Today? Ugh...I'd rather not talk about today.
I had another meltdown. (Let's see...that makes at least one every day for the past week...) I think it might be stressed-induced. Because I've been stretched thin. Because I've been concerned about our financial state. I know the verses, and I can sing the songs, but it. is. hard.
It's hard when your ideas of how things should be come crashing down. Again. It's hard when things seem to be falling apart. For real. Even our hot water heater leaked last Monday...and it went into Abby's room. Our landlord had it repaired that day, but there's still damage to the room. (It stinks...and the carpet is somewhat stained.)
But I know that God is faithful, even when we don't feel like it. He is there, leading us and guiding us, even when we hurt. Even when we don't see it, He is there. And He is waiting to comfort us.
I spent some time with Him this afternoon. Some self-induced Mommy "Quiet Time Out" time. It was good. So very good. And I felt a huge sense of peace wash over me. I gave God all of the things I felt I needed or wanted to accomplish. And guess what? Some things got done. Others didn't. And we're okay. It's such a relief to type those words and to know they are true.
He is faithful. He has given us so very much. All I need to do is look...
Counting the gifts today...
long walks in the woods behind our house
seeing the pond my husband mentioned before
new car seat bought mostly with gift cards!
moist pumpkin spice muffins from The Pioneer Woman YUM!
sweet smiles and kisses from Abby
hearing her belly laugh as she plays with her daddy
watching her grow up so quickly...waving bye bye, saying words like blue and book, trying to talk and walk already...
chatting with my #clothdiaper friends on Twitter
Drew taking care of me in just the right way when I need it most
Him taking Abby for me in the mornings/evenings so that I can relax
being in the top 5...and praying for God's will to be done
learning to praise Him "Even if..." (Dan. 3:16-18)
the hours and days that I feel aren't worth it...and the sweet look of total trust that says it is
figuring out that the striving isn't worth it...now if only I could live it!
coming back to this place. right here. and feeling at home. :)
Showing posts with label Abiella. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Abiella. Show all posts
Nov 4, 2011
Five Minute Friday: Remember
It's been a while since I stopped and wrote out a Five Minute Friday...but in the stillness of this minute (or five...) I'm going to once again join Lisa-Jo and a host of other bloggers as we Remember...
Start!
It's been nearly 9 months. 9 beautiful, life-changing, never-wanna-go-back months. She's starting to pull herself along the furniture...been pulling up for a while now. She's a mess, and she gets into everything, but I'm loving every second of it!
But before that? It had been almost 2 years. Since the heartache and the hurt and the anger and the pain. Since the first miscarriage that went on to two. Since God drew me close when I felt so far and allowed me a glimpse into the sufferings His Son went through...and that fellowship sustains me even now.
And today? Today, this week, I celebrate five wonderful years of getting to know the man I now call husband and who my daughter calls Daddy. Five years of hurt and anger at times and love and understanding, better-than-happily-ever-after at others. Five years of being goofy and turning right around and having a deep, theological discussion because that's how we roll, y'all. Five years of getting to know each other better...and I can't wait to see where this road takes us.
Life...good and bad. Life...worth remembering.
Stop!
And just because I feel like it (read: because I can and want to...) I'm going to leave you with a picture that I want to remember every year from now on...
Start!
It's been nearly 9 months. 9 beautiful, life-changing, never-wanna-go-back months. She's starting to pull herself along the furniture...been pulling up for a while now. She's a mess, and she gets into everything, but I'm loving every second of it!
But before that? It had been almost 2 years. Since the heartache and the hurt and the anger and the pain. Since the first miscarriage that went on to two. Since God drew me close when I felt so far and allowed me a glimpse into the sufferings His Son went through...and that fellowship sustains me even now.
And today? Today, this week, I celebrate five wonderful years of getting to know the man I now call husband and who my daughter calls Daddy. Five years of hurt and anger at times and love and understanding, better-than-happily-ever-after at others. Five years of being goofy and turning right around and having a deep, theological discussion because that's how we roll, y'all. Five years of getting to know each other better...and I can't wait to see where this road takes us.
Life...good and bad. Life...worth remembering.
Stop!
And just because I feel like it (read: because I can and want to...) I'm going to leave you with a picture that I want to remember every year from now on...
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| Abby, Daddy, Mommy, and Aunt Shea at the Pumpkin Patch |
Aug 26, 2011
Five-Minute Friday: Older
She has light brown hair that's slowly getting fuller, though it's still thin. Every now and then, in the sunshine, you can see streaks of red, promises of a fiery spirit.
She has two teeth now...two! Just a month ago, she had none.
She looks over at strangers in the restaurants and gabs at them until they notice her, and her biggest smiles come when she's entertaining someone. She loves dancing with her Daddy and me, too. Music is still her favorite.
She's eating toddler snacks and raw fruits and veggies. She loves toast strips and hates naps. She's always on the move, and she's getting faster every day!
No, she isn't my baby anymore, but I don't want her to be. She's growing into her personality, and I love watching her blossom.
Older, yes. Sweeter, of course! More of a diva? You bet! And I'm loving every. single. minute. of it all! Well, except for when she fights her naps. ;)
Linking up with Lisa-Jo for Five-Minute Friday again! Join in on the fun! :)
She has two teeth now...two! Just a month ago, she had none.
She looks over at strangers in the restaurants and gabs at them until they notice her, and her biggest smiles come when she's entertaining someone. She loves dancing with her Daddy and me, too. Music is still her favorite.
She's eating toddler snacks and raw fruits and veggies. She loves toast strips and hates naps. She's always on the move, and she's getting faster every day!
No, she isn't my baby anymore, but I don't want her to be. She's growing into her personality, and I love watching her blossom.
Older, yes. Sweeter, of course! More of a diva? You bet! And I'm loving every. single. minute. of it all! Well, except for when she fights her naps. ;)
Linking up with Lisa-Jo for Five-Minute Friday again! Join in on the fun! :)
Aug 11, 2011
Carried
She's quiet and content while I wrangle up some laundry. While I spray liquid allergy relief on sofas and pillows and beds and carpet. I sense her drifting off, her body slowly relaxing while I stay busy. Then I realize her head is down, her body quietly inhaling and exhaling. I grab some soup, some nourishment, and sit down for just a bit.
I feel her. Her still frame, her hot breath, completely at peace, at ease.
She sleeps on my back, in a baby carrier. Completely oblivious to all the things I'm doing, to all of the movements that my busy hands make. But she knows I'm there. She rests in perfect peace.
How is it that I am her rock? How is it that fragile, floundering me can possibly be her encouragement, her strength?
She wakes, balks a bit at the snugness, then gives in to rest, to sleep, again.
How often do I balk at the too-tight closeness of God? How often do I balk at His mercy, His love, His peace, only to finally give in to rest?
She will wake, will balk, will want put down. Or I will tire out from holding her and need my own rest. I lose patience, grow weary, and crave rest. For time on my own. Why do I balk at the One who wants to carry me? Balk at the One who can give me rest, grace, peace when I need it? All the time?
She doesn't know God. She knows me. She knows her Mama and her Daddy. When we forget peace, when we decide we don't want to listen or to do, she learns to balk from Him. To struggle and fight instead of lean in and rest.
It's such a humbling thought: she learns who God is from us. She learns how to perceive God from how we teach about Him.
Am I ready to teach her, show her God? I know that I'll never be ready if I'm trying to be perfect. But can I teach her to trust, to be humble, to rely and lean on Him? Can I teach her about faith, about love, about peace?
