Thoughts on my Pregnancy

So here is another blog post about something that I have been thinking a lot about recently. And yes, it has to do with my pregnancy.

See I know a lot of woman who do pregnancy blogs, where they journal about how far along they are, how they are feeling, what they are excited about, that sort of thing. And I love reading these blogs. I always thought that I would be one of those woman who did this. I mean, why not? It's fun to share some of the thoughts and feelings we have, and invite others along for the journey.

However, I am not going to keep a pregnancy blog journal. I'm not going to tell you how many weeks I am or how I've been feeling, or what's been happening. Oh I'm sure I'll share things here and there, I can't help. I am excited about Baby Nugget. But the pregnancy part of this? Yeah, that part I'm kinda not so much in love with.

Let me explain. We found out I was pregnant, got excited, got a little scared, didn't tell people, continued to wait and see what the Lord had in store for us. Starting in the beginning of November, I got sick. Well I started to get sick. Really sick. I started missing work, and spent days laying in bed just praying that I wouldn't throw up again. I tried ginger, I tried food before I got out of bed, I tried small meals during the day, I tried food in the middle of the night. Nothing worked for me. I quickly became very very miserable.

It doesn't help that during this time I'm still scared that I might miscarry again, still scared that I will see that red where I don't want to, and dealing with hormonal changes that made me into a psycho. I tried drinking the tea that I knew would help. I tried drinking more water, and when I started to throw that up to, I started to get a little worried.

Here it was the month of November and everyone was talking about how Thankful they were for different things. I did not feel thankful, except for the life of the child that I was holding close to my heart. I felt angry and confused, and miserable. I felt isolated and like I would never, ever get through this. I felt like other woman were super excited for their babies, and here I was...someone who had experienced loss, who was not fawning over her child.

When I WOULD tell people I was sick and throwing up so much, I got a lot of "Well Praise God because it means your body is working!" I wanted to hurt those people...

It's hard to praise God when you are literally curled around a toilet. Or when you are afraid to move for fear of upsetting your stomach. Or when you are 12 hours away from your husband, your biggest supporter, throwing up a hamburger and crying because you just don't want to anymore. It's hard to be thankful for sickness, even though somewhere in my head, I knew I should be. It was hard Thanksgiving day to be thankful and happy to be with my husband when I threw up crackers, beef jerky, water, and steak. Eight times. That's how many times I threw up that day. No. I did not feel like praising anyone, I did not feel thankful.

I struggled a lot. Because I knew what it was like to loose the life inside you. I knew how helpless and scary that was, and here I was, each day with a small miracle growing inside me, and I couldn't be grateful, I couldn't be thankful. What kind of mother was I? Is this really how this was all going to go down? Was I really going to become one of those mothers who just hated being pregnant? I didn't want it to be me.

But the reality is that it was. I caught myself deleting things on Facebook that were just so negative. I had to be careful who I talked to because I didn't want to sound like I just hated this whole process. And it is just that, a process. I'm learning, picking up new habits, hoping old ones die, and praying that I continue to feel supported by my husband, our families, some pretty awesome Doula's I know, and one amazing Midwife.

So I can't, and won't keep a pregnancy journal. Because I need to forget this part. I need to forget how sick I was November and the beginning of December. I need to learn that it is ok that I needed help keeping things down, and that it is ok that I needed Zofran. I need to allow myself some grace and forgiveness, and stop being so hard on myself, to accept this reality.

What is that reality? I don't like being pregnant. I don't. But the best thing that someone has said to me this pregnancy I repeat to myself every time I throw up, or I let myself go to long without eating, because I need to hear it, over and over again.

"Not enjoying your pregnancy does NOT mean you do not love your baby."

I don't know why, but this was what I needed to hear. This is what was going on in my mind. That. That because I was so miserable, that because I hated being so sick, I thought, some where in my brain, that it meant I did not love my baby. Oh how the lies of the enemy slip in so easily! I don't struggle so much anymore. I take each day as it comes and remind myself that every day is a victory, because every day sine October 16 I have still been pregnant. Not a happy yay pregnant, but pregnant none the less. 

Today is Christmas Eve. And I finally feel thankful. I feel thankful to a young woman who talked me through so many things, who listened to me tell her that I couldn't do it anymore, who came and cleaned my house because I just didn't feel up to it. I'm thankful for all the Doula's I know, who I can call, who listen to me, who talk me out of freaking out when I had a backache.I'm thankful for a long distance friend who knows where I am mentally, and reminds me of the truth, that I do love my baby. I'm thankful for a Midwife who talks to me on Facebook, I happen to think no OB/GYN would do that, and who gives me good advice, and pushes me to make good choices for me and my baby. I'm thankful for a Mommy who answers about a bajillion questions that I've had this past month or so. I'm thankful that my baby is alive, and that I felt the little nugget move, those little flutters that you can't understand until it happens to you. And I'm so thankful for a husband who gets up and goes to work when I can't, and then who comes home and takes care of me when I can't take care of myself. Thankful that he tells me to drink more water, and eat more snacks, and get up and MOVE. He's wonderful, he really is. 

Merry Christmas Everyone. I hope you are all feeling the joy and love that I am feeling today. Even though I have to move slowly because I'm still afraid of throwing up. Even thought Christmas threw up in my house, and the dishes haven't been done. I am out of bed, and I didn't need to take my anti-nausea medication, and tonight I get to go spend time with my family. 

I feel like myself this morning. I feel like myself, plus one tiny new life, and the wonder of that...is enough to be thankful for. 

