This past year

Hard to believe the last time I wrote was almost a year ago. I think a part of me just wanted to be done. Done hurting and aching, done opening up every time I pressed publish. But this past year is nothing to sweep under the rug.

Last January I cried as the year turned. In relief as that awful year was over and in grief for the year that brought my babies and kept them... and hope in a "new year" fell short on me. If 2015 had taught me anything it was that my hope is not found in a new year in this world, that nothing 2016 brought was going to satisfy me. I can assure you now, this is true. The answer to our prayers, the solution to our aching, the deeper meaning and reason for our sorrow was not found in our circumstances in 2016... but is only found in Christ. Last January we prepared a room for a child we didn't know.

In February we mourned and celebrated the due date of our first baby. On the drive to Colorado I couldn't stop thinking about where we should be, that we should be in the hospital and we should be holding our baby. There were so many emotions as we watched the lantern float into the sky, as the light drifted further and further. I expected relief following this time, no more thinking of where I should be in my pregnancy and where I wasn't. But instead I sank deeper into the dark.

Most of March I found it difficult to do anything, feel anything, care about anything. I remember laying on the couch crying because surely there was something I should be doing, but my physical and emotional ability to get off the couch was absent. Any desire to get up was gone. There was nothing. Every day was the same and I felt lost in each day, a shadow.  As I look back, I can see how this growing discontentment would lead a person to do something crazy... like say yes to two little boys under 13 months old... not a feeling was misplaced or unplanned.

On a Saturday morning half way through April, two little boys - N, 12 months; R, 6 weeks - came to live with us.  Monday morning Michael went back to work and I had to take them to their first visit in our care. I struggled in the parking lot outside the state building, unable to release the carseat from the base. I was going to be late for their first visit. I was going to be late and really sweaty for their first visit. What the heck had we gotten ourselves into? For the rest of April we, and the boys, survived.

On the last Wednesday in May for the past two years I have gone home from work, wrestled with my thoughts, and took a pregnancy test. On the last Wednesday in May for the past two years, we have seen two lines. Each a very different experience. The first untainted, unbridled excitement abounded. The second brought joy with caution and skepticism. Our due dates separated by just days, our first February 4. Our third baby, due February 2.

All of our tests after our second baby had come back normal. I immediately asked for blood work to be done in June. The first was my HCG, was it doubling like it should be? My initial level was 50. I had my labs done again a week later. I had told myself that the level would need to be at least 400 to bring some sort of peace and I prayed like crazy for it. He graciously gave us a 750. We also tested my progesterone, maybe a deficiency in this hormone contributed to our losses? I sobbed as this test repeatedly came back normal. There was nothing I could do differently for this baby. There was nothing I could control. I even tried to do something different by taking baby aspirin every day, maybe a blood clot early on killed our babies? All it did was give me an ulcer that made me stop taking it. No, and rightly so, God wanted all the credit for this baby. There was nothing I could do differently.
After the HCG test, I let my guard down a little bit and hoped and rejoiced. The next week we would go in for an early ultrasound at barely 6 weeks. We would walk into the same office and sit in the same chair in the waiting room. We would unfortunately walk back to the same room, #3, follwoing the same woman that had explained to us that our baby was not alive one year ago. And we would hear nothing. The same lady would tell us that it was too early, Michael would hear something completely different than I. All I heard was nothing and I shut down.
But...two weeks later we saw the most amazing flutter on an ultrasound.

In July we went on vacation and mourned and celebrated the due date of our second baby.  It also happened to be the week we lost our first baby. I was turning the same number of weeks the same day as the year before and that 9th week brought a lot of memories and fears. We returned to have a doctor's appointment the same day I had my procedure last year. This year we saw a healthy heart beat and jumping baby.

This month also marked the beginning of my relationship with the boys' mother. It has been such a blessing to see how God has prepared me through my brothers to walk beside her.

Throughout August Michael and I started to settle into life with 2 under 2. Not without a lot of grace and help from our friends. For the first few months with them we stayed above water. It had been a constant balance between trying to keep up and savoring their lives, as we were the ones God chose to have front row seats.
I began supervising the boys' visits, allowing our relationship with their parents to grow.