The only way I can teach is by acting it out. Daily. Hourly. Every moment will be taken into consideration, every act of mine will influence her walk with Him. Am I ready? I'll never be.
Unless...
I learn to lean and rest. Trust in the Everlasting Arms. Under the wing of the Almighty. In the safety of Him.
After all, He carries us.
I feel her. Her still frame, her hot breath, completely at peace, at ease.
She sleeps on my back, in a baby carrier. Completely oblivious to all the things I'm doing, to all of the movements that my busy hands make. But she knows I'm there. She rests in perfect peace.
How is it that I am her rock? How is it that fragile, floundering me can possibly be her encouragement, her strength?
She wakes, balks a bit at the snugness, then gives in to rest, to sleep, again.
How often do I balk at the too-tight closeness of God? How often do I balk at His mercy, His love, His peace, only to finally give in to rest?
She will wake, will balk, will want put down. Or I will tire out from holding her and need my own rest. I lose patience, grow weary, and crave rest. For time on my own. Why do I balk at the One who wants to carry me? Balk at the One who can give me rest, grace, peace when I need it? All the time?
She doesn't know God. She knows me. She knows her Mama and her Daddy. When we forget peace, when we decide we don't want to listen or to do, she learns to balk from Him. To struggle and fight instead of lean in and rest.
It's such a humbling thought: she learns who God is from us. She learns how to perceive God from how we teach about Him.
Am I ready to teach her, show her God? I know that I'll never be ready if I'm trying to be perfect. But can I teach her to trust, to be humble, to rely and lean on Him? Can I teach her about faith, about love, about peace?
The only way I can teach is by acting it out. Daily. Hourly. Every moment will be taken into consideration, every act of mine will influence her walk with Him. Am I ready? I'll never be.
Unless...
I learn to lean and rest. Trust in the Everlasting Arms. Under the wing of the Almighty. In the safety of Him.
After all, He carries us.
 |
| Abby being carried in my fancy-schmancy Ergobaby |
Aug 6, 2011
Can a Woman Forget her Nursing Child?
In case you missed the memo, this past week was World Breastfeeding Week. I'm not going to go into all of the reasons why it's great or why I love it. Not even on factoid! (Seriously, I promise!) I did want to share this post that I wrote for my (ultra-time-consuming) other blog, Sisters 'N Cloth. (The one where I would readily post facts and reasons, if you're into those.) So without further ado, my post for this past week's Worship Wednesday.
"Can a woman forget her nursing child,
or lack compassion for the child of her womb?
Even if these forget,
yet I will not forget you."
or lack compassion for the child of her womb?
Even if these forget,
yet I will not forget you."
Isaiah 49:15
Because it happens to be World Breastfeeding Week, this verse seems fitting. But because of other events this week, it seems even more fitting.
Melissa introduced me almost two months ago to a little baby, born almost 8 weeks ago with Trisomy 18. This little boy, Tate, lived for over 7 weeks with this genetic disease, defying so many odds. When his mother went in to have her 6 week checkup, her doctor mentioned that it must be hard for her to make the visit. She was amazed to find out that, no, this checkup was not difficult because her boy was still alive. Yes, he is gone now. But Tate has touched countless lives with his and his mother's and father's testimony. They trusted in God to heal their boy, and He did heal him to the fullest when He brought Tate home with Him in Heaven. But not only did God heal Tate, He also allowed for him to be loved, cherished, and nurtured by his family for over 7 wonderful weeks. God is so good! Tate went home to Heaven on Saturday, carried by many prayers.
Another baby, Everett, never saw the light of day. His mother went for another checkup just after his due date in February and found that he had already died. She delivered him the next day and has carried him in her heart since. Her pregnancy had been completely normal, no complications whatsoever. Nothing at all even hinted that something could go wrong. But when it did, she and her husband fell in God's embrace, constantly reminding themselves of God's goodness, His mercy, and His love. It's been five months since they buried their son, and they are rejoicing today because, in God's great love, He has given them another baby. And while they are so cautious, they can still rest in Him, knowing that He loves them and that every day with this baby is a gift.
There are so many times in life when it feels like God has abandoned us. There are wars, famines, hurts, death, and it seems that God couldn't be in them. That He must not love us enough or He would do something about it. We may think, "Babies dying? Come on, God, how is that just? How is it right when their parents are faithful? You have a twisted sense of justice..." But the verse above? Remember what it says? Even if it were possible for these mothers who have lost their children, the children of their wombs, God would still not forget us!
 |
I pray that as you nurse your child this week, that you will remember the great love that God has for each one of us. As far-fetched as it may seem, He loves us more than the love you have for your child. Even as you nurse. And that, my friend, is pretty spectacular.
If you'd like to read more about Tate's story and learn how to pray for his family, you can visit his mother's blog here. To read Everett's story from the "start," you can visit his mother's blog here, or if you'd like to read her announcement post and rejoice with her, you can read it here.
Aug 5, 2011
Five Minute Fridays: Whole
I have been woefully neglecting this little blog. I hate how inconsistent I've become with it, but I also know that this is a growing and a stretching of myself. Hopefully I will be able to come back more regularly soon, but until then, I believe that Five-Minute Fridays may be my best bet at staying sort of regular. :)
This week's Five Minute Friday topic is whole. Five minutes, no editing, no worrying about how right it sounds or how creative (or not) it is. Just writing to write...and then sharing the writing love with fellow bloggers.
Start!
Whole? What is whole?
I, for one, have had fleeting moments when I have felt whole. I've been nit-picked, hurt, and have felt very un-whole for so many days. Losing myself in the "what I'm not," forgetting the "what I am." Wholeness does not come easily for me.
But.
I am whole, I am complete in Christ. I am a new creation. And my wholeness is not found in what I say or do (or what I don't say or do). Wholeness is found in Christ. In grace.
I trust this, I believe this, but it still takes a lot of courage for me to be whole. For me to live this knowledge.
I'm working on it. Slowly working, slowly thanking, slowly becoming the woman I need to be. The woman He has made me. The woman He is making me.
Wholeness. Complete.
The circle starts again, mother bearing daughter. The circle is made whole. The girl is made woman. And the wholeness begins to fill.
I work at being whole for her. I work at this wholeness, laboring daily so that she may have life. Life. Wholly living on grace.
Stop!
This week's Five Minute Friday topic is whole. Five minutes, no editing, no worrying about how right it sounds or how creative (or not) it is. Just writing to write...and then sharing the writing love with fellow bloggers.
Start!
Whole? What is whole?
I, for one, have had fleeting moments when I have felt whole. I've been nit-picked, hurt, and have felt very un-whole for so many days. Losing myself in the "what I'm not," forgetting the "what I am." Wholeness does not come easily for me.
But.
I am whole, I am complete in Christ. I am a new creation. And my wholeness is not found in what I say or do (or what I don't say or do). Wholeness is found in Christ. In grace.
I trust this, I believe this, but it still takes a lot of courage for me to be whole. For me to live this knowledge.
I'm working on it. Slowly working, slowly thanking, slowly becoming the woman I need to be. The woman He has made me. The woman He is making me.
Wholeness. Complete.
The circle starts again, mother bearing daughter. The circle is made whole. The girl is made woman. And the wholeness begins to fill.
I work at being whole for her. I work at this wholeness, laboring daily so that she may have life. Life. Wholly living on grace.
Stop!
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| Abiella, "God is My Father" |
Jul 22, 2011
Five Minute Fridays: Full
I haven't been here in a while. It feels kinda nice to write a bit about whatever I want. In case you missed it, I've been blogging at Sisters 'N Cloth, and in between that and these crazy days, I've neglected this blog more and more.