After 12 Weeks: Why We Waited

Recently I read a blog post (find it here) that made me think a lot about my recent life choices. While the author of this post makes a very valid point, and I do believe that woman should be allowed to tell or not tell about their pregnancies, I would like to speak on behalf of the woman who DO chose to wait until after 12 weeks to announce their pregnancies.

In late June of this year, while serving at as a leader at a youth camp, I found out that I was pregnant. I was very excited, and told just about everyone. I'm really terrible at keeping secrets, so it wasn't hard to tell anyone who would listen to me that I was going to have a baby. In early July, my husband and I announced to friends and family, in a very public way, that baby was coming in March 2014. So on July 20, when I stared to heavily bleed, you can imagine how devastated I was. It was hard. One of the hardest things I have gone through. My husband was gone for another week, and I was going through this, at the moment, very much alone.

One of the worst things about loosing our baby, was the comments and congratulations that were all over social media, and the amount of people who knew we were expecting. It took MONTHS for everyone to finally know that no, we were not expecting anymore. A month and a half after loosing our baby, I posted this to Facebook "Public Service Announcement: I miscarried our baby. I am no longer pregnant. If you know someone who still thinks I am, please set them straight. I'm really tired of having the "No, not this time, I'm not pregnant anymore" conversation. It sucks, even when its an innocent conversation, it really really really sucks. So spread the word people, and please...stop telling me I can eat what I want because I'm pregnant..." It was hard for me to realize that maybe there were still people, still, who did not know. 

I went through and deleted things. Reminders of something that would never be. Hurts that cut me to the core every time I saw them. A cake posted by a friend for my baby shower. Posts of congrats and blessings and prayers. It all just hurt so much. 

I had a lot of healing to do after our baby went Home to Heaven. It was rough for a while. I cried...I cried a lot. And I grieved, which is something that I had never had to do before. Some days, I couldn't stand the attitude that parents had towards their children. I'd come home, and cry to my husband and say "What I wouldn't give to know that I will have to change a poopy diaper" or "I would love to have to wake up at three AM with our baby..." 

So later this year, on October 16, while one of my very best friends was in labor with her third baby, I took another pregnancy test. When it came out positive, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I didn't know if I wanted to be excited, or if I wanted to hide. I didn't know if this baby would live, or if in a month I would be telling everyone, no sorry, not this time...again. While I cried over those two little pink lines, my husband held me. 

As a family, we made a choice not to make this new little life public until after 12 weeks. Let me make this clear, we were not ashamed of our baby, or living in fear, we were making a choice that was better for us. And it does not make me insane. It makes me human. 

I told people I trusted. I told my parents, my husbands parents, my boss at work, people who I knew would pray for us. People who I knew understood that, while I was excited, I was just...scared. I needed those 12 weeks to wrap my mind around the idea that I could, in fact, carry to term. I needed those 12 weeks to remind myself that I am stronger than fear. I needed those 12 weeks to talk this out with my husband and draw on his support. I needed those 12 weeks. It was not out of fear that we did not tell people, in a public way, that we were pregnant, it was out a need and desire to learn, for myself that not ALL pregnancies end in heartbreak. 

I didn't want to have to go back, again, to delete and tell everyone that I lost my baby. I, who am a very emotional person, held that grief to myself. I wanted to celebrate and rejoice the life of my baby, who was very real to me, on my own, with my husband, in my own way. For once, I didn't want to blast it all over a Facebook status about incredibly torn up I was inside. Because I was. More than most people know, I had a really hard time learning to trust that God knew what he was doing when I started to see that blood. It took a long time. A really long time. And it was hard. 

And forgive me, but I didn't want to have to do that all over again. 

I wanted to wait. I wanted to hold the life of this new baby close to my heart, me and husband both did. We wanted to keep this wonderful little secret and share it together. We didn't want public knowledge. We wanted quiet, and peace, rest. With one another, with our new little life. 

Granted, with this little one, I got terribly sick, and I'm sure that most people knew already. But they respected that it was PUBLIC knowledge. They didn't pry. They didn't ask. They waited, and those who knew, prayed. 

Only once did I have a good friend ask me if I wasn't living in fear. It was hard to answer her. Pregnancy after miscarriage is a whole new ball game. Every time I went to the bathroom, I expected to see blood. With this baby, when I got to how many weeks I was when I lost our other one, I was a huge mess. I had a day where I cried because I had a backache. Every cramp, every weird feeling sent me into panic. I memorized 2 Timothy 1:7 and 1 John 4:18 and repeated them to myself over and over. I talked and cried to God and my husband. So yes, there was fear, but no, we weren't NOT announcing publicly because we were afraid of loosing our baby. However, I was afraid of telling people and then telling them, once again, no, not happening. 

The day I hit 12 weeks, I rejoiced and cried. That week, we told publicly and invited friends and family to rejoice with us. 

It is a choice. One that every mother must make. One that every family must make. Crazy enough, none of us knows what will happen to our children. Even now, at 14 weeks, something could still happen. How many more days do I have with my baby, I wonder sometimes. A month? Two? Until 38 weeks? Maybe I will only have this baby until he/she is three or four, or 16. I don't know. You don't know. 

God does though. He knows the number of days I have, my babies have, that my husband has. He already knows. I release that control to Him and let go of those things I can't control, which happens to be a lot of things. 

Basically, I just wanted to share these thoughts, and invite other mothers who needed and wanted to wait until 12 weeks to know you are not alone.  

I get it. I really do. 

And there is nothing wrong with that. 

In Case You Missed It

I'm a little bit pregnant.
As in 12 weeks.
So.

