Grieving for a friend

"Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep."
Romans 12:15

Tonight, I am weeping with and for a very good friend who lost one of her twin daughters earlier today.

Please, uplift Leanne in prayer. You can visit her blog here and let her know you are doing just that. She needs support tonight; she will need support and prayer throughout the rest of her pregnancy; and she will continue to need support in the months ahead and she mourns the loss of her daughter.

Oh, come quickly Lord Jesus....and reunite us with all of our babies who have gone before we wanted them to....

Remembering

Go ahead and mention my child,
The one that died, you know.
Don't worry about hurting me further.
The depth of my pain doesn't show.
Don't worry about making me cry.
I'm already crying inside.
Help me to heal by releasing
The tears that I try to hide.
I'm hurt when you just keep silent,
Pretending she didn't exist.
I'd rather you mention my child,
Knowing that she has been missed.
You asked me how I was doing.
I say "pretty good" or "fine".
But healing is something ongoing
I feel it will take a lifetime.
~ Elizabeth Dent ~

Remembering Baby Merritt

12.12.07

 {In Heaven...and always in my heart }

Today is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.

For Lilliana; my two nieces/nephews; Major;  Noah; Asher and Isaac; Annabelle; Maddox; Audrey; Leah; Levi; Janie and her siblings; Tristan and Elliot and Copeland and Poppy Joy and Mary Grace and Jacob Ryan; Tabitha; Hope and Love; Joy and Faith Eliza; Mazie Olivia; Daniel Joseph; Isabella Leigh....for my sweet baby--who I still miss today more than words can express--and the many, many other babies who have gone to Heaven before we wanted them to, I hope you'll have a listen to this powerful song, which reflects the attitude of my own heart so very well:

(You can also view the video of the family that inspired this song--Todd (of Selah) and Angie Smith, and their little girl, Audrey, who lived for four hours after she was born--here.)

‎"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted. He rescues those who are crushed in spirit."
Psalm 34:18

Remembering

It was two years ago today that my perspective on life changed forever.

Today, I want to remember our sweet Baby Merritt. The baby that waits for me in Heaven.

Back in December of 2007, as I searched the internet for other Mommies who faced similar circumstances (partly as a coping mechanism, I realize now) I found another blogger named Kathy. She, too, had lost a child, and I found comfort in reading things that she had written about her loss and her baby.

She is an amazing composer and musician, and she wrote this piano arrangement for all the babies that had been lost that year. I thought then, and still think now, that this song is so wonderful and so beautifully written--and I wanted to share it with everyone today.

As much as I loved my child that I will never meet this side of eternity--I am reminded that Jesus loves my child--and me--infinitely more than I could ever imagine.

For my baby, and all the other babies who wait for their Mommies and families in Heaven....we love you and miss you. So much. We will never forget....

Monday Musings

I....

~had a great visit with family the last five days! Hope everyone else had a wonderful Thanksgiving as well. I have so much to be thankful for!!

~am so behind on email. Ack. We have been so busy!

~spent the day on a cleaning rampage again. But my house looks goooooooooood.

~am spending the rest of my night with my back on a heating pad because of it. *back.hurts*

~am excited about snuggling into my new (Target Black Friday deal!) flannel sheets. A whole complete set for $14...can't beat it!

~did not, mind you, brave the stores on Black Friday in the wee hours. I went much later than the crazies, but earlier than the lazies, and managed to score a couple of good deals! There is nothing, nothing on this earth I need a deal on badly enough to fight those crowds. *shudder*

~put our (well, one of our) Christmas tree(s) up last night! I was so excited--this is our big tree, the kind that has like, 814 different, color-coded branches and takes forever to put together and shape--but the boys helped (Colin read which color was next, Cameron found that color and, with Ethan's help, brought those particular branches to me and Shane, who assembled and shaped) and we had that sucker together, lit, beaded, bowed, and ornamented in about an hour and a half! I was so excited about putting it up, but so dreading the process. It turned out to be a great, successful family activity. It. Is. Beautiful. Yay!

~shall do the other one tomorrow night with the boys. Here's hoping it is just as successful.

~had a good cry over Baby Merritt's Christmas tree ornament from 2007. Now that that's out of me, I will be able to look at it for the rest of the season and smile, knowing exactly where my baby is and Who s/he is spending this Christmas with.

~really, really, really, really, reeeeeaaaaalllllly want this. In fact, I think this just may classify as a need. Seriously. I mean, it would prevent a lot of unnecessary conversations with complete strangers. Anyone with me?

~have another SONO on Wednesday! Woot! Can't wait to see my Peanut...and I can't believe I'm 32+ weeks! (If you think of us, say a prayer that all is still well...still can't help but be *just a mite* nervous.)

Happy Monday, everyone!

Peanut's first appointment

I've said it before, and I'll probably say it again: Life looks very different after miscarriage.

You can enter any trauma--infant death, loss of an adult child, loss of a parent, a house burning down, a car accident--it doesn't matter what the event is. The point is how different life looks after you go through it.

Today was my first doctor's appointment for my little peanut. I was excited and scared to death. All at the same time.

