What do I know? Nothing.

Just when I think I know where I am going, that I have it all planned out... God shows me different.

As most of you know, my adult life has been somewhat consumed with struggle of some sort. From infertility to miscarriage, I have desperately cried out to the Lord for more children, cried out over children that I have lost, and cried out for resolution one way or another. It has been a long road full of ups and downs. One that I respect, acknowledge, and admire in a way, but one that I would never want to re-live again simply because it hurt so bad.

Once we lost our last child, I sank into a deep depression. I took months and months to come up for air again - to reach the surface, where the living were. I spent days longing for relief and to be able to breathe without my heart hurting while doing so. After many prayers, A LOT of learning and searching, and God's precious healing touch - I finally woke up one day and felt well, happy again. There was a sort of renewal that had happened, yet nothing had changed. I still did not have the baby that had died - that I had longed for - but I had something else - JOY. I had JOY without the baby that I wanted and I knew that only that kind of joy comes from God. I give you all the praise Father...

It was nice knowing that the majority of the struggle was behind me and that He was binding up my heart - as He promises to in scripture - one stitch at time. Don't get me wrong, those stitches can be quite painful... the jab of the needle and the pulling and tugging of the thread... but the bound up wound at the end of the lesson is well worth the pain. Although I never desired to go through any of what I endured, I also know that I would not be who I am without the struggle and I would not know our precious Savior the way I do, had He not set me on this particular road. I now thank Him for every tear, for every disappointment, for every year that I had to wait because every step led me to Him. AND to the abundant life that only He promises. I received that inexplicable Joy only because of His love. Again, I thank you Father for all that you have shown me - I am forever grateful.

Now, over three years have passed since I lost Faith and even though I miss her terribly, I have moved on. Yes, there is life after losing a baby. I didn't believe that for a long time but I definitely do now. The last year in particular has been just wonderful. I have basked in the gift of family and dived into parenting my precious children, Jace and Savannah. Chris and I continue to grow in our relationship and I can honestly say that all the struggle we endured just made our bond stronger. I began working full-time at the kid's school and enjoyed the fellowship I found there with strong Christian women. I developed new friendships that I found fun, extremely supportive, and exciting and realized that God had a different life planned for me that I thought all along. Sometimes, when you sit back and look over the past years, you see it all come together and you are MORE thankful than ever. We tend to only see the small puzzle pieces as we are walking along our path, but He can see the finished puzzle way ahead of time. As I sat this March and looked back on what I thought was the "finished puzzle" of my struggle with infertility, miscarriage, and pregnancy, I was completely satisfied. Completely content. Completely thankful. I was happy to move on to another chapter in my life - one where getting pregnant didn't consume my every thought. Hallelujah! Where babies and breastfeeding and diaper changing were all part of the past. Where I totally enjoyed having the two kids I had and watching them grow up to be independent and self-sufficient - without longing for more. Where I was beginning to be "me" again... more than just a mommy and a wife (although that is my favorite part!) A Christian woman... a person in and of myself... a friend... a woman who had survived infertility... a teacher... a traveler, even...

And then, He did it again.

Just when I thought I knew just where I was headed - when I had it all planned out - He pulled a fast one on me.

In April - the day before Easter to be exact - I found out that I was pregnant.
Let's sit for a second and let that sink in, shall we?

Pregnant, Lord? Really? At 36 years old? When I am completely content, have moved on, and am fine NOT being pregnant, you then give me another child? What in the world?

Remembering Faith...

Thank you to Carly in Australia who has a wonderful ministry - To Write Their Names in the Sand. This ministry is used while remembering little ones who have passed on. What a blessing she is to those who mourn and hurt as they long for the babies who rest in arms of Jesus now. Thank you Carly for remembering Faith. This picture means so much to me. As we approach what would have been her 2nd birthday, I am reminded of what I don't have but I rest in knowing what I do - a God that loves me beyond words. May she rest in His precious Agape love until I can get there to hold her.

