay? About the miscarriage(s). I was (and still am) okay.

But just in case you don't know...and you've never had one (and I pray that you don't because it really rips a heart to pieces), miscarriage sucks.

When I least expect it, grief rears its ugly head and my heart breaks a little.

When I least expect it, something I read or see or smell or hear triggers my emotions and jogs my memory...and I know that two precious children are missing from our family on this earth.

Earlier today I sat and talked about the events of the last 18 months and how God shaped me and formed me and changed me through such a painful and difficult time. And I talked about how I was angry and mad and bitter and at times, unfaithful to God...but He was always faithful to me.

And then tonight I stumbled onto something QUITE randomly on the internet...darn you, Pinterest! And within a second it was as if I were in the doctor's office staring at a picture on a screen with no beating heart all over again.

It is heartbreaking. And maybe that's the point. That He - the almighty ONE, the CREATOR of all things - needs us to be broken in order to use us.

SO, here I am...reminded once again...that I need Him to fix me, to heal me, to save me from myself...and restore all that is broken within me.

Alone in a room full of people...

(I wrote this post one year ago today...and never pushed publish. I decided to publish it today, because unfortunately, someone somewhere may feel all alone in a room full of people.)

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Sitting in a waiting room sea of pregnant moms. 

Everyone has a smile on their face. As best I can tell, I'm the only one in here with a dead baby inside.

Am I assuming? Yes. Am I going to confirm and take a poll? No.

Husband asked if seeing babies or pregnant people this week upset me. I said no. He said it hurt him and made him angry. But I haven't really left the house since Monday when I found out about the miscarriage.

Hurts more than I thought. And everywhere (here especially) there are reminders of a baby in heaven. 

Here's a list I found on my phone of things we needed...

Adding insult to injury is the fact that I still feel so nauseous. Feel like I could vomit at any moment.

They didn't ask me to pee in a cup today. Why would I? No baby. No need to. Still, I notice.

Wasn't prepared for the procedure that awaited me.

When we found out we had a dead baby inside and no active miscarriage on the horizon, we opted for a semi-natural way to facilitate the miscarriage. I would take pills to encourage the miscarriage and wait. 

I had no idea that four pills later I would have nothing. Nothing to show. Nothing happened. Body still thinks I'm pregnant and I'm nauseated. Constantly. Daily reminder.

So after a full week, we returned to the doctor on Friday for an ultrasound to see if anything had progressed and to weigh options.

I should mention at this point that we have no insurance. So everything we do, we pay cash for.  And apparently miscarriages cost more than having live babies. And that is just wrong.

Sorry, you're baby is dead. And this is going to be long, drawn out and terribly painful with no happy ending; oh, and this will cost you...more than having the baby live. 

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When I read this today, my heart hurts a little for the woman who wrote this. I hurt for her pain. I hurt for her sadness. I hurt because I can feel the emotions behind her words.

While I'm the one who wrote this, some 365 days ago, I'm not the same woman...praise the Lord. No, hopefully, I am a stronger, better woman. A woman who trusts God's plan even when I don't see it, I don't understand it and especially, when I don't agree with it.

I miss our babies. I miss our children we lost, now that there have been two. While I would choose to live without the pain of this past year, I am also thankful to have walked this road.

I would love to tell you this drew me closer to Jesus. That I fell to my knees and wept and pledged my love and heart to Jesus on the many hard days that followed October 14, 2013. I would love to tell you that my heart is whole and healed and my attitude is right toward my Heavenly Father.

I am ashamed of how I've acted this past year in my walk with the Lord...and yet...

Here's what I will tell you instead. If you know Jesus, know this...He loves you. He loves me. His body was broken for you, and for me. He bore our sins - yours and mine - because we never could. We never could atone for the horrible things we would do. So, He died...for you and for me.

That doesn't mean we won't have pain and heartache. That doesn't mean that dark days are not ahead. It means this: today, I still love Jesus and I still need Him. If God allows me a tomorrow, I will still love Him and still need Him. Each day teaches me that I simply need Him more. More and more and more and more.

