Broken Record

09/23/2015

I want to write to try to process my emotions, but I don’t know even know where to start. I have felt all these things previously, like a broken record. I am sure I have written them at some point and came to a conclusion on some sort of truth. But no matter how many times I say those things to myself right now, it doesn’t help.

I am angry that we lost our baby.

I am angry that God is withholding another baby from us. 

I am angry that He has given me a strong desire to be a mother and have a family and yet has not delivered.

I realize how selfish that is as I say it.

There are people everywhere that want the love and companionship I have. That would like to be fulfilled by their profession the way I am. That would like to have the support system I have. That have experienced tragedy for worse than I have…

And yet, I tell God I hate Him.

How utterly ridiculous am I.

As I took the test today, I begged God on my knees, and even as I begged, I knew the answer. I knew He was telling me no. With each “Please” my mind would say, "You are not". I prayed to be surrendered to His plan and His will, but I was not.

All day my devotionals have been about his power. Every song I have heard has been about His power. I do not doubt that He has the power to give me two lines, regardless of if I believe or feel He will, but He did not.

I literally thought to myself today, “I’m done, God. I’m giving up on you. I’m not seeking solace in your embrace. I’m not giving you the glory.”

I sat there thinking about what that might look like. I have previously lived a lot of days in my life indifferent to God, not seeking Him but knowing His truth. I truly do not know what it would look like in my life to absolutely turn away from Him. It is a foreign concept. I wonder if he would rather me indifferent or belligerent. I think about people who don’t believe in God and go through this, how they must have no hope. But they also have no one to blame I suppose, no one but themselves… Maybe that is part of his compassion. He lets me blame Him.

It terrifies me to think that a large family is not what He has in store for us. What if He wants 10 more of our babies in heaven and none on earth? I don’t think I can do it.

I thought about Michael and I having a family and our baby being born next year around the time we carried and lost our baby this year. I thought of tributes to our baby in February when baby would have arrived. I see happy and smiling faces. I think about what God has in store. And dang it, I believe in Him. I don’t think I can help it. I believe in Him when I don’t want to, when I try to run away. I believe in His faithfulness when I have none myself. When I see those smiling faces in my mind, when I think about what is to come, I can’t imagine not giving Him the glory.

Tonight, I lay here thinking about His power.

I am so easily blinded by my emotions and my selfishness.

The God who created the universe, who has no NEED for me, who is absolutely just, who numbers every hair on my head entertains my scorn.

It would be like an ant yelling at me and telling me it hated me. IF I even heard what the silly ant was saying… I wouldn’t care. I’d be like, fine ant, I’ll squash you.

He has all the power to squash me for the terrible, hurtful words I hurl at Him. Still, He does not.

He sustains me.

One day, in heaven, when my flesh has been laid to rest and I am perfect reflection of Jesus, I will understand that God’s glory is truly my own; that what brings Him glory brings me glory. I think the real beauty will be that I won’t care about “my glory” in the least.

God is so powerful, that although I lay down tonight feeling guilty and ashamed and selfish, He still calls me child and forgives me and seeks to lavish His glory upon me.

That is a power unlike any I have ever known.

Sweatpants

09/09/2015

Sometimes I just feel overwhelmed and want to come home, put on sweat pants, eat too much, and not leave the couch. Sometimes I just feel like crying and not being strong. Sometimes I just miss what I had and I am saddened by the many days between my then full, expectant heart and my now empty belly.

As I wrote that, it flashes through my mind that as the days between now and Baby’s life on earth grow, the days between now and our heavenly meeting grow shorter.

The end will justify the means.

But right now, I am going to go lay around and cry about the means.

09/16/2015

I don’t know what He is doing. I know He must know. I surely do not.

Our Precious {first} Baby

09/03/2015

I accidentally told a close friend when we were 5 weeks along. She shared with me a quote from when Anna Duggar announced her pregnancy at 8 weeks:

“Every life, regardless of how young or short lived deserves to be recognized and celebrated.”

We told our family the weekend before we lost baby.  That Wednesday I thought to myself, how cruel our God is, we just told our families and now we have to call and tell them baby is not alive.

My brother held my hand Thursday after my procedure in the darkness of our guest bedroom. I cried and questioned aloud why God didn’t tell me a week ago before we told our family, or 3 weeks ago for that matter.

Keith told me that I should have seen the joy and happiness for our baby that erupted around that table when we shared our news.  He told me how happy he was that we got to celebrate baby together.

That day is one of my greatest treasures. If only for a few days, our family got to love our baby and rejoice for the gift of baby’s life.

I will never stop thanking God for our time with baby, our family’s opportunity to celebrate our baby, and the glorious blessing it was to carry our precious first child.

5 Gift Ideas for Mommas of Angel Babies

I have loved the recognition of our babies' lives through gifts. 