Remembering Faith...

Phone calls from hell.... Our Story, Part 16

Have you ever received a phone call from hell? I have.
You see, when you are a deeply troubled, weeping, depressed, and mourning mother of a child that you never got to meet and who seemed to have been ripped from your womb too early for your understanding, any phone call from another who tells you she is pregnant seems to be from hell.... I guarantee you. I know this sounds awful - probably not the nicest of ways to put it but I promise you, that is how I felt when I received them. I know others who have experienced the same calls and they assure me that they too dread those calls - they are completely and utterly unbearable. These particular calls that I am speaking of came right after Christmas - only 4 months after I lost Faith and while I was in a very bad place. And they were from two very special people in my life that I love deeply which makes this post harder than I thought to write down. Those calls came from my best friend and my precious niece.

Satan was having a field day with me and the thoughts that I had during the weeks following those phone calls were heart-breaking. How did I become this person, I wondered? How could I be so cruel? What I knew and believed about God and my life deep down in my heart was being removed by fear, doubt, pain, and lies. The insatiable pain that I was experiencing was completely ruling my life and I desperately wished that those women were not pregnant. Not because I wanted them to hurt - I never wished that. It was just that I wanted to stop hurting and the thought of them growing babies and feeling those babies inside them while mine laid in a box somewhere was more than I could take. I was crumbling... fading away... silently but surely. Very few knew of my pain. Very few knew the dark place that I had descended. I cried for hours and hours and hours. I couldn't tell anyone how I really felt - what kind of Christian and Christ-follower could I be when I had such horrible thoughts? I had proclaimed Christ mighty and awesome and had stayed strong throughout my battle with infertility until victory came through Savannah's birth. How could I explain to everyone that I was turning my back on what I knew and I was allowing the pain to take over? I was passionately sad. I was deeply troubled. I was losing sight of what was Right and Good. I was spiraling into a deep depression and I wasn't sure if I could ever get out.

As I look back on those months, I cry even now. I was so beyond devastated and I could not see clearly the road ahead. It was a terrific pit. A deep dark pit from hell itself. How in the world could I ever recover after such a devastating blow?

God Provides... Our Story - Part 15

Forgive me if the following content is a bit depressing and hard to handle, but it is what it is and it is a part of our story...

When we left the hospital, we had to make a decision about what to do with our baby. We could either sign to have the remains sent home with us for a official burial or we could allow Seton (which is a Christian/Catholic hospital who is pro-life) to bury Faith along side other little ones who passed away early in their little lives. I looked to my husband to make the decision. I was so spent that I felt I could not make any more decisions. I was still in shock and numb...

My husband was very adamant that we should not bring the baby home with us and since I know my husband as well as I do, I know exactly why. He knew that it would most likely prolong my grief knowing that the baby was in my hands - literally - and that I was now in charge of doing something with her remains. You see, Chris is very cut and dry - there is no gray with him - it is either black or white and no shade in between and to him, our baby was gone. No longer with us. Already in heaven, in the arms of Jesus, and all that was left here was a shell of who she use to be. He did not want to prolong anything - especially my grief and since he is always looking our for me, he informed the nurses that we would allow Seton to handle the burial. I was in agreement. I signed the papers and asked when I could visit the grave sight. The nurse told me that it would take about a week or so for everything to be finalized and that someone would call me and let me know the exact place of burial along with a plot number. So, we packed up and left the hospital - heading home to my two kiddos who were waiting anxiously for mommy to return. Oh, I must admit, it was sad. I had totally gotten use to the idea of being a mom to three kids and now I was having to go back to being a mom of just two. Not that it wasn't enough - just that the thought was so hard and it hurt to leave that day without my second little girl. But life had to go on....