This past year has been a dark year. I have been angry and distant and running away from Him instead of to Him so He could heal me. And still, He loves me. He loved me in the midst of my sin and anger and distance. And He loves you just the same...

Wherever you are, in whatever ways you are broken and hurting, there is a God who loves you. Beyond measure. Beyond compare.

"But God demonstrates His love for us in this: that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us..." Romans 5:8

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.)

False Saviors

This post may ramble a bit, but I desperately needed this word planted in my heart. I think maybe that somebody else might need it too. Maybe it's you. Maybe it's someone you know. Or maybe this is a nugget for you to tuck away for one day when you realize you need it.

I went running this morning with a friend, and as we ran we talked about the miscarriage...and "how I'm doing" now. She knew of my plans to run certain numbers last week in honor of the baby and the due date. And she said this,

"Carly, I think you took a really difficult situation and you did something positive with it. You took your pain and heartache, and you used it in a positive way. There are so many other things you could have done to get through the pain, but you did something positive instead."

From the moment I knew that we had miscarried, there was a battle raging in my heart and mind. It was nothing short of a David & Goliath showdown except the foes were named Savior & False Savior.

I asked God why, so many times. Fresh out of the doctors office where I saw the baby with no heartbeat, I cried hot, angry tears, and I screamed inside my car. I screamed, and I shouted, and I raged at God.

Savior wanted me to remember who God is, that He could use this for my good. That He loves me beyond my comprehension. That I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

False savior kept whispering to me that God really isn't that good. He allowed this to happen. He took our baby. We had already lost so much (it seemed) and He wasn't finished taking from us.

Savior was quiet. He never shouted. He spoke in whispers. He spoke in the sweet e-mails and texts from friends...reminding me that He loves and cares for me and catches every tear. He spoke in scripture verses that came to mind.

False savior was loud, obsessive and repetitive with his taunts.

There were times that I listened more to the False savior. It's so much easier to hear the louder voice.

I'm not proud to admit that many, many times I simply was faithless. I was hurt and angry. And I felt completely justified in defiantly telling someone that "I don't want to pray right now!"

I was listening to the False savior. I was allowing His lies to take root in my heart.

Now that I am on the other side of this mountain, the False savior has a new tactic. Now he's reminding me of how I turned away from the Savior, how I had such little faith, how I was angry and disloyal to my God. My true Savior.

In the midst of all of the pain of the miscarriage and the crazy emotions it brought to the surface, I could have run to 1,000 different false saviors. I could have turned to alcohol, drugs, my past eating disorder or any number of things to save me from the pain. Believe me, the False savior tried every tactic.

Instead I chose to run. By choosing to run, I chose the true Savior. Because on those runs - the hard, cold, long runs - I needed my Savior, my God to keep me going. I quoted more scripture on those runs than I had in months. I cried out to Him to relieve the pain, to heal me. I ran to Him. It was on those runs that I finally wanted to pray again.

Dear friend, maybe you need this message and maybe you don't. One thing I do know for sure, there is a God who loves you and me and everyone else beyond what we can even imagine. And no matter what mountain you're facing, He is there for you. He can turn your mourning into dancing. He can remove your sadness and clothe you with joy.

Those false saviors will always disappoint. But the one true God, He never will.

In the fresh light of day...

Things always seem a little clearer. Not easier. Not necessarily better. Just clearer. 

Exhaustion or simply being tired can be a dangerous thing for one's emotions. It certainly is for mine. My heart aches for our little one. An ache of longing.

And yet, in the light of day, I know that God's plan and purpose are far greater than mine ever will be.

So on the due date, I decided not to sit home and be sad. Perhaps my decision was driven by the precious children I do life with every day, and the fact that sitting home being sad wouldn't be fair to them. Or perhaps I wanted to honor the little life in a fun and special way.

I decided we would skip school, have lunch at In-N-Out Burger, take pictures in the bluebonnets and just enjoy the day together. We laughed. We had sodas. We ate french fries and burgers. We ran in the flowers. We were silly.

It was joy.

