I am sorry for the long silence. In the latter part of my pregnancy I didn't know what to write except that I was fighting the fear, frequently praying for the baby to kick so I would know she was okay.
And then finally, on July 31, our little rainbow Chickadee decided the time was right to hatch. My water broke at 10am as I was on the way out the door for my 40 week appointment, and Chickadee let out her first scream at 7:55pm and it was just about the most beautiful sound this Mama has ever heard.
My Chickadee is 4 months old now, rolling over, grabbing at her toes, and smiling and laughing at everyone she sees. We had a rough start to breastfeeding, battling thrush, overactive letdown, reflux, and milk protein sensitivity, but I am pleased to say we're still going strong even though she's had to have a few bottles of formula when I started back to work until I figured out the whole pumping thing.
I wish I could say that my heart is healed and no longer has a gaping hole, but I cannot. What I can say is that the rest of my heart has grown and stretched and been filled up with joy once again. There is still a hint of bitterness in all the sweets (like washing the "baby's first Christmas" outfit that should have been worn last December, or having a photo shoot of my daughters with only a bear where Mikayla and Selah should have been), but I am also seeing new sweetness in the bitter. And through it all, I find myself clinging to and calling on my savior all the more. I am so grateful that He has allowed us to find joy and light once again.
Showing posts with label Rainbow. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rainbow. Show all posts
Thursday, December 3, 2015
Sunday, June 28, 2015
FMF: Dream
Dreams.
Dreams can mean things we see while we are sleeping. I have strange dreams while pregnant, like the one where my husband turned into a giraffe...
Dreams can mean things we wish for or hope for. Right now my dream is to hold a living, breathing, squirming, screaming baby in my arms and actually get to bring her home.
Dreams can turn into nightmares. I've lived through two of that kind. Twice I have dreamed of bringing home a new baby and ended up with empty arms and two holes in my heart.
I find in these last few weeks of pregnancy that the fear is beginning to creep up again. I do not want this beautiful dream to change into a fearsome nightmare yet again. I find myself over-analyzing every tiny symptom, questioning whether or not I should go in to Labor and Delivery for each little thing.
I am having to remind myself several times daily that I need to choose FAITH over FEAR. I need to hold on to the beautiful dream, and take the nightmare I fear to the Lord in prayer and leave it at His feet. I need to repeat Philippians 4:6 to myself again and again: Do NOT be anxious about ANYthing, but in EVERYthing by prayer and petition, with THANKSgiving, present your requests to God.
Friday, June 5, 2015
FMF: The Gift of Discomfort
Joining Kate for a 5-minute free write called Five Minute Friday. This week's prompt: Gift.
GO:
Life truly is a gift. And after experiencing loss, the preciousness of the gift shines through even brighter.
I am currently 32 weeks pregnant with my rainbow baby, whom I have nicknamed Chickadee.
32 weeks pregnant is not all pleasant.
I am getting more and more tired, yet finding it hard to get comfortable enough to sleep.
My emotions are all over the place.
Everything I eat gives me heartburn.
I wake up a million times a night to pee.
My hips are starting to ache, and by the end of the day my feet and ankles are swollen and sore.
And all of this is a beautiful gift!
I love the blessing of each and every discomfort and pain and difficulty because each one is due to the precious little gift that is growing in my womb. I will gladly take every one of these and more knowing that each day Chickadee is making Mommy uncomfortable is another day she is here on earth with me, growing and getting bigger and stronger and closer to being a squirmy little screaming bundle of joy in my arms.
I thank and praise my gracious loving Father for the beautiful gift of third trimester discomforts!
STOP
GO:
Life truly is a gift. And after experiencing loss, the preciousness of the gift shines through even brighter.
I am currently 32 weeks pregnant with my rainbow baby, whom I have nicknamed Chickadee.
32 weeks pregnant is not all pleasant.
I am getting more and more tired, yet finding it hard to get comfortable enough to sleep.
My emotions are all over the place.
Everything I eat gives me heartburn.
I wake up a million times a night to pee.
My hips are starting to ache, and by the end of the day my feet and ankles are swollen and sore.
And all of this is a beautiful gift!
