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.

FMF: Waiting in Faith

Joining in for a 5 minute Friday free-write with Kate and the gang

Prompt of the week: WAIT


GO:

I can't wait!

I can't wait until I can feel this tiny baby moving and kicking and reassuring Mama that all is well.

I can't wait until this awkward little bump grows big enough that I look pregnant and not just bloated or fat.

I can't wait to find out if June Bug, Mikayla, and Selah are getting a baby brother, or another sister.

I can't wait to be waddling around big and pregnant, complaining about back aches and cankles.

I can't wait to have a baby shower and wash all the tiny precious onesies and sleepers and itty-bitty mittens and socks.

Most of all I can't wait until a doctor places a screaming bundle of life into my arms and gives congratulations instead of condolences.

In the meantime: faith, not fear. FAITH, not fear. That is my mantra for 2015, and I repeat it to myself every time the enemy creeps in and whispers that maybe I can't trust God because after all, didn't He let me down before?

In the waiting place, FAITH, not fear.

STOP

My Letter to Grief

I got the idea for writing a letter to grief from Kate Motaung, who encouraged readers to write their own letters. I began this letter several weeks ago, but it got to be too raw, and I had to back away for a bit, but I came back today feeling ready to tackle it. So here goes.



Dear Grief,

Over the past nine months I have tried holding you at arms length. I have tried bringing you in for a snuggle session. I have tried ignoring you and trying to pretend you were never there. I have gotten angry at you. I have coddled you like a newborn kitten and fed you until you became a tiger who nearly turned to devour me. I have researched you. I have tried to plumb your depths. I have ridden out your waves, even when I nearly drowned. You could not take me under.

Grief, you came into my life that early morning in the Emergency Room of the local hospital when I stared at the screen of the ultrasound machine, eyes searching for my wiggly baby and only finding a still stone instead. Strange that there should be a stone there. Where was my baby? Was she hiding? There must be some mistake. And then when I should have been hearing the delightful wild-stallion cantering clip-clop of her precious heartbeat, there was only silence. And I knew. I knew she was gone, and you crept in and made yourself known. An unwelcome guest in a place that should have been filled with hope and reassurance. You showed your ugly head that morning.

 You weren't through with me yet. In fact, you were only getting started. You embraced me as I was caught in the throes of contractions which should usher forth life, but instead were only bringing forth death. You held me as my precious daughter slipped into this world silent and still, when the only cries were that of a mother whose heart was ripped in two.

You were gracious to me those first few weeks. You let me ignore you for a bit; hold you away from me. But slowly, slowly, bit by bit you wormed your way in. You twisted into my heart and left it open and raw and bleeding. Scabs have formed now, but every so often you like to come and rip the scabs off as well, bringing up all the pain all over again.

You've been a constant shadow to me these nine months, sometimes almost disappearing for brief times when the joyful sun shines so brightly straight ahead that I can ignore you for a while. At other times you stretch large and spooky and make me want to hide under the covers like a frightened child. Especially now, that new life is growing in my womb. Now I am scared of you more than ever. I know your full power, and I don't want you coming close again. And yet I am powerless to stop you.

But I don't have to. I can live with you. I can let you come and go, ebb and flow, because I know that there is one in me who is greater than you or anything else in the world. He beat death. And because He beat death, He will one day banish you, grief, forevermore.

So I can close my eyes tonight, snuggle with my pillow, and sleep in peace knowing that though you can be so all-encompassing some days, you are merely a constant companion until the day I see Jesus and He strips you off of me and clothes me instead in pure joy.

Until then,

A Grieving Mama choosing to live by FAITH, not fear

Day 24 and FMF: Dare

Day 24 of 31 Days of Healing, and Five Minute Friday

I realize it is Saturday, the 25th, and I am behind. My husband unexpectedly has a week off work, so I have been making the most of it to spend time with him and haven't gotten to blog the past few days.

So here goes, 5 minutes of free-writing on the word Dare.

GO:
When I was a kid, I would always choose the dare. I was fearless. I was the one who rode her bike down the biggest hills, feet not even on the pedals, skidding to a stop, heart pounding, with a grin plastered on my face.

Then something changed. I became the reserved one, always playing it safe. Always cautious and following the rules to the letter.

I've begun to find my daring side again. I guess after losing something so important to you, that you love so much, that hurts so hard, and seeing that you CAN still breathe, everything else loses the scariness.