Amazing Husband wasn't with us. No, he had to work. And for that I am grateful - that he works so hard for us so that I can be with our children every day. And I am thankful that God has provided for us and enabled us to be able to homeschool.

I also decided that I would run 7.5 miles on May 1...the due date for each of the weeks the baby lived.

And then on May 2, the day after our due date, I ran 11 miles for each of the weeks I carried the baby.

Running has really helped me pound out my emotions on the pavement. It's a release. And even though I have cried through many runs, it's been healing to get it out.

7.5 weeks baby was alive.

11 weeks I carried baby.

May 1 - Our due date

Our baby was due today.  Every day this week I have fought back tears at one moment or another. Today I cried three times at the gym. In public. I honestly didn't know how I would feel on this day. All of this has been hard in one way or another, so I wasn't sure if this would be just any other hard day or not. As this day has drawn closer, I almost could feel it attempting to smother me like a hot blanket pressed down over me. Hot tears. Hot pain. Hot anger.

I sit here to do school with the kids and try to stop the tears from falling. I don't want them to know I'm upset. I don't want them to know my heart hurts. I don't want to hear from them that it's okay to cry (because I tell them it is okay all the time). I don't want to hear that time will make it feel better. I don't want to hear that the baby is in heaven. I don't want to hear it. It really doesn't make me feel better.Words do not ease this pain. Words do not fill the void left by the little person I carried for 12 weeks. And unfortunately, I think I'm entering the angry phase. At least for today. Because if someone said something nice to me I think I would reply with ugly words in hot anger. Or I might not. I don't know.

Dear husband came home last night and I thought all day of things I wanted to say to him about how I was feeling and when I finally was able to let it out, I could barely form the words to tell him May 1 was our due date.

I think I'm rambling a little. 

I think one of the harder parts of miscarriage is just having to sit with the feelings, sit in the pain, to feel it, to endure the ache and the longing and the emptiness.

I know Awesome Husband wishes he could help me. I know my friends wish they could help me too.

I wish they could as well.

And perhaps...that is it. The point of it all. The ultimate "God works all things together for our good..." ending to the story...

That this ache, this pain, this complete lack of understanding why...there's no one who has the answers. There's no one who can help me. There's no one who can easy my heartache.

BUT God.

And maybe that is the point of it all...that I really have no choice but turn to Him...and allow Him to heal me from the inside out.

I don't know what we will do today to honor the memory of our baby. I don't know. But I do know that in the moments today that seem impossible, I will have to turn to Him to move forward.

**God blessed me with a truly wonderful husband. I could not have walked this road without him. He's been so good to me. Better than I deserve. He's been strong. Stronger than I could ever be. I am so thankful for him. Each and every day. He is such a good, Godly man, and I love him more each day.

I am also blessed with three living children. They are precious and wonderful and loving. I am more blessed than I deserve.

38 weeks

Do you know how pregnant I would be right now? How my belly would stick so far out front it would defy the law of gravity...I would be front-heavy. You'd wonder how I could stand and not topple forward. You'd remind me to hold the rail when I walk up or down the stairs. You'd ask me if I had twins in there. 

I would have been counting down the days to the due date since there were 90 left. Because that's what I do. I would have my amazing husband take photos of my growing belly even though it isn't quite flattering. But it is beautiful. It would have been beautiful. 

By this time I would be wishing to lose the baby weight quickly and feel more like a normal person again. And then I would remember that the extra pounds were bringing a beautiful baby into the world. And it would be so worth it. 

The baby would have a name. 

The baby would have a room and his or her crib (the beautiful handmade one from Grandpa T) would be all set up and ready to welcome baby. 

Wonder Woman would be beside herself with excitement. And I just might let her in the delivery room so that she won't be afraid of doing it herself one day. That might also work at cross-purposes. 

I would be dreading the needles (if any were medically necessary) and planning to go drug-free this time. No induction. No epidural. That was my plan. 

I would be ready and not ready all at once. 

I would be elated and terrified. 

