Shadow Box

I thought today would be a good day to put together Teddy's shadow box. A place to keep his ultrasounds, footprints, blanket and cards.  Almost a year has passed and the pain isn't what it was. I want him to have a place in our home. I want it to feel like he was and is a part of our family. I waited until Justin and Harrison went to swim lessons, because I wanted to take his things out alone. It has been a long time since I looked at his ultrasounds or his little footprints. It has been a long time since I held his urn. Not because I forgot, but because I remembered how to live. Life pushes you forwarded.

Today, with the sun beaming, I felt like it was time. I fell apart. I cried as hard as I did the first time I saw those tiny footprints. I have sat here and sobbed for the past hour. Grief stays fresh. I am crying for hope lost, dreams vanished. For the little boy who should be starting to sit up and crawl and giggle. For his brother who will never play with him. For his memory, which will die out with his father and I. I am crying for all the other babies lost to horrible things we don't understand, and for all the Mamas whose arms ache to hold babies they never got to meet.

His last good ultrasound was taken almost exactly a year ago. That was before I knew about Ancephaly and how ultrasound machines have levels, or that most OBGYN's don't have the training to notice the disease early. It is before the amniotic fluid washed his brain away. Before the blackness that would meet us on the next ultrasound. This one is full of hope. Even at 13 weeks, it is clear he is a boy. He is there so alive.

I looked at it and tried to imagine myself on that day. That woman who was excitedly calling her husband, who had no concept of true fear or heartache. She did not know that she would soon be forced to make decisions that would rip her apart.  The pain of inducing at 20 weeks and the anger of a body that does not want to give birth. She was happy. She was confident. She had few fears.

I will never be that woman again. I have learned to be happy, but in a different way.  I am confident in the fact that God will not abandon us, and I can go forward assured of His great love. I have many great fears. I know fear in a way that I cannot forget. I have to work hard to leave that fear behind. It takes prayer, faith, healthy practices, acupuncture, counseling and at times meds.

I have cried and I am calmer. Grief doesn't lessen, it just becomes more manageable. I will get this shadow box done, and he will have a spot in our home. I am blessed. I had my son for 20 weeks. I got to have his footprints and his ultrasounds. I have an urn to hold. There are many Mamas who lose babies too early for these things. Babies that they have hoped and prayed and longed for. Some Mamas lose more than one, and  they have yet to get to hold any of their children. I have wiggly miracle who is almost three.

As we approach Mother's Day, please keep these Mamas in your prayers. Mamas whose arms are empty and hearts ache. Mamas who long for their baby and have waited so long their hearts are broken. Mamas who aren't sure they will ever be seen as Mamas by society. They need extra love in the next week. Please reach out to one you know and offer it.

The Grace to Listen

It has been awhile since my last post. In the time since, God has been giving me the privilege to speak and connect with women who are dealing with loss of all kinds. My best friend lost her father. Though she knew he was ill, there is nothing that can prepare for your father not being there. Nothing. Another friend is grieving through secondary infertility. They are facing struggles that are hard to put into words. Infertility is isolating and deeply personal. No couples journey is the same. In the past two weeks, two women I know have suffered miscarriages. Though they will heal in body, smile again and hopefully have more children, there really aren't words to express the loss they have had.

When you someone you love is in pain and crying out for help, it is natural to want to step in and solve it. I am a control freak. I love to solve it. Solving it is my thing. Except none of this is my thing. How do I comfort someone who has lost a father? Me, who has never really had a father. I can't even imagine what it would be like. Yet, the sister of my heart lost an anchor in her world. I have to do something. For me, God stepped in and stopped me from being ridiculous. I had no words to comfort her, but I had the ability to make dinner and clean. It is nothing. It is less than she has done for me, but it is all I knew to do. I am here to listen when she calls, and I don't always listen well. Listening and problem solving is a skill I am working on. I am lucky that she has the grace to be patient with me while I learn it.

It would seem that I am tailor made to comfort someone who is struggling with infertility, but I was just heartbroken that my friend hurt so much. Yes, I have been there. Yes, I "get" it. But I also know that no one can truly grasp the emptiness of this disease.  While we spoke, I was painfully aware of the weakness of my words. It is impossible to say, "it will be OK", because it may not be. I also don't want to overwhelm someone with my experiences, because this conversation wasn't about me. Once again, God told me to listen, and I was some what successful. It is still a skill I am working on.