I dropped my boys off at a friends house (and, may I just take this opportunity to thank the Lord for amazing friends!) and headed about 35 minutes away to my doctor. I was doing fine.

Until I entered the parking garage. Then, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

I was instantly sick to my stomach. All I could think about was the what-ifs. The negatives. The 'something is not right here' scenarios.

I checked in and was called back right away. After drinking the glucose drink and answering 984 questions among 17 sheets of paperwork, I was ready for the nurse to do the heart rate check.

I laid back, and my heart started pounding.

The nurse poked and prodded with the Doppler, and....nothing.

"I don't really do this very much," she said. "Let me go get one of the nurses who has more experience, and have her come in and find it. Don't worry." she said. She knew my situation, and could see the slight panic on my face.

So, after a few moments, nurse number two comes in, and the same scenario ensued. Prodding, nudging....they were getting a heart beat here and there, but both nurses said it was too low to be the baby's--that it was probably mine they were picking up.

That's about when the tears came.

I'm 14 1/2 weeks. They should be picking up a heartbeat with no problem by this point. Oh, I can't believe this. All of this is happening again....and I was so sure this time. So sure everything was going alright. Wait.....what am I talking about? I wasn't sure. That's why I was sick in the car before I came in, for heaven's sake! And now, here I am, alone, and gonna have to go through all this all over again....

The nurses told me again not to worry. "I'm going to go get Dr. S." the nurse said.

So, they left, and I waited. I texted Shane to let him know what was going on, and he was as incredulous as I was. He comforted me as best he could, and told me he was praying.

I just stopped my entire thought process right there and began to pray. I started to think over a verse that my friend had texted me before going in the office. I knew that I could give all my cares over to Jesus, because he cared so much for me. And I did. I was still nervous, still upset, but I knew, either way, that everything was going to be okay--one way or the other.

A bit later (wow, those 'few minute' waits can seems like hours!) my doctor came in with the portable sono machine. He took one look at me, grabbed my hand, and then started in. Immediately, he said, "Girl...this baby is fine! Look at him! Wiggling all around like a mad fool in there!"

I could certainly see the wiggling, but it still seemed to me that the baby could be wiggling from all the prodding on my belly. I was still uncertain.

"So, where is the flicker? I don't see a heart beating on there--does anyone else see it?"

I never did see the heart beating on screen, but my doctor assured me that he saw it, as well as the nurse. I don't know why, but even after their assurance, I still had doubt.

Being removed from the situation, I now know what that was that was causing my doubt. That was the devil, doing his best to keep that fear instilled in me. It worked for awhile, that's for sure.

I waited around for a while, because I had some labs to be done, and then I had to meet with my Nurse Practitioner for some basic stuff. At the end of the appointment, she asked, "Do you want to hear the heartbeat one more time?"

Oh, how I did.

She went and got the Doppler. It took her a while to find it too--seems like this is just a squirmy little kid! But, find it she did, and we listened for over a minute and a half to a very strong, 138 beats per minute heartbeat.

Aaaaaaaaahh.

There is nothing like that sound.

I am rejoicing today that all seems well--and that I got to both hear and see my little peanut. (Side note here: I saw a perfectly round head, the whole spine, and even the little nubs *grin* of arms and legs forming! What. A. Miracle. There are just no other words.)

Many women come and go during their prenatal appointments with no thoughts of anything negative. For three pregnancies, I was that woman. But, things have changed--for me, and for so many others who have endured tragedies. Life looks very different after a miscarriage. This, in some strange way, is now my 'new' normal.

I know there will be an element of me that will be like this every appointment. An element that fears the unknown, fears what 'could be'. But, I also know that that fear is not from God, and I am praying that He is able to take that from me and give me peace.

All in all....it was a great day.

Bleh

I'm in a funk.

I know it....now you know it, too. If, you know, you hadn't already suspected that something was up due to my lack of blogging.

I knew it would happen. It's almost as if I've been waiting on it.

It usually hits me on the ride home from my in-laws house after Thanksgiving. We always have such a wonderful time, and it always goes too quickly. Before you know it, the mini-vacation is over and done, and we are in the car headed back home--a home that is over two hours from our nearest relatives, and almost 10 hours from the others.

I get all teary, and cry for a while about the family that I won't see again for another whole year. My niece and nephew especially, who will be so much older and may not even remember me next time they see me.

It is reminiscent of my younger days, when I was a teenager, and I would get on a plane and leave my Dad and family in New Jersey after a summer visit to come back home to my Mom in Illinois, and knowing that when I saw my brother and sister again, they would be so much different, in so many ways.

Knowing you are losing precious time with people you love.....it's hard.

This year, it's all that.....and more.

This year, when we put the tree up and got all the ornaments out, there wasn't a new first ornament for the tree like there was supposed to have been.

This year, the family ornament that I will buy will only have five people represented, and not six like I thought there was going to be.

This year, when all of our family got together at Thanksgiving, there were only two new babies, instead of the three new ones we all thought there would be last year at this time.

The roller coaster of emotions of hitting this one year mark.....it's just hard for me.