I would be preparing for the torture of postpartum depression that I know would hit even before the baby was delivered. It has gotten increasingly worse with each baby. And it started even before delivery last time. But I know that God is good and merciful. Aside from His healing, man-made medicine is a wonderful thing too. 

And can I just tell you that God absolutely blessed me with my amazing husband who walked me through each postpartum experience-even with the miscarriage.  He prayed for me. He cared for me. He did all the things I could not do at the time. Every day I am more and more grateful for him. 

We would be celebrating two birthdays in April and hopefully baby would not arrive on top of either one. 

We still aren't pregnant again. We haven't been trying. Actually we've been trying not to become pregnant. And the only people who ask me if we will try to have another are the ones who have also miscarried. No one else asks. And really, I have no answer. I tell the kids that we will do whatever God tells us to do. 

I held a baby for the first time yesterday. She reached for me. She was so happy with my sunglasses. First baby I've wanted to hold. And maybe it was because she wanted me. 

Our youngest will soon turn 6. Tomorrow actually. And I know that having another after 6 years would be different and a challenge. Everything is so easy now. They can all help themselves in many ways. 

And yet, I still long for that baby of mine. Our baby in heaven. Our angel baby. 

I wrote a few weeks ago about the race I ran being a great distraction. Oh, how it was. Because now that it's over, the thoughts of how far along I would be fill my mind. Today would be 38 weeks. Baby would arrive any day. And now that the race is over, I find myself thinking about it much more.

Running is a great heartache reliever. And yet, when my feet stop pounding the pavement each day, the heartache eventually catches up to me. That pain that I was pounding away or running from...it returns. 

It greets me in the morning in time to lace up my shoes one more time. And it returns at the sight of a beautiful, pregnant mom. It returns when I see a brand new baby in a car seat. It returns when I think about the due date coming up. I don't even think we had shared the due date with anyone yet. Maybe I'm keeping it to myself because, really, who wants to know the due date of the baby you miscarried? 

So today I laced up again. Running to forget. Running to feel pain in my legs, and a little less of it in my heart. 

I keep reminding myself that "God works all things together for our good"...I repeat it as my feet strike the pavement. A rhythmic reminder of His goodness, even in the pain. 

Five months...

A thousand emotions have barreled through my heart since September 2013. There are days when I don't feel sad over the miscarriage anymore. Then there are days that catch me by surprise when I see a baby in a new mom's arms.

And sweet Superman always touches my tummy and says, "Mom, I can't believe there was a baby in there..."

Me neither, sweet Superman. And I can't believe the baby's gone. Only, I can believe it now. I know it's final, and over. And I have felt the finality in my heart since I left the hospital after the D&C with no fanfare, no pomp and circumstance and no baby in my arms. The only thing I took home was juice and Nutter Butter cookies. The details we remember...

It's been five months today since we found out we lost the baby. And today, I am okay. I am more than okay. The day is still young, but I probably won't cry. 

Today, I choose to rejoice in the little life that was. The baby whose heart beat for a short 7 weeks. The baby to whom I'd grown so attached in such a short amount of time. 

Today, I choose to rejoice in our family of six. Six. 6. We are a family of 6. Three, precious kids alive, and one precious, angel baby. 

Today, I choose to be grateful for my amazing husband. Without him, I would not have made it through the difficult days. He was strong when I was weak. He was able when I was not. He took care of the kids when I could barely function. He took care of me when I really didn't care enough to take care of myself. In so many ways (and often when I needed it most), he pointed me back to Jesus...the only one who could heal the hurt in my heart. 

Some days are better than others. There are days when I feel the ache inside almost as much as I did five months ago. Then there are days, like today, when I feel like rejoicing because the Lord has dealt bountifully with me. 

When it feels that God is distant...

I have been trying to put my finger on this for sometime...my sweet husband had similar questions. Since September, I've been wondering where God was in all of this.

I know that the Bible tells us "He never leaves us nor forsakes us," in Deuteronomy 31:6. In my searching for His presence, to feel Him near, I have clung to this verse. I have spoken it out loud. I have said it to husband in the midst of our miscarriage, and he has said it to me too.

