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.