Wordless Wednesday {Today He Turns Two!!}

The Good, the Bad, and the Faithful

Tonight we had a fantastic Bible study with a young couple that is quickly becoming very dear to our hearts = good!  :)

Tonight our garage door broke; and despite Jeff's handyman knack for fixing things and his hours of work on it, it's a lost cause...and garage doors are expensive, so I hear = bad.  :(

Tonight I looked out from my side porch and saw the brilliant crepe myrtle blooming extravagantly = good!

Tonight I noticed the moon, rising over the trees to the east of us = faithful.

Tonight I remembered how the Lord carried His people from Egypt through the wilderness and into the promised land...and I felt His strong, tender hands lifting me = more faithful than the moon.

Hope Deferred, Part Three

Part One is here.

Part Two is here.

Earlier today, I stood by the counter in the office of my midwives, glanced down, saw the stack of free pregnancy magazines lying there, noticed the cover picture of a gorgeous pregnant woman showing off her baby bump, and thought, "A midwives' office is no place for a woman who's just had a miscarriage."

I love those midwives; and I'm grateful for the members of their staff, who treated me with kindness and friendliness today (as they do every time I walk through those doors).  But every inch of that place is a reminder of what's been lost:  from the pictures on the walls to the must-be-at-least-eight-months-along woman sitting in the waiting room to the unmistakable cry of a newborn brought along to his mother's postpartum appointment.  It all speaks of what others have and I don't.

As I read back over those two paragraphs, I realize that they sound much more melancholy than I intend.  In reality, I'm doing fine.  I've been buoyed by so many things, not the least of which is all the kind comments left here and on Facebook and the knowledge that so many women are thinking of and praying for me.  I'm deeply grateful.  And so, my office visit today was not remarkably emotional for me, but it could have been if I had been feeling less stable.  My heart goes out to the woman who miscarries, is in the midst of intense grieving, and then finds herself surrounded by images--both real and in print--of happy, smiling, excited pregnant women.  That could be so painful.

I'm certain that my own grief has been tempered by the caution I felt, as did Jeff, from the beginning.  But in those early days, despite the curtain of concern that had wrapped itself around my heart, I found myself jubilant at the thought of another child.  I couldn't help but begin to grow attached, and it didn't take long for my feelings to soar.  For example, I started writing letters--short little notes--to my unborn baby, in an effort to capture how I was feeling at each step of the process.  But after only two, I stopped.  At that point, I had done the pregnancy test that I expected to be dark and definite, but which turned out to be--once again--light and unconvincing.  Maybe at that point I knew what was coming?  But even though I suspected it, hope held out strongly...all the way until there was unarguable proof of the miscarriage and I had to accept what was happening.

Even though it's bittersweet and heart-wrenching for me to read these, I'll include them here as part of the record of this miscarriage...

********

Monday, June 27, 2011 - 10:30 PM

Twenty-four hours ago, I first learned of your existence; and to say that my heart pounded drums of joy inside me would be an understatement.

To be completely honest, I should perhaps say that I first learned of the possibility of your existence because the line in the pregnancy test that told us I am carrying you was so faint that it fell into the category of "if you hold the test tilted just so and if you squint a little and if the lighting is right, there might be an extra bit of blue color down the middle of that window where the line is supposed to be that confirms the test is positive."  It certainly wasn't clear or definitive or obvious.

But nevertheless, my pulse quickened, and my smile broadened; and I proudly carried the test downstairs to show it to your daddy.  When he saw my glow, he remarked, "You really want to be pregnant, don't you?"

Oh, yes.  I surely do.

********

Tuesday, June 28, 2011 - 6:15 PM

The thought running through my head today is this:  I can hardly believe I get to be pregnant again.  I can hardly believe I'm so blessed as to be chosen for this honor.  After having been given four other healthy pregnancies (and a fifth that resulted in miscarriage), to now have the opportunity to do this again is unbelievable.  I am so honored.

When I packed away my maternity clothes after Shav's birth, I distinctly remember wondering whether I would ever get to wear them again.  How absolutely delightful to think that the answer is yes!

********

Oh, such short-lived joy!  But in the long run, I'm sure it's preferable to find out quickly that a pregnancy can't continue.