Our 20 week appointment was in September. It was the first ultrasound I had been excited for. I love seeing our baby, but the days leading up to those appointments are a constant battle between my faith and my flesh. Despite the baby somersaults in my belly, my mind flashed back to the only thing I know about that dreaded office. Room #3. Baby is not growing. Silence. That woman. 

The night before I asked God to win this battle in my heart. I asked God to go with me. I ask God to go before me...

Then my mind flashed to early morning, the office empty. Jesus walking in through the waiting room, Him brushing up against the arm of the chair I chose. He walked back to the room. He sat on the exam table. His fingertips grazed each piece of equipment. He watched the monitor.
How breathtaking that thought was.
He had gone before us. He had carefully planned and prepared tomorrow. Just as He had carefully planned our visit to that same office a year before.
The next morning we saw a healthy, growing baby girl.

In October I began an intensive therapy program at work. This includes seeing a kiddo for 3 hours a day 5 days a week. Something I talked about a lot and was passionate about, but looking back I am sure I only prayed about it a handful of times, if any. Yet, He brought it to fruition and I saw my first intensive kiddo. The outcomes, the depth of treatment and relationship you build in that time period is immediately rewarding.

At the end of November, the boys had their first unsupervised visit. I cried when I found out they were approved, despite being ecstatic for them and their parents. I rejoice and grieve with each victory they have towards going home, it is a familiar feeling. I fully believe and know that if able, the best place for the boys is with their parents. That doesn't make it easy to imagine an evening without them, to think of going a day and not to know exactly where and how they are every second, to not be the one to ensure their well-being and happiness... talk about a loss of control. There are so many fears that come with the day they go home, so many tears. My biggest hope is that the majority of those tears will be mine and they will continue to be the happy little boys we love so much.

This December we have been making lists and preparing baby girl's nursery.  A rather daunting task with two little ones and the holidays. Last Christmas I was so very aware of the large belly that was missing. I was thinking the other day about how it seems like yesterday that Michael was coming to eat lunch with me every day after our first baby, to hold me, to calm me. I would curl up on his lap in the car and rest there and cry there. It lead me to think of that skinny body; the body I hated so easily, the body I labeled as ruined. I look at my very different body now and see how gloriously Christ redeems all things.

As 2017 begins so differently than 2016, I think again to where our hope is found. Our happy ending is not this baby. This year has been incredibly humbling, as we do not deserve these gifts. Christ owes us nothing and yet He demonstrates the depth of His love, compassion, and redemption upon us. We know that this baby will not bring worldly satisfaction. We will continue to want; we will continue to desire more because the only thing that will fill us up is Christ.

I know that 2017 may not hold all that we hope for in this world, but I also know that Christ holds 2017 in His hands and He is holding us too. May all the glory for our journey go to Him.

After all

written on 01/04/2015

Our baby was due a month from today. 

It makes my heart ache thinking about what this month should have, could have looked like. It makes me miss my baby. How can you miss someone you haven’t met?

I should be putting the finishing touches on the nursery. I should be washing clothes and putting them away. I should be checking our packed bags. This month should be filled with joy and anticipation of meeting our first child. 

I received an email this morning notifying us that we are now licensed foster parents. 

I was initially so excited. Then fear crept in.
Are we ready to be parents? The room isn’t ready. We don’t have clothes or a car seat or toys or a bag. We don’t have daycare prepared. It has been just the 2 of us for 5 years, can we do this? What if I love them and lose them? Everything is going to change. We are suppose to have 9 months to get ready for this sort of thing…

Haven’t we though? 

Haven’t we had 9 months? Nine months filled with trials and teaching. Haven’t we had 9 months thinking about and praying for our future children?  Haven’t we had 9 months of loving them and losing them? 

Hasn’t He prepared us for this first child? 

And if He has been preparing us, who has been waiting for us? What has the past 9 months been like for our child that God would prepare us in this way?

It isn’t what we thought this month would look like. It is messy. It is unfamiliar and unknown. 
It is terrifying. But, my goodness is it poetic. 

It doesn't make it okay. It doesn't lessen the hurt we feel when we think about the past 6 months. It still doesn't make sense. This world is still the terrible awful place where my babies had to die for us to be able to love and provide for someone else's child this February. But He shows me a glimpse of His plan through the poetic timing and reaffirms to me that He is doing something. That we lost our babies in this world to care for another family, to show them God's love in this world... Because He knows we will have our babies in another. 

