Merry Christmas

Yesterday was a beautiful day. I had some concerns that my joy would be eclipsed by grief, but God gave me grace all day to enjoy His lavish blessings. Joy and sorrow were inseperable and it was beautiful.

After a big meal and more presents than I could handle, I craved a nap before church but there was something I wanted to do more than sleep. Last week, I got the idea of wearing a necklace with all my babies' birth stones. We don't have a lot of money right now, but I found some crystal charms on ebay for $1.50 each. I ordered them, but to my disappoinment they clumped together so you couldn't see all of them at once. Jeremy had the idea of separating them with silver beads (what would I do without him!). So 20 minutes before it closed, I went to Michael's to find just the right silver beads. Here is the result:

It's a simple necklace. No one would notice it; especially since it sort of matched my green dress. But it felt wonderful to take my babies to church with me on Christmas. It was fun to share the experience with Meredith. She kept asking which charm was for which baby. She likes Selah's green "emerald" better than her "diamond". I chose to use stones from the months they would have been born (it's just simpler that way). Meredith helped me string the beads and charms on a chain. When it was finished she said, "All your little sweeties!" How blessed I am to have these three "sweeties"!

Christmas Eve services always choke me up. The church is filled to capacity, the message never gets old and the songs are transcendent. I teared up a little early last night. The opening prayer acknowledged our loved ones who made it to heaven before us: "Finally, let us remember before God all those who rejoice with us in heaven, who live in greater light than we... and who live before the throne o f God and praise Him each day in His temple. We confess that we are united with them as we are united with one another. " I can't describe how I felt that moment. I felt God's comforting presence and permission encouragement to rejoice over things to come. It was a sweet moment of fresh revelation that "He comes to make His blessings flow far as the curse if found." I was so concerned about facing the contrast of the joy of Christmas with my pain of loss, but what I found is that sorrow creates longing and Christmas offers the promise of all longings fulfilled. My sorrow opened my eyes to see more clearly the joy of what God accomplished through Jesus.

After the service I visited with friends including one woman whom I admire greatly. Her name is Shirley and she is probably in her eighties. She and her husband are generous, thoughtful and humble. I hope I can be like them some day. Shirley came over to us to wish us a Merry Christmas. Somehow she got to telling us about her daughter, Bonnie who died this year. She told us how Bonnie loved Christmas and how every year she baked for a month gave it all away. I don't pretend to know what Shirley is going through, but I recognize her need to remember her daughter's life here and also to acknowledge that her life continues in perfect peace and joy. With a smile on her face she said, "This Christmas is a celebration of Bonnie's death." Any other day I would have thought it strange that she said she was celebrating Bonnie's death since most people speak of celebrating a loved one's life. But this year I share a special bond with this grieving mother. Shirley and I both know death is just the beginning. We both know that Christmas points our grieving hearts heavenward.

Merry Christmas!

New Ornament, New Name

I've been looking for an ornament for my second baby in heaven and I finally found one:

I like it because the snowflake reminds me that God makes each person unique regardless of how long they live or how big they grow. I can't wait to meet this special person someday.

I also decided on a name. Selah. The meaning is ambiguous, but I like the common understanding, "Pause and consider". In my baby fever, my second loss caused me to pause and consider all the LORD has done for me and even though I am in pain, to conclude He is good. I found a second meaning: literally "to hang" which implies weighing -translated in Job 28:19, "valued". I like both meanings together. Selah reminds me that my baby has weight in this world and eternal weight in the next. He/she touched my life by bringing me closer to the heart of God who loves us both.

Here is Shalem's ornament:

I found this back in September. It completed the memory box I made for Shalem and I intend to keep it there year round when it's not on the tree. It reminds me that God is using my pain for something beautiful. I am humbled to see the beauty unfolding in unexpected ways. I already mentioned in another post that Shalem means "complete, safe, unharmed, peaceful, perfect, whole, full, at peace with God". Shalem reminds me both my babies are safe.


I love having these ornaments on the tree. I didn't want Shalem's ornament up without Selah's; it was too painful at first anyway. The concept of Christmas after loss took some getting used to, but now I see that Christmas is about celebrating the One who came to "bind up the broken hearted." (Isaiah 61:1) I'm so thankful for all the ways I have to honor and remember my babies. I'm thankful for their short, beautiful lives. 