Because not much time had passed since I had first found out I was expecting AND because of our concern from the beginning, we had not shared the news of our pregnancy with anyone.  However, that also meant that we had not shared the news of the miscarriage either.  And, although I didn't realize it at first, that bothered me.  I felt like people didn't really know me if they didn't know about that loss.  When I began to open up and tell a few close friends about it, I was blessed by the outpouring of love and support they gave me; and it reminded me anew of how valuable openness is.  Fear and sadness grow best in the dark, but shine the light of confession and open communication on it, and those things shrink until they vanish.  How wonderful that God has created us that way!

I'm not trying to drag this out, and I apologize for the various parts that my story has come out in; but I'm simply not finding the time to sit down and get it all out on paper....er, keyboard.  :)  I suppose that, bit by bit, it will all come out.  If only I had more time to write...  :)

It Might Not Be Very Comfortable, But...

Who says you've gotta kick off your boots before you fall asleep?

 This little cowboy has no problem falling asleep with his on.  ;-)

Hope Deferred, Part Two

For part one, click here.

Fast forward to June 2011.  I knew there was a strong possibility that I was pregnant; and in my impetuosity, I took a pregnancy test before I should have.  I wasn't surprised by the negative answer, nor was I discouraged.  Hope was still strong.  But a few days later, I took another one, and again received a negative response.  "Hmmm...by this time, it really could have been positive.  Oh, well, I'll wait a few more days," I thought, "and test again."

That brings us to Sunday evening, June 26.  On our way home from Bible study, we stopped at Walmart "for a few things," and I furtively snuck a box of pregnancy tests into my cart.  All the way through the store as we continued to load items into the cart and all the way through the check-out area as we UNloaded items from the cart, I fervently hoped that none of the boys would notice that unfamiliar box and inquire further about its contents!  They didn't.  ;-)  But as soon as they were all in bed, I took the test, and the most beautiful sight appeared:  that second line in the window, indicating that I was pregnant.  I jubilantly took it downstairs and proudly showed it off to Jeff who was happy, too.  Happy, but cautious...as was I.  You see, that second line--the one I had been longing to see--was very faint.  It was there, but not dark, not obvious.  It didn't scream, "YOU ARE PREGNANT!"  It was more like a whisper, "Well...you might be."

My hope didn't die yet, partially because there was another pregnancy test left in the box, and I planned to wait a few days and take it.  Surely by then, the line would appear quickly and be dark and definitive, right?

I held off until Wednesday morning, then joyously woke up, eager to take the test and see proof of the exciting event occurring within me.  I could hardly wait to tell the world!  But again, a very faint line appeared. So much for proof.  "I guess I'll buy another box of pregnancy tests, and wait a few days to try again," I somewhat wearily thought.

Uncharacteristically for me, I hadn't breathed a word of this to anyone but Jeff.  Part of my reason for that was the caution we felt, based on the unconvincing pregnancy tests we'd seen; but another part of it was because of my intense delight at the thought of another baby.  It was delicious, having this secret that I'd only shared with Jeff.  I held my deep joy close to my heart; and although I "knew" that I would eventually enthusiastically share the news with anyone who would listen, I wasn't ready for that yet.

The first person I told was my college friend Lisa who was vacationing in the area and came over for dinner with her family on that Friday night.  The fact that she is pregnant made our conversation naturally turn to pregnancy-related issues; and as we stood by the swings pushing our boys higher and higher, I shared with her about our "mildly positive" pregnancy tests (I'd taken another one that morning, with the same faint result) and our concern that a miscarriage was fast approaching.

Sure enough.

Not too many hours after she was gone, the bleeding started; and any woman who has gone through it can remember what a sad, sad sight it is.  Life is gone.  Hope drains out.  Joy runs away.  The love remains without a doubt, but the dreams you already had for that child dissolve into nothing.  It is so very sad.

To be continued...

Hope Deferred, Part One

We were standing outside in the dark.  The fireworks our friend had set off in his annual Independence Day extravaganza were over, and all that remained to do was to gather our tired-but-happy children and walk down the hill to our minivan to set off for home.

But before we did that, an old family friend approached me.  A kind and dear lady, she greeted me warmly; and we chatted for a few moments as the other party-goers milled around, packing up folding chairs and collecting their dishes from the potluck feast enjoyed earlier.  And then she--remembering, I'm sure, two years ago when I was hugely pregnant with Shav during that Fourth of July gathering--remarked nonchalantly, "Well, at least you're not pregnant this year!"

But you see, I was.  Or had been, to be strictly accurate.