GET READY FOR A NEW ADVENTURE!

Also, to those who knew before and were praying, thank you. And thank you for keeping our little nugget ours until we felt comfortable. I really have been very sick with this baby, it's been a rough November, but we are doing very well, and are very excited about what is to come. 

That's All

It is the day after Thanksgiving, and I have finally showered. To put this in reference, I haven't since Sunday. I don't care if you think that's gross, it's what happened. Showering take a lot of me, I get real tired. I even shaved my legs.

I don't know what I want to write. I haven't in a while. We've had so much going on that, sitting down to write something seems...trivial. I don't even have any new revelations or spiritual awakenings or big commitments or anything to tell you.

I am surviving. Living. There are some things in the making, but for the most part, nothing is new.

I think if anything, I'm learning something very important about myself. I don't think I know how to ask for help. I am so used to being able to do things on my own, and to go help other people, well...as this current stage in my life, I need help. But I'm having a real issue knowing who to ask, or how to ask, without going into to much detail as to why I have to ask.

I have been relying on my Husband for a lot. A lot. A lot lot. I can't stress to you how important he has been to me. I'm learning that he is so much more selfless than I am. I wish I could be like him more, in that. I feel more selfish that I think I really am.

One day at a time, right?

Maybe the next time I write I'll have more words of wisdom or a cute story.

For now, this is all you get.

Rest in Goodness

It's 8:33, and I should be asleep. My husband is/is trying even as I type this. But, I can't sleep just yet, and I haven't written in a while, so I decided to. 

Because, I am learning. So many things. 

August sucked. September, except for a few parts (like seeing one of my best friends get married/visiting one of my other very best friends) sucked. 

I've taken to memorizing scripture. Like it's a life line. Like it's my job, and well, it is. I've paid special attention to Philippians 4:8, and Matthew 6:34. Go look them up, I'm to lazy to type them out. I've been learning/been being taught that we are to take it one day at a time.

I can't control tomorrow, I can't control money, I can't control people, I can't control time, I can't control the president, I can't control some of the things my body has done, and I can't control situations. But, 

I can control me. 

I can control my thoughts and actions, and instead of dwelling on things that are negative and silly, I think about true and lovely and honorable things. Instead of worrying about tomorrow I remember that God is I Am, not I was or I will be. He's the God of Today. 

And you know, I have good days and bad days, but today was a good day. I was thinking last night about bills and people and food and how I'm going to buy groceries and what all I needed to do this week, but, today, I quieted myself. I thought about God's goodness and with a rational mind I thought about His faithfulness. 

And He proved to me that this is Truth. 

And I'm going to go to sleep soon, curl up next to my husband, and I'm going to truly rest in His goodness. 

For now friends, look at me and my husband being adorable. 

Because we are.

And I met a girl who's trying to start her own business and she took pictures of us and it was wonderful. And it was cute. And I love them. 

So look at our faces and smile, because we are. :)

Um, the water was cold.

  

Whatever Is Lovely

Good morning!

Today, I am adorable. I woke up giggly and woke my husband up giggly and giggled about one and million things already this morning. 

Good days are good. 

All things considered this past two weeks, with as many silly things that happened, there was a lot of good things. I've found encouragement, I've been honest, with myself, with others. I've laughed, I've made a few changes in my life. I've been brutally honest about why I want to make those changes. 

The husband and I go out. It's not that we're past the honeymoon stage, we just actually enjoy the company of others now. And it's the company of good people. Like this kids 18 birthday:

He's a cool kid. His family is pretty awesome to. Spending that evening with his family and some other friends kinda made my week. We played Mad Libs. We laughed and ate pizza. We watched a three year old very bossily tell people where they should be hiding, and laughed when she told who was going to count. 

 Why does this world think that we need to drink and smoke and do all sorts of other detrimental stuff to have fun? I had fun. There was no smoking, no drinking, just honest fun. The type of fun where you play hide and seek with a three year old. The type of fun where she finds a bug and carries it around and wants to show EVERYONE where she found it. Don't get me wrong, I'm over 21, every now and again, I have a drink. But the people I hang out with don't have to be drunk to have an awesome time. I'm just reflecting on a time in my life where that wasn't true...

I wrote this blog post in my head at three thirty this morning. I feel like there was something more profound that I wanted to say, some big revelation that would shock and awe you. 

But the truth is that I woke up in a good mood this morning, and have been hanging around good people most of the week and that's helped me. 

Support comes in such funny ways. People who I didn't even know came out of the woodwork to encourage, support and love on me and my husband. And even in those moments (which I still have) where I don't know what we're doing, how we'll buy groceries, or I'm tired of waking up (again) at three, I remember those people. And it really does make me smile. 

This is the verse I'm dwelling on this week, one that was mentioned to me this Sunday:

Philippians 4:8

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

3 AM Life Lessons

Why Hello There World,

IT'S 4:06 IN THE MORNING. 

Fun fact, I am not a morning person. Not really. If I can get up on my own terms at my own time, I do pretty well. Change my schedule, and man, life will be rough for a while...ask my best friends mother. I was once a Jeopardy question at her birthday party, "Danielle thinks this person is the scariest person in the world to wake up...who is Maddie Carrigan?"...I maintain that those were bad teenage years, and said best friends mother needs to let that one go...however, I am woman enough to admit my lack of morning happiness deficiencies.

The man and I are back down to one car, which just means I have to wake up before God to take him to work, change my work schedule (which worked out fine...I hope...I think...) and go to bed while it's still light out. All things we can manage. It's a season right?