While I'd like to say that I won't be as neglectful in the future, I really don't know if that's true. I'll try, that's for certain. Because I miss the warmth here. The freedom here. And, honestly? It's nice to be home.
Anyway, on to this week's Five Minute Friday topic: Full.
Go!
Oh, my days are full. Full of errands and cleaning, full of running after Little Miss Quick. (Yes, that sounds like Bisquick.)
Mostly, though, it's full of anticipation. Of wondering how and when God is going to lead. These days of wandering, of wilderness, they have an ending. They have an end. They are ending now. And we are so full of joy, of hope, of amazement at the wonder God is doing!
Even Little Bit is getting more and more excited. It shows in how fast she moves from right in front of me to the coffee table...and then over to the ottoman. My hands? They're so full right now with her. But they're full of good things.
My heart, too, rejoices in its fullness. Sometimes it threatens to spill over, this incredible, wonderful joy! God's promises are yes and amen! He never leaves, never forsakes, never abandons! He stays with us, even when we feel He certainly has left us. And when we look up and realize that He has always been there? Full doesn't even begin to describe it!
Full, overflowing, spilling over, dripping onto the floor, making huge puddles of joy...that's where we are right now, friends. Full indeed. :)
Stop!
It seems as though I really should update y'all on what's going on around here. :) Soon, I promise.
While I'd like to say that I won't be as neglectful in the future, I really don't know if that's true. I'll try, that's for certain. Because I miss the warmth here. The freedom here. And, honestly? It's nice to be home.
Anyway, on to this week's Five Minute Friday topic: Full.
Go!
Oh, my days are full. Full of errands and cleaning, full of running after Little Miss Quick. (Yes, that sounds like Bisquick.)
Mostly, though, it's full of anticipation. Of wondering how and when God is going to lead. These days of wandering, of wilderness, they have an ending. They have an end. They are ending now. And we are so full of joy, of hope, of amazement at the wonder God is doing!
Even Little Bit is getting more and more excited. It shows in how fast she moves from right in front of me to the coffee table...and then over to the ottoman. My hands? They're so full right now with her. But they're full of good things.
My heart, too, rejoices in its fullness. Sometimes it threatens to spill over, this incredible, wonderful joy! God's promises are yes and amen! He never leaves, never forsakes, never abandons! He stays with us, even when we feel He certainly has left us. And when we look up and realize that He has always been there? Full doesn't even begin to describe it!
Full, overflowing, spilling over, dripping onto the floor, making huge puddles of joy...that's where we are right now, friends. Full indeed. :)
Stop!
It seems as though I really should update y'all on what's going on around here. :) Soon, I promise.
Jul 2, 2011
when grief comes to visit again
Grief. It's such a funny thing. You can go for days, weeks, months without it ever rearing its head.
And then, one day it pops up out of nowhere, leaving you hurt and angry and breathless all over again.
My babies. I will forever miss them, and I didn't even know them. Hardly knew they were even there. And yet they taught me the hardest lessons I have ever learned.
And today, I sit here thinking that I will never have anything but the vague memory that they were here. That the only thing I ever gave them was a name. And though they never called me Mama, they did bring to life my Mother's heart. Their short lives are filled with such paradoxes, the greatest being that my friends and family in Heaven know them better than I ever will while I live here on earth.
There are so many questions that I have, so many I'd love to ask that can't be answered. But even amidst the questions and the hurt, I know this: I am thankful for their lives. I am thankful for their deaths. Not because I don't miss them. Not because I've had a vision of them. I am thankful because without their deaths, Abby wouldn't be here today. Without their deaths, I would not be the woman I am. Without their deaths, I would not be nearly so anxious for Heaven.
Yes, I am thankful. Even when I don't understand why.
And then, one day it pops up out of nowhere, leaving you hurt and angry and breathless all over again.
My babies. I will forever miss them, and I didn't even know them. Hardly knew they were even there. And yet they taught me the hardest lessons I have ever learned.
And today, I sit here thinking that I will never have anything but the vague memory that they were here. That the only thing I ever gave them was a name. And though they never called me Mama, they did bring to life my Mother's heart. Their short lives are filled with such paradoxes, the greatest being that my friends and family in Heaven know them better than I ever will while I live here on earth.
There are so many questions that I have, so many I'd love to ask that can't be answered. But even amidst the questions and the hurt, I know this: I am thankful for their lives. I am thankful for their deaths. Not because I don't miss them. Not because I've had a vision of them. I am thankful because without their deaths, Abby wouldn't be here today. Without their deaths, I would not be the woman I am. Without their deaths, I would not be nearly so anxious for Heaven.
Yes, I am thankful. Even when I don't understand why.
Jun 29, 2011
The Unveiling
I don't know if you're at all like me. If you read this fairly regularly, there must be something in yourself you see in me. Possibly. Maybe?
Which is odd. Because I've been hiding for years. From me. From everyone else. Because sometimes I really don't like who I am.
There have been years when I hid in books, imagining someone else's life in places far and away from my mundane life.
There have been years when I hid in my words, writing whatever is on my heart while not actually dealing with it. Writing the things I couldn't say...because my words come surer on the page than in the air.
Before that, I hid in my play, in Barbies and baby dolls and beanie babies. Pretend the world isn't as it is. Pretend I'm not me.
I hid from my sisters, my friends, my parents, and, until recently, even my husband. Because I wasn't good enough, pretty enough, smart enough, or neat enough. Because whatever face I could show them would be better than me.
And now? Now the world hits me full-force because now I'm the shield for my daughter. Because I want her to deal with life and not hide. Not hide behind pretend, pretense, words, or stories.
Her story matters. Her words matter. And I want to hear those words instead of letting her bottle them up inside of her. I want to keep her unveiled because, you know what? She's pretty awesome.
Which is odd. Because I've been hiding for years. From me. From everyone else. Because sometimes I really don't like who I am.
There have been years when I hid in books, imagining someone else's life in places far and away from my mundane life.
There have been years when I hid in my words, writing whatever is on my heart while not actually dealing with it. Writing the things I couldn't say...because my words come surer on the page than in the air.
Before that, I hid in my play, in Barbies and baby dolls and beanie babies. Pretend the world isn't as it is. Pretend I'm not me.
I hid from my sisters, my friends, my parents, and, until recently, even my husband. Because I wasn't good enough, pretty enough, smart enough, or neat enough. Because whatever face I could show them would be better than me.
And now? Now the world hits me full-force because now I'm the shield for my daughter. Because I want her to deal with life and not hide. Not hide behind pretend, pretense, words, or stories.
Her story matters. Her words matter. And I want to hear those words instead of letting her bottle them up inside of her. I want to keep her unveiled because, you know what? She's pretty awesome.
 |
| Awesome baby girl |
Jun 24, 2011
Five Minute Fridays: Wonder
It's been another whirlwind week! So, so much going on lately. Thank you for your patience, friends, as I learn to write two (!) blogs. Friday is here, and once again I'm linking up with Lisa-Jo to write without worrying about if it's just right or not! Can I just say that after a week filled with blog posts that I've been worried over, this feels like just the vacation I need? It's the simple things, I guess. This week's topic? Wonder.
Go!
I sat in wonder at 20 weeks, awing over the sonogram I had received. In awe at the beauty, the glory of God forming in me. And I cried, I cried that God could be so very good.