Missing Shalem

I haven't been feeling very motivated today. It's one o'clock and I'm still in my pajamas. I forgot that my due date is coming up. According to my calculations I was due December 6th. I told people December 9th because that's what my midwife would go by. I didn't have a specific date in mind; I just knew it would be early December. It could be any day now. I know it wasn't meant to be, but I can't help letting my mind wander to that parallel reality where my baby lives.

Meredith helped me drop my defenses and start to grieve the way I need to. Earlier today I was lying down resting and she came to cuddle with me. I told her I was sad because the baby would have been born sometime around now. She had some questions about how big he/she would be, but there was no sadness. She has gradually stopped bringing up the babies and when she mentions them now it is in a casual context. She has found acceptance. She has the benefit of a simple faith unclouded by too much human reason. She brought me some dinosaur toys and asked if I wanted to play. We started playing and she said, "This is what we would be doing if you were in labor right now. You would be lying down and I would be here playing with you." I think she was remembering when I actually was in "labor" this past Mother's Day. That is pretty much what we did that day: she brought me toys, and I played between contractions. Her little comment brought some tears. Not too many, but enough that I knew I was in touch with the big "what if" that brings so much pain; the "what if" I need to visit sometimes.

A little later, Meredith found me crying. She asked what was wrong and I told her I was sad about the baby. She said, "You have me, ya know. You don't have to be sad about the baby because you still have me." I held her and told her I was sooo glad I have her. I told her I was still sad about the babies because my heart grew new places for them. She wanted to know where those places were so I said they were like imaginary containers full of love and I had one for each child. She still didn't seem satisfied. I don't ever want her to feel like she's not enough. How could I explain? While we were eating, one of our cats was begging at the table. We have two cats, Tigger and Emily who are both important members of the family. I said, "You love Tigger and Emily don't you?" "Yes." Then I asked if she would be sad if one died, but not the other and of course she said "yes". I told her that's a little bit like what it's like to have kids and why I can love her and miss the others. Then we started talking about the different plans Jesus had for each of them. The two babies went to heaven right away, but He wanted her to live. We talked about the other plans God might have for her someday. Today she thinks she will be a mother and a zookeeper who lets her kids feed the animals.

After talking to Meredith and seeing things through her eyes, I wondered what my little Shalem would say if he/she could talk to me now. "Why are you crying Mommy? I'm safe here with Jesus. We'll all be together again, you'll see." I imagine my Shalem is a little like Meredith with a simple faith that doesn't question God's goodness and His promise to make everything new. I would explain that my heart is learning to let go because we can't be together now. I'm still on the side of heaven where death stings and I can't see how it all works out.

The True Meaning of Christmas

Okay, so I made it through Thanksgiving! It was harder than I thought it would be. I felt my babies' absence so strongly. Every reminder of the Christmas season reminded me they were gone. We put up our tree on Friday. Every ornament reminded me of past Christmases before the "new normal". What is it about holidays? I have a hunch the child in me has sky high expectations for everything to be just right and everything is not just right. I know in my head that things will never be perfect here on earth, but I always secretly hope it will be close. I don't ask for much. I just want all my loved ones with me and a guarantee that nothing bad will ever happen to them. Is that too much to ask? Holidays bring out the kid in me who would rather have her desires gratified than to grow in patience; who would rather have healthy babies than Spiritual blessings.

I suppose it is a good thing that these feelings come up so they can be healed. I want them healed as soon as possible because I want my Christmas joy back! Something I learned in counseling is that feelings always have thoughts at their root. I've been listening to the thoughts under the feelings and they sound something like this: "God can do anything, he made sure his Son made it here safely, but surely your children don't rank high enough on his priority list." "There is something innately wrong with you. You're not woman enough to carry healthy babies. Other women have babies without giving it a second thought." "Life is all down hill from here. There is more grief to come. Give up and join the ranks of people who dread Christmas because of the pain it brings."

Do these sound familiar? Maybe you haven't experienced exactly what I have, but I'll bet you recognize that voice. It is the enemy of our souls and he carried his charade a bit too far with that last one. I know my God is a God of hope. Anyone who tells His children to give up is a liar. Christmas is God humbling Himself to walk on in our shoes. He didn’t simply appear as a 33 year old and die for us, he lived for us! He lived a full life of love with no other purpose than to reconcile us to Himself. He experienced all of the feelings known to man including grief. “He was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain” (Isaiah 52:3 KJV). When I look at Christmas through this lens, the lens of God’s love for us, I start to cautiously wonder if this Christmas might be the best yet.