So today was the first day I had to be up at said time, and there are some things that I am already learning. Here is a list. I composed it while trying to not act like a crazy person on the road.

1. The lights stay green, because no one else is on the road...seriously...it was weird. And if I did come to a red light, it changed quickly. And why? Because no one else is on the road this early...and for good reason.
2. I'm a bad early morning driver. I had a running commentary about everything this morning, my husband politely asked me to stop talking...it was that bad. 
3. The only commercials are ones for people who are over 50 and need life insurance. And why would these be the only commercials? Because only really old people are up this late? I guess...I don't know. I would think they would put more commercials on about crazy young adults who need to settle down or something...or maybe it's just that I was watching more re-runs of Law and Order (it's a good show, I'm a little obsessed, with all the different ones, but SVU is def. a fave!)(Oh my gosh, I just shortened words............)
4. Opossums. We almost killed one, along with a squirrel and a deer. Wild life decides to be awake this early too. Also opossums are freaking ugly man. It's no wonder they only come out at night when normal people are asleep...don't nobody want to see them. 

I also have already done dishes, made my bed, and picked up my room, AND I remembered to take meat out of the freezer for dinner. 

And now I feel like I have all this time to do more stuff. I'm even contemplating running...or watching the sunrise...or making more cards....or stamping...showering would probably be helpful. But you know what I could really go for?

I hope this amused you all. And I hope you all realize that what's really about to happen is that I'll fall back asleep, maybe. 

I should write a poem about 3AM...it's a crazzzzzy time. 

Valid

People are weird. Because sometimes, they don't know what to say to you.

They either ignore the situation, tell you their own story and offer condolences, ask you if you want to talk about it, or they ask what they can to do help. Some people are so awkward about it that you can't help but feel sorry for them. A woman from my church today gave me two of something instead of one because I was pregnant...I calmly smiled and said, "No sweetie, not anymore." People don't know how to handle that.

I wish I was writing a blog post about how this is drawing me closer to God, how I'm learning so much about His character, or about patience or something...but I'm not. I'm not learning anything, and I'll be really honest, Church sucked this week for me. Completely sucked. There are so many pregnant woman in my church, and please please please if you are one of those woman don't think that I hate you, or can't be around you, or anything like that. I can. But later, I might have to cry about it. Because, I was supposed to be one of those woman. I was supposed to be counted when people started talking about new babies and mothers. There were other things to, said in ignorance, that just cut me to my core. I think I spent most of service holding onto my husbands hand while crying.

I don't know...when that will change. I don't know how to grieve, and I don't know how much time is enough. I feel like there will never be enough time to grieve for this tiny person who was supposed to grow up and be loved by my husband and I. We wanted our baby. With all that we are, we wanted our baby.

I'm still learning how to...be. Exist. A stranger asked me the other day if I was a mother...how do you explain to them that you are, that you had a baby that passed from this world?

I don't know. I may never know. And I keep writing about it, and I will continue to write about it. Because I have to. I might have to for a long time. I have to talk about my baby, and if you catch me on the right day, I might talk about it with you.

It's ok to look at me and say that you're sorry I lost my baby. It's ok to ask me how I'm doing. I'll tell you if I can or can't talk about our little one.

It's not ok to act like it never happened. I need to know that the life of my baby, however short, was important. I need to know that our little one mattered, and I need to know that people see me for what I am, a mother without her child.

Ignoring that it happened, is probably the worst thing you could do...because it really makes me think that these emotions that I'm feeling are not validated. That they aren't important.

But they are.

Distractions

I thought about writing a full fledged post, but in the end, I don't think I care too...

Recovery is a long road, and I'll be honest, I feel like there is more and more bad things happening, and while I know there's still good, it's hard not to feel defeated.

Especially when you think that you're done crying and your husband comes home and you cry all over him...again...

I'm tired. And this week, I feel defeated. I feel defeated, useless, and very very very empty.

And for as tired as I am, I'm not sleeping. Maybe one day I will share the art that I've made since...yeah...

Here's the thing that no one tells you about miscarriages, I'm a mother, I am. I just don't get to hold my baby...yeah...wrap your mind around that one...

I'm still on that minute by minute processing...and it's still rough a lot of the days...

BUT
Tomorrow, I am FINALLY getting to do a photo shoot and me and some friends are going to get VERY dressed up, we're gonna go out, and we're just gonna pretend for a moment that we're young and carefree and nothing can touch us.

I think sometimes, we just need distractions, and right now, I need one....

One Week Later

It's my birthday tomorrow.
And I'm torn between celebrating the day of my birth, to hiding in my my house because I'm still grieving the loss of my child...

I don't know.
I don't know yet what we'll do.
My Beloved is HOME now, and I have to say, just having him in the house is so good for me. Just having him near me is good for me. I'm glad we live in this little apartment, because I would have been so very lost by myself at that big house in the mountain.
Each day, things get a little better. I don't cry as much as I used to, as much as I did this week.

There are so many other emotions right now though that I've never had to deal with that are just completely throwing me off. For example: other woman with children. Some people, I just can't handle. I don't want to be around them, I don't what to hear them complain, I don't want to care. As I said on my Facebook, this week I've become so incredibly grateful for a family that holds me up, a husband who supports and listens, and for friends who drop everything for me. When I hear ungrateful comments, though they are not personally directed towards me, it kills me. "Love you children," I said, "because at least you have them, some of us don't." And I stand by what I said.

I would give anything to still be exhausted. I would give anything to need naps at three o'clock because my body was working in growing a baby. I would even give anything to have morning sickness, or to have to pee every blessed three minutes. Anything. If you're a mother, hug your kids. Love them, because if you had lost one of them, you would feel the same way.