I've been expecting this to hit me, and I've been trying to semi-prepare myself for it, but it didn't really work. I can hide it pretty well, and did so in front of everyone last week (for the most part, anyway). But I just sort of feel like an emotional wreck. I cry for no reason.....one minute I can be okay, the next minute I am dissolved into the 'ugly' cry, and then the very next minute I can be okay again. I just have those moments.

And, by the way, it's not just the 'baby' thing. There are other things, too, that I'm dealing with right now. I am sort-of in the middle of this wrestling match with God. How dumb is that, right? I know HE wins, every time, but my three-year-old mindset still likes to throw the occasional temper tantrum every once in a blue moon. Someday, I hope to move past that.....

No, the baby is not the only thing....but it ranks right up there at the top of the list as the toughest to deal with.

The most wonderful thing I got after we lost our baby last year was this miniature tricycle. My mom gave it to me, instead of flowers--so we would always have something visual to remind us of the baby. It has winter foliage (like pine branches) on it, that are flocked with fake snow, and red holly berries. It also has miniature lights, that Shane hooked up to a small touch-pad light switch. You can touch it and the trike lights up. It is the most beautiful thing, and ever since I got in on December 14th of last year, it has sat in it's special spot in the bookcases Shane built.

I've never told anyone this, not even Shane (although, he certainly will read it later) and I don't even know why I am saying this now, except that I feel like all this 'letting it out' is making me feel somewhat better. The touch-pad on the trike has four levels, and you can adjust how bright you want the lights to shine. It's a really neat feature....but I have, for the last almost 365 days, used those lights as something a bit different.

They are my grief gage.

When I am having a good day, I leave the lights off. Alternatively, when I am having a particularly rough day, I keep the lights all the way up. I turn them on, and every time I walk in the living room, they are ablaze in their special spot. I can't put my finger of why, but seeing that makes me feel a bit better. Like there is a part of my baby that is still here with us.

The lights have been full blast since coming home Sunday night.

I don't anticipate turning them off at all until after the holidays.

It all goes back to the losing precious time with the ones you love aspect.

I got 13 weeks with my baby....that was it. I took for granted that there was going to be so much more than that, but there wasn't. I lost so much precious time that I had anticipated having. All the birthdays, all the holidays, all the fun stuff we were going to do together. And then, all of a sudden, our baby was gone, and now I didn't get any more time.

Wham. Gone. Just like that.

On these hard days, I feel that I was robbed of the greatest gift God ever gives us. Robbed of the good times, the bad times, the traditions, the everything. Just robbed.

Even still a year later, that hurts.

I'm not writing this to make you feel sorry for me. Please, don't. Grief is what it is--and it is different things to different people. You may be reading this and thinking, "Sheesh....it's been a year. Isn't she over this already?" or you may be thinking, "I know exactly how she feels". This is just about what my grief is to me right now, and I just needed to let it out.

I know all of the truths. I know that God is the giver of all life, and He can freely do with that life whatever He so chooses. He gives, and He takes away--and His name is to be praised in either case. I believe that and respect the choice He made for me. I know that that 'reality' of having my baby here for all those moments really wasn't MY reality to begin with--it was never meant to be for me.

I can see all of the good that has come out of what happened, and for everything I have learned, I am so grateful. I believe that now, even hurting as I am, I can truly say--knowing that my God only wants the very best for me, and that He will work out everything that happens to me to be for my greater good--that this was the very best thing for me at this time in my life.

But, there are still hard days--some, like today, very, very hard.

Bleh.

What do you say when someone is hurting?

I have reconnected with a lot of friends since starting my blog. I have also been blessed to have met a lot of wonderful new people.

I am particularly thankful for one who has become so much more than a blogger buddy--she has become a true friend, in every sense of the word. The fact that we have never seen each other face to face has never stopped us from having wonderful, open and honest communication about some of the most difficult things we have been through here on this earth. I feel fortunate to know sweet Kenzie, and am blessed by her constantly.

A couple of months ago, she posted this wonderful devotional on her blog, and in light of Jana's, Jill's, and Charity's recent losses, I asked her if she would give me permission to repost it on my blog. I hope you will take the time to read and consider this. If you have ever had someone near and dear to you that has suffered any kind of a loss (and who of us hasn't, really?) then, I believe, this will prove to be helpful in knowing how to help them.....because many times, we just do not know what to say.

Have a blessed weekend everyone.

Original post from Kenzie:

Prayerful Silence

The devotional below has spoken to me on so many different levels and after reading it several times over the last few weeks, I have felt compelled to share it. We all have experienced grief, loss or been through great struggles and suffering. Many of us have also walked with others through tragic losses and been on our knees late into the night covering them in prayer and asking for mercy and grace. And yet often, either as the person in tragedy or the friend standing close by, we simply don't know what to say. Sometimes the voids are filled with awkward looks, sometimes they are filled with words that have no relevance, and other times they are filled with words of truly Biblical promise that just don't feel right once they have entered the conversation. I have received all of them and I have done each of them as well and I think the Biblical insight provided here is something that shouldn't be missed. Words are not always needed to fill the air and as someone who has just been through great loss, simply the presence of others or hearing the words "I don't know what to say..." can serve as great a comfort as any. Undoubtedly there are times to speak and times to remain silent... It's prayerful discernment that will give you the right answer. Ask the Lord to guide you and simply follow His lead to know what is most appropriate.