I love the blessing of each and every discomfort and pain and difficulty because each one is due to the precious little gift that is growing in my womb. I will gladly take every one of these and more knowing that each day Chickadee is making Mommy uncomfortable is another day she is here on earth with me, growing and getting bigger and stronger and closer to being a squirmy little screaming bundle of joy in my arms.
I thank and praise my gracious loving Father for the beautiful gift of third trimester discomforts!
STOP
Sunday, May 3, 2015
Happy Bereaved Mothers Day!
A day that I never knew existed until last year is here - Bereaved Mothers Day. You learn a lot when you lose a child.
And I know some people would question my blog post title, because how can anyone ever put the words happy and bereaved in the same sentence? And yet, even as a bereaved mother, I have a lot to be happy about.
I am happy that I had the opportunity to carry my babies in my womb even if only for a short time.
I am happy that I have a sweet sunshine daughter June Bug who loves and remembers her baby sisters Mikayla and Selah.
I am happy each time I remember Mikayla's kicks, that hot chocolate always made her dance, and I am happy I got to see her face even though it was only a brief moment. Though all these memories are mingled with sadness, there is happiness there, too.
I am happy that Selah passed peacefully and at home instead of in a cold hospital bed with drama and needles and doctors and nurses. I am happy I had the time to truly say good-bye. Again, I wish the ending could have been different, but if she had to go away so soon, I am glad it happened the way it did.
I am happy that I have a rainbow on the way who will not in any way replace Mikayla or Selah, or make me love or miss them any less, but who will enrich our lives and bring joy to our family.
I am happy that I have a loving heavenly father who knows and understands the pain in my heart and offers His comfort and peace.
I am happy that the same heavenly father is holding and loving my precious babies for me until the day I get to see them again.
I am happy that through the wonders of the internet I have learned and found other beautiful and courageous mothers who are walking this most difficult of roads alongside me. I am happy we have each other for support and encouragement, and the healing power of a simple, "Me, too!"
So yes, I wish each and every mother who has ever had to say good-bye too soon to her precious child a very Happy (though probably bitter-sweet like so much of life) Bereaved Mother's Day.
Monday, March 30, 2015
The Mingling of Hope and Grief
Yesterday was Palm Sunday.
Last year on Palm Sunday I was in the hospital recovering from labor. I spent most of the day either in numb shock, or curled in a ball bawling my eyes out wishing I had died too.
This year I was at church, and only cried twice; when we sang songs about Jesus overcoming death.
Jesus overcame death. Mikayla's death has been conquered, destroyed, overthrown. She is alive and well. Selah, too. Not alive in my arms, but alive nonetheless.
Right now I am 22 weeks pregnant. I am a handful of days past the point where Mikayla left my womb for heaven. Mikayla's 1st heaven day is coming soon, and this Easter season will probably forever bring with it reminders of my sweet girl gone too soon. It's been an emotional week, and will probably continue to be an emotional time until I make it past April 13th.
And yet, the emotions are not all bad. The cup is not only full of grief. There is a sweetness to it as well. A sweetness that my babies are enjoying the wonder of heaven. A sweetness that this new little girl is wriggling around inside of me healthy and strong. A sweetness in knowing that nothing can ever separate us from the love of God. A sweet hope that all things are indeed working together for good.
So despite the triggers of grief that rip the scabs off my healing heart and cause the sorrow to flow once more, I grasp hold of the glorious promise that God is the healer, the giver and keeper of life, and I cry "Hosannah! Hosannah! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!" and the prayers flow out of my lips as the tears flow down my cheeks and the hands are lifted high in praise to the God who knows the pain of watching your child die, and the God who brings life out of death.
Last year on Palm Sunday I was in the hospital recovering from labor. I spent most of the day either in numb shock, or curled in a ball bawling my eyes out wishing I had died too.
This year I was at church, and only cried twice; when we sang songs about Jesus overcoming death.
Jesus overcame death. Mikayla's death has been conquered, destroyed, overthrown. She is alive and well. Selah, too. Not alive in my arms, but alive nonetheless.