I'm also just trying to assimilate myself back into life, and I'm finding that to be harder than I thought it would be. Some days I still feel like I can't function. I get a call from my brothers wife everyday, just because she cares and she has to check up on me. I love her for it. I also called my oldest brothers wife who knows this pain. Our conversation went like this, me, "Today just sucks."
She said, "Yeah...yeah it does."
I think that was all I needed to hear from someone.

I'm not looking for answers, I'm not blaming God, what's the point in that? He didn't DO this. We live in a fallen world, a world where babies die in the womb, because yes, yes we are that far from the Lord and what He originally wanted. Makes me wonder if Eve, who was alive so close to Paradise, ever miscarried a baby? I don't know. I certainly hope not.

When my husband came home his biggest concern was that I wouldn't feel beautiful, that I wouldn't feel like he still wanted me. And to tell the truth, he was right. He had to spend some time in the past few hours and days convincing me that he still thinks I'm beautiful. I thought...I thought how could he when my body, this things he loves so much, has done something so ugly? I've been working on that one...he's been a huge help...

Having him home...I feel like I'm really ready to start to heal now. I just needed to hold onto him, to be near him, to hear HIM tell me that this wasn't my fault. Because there is head knowledge and heart knowledge, and sometimes the path between the two gets funky and messed up. There are a lot of things right now that I know, but I don't feel. Sometimes I think that's really what my husband does, he helps me align the two.

And here its time for my birthday. Part of me wants to skip it, the other part of me is ok with people telling me happy birthday, and a strange part of me wants to just hide. It's also Sunday and I didn't go to church last Sunday...not without my husband. I have this theory in my head that when I get there I'll just start crying again...just when I thought that I was done crying to. I can't live like that though, hiding just because bad things happen. Bad things are going to continue happening. There will be other times in our marriage where things kinda just suck a whole lot.

So we are going to church. And we are going to eat pie at a friends house to celebrate my birthday. And I am going to continue to grieve the only way I know how.

I think though, that there is a small part of my heart that will always be reserved for this baby. Because I wanted him or her...so much. And I just don't think something like that will ever go away...

Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)

So I'm just gonna keep writing about stuff, and y'all have to deal with it.
Because I have to deal with it.

Tonight, I'm writing about this song. Stop. Listen to it. And then I'll tell you a story.

So last Thursday night, I started to spot. And it wasn't a big deal, because honestly, that happens to a lot of woman.

Friday morning, I was still spotting, and I was trying not to freak out, but I was assuming the worst.

I was at a conference with a young woman from my church, and I was trying to hide how scared I was at this point. Every morning we had this intense workshop, and we had worship. The worship band was amazing. They truly loved the Lord. I went to the bathroom during that time, and there was still spotting, and in that moment. I knew. I knew what was gonna happen, in my heart and in my head. I did. Believe me or don't believe me, I don't care. But I knew.

I came back out, trying not to cry. And they started to sing this song. And I will never be able to listen to it again without thinking about this week. I stood there in worship and just cried and cried. And I thought, "You know Lord...this was one of those worst case scenario's where I thought, maybe I won't be able to love you if this happens." I'm listening to these lyrics, singing them in my heart because I couldn't with my lips, and in my heart, I knew I would loose this baby, and in that moment I heard that still small voice saying to me, "It's ok. You don't have to. But I'll still be here." And I remember thinking, Lord, do what you have to do to bring me closer to you.

Maybe I'm not gonna feel so strong for a while, people keep telling me that I am. That I can be angry at the injustice of it, that my feelings are ok, and these are all true things. And maybe today was just one of those good days where I didn't cry five times in a row, or I had clear moments when I knew that I will get through this. And maybe tomorrow everything will fall to pieces again and I won't be able to breath and I'll hate everything and I'll cry five million more times. Maybe tomorrow will be bad. But who cares? I don't have time to worry about tomorrow, besides, God's already there.

"Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders, let me walk upon the waters, where ever you may call me. Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander, and my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my Savior."

Just Give Me A Minute

I didn't write for a long time, because I had a secret.

But considering that that secret is gone, I guess it doesn't matter.

I'm writing out of pain, and hurt, and this...place that I've come to.

I was pregnant. I found out June 25. And I was excited. So excited. We talked about names, to a midwife, to my parents, his parents, my family, and finally we told others. Maybe we should have waited.

I lost the baby July 20. I was six and half weeks pregnant.

I can't...

It's a give her a minute time, like my friend Ameh likes to say.
"She's ok."
"Yeah, give her a minute."

"She's crying again."
"Yeah, give her a minute."

"She's angry."
"Yeah, give her a minute."

Just give me a minute.

Because, I'm ok sometimes, and then, I start crying again, and then I can't breath, and then I am so, so, so freaking, angry.

But I don't know what to be angry at, so I get confused.

And please, for the record, don't tell me that God has a plan. Don't tell me He knows, don't tell me that He's holding that little one, just, don't. I already know. I do. And I trust in that. But trusting in those things, does NOT make it hurt less. As a friend said when I told her "if you need me to sit in the ashes and be upset with you, I will."

When Job had everything taken from him, he just sat in the ashes.

And that might be where I am for a while. Because...because that was my baby. And I passed this...tissue...and it was my baby.

So please be patient with me. I'm grieving and while some days I'm ok, most of the time when I get home alone (because of course my husband has to be gone for two weeks while this happens) it's not ok anymore. And there are some things that you can't erase from your memory. And there are times when the hurt is very real and close and sharp.