I sat in wonder several nights...woken up around 5 or 6 by the little body moving around in mine. Just sitting, feeling her move and shift and play. Little baby girl, wrapped inside me...wrapped lovingly by God's hands.
I sat in wonder in February, after almost a day's worth of labor, and just stared at the little life in my arms. Just stared at her nose, at her eyes, at her hands. Awing over this little life just beginning, awing that I already knew her and she already fit.
I sit in wonder now, listening to her cry from waking herself up. In awe and wonder that she is who she is, how she is a mirrored image of myself, much more social than I could ever be. And I wonder how it is that God brings a life into this world to enrich mine, ours, and shows us who we are, who we have always been, who we have hidden from the world. And it is so good to just wonder a while.
Stop!
Cut this one a little early. Couldn't let my baby girl. keep crying!
 |
| Abby at 20 weeks: the day we found out she would be a girl! |
Go!
I sat in wonder at 20 weeks, awing over the sonogram I had received. In awe at the beauty, the glory of God forming in me. And I cried, I cried that God could be so very good.
I sat in wonder several nights...woken up around 5 or 6 by the little body moving around in mine. Just sitting, feeling her move and shift and play. Little baby girl, wrapped inside me...wrapped lovingly by God's hands.
I sat in wonder in February, after almost a day's worth of labor, and just stared at the little life in my arms. Just stared at her nose, at her eyes, at her hands. Awing over this little life just beginning, awing that I already knew her and she already fit.
 |
| Abby at birth |
I sit in wonder now, listening to her cry from waking herself up. In awe and wonder that she is who she is, how she is a mirrored image of myself, much more social than I could ever be. And I wonder how it is that God brings a life into this world to enrich mine, ours, and shows us who we are, who we have always been, who we have hidden from the world. And it is so good to just wonder a while.
 |
| Abby today |
Stop!
Cut this one a little early. Couldn't let my baby girl. keep crying!
Jun 20, 2011
Multitudes on Mondays: Pink
When I found out that I was having a girl last September, I was excited. I had only known girls, being the oldest of three of that gender, and boys? Well, I had no clue. But there was one part that I did not like.
Pink.
Pink was never a good color for me, and I much prefer green or blue or purple or even yellow to the ultra-girly pink.
Pink is what girly-girls wear. Barbie wears pink. Girls who take hours to dress each morning wear pink. My daughter was not going to be one of those girls. Pink was out.
But there's a sad truth to having a girl. Almost all newborn clothes, nearly every girl-specific toy, and *almost every single girl gift at baby showers come only one color: PINK.
At first, I balked. I protested. I looked for other ways, other means. Pink would not be the defining color of my baby girl!
Then she was born. And pink indeed took over much of her wardrobe. And her toys. While there were (and are) other colors, we still have lots of pink.
But I've actually come to like it, accept it. Pink is so much more than a color. It's a mindset, a realization that this child is my daughter, a princess, and longs to be beautiful, even now. (Yes, my four-month-old loves to be put in pretty, albeit comfy, clothes...especially pink ones!) My daughter, even now, is showing her girly side: preferring to be a social butterfly, enjoying shopping trips to the fullest, and already trying to talk up a storm.
Pink. Is absolutely beautiful.
Counting the gifts that pink has brought us:
pink dolls
pink onesies
pink on her diaper covers
pink dresses
pink Moses basket
pink blankets
pink rattles
pink socks
pink pants
pink stroller
pink towels and washcloths
pink bathrobe
pink picture frames
pink photo albums
pink stuffed animals
...and a purple swing.
Pink.
Pink was never a good color for me, and I much prefer green or blue or purple or even yellow to the ultra-girly pink.
Pink is what girly-girls wear. Barbie wears pink. Girls who take hours to dress each morning wear pink. My daughter was not going to be one of those girls. Pink was out.
But there's a sad truth to having a girl. Almost all newborn clothes, nearly every girl-specific toy, and *almost every single girl gift at baby showers come only one color: PINK.
At first, I balked. I protested. I looked for other ways, other means. Pink would not be the defining color of my baby girl!
Then she was born. And pink indeed took over much of her wardrobe. And her toys. While there were (and are) other colors, we still have lots of pink.
But I've actually come to like it, accept it. Pink is so much more than a color. It's a mindset, a realization that this child is my daughter, a princess, and longs to be beautiful, even now. (Yes, my four-month-old loves to be put in pretty, albeit comfy, clothes...especially pink ones!) My daughter, even now, is showing her girly side: preferring to be a social butterfly, enjoying shopping trips to the fullest, and already trying to talk up a storm.
Pink. Is absolutely beautiful.
Counting the gifts that pink has brought us:
pink dolls
pink onesies
pink on her diaper covers
pink dresses
pink Moses basket
pink blankets
pink rattles
pink socks
pink pants
pink stroller
pink towels and washcloths
pink bathrobe
pink picture frames
pink photo albums
pink stuffed animals
...and a purple swing.
May 21, 2011
The Hard Questions
There are so many questions that have hard, life-altering answers. They're the ones that atheists and agnostics ask, the ones that they use to keep God at a distance. Because when you really look the answers, they seem so wrong.
Why do babies die? Why does God allow cancer, HIV, poverty, hunger? Why does God let children die of preventable diseases? Why does a faithful man get rewarded with an unfaithful wife? Why does God let bad things happen to good people?
Well, there's the obvious. There is sin in the world, and we are an imperfect people. There must be a curse because there is evil.
But when it's you, when these things happen to you, those answers seem hollow. They are hollow. There's not real substance in them, and they leave hurt feelings. Why would God allow such things to happen to His people?
I'm reminded of something that Francis Chan said. In Isaiah 55, God says that His ways are higher than our ways, and His thoughts are higher than our thoughts. As high as the heavens are above the earth, so are His thoughts higher than our thoughts. Francis said that to say, "I wouldn't believe in a God who..." means that we are making His thoughts submissive to our reasoning.
I actually came back to those verses a lot after my miscarriages. I had desperately wanted to be a mother. My mind was so set on it, my heart was preparing early on for this huge responsibility. I helped to raise my sisters (5 and 11 years younger than me), so I had already thought long and hard about how I wanted to parent and discipline.
After I married Drew, it seemed a natural progression to have children. When we finally found out that we were pregnant, I was ecstatic. No matter that I still had at least a year left of college; I could make it work. And then I miscarried. I was devastated, but I had hope for another child. When I miscarried the second baby, I was brought face to face with the reality that I might not have children the way that I originally thought. And I was brought very low with that reality.
After all, wasn't that the very thing I felt called to do? Wasn't motherhood something good? How could motherhood be a bad thing? It didn't make sense at all, especially when I had known for sure that God had called me to be a mother.
What I didn't realize that He was whittling away at my self-absorbed soul. He saw my imperfections and loved me enough to continue working in me. Because I am sinful. I am so very imperfect, even though I try so hard to be perfect. I am a perfectionist by nature, and I daily put myself down for not being enough or doing enough instead of leaning hard on Him who saved me by His grace.
I had to come face to face with the reality that I did not need to be a mother to be satisfied. I had to come to the point where I could fully tell God that He had all of me...all of my heart and all of my life. Fully, completely, no if's, no and's, no but's, and no strings attached. After all, He graciously gives me all I need. He graciously gives me life, breath, and I have no right to claim anything that He gives.
I have mentioned before how I have to give Him everything, all. "I Surrender All" is no longer just a song; it's a way of life. Even my daughter's life, as much as I adore her and want her to live for as long as possible, is not mine. I cannot claim it. It's His gift, and all I can do is thank Him for every moment I have with her. I'm pretty sure that this is what keeps me sane on the nights when she wakes up every 2 hours and I desperately need at least 4 more hours of sleep but she's wide awake.