One of the biggest triggers for pain this Christmas is the fact that I was expecting to have a new baby by then. It has made me wonder, “Will I have one next Christmas?” I am trying not to go there. It will just set me up for disappointment because even if I am blessed with another baby next Christmas ANYTHING that sets itself up above the true joy of Christmas will leave me feeling empty. Whether or not I have a baby next year, I know I will still have a God who keeps His promises who has not forgotten His plans for me.

Yesterday, as Meredith and I listened to Christmas music while making ornaments, I thought about Advent. I put myself into the shoes of the Old Testament Israelites who were waiting for the coming Messiah for hundreds of years. Even the faithful must have had doubts deep down as they waited for faith to become sight. What was it like for Simeon to hold the baby Jesus? It stirs my heart to think about it. Especially when I think that my eyes too have “seen the salvation prepared in the sight of all people.” Since God sent His son at the exact time of His choosing, He will also come again just like He promised. He will make all things new. There will be no more death or separation or grief. Just joy.

The clouds are lifting

I feel much better today! Thank you to everyone who prayed for me. I realized I needed to take a day devoted to resting and grieving. So yesterday while Meredith was at school I read the Bible, prayed, read books about grief, spent time on the Hannah's Prayer forum and added a playlist to my blog (scroll to the bottom to hear it). I spent a lot of time just thinking about my babies and letting the tears flow freely. The time went by quickly, but when it was time to pick Meredith up, I felt like I could function again. I wasn't out of the woods yet, but I took each task one at a time and by the end of the day I had cooked dinner, washed a load of laundry, gave Meredith a bath, played tea party and Chutes and Ladders and read her a book. It may not sound like much to some moms, but from the way I was feeling it was nothing short of a miracle. Today I had more joy and I'm even starting to look forward to the holidays! I will have more hard times ahead, but I made it through this one and I'm so grateful. I'm grateful to God who never forsakes me, Jeremy for being the best husband ever and friends and strangers who lift me up in prayer.

The Holidays

My first due date is coming up next month. I don't feel ready yet. I was planning on bringing my newborn to the Christmas Eve service. Now, everywhere I look people are gearing up for Christmas. Thanksgiving is next week. We will put up our tree and decorations like we do every year. We will put our jammies on, listen to Christmas and make snickerdoodles and hot apple cider, but this year I know it will be bitter sweet. I would put it off a few months if I could.

We are celebrating the birth of a baby. This one happens to be my Savior, but nevertheless we will sing songs about Mary rocking her baby and singing Him lullabies. I know that Christmas is God coming in the flesh so He could die to take away my sins and reunite me with my babies. Even this fails to comfort me now. Early thoughts of my little one were tied together with Christmas. I imagined him or her born sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas. I imagined myself waddling around on Thanksgiving wondering when the big day would come. By this time of year we would know the gender and have a name picked out. I dreaded this time soon after the miscarriage. When I found out I was pregnant again, I thought it would be much easier to go through this due date with another one to look forward too.

I don't feel like writing anything pretty or spiritual today. I am wishing things were different. I wish there were something I could do to change reality. I wish I could wake up and find out it was all a nightmare. I'll just leave it at that today. I will be fine, but I could use your prayers. It's hard to see the big picture because my grief is so great. I will trust my God because He is faithful even when I am faithless.

Names

When I was grieving my first loss, it really bothered me that I didn't have a name for my baby. At first I was going to name my baby Isaac for two reasons: 1. God revealed to me when I would get pregnant and I didn't believe Him (more about that another day). 2. I had to give the baby back. It's a meaningful name to me, but I couldn't get past the fact that my baby might be a girl.

I knew that the name was for me and not my baby, but I still wanted to get it right. So I started searching for gender neutral names with good meanings. I found some Hawaiian names with beautiful meanings like "held in the arms of heaven", but I couldn't think of my child as Hi'ilanni (HEE ee LA nee). I started getting discouraged because names I liked had lame meanings and names with good meanings were unacceptable. I searched for every meaning I could think of in baby name search engines and then I went on to online lexicons (a listing of every word in the Bible and its meaning). I ran into the same problem -most of the words were not very pleasing to the ear.