After all, I will spend this month preparing a room and putting away clothes and waiting in eager anticipation to meet our first child in this world. 

A New Year, Thank God

written 01/01/2016

The holidays have been a tug of war between rejoicing for the future that the birth of Christ promises and being saddened by the absence of our babies. 

The new year was a struggle between being grateful as hell that that terrible year is over and not really looking forward to another year.

That sounds bad, but I’m not sure that is completely a bad thing. It isn’t that I have no hope, I think I may just be learning that nothing in this world can satisfy me. That this world is not my home. This world will have always have trouble. I am not made for it. And for the first time, I don’t belong. And I don’t want to.

As much as I would like to trade this past year in, I wouldn’t dare. The God I knew last January was not as mighty, as sovereign, as powerful, as loving, or merciful as the God I know now. He hasn't changed, but oh how I have.

As much as I wish I could, I wouldn't trade it. 

Christ's promises are way better than the promises of a New Year.

Joy in every circumstance

written 12/06/2015

I have always been a social person, an extrovert. I love to be around people.

So, it is very different for me to be so anxious and uncomfortable in social situations. But alas, I am.

I get nervous thinking about them. I have many anxious moments in the days leading up to social gatherings. It doesn’t matter who it is with, even my closest friends. Family in a big group. It doesn’t matter, I get anxious.

I think of the pity glances. The things people will say that will unknowingly make me uncomfortable. The questions and small talk that will make my skin crawl. The eye contact I will now try to avoid. The “encouragement” I will try to talk over to shield my ears. The drained feeling I will have when I leave from acting like I am someone I am not anymore.

A majority of the time these thoughts and feelings are unfounded and I leave feeling more full. And, sometimes not. When strangers ask if you have kids and it isn’t your party so you have to say no to keep the attention away from you and then you feel as though you are going to throw up because you surely do have children... the fact that everything is so hard is evidence.

We had Friendsgiving in Columbia this weekend. I was anxious.  It is really hard for me to communicate that. To say that I am scared to see my friends because I feel different and I haven’t seen them. So, instead I sit in the passenger seat and think about it for 3 hours and convince myself that I am alone in the world and then blow up as we pull in the drive…

cause that’s helpful.

Sometimes I forget that others love me. Maybe because some days it is hard to love myself.  I was nervous for this weekend, but it was a great reminder that while losing my babies is a part of me, it is not who I am. Sometimes when I think of social situations I see myself wearing a name tag that says “Hi, I have failed to carry my two babies.” A weekend surrounded by and simply being loved by my best friends reminded me that I am not broken. My name tag says, “Hi, I am a child of God...” and He has taken care of the rest.

There is such joy in that, in every circumstance.

Truly His

11/19/2015

We always knew we wanted children. I have always known Michael would be the most incredible, attentive father. Until last January it has been a “whenever the Lord wills it” or a “some day” kind of want. Then it changed. All of a sudden we were ready for kids and we wanted them right away. At the same time we wanted to be surrendered to however God chose to grow our family. We wanted to demonstrate God’s love and answer His call to love and provide for those in need. We pursued foster care as we began trying to conceive.

My heart wasn’t there. There was no excitement. In my mind, I just kept thinking “some day” we will do this. And then we got pregnant. We decided we would do respite care and then go on hold when Baby #1 came. When we lost baby, I could not imagine opening myself up to such pain at a time when I was so emotionally distraught. We finished our home study with the intent of going on hold when we received our license. As we healed and God revealed truth after truth to us, our hearts began to change towards fostering. We no longer saw it as a means to grow our family, but truly about providing for children in need, demonstrating God’s love, and opening up our home and arms as a ministry.

We decided we would pick a month and open up for placement regardless of what happened. He said December, I said January. (For absolutely no particular reason.)

A week later we were pregnant. Two weeks later we weren’t.

For the first time and for today, I am actually surrendered, peaceful in the knowledge that my God and His promises are constant. This life is full of death and darkness. We have sat in it, we have lived in it, but He has overcome it.

For the first time, I am excited at the thought of ministering to a child in our care and loving on their family.

After losing baby #1, I was so scared of God’s plan for our lives. Scared that more babies in heaven were in store for us. I wanted to trust Him so badly, to rest in His sovereignty, but it only scared the hell out of me. What if God’s glory meant 50 babies in heaven? I won’t survive it again.