Do I claim to know the mind of God? May it never be! I have no clue what God's ultimate purpose for any tragedy is. All I know is how God has worked in my life through this one hardship, and I don't even see all of the ways He changed me through that! There are ripples, and my experience has touched other lives in ways that only God knows. Even how I treat people in everyday life has changed. And looking back, I can see good in it. I can see His grace in it. But only in hindsight. And only by...His grace.
Why do babies die? Why does God allow cancer, HIV, poverty, hunger? Why does God let children die of preventable diseases? Why does a faithful man get rewarded with an unfaithful wife? Why does God let bad things happen to good people?
Well, there's the obvious. There is sin in the world, and we are an imperfect people. There must be a curse because there is evil.
But when it's you, when these things happen to you, those answers seem hollow. They are hollow. There's not real substance in them, and they leave hurt feelings. Why would God allow such things to happen to His people?
I'm reminded of something that Francis Chan said. In Isaiah 55, God says that His ways are higher than our ways, and His thoughts are higher than our thoughts. As high as the heavens are above the earth, so are His thoughts higher than our thoughts. Francis said that to say, "I wouldn't believe in a God who..." means that we are making His thoughts submissive to our reasoning.
I actually came back to those verses a lot after my miscarriages. I had desperately wanted to be a mother. My mind was so set on it, my heart was preparing early on for this huge responsibility. I helped to raise my sisters (5 and 11 years younger than me), so I had already thought long and hard about how I wanted to parent and discipline.
After I married Drew, it seemed a natural progression to have children. When we finally found out that we were pregnant, I was ecstatic. No matter that I still had at least a year left of college; I could make it work. And then I miscarried. I was devastated, but I had hope for another child. When I miscarried the second baby, I was brought face to face with the reality that I might not have children the way that I originally thought. And I was brought very low with that reality.
After all, wasn't that the very thing I felt called to do? Wasn't motherhood something good? How could motherhood be a bad thing? It didn't make sense at all, especially when I had known for sure that God had called me to be a mother.
What I didn't realize that He was whittling away at my self-absorbed soul. He saw my imperfections and loved me enough to continue working in me. Because I am sinful. I am so very imperfect, even though I try so hard to be perfect. I am a perfectionist by nature, and I daily put myself down for not being enough or doing enough instead of leaning hard on Him who saved me by His grace.
I had to come face to face with the reality that I did not need to be a mother to be satisfied. I had to come to the point where I could fully tell God that He had all of me...all of my heart and all of my life. Fully, completely, no if's, no and's, no but's, and no strings attached. After all, He graciously gives me all I need. He graciously gives me life, breath, and I have no right to claim anything that He gives.
I have mentioned before how I have to give Him everything, all. "I Surrender All" is no longer just a song; it's a way of life. Even my daughter's life, as much as I adore her and want her to live for as long as possible, is not mine. I cannot claim it. It's His gift, and all I can do is thank Him for every moment I have with her. I'm pretty sure that this is what keeps me sane on the nights when she wakes up every 2 hours and I desperately need at least 4 more hours of sleep but she's wide awake.
Do I claim to know the mind of God? May it never be! I have no clue what God's ultimate purpose for any tragedy is. All I know is how God has worked in my life through this one hardship, and I don't even see all of the ways He changed me through that! There are ripples, and my experience has touched other lives in ways that only God knows. Even how I treat people in everyday life has changed. And looking back, I can see good in it. I can see His grace in it. But only in hindsight. And only by...His grace.
May 20, 2011
When Seasons Change...
Fridays just seem to appear out of nowhere these days! Maybe part of that is from the very little sleep I've been running on. :) Linking up with Lisa-Jo!
Anywho, if you have the inkling to join me, remember: five minutes writing, no editing, just creativity! Today will be extra fun because I'm using my little sister's itty bitty computer.
Go
15 weeks ago, it was most definitely winter. Early February, dead, bare branches and brown grass. Then, she was born. In the midst of winter, my little blossom was born. The Friday after her birth, the last snow of our Southern winter fell.
Somehow, winter became spring. In the blink of an eye, there was green grass, blooming trees, and sunny days. She started wearing short sleeves, and I started leaving the socks off of her feet. She started smiling, laughing, and cooing just as the spring slowly came.
She is almost four months now, and the summer is starting. She knows us now, and even far away from her Daddy, she misses him. She got scared last night, screaming and wailing, and she wouldn't let go of me when I finally came to get her. Summer looks better than the spring.
Stop!
Yeah...this little keyboard definitely didn't help. I kept having to stop and rewrite because suddenly words were being typed in the middle of other words. :) Oh well. Minor inconvenience on a very special weekend. My little sister is graduating high school! Congratulations, Sarah! I'm so proud of you!
Anywho, if you have the inkling to join me, remember: five minutes writing, no editing, just creativity! Today will be extra fun because I'm using my little sister's itty bitty computer.
Go
15 weeks ago, it was most definitely winter. Early February, dead, bare branches and brown grass. Then, she was born. In the midst of winter, my little blossom was born. The Friday after her birth, the last snow of our Southern winter fell.
Somehow, winter became spring. In the blink of an eye, there was green grass, blooming trees, and sunny days. She started wearing short sleeves, and I started leaving the socks off of her feet. She started smiling, laughing, and cooing just as the spring slowly came.
She is almost four months now, and the summer is starting. She knows us now, and even far away from her Daddy, she misses him. She got scared last night, screaming and wailing, and she wouldn't let go of me when I finally came to get her. Summer looks better than the spring.
Stop!
Yeah...this little keyboard definitely didn't help. I kept having to stop and rewrite because suddenly words were being typed in the middle of other words. :) Oh well. Minor inconvenience on a very special weekend. My little sister is graduating high school! Congratulations, Sarah! I'm so proud of you!
May 10, 2011
Is It Tuesday Already??
Oh wow. To say that it's been a long week so far is an understatement! I'm still thinking it's Monday...
Sunday, we traveled down to Jackson to have Abiella dedicated at my dad's church. It was so sweet being able to publicly show that we have given her to God on Mother's Day, a day that for the previous two years has been so very hard. I will not say that this is my first Mother's Day, even though it is my first to celebrate with a child (which has made the past two years quite awkward...) It's my third. Just like Abiella is my third child, even if the world sees "just" one. Yet I am thankful, so thankful, for the many reminders of my other two children...even down to the dragonflies on Abby's pacifier. Their lives have changed me in ways I'll never fully understand, and I am so grateful to be their Mama.
We got home after midnight on Sunday, and when I woke up Monday morning, I was most definitely feeling under the weather. Allergies can be so annoying! Thankfully I slept most of it off today (I even grabbed a quick nap this afternoon!), and I think the dreamlike state is over. I hope so, anyway. It was so bad that as I was writing down my gift-count, I could not think of any words at all! I'm still pretty loopy, but things are looking up for the most part.
I am thankful for so much, even in my allergy-head-cold state.
Like caffeine that clears my head enough to think semi-clearly!
And definitely the time that I was able to spend with my family. The times are too few and too short lately!
I'm also thankful for Drew's family driving down to Jackson to be part of Abby's dedication, even if they were late. Their commitment to us and to Abby is truly humbling.
Sunny days that shine the brightest light into the living room.
Abby sleeping soundly (apparently her gums have been bothering her lately and I'm just now noticing!)
