Difference Between What I Deserve and What I Am Blessed With

Alright people, after much consideration and coercion from a friend, I decided all the sudden I look pregnant. It's gotten so weird. In the past week it feels like a toaster, she just popped out! Here we are at 19, almost 20 weeks and I all the sudden feel pregnant. It's a real thing, don't judge. I DO want to take a FEW pictures so that when Ellie tries to convince us she was adopted, I can be like, "Um, no child, no. I was very much pregnant with you. Let me tell you stories!"

Here lately I had been feeling better. I got a lot done this week and was excited about how good I felt. Today however, there was a set back, which I have to admit, made me upset. I forget that sometimes, I don't have the answers, and no, I don't have this figured out. Bad days are just that. Bad days. Not months, and I have to and am trying to accept that.

I've been thinking a lot about the people who are so excited for us. People I haven't seen or talked to in years have suddenly found me and expressed how excited they are for us. I've gotten so many packages, and I'm so thankful. Truthfully, it helps. I have to keep reminding myself that she is real, and she is down there, and growing, and there is an end in sight. There is a baby, she is ours for a while, and we get to love her, for however long that might be.

One thing though that people keep saying to me that keeps ringing around in my ears though is this phrase, "No one deserves a baby more than you Maddie." Or "You and Blair deserve to have a baby." I know what they mean, and I accept what they are saying, but I'll be honest, I don't agree.

I don't think any one person deserves a child, or a baby. I think they're blessings. No matter how long you have them for, we all know how I feel about that. :) But let me make this clear, if we're talking about things I deserve, guarding and bringing a life into this world is not one of them. I'm unworthy of this honor, to be a Mother, to make a life with my Husband, to be pregnant at all. Why, you might ask. Well, I'm a terrible human. No no, you don't understand, I really am. Ask my younger siblings, they'll tell you JUST how mean I am. Ask my Husband, he can tell you my short comings (he won't, because he loves me, but he could!). Ask my own parents, ask the countless friends that I've let down.

I feel that I have been granted this incredible honor to be pregnant. It reminds me a lot of my Faith, and my Savior and the way He saved us. You don't have to agree, that's fine. I'm not pushing this on y'all people. I'm just saying, I have done nothing to deserve His love, grace, forgiveness, mercy, compassion. Nothing. And that's how I feel about this little girl who seems to enjoy sitting right on my bladder. 

I've done nothing worthwhile to deserve her. I've done nothing that makes me into a great or good person, as most, I'm mediocre. I really am. I'm so mean. And I can be, believe it or not, VERY pessimistic. Yet here I am, almost half way done with my pregnancy, supporting this tiny (but getting BIGGER) life that grows and grows.

Oh man it blows my mind some days. Even on days like to day where I did get sick again and couldn't move a lot, it was ok. You know why? I'm starting to feel her move. She kicked me. Little snot that she is, she kicked me. I was laying next to my husband who works 40 hours to support us, holding his hand and I just tightened my grip. He looked over and said, "What is it?" I just smiled and smiled. I can feel her now. So long as she's not punching my bladder, me and her can have fun with this.

Certain things in this world we don't ever deserve. No one person deserves a baby over someone else. I'm not more deserving than anyone else. I can think of so many people I would rather see pregnant right now than myself, I'll be honest. I can think of fellow moms who've longed for babies longer than me, who went through things I couldn't imagine, who deserve a baby more than I do. I can think of friends who have longed in their hearts, to have babies and for whatever reason they had to wait, who deserve a baby more than I do. I can think of people who deserve babies and they don't even know it!

So no, no I don't deserve our Ellie. I don't. Neither does my husband. But oh, oh oh oh, we are blessed with her. Every day she lives we are blessed with her. And that right there, no matter how I feel, is what I cling to.

Just like I have to cling to the cross when I don't feel I deserve His love. Because no, I don't deserve His love, but oh, oh oh oh, I am blessed with it.

A New Perspective; From The Husband

You hear a lot from me, so I asked the Husband to write something as well. Because he's seeing all the crazy stuff happen. I figure, maybe you'd like to hear from him. See we're very different, you'll see once you start reading his writing. I kinda write how I talk and don't go back, he is very logical and it takes him some time to figure out just how he wants to say things. I love him for it. :)

Ladies and Gentlemen without further ado I give you, Blair Jaques' perspective on Hyperemesis Gravidarum, me being sick, and how he felt about it all.