I prayed for guidance. I told God how important it was to me to have a name. I told Him I wanted to call my baby something other than "the baby". I wanted to think of my baby as a unique person with an immortal soul. I needed a name to reflect all this. Half way through writing this post, I took a break to listen to Beth Moore's weekly broadcast. She had this to say upon learning the name of her unborn granddaughter: "There's something about a name. Instantly, the baby has an identity. Instantly, it's no longer a pregnancy nor even just a baby, it's a person!...You don't really give your heart away to something until you know its name." It was nice to hear some reassurance that I'm not the only one who feels this way, although I have to disagree on that last part; I had already given my heart away.

I searched a few more words before I thought of "peace". I already knew "shalom" was a word for peace, but I was drawn to the adjective form of the word, "shalem". The meaning blew me away! It was everything I wanted for my baby; everything I knew to be true! Shalem means "complete, safe, unharmed, peaceful, perfect, whole, full, at peace with God". I knew this was my child's name. Shalem. It's not something I would name my baby had he/she been born. It wouldn't fit if the baby had lived, but now it fit perfectly. "Complete, perfect, whole, full" - no more images of my baby's unformed body left unfinished. No, there is nothing wrong with my baby. Not anymore. "Safe" quieted my need to protect. Nothing can threaten my baby ever again. "Unharmed" released my guilt that I may have done something to hurt my baby. "Peaceful, at peace with God", means I can have peace too.

I don't have a name for my third child yet. I looked, but nothing fits yet. I know he or she is "shalem" as well. I hope to find a name that reflects my baby's role in my life and his or her status as a dearly loved child. I think God will give me a name at the right time, but first I need to get to know my baby a little better. You might wonder how I can get to know a baby after it's gone, or maybe you can relate perfectly. I have to search out what this baby means to me and reflect on all I imagined and hoped for. I need to recognize all the ways I am forever changed. No matter what name I choose, I know both my babies have names already. Jesus tells us in Revelation about those who overcome, "I will also give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it."-Revelation 2:17.

Triggers

I haven't posted in awhile because I didn't really know what to write about. I felt out of touch with my feelings and sort of numb lately. I have been functioning pretty well. I get things done despite the fact that I sometimes don't know what day it is. By grace I've been keeping the bills paid and important things like that. It isn't that I didn't want to face my pain, it's that I couldn't find it. I wrote in my journal last Thursday, "I am not missing my baby or wishing things were different. I'm not lonely or despairing. I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I'm not feeling much of anything." Pain comes out for a little while and then becomes a distant memory or an undercurrent of sadness and I am reminded it will be time to pay the piper soon. You might be wondering if you read this already, but this is how it's been for me all along with this miscarriage. I expected the crushing weight of loss that colors everything I see like the first time, but for better or worse it's different this time.

I never know what will trigger the pain. I was in Wal-Mart a few days ago and we passed through the baby aisle. I looked at the onesies and talked about how cute they were and it didn't phase me. I felt pretty proud of myself for being able withstand a trip through the baby aisle. But then I saw the diaper bags and had to look away. Why were the onesies innocuous, but the diaper bags too much? I have no idea! Another thing that bothers me is the little decisions I make about what to put in my body. It is a split second thought process in which I think, "Is this safe for pregnancy? Oh yeah, I forgot that doesn't matter anymore." I used to pray for God to bless my food for the nourishment of my baby's body. It hurts a little every time I pray before meals.

I'm actually okay with seeing and holding babies. In fact it's been therapeutic to see that I can enjoy others' children without feeling sorry for myself, but a few days ago another one of my friends posted pictures of her new baby on facebook. This time I felt like I had been blindsided. I didn't instantly feel happy for her. I hate to admit it, but resentment was the first feeling that washed over me. I wondered what was wrong with me. Then I remembered that she announced her pregnancy around the time I found out I was pregnant the first time. My first baby would have been due December 6th.

Holidays are difficult for me. I've never really been affected by holidays before. I lost three of my grandparents over the years and holidays were never a problem. Since my first miscarriage, every holiday has brought me in touch with my pain. So far, I have gone through Father's day, Independence day, my birthday and now Halloween. They're all pretty minor holidays. The best I can figure is they represent time marching on without my babies. Or maybe they bring me back to childhood when I lived for holidays and now the joy they once brought me is weighed down by my new reality. Either way, it takes a lot of energy to get through these days. I hope this isn't always the case.