Homemade laundry detergent that works really well!
Homemade cloth diaper detergent that won't leave residue on my diapers!
The way that my mind is/isn't working...I'm pretty sure that this post is one of the most random yet!
The Envibum diaper that I won! Free diapering for my little girl? Yeah...definitely made my day!! And this company is just awesome! Love that they're Christ-based and that they donate $2 from every order to different organizations (including Crisis Pregnancy Center!)
Also for the hairbow set that I won...too sweet!
For dresses and blankets and sewing adventures...
For big, big smiles from my sweet girl...
For Coca-Cola goodness that helps me get through the day...
For pink toenails and clean hair in a ponytail...
For her reaching and grabbing and holding on tightly...
For the wonderful words my husband tells me, much more meaningful than any card could be...
For all of the dirty, yucky, coma-inducing, seemingly-endless days of new motherhood and the love that pours out...
For realizing that I still have a major attachment to my flats over fancy diapers...
For all the goodness and love poured out on wretched, horrid me.
Lord of all, to Thee I raise this, my hymn of grateful praise!
Sunday, we traveled down to Jackson to have Abiella dedicated at my dad's church. It was so sweet being able to publicly show that we have given her to God on Mother's Day, a day that for the previous two years has been so very hard. I will not say that this is my first Mother's Day, even though it is my first to celebrate with a child (which has made the past two years quite awkward...) It's my third. Just like Abiella is my third child, even if the world sees "just" one. Yet I am thankful, so thankful, for the many reminders of my other two children...even down to the dragonflies on Abby's pacifier. Their lives have changed me in ways I'll never fully understand, and I am so grateful to be their Mama.
We got home after midnight on Sunday, and when I woke up Monday morning, I was most definitely feeling under the weather. Allergies can be so annoying! Thankfully I slept most of it off today (I even grabbed a quick nap this afternoon!), and I think the dreamlike state is over. I hope so, anyway. It was so bad that as I was writing down my gift-count, I could not think of any words at all! I'm still pretty loopy, but things are looking up for the most part.
I am thankful for so much, even in my allergy-head-cold state.
Like caffeine that clears my head enough to think semi-clearly!
And definitely the time that I was able to spend with my family. The times are too few and too short lately!
I'm also thankful for Drew's family driving down to Jackson to be part of Abby's dedication, even if they were late. Their commitment to us and to Abby is truly humbling.
Sunny days that shine the brightest light into the living room.
Abby sleeping soundly (apparently her gums have been bothering her lately and I'm just now noticing!)
Homemade laundry detergent that works really well!
Homemade cloth diaper detergent that won't leave residue on my diapers!
The way that my mind is/isn't working...I'm pretty sure that this post is one of the most random yet!
The Envibum diaper that I won! Free diapering for my little girl? Yeah...definitely made my day!! And this company is just awesome! Love that they're Christ-based and that they donate $2 from every order to different organizations (including Crisis Pregnancy Center!)
Also for the hairbow set that I won...too sweet!
For dresses and blankets and sewing adventures...
For big, big smiles from my sweet girl...
For Coca-Cola goodness that helps me get through the day...
For pink toenails and clean hair in a ponytail...
For her reaching and grabbing and holding on tightly...
For the wonderful words my husband tells me, much more meaningful than any card could be...
For all of the dirty, yucky, coma-inducing, seemingly-endless days of new motherhood and the love that pours out...
For realizing that I still have a major attachment to my flats over fancy diapers...
For all the goodness and love poured out on wretched, horrid me.
Lord of all, to Thee I raise this, my hymn of grateful praise!
May 6, 2011
Three Months!
Three months ago, I was up, awake with labor pains that had kept me from a nap already needed. And I stayed awake for at least two more days...for some reason I couldn't sleep for more than an hour with my sweet girl in this world!
She's still keeping me awake at night...not because she feeds often or even stays awake for very long. Nope...I just love holding her close in these sweet moments. Feeling her breathe against my chest, hearing her sighs. They are right up there with her big grins, giggles, and almost-laughs. Two years ago, I would have given anything for the incredible blessings I have now, and I try to stay mindful of that.
I'm not going to lie: I still feel like she is going to be taken from me any second. Which may be a blessing in disguise because I am forced to give her to God every moment of every day. The reality is that she isn't mine, and I can't live like she is. She is God's. He has lent her to me, and every single minute with her is a grace-gift from Him.
I don't feel that way very often, honestly. When she's fussy, the last thing I want to do is be grateful for her. When she wakes me up at night, I don't want to enjoy her or even hold her. I just want to sleep! But when I look into her eyes and see that she needs me, even when I'm tired of having to be there for her, I melt just a little. I am reminded of so many families who have lost babies, who would be ecstatic for one minute of the frustration that I sometimes feel, and I thank God for this miracle...and the miracle happens: I am thankful. Truly thankful. Even for the spit-up, the fussiness, the everywhere-poop, the I-have-to-be-held-and-entertained-NOW cries...all of it when I thank.
She's still keeping me awake at night...not because she feeds often or even stays awake for very long. Nope...I just love holding her close in these sweet moments. Feeling her breathe against my chest, hearing her sighs. They are right up there with her big grins, giggles, and almost-laughs. Two years ago, I would have given anything for the incredible blessings I have now, and I try to stay mindful of that.
I'm not going to lie: I still feel like she is going to be taken from me any second. Which may be a blessing in disguise because I am forced to give her to God every moment of every day. The reality is that she isn't mine, and I can't live like she is. She is God's. He has lent her to me, and every single minute with her is a grace-gift from Him.
I don't feel that way very often, honestly. When she's fussy, the last thing I want to do is be grateful for her. When she wakes me up at night, I don't want to enjoy her or even hold her. I just want to sleep! But when I look into her eyes and see that she needs me, even when I'm tired of having to be there for her, I melt just a little. I am reminded of so many families who have lost babies, who would be ecstatic for one minute of the frustration that I sometimes feel, and I thank God for this miracle...and the miracle happens: I am thankful. Truly thankful. Even for the spit-up, the fussiness, the everywhere-poop, the I-have-to-be-held-and-entertained-NOW cries...all of it when I thank.
Apr 4, 2011
Sweet Sweet Spring (Multitudes on Mondays)
She wears bright colors: pinks, whites, greens, purples, yellows, reds. She, the spring-reminder, the day-bringer, the sunrise, the bloom. My young one embodies her role, reminding me and the few who usually see her of the vibrancy of life. How life looks when the sun is shining on a spring day.
While I wear darker colors, feeling most comfortable in blacks and grays, sometimes dark purples and maybe a stripe or two of white. Me, the caretaker, the observer, the one who watches, laughs, and wonders anew each day as she grows and unfurls a little more from her womb-cocoon.
The beauty is that she needs me. She needs me to love her, to protect her, to care for her, to play with her. She needs all that I am to survive. The bloom needs the thorn. The spring needs the winter. The sun needs the clouds. Snow, rain, dark sky can be beautiful too. Beautiful and beloved. A mama's dream-come-true.
Starting to count the grace-gifts here:
1. Abiella, blooming with the spring
2. Flowers to pick and hold
3. Butterfly flitting about in the yard
4. Warm days and cool nights
5. Reading Bible stories to my 8-week-old girl
6. Learning the new steps to the dance of life
7. Laundry that stays unfolded for several days
8. Cousins seeing each other for the first time in weeks
9. A nephew who is RSV-free!
10. Family being healthy again
11. Brothers playing online computer games
12. Syrup on pancakes for lunch on Saturday
13. Sweet daughter nursing
14. Soft, sweet infant skin
15. Memory verses reminding me of God-promises
16. Sunday afternoon naps
17. 8 whole weeks of wonder
18. Washing cloth diapers and laying them out in the sun
19. Mommy sandwiches
20. Preparing for her first Easter
Linking up with Ann Voskamp today!