Well, almost everything - I have become more fearful of June Bug's health and safety. Losing her would be the only thing more painful than losing Mikayla and Selah.

But everything else  - financial trouble, issues at work, worrying about what people might think. None of those things matter anymore. I will take the Dare and tell it to bring its worst, because it can't touch the depths of what I have already faced.

STOP.

Day 20: Fear

Day 20 of 31 days of healing, joining with Kate for a 5-minute free-write on the topic of Fear.


GO
Fear is something I battle against all the time now. Fear that I will never get pregnant again. Fear that I will, and will lose another baby. Fear that something will happen to June Bug.

I remember writing before about waiting for the other shoe to drop. Feeling like God had not protected me from the huge hurt of saying good-bye to Mikayla, so why would He protect me from any number of other hurts as well?

I no longer feel that way. I'm no longer holding my breath in fear. I am winning the fight, in His strength. I am choosing to trust when fear comes creeping in. I am learning to preach the gospel to myself over and over again and remember God's faithfulness and love.

I don't know if the fear will ever go away forever, but I do know now that perfect love drives out fear. When I look at the circumstances, I can't help but fear, like the disciples in the boat looking at the storm and crying, "Save us or we'll drown!" But like the disciples, I know where to turn. Jesus is my only hope, and it is resting in His love alone that will drive out the fear and fill my heart with faith.

I don't know what God holds in store for me or my family, but I do know that He is good all the time, and His love endures forever.

STOP

Ps. I would appreciate prayers tonight as my husband is having some hard conversations at work which could drastically effect the direction our family takes over the next few months and years. But I know that God is working all things together for good!

Day 6: What I Know for Sure

Day 6 of 31 Days of Healing

In the wake of tragedy, so often we let our emotions run wild. Comfort and peace, however, are found in what I know about God and His plans for my life. I decided today to follow Kate's prompt: Know, and make a list of truths to repeat over to myself when I am tempted to give in to despair and anxiety and worry.

I KNOW:

• That God is on His throne  Isaiah 46:9-10  "I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me, declaring the end from the beginning and from ancient times things not yet done, saying, ‘My counsel shall stand, and I will accomplish all my purpose.’"

• That He is working all things together for good (Romans 8:28)

• That my babies are in heaven, free from suffering in the arms of Jesus Revelation 21:4 "He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

• That He who began a good work in me WILL carry it through to completion (Philippians 1:6)

• That I do not need to be anxious about anything, but rather I need to in everything by prayer and petition and with thanksgiving present my requests to God (Philippians 4:6)

There are so many things I don't know, and so many questions I still have, but I do KNOW that God is good all the time, and all the time, God is good. 

Day 2: Point of View

I'm back for day 2 of the 31-day writing challenge, and decided to also join Kate Motaung doing a five-minute free-write on the topic: View.

GO:

Why is it so easy for us to fix our view on the past, dwelling on what has already taken place, mulling over the "what if"s and the "if only"s. Wondering if maybe things could have, should have, would have been different if...

It's also easy to fix my view on the future, giving in to anxiety and dwelling on fears of the unknown. Fears that history will repeat itself and I will be asked to give up a baby too soon again.

Why is it so hard sometimes to view everything through the proper lens? The glasses that God wants us to put on?

Instead of wondering about and lamenting the past, I should be focusing on what I can and should be doing right now. Spending time in the word. Building relationships. Worshiping. Fishing for men. Making disciples.

Instead of worrying about and fearing the future, I should be looking toward eternity. Remembering always that this life is not the end, and my treasure must not be found here where moth and rust destroy and thieves break in and steal and death snatches away life and seems to have the last laugh. Instead I should be building up treasure in heaven where moth and rust do not destroy and thieves cannot break in a steal and where LIFE has swallowed up death in a final and decisive victory.

Lord, grant me your point of view.

STOP

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.

Five Minute Friday: Because

 


Joining the 5-minute flash-write. I look forward to Thursday nights to get me through my week. This week's going to be a rough one, though.

Prompt of the week: Because

GO

Why? 

So many questions without answers. Why did I start bleeding? Why couldn't the doctors do anything to stop it? Why didn't I go on bed rest sooner? Why didn't I get tested after June Bug's birth? Why did my baby have to die? Why did I never even hold her, or take pictures, or even touch my precious girl? Why did God let me get pregnant again only to take away that baby, too? Why didn't my insurance card come sooner so I could have gone to the doctors sooner to get an action plan before it was too late? 