Though they are material things, they have been beautiful symbols of the babies we have loved and lost. If this holiday season finds you loving someone struggling with the loss of the unborn, I hope these gift ideas help you love them better. 

My husband gave me a necklace with what would have been our first baby's birthstone. In those first few months I clung to it. It was something tangible, something I could see. Everything else I clung to besides Michael wasn't anything I could touch or see, it was all faith. I won't be able to take the necklace with me into the next life, but it brings me comfort in this one. 

I love catching Michael looking at it. 

Photo by Anna Merrell Photography and Design

My best friend, Leah, gave me a locket from Etsy after we lost our first baby. On the outside it reads, 

"I held you"

Photo by Anna Merrell Photography and Design

On the inside it reads "every second of your life". 

Those words, they take my breath away every time I read them. 

They never fail to bring tears to my eyes. What a beautiful picture of my babies' lives. 

She included 2 Cor. 4:16-18. The verses we read as I went in for my procedure. 

As well as a ruby, July's birthstone, for when our first baby was born into heaven. 

After losing our second baby, who was due to arrive the week we lost our first baby, it was hard for me to take this necklace off. The ruby meant so much, for both of our babies. 

Photo by Anna Merrell Photography and Design

My friend, Alyssa, shared her love with me from afar by sending me this keepsake from Willow Tree called "Remembrance". The placard reads, "Memories...hold each one safely in your heart." She shared with me that my little ones will never be forgotten. And that meant the world.

At different points after each of our babies left us I would feel like I wasn't handling it well. I would feel like I could cry forever, or maybe never again. I would feel alone. I would feel like no one understands me in this world. And God doesn't care. Sometimes, I still do. I am not whole, none of us are. My best friend, Dana, sent be this vintage bottle entitled "bottle of tears" with the pictured print. 

Especially in my anger after our first loss, I didn't want to hear about how God cared about me when I was filled with such pain. Pain He had the power to take away. This was a beautiful and gentle reminder that He sees and counts every.single.tear. 

The card describes how no two bottles are the same, as each person's grief is infinitely different from another's.

This gift was so unique and reassured me that there is no right way to grieve. Jesus counts my tears regardless. 

I was taken aback when one of my little kiddo's mom, Jill, took me aside one day and told me that I had been on her mind throughout the summer. She didn't know why, so she prayed for me. Especially over the 4th of July. After finding my blog, she realized why I had unknowingly been on her heart. It is amazing how someone can so quickly become a beloved friend and sister in Christ. 

A week after losing our second baby Jill gave me a box, the note inside said, 

"I have one of these for each of my children. I thought you might want one for each of your babies too."

I still cry reading it. 

We missed out on every experience of this life with our two little ones. These bibles were a way to have a tradition with them. It brings me overwhelming comfort to have their lives, and their presence in ours, considered so thoughtfully. I felt so loved, but it meant even more to know that my babies were loved and thought of.

I know that no two mother's journey down this terrible road is the same. My hope would be that you could take these gift ideas, or even the way they made me feel, and seek to love others this way. Seek to recognize and bring light to the lives they have loved and lost. The lives society tells us to hide away in a deep dark corner of ourselves and let go of. 

Our babies' lives were short, but we fell in the love with both of them. Head over heels. These gifts recognize that pain, love, and the beauty that follows in the wake of their death. The beauty Jesus brings to everything. 

Beauty in the Broken Pieces

09/02/2015

Photo by Anna Merrell Photography and Design

I was dropping Boone off to be boarded, the woman said my necklace was beautiful. My heart leaped.

“Thank you, it would have been my baby’s birth stone.” I said, proudly.

Her eyes widened, I may have imagined it but I am almost certain she took a step back. “Oh, wow.”

There is something in our nature that backs away from other’s pain. We try to take a step back. We try to gloss over it with cliches and promises of a better tomorrow. Our love for one another seeks to make others feel better. 

When I say we, I mean we. I am guilty. I did it this week to a close friend. She was sharing her feelings regarding a really tough matter in her life and I rode in on my white horse with an alternative explanation for her future. I was slapped in the face with what I had done when I heard my own oh-so frequently used “I know.”

The truth of the matter is, most people feeling loss know the truth. And if they don’t, spewing it at them during this dark time will not convince them of it.

We need to get comfortable with the darkness in order to get close to people experiencing it. We want to save people by bringing them hope: 

It gets better. 

God is control. 

You feel this now, but you won’t later. 

It will all come together. 

It will happen.

Lean on God.

In my darkest hours, I knew these things were true. But in order for me to bring my emotions to God, I had to experience it.

I want to be there for people experiencing darkness so they don’t have to experience it alone. In order to do that, I have to be comfortable enough to sit and experience it as well; to resist my desire to try and make it better. I can’t make it better anyways.

My best friend gets it.