While I wear darker colors, feeling most comfortable in blacks and grays, sometimes dark purples and maybe a stripe or two of white. Me, the caretaker, the observer, the one who watches, laughs, and wonders anew each day as she grows and unfurls a little more from her womb-cocoon.
The beauty is that she needs me. She needs me to love her, to protect her, to care for her, to play with her. She needs all that I am to survive. The bloom needs the thorn. The spring needs the winter. The sun needs the clouds. Snow, rain, dark sky can be beautiful too. Beautiful and beloved. A mama's dream-come-true.
Starting to count the grace-gifts here:
1. Abiella, blooming with the spring
2. Flowers to pick and hold
3. Butterfly flitting about in the yard
4. Warm days and cool nights
5. Reading Bible stories to my 8-week-old girl
6. Learning the new steps to the dance of life
7. Laundry that stays unfolded for several days
8. Cousins seeing each other for the first time in weeks
9. A nephew who is RSV-free!
10. Family being healthy again
11. Brothers playing online computer games
12. Syrup on pancakes for lunch on Saturday
13. Sweet daughter nursing
14. Soft, sweet infant skin
15. Memory verses reminding me of God-promises
16. Sunday afternoon naps
17. 8 whole weeks of wonder
18. Washing cloth diapers and laying them out in the sun
19. Mommy sandwiches
20. Preparing for her first Easter
Linking up with Ann Voskamp today!
Mar 24, 2011
Abiella Kaitlyn
I read "All is grace," I examine my own life, and I see it is true. But.
I look at the life of a friend of my husband, someone I honestly barely know, and I can't see it. I cry tears long buried in my own heart for her; I wake to crying, my daughter needing food, and I cry trying to feed a starving soul. So many of my own hurts resurface, so many unanswered questions come calling again, and I pray healing Balm of Gilead over the soul I once was.
Because almost two years ago, my dreams and hopes were shattered.
I had wanted nothing more than to be a mommy, and it had looked like my desires were going to be filled. I was able to look at the baby aisles with excitement and not anxiousness. There was so much joy even in thinking that God chose me and my husband to have a baby!
And then eight days passed, and I started bleeding. The ultrasound showed no baby, and I was sent home. Two days later, my husband and I went back to the hospital and birthed the remains of our hope alone in the ER.
Devastated doesn't begin to describe how I felt, but I didn't question God's goodness nor His love for me. It happened, but it was fairly common. I named the baby Abiah, which means "God is my Father," to show that, though I was hurting, I still trusted. Slowly, I began to find my feet again. By the end of summer, I was almost happy again.
In September, I found that I was pregnant again, and once again, I was over the moon. God had given us a second chance! A fresh start in the fall-what a wonderful way to count down the days until spring! For four blissful days, I wondered once more in the beauty and mystery of early pregnancy. Then Thursday came. Thursday, with its hope and promise of the weekend, turned to despair and anxiety when I saw the blood.
The doctor, though, couldn't say if the baby would live. Too small for a heartbeat, but not too small for a picture. More bloodwork would have to be done. Results would be in on Monday. Call if anything changes.
Friday came, and there was even more bleeding. Still, the baby had not passed. Had hung on another day. Hope. But Saturday morning, before dawn, I felt this baby pass as well. Second from my womb given to God early. So very early. Monday's ultrasound confirmed it. Ronan, my "little seal" put on my womb-promising that there would be children.
At first, I had such a peace about it. I could thank God, see good in it. Then the questions came. The hard ones that no one can answer except God Himself. Aren't You supposed to be good? How is this good? How can You say You love me, when You take the very thing that I want most? The thing that I feel deep in my soul is my calling in life? How can this be part of Your plan? Your will?
The most haunting questioned His love. And I retreated. I said, "No, God." I would not count anything as joy because what joy could there be when two of my children died before I could even see them? When only God knew anything about them other than they were ours, mine. I retreated because it was easy.
Then again, I really did want answers. I wanted hope. I craved joy. At my deepest hurt, I said I hated God for what He had done, and there were no words that could calm my soul. But as I began looking for answers, I realized that no one wanted to give them to me. There were few comforting words outside of family ties, no matter how I craved them. So I found them where they were hidden: online. Bloggers like Angie Smith and pastors like Francis Chan spoke to my heart in ways that no one else had, and when friends and even church members had no words or spoke hurting words instead, God saw that my heart did have what it needed.
I slowly retreated into a world that blocked out the pain by focusing on the good: I read how suffering brings us closer to Christ, about how Christians are called to suffer for Christ's sake, and how doing so brings us even closer to the glory that God wants us to be. I reveled in how God takes the sufferings of this world and redeems it all for His glory. But I still did not see how He loved me.
Until. One morning I drove to school under one of the cloud-blankets that occasionally comes up. For some reason, I looked at the clouds, even though there never is anything seen in this particular kind of cloudy sky. And there it was, plain as day: a tiny baby being held in much larger hands. I cried tears of joy because I knew that God was sending me a love letter in those clouds, and through the tears, I watched the image, burning it into my mind, until a grove of trees covered it. Once I had passed the trees, I looked again and could not believe my eyes. There was another baby being covered with angel's wings, so tiny and precious. And I cried even harder because God had proven it: He loves me! He loves me enough to show me my babies, the ones I had never had a chance to see. He loves me enough to remember, and He loves me enough to allow me to share.
It would be a grave lie to say that I immediately found joy again, but I did think so at the time. Instead, I gradually opened myself to see the riches of His grace and the joy found therein.
And then, in May, just over a year since the first miscarriage, I once again found that I was pregnant. I was so cautious, so afraid, but I realized early on that I could not live in fear. So I gave my child up to the only One who could take care of the babe. Daily, hourly, I prayed for God to have His way. I prayed that God would do His will, no matter what that outcome would be.
Gradually, May became June, June became July, then the summer that seemed like it would last forever found its way into September, and we saw our little girl for the first time. So many tears of joy filled the next several months...and then it was February. And she was born. And she was here, our Abiella Kaitlyn, "God is my [pure] Father." My daily reminder that God's ways are pure, holy and He knows what He is doing. My daily reminder that God numbers our days, collects our tears in a bottle, knows our hurts and weaknesses, and still is daily transfiguring us from glory to glory.
And this is why I cry for the one whose baby was stillborn. This is why I ache for her, cry for her, pray for her. Because out of all the lessons God uses to perfect His children, the loss of a child is the hardest to bear. Because out of all the losses out there, losing a child who hasn't spent one day outside the womb is the hardest for others to understand.
The world doesn't go on for you, even when others are getting pregnant, having babies, and living. And once you have lost a child before it is born, there is the fear that you may have more that won't be. There is the thought, however dark, that you may not have been a good enough mother. That God doesn't like you. That you weren't good enough to be a mother. Lies that the enemy tells to make us second-guess and question. Lies that tear apart the already fragile heart.