Of course, she didn't know that.  Of course, she didn't mean anything by her comment.  Of course, hurting me was the last thing in the world she would ever have wanted to do.  Little did she know that, even while she spoke, my body was losing its grip on a pregnancy and my heart was mourning the loss of a baby whom I very much wanted.

Four and a half years ago, I had a miscarriage; but the fact that it followed hard on the heels of an armed robbery here in our home dulled the edge of the figurative sword and diminished the pain I felt from that.  It sounds silly, but I can't think of better preparation for a miscarriage than having a masked gunman come to your door early one morning before dawn, holding your neighbor hostage and demanding money.  The incredibly huge wave of relief I felt when that crime ended without bloodshed continued through the next few days as I found out that, yes, what I had suspected was true and I was indeed miscarrying.  Having to say goodbye to that promise of life within me was made a thousand times easier because I did NOT have to say goodbye to my husband and our two sons.  Nevertheless, my heart ached; but I distinctly remember thinking, "My arms may feel empty, but in reality, they are still full.  My lap is full.  My heart is full.  I am blessed."

And now, here I am again:  feeling the emptiness of a missing one, reminding myself of the fullness of four precious sons, and making the choice to trust God's hand in all of it.  But even in the midst of faith, there are moments of mourning.

Because I know that I'll want to remember all the details when I'm 75 and telling my granddaughter about this miscarriage, let me pour out my thoughts now, before the details grow dim.

It was a dark December evening, about seven months ago, in a cozy Panera Bread restaurant when I shared my heart with Jeff and told him that I really would like to have another child.  He listened--compassionately, sensitively--but didn't say yes or no...kind of like what I did to him when he first asked me to marry him.  ;-)

The question of whether to have another child or not was HUGE.  It literally popped into my head every single day, and I tossed around all the angles I could think of as I deliberated which way to go with it.
~ Should we have another child?
~ Maybe four is enough; I certainly stay busy!  :)
~ But my heart longs for more.
~ But some women say they ALWAYS want more and the desire for another baby never goes away.
~ But children are a blessing.
~ But does that mean you should never take steps to prevent or delay pregnancy?
~ Maybe.  Some people think so.
~ But what about that "mysterious intersection between God's will and ours" that you sometimes talk about?  Doesn't God allow us to have a say in the decision-making process?
~ Well, maybe.  What criteria should we use to make this decision anyway?  How do we decide?
~ Lots of people use money to help them decide.  Are you sure you can afford another child?
~ Money, schmoney!  I never worry about that!  :)
~ Jeff does.
~ He's a man; that's his job.  ;-)  And besides, God HAS always provided for us and WILL always provide for us.  And what's more, our next baby would almost certainly be a boy and we've got lots of hand-me-down clothes and toys for him!  :)
~ Well, are you sure you want to go through sleep deprivation and all of that again?  Aren't you tired enough as it is?
~ Yes, I do get tired; but I can't think of a better reason to be tired than A BABY.
~ But what about the needs of your other children?  Don't you want to do a good job with them and be able to pour yourself into their lives?
~ Of course!  But God multiplies the love in a mother's heart as each child is added, and He gives her the grace and energy and creativity to meet the needs as they arise.  Besides, we're not talking about having a dozen more kids.  One more wouldn't be so hard, would it?
~ You never know.  ;-)
~ But the boys want another baby in our family!  They ask for one!
~ But do they realize what they're asking for?  Do they know how another baby would divide your time and attention further?
~ Maybe, maybe not.  But sibling relationships are so precious; and even if it is challenging to meet all their needs while they're young, as they grow up, they'll have each other.  When they're young adults and we're gathering together as a big family, I don't think I'll be wishing there were fewer of them.  And when I come to the end of my life, I really don't think I'll be saying, "Man, I sure wish I hadn't had that last child."

On and on the thoughts went.  I got really good at arguing with myself.  :)  But always, ALWAYS, I came back to this thought:  even though adding another child to the family now might challenge me and stretch me and exhaust me and stress me, I can't imagine that at the end of my life, I would regret having had that child.  Oh, I could be wrong.  I suppose the child could turn out to be some horrible criminal--a serial killer perhaps.  But I have the faith to believe that the child would NOT turn out that way, but would grow up to know and love and serve God, to be a fighter for righteousness and a defender of the truth, a well of compassion and mercy to those around him (or, improbably, her).