Why do I keep beating myself up over choices I made that were the best I could have done with the knowledge I had at the time?

And the only answer I get is the answer God gave to Job. Because. Because I AM. 

Because God is sovereign, and His ways are not my ways. Because the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, and all I can do is say, sing, shout, "Blessed be the Name of the Lord!" 

Someday I will know the because to all of my whys, but for now I am content to cast all my whys and what ifs on the I AM. 

STOP

Five Minute Friday: Ready

Joining in the five minute Friday unedited five minute free-write 

Prompt of the week: Ready

Ready or not, here I GO:

Here in hurricane territory, we talk a lot about being ready for storms. Water, food, candles, shutters and shelters prepared for the fury of the wind and rain. We can't always forecast life's storms, but we can be ready. We can prepare by filling our tanks with the water of life that will never leave us thirsty, by digging our teeth into the meat of the gospel, by looking to the light of the world, and wrapping ourselves into the strongest shelter there ever can be to protect us from the fury of sin and satan. 

"Are you sure you're ready? I mean, what if we didn't wait long enough? Do you think you're healed now?" 

Those were the questions my husband verbalized that had already been running through my head since I got a positive pregnancy test. 

The doctor said wait three to six months. It had been 4 when we conceived, nearly at 5 now (on Saturday). I took my iron pills, I never stopped taking the folic acid and prenatal vitamins, and I feel in pretty good shape now. It took a while to bounce back from nearly a month of bed rest combined with blood loss and giving birth, but I feel like I'm physically healed. 

The emotional part is harder. I don't know if I'm ready or not, but I trust God's timing that He won't give me anything without providing the grace to make me ready. I am ready, not because I have emotionally healed or the hurt is gone or I've gotten over it. I am ready because I know God goes with me on this journey, and He will carry me through. 

And I'll leave you with a song I've got on repeat over here tonight:

STOP.

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!

Five Minute Friday: Change

 


Prompt of the week: Change

GO:

It is amazing how quickly your life can change; how a woman can change from longing and hopeful but scared to hope too much, to ecstatic and filled with love and joy in a matter of seconds when those 2 pink lines pop up on the pregnancy test.

Or how she can change from ecstatic and filled with love and joy and hope, to devastated and broken and wondering how this could have just happened when they can't find a heartbeat.

How a missionary can change from being a doctor helping treat victims of an Ebola crisis to being a patient himself.

How an audience can change from seeing a comedian and laughing alongside him to seeing the ugly depths of depression.

How a young man can change from planning his college career to dead on the sidewalk full of bullets in a matter of 3 minutes.

Yes, life can change in an instant, and never be the same again. There are moments that leave you reeling. Change can rip your heart right out of your chest.

But what each life so desperately needs is a change. A change where the heart of stone melts into a heart of flesh.

What this sad and sin-soaked world needs is a change. A change in each individual's heart that will prompt change in a family, a community, a nation, a planet.

And I rest in knowing that NOTHING can change God's love. Not racism or bullets, not depression or suicide, not illness or disease, not stillbirth or aching hearts. God's love is greater than all of it.

God's love is the only thing that will never change. God's love is the only thing that will ever bring the change that we need.

Five Minute Friday: Exhale

GO:

I feel like I am holding my breathe. Like I have been holding my breathe for 3 months now. Holding my breathe and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

My baby died. After all the prayers and longing and begging, God decided it was better to take her from us. I'm holding my breathe waiting to see what else he'll take.

He took my job, but then I found a new (better) one, but I still feel like I'm waiting to find out something went wrong with the paperwork and the offer will be taken off the table.

My husband and I have (mostly) worked through our issues and stopped fighting and blaming one another, but I feel like I am walking around holding my breathe scared to say or do the wrong thing that will be the straw that breaks the camel's back and he will be gone.

The money that we have to pay to not get to take home our daughter is ridiculous, but we got a good payment plan and insurance covered their bit, but I'm waiting to find out we owe more than I thought, or insurance decided not to pay.

I worry. I worry a lot. I worry because I realize now that life can't and won't be easy and things can't and won't always go the way I want them to. Even the enormous things (so why should I think the little ones will?).