Right now I am 22 weeks pregnant. I am a handful of days past the point where Mikayla left my womb for heaven. Mikayla's 1st heaven day is coming soon, and this Easter season will probably forever bring with it reminders of my sweet girl gone too soon. It's been an emotional week, and will probably continue to be an emotional time until I make it past April 13th.
And yet, the emotions are not all bad. The cup is not only full of grief. There is a sweetness to it as well. A sweetness that my babies are enjoying the wonder of heaven. A sweetness that this new little girl is wriggling around inside of me healthy and strong. A sweetness in knowing that nothing can ever separate us from the love of God. A sweet hope that all things are indeed working together for good.
So despite the triggers of grief that rip the scabs off my healing heart and cause the sorrow to flow once more, I grasp hold of the glorious promise that God is the healer, the giver and keeper of life, and I cry "Hosannah! Hosannah! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!" and the prayers flow out of my lips as the tears flow down my cheeks and the hands are lifted high in praise to the God who knows the pain of watching your child die, and the God who brings life out of death.
Monday, September 29, 2014
The Hurricane of Grief
I know a lot about hurricanes. I have lived the past 7 years on an island that is vulnerable to hurricanes, so I have had to become educated about them. I have learned that along with the high winds and heavy rains, storm surge is an often overlooked danger during a storm - the fact that the ocean water will rise up higher than normal, which when coupled with heavy rains causes additional flooding. I have also learned that in addition to the well-known "eye," the rain and winds in a hurricane come in "bands." There will be times when the wind is gentle and the rain sprinkling, followed by pouring rain and thrashing winds, over and over in a pattern.
I feel like my experience with Mikayla and Selah has been very much like a hurricane. When I began bleeding with Mikayla, it was like when the weather forecasters see a storm forming way out in the ocean. At that point everyone is wondering which direction it will really go. Will it come right at us for a direct hit? Will it miss us entirely, or fizzle out before it hits land? Or will it skirt by us giving us lots of wind and rain, but leave us with little or no damage?
With my hospitalization and my water breaking, it was looking more certain that the storm was coming our way. There were still no guarantees - we've seen several hurricanes that looked like they would hit us dead-on that have curved at the last minute and spared us. It was time to fill up the pantry, batten down the hatches, and put up the shutters. In spiritual terms, it meant filling up on gospel truths and God's faithful promises, and sending up prayers and petitions.
When I went into labor at not quite 22 weeks, I knew the storm was centered right on us. With a hurricane, this would be the time to fill up the bathtub and sinks and all available containers with water, and pull out the candles and flashlights. With a stillbirth, this was a time of crying out to God to spare me if possible, and to fill me with His presence and His light to bring me through the storm and its aftermath.
Just like the wind and rains, the grief comes in waves and bands. It will ease up for a bit, and then out of the blue hit me like a tree branch and knock me on my knees.
Not everyone in a hurricane will pass through the eye. Only where the hurricane passes directly over will there be a true calm in the midst of the storm. They say the most dangerous part of a hurricane is directly after the eye passes. The reason for this is two-fold. First, the strongest winds are in the eyewall just behind the eye of the storm, and second, some people will be lulled into a false sense of security by the calm blue skies outside as the eye is passing over, and they will venture out of their shelters and begin assessing the damage that has been done only to be caught unaware by the remainder of the storm.
My pregnancy with Selah was a bit like being in the eye of the storm. I could see the sun shining outside, and blue sky peeking through the clouds. Thankfully I knew enough to stay inside my shelter of the Almighty's arms even during this calm. I did not let the prayers stop, or give up on feasting on the Word of God.
When the eyewall hit of losing Selah, it was a double grief. A grief for the loss of another precious baby, and the loss of the calm and hope I had experienced during those weeks I knew Selah was with us.
I am now passing through the back side of the storm. I don't know how much longer it will be until it passes over. The grief is still coming in bands, some stronger, some calmer. My heart is still being battered and bruised.
But I know I will make it through the storm. Because my life is built on a firm foundation, and is capped with God's mighty hand, it will not fall. Even before hurricane season, when building a house where hurricanes may blow, they must be built on a firm foundation, with proper construction and a strong roof to withstand the winds and the rain and the surge. Without that foundation, the house would be washed away.