On Sunday I read the Forward in Christ (our church body's magazine) on the way home. There was a little section titled "A Baby's Life Begins". It brings tears to my eyes to read it over. It lists what happens in a baby's development starting from fertilization. I read through it and figured out when my babies stopped growing. Even at 6 weeks 6 days and 6 weeks 1 day gestation, they both had quite a bit going on. They both had beating hearts and nervous systems and all the blueprints to grow into the unique individuals God created them to be. It hurts when I think that I lost two irreplaceable individuals. I know I will see them again someday and learn what makes them special, but for now I need to grieve their absence.

It's good to be in touch with my pain. I feel relief to let go of the numbness that dominated because I like to feel how I really am. I don't knowingly try to anesthetize my feelings; I like to face them head on so they don't wreak havoc in my life through subconscious choices. I learned the hard way that this is how I want to live and I can do it through Christ. The feelings that come with miscarriage are too powerful to face head on. I believe God knows this and designed us to deal with grief one small piece at a time. He's letting triggers into my life so I can grieve at the right speed for me; sometimes in big ways and sometimes in ways that are barely perceptible. I'm missing my babies now and that's okay. 

Starting to Hurt More

It's getting harder now. I knew it would because I know that grief involves experiencing the full magnitude of the loss a little at a time. I've barely begun that process. I'm starting to remember my anticipation of this baby and how life would change. I'm starting to feel the primal connection I had to this child.

Months into my grief over my first loss I felt empty. My arms almost hurt from the emptiness. I realized that the baby I lost could not be replaced with anyone or anything else including another baby. I was experiencing something that parents have described after having a second child: your heart grows a new place just for that child. I didn't know how I could ever be whole again when the place in my heart reserved for this baby was empty. I needed to be a mommy to my baby and I couldn't. I was made to nurture and protect my children and not being able to feels so unnatural. I had come to a place of hopelessness, but this is where God met me to teach me something new. He's the best parent there is!

Meredith had just started Kindergarten. This was especially difficult for me while grieving my miscarriage because her baby traits were disappearing rapidly. She was growing up so fast and now it would go even faster. I wanted her to be dependent on me a little longer. Of course I know it's in her best interests to become increasingly independent, so I encourage her and praise her efforts to be a big girl. God showed me some parallels to Meredith and the baby I lost. With Meredith, I get to love her and enjoy every stage, but it was always intended that I let her go a little at a time. I hope she'll be an important part of my life for the rest of my life, but my role as her mother is gradually getting smaller to suit her needs. My baby stopped needing me long before I was ready to stop being needed. With Meredith, the withdrawal is very gradual; with my baby it was all too sudden. Just like I hope to enjoy an adult relationship with Meredith someday when I am wanted but no longer needed, I know I will have a fulfilling relationship with both of my babies someday.

A final piece of the puzzle came when God showed me I didn't need to feel anxious or guilty about not being able to nurture and protect my baby because He had taken over that role for me. Words from Selah's "I Will Carry You" spoke to me. The song is about a baby who was not expected to live after birth. (You can read their story in the book I Will Carry You.) I will highlight the verses that spoke to me most during the time I was struggling:

There were photographs I wanted to take

Things I wanted to show you

Sing sweet lullabies

Wipe your teary eyes

Who could love you like this?

People say that I am brave but I'm not
Truth is I`m barely hanging on
But there`s a greater story
Written long before me
Because He loves you like this

So I will carry you
While your heart beats here
Long beyond the empty cradle
Through the coming years
I will carry you
All my life
And I will praise the one who`s chosen me
To carry you

Such a short time
Such a long road
All this madness
But I know
That the silence
Has brought me to His voice
And He says:

I`ve shown her photographs of time beginning
Walked her through the parted seas
Angel lullabies 
No more teary eyes
Who could love her like this?

I will carry you
While your heart beats here
Long beyond the empty cradle
Through the coming years
I will carry you
All your life
And I will praise the one who`s chosen me
To carry you

I know my third child is in the best hands too. Having that conviction from my first loss has made this one easier so far. Knowing all this helps most of the time, but sometimes I still feel empty. My parenting instincts are still there and they haven't gotten the message to stand down. It still feels like a nightmare whenever reality hits that I won't see my baby in this life. I mourn for all the stages I will miss. I grieve because I won't even know my baby's gender in this life, much less everything that makes him/her unique. But I get to visit my pain and then leave it behind again because I do not grieve like those who have no hope. I know my story has a happy ending.