This to shall pass, but it hasn't yet.

So please, please just...just give me a minute...

How Good It Is!

So it's been a while. Or it feels like it's been a while. I've avoided writing just because I've been to tired to write. So much has been going on, and finding time for it has been harder for me than I thought it would be.

I finally, finally, have something that I really want to write about. I know I know, it's taken me long enough, and I promise you, it's probably not what you're all expecting.

My husband and I have recently had the opportunity to meet and become friend with an amazing couple who have four little girls. Who, as you can tell by the picture, are 3, 2, 1, and 0 (about three months if I'm not mistaken).

We all started a Bible Study that will meet on Sunday nights, and I'll be honest, it was awesome. We ate together, played outside with the girls, and I had the chance to catch some pretty cute pictures.

 Do you know how nice it is to feel encouraged? Do you remember the last time you met people who love some of the same things that you do? Can you tell me the last time you just got to fellowship with other people, who just love the Lord?

When was the last time, you truly felt encouraged?

We ended our night with prayer. And I'll be honest, it took a lot for me not to cry. We learned new things, were given some good food for thought, and we just. Felt encouraged.

At the camp that I used to work at, we had this thing, called the Five Finger Contract and/or the Full value contract. One thing that we always talked about was encouragement. Encouragement to do new things, to help one another during the week, all sorts of things. I've been thinking a lot, every time I see my hand really, how much I need to feel encouraged. I need to feel uplifted and like someone out there has something out there who just has my back. We all need that. 

And for a long time, and you can ask my husband about this, I haven't felt like anyone is backing me up. I've felt a little lost, like I was still searching for someone or something to just make me feel good after I left their house. It was nice, to go be with some one who believes in Midwives, and natural labor. It was nice to talk to a young women who believes in nursing her children and who had four little ones who are so very adorable. We prayed before we ate, and talked bible, and you know what, it was nice. It was truly just nice. 

  

I hope you all feel encouraged by this. I hope you all just feel encouraged in general. Because as much as we Christians need our personal relationship with Christ, we need the Body of Believers. After all, that's why David said in Psalm 133,

Behold, how good and pleasant it is

    when brothers dwell in unity!

2 

It is like the precious oil on the head,

    running down on the beard,

on the beard of Aaron,

    running down on the collar of his robes!

3 

It is like the dew of Hermon,

    which falls on the mountains of Zion!

For there the Lord has commanded the blessing,

    life forevermore.

Excuse Me, My PMS Is Showing

There are some times in my life when I want to look at people and say, "Pardon me, my uterus and PMS is showing, would you excuse me a moment?"

I don't have cute pictures to share this time, and I don't know if anything I write will make sense, and if you're a dude, you might not want to read this, or maybe you should, I don't frigg'en care.

I'm a girl. My hormones go a little crazy sometimes. If you're one of those girls whose periods doesn't affect them, well fine and dandy for you...jerk. That's how I feel about that.

I've had to learn to be very careful with my emotions. Because it's very easy to use this as an excuse to be mean and sin. But it shouldn't be used for that.

My wonderful husband always reminds me of reasons we should rejoice during my time o'the month. And today, since I'm feeling pretty annoyed with the whole thing, I decided to share those reasons we rejoice.

1. The bodies design/the design of a woman's body is so complex and wonderful that all of this just means that God created my body to do these wonderful amazing things, and that is worth rejoicing in. 
2. I can have babies. Let's be real, it's true. 
3. Blair doesn't mind taking care of me while I'm all sorts of crazy and hormonal. I went to sleep before him last night and when he crawled into bed with me, it woke me up. Which, God Forgive Me, was the wrong thing for him to do. I wanted to punch his face off. As I write this, I have to chuckle to myself a little bit. I didn't scream though, I got up, went to the bathroom, and came back to bed. This conversation happened,
   "Can I snuggle you?"-Him
   "NO....please don't touch me..." -Me
   He loves me in the morning. He's a good man.

I know there are more reasons than that, but I can't think of them, and I want a nap. :)

Hope you laughed at this, maybe even a little. 

But if you didn't, I'm in that mood, where, really, I don't care. 

That Is All

Confessions of a Not Returning Summer Staffer

I have to make lists a lot, and I've been debating on whether or not I should share this latest list. Mainly because it could come off as sound callous, so hopefully is I explain it right, I won't!

See, this is the first time in four years that I am not going back to camp. Not going back to the place where pictures like this

And this..

happen.

Right now is staff training. And I am not part of it. And it's weird, just really weird. I've been doing really well it, and the reason I am doing so well with it is because I've made a list of GOOD things that can happen this summer because I'm not at camp. I would like to share that list, mainly so that some of my actions recently are explained, and also because I'm a sharing type of girl :)