Silence is Golden

A devotional for the day from Women's Devotional Bible- NIV

There's no "how-to" manual describing what to say or do for someone who has suffered a great loss. A mother loses her child to disease, a wife loses her husband to divorce, a family loses their home to fire. What do you say?

Job was suffering. All of his children, servants, flocks and herds were gone. His health and well-being were decimated. Job's wife bitterly responded, "Curse God and die!" As much as she, too, must have been suffering, Job's wife talked too much and too soon.

When Job's three friends, Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar, came to see him, the Bible tells us that Job had been disfigured by grief. Job's friends wept aloud, tore their robes and threw dust into the air- the ancient mourning rituals for death or tragic loss. For seven days and nights they did not utter a word. They simply sat beside him in silence. "They then sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was."- Job 2:13

Later on, Job's friends tried to explain away his misfortunes and wrongly blamed Job. But at the beginning, they got it right by recognizing that nothing they could say could assuage his grief. Here, they offered him not words, but the comfort of their presence.

When we encounter friends who have suffered great loss, it is easy to drop off a casserole, send a sympathy card or say, "Call me if you need anything." We often rely on pat answers: "God knows best; all things work together for good." Sometimes we speak too much or too soon. Maybe we're fearful in the presence of others' pain, so we babble about meaningless things. Sometimes we're fearful of the roiling emotions lurking below the surface, so we don't even make contact.

Perhaps Job's friends stumbled onto one key to mourning with those who mourn: Have the wisdom to know when to talk and when to stay silent. Solomon said, "There is a time for everything... a time to weep and time to laugh... a time to be silent and a time to speak" (Ecclesiastes 3:1, 4, 7). You can pray for the wisdom to realize when your presence will speak louder than words. Your presence says, "I'm here for your. I love you. I am walking through this valley with you."

The next time you find yourself eye-to-eye with someone in grief, don't worry about what you will say. God will give you words to speak and the wisdom to know when to keep silent.

Reflection Questions:

1. Has there ever been a time when you were grieving or struggling and someones advice or comments were like pouring salt on a wound? How did it affect you?
2. What was the most helpful thing that anyone has ever done for you during a time of loss or great struggle?
3. How can you show support to someone you know who is struggling?

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace."- Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Make moments....at all costs

I've had a hard week.

Circumstances of the last few days, which I will choose not to divulge here but have nothing to do with what you may think, have given me a lot to think about this week. But, those same circumstances which I have tried so desperately to make go away have given me a new outlook on things. They have changed how I view things, how I see people--specifically my own children.

I have felt such deep feelings of love for my boys this week; feelings that are always there, but are usually hiding deep inside, and don't necessarily come to the surface that often. This week, simply just looking at the sweet faces of Cameron, or Ethan, or Colin invites tears to actually spring to my eyes because of the love that is there in my heart for these precious little guys.

Those tears are there now, actually.

Those feelings have made me a better mommy.

I have done things in the past four days that I don't normally do.....and I think my boys and our relationships with each other are that much sweeter because of it.

We've gone outside of our norm.

When I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open, and my words were literally slurring together as I struggled to stay awake, and Cameron asked, "Just one more book Mommy?"

Instead of the normal, "Sorry buddy, it's time for bed", I said, "Okay."

When all I wanted to do after a busy morning of VBS was go home, clean up the absolute wreck we call our home moderately messy house from that morning (because we had rushed out by 8:30 to get to there and had had no time for any of the normal 'morning clean-up') and the boys asked me--2 days in a row--"Please, please could Brooklyn (first day)/Chloe and Wyatt (second day) come home with us to play in the sprinkler? Please?"

Instead of "Sorry, guys, we need to go home, clean up, have lunch and rest time", I said, "Okay, sure!" with a smile on my face. And, I turned on the sprinkler in our already soaking wet, squishy yard for these 5 unbelievably cute children sporting nothing but their undies. The house remained a mess, but the children's laughs were too many to count.

Such simple joys when you are four (or under).

And today, when we passed Old McDonald's (as the boys have always called it) and Colin asked me, "Can we please stop and play there on the slides?"

I groaned....I absolutely hate that germ-infested, just-asking-for-a-virus-when-you-go-there playland...but I turned down the next street, flipped the car around, and we went back. Colin couldn't believe it. He, I think, was absolutely in shock, simply due to the number of times he has been shot down when asking to go to Old McDonalds and play. This time I was actually saying yes? What?!?

"Are we going through just to get something to eat?" he said.

"Noooooooooo....."

"Are we going in to eat?" he said.

"Noooooooooo...."

"Are we going in to play?!?" he said.

"Yeeeeeessssss!"

Insert about 42 squeals/laughs here.

We got out, went in, and the boys played. For a long time. I even climbed a few tunnels with sweet baby Ethan! (Yeah.....it was gross.) We washed hands for like, 3 minutes each....and then used the hand sanitizer *giggle*, and then we actually went to a booth inside the restaraunt.