I have questioned and asked why. Why are you not near? Why are you distant?

I also know the old saying, "If it feels like God is distant, guess who moved?"

The one difference in my life, I'm sad to explain, is that I've been busy. I've spent less time alone in prayer and reading God's Word. I was much more disciplined to do that while I was working. While I still read my Bible often, and I still pray throughout every day, I do know that I've put other things ahead of my time with God.

I could type you a decent list of excuses about being busy. It would be all the same things that everyone else is facing. Then you add to that our miscarriage experience and having to shut our business down (which I haven't yet talked about) all within a month of each other, and then I didn't want to.

I didn't want to pray. 

image source

It took some time before I wanted to pray again. It took some time before I wanted to worship. And then one day it hit me, I missed the presence of the Lord. I missed my time with Him...finding comforting bits of truth in His Word that would lift my spirit on long days. 

Where are you, God? Where have you been in all of this? I know that you have a plan. I just don't see it. I just don't understand it. Where are you? You said you would never leave me nor forsake me, but honestly this feels a lot like you left me. 

Last week, I was reading a devotional by Pastor Rick Warren. The title of the post was "Seeking Feeling is Not Worship." And the first sentence stopped me cold.

"God not has not promised 'you will always feel my presence.' In fact, God admits that He hides his face from us." 

"Truly you are a God who has been hiding himself; the God of Israel." Isaiah 45:15

Warren explains that this testing of the relationship is necessary for the growth and development of our faith. 

The way I've experienced it, I have found myself wondering what I did wrong. Is this a consequence of past sin? Is this a punishment? Most importantly, I have wondered is this permanent? Will I feel His presence again? Will I enjoy the richness of time with my God as He bandages my wounds and comforts my soul like balm?

"If I go to the east, he is not there; If I go to the west, I do not find him. When he is at work in the north, I do not see him; when he turns to the south, I catch no glimpse of him. But He knows the way I take; when He has tested me, I will come forth as gold." Job 23:8-10.

And in that instant, I knew that HE was speaking to me once again. Perhaps He is still hiding himself from me, knowing that I will seek Him. All the more, I am so thankful that He spoke this word to me. 

I'm so thankful that He knows the way I take. He knows. And for now, that is all that I need to know. 

Linking up. Join me!

3 Things That Helped When We Miscarried

While I can only speak for myself and not my husband, I want to share some things that helped me when we miscarried. There were so many things that did not help...even from people who love me and wanted to be helpful to me during that time.

For those of you reading who might be grieving a miscarriage or maybe you know someone who is, here are three things that helped me.

This was the message they found in the scavenger hunt we did for the kids to find out we were having a baby. See that grin on her face? Wonder Woman wanted a little sister so badly.

1. It helped me to have time to process and do as little as possible. 
We have three beautiful, wonderful, busy children. My husband works. I stay home and homeschool the kids. We're busy just like everyone else. The week I found out we miscarried I did nothing. Yes, I showered. Yes, I ate. And yes, I went to multiple doctor appointments. When I was home, though, I was home...doing nothing. If you knew me in real life, you know that nothing is difficult for me. Nothing is painful. I'm a mover. I'm a doer. I do laundry all day. I clean the kitchen several times. I do crafty things just to keep me busy.

But for two weeks, I did nothing. I watched more TV in two weeks than I have in my life. It was mostly "House Hunters" and "Love it or List it!" We also caught up on some recorded shows we've been wanting to watch.

Television was a good distraction. But doing nothing was absolutely wonderful.
After two weeks, I was bored.

2. I grieved. I cried. I talked about it. A lot. 
This isn't rocket science, people. This is grief. And grief is hard. At least, this one was for me. I have grieved loved ones, relationships, churches, people, jobs and many other things in this life. I have grieved pregnancies once I delivered the babies because I missed having them safely inside. I have grieved open doors out of fear. I have grieved closed or missed opportunities because I was too afraid to take them.

Flowers for my anniversary. I split them into two vases. We celebrated our anniversary just a week before we found out about the MC.