1. My Husband, is the number one reason why going to camp is ok. :) Let's be honest, I love him, I love him a WHOLE bunch, more than just a little bit, and every night I get to shnuggle up next to him and it's wonderful. As much as I miss my camp, this makes it all so worth it. 
2. The Library. Don't judge! This summer they're doing an adult reading club fun thing. You register books and then they hand out prizes! Can you believe that!? Prizes! For just reading! I am a huge fan, and have three books already that I need to log...
3. Dresses. I have dressed like and looked like a professional all week. I didn't wear shorts, or even my paint pants! I wore theses wonderful flowy sundresses. It would be hard to wear a sundress at camp while you're in a harness trying to Belay people....things could get awkward. 
4. My Caleb, my job, his Momma. God has me right where He wants me, and this family that I've come to love so dearly actually needs me this summer. It's exciting to be here with them during the summer months, and different. I'm so used to school school school that just being and having fun with them is a whole new animal. I like it. And I like being here for his Momma, who if you've followed me on Facebook, is doing VERY well. 
5. Camp Unite! I've been involved in and helping to plan Camp Unite! The youth pastor at our church has rallied together some youth groups to do a week of camp right here in my community! Hello! This is RIGHT up my alley! I'm doing skits, and crafts, and sharing my testimony. I can't wait to see what the Lord does with this one week of camp. 
6. This is gonna sound awful, but it's the truth...on Saturdays...I can...well, truth be told, I can sleep in. I can. I probably won't to much, but I can, and that little fact just boggles my mind...
7. Photography. I made a Facebook page! https://www.facebook.com/MJaquesPhotography, if you haven't liked it, please go do so now. :) And the best part is, that people have contacted me about doing some pictures for them! I am humbled by the amount of people who are on board with this, and maybe with some publicity I can start booking some more people for shoots. I realllllly wanna do another birth! Really! I loved doing that and I'm really hoping that opportunity opens up again. 
8. This blog! I hope I write a lot this summer! I plan on having a FEW adventures, so I can record them very easily right here for you all to see! 
9. Another confession...Air Conditioning...it's the truth. Don't judge. 
10. Did I mention my Husband? Yes, let me mention it again, he makes being here in the humidity of Va bearable. (Plus we have a tiny apartment that we can easily make freezing cold, refer number 9...)
11. I. AM. GOING. TO. COLORADO. IN JULY! WHOOO-HOO! A couple months back a wonderful young human from my church asked if I would consider going to this thing called LTCU, Lead the Cause University. I'm pretty much stoked about it. I'm going and it's gonna be awesome. 
12. New friends. I've made a couple in the past few months. It's been interesting and I love it. I'm excited to here and be a part of other people's lives. 
13. I can go to the bathroom alone. Being labeled "camp mom" means many things. I always had bug spray, bug bite medicine, I made sure people did their "chores", I cleaned up after people, and some nights I was up late listening. I also didn't go to the bathroom alone much. A certain Ms.G and Ms.P would not allow it...you know who you are...you crazy woman! Now, this whole summer, I am alone to take care of things. How nice!

So there you have my amusing list, at least, I hope it amused you. 

And don't worry, just because I'm not physically going to camp, doesn't mean I'm not praying for them, or there in my heart. I miss it, but there are so many things to look forward to, and I have to remind myself of those things so I don't get all melancholy and sad. 

What about you all? You have any brilliant plans for the summer?

The New Apartment (Pictures too!)

Here are pictures of our new place. 

It's a neat little place, and since I've taken these pictures we've put up curtains, moved more things to storage, and I am proud to say that we are COMPLETELY moved out of the OTHER house, and we NEVER have to go back. 

Yesterday I dropped off the other house key and walked through those rooms once last time. I'm fighting the urge to be bitter. We loved painting those walls, and we loved living there, and I had every intention of having our first baby in those rooms. The kitchen was big and wonderful and it was quiet, in the morning you could hear the birds. Am I sad that we moved? Maybe just a little, if I had to be honest. 

Coming home to our little two bedroom though, brings a smile to my face. There are things about this little apartment that I love. Being so close to my godson happens to be one of the best parts. 

And guess what?! The other day, I vacuumed and I never even had to move the plug! It was awesome! We're close to town, we're closer to Winchester, we've separated from Front Royal a little bit, and my Husband loves his job. 

I guess, yesterday, as I was driving home I was just thinking, you know, I don't care where all my stuff is. Not really. So long as I know that my Husband will be there waiting for me. And don't get me wrong, if God truly wanted us to move again anytime soon, He and I would have words, because it was a lot of work, and it caused a lot of stress for me and my husband. God has his plans though, and if His plans are an itty bitty two bedroom, then so be it. 

We like our new little place. we enjoy it and I'm glad we're where we are. 

So there you have it folks, the long awaited pictures of the new place, I know my loyal fan group was dying to see it. Hahaha...fan group...I crack myself up! :)

I'm Just Not June

So I'm making dinner super late tonight, because the Husband's new job gives him weird hours and he's gone until ten, and I JUST NOW finally got hungry, and when I cook, I think a lot.

I'm making this casserole noddle cheese thing and thinking about how nice it will be for my Husband to come and have dinner that he can heat and a clean floor and I recall a conversation that he and I had not long ago.

Somewhere along my delusional girl mind I had this theory that the house/apartment/living space should always be super clean for him when he gets home, and dinner should just be coming from the oven, and laundry should be done. Somewhere along the way, I decided that June Cleaver was going to be living at our household.

What I thought I was supposed to look like...

I would greet my Beloved in a cute apron and a clean dress, and the dishes would be done, and the house would be cleaned and I would never ever be overwhelmed.

So this past month, while we're moving and dealing with crazy landlords and other personal things, I had this crazy mental breakdown, because I was not able to do all this. Because I am only one woman, and most of the time, just like you, I need help.

I'm not saying that this is not what I want. I still want to be a Bride, and a Mommy, and all that that entails. However, as I was sitting there sobbing to my poor husband (who probably just asked me some silly question) he said something I've written down now about three times, because I can't forget this, I can't.

"If that is your expectation of yourself for our marriage, stop. Just stop. You won't always be able to. There will always be dishes, there will always be something that needs to be cleaned, and you will not always want to cook dinner. You will be tired, and sometimes cranky, and baby, that's fine. So long as I come home to you, none of that other stuff matters. And if it matters so much to you, that will cause problems for us later, so...you know...stop."