Leah laid with me for hours in that dark guest room. Since we were little, her soul has always been quiet and it has grown so graceful. The only thing she said to me was, “I want you to say whatever you want or need to.” 

Sometimes I spoke and she listened. 

Sometimes I stared into oblivion. 

Sometimes I cried, and she cried too. 

It could not have been comfortable in that room; witnessing one of the people you love most so hurt and broken and small. Leah didn’t come that day with distractions, promises of a better tomorrow, or to cheer me up. She came to literally lay in the darkness with me, to share the weight of my pain, and mourn my baby with me.  She was the greatest example of Jesus.

He too, lay with me. He watched me suffer and did not seek to rescue me from it. I said terrible things to Him and He did not correct me. He let me bring every emotion to Him. He held me when I wanted Him least. 

He goes into the darkness with us.

It is my prayer that we all might learn to share the pain of others; to not take a step back from it or rescue them with hope, but to experience it together; that we might find beauty in the broken pieces.

Urgency

08/30/2015

I woke up this morning with an overwhelming sense of urgency.

I had this moment where I imagined the day I go to heaven. I imagined being wrapped in Jesus’ arms. I imagined it feeling familiar and safe and secure, similar to when I am wrapped in Michael’s arms and I lay my head upon his chest, except there is this absolute peace that I have never known. In that moment, I am completely satisfied.

Then, only because He loves me so immensely; Jesus carries my baby, and places her in my arms.

I look around and see my loved ones.

Some faces are blurry.

In this world, anxiety fills me. Who will not be there?

But in heaven, we will not hunger or thirst. He will be our light and our portion forever.

I do not think that I will get to heaven and be disappointed by who is and who is not in His courts. He will be enough.

Therefore, I feel a sense of urgency.

Right now, it absolutely breaks my heart to think that I may not spend eternity with people I love. Maybe that seems offensive, my questioning of other people’s souls. I do not find myself more holy or faithful. I am utterly unworthy, and I see that in myself everyday. I have only believed what God has shown me. I do not even think that my believing is of my own accord. The gospel says, “Hey you, you are full sin. You need saving.” That is offensive. Me saying that is even more offensive, because I am full of sin myself.

I get caught up in respecting people’s privacy and opinions and feelings. If I truly respected and loved their souls, I would not waste one second of the time afforded me on this earth. I would speak life with every breath and pray fervently that God would reveal His truth to their hearts.

If we truly sought to love others, we would seek for them to experience God; to not settle for hoping that what they did and believed on this earth would be enough. When you grasp the gospel and begin to glimpse the character of God, there should be no doubt that the saving grace of God will lead you to Him when you die.

I feel that this life is a game of hide and seek with God. Except that He is everywhere and we are blindfolded. You can believe He is there and yet not find Him, because you are still blindfolded. It isn’t until He removes your blindfold that you truly see Him.

Kids say the darndest things

08/28/2015

As we waited in the waiting room for our first doctor’s appointment to have blood work done I saw one of my favorite little patients with her mom.

This is girl is spunky and sassy and I love her.

I saw her for the first time since then today.  We barely made it into the gym before she said,

“My mom said you weren’t going to have your baby.”

My insides wrenched, the air went from lungs like when the cold takes you by surprise. 

“Where did your baby go?”

My eyes welled. I was barely able to speak the word “heaven”.

Confused by my tears she moved on. But once I had recovered, she began again with renewed curiosity. 

“Did your baby die?”

(I winced.) Yes.

“How did it die?”

Baby stopped growing, baby’s heart stopped beating.

“Why?”

Jesus wanted baby in heaven. 

“Do you have another baby in your belly?

Not right now. 

“How did your baby get in your belly?”

UM. Jesus put baby there.

“Did it tickle?”

…Something like that. (HA)

“Why did Jesus take your baby to heaven?”

I have absolutely no clue. 

“Will you see baby in heaven?”

Yes, of that I am sure.

As brutal as it was, her honesty was so refreshing. I know why God has such a heart for children.

I showed up to dinner at my best friend’s house emotionally exhausted. As soon as my nephew, Quade, saw me he jumped up and said, “Aunt Katelyn! I have been wanting to see you!”

I lay down with my nephew, Cooper, for bedtime. He brought me a book to read called, “What is God like?” Some words barely escaped my mouth as God spoke through this children's book. The last page read, “I’ve loved everything that I made from the start. My world and my people I hold in my heart. “

I look back at today and His sovereignty takes my breath away. My little girl’s tough questions tore down my walls, my strength. I don’t believe in signs. I don’t believe in coincidences. I believe in a powerful, wrathful, loving God that is intricately invested in my life and eternity. While the questions were spoken from a child, they came from God. Though they filled me with sadness, I do not ask Him to take it away.

Yet, He does. He loves on me through those little boys.

He is doing something through my child.

God is not standing idly by, but building an eternal glory that far exceeds these troubles.

As He promised.