Until now, I have never grieved quite like this. I have never cried so hard or questioned so defiantly. I have never wept for so long and asked God why in so many different ways. But a wise woman once told me that God isn't afraid of my questions. He isn't afraid of my unbelief. He isn't afraid of my pain or even my anger. I mean no disrespect to God. I still have reverent fear of the living God and His righteousness...His holiness...His awesome power. I still love Him, and need Him, and desire to know Him more and more every day.

I told God when I didn't feel like praying. And I told my friends who asked the same thing.
And they prayed for me until I could utter a prayer myself.

3. I wrote everything down. 
On my phone, on the computer, in my journal, on pages in my Bible. I wrote. I wrote details. I wrote painful things. I wrote funny things. I wrote everything and anything that I wanted to remember. And I even wrote things I would love to forget. Because I don't want to forget. I don't want to forget the baby who lived inside for 7 weeks. I don't want to forget the way it all happened. I don't want to forget the pain. I don't want to forget the sadness. I don't want this life that was short to be a distant memory. So, I wrote it all down. And one day I can go back to read it...or not. But at least it's there.

Lucy likes trampolines. My kids like Lucy. It works well.

It's a funny thing...

...what loss and hardship and heartache will do to you. It's almost been four months to the day (Oct. 14) that we found out we lost our baby at 7 weeks. And only today I realized something.

I realized that our loss...the difficulty of the miscarriage and all that we had to go through to get past it has left me in a state of perpetual fear, constant anxiety and incredible insecurity. I realize that part of this is a necessary step in the grieving process; however, I'm more concerned that this darkness I feel will linger.

I'm nervous to leave our children in the care of others. What if something happened to them? I'm nervous to leave our children, period. What if something happened to me? I'm nervous to go places without my husband. What if I have to see someone or talk to someone?

None of these fears are a true reflection of me - who I am, and yet, they very much reflect how I feel right now. All the time.

Throughout the past four months, I have been very open about our struggles, my emotions, the pain and the depression. I have been open about questioning God and wondering why. I have been open about not wanting to pray while in the depths of grief.

Once again, I am opening up a bit more to reveal my fear and insecurity. To me it's just another reflection of my faithlessness. It reflects my lack of trust in my God. And I am grieved that my heart is so easily convinced that this suffering means He has somehow forgotten me and us.

Once upon a time, a very dear friend of mine spoke something to me. I had just given birth to our sweet little Superman. I was in the midst of post-partum depression and she helped me. She just said, "I know how you feel. I have been there. And when you don't know what else to do, speak God's Word to yourself. Find a verse that ministers to your heart, and speak it until you believe it."

At first, I dismissed what she said. Not because I didn't agree with her. Not because I thought it was a bad idea. I actually think I dismissed it because I should have known to do that already.

So after a week of continued sadness, I finally did what she had told me to do. And I found this verse...

For now, this comforts me again. Because I know that whatever I have to endure in this life, He will supply all my needs. If I need strength, He will supply. If I need hope, He will supply. If I need love, He pours it out on me.

Whatever I need, He will supply.

On the hard days...

I haven't been vague about what this miscarriage has done to my faith. No, in fact, I think I've shared that basically this miscarriage has rocked my faith to its core.

Why? Why would something like this take me so far away from the strong faith, praise the name of Jesus at all times, cry out to Him and run to Him faith I have clung to for so many years?

I don't know. I just don't. I don't have the answers.

But today, it was a hard day. Not so much over the miscarriage, but over everything. Over the pain and struggle of this life and this world. Over the sadness and grief and pain that is this life.

And when I think one more time, as I have so many times since October that God's ears don't hear my cries anymore, He sends light in the form of a text message from a friend. It never fails...she texts me whenever I am sad, hurt, broken once again. Just to check on me. And let me know that she cares.

The rows were all full...

We like to sit on the ends of the rows at church...are we weird or do most people prefer that?

Wonder Woman only 6 months old.

Tonight at church, the ends of the rows were all full as I quickly approached the middle of the sanctuary. I was secretly wishing we had spent less time drinking hot chocolate in the lobby and focused on getting to our seats, but the kids enjoyed the cocoa, and I enjoy them.