My Big Girl

I want to take a break from writing about myself and tell you about my daughter Meredith. If you know her, you might be wondering how she's adjusting to the news. I think she's doing about as well as any five year old could with this information. We didn't tell her about the pregnancy until five days before I found out about the miscarriage. For some reason it felt like the right time to tell her. We were so excited and we wanted to share it with her and we didn't think there was any reason to keep it from her after we heard the heartbeat.

She was more cautious about getting excited this time, but she eventually warmed up to the idea and started fretting about sharing her toys and whether or not she would get enough attention. One day she said "I hope this one gets to be born and doesn't go to heaven first." I told her I really hoped so too. I told her I thought this one will probably be fine and that we were praying every day. I also talked about how Jesus loves us and always does the right thing for everyone and if this baby does go to heaven, He will help us heal. She didn't like hearing that. She wanted to hear that the baby would definitely be born healthy. That's when I wished we hadn't told her. I started to pray more earnestly that the baby would be okay for her sake. I rested in knowing that God works all things for good, even potential parenting mistakes.

On Friday when we found out we had lost the baby, Meredith was the first thought that came to mind. I prayed, "LORD, give her wisdom beyond her years to make sense of this." Jeremy and I decided to tell her right away in the car and then take her out for ice cream. We wanted her to feel reassured that we were going to be supportive of each other and there are better days to come. She spotted the cooler with her non-dairy "ice cream" right away which put her in a good mood. I savored the last few moments before I had to break the news. We told her we had an ultrasound which told us the baby is in heaven already. She got a far off look in her eyes. I asked if she had any questions or wanted to talk about it. She shifted her attention back to the toy puppies she was playing with, so we played with puppies and read Doctor Seuss on the way to get ice cream.

When we got home, Meredith got out her two baby dolls which she rarely plays with. She fed, changed and rocked her babies. The rest of the night she was just a little extra hyper and silly. I knew her confusion was coming out as nervous energy. At bedtime Meredith asked if I would rest with her for awhile. I love snuggling with her at bedtime. We talk about whatever is on her mind. She tells me funny things that happened through the day or things she learned in school. Sometimes she has serious questions about life. That night, I asked if she wanted to talk about anything. She cried into my shirt, "At first I was happy we were going to get ice cream, but now I'm sad that the baby died and I didn't get very much juice today." (She tends to lump negative experiences together). I told her I was sad too. I told her it is normal to be sad when something sad happens and crying helps to get the sadness out. She cried a little longer and then said something that caught me off guard. "I think the next baby will go to heaven before it's born too." I wondered the same thing, but I wasn't ready to think about it. I reminded her that she was born healthy and I told her about some other women I knew who had healthy babies after miscarriages. She cried again and I asked her what was wrong. She said "Now I'm sad that the other mommies lost their babies too". This was not going as well as I'd hoped. I was trying to encourage her and I ended up burdening her tender heart even more. I paused to pray and shifted gears a little. I talked to her about empathy. I explained how Jesus feels our pain just like she is feeling others' pain. I reminded her that the other babies are in heaven too and Jesus is healing their mommies. This helped her feel better. I told her I believed that some day she will have a brother or sister either from my body or through adoption, I just didn't know when or how. Next she tried to figure out how this baby died. She said "Maybe the baby was too old and it was time to go to heaven or maybe its heart just stopped beating." I told her I didn't know. She said "I think only the doctors know". I told her they didn't know either. She said, "I wish the doctors knew what happened so they could tell us what will happen next." "Me too!" Then she said, "I wish the babies could have seen me and not just heard me. They only saw the inside of your body." I knew God was setting me up. I could feel it. I said, "That's true. That's all they got to see in this life. But you can't even imagine what they are seeing now!" The mood shifted in the room as we let our imaginations run wild with everything we thought they are seeing in heaven. I started by telling Meredith the things the Bible tells us about. That heaven is like a golden city with mansions and beautiful gem stones everywhere. She thought of all the things that would be made of gold, like golden cars, the kind with gold paint, not real gold because they would be too heavy (She discussed this with Daddy earlier). We talked about the beautiful landscapes and sunsets and all the animals that let you pet and ride them. I told her that the best thing about heaven is that we get to be with Jesus and talk to him just like we were talking. She said, "When I get to talk to Jesus like we're talking now, I'm going to tell Him that I'm sad the babies went to heaven before they were born." I told her that He would give her a big hug, tell her He knows and wipe away all her tears. And when she gets to heaven she will know why they went to heaven and she'll be with them. By this time we had been talking for about an hour and Jeremy came in because he thought I fell asleep. I told him we were talking about heaven and he joined in imagining with us. Meredith and I talked a few more minutes and then I said, "Sad things like this remind us that heaven is our home. There is no sadness there. We're just here for a time to enjoy God's blessings and tell people about Jesus." She thought a moment and responded, "So heaven is our home and we're just living here now?" She had it. I knew she was feeling better and so was I. She snuggled in for sleep and I kissed her "good night."