Colin and Cameron each got a happy meal--their first ever. I mean, every mom knows that you can feed a family a lot cheaper at those places by ordering the extra value meals and splitting them between everyone, right? At least, that's what we always do. One french fry, ginormous-sized, for everyone, with 5 different napkins on which to portion out each share!

But, today was a different day. They got real happy meals, complete with a fun box, their own drink, and their own set of fries.....and a TOY.

"My own bag of fries!" exclaimed Colin, smiling from ear to ear as he pulled them out of the box.

Ah, the world was nearly perfect in the eyes of a child.

We sat, and ate calmly and happily--all four of us. It was a wonderful time with just me and them. I rarely brave these sort of situations without Shane, simply for crowd control reasons. Three against one is by no definition an easy task! It was out of my norm....but, today, I was so glad I did it. It is a memory that is locked in my brain now, in a very special place.

But has this Mommy lost her marbles?

Of course not. I did not write all of this to say or even remotely imply that giving in to a child's every whim and desire is the key to having a happy child or happy parents. In fact, I personally believe the exact opposite. The fact that I have said no to Colin 184 times when he has asked to stop at Old McDonald's and play is the very reason why he was so ecstatic when we did stop today.

I have missed too many memories for the sake of clean laundry. Too many smiles in the name of no dust or clean floors. Too many teachable moments due to my own lack of patience. Too many nighttime or naptime cuddles because there was so much on my own agenda that needed to be completed.

As I type, the house is still a mess (by my standards). I'm sure there is an end in sight....somewhere. But, as EVERY mom knows, just when all of the laundry is all washed, dried, folded, and actually put away, another basketful comes right behind it. Just when the dining room floor is free of all bits of food, another meal is eaten and it's half covered in crumbs all over again. Our jobs as housekeepers--literally the keepers of our homes--is never ending. But it is our jobs as Moms and what we do with and for our children that will be our legacy.

Every Mother's Day, people give testimonies in church about their moms. Many of those moms are gone now....and they cry as they say things like, "She was such a good listener." "She was always there when I needed a friend." "She sacrificed so many things for me." "She always stopped whatever she was doing to help me if I needed it." "I'm so thankful for the quality time I had with my mother." "She taught me about Jesus." Not once have I ever heard a testimony of, "She kept everything so clean.....our house was always spotless.....the laundry was always done." And I don't suspect I ever will.

When your 2-year-old puts his arms around you and says, "You my best friend, Mommy!" it makes the dirt seem much less apparent.

Most days, we do stick to a routine, and it benefits everyone. But going outside the norm is good every once in a while, too. Don't miss those precious moments with your children. We truly don't know how many more God will allow us to have with them.

Today was my due date with #4.

For Jill....and all the other mommies of Glory Babies

It's amazing what happens when tragedy strikes your family.

When I lost our fourth baby back in December, people asked me all the time, "How are you doing?" I would answer with the standard, "Okay" and try to leave it at that. It was just too hard to talk about without becoming emotional. I needed to heal first, before I could talk about my loss.

I have found that tragedy is like anything else in life. When it is new, it is all that consumes you (and, maybe, others as well.) It is all you can think about, and even when you are able to NOT think about it, random things that have nothing to do with your particular circumstance will bring you back to it anyway. But, as time passes, and weeks turn into months since "IT" happened, people stop asking. It's code for, "It's time to move on, now." That is never really said out loud....and only the people who have experienced a loss like what I am talking about really know what I mean. It's the whole, "life goes on" mentality. "You can't dwell on this forever. Pick yourself up, and keep going."

You start to try to heal, and then begin to have some good days. Then, many more good days. Then, the good days begin to outnumber the bad ones....until the bad ones are actually few and far between. Oh, there will always be bad days. But they do decrease over time.

I've been doing really well. God has provided me with great healing, and for that, I am so thankful.

But circumstances of this week have brought strong, painful memories flooding back to me. Pain that I thought had faded away through God's healing. I have realized that, though the pain may been deeply tucked inside, it may never fade away completely. And I think that is how God wants it to be. It is a now one of our distinguishing characteristics. A marker we have, we women who have known this pain....for us to use to be able reach out when this pain turns it's grip on others.

Heaven welcomed two more glory babies in the last 48 hours.....and it has brought me back all over again. It has hit close to home, as one of these mommies was a personal friend of mine. My sadness, while not overtaking me, has returned.

I would have been 31 weeks on Friday. 31 weeks. That is hard to think about. In a few weeks, I would have started going to Dr. Shepherd every week. Then, soon after that, I would be experiencing new life all over again. Bringing a new one home from the hospital again (and realizing all over again just how CRAZY people drive out on the road). The sleepless nights. Nursing. Showing off our precious bundle at church. Toting FOUR children around now, instead of three. Experiencing all of those first.....coos, smiles, teeth, sitting, crawling. Being able to be the protective and nurturing one to my sweet newborn.

All those what ifs.

Here is the thing, though. I can not dwell on those things. I choose not to dwell on those things. The Bible tells us to "think on those things that are TRUE....." For me, and for so many others, the above paragraph is not a true reality. It is one that exists only in my head. Imagining all of the things that I would have done, and what the baby would have been like....that's exactly what it is. Imagination. That is not a reality for me, and for this fourth child of ours, it never will be.

And, I know, for God's glory and my greater good, there is a perfect and holy reason for that. I don't quite understand it, and I don't feel as though I even need too. That is exactly the definition of faith. I am believing and trusting in something that I can not see for myself. Only God knows why our baby is not with us. Why so many others--Maddox, Miller Grace, Tristan, Copeland, Madeline Grace, Audrey Caroline, Tabitha Grace, Joshua, Poppy Joy, Eva Janette, Noah, Mary Grace, Eliot, Jonathan, Asher, and so many more babies that were lost in utero--the list goes on and on--have babies that are sitting at the feet of Jesus today instead of being in our care.

One thing I feel the need to say here: I am not sure exactly who reads this blog of mine. But, just in case, if you are sitting here reading my words today, and you do not know this same Jesus that I know, let me strive to make one thing very clear. My God is not something that I (or anyone else for that matter) have created as sort of a 'coping mechanism'. Well, if I only could believe that my baby is in a better place.....I would be able to handle all of this. So, I will choose to believe that he is in heaven now. That makes me feel better.

God is REAL. He is alive, in heaven, ruling over this earth. He is coming back, someday that I believe will be soon. He loves me, He loves you. He cares about every single thing that happens to me, no matter how small. He does not cause evil, but He does allow it--again, for His glory and our ultimately greater good.

And He loves my sweet little glory baby so much more than I ever could.

God has taught me so very much through all of this. Not only through my loss, but others' losses as well. I am a better prayer warrior now. When I see a family suffering, and I say, "I will pray for you....", I mean it. I add them to my prayer list. I pray for them. Sure, I miss a day here and there. I am certainly not perfect; far from it, in fact. But these families that are on my prayer list, both on my blog and at home, they mean something to me. I want to help them, and the best way I know how is by diligently praying for each of them. I am a better servant now. When I see someone who has a need, I am brought back to when I had a need. How many people reached out to me (or did not--both equally taught me something) when I needed it? How did they reach out to me? What can I, can any of us, do to help those who are grieving a loss, or going thru any other sort of life difficulty or tragedy?

Jill, it is going to take time. Don't let anyone tell you different. Jesus sees each tear, and he counts them....even the ones that never come from your eyes, but are there inside of your heart. This is going to hurt. It is actually surprising just how much it hurts. But God will heal your heart. He always does, if you allow Him too. And, I am confident that you will.

Our babies are playing together at Jesus' feet right at this moment. What an amazing thought. Love you Jill, and I am praying for you.

~Glory Baby, by Watermark~
An amazing, touching song that speaks wonderful truths!
(the music will not start automatically--
please click on launch standalone player to hear)

a Virtual Blessing

Living in a virtual world is a really amazing thing.

This blogging thing has led me to all kinds of places and people. I have been able to catch up with high school and college friends, and keep up on the day-to-day happenings of far away family members. It has been great!

Do you ever blog-jump? You know, go on a blog of someone you know, and then just start clicking on their links to see where it takes you?

Well, I have.

And, hence, the reason for this post.

A couple of weeks ago, I was on my sister-in-law Karie's blog. From there, I clicked on to one of her friends, which I knew was a girl from Maranatha--the college that I went to (along with Karie). I thought, maybe her blog would lead me to some other people from MBBC as well. It didn't; however, just that day, Karie's friend had posted something about praying for a family that she knew that was going through a really difficult time. They had just lost their baby daughter, who was only 8 days old.

I was intrigued. I had to click that link. I wanted to see what had happened to this baby.

That was when my eyes were opened to something (and some people) that have blessed me beyond words.

I clicked on this link, and it led me to a 27-year-old mother of two named Boothe Farley. She had literally just days before lost her 2nd daughter to a disease I had never heard of: Trisomy-18.

I read, and read, and read. And the tears flowed heavily as I did.

I went back many months of posts, and read about her finding out about her pregnancy, and all the emotions that went along with that as she and her husband had had difficulty conceiving. I read about her going in for a routine sono, like so many pregnant women do, and finding out that her baby was different....her baby was sick. Her new daughter was going to be born with one extra chromosome, and it was going to make her body not be able to function properly. And, then, of course, I read about all of the emotions that came with that diagnosis. I read about the months of anticipation, of her waiting for the "birth day" (many of these children do not make it to that day). I read about baby Copeland making it through the birth, and about the eight days that they were so grateful to have had with her. I saw pictures and video of her and the family. I read about the funeral. And now, I continue to read, as she continues to blog about life after her loss and where to go from here with the new reality she and her family have been given.

Her blog has, in turn, led me to several other Christian families that are also coping with this disease. Some have already lost their children. Poppy Joy lived 3 hours; Copeland lived 8 days; Madeline lived about 12 hours. Some have children who are currently, miraculously, living with this disease (the oldest child I have seen was 99 days old.) Tristan has made 31 days today. And some--the ones who have impacted me the most--who are currently expecting children with T-18. Baby Eva Janette is due in March, baby Maddox is due in February, and baby Mary Grace is due in about three weeks. "Yikes", I think to myself. "Now that is a scary reality to be facing."

But do you know what they all have in common?

They are all so thankful to God for the opportunity to have had these children, and grateful for the impact that these babies have had on their lives, and the lives of so many others--who, like I have, follow their blogs from afar.

Reading about these children and their parents, and more importantly, reading how these parents are handling this seemingly insurmountable earthly trial with grace and joy has taught me some very valuable lessons in the last couple of weeks.

You would think that somewhere, in at least a couple of these women, there would be some sort of bitterness....some sort of anger at what has happened to their family and their children.

From what I can see, there isn't one shred of that within any of these families.

I am not saying that there have not been tears--lots of them--and not moments of weakness where they have wondered, "Why, God, did you choose me to go through this?" They have faced what many think is the 'unthinkable'--burying their infant children--and by their words I know they have cried millions of tears between them.

But they are able to grieve with JOY. With HOPE.

Joy in knowing that their children who have gone on to heaven before them are now whole--no longer sick, no longer suffering. Hope in the fact that they will see them again some day. And what a wonderful reunion that will be.

But they still grieve for the child that they will never get to see grow up....and I know that, despite their heavenly joy and hope, their earthly grief is still very real, and present everyday.

I know that, because it is exactly what I am going through right now.

But, I am so much better than I was a week ago. Two weeks ago. Three weeks ago. And I am better, in part, because of these families--their struggles and their testimonies. See, God gives strength to get through everything. I knew that in my head. But it was hard to feel it in my heart. Three weeks ago, I never thought I would get through.

Talk about walking through the valley of the shadow of death. But God has led me through. I feel, truly, as though now He is leading me beside the still waters, and restoring my soul. (Psm. 23) Things were rough.....now they are smoother.

Notice I said smoother....not smooth.

I would still appreciate your prayers for me. I still have my moments (lots of them) of weakness, but God is faithfully showing me how drawing closer to Him in these times makes things so much more 'do-able'.

You may have noticed the new sidebar on my blog that says, "Praying for..." These are the families that I have been telling you about. Talk about encouraging reading. If you have a few spare moments, you should click over and see what I am talking about. I promise, it will not be time wasted.

More so, however, I would love it if you would add these several families to your prayer list. I know that there are a million diseases, a million causes out there--but this is one that has impacted and forever changed me and my outlook. I am so thankful to God for that, and for these families. I pray that one of them will encourage you, as they all have encouraged me.

"Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stall, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. " Habakkuk 3: 17-18

Encouragement....

May I just say, THANK YOU.

Thank you all, each one of you who have left the most wonderful encouraging comments on my most recent post. You all have probably no idea how much your words have meant to me--I may explain just the impact that they have had in another post, but now is not the moment for that. Nevertheless, thank you ALL so much.

My friend Paul just wrote some great encouragement on his blog. Though not intended just for me, this really hit me close to home. (If you haven't read my 'NEWS' post, you should do that first so that you will understand what is going on.)

These two things (Paul's words and this video) are SOOOOO worth your time--they will take you probably a total of 4 minutes to read and view. I hope you will take just a moment to click on his link and read his brief but highly encouraging post. Thanks, Paul.

He also had the most wonderful video that I am posting as well.




Logan is a 13 year-old boy who lives on a ranch in a very small town in Nebraska. Logan listens to Christian Radio station 89.3FM KSBJ which broadcasts from Houston, TX. Logan called the radio station distraught because he had to take down a calf . His words have wisdom beyond his years.


These two things were a big encouragement to me at the moment--hope they are to you, as well, even if you aren't in the midst of a difficult 'providence'.

News

I've been waiting for a few weeks now to post some family 'news'.

I've decided that tonight is the night that I am going to share it; however, the events of this past week have drastically changed that very news. (Disclaimer: you are in for a lengthy post here.)

I am going to give the most condensed, blog-appropriate version I can tonight, which will leave many details out. But you will still get the main part of what has happened.

Shane and I found out at the end of October that we were expecting baby #4. We--well, I for sure--had some very mixed emotions, as I am sure many women do with most pregnancies: I was scared, overwhelmed, incredulous (simply because of the measures that we were taking to prevent this very thing from happening); yet, once I had a few days to take in and process all the information, very happy and excited at the thought of another addition to our household. I didn't believe for one minute that I was really ready, but talked myself into the fact that the baby wouldn't be here for at least seven months, and by then, I would be fine and a new baby would be a welcome and wonderful gift!

We told Shane's family at Thanksgiving--both of Shane's brother's wives are also expecting (Aimee is due in three days, and Karie is due in March) with their second babies, so we took a picture, all three of us 'expectant mommies-to-be', and had great fun envisioning what next Thanksgiving was going to be like, with not FIVE babies, but EIGHT!!

We told my family, and our church family....everyone was so excited for us, of course. Our excitement was really building as well. Everyone kept saying, "maybe this will be your girl!" I, personally, could care less the sex of this child--it really did not matter to me one way or the other....but I just couldn't wait to find out!

We were scheduled to go for my first appointment and sono this past Thursday, and I had all these plans--I was going to put the sono pictures up on the blog as my big announcement!

It is amazing how fast life changes. How your big plans sometimes are not God's big plans. And how, for some reason or another, that is always for our ultimately greater good and His glory, He has to gently (and sometimes, not so gently) pull those plans away from you.

On Tuesday night, I began bleeding. After three pregnancies, I obviously knew this was not a good sign. This continued off and on thru the night, and increased on Wednesday morning. We called my doctor and they were able to get me in right away for a sono. I went thru the morning with two thoughts--1. Everything is going to be fine! After all, I know lots of women who have had spotting and bleeding and went on to have perfectly fine pregnancies! and 2. Everything is going to be fine, right? I mean, nothing will really happen, right? Shane said to me on the way over, "Are we just at this point hoping for a heartbeat?" To which I replied, "Pretty much." But I thought, there is no way....nothing could be wrong, really.

With many sonograms under my belt, I knew as soon as I saw the screen--there was no flashing. Which meant, no heartbeat. I immediately got choked up, and said to the sono tech (which, if you have ever had a sono before, you know that they are never supposed to discuss anything with you about what they see--they are required to let the doctor do that), "I don't see anything flashing. There's no heartbeat is there?" He looked at me, and said, "I'm really not supposed to say (this was, by the way, the kindest man, and the best sono tech I have ever had). I started crying, and looked at him, and said thru my tears, "It's okay. I've seen enough of these to know what I am looking at. You can tell me. There's no heartbeat, is there?"

To which, he looked at me and said quietly, "No, I am sorry, there is not."

I will spare you the details of the last several days. There have been many, many tears, lots of hurting (both emotionally and physically, as the 'labor' and passing of the baby was most of the day Thursday), and lots of questioning.

Questioning myself: Did I do something wrong? Did I cause this? Did God take this baby away from me because I was so unsure of this pregnancy, and scared at first, and not as excited as I was supposed to be? Like, maybe from my reaction, that God thought I didn't want this baby, and therefore, I didn't deserve this baby?

Questioning my own 'untouchableness' (for an absolute lack of a better word that fits): I can't believe that this happened to me. This happens to other women. I have had three normal, completely healthy pregnancies. This wasn't supposed to happen. I mean, I thought--you get pregnant, you have a baby. That's just the way it works. As any woman that hasn't had this happen to them probably always does think. What is sad, to me though, is the fact that I have had MANY friends and family members touched by this very same situation--and that reality still didn't really ever make it through to me. Unfortunately, I know now from personal experience that that is NOT the way it always works.

Questioning God: Why would He ever even allow me to get pregnant, and go through all of the emotions and everything that I did, and come full circle to actually being excited at being a household of six, only to take this child away? I mean, if He didn't want me to have this baby, why allow the pregnancy in the first place?

After several days of searching, I think I know the answers to many of those questions. I didn't do anything to cause this. The reason why will probably never, ever be known this side of heaven. God didn't do this out of spite--like, "Well, you just weren't as elated as you are supposed to be, so.....ZAP, baby's gone. Better be happier next time." He just does NOT work like that.

However, I comprehend, more than I ever have, the things that I have always said--the making of a child, from start to finish, is an absolute miracle. There are so many things that have to happen, it is nothing short of a miracle, and I believe it only happens because the Creator of the whole world is watching every minute, making sure everything does go just the right way.

It is, also, an amazing gift. Not something we do ourselves, but something God gives us. If you know Shane or I very well, you have probably heard us joke about how fertile we are--"we just breathe on each other, and we are pregnant!" That, up to this point, has been the absolute truth. But it may not always be. We don't know if that may have been our last child, or if from now on, we aren't able to have any more. It sure changes the way your outlook is. It's not so much of, "well, if we want another one, we can always have one!" but, "I pray that if we decide we do want another child someday, God is gracious enough to grant us that gift."

Ultimately, I know that this is somehow, absolutely for my greater good. For my family's greater good. I can't fathom that--don't understand HOW that could be--but I don't have to. I just am choosing to accept it as truth, because I know that it is. Romans 8:28 says, "And we know that in all things, God works for the GOOD of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose." (NIV)

It doesn't make the hurt go away, though. Doesn't make me forget this loss, this giant hole I feel inside of me right now.

May I be so selfish as to ask for your prayers for me, and Shane as well? I sure would appreciate that. Even for little Colin, who was so excited to meet this baby "when it got warm outside." We have explained the truth to him, that Jesus took this baby to heaven to live with Him--but that is a hard truth for a 4-year-old to grasp. He doesn't mean to upset me, but it is hard to hear him ask things like, "When is Jesus going to bring the baby back?" He is so loving, and gentle--praying for Jesus to help me to feel better, and not be sick anymore; and bringing me a Kleenex when I am crying, and saying, "Mommy, I love you. Have my tissue to make you feel better. There is a little bit of snot on it from me though." :-) He can make me cry and smile, all at the same time. I am sooooo blessed. Shane also has been wonderful through all of this, and is doing his best to understand all of my emotions, but I know it is hard for him, too.

I am not sure really how to get through all of this, but time, as they say, helps. I know that each day that goes by, I will feel a little better, a little less sad.

But there will always be a giant part of me that is missing. I will never forget.

Baby Merritt, 12-12-07