Miscarriage is still a fresh wound for me. A deep fear and sharp pain always accompany a conversation around it.  Friends who have had early term miscarriages often minimize their experience to me. "Yes, I am sad, but it wasn't what you went through". No, it isn't what I went through, but losing a baby you want is indescribable and incomparable to others losses. Whether it was six weeks or 13, grief and pain are real. Yes, it is common, but that doesn't mean it isn't painful. These moments are when I don't want to say anything. I have no words. I am truly only able to listen. What I am able to say on here, becomes impossible in real life.  Strangely, this is the time I feel the most helpful. The most in touch.

I have spent the past month listening, God has been showing me that we all have suffering. We all have pain, and we all need someone to listen. If even for a moment. Just listen. Make a meal. Clean their house. Bring Coffee. Love through listening. This is tough for me, but I hope to become an expert at it.

Me. Me. Me

Some things have happened in the past few months that put me in a selfish space. Wait. That makes me sound like a passive bystander.  The past month I have chosen to be selfish, cranky, and distant. I have wallowed in my pain, my comparisons, my unfulfilled wants. I embraced it. Reveled in it. Sank deeper into a sanctimonious stew of selfish sin.

I have been mean to my husband and short with my son. Jealousy, bitterness, greed, anger, and resentment have been my good friends. The further I sank, the easier it was to add self loathing and guilt. I'm awful.

You see, I am impatient and frustrated. I thought by now God would have done something to show me what this is all about. I thought I would know the plan, but my version of the plan feels impossible. I feel old, and ill and worthless. I wonder when my husband will wish for a wife whose reproductive system works, or when my son will blame me for his lack of siblings. This is not what I want.

People are beginning to tire of me, of listening to my struggles or my hopes. At least that is my paranoid perspective.I don't want to be the weird lady who we feel bad for, yet how can I be anyone else? I have wrapped myself up in my feelings. Held on to rage, sadness, disappointment, depression and shame. I am so ashamed. Infertility feels shameful, choosing to deliver your child and ending his life feels shameful, being sad still feels shameful.

I wrap myself up and around this because I am embarrassed and afraid. This broken, hurting, lost and tired woman is not who I planned to be. Yes, I see a counselor. Yes, I am seeking medical care, yes I know lots of women lose babies. Yes I know almost a year has passed. Yes, I thought I would be much better by now too. Yes, I thought we would be pregnant again. Yes, I thought another child would come. Yes, I am almost 37. Yes. Yes. Yes.

I get angry. I ask God why this is happening, and when a clear answer doesn't come I get angrier. Everyday I am at the foot of the cross crying out. Everyday God takes me to Joseph rotting in prison, Sarah laughing at His promise, David facing Goliath, Paul in chains, Stephen stoned, and back to Christ on the cross. Everyday I tell God I got it and plan to not be selfish, bitter and angry. Lately, I have failed everyday.

Everyday I am coming back with the same cry and every day He is holding me again. Perseverance develops character and character develops hope. Romans 5:4. The past few days the pain is less. I can make it further. See others besides me. I have no answers. I am frustrated. I am struggling. All I have is obedience, so each day I am back at the Cross crying again.

Maybe faith isn't being perfect, or getting it right? This selfish journey is part of the plan, and I may never know why or how. I am starting to believe that just trying is a big part of this. Admitting I need God in all of it and learning to be content when I don't want to be. God is slowly unwrapping me, helping me make small changes. Today, I was bitter, but I caught myself. Tomorrow I begin again. Thank God for His all encompassing patience, forgiveness, and love.

Faith expressed through love

The only thing that counts is faith expressed through love Galatians 5:6

My son is singing. In his sleepy sweet voice he is crooning "grown ups come back". He has an unbreakable faith that those he loves come back to him. Mom,Dad, Nanny, Grandma and Grandpa, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Hudson, Brett the cat. These people love him, therefore they will come back. I am in awe, and finally get the goal of child like faith.

I never believed people came back. I was distraught to see them leave and sure they wouldn't return. I lived in constant terror of losing my family and being alone. The roots of my anxiety disorder are pretty clear. I still live two minutes from my Mom and see her almost everyday. I still get anxious when we travel apart from each other.