As most of you know, my wife was diagnosed with Hyperemesis Gravidarum. I don't need to tell you about it, she's done that. She's told you what it's like. But she's only told you from her perspective.

Now I'll tell you mine.

It's horrible.

Now don't get me wrong. Where we are now? This place is a far better place than where we WERE at, earlier in her pregnancy, with no idea of what was going on and no idea of how to make it better. Now that we know what IT is, things are looking up. Actually, things are absolutely amazing. And I'll be honest, what you'll read in this post, all the negative...I can say with confidence that THAT, is all in the past. Yet the very fact we went through it at all is what forms the basis for my attitude today.

But let me start over.

I wake up in the middle of the night to hurried movement. My first thought is Ellie! and I sense more than see my wife running to the bathroom. To say that the sound of her vomiting is at first a relief shouldn't seem so strange to you. Ever since losing our first child, irrationally, instinctually(call it what you will) my first thoughts of any sort of distress run along the lines of "Oh God, is Ellie alright?". I couldn't bear to lose her too, and I still think this way. At every little alarming noise Maddie makes. Now, Maddie being sick is not a fun sound. I don't have much experience with the whole 'being-around-people-who-vomit' scene, but I know that it is not fun. It sounds like everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING, is in the process of being disgorged.

Unnecessary? You bet.

It is at these moments I am entirely helpless. There is no control. None, whatsoever. I can't grab a sword and behead the dragon like all the pretty fairytales. This story ends with the castle burning down, the Wicked Witch taking the throne and the dragon eating your Prince Charming.

What you read isn’t even scratching the surface of what I see every day. I see her at her worst, and I see her at her best. But it’s the worst times that drive me so high up the wall. And down as well. There were times of depression where it felt like we couldn’t do anything for days.

I am the man of the house.

This isn't supposed to happen.

I'm supposed to be able to take care of everything.

These are all ideas I have in my head because I was raised to be responsible, raised to be a protector, raised to be a father. And my parents didn't fail in that.  But it’s a humbling experience to see my wife crouched over a toilet, knowing I can do nothing to help. If I can’t physically take the pain for her, I can do things around the house to make her day easier. The less she has to do, the better off she’ll be. At the same time I try to encourage her to do whatever it is she CAN do, however small. Even if that means she picks up ten pieces of laundry, then she needs a nap. Or shopping on line for two hours for baby clothes, and then needing another nap.

What I’ve come to realize through all of this is that we must take each day as just that. So, day by day. That’s how we do this. And that’s what I tell myself, until I’m okay with it, and it’s bearable. But that isn’t how I think any more. I remind myself every day that I’m a Daddy, and my little girl is going to be in so much trouble for putting us through this mess…well, I’m sure that the first time I lay eyes on my Ellie I’ll forget all that.

The Art of Loss: The Stories We Hold Near And Dear

Here's what happens to me sometimes, I get these ideas. And they are ideas that are so far from what I think I know that they were planted there by someone else, who wants me to do whatever that idea is. Let me preface this blog post by telling you I've been thinking about and dreading it all morning. I tend to share a lot, people tell me its a gift, I think people are annoyed and want me to shut up about my feelings. Most of the time. Every now and again though, I realize that maybe someone else needs to hear my stories. Maybe they need validation, or strength, or just to know they aren't alone. We praise those who step up and step out and speak their minds, right?

What I want to share today is deeply personal. It's my Art. From a very painful time in my life. It hurts, and it feels weird, like I'm inviting people to look straight into what God only sees. It deeply rooted in my faith, and centers all around the dates June 25 and July 20. It has to do with infant loss, miscarriage, what happened in my heart after that. It's my story, and no one's will be the same. Keep that in mind. Know that this is a hard issue, for many woman, and I can't for the life of me figure out why I need to write about this now, when I'm almost 18 weeks pregnant with our second child. Lord willing the first baby we hold in our arms, but yes, our second child.

I found out I was pregnant June 25 2013, while serving at a summer camp. The day I found out, I made this in one of my art journals.

I express myself a lot through art, it's just the way things go for me. I need it, even during the times when i don't think I do. I remember one summer when I worked at a camp, we had a Bible Study based on art and our faith. We were given two sheets and asked to fill them, however we wanted, with a hard time in our life, and with where we were now. We were then asked to