Then miraculously, as if the heavens opened and a light shone down, the end of one row was open. For us. Can't you hear the choirs of angels singing?

Oh, you can't? Maybe it wasn't that dramatic. But there is often a lot of anxiety surrounding church for me, so in my mind it was just like that.

I ushered the kids into their seats, I took my seat, and husband sat down in the end seat.

Superman sleeping only 13 months old.

A little girl came to the stage reciting scriptures from Luke 2. I was thoroughly paying attention to her. As she finished we stood to sing a Christmas carol, and then, in that  moment as we stood, I saw her right in front of me.

A precious little girl, maybe 4 months old. She wore candy cane, striped tights, ballets flats, and a white onesie with Santa on the front and bell sleeves.

I can't say I wouldn't have sat there if I noticed her first, but I certainly would have braced myself a little more for impact.

And as we stood and sang "Silent Night" my eyes filled with tears, the lump in my throat returned, and my face wanted to maneuver into the ugly cry for a moment.

For whatever reason, I stopped. The tears filled my eyes, but didn't fall. I watched her a lot during the service. I noticed her smile and the way her little brother played with her. It's funny what you notice when you've lost something...someone...

Perhaps I didn't cry because I was enjoying the moment God gave me. I was sitting with my family - all of them - at the Christmas Eve service for our church. It was the perfect Christmas present for me. To have us all together at church, singing Christmas carols, laughing, learning, worshipping.

Lego Man only 4 months old. 

Thank you...part 2

Read part 1 here...

I do believe in God's goodness and mercy. This experience has brought me to the edge of my faith. And I wish I could say I was that Godly woman who cried out, "God, give me more of you even if I have to walk this hard and terrible road along the way..." But through this, I wasn't that woman. I have been so faithless. Questioning God. Wanting to understand and to know why. 

There have been days where I haven’t even wanted to pray. Aside from the fact that I haven’t known what to pray, I simply didn’t want to. Because praying meant a flood of tears and heartache.

A dear friend texted me one night to check on me shortly after the D&C. I told her I felt hopeless. I’ve heard before that hopelessness or despair is a sin because we are believing the lie that God doesn’t win, that God doesn’t prevail, that there’s no hope. And since we have Jesus, we always have hope…

She told me to pray, to cry out to God and ask why. That He understands and can handle all my questions. And I told her I didn’t want to pray. And as I typed those words a surge of anger within me caused me to pound the buttons on my phone.

She said she would pray for me. “I’ll pray for you, then…”

Five words. Five words that I assure you I felt tangibly over the next week. Like a warm blanket over my soul.

And other friends, who had no idea what was going on in our lives, messaged or texted me to let me know they were thinking of me and praying for me. And as these messages trickled in, I would share with each of them the road we were walking. Or perhaps crawling is a more fitting term.

People were praying for us. The emotions, the pain, the anger, the lack of understanding…it easily overwhelms. I think it magnifies the insecurities I already have. Perhaps that’s a trick of the enemy to kick us while we are down. All I can tell you is that the pain I felt led me to question and contemplate every detail of our lives. Sometimes I think that’s good…to assess where I am and ask the Lord to show me all the areas that need less of me and more of Him. Sometimes, though, the enemy sneaks in and uses it to attack and harm and distract. Because it’s easy to get caught up in all that I’m doing wrong and forget to focus on the One who sees me, loves me, forgives me and heals me.

“He heals the brokenhearted
and binds up their wounds.” Psalm 147:3

I know He is healing me. I feel the prayers of those who love me. I remember the words I have hidden in my heart for times like these.

And today, I want to pray. I want more of Him. I want to worship.

Not because I feel whole. Not because I feel better and happy and life is ladybugs and sparkles.

No, I don’t feel any of that. But feeling the desire to pray and the need for worship is sweet. And I feel hopeful. I know I will always miss the baby we lost. The baby without a name. The baby we knew nothing about. The baby with no heartbeat. Our baby in heaven.