So, my mind grew peaceful and settled:  I wanted another child, if the Lord would be so gracious as to give us one.

I don't know all of Jeff's thoughts during these months of deliberation.  I have a strong hunch that he thought about it far less than I did!!  :)  But eventually our thinking was unified.

The funny thing is that it was really the first time we had ever had to make that decision...or maybe I should say, the first time we had ever had to think long and hard before we made that decision.  You see, when I met Jeff, he believed that birth control was wrong and that a couple should accept as many children as the Lord gave them.  That was a big shock to me; and even though I thought he was slightly crazy, I agreed to read A Full Quiver by Rick & Jan Hess.  After reading it, I realized that maybe he wasn't quite as crazy as I had once thought; however, by the time we got married, neither of us was thinking along the lines of the quiverfull mentality (after all, it's far easier for a single, celibate male to embrace the idea of no birth control than it is for a young couple about to be married but with no plans--or truthfully, desire--to have a dozen children).  We had devised a plan to wait five years before having children; and wouldn't you know, Josiah was born FIVE YEARS AND SIX DAYS after our wedding.  We couldn't have planned that if we tried.  ;-)

Oh, but that's right:  we DID plan, and we DID try!  But the whole story is a little more complicated.  Two and a half years into our marriage--on January 1, 2000, to be exact--Jeff suddenly woke up and said, "I'm ready to have a baby!"  WHAT???  What happened to our five-year plan?  Aren't you rushing things just a little bit, buddy?  We've still got two and a half years to go!!  :)

To make a long story short, we talked it over, prayed about it, got advice from Godly friends we trusted, and decided to go for it.  It was so exciting.  Until...four months passed, and NOTHING.  Then I got mono, and the doctor said ix-nay to the getting-pregnant plan.  After that, we were asked to quit our jobs and go into the full-time ministry, and we decided to make that transition without the added pressure of having a baby on the way.  The following year, we felt our way clear to pursue pregnancy, we conceived in our fifth month of trying which was very soon after the Sept. 11 attacks (along with quite a few other couples, so I hear), and Josiah was born the following June.

When I look back, I realize that the nine months total that we tried to get pregnant are minuscule compared with what so many other couples face as they deal with infertility.  A drop in the ocean.  But I still remember how long those months felt, how I ached for a child, and how I questioned God when others got pregnant and I didn't.  For example, my fifteen-year-old niece got pregnant during that time; and I cried out to God, "Why did you give her a child and not me?  This makes no sense!"

Eventually, of course, Josiah was born; and we rejoiced beyond imagining at the blessing of having a son.  At that point, there was never any question about whether we wanted another one.  Jeff's mother, who was an only child, urged us to have another one so that Josiah wouldn't grow up in the same lonely situation that she had; but she needn't have wasted her breath.  Of course we wanted another one!

After David was born, we again knew that we wanted more; and that's when we had our first miscarriage.  But God graciously opened my womb again, and I was several months pregnant with Tobin by the time my due date for the child who died rolled around.  And let me tell you, it was incredibly comforting to me that by that significant date, my body was already beginning to swell with new life.

If you've been reading my spilled thoughts for a while, you might already know that Shav was a total surprise for us.  Planned by God, given to us before we even thought to ask, Shav began to grow inside me when Tobin was only nine months old.  Talk about a shock!  But oh, what a wonderful one.  :)  Because of the short spacing between those two, we never had come to a decision about whether we would have another one (although I had begun to ponder it and move in the direction of adoption).  God obviously made that decision for us, and I LOVE His choice!  :)

I've run out of time, but not out of words (do I ever?)  ;-)  More later...

They Still Fit

It doesn't always happen that all four of my sons are in the bathtub together.  In fact, it doesn't often happen.  To be quite honest, it rarely happens.  But it happened last night.

From my oldest...

...to my youngest...

...they all managed to fit in one little ol' bathtub.

Can you guess how much fun they had?

 You can?

 What was your first clue?

 The crazy looks on their faces?

 Especially Shav--whew!  He's developing quite a sense of humor.  Maybe he learned it from his big brother David.

 Those two are such hams, we might as well change our last name to Burger.

When I am an old gray-haired lady, tottering around with my cane and posting Facebook status updates about my arthritis and all the prescriptions I need to get filled, I'll remember when...

...four little-but-getting-big-fast boys fit in my tub.