But then I realize I can't hold my breathe forever. I have to exhale sometime. So I breathe out all the worries and anxieties and stress, and breathe in pure grace, mercy, and love. I breathe out all my fears to my savior, and breathe in peace that passes understanding. His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me. I need to stop banging my head against the wall and just fall down on my knees.

And just breathe.

STOP.

Fear

I used to be afraid of needles.

I was so afraid of needles, that I passed out after getting a tetanus booster as a teenager. I looked away, gritted my teeth, and grimaced, forcing myself to take slow deep breathes whenever I needed a shot or blood draw or anything else involving needles. The worst were IVs. I hated when they put it in, I hated having it in, and I hated when they took it out.

I'm not afraid of needles anymore. Bring it. Poke me with all you've got.

At one point while I was pregnant with Mikayla, I had an IV in each arm, and got blood drawn 3 times in 2 days for various tests. The nurses were injecting antibiotics into those IVs every 6 hours, and I could feel it going into my veins. One hand turned all puffy and they had to re-do that IV in a different spot, and then the one on the other elbow started hurting really badly, so they moved it to my hand, but my elbow hurt for days afterwards.

There is a possibility that I will need daily injections when/if I get pregnant again to be able to carry a baby safely to term. Go ahead. Give me the needles.

I'm not afraid of needles anymore because I have faced something that inflicted far more pain and terror, and I am still standing. My fear of losing my child is so much more than my fear of needles, that I would endure poking myself with needles 100 times every day for 9 months and keeping multiple IVs in at all times if it would guarantee I would get to bring my baby home from the hospital to raise.

I know there are no guarantees in this life. I know even with as far as medicine has come, it is not so simple to say that a positive pregnancy test equals taking home a baby nine months later. And that scares me so much more than any needle ever could.

But I do know there are guarantees in the life to come. That I will get to spend eternity with my savior and my baby in a place needles will never be needed again for anything. Hallelujah!

5 Minute Friday: Messenger

GO:

A messenger. Do I have enough courage to be a messenger? One who might be used to bring messages of hope and healing to others? Will I go out on that limb and put myself out there in order to help others to know they are not alone?

Since Mikayla went to heaven, I have felt the desire to do something for other mothers who will most assuredly walk this horrible path after me. I want to comfort others with the same comfort I have received.

I haven't figured out the best way to go about it, but I do feel like there should be something for our local hospital to give to families to take home when they can't take home their precious babies. I was given nothing, and had to seek out resources on my own. Thankfully I found them, but how wonderful it would be to have been given a packet of them all at once.

I am not typically the organizer or go-getter. I am generally more content to sit in the sidelines and cheer on others, or help behind the scenes. But I feel like there aren't others to cheer or help right now, so maybe I need to be the one to rally some troops, to get the message out that there is a need to be filled. A need for mothers to not leave the hospital full of regrets and empty arms, but rather full of memories and recognition that their precious child lived and mattered and matters still.

A friend posted something on Facebook today about her business looking for causes or charities to raise money for. Maybe if I email her, that can be the beginning of something beautiful and healing for local loss moms. What am I afraid of?

How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news. I have a chance to bring a message of hope and compassion to those facing the most difficult days of their lives. So what is holding me back?

STOP.

P.s. I would love to hear some ideas in the comments section of what could be included in some type of packet for parents who experience miscarriage, stillbirth, or newborn loss. I was thinking maybe a teddy bear, baby blanket, brochure of local and on-line grief and loss resources, etc?

Walls

Face of Stone

This castle I've built up for so many years was built to keep you out. I cannot let you in. I cannot let you see the doubt, the fear, the pain, the sin. All you see is this faceless face of stone that protects me from the winds, but in the end the sun and rain still fall inside although I hide myself from you.

You cannot scale these walls,
You cannot break them down,
For you they will not fall,
They cannot speak a sound.

Sometimes I wish and dream I had not built these walls, I wish that I could scream and let these dry tears fall. I wish that I could let you in to let you heal my pain, my sin, but these walls are too thick and I've built them too tall for any, save one, to come in.

You cannot scale these walls,
You cannot break them down,
For you they will not fall,
They cannot speak a sound.

This one long ago defied the very gates of Hell. I know that only He can break me down, destroy these clumsy walls I've built, and make me new again. The one-in-three, it's only He can open up my heart.

He can scale these walls,
He can break them down,
Triumphant He'll come in,
And raze them to the ground,

And set me free from me to be whomever He desires,
Oh bring your fires,
Oh conquering hero, come.