Clinging to my rock.
I feel like my experience with Mikayla and Selah has been very much like a hurricane. When I began bleeding with Mikayla, it was like when the weather forecasters see a storm forming way out in the ocean. At that point everyone is wondering which direction it will really go. Will it come right at us for a direct hit? Will it miss us entirely, or fizzle out before it hits land? Or will it skirt by us giving us lots of wind and rain, but leave us with little or no damage?
With my hospitalization and my water breaking, it was looking more certain that the storm was coming our way. There were still no guarantees - we've seen several hurricanes that looked like they would hit us dead-on that have curved at the last minute and spared us. It was time to fill up the pantry, batten down the hatches, and put up the shutters. In spiritual terms, it meant filling up on gospel truths and God's faithful promises, and sending up prayers and petitions.
When I went into labor at not quite 22 weeks, I knew the storm was centered right on us. With a hurricane, this would be the time to fill up the bathtub and sinks and all available containers with water, and pull out the candles and flashlights. With a stillbirth, this was a time of crying out to God to spare me if possible, and to fill me with His presence and His light to bring me through the storm and its aftermath.
Just like the wind and rains, the grief comes in waves and bands. It will ease up for a bit, and then out of the blue hit me like a tree branch and knock me on my knees.
Not everyone in a hurricane will pass through the eye. Only where the hurricane passes directly over will there be a true calm in the midst of the storm. They say the most dangerous part of a hurricane is directly after the eye passes. The reason for this is two-fold. First, the strongest winds are in the eyewall just behind the eye of the storm, and second, some people will be lulled into a false sense of security by the calm blue skies outside as the eye is passing over, and they will venture out of their shelters and begin assessing the damage that has been done only to be caught unaware by the remainder of the storm.
My pregnancy with Selah was a bit like being in the eye of the storm. I could see the sun shining outside, and blue sky peeking through the clouds. Thankfully I knew enough to stay inside my shelter of the Almighty's arms even during this calm. I did not let the prayers stop, or give up on feasting on the Word of God.
When the eyewall hit of losing Selah, it was a double grief. A grief for the loss of another precious baby, and the loss of the calm and hope I had experienced during those weeks I knew Selah was with us.
I am now passing through the back side of the storm. I don't know how much longer it will be until it passes over. The grief is still coming in bands, some stronger, some calmer. My heart is still being battered and bruised.
But I know I will make it through the storm. Because my life is built on a firm foundation, and is capped with God's mighty hand, it will not fall. Even before hurricane season, when building a house where hurricanes may blow, they must be built on a firm foundation, with proper construction and a strong roof to withstand the winds and the rain and the surge. Without that foundation, the house would be washed away.
Clinging to my rock.
Monday, September 8, 2014
Welcome to the Roller Coaster!
Well, I don't know where to start so I'll just come out and say it: We're expecting! June-Bug and Mikayla will (Lord Willing) be big sisters in May!
The emotions are all. over. the. place. One minute I am elated and so excited I could burst, and the next I am weeping and fearful and over-analyzing every little twinge.
I have decided that the only way to hang on is to take it day by day. Each morning, I am going to wake up and thank God for another day to carry this precious child. If one morning happens to be my last and this rainbow dissolves in more storm clouds, then so be it. I know where my shelter lies, and He is strong enough to see me through any storm that may come my way.
Either way, this baby will get to live; either with me and his/her father and big sister June Bug; or with Jesus and his/her Heavenly father, and big sister Mikayla.
God is good all the time! All the time, God is good!
The emotions are all. over. the. place. One minute I am elated and so excited I could burst, and the next I am weeping and fearful and over-analyzing every little twinge.
I have decided that the only way to hang on is to take it day by day. Each morning, I am going to wake up and thank God for another day to carry this precious child. If one morning happens to be my last and this rainbow dissolves in more storm clouds, then so be it. I know where my shelter lies, and He is strong enough to see me through any storm that may come my way.
Either way, this baby will get to live; either with me and his/her father and big sister June Bug; or with Jesus and his/her Heavenly father, and big sister Mikayla.
God is good all the time! All the time, God is good!
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