But I have.

For the first time, I am not scared of His plan. While His plans may hurt, they will never harm me. I am saved.

I have never been more aware of the character of my God.

I know whatever tragedy may befall us, whatever hurt we will encounter as foster parents, whether we have 10 babies in heaven and none on earth, come sickness or poverty, loss and betrayal - God is on the throne.

He meant me for more than being paralyzed by fear, for more than my disillusioned, selfish version of the “American dream”. He meant our babies for more.

I will answer His call...come hell and likely, high waters.

For the first time, I feel like I am truly His.

God with us

11/18/2015

I haven’t written much. More than anything, in most moments I feel there are no words.

For the first time in months I don’t feel worried or anxious about the future. I am not living for a positive test tomorrow or what day of the month it is. While I don’t ever want to go through this again, I know that if we did… we will be okay.

I look at our circumstance and it seems tempting to deem it “unfair”. Yet, my heart KNOWS and is clinging to the truth that GOD IS JUST. He has not wronged me. I am not pitiful. I will spend eternity with my children. How GREAT is my God?

When we began training to foster in April 2015 thoughts of what I wanted our family to look like plagued my mind. Could I prepare a nursery to bring home someone else’s baby? We have always wanted to foster and maybe one day adopt, but I had a picture in my head of how I wanted that to go, too. I had expectations for my journey through motherhood. As much as I prayed to surrender those expectations, I didn’t.

My mind was also plagued with fears about foster care. My second-worst fear was that I would not love the children brought into my home as my own. That I would feel like I am babysitting and fail them. My worst fear was that we would welcome a child into our home and love it as our own and then lose it.

I sit here now, my expectations for our family utterly shattered. My fears faced, having fallen in love with my unborn children so quickly, so fully, and losing them. I sit here now, hands and heart open to whatever God has in store.

I know whatever it may be... He has gone before us and He will go with us. And one day we will join Him.

Sustaining Grace

11/8/2015 3 days after we lost our second

Yesterday I cleaned and organized everything I could in an attempt to control something and look at things that are in no way a reflection of the way I feel.

I woke up this morning in my clean sheets, my body sore, blisters tender from my rampage to make things pretty and I found that my heart is literally hurting. There are no chores to do today, aside from some laundry, and I don’t know what to do with myself. I ache.

We went to church. We made it through a song and a half before tears were streaming down my face and I felt like my walls were going to collapse in on me. Singing of God’s healing powers and deliverance, while ever true, I just could not do today. I walked quickly out of the service, out of the building before my sobs became audible and my husband took me home.

I feel heavy today, burdened by our hopes for this child that have been dashed; burdened by dread of outside world. I thought I was doing better this time. Today lacks that peace; today lacks promise.

I asked God to take away the overwhelming desire to be pregnant. I can assure you that He has. When we lost our first baby, at first I said I didn’t want to get pregnant right away... I lied, and demonstrated sheepish, hesitancy towards becoming pregnant again… All the while desperately wanting to. It is much different now. I absolutely dread the thought of seeing two lines again. Especially before doing more to see what could be wrong with me. There is an odd relief in not constantly fighting off fear, maybe that is part of the difference this time.

We have lost greatly, but for the moment, no more babies are threatened inside my body. I am not paralyzed by fear that I am losing one. I pray that during this interim, God would deal with my fears and show me more of His promises and character so that one day, I will fear not.

After losing our first baby, my best friend wrote this to me in a letter,

“I wish so desperately things were different...I long that God would have extended a delivering grace during this season of your life. A “yes” to your prayers. Rather than a sustaining grace. The kind that holds you during the storm but doesn’t calm it. The kind that seems useless and callous and insufficient. The no to your prayers.”   

I had never pondered the difference. I keep asking for deliverance and feeling forsaken. However, I must not mistake His sovereignty for absence. (Wasn’t I just praising his sovereignty a few days ago?) As I have learned, it is my feelings that change, my circumstances that change… but my God, He does not.

Then she shared this scripture, Psalm 22:1-3
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer, by night, and am not silent. Yet, you are enthroned as the Holy One.”

Today his grace feels useless and callous and insufficient. I do not see His healing in sight.

Yet.