So I know that all you married people out there are saluting the amazing male human that is my husband. You woman who have been where I was, are standing and smiling and shouting for joy that someone else's husbands gets it. Not only that, he caught this early in our marriage. And you know, he's right. 

I like to clean and make things nice and serve. Some days though, I wake up, and hate, you know, pretty much everything. My husbands love and support help me get through the day sometimes. 

It's so fun to me that I've kept up with this little blog. I hope that one day I can look back at how silly I was when we first got married. To see our courtship, our marriage, and then these first months... the lessons and heartache and growing up that we both had to do. Some people look at us and say, "But you're just babies! How can you be married!?" I understand now. 

But doing all of this with a man who says such sweet things like that well...it makes it all worth it doesn't it? :)

Good End to a Bad Week

So here's the dealio, this week, kinda really just sucked. It's the truth. I won't deny it, really don't think that I could. If you know me, talk to me, read my Facebook, you would know this. It's really simple to know.

Know who else knows I had a lousy week?

My husband.

Sunday afternoon, I cried.

Monday night, I cried.

Get the picture?

Some of it was about stupid stuff, some of it was about stuff that really hurt my heart. A lot it was for other people. He dealt with it beautiful. He held me, comforted me, told me he was here, and let me be completely and totally insane in every possibly way.

So far this week  my husband has done the dishes multiple times, folded laundry for me, moved crap loads of stuff to out small storage space, made our bed most mornings, and today, he truly went above and beyond.

My husband showed up at work and gave me these daisy's. And not just Walmart flowers, they were from a real florists. He brought them to my work and made me blush, and made me smile. He then proceeded to kiss me and tell me that he was making me dinner tonight.

He made me bacon wrapped asparagus, and garlic baked chicken and salad and it was wonderful. Bacon wrapped anything is always good. Asparagus is always good. This was a win win situation people. And it was good. It was so incredibly good.

After that and our movie, which was Hook, one of the best movies to ever exist in the world, we went out to Bloop, a frozen yogurt place.

My husband knows me. And he knows me well. I feel pampered and precious and gorgeous and wonderful, and I just feel like I can make it through this next week. 

And I just wanted to write this. To remember all the good things in this world. To remember that my Husband loves me and sees me and wants to make things better. 

This week sucked. 

But today, was absolutely wonderful.

I Know Who You Are

When I get angry, it's hard for me to sleep. Unfortunately, the same goes for my beloved Husband, which is why both of us were up until two in the morning last night, and no, it's not because we're newly weds, it's because we were so very angry.

There is a lot of injustice in this world. And I can't think about it to much because it keeps me awake at night. It haunts me. It hurts my heart. It hurts my heart that people would hurt babies, that mothers loose their infants, that wickedness and pain flow from people just to make others miserable. It hurts my heart when I feel like my Husband and I are doing all we can to be good, righteous God fearing folk, and it feels like we fail time and time again. At least to me it feels like we're failing. This adult thing, I'm not sure that I like it so much. Sometimes, and don't tell the Husband, I think about how much easier it was living in parents basement and running away to camp every summer. I can't do that. Nor would I trade waking up to my Husbands face, or to hear him call "Baby? Where are you, I can't find you" when I've woken up at five in the morning and am sitting at our kitchen table pouring my heart out to the Lord, and just asking, God, why?

See, my Husband, when things like this happen (I'll explain the this in a second...) he just smiles, and says, "This means we're doing something good, this means that Satan has to attack us because he's scared of our testimony!" He gets excited when we are put down, persecuted (because that's what this feels like), and when things that I consider "bad" happen. I think he praises the Lord more than I do in this...and I can't tell you how lovely it is to be around someone with that kind of Faith.

We are dealing with our previous landlords, and without going into to much, basically, we're young and naive and stupid and should have listened to someone older and wiser and never moved in in the first place (you know who you are..Diddy...). But the never should have's and wish we hadn'ts are too late, and it's time to deal with this, now.

Here's the catch though, I don't want to. And my Husband and I had a long talk last night where he told me, "Well...why do you have to? I'm here too." I am learning that it takes a lot for me to trust people/my husband. I am learning that I don't have to carry these burdens, that I don't have to make sense, that I can be upset, that feelings are ok. Acting on them is not always the best idea, but actually feeling them is. 

I spent all morning praying and asking God why and telling Him how unfair this is, and asking, for just a second, to have a break, just for a second. Because, I know they tell you God doesn't give you more than you can handle, but I don't think that's true. I think He throws things at you to say, "Hey hey hey, here I am. Trust me! TRUST ME! I got this..." We can't do things without Him. Compete dependence. Complete trust.

So I decided to stop today. I'm not going to ask God why, I'm not gonna ask him for an explanation. or tell Him how unfairly we're being treated. I'm gonna take all these burdens and I'm just throw them down. Because I can't handle them. I can't handle all these things that have happened to me. I can't handle people implying that my husband and I don't take care of things the way that we were supposed to. I can't handle being an emotional hormonal girl. I can't handle the fact that there are people out there who hurt babies. I can't handle the fact that sometimes, I feel so lost that I just want to give up. I can't handle it.

So hear me loud and clear, I. Am. Not. Going. To.

How about, for one day, even if it's just today, I let God handle it? What if I lay it all down and have a "give it a second" day? What if I surround myself with worship songs and sing and sing and raise my hands in my own kitchen, and choose to worship, despite how I feel? What if I just say, "hey God, I give up, you do it?"

All of this can be summed up in words from this song,

I don't know, I don't know what you're doing...

But I know who you are.