My heart has heard the lies, but I see now what then I could not. That God gives so many daily gifts that to question His love seems ridiculous. That His grace is sufficient for me because His strength is made perfect in my weakness. That thanking Him for these grace-gifts bring unmerited, immeasurable joy. That even in my two miscarriages, I can find joy. For what other way would I know pain? What other way could I minister to others than by experiencing deep sorrow first-hand? And it's more than just practical application: I know for certain that I will see them in heaven. I know that I will never have to question their salvation. I know that God can take much better care of them than I ever could. I know that I have two less lives to worry about. And, most importantly, I would not have my daughter if I had either one of them. I would not have her smiles, her grins, or her personality. She was made at just the right time for just the right purpose, and I could not choose her siblings, no matter how much I miss them, over her.
Oh, my Abiella Kaitlyn, you are a beautiful promise, a breathtaking reminder of God's sovereignty and love.
Have you heard about the She Speaks Conference--a conference for women who seek to connect the hearts of women to His heart-- a place for those who desire to serve Him as he leads--a place I cannot see myself--a place He whispers I need to see...
This post has been submitted for a scholarship to go simply because God, using this special writer and lovely woman, called me to come out of my comfort zone...Won't you join me? It's getting a little too crowded in here...
I look at the life of a friend of my husband, someone I honestly barely know, and I can't see it. I cry tears long buried in my own heart for her; I wake to crying, my daughter needing food, and I cry trying to feed a starving soul. So many of my own hurts resurface, so many unanswered questions come calling again, and I pray healing Balm of Gilead over the soul I once was.
Because almost two years ago, my dreams and hopes were shattered.
I had wanted nothing more than to be a mommy, and it had looked like my desires were going to be filled. I was able to look at the baby aisles with excitement and not anxiousness. There was so much joy even in thinking that God chose me and my husband to have a baby!
And then eight days passed, and I started bleeding. The ultrasound showed no baby, and I was sent home. Two days later, my husband and I went back to the hospital and birthed the remains of our hope alone in the ER.
Devastated doesn't begin to describe how I felt, but I didn't question God's goodness nor His love for me. It happened, but it was fairly common. I named the baby Abiah, which means "God is my Father," to show that, though I was hurting, I still trusted. Slowly, I began to find my feet again. By the end of summer, I was almost happy again.
In September, I found that I was pregnant again, and once again, I was over the moon. God had given us a second chance! A fresh start in the fall-what a wonderful way to count down the days until spring! For four blissful days, I wondered once more in the beauty and mystery of early pregnancy. Then Thursday came. Thursday, with its hope and promise of the weekend, turned to despair and anxiety when I saw the blood.
The doctor, though, couldn't say if the baby would live. Too small for a heartbeat, but not too small for a picture. More bloodwork would have to be done. Results would be in on Monday. Call if anything changes.
Friday came, and there was even more bleeding. Still, the baby had not passed. Had hung on another day. Hope. But Saturday morning, before dawn, I felt this baby pass as well. Second from my womb given to God early. So very early. Monday's ultrasound confirmed it. Ronan, my "little seal" put on my womb-promising that there would be children.
At first, I had such a peace about it. I could thank God, see good in it. Then the questions came. The hard ones that no one can answer except God Himself. Aren't You supposed to be good? How is this good? How can You say You love me, when You take the very thing that I want most? The thing that I feel deep in my soul is my calling in life? How can this be part of Your plan? Your will?
The most haunting questioned His love. And I retreated. I said, "No, God." I would not count anything as joy because what joy could there be when two of my children died before I could even see them? When only God knew anything about them other than they were ours, mine. I retreated because it was easy.
Then again, I really did want answers. I wanted hope. I craved joy. At my deepest hurt, I said I hated God for what He had done, and there were no words that could calm my soul. But as I began looking for answers, I realized that no one wanted to give them to me. There were few comforting words outside of family ties, no matter how I craved them. So I found them where they were hidden: online. Bloggers like Angie Smith and pastors like Francis Chan spoke to my heart in ways that no one else had, and when friends and even church members had no words or spoke hurting words instead, God saw that my heart did have what it needed.
I slowly retreated into a world that blocked out the pain by focusing on the good: I read how suffering brings us closer to Christ, about how Christians are called to suffer for Christ's sake, and how doing so brings us even closer to the glory that God wants us to be. I reveled in how God takes the sufferings of this world and redeems it all for His glory. But I still did not see how He loved me.
Until. One morning I drove to school under one of the cloud-blankets that occasionally comes up. For some reason, I looked at the clouds, even though there never is anything seen in this particular kind of cloudy sky. And there it was, plain as day: a tiny baby being held in much larger hands. I cried tears of joy because I knew that God was sending me a love letter in those clouds, and through the tears, I watched the image, burning it into my mind, until a grove of trees covered it. Once I had passed the trees, I looked again and could not believe my eyes. There was another baby being covered with angel's wings, so tiny and precious. And I cried even harder because God had proven it: He loves me! He loves me enough to show me my babies, the ones I had never had a chance to see. He loves me enough to remember, and He loves me enough to allow me to share.
It would be a grave lie to say that I immediately found joy again, but I did think so at the time. Instead, I gradually opened myself to see the riches of His grace and the joy found therein.
And then, in May, just over a year since the first miscarriage, I once again found that I was pregnant. I was so cautious, so afraid, but I realized early on that I could not live in fear. So I gave my child up to the only One who could take care of the babe. Daily, hourly, I prayed for God to have His way. I prayed that God would do His will, no matter what that outcome would be.
Gradually, May became June, June became July, then the summer that seemed like it would last forever found its way into September, and we saw our little girl for the first time. So many tears of joy filled the next several months...and then it was February. And she was born. And she was here, our Abiella Kaitlyn, "God is my [pure] Father." My daily reminder that God's ways are pure, holy and He knows what He is doing. My daily reminder that God numbers our days, collects our tears in a bottle, knows our hurts and weaknesses, and still is daily transfiguring us from glory to glory.
And this is why I cry for the one whose baby was stillborn. This is why I ache for her, cry for her, pray for her. Because out of all the lessons God uses to perfect His children, the loss of a child is the hardest to bear. Because out of all the losses out there, losing a child who hasn't spent one day outside the womb is the hardest for others to understand.
The world doesn't go on for you, even when others are getting pregnant, having babies, and living. And once you have lost a child before it is born, there is the fear that you may have more that won't be. There is the thought, however dark, that you may not have been a good enough mother. That God doesn't like you. That you weren't good enough to be a mother. Lies that the enemy tells to make us second-guess and question. Lies that tear apart the already fragile heart.
My heart has heard the lies, but I see now what then I could not. That God gives so many daily gifts that to question His love seems ridiculous. That His grace is sufficient for me because His strength is made perfect in my weakness. That thanking Him for these grace-gifts bring unmerited, immeasurable joy. That even in my two miscarriages, I can find joy. For what other way would I know pain? What other way could I minister to others than by experiencing deep sorrow first-hand? And it's more than just practical application: I know for certain that I will see them in heaven. I know that I will never have to question their salvation. I know that God can take much better care of them than I ever could. I know that I have two less lives to worry about. And, most importantly, I would not have my daughter if I had either one of them. I would not have her smiles, her grins, or her personality. She was made at just the right time for just the right purpose, and I could not choose her siblings, no matter how much I miss them, over her.
Oh, my Abiella Kaitlyn, you are a beautiful promise, a breathtaking reminder of God's sovereignty and love.
Have you heard about the She Speaks Conference--a conference for women who seek to connect the hearts of women to His heart-- a place for those who desire to serve Him as he leads--a place I cannot see myself--a place He whispers I need to see...
This post has been submitted for a scholarship to go simply because God, using this special writer and lovely woman, called me to come out of my comfort zone...Won't you join me? It's getting a little too crowded in here...
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