Weeks past and I heard nothing from the hospital. They hadn't called and to be honest, either had I. I had picked up right where I had left off and started back into our daily life and daily routine. School had already begun for my son and he was now in third grade! My daughter was growing like a weed and I was enjoying being home with her. I was attending Bible study again and having my daily devotionals every morning with my Bible and coffee in hand. All in all - things were feeling pretty normal. I was going through life without really mourning. I felt pretty good and guess I attributed it all to God. I thought, "wow, how am I functioning? I am not usually this strong - I guess I have just grown in my faith enough and that God is allowing me to move on without too much strife". Oh, how I was wrong... this was just the calm before the storm.

About 2 months after the miscarriage and D&C, I decided to call the hospital to see where Faith was buried. I wasn't planning on going there at that very moment but knew that one day, I would need to go. As I finished up my devotional that morning, I sat on my couch - in the same place that I sat EVERY morning of EVERY day and made the phone call. All was quiet in my house. Jace was at school, Savannah was still asleep along with my hubby and it was just me, God, and my coffee. I called Seton and this is how the conversation went:

Me: "Yes, I recently had a miscarriage and gave permission for the hospital to bury our baby. They told me they would call with a plot number, etc. a while back but I hadn't heard anything. Can you help me find where our baby is?"
Nurse: "When did you have the D&C?"
Me: "August 14th"
Nurse: "Hold on one moment."
After what seemed like a lifetime, she finally returned."
Nurse: "Um, mam? I am sorry but your baby has not been buried yet."
Me - stunned: "Um, excuse me, what?"
Nurse: "Uh, yes mam, your baby has still not been buried."
Me: "May I ask why???"
Nurse: "Oh sweetie, to be honest, they wait until they have a large number of babies who have passed away and then they bury them all together. The remains are still here but will be buried soon. We will call with the plot number as soon as we have it."

I couldn't move. I couldn't even muster up a "thank you" to that poor woman. They had just told me that my baby - MY BABY - was in a box somewhere deteriorating away, waiting to be put in the ground MONTHS after she passed away? I sat in silence, starring into space. And finally, I began to cry - really cry - for the very first time since I left that hospital 8 weeks prior.

My baby - my flesh and blood - my precious little one is sitting in a box somewhere with a bunch of other poor babies who died as well - just waiting for someone to lay them to rest. What kind of sick joke is this? I was devastated and as I began to get more and more upset, I just finally closed my eyes and began to passionately pray...

"Where are You God?!!!!
In all this, where are You?
Why did You allow this to happen?
Why?
Why is my baby in a box somewhere and not growing in my belly?
Why did this happen to me!
Tell me!!!
Where are you? Why can't I understand....
WHERE ARE YOU, God????!!!!!"

I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and then I opened my eyes...
And right where I sat on EVERY morning of EVERY day before this particular day I saw this...







Never before had I seen this image. Never before had the light of sun reflected in such a precious and miraculous way. Never before had He sent such an unmistakably sign of His love and His understanding. But on this morning and in this minute, He moved the sun just for me, that I might see that He was right where He needed to be...

Where was He?
I asked and His answered...

He was right there. (Why did I ever question Him?)
He was right there with me all along.
He was right there with her in that box. He was right there with Faith in Heaven. He was right there catching every tear. He was right there... He was right there all along.

It was a grueling day but as I look back on it I see that once again, in the depths of my most horrific pain, He was there and He provided. On a day when the pain of her death FINALLY became a reality, He provided a tangible sign of His love for me to cling to and I praise Him for it.

Let me go ahead and say that the months to follow were the most painful of my life as I sunk into a very deep depression. All that I had read about grieving mothers who had suffered miscarriages explained that most women will have a period of shock and numbness before they move on to grieving the baby that they lost. It was most definitely true for me. I didn't experience true grief until many months following her death but I tried to always remember this particular morning when the God of the Universe decided to converse with little ol' me.

Take my word for it - nothing can ease the pain of a hurting child like the touch of God - believe me. And on that morning, He appeared to me right when I needed Him the most.

Oh thank you Father.