I thanked God for His reassuring presence with us. He showed me that He is perfectly capable of guiding Meredith through this messed up world we live in. I felt angry and incompetent to help her navigate these big issues at such a young age, but God reminded me that He has His hand on her and I'm so thankful for that. When I first struggled with my insecurities as a parent, I stumbled upon Isaiah 40:11: "He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young." This passage takes on new meaning for me as my role as a mother continues to be redefined. He understands a mother's heart. He knows the pain of letting go. He knows about loving in best interests even when it hurts. I need His gentle leading now more than ever.

Change

I can feel the joy of the LORD most acutely when I am faced with extreme emotional pain. Maybe you've experienced the same thing. These are the times that remind me that Jesus is the desire of my heart and He can never be taken from me. I felt that right away and through the past week and a half, but as my grief has been clamoring for my attention, Satan has used it as an opportunity to plant doubts about God's ability and willingness to let me keep the joy of His presence as I prepare to feel pain again. My first loss is so fresh in my mind that I don't want to go there again. Yesterday I confessed to God that I have been trying to take it upon myself to avoid "going there" my own way. I reasoned that I could avoid falling into a pit of despair and anger if I could maintain enough control of my environment. I decided to take the good feelings I had from the grace I've been given and pour all that energy into becoming the kind of wife and mother and practitioner I always wanted to be. Messages of inadequacy have haunted me for years. I must have figured that I could silence the self condemnation by becoming my ideal and then my grief would be more manageable. Makes perfect sense right?

That would have been a hard fall, but the Holy Spirit gave me a heart check yesterday. I noticed I was short with my family and feeling overwhelmed with little things. I also hadn't spent much time in the Word lately because seeking God would expose my plan to become self sufficient. After Meredith went to bed I told God all about my fears. I acknowledged my sin and that I wanted a change. I didn't want to relive all the grief from my first miscarriage and I didn't want to lose the lessons I've learned about God's trustworthiness as I face my doubts. My reading last night was from Ezekiel's vision of ideal temple worship. Part of it spoke to me: " 'When the people of the land come before the LORD at the appointed feasts, whoever enters by the north gate to worship is to go out the south gate; and whoever enters by the south gate is to go out the north gate. No one is to return through the gate by which he entered, but each is to go out the opposite gate.' " (Ezekiel 46:9 emphasis mine) My study Bible says that this is for crowd control, but I'm not so sure. In any case, I thought it was a good analogy for my situation. I don't want to go out the way I came in. This passage reminded me that God doesn't want that for me either. He's the one working on my heart. He's the one with the plans to turn pain into blessings. I can't help but be changed from spending time in His presence. He changed me as He has been healing me from my first miscarriage. All that time spent with Him in brokenness proved to me that His power is made perfect in my weakness. When I would drop the ball on something, He proved that His grace is enough by either sparing me from the consequences I was expecting or turning it into a greater blessing. 

I get to commend myself into His capable hands and be broken again. My concern about losing ground has kept me from this, but I don't need to worry about going backwards. I need to let go of my need to control things again, but that's okay. I forgot there is no better way to live than to commend myself into God's hands. It's where I have found healing and rest before and where I'll find it again. I just needed to get it straight in my mind that brokenness isn't backwards, it's how I am being transformed.

quick update

I just wanted to check in. I wish I could post more and I hope to in the near future, but daily things take more energy lately. Today was a good day. I feel surprisingly normal. My grief is there, but not unmanagable. I volunteered at Meredith's school this morning and actually had the energy to get some things checked off my to do list at home. I don't know why I feel so good today, but I'll take it. The only explaination I can come up with is grace. I feel lifted up in your prayers. I want to thank each of you who have been praying for me and encouraging me. It means so much!