This fear has impacted my faith. If you believe you will be abandoned, you will always be looking for the "good enough" balance. I did this great thing, so they will stay, but I also was bad so they will leave. You need the right balance to ensure security. Don't mess up or bad thing will happen and you will be alone and worthless.

I learned this as the daughter and step-daughter of two emotionally abusive fathers. They both gave and took love based on inconsistent and petty whims. They both used their words to hurt and manipulate. They used anger to control, and they both left. At 16, I determined that I couldn't balance the scale for a God whose love would only turn out to mirror my fathers. I wasn't worth loving.

I was a failure. An ugly failure. An ugly, fat, failure. I couldn't figure out what I needed to do to earn the love I wanted. Then I married a man who knew my worst secrets and loved me in spite of them. I begin to wonder if I knew anything.

I spent the beginning of my marriage waiting for him to leave. Waiting to tip the balance, waiting to be proven unlovable. He told me he wasn't leaving. He worked through the rough patches, held me while I cried, he had faith in us and he expressed it by continuing to love me when I didn't deserve it.

There is no "good enough " balance. All that matters is faith expressed through love. My husbands love impacted my faith. If I believed that God brought me Justin, then I had to believe He could offer me the same love.

I had to come to the Cross with the same faith my son carries everyday. Jesus was always there for me because He loves me. His love makes my faith possible, and that faith grows when I allow the Spirit to teach me to love.

A girl so like me returned to my life a day after I asked God to give me someone to share His love with. She is struggling to fight demons and be good enough. Unlike my son, her faith in those who should love her was shattered a long time ago. She lies, and runs, and manipulates. She cries, and begs for help, and I have a longing to love her. A fierce desire to protect her. She isn't my child, and the help I offer is small, but I love her. I have no scale. I can only offer love.

Of course I feel the same love for my son, but that love was born with him. This love came to me in an assurance of faith. This is Jesus using me to show how big His heart is. This is faith expressed through love. I am not good enough to love like this on my own. Scarred hands softly make my heart bigger and through that my faith grows. Loving this child is a gift.

I am not an exceptionally good or loving person. Anyone can have this love. Anyone can feel this joy. Anyone can be this hopeful. Anyone can revel in this faith. Ask for it. You don't need anything else. Jesus will do the rest. Your faith will grow when you accept His love. It will explode when you share it. No scales. No good enough. Just faith expressed through love.

Prison

At what point do you break free? How do you you keep believing your pain will wnd and that all you are going through will be for the glory of God? My body is my prison. For almost a decade I have fought it. The constant struggle to get pregnant, lose weight, take a drug, have a procedure, workout but actually gain weight, a new drug, fertility meds, acupuncture,a miracle, no milk, non stop focus on getting milk, failing to feed my child, back to the weight struggle, infertility, surprise miracle two, exhaustion, illness, anemia, ANCEPHALY, baby kicks that disappear, too much unneeded milk, exhaustion, anxiety, exhaustion, anemia, cysts, exhaustion, precancerous nose, biopsy, precancerous face, menopause? Oh, biochemical pregnancy, acupuncture, trying to lose weight, hormones to balance your crazy, has made me hate my body.

I am trapped in it. It has failed me. I hate it. White hot, fierce, why don't you work. Hatred. My body's inability to meet its main biological imperative forms the chains that way my down. I keep expecting them to be miraculously removed, but the past month they have only gotten heavier.

Paul died after years of imprisonment. Peter too. Joseph went from slavery to prison, had hope of release and still waited two years for freedom. How did they do it? What staved off bitterness and self pity? These guys understood that suffering was nothing when compared to the love they were offered.

They still hurt. Paul complained of a pain,Peter was tortured, Joseph languished in prison for a decade. He had to bathe and shave to see Pharaoh. Their faith didn't grow because they overcame their prison. It grew because they submitted to their imprisonment and still chose to say, "you will not mie. Your plan not mine". Freedom came in death for Paul and Peter and a glorious promotion for Joseph.

I hate my body, yet God loves it. I want to give up, but God holds my hand. I want to fight, but He tells me peace. My miracle fix will most likely not come. I really physically and financially can't do more than one last round of treatments, and letting go of a baby leaves me with cysts and hormonal weight and a decision of how to proceed.

I have fought my prison,but I am learning to submit. To show my body love with healthy food and workouts, to use sunscreen and do yoga. My body sucks but my faith is growing stronger each day.

Why I can't discuss your ultrasound

Dear Friend,
  I wanted to take a moment to explain my actions, and I thought doing it here may help others in similar situations. You may have noticed that I tend to shut down when you discuss your upcoming gender ultrasound. Or maybe you have seen me turn my head and begin a new conversation in the midst of you sharing your excitement at such and important day. I must seem so rude and selfish to you.

I was the last of us to discuss gender ultrasounds, and you were always interested and excited, but I can't discuss yours. The mere thought of it makes me dizzy. I am  suddenly back in a small room going from joy to terror in seconds. My heart is racing, my world is spinning and I can't breath.

I am terrified. I belong to a club that I don't want anyone to join. I now know that good can become bad, and I do not want someone I care for to share that knowledge. Please know that I am praying. That I am happy for you. That when your baby comes I will hold him or her and be happy for  your family, but for this moment. For this thing, I can't.

Other moments, when people discuss the terror of getting pregnant again, or tell me that I don't know hard it is with two kids, those I can get through. Those I can breath through, but this is too big.

I may not always be this woman. God is working on me. No matter what, you are in my prayers and I do want to know if you are having a boy or girl. I do want to celebrate with you, but it will take time and I am thankful for your patience.

I don't think I should have to pray for her.

" If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3 If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned,[a] but have not love, I gain nothing"
1 Corinthians 13:1-3

There is someone I don't want to pray for. I don't want to forgive them. I don't want their situation to get better. I want them to go away. Far, far away. I want them to leave my family alone. The mere thought of them angers me. This person is so selfish, deceitful, manipulative and abusive that they have almost succeeded in tearing my extended family apart. 

The amount of energy that we have expended on this person and their effect on us is astounding. God finally intervened and removed them from part of our lives, but they are still there. Knocking on the door and poking the wound. I don't even deal with them directly. I am way far down the line. Outside of a random crazy text message, they never contact me. However, I still get angry at them. I still want to see Karma serve them right. I want justice!

God has been pushing me to pray for this person for over a year. Everytime I become angry or want to rant about them, He puts the verses above in my head. I can write the blog, I can spend time in devotions, I can journal and pray and go to church, but if I deny love then I am doing it all for naught. I don't want to love this person, and I don't think they deserve it. The problem is that I don't deserve God's love and forgiveness, but it is freely poured out on me. 

To help me, I have been reminded of this person's life. Their clear mental illness, their lack of family support, their overwhelming lack of self esteem and clear self loathing. Thoughts of how I would feel in their position have flooded my mind, and a desire to pray for them has bubbled up. Honestly, I have done all I can to resist it. 

I am not a very righteous person. I do not love easily, and forgiveness is harder. I am not even interested in it for the "let it go for yourself" vibe. I do not want to do this. To God, I must sound like my toddler "no, thank you. I will take all the parts of walking with you that I like, but I would like to skip this part. I don't want to love someone who received what I so desperately wanted and threw it away. I don't want to. I. Do. Not. Want. To."

Yet, I am. I am praying for them. I am attempting to love them. I am doing this despite the fact that I don't want to. I would love to tell you that when I decided to begin praying for them I was magically filled with peace and love and forgiveness, but I wasn't. I have to force myself. I have to ask God for help. I have to choose to obey what God is calling me to do. 

I am like Jonah in the whale. God was very clear about what Jonah needed to do, and Jonah was very clear about his not doing it. I think I have spent the past few weeks in the belly of the whale. It isn't always about large and amazing miracles. Sometimes it is about obedience and faith. 

I need to be obedient and treat all people with love. It is not my job to judge. It is not my job to determine who is and is not worthy of God's love. It is my job to be a living example of that love. It is my job to show my son how God's love is all forgiving. It is my job to have faith that God will help me love and forgive those who I find unloveable and unforgivable. 

Loving someone right where they are at is easy, if you like where they are, but when they are some place you detest, when their actions appall you, it can  be impossible. However, all things are possible through Christ. I will keep praying, and maybe someday I will truly love them. Until then, I will be thankful that  God doesn't hold me to the same standard I hold others to.