I do have another specific prayer request. I am starting to have physical signs that the miscarriage is coming soon. I ask that you pray for my physical safety.

Thanks again for your support. Blessings on your week.

Here I go again

The numbness is wearing off. I am starting to remember the terrain of grief from last time. It was like going mountain climbing blindfolded; I never knew what was coming next. Last time I went through deep valleys followed by greater acceptance and even joy. Each low was paired with an equal but opposite peak. Each time I would think "I'm almost done." I finally decided to stop trying to predict what was coming next.

This time is starting out a little different. At first I told myself "I know how to do this. This will be easy." My defenses are up, but they are starting to crumble. I came to church late today and snuck out early because I am not ready to hug and cry with my friends. The dam would break and that's just too much too soon.

Eventually I will have to come face to face with my pain. I will painstakingly uncover all the facets of my loss and bring to light all of my accusations against God's character. I know a little about what's coming. I know there are great blessings waiting for me on the other side and along the way, but I'm fighting it. Grief involves letting go of control. Something happens out of your control that you never would have chosen and the only choice you're left with is how you will respond. I have to admit that right now I'm leaning toward wallowing in resentment. That feels like the most natural thing to do. But I'll choose to trust that God really does work all things for my good. Eventually this will feel right. When I've poured out my anger to the One who can take it and find that He's still there, I will have made it through my first valley. Here I go again. 

Another Loss (first post)

I've decided to start this blog as a way to chronicle my grief and healing from pregnancy loss. Maybe someone can find comfort in what I write. If nothing else, they say it's helpful to put thoughts into words through journaling. I had my first miscarriage in May at nine and a half weeks. Yesterday my OB told me I was going to have another one.

Last Tuesday, I got up the nerve to obtain a copy of my ultrasound report from my first miscarriage. I had unanswered questions and I needed some confirmation that this pregnancy was going to be different. It don't know what I was expecting to see, but I learned that the baby measured six weeks and six days; exactly how far along I was that day. Whatever peace I had before was gone and I went into panic mode. I called the Birth Center because I hadn't heard back from the day before about scheduling an ultrasound. When the receptionist grilled me about why I needed an ultrasound so early, I lost it. I couldn't get the words out. She immediately put me on with the midwife who set me up for an ultrasound the next day. That night I dreamed of worst case scenarios, but actually woke up feeling positive. This ultrasound was a big deal because the last time I had one it was eerily silent. I had trouble imagining a good outcome. I wrestled with God in prayer until I felt the peace of His presence. I prayed specifically for a skilled and sensitive tech and that we would hear a heartbeat. Our tech was very nice and I could tell she knew what she was doing. When she told us the baby was measuring at six weeks and one day (I was seven weeks), I prepared for the worst. But then I heard it: boom, boom, boom, boom. 120 bpm! I breathed a deep sigh of relief.

The next week and a half were more peaceful than the first few weeks. I had learned to silence most of Satan's invitations to fear. I learned that I need to seek to trust God. Period. Not trust God to..., but trust Him because He is faithful to me. My flesh would protest, "But last time He took my baby from me." I would have to remember that only He knows why that is. I know He cried with me and had in mind how He would comfort me. I won't know why either of my babies were taken from me until I get to meet them, but if my trust in God is based on circumstances, I'm in trouble.

Yesterday morning I went to my OB appointment. I had decided to keep this appointment that I had made before deciding on the Birth Center because I wanted a follow up ultrasound to see if the baby was growing normally. I had read that ultrasounds can be up to 7 days off in date measurements, but I still wanted to make sure everything was okay. About 10 seconds into the ultrasound the doctor said, "Still measuring 6 weeks." Just like that it was time to shift gears from hoping to grieving. I tried to listen to what the doctor was saying, but it was hard to concentrate. I didn't want to have this conversation again.

After the appointment we went through a range of emotions together. I'm sure I will be attempting to untangle these in the coming weeks and months, but I think I've written enough for now. We are already feeling God's comforting presence and the hope of better days to come. "Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning." (Psalm 30:5) I've been down this road before; I know it can be bumpy and unpredictable. I ask for your prayers for our family's healing. I know your prayers will be answered; I am eager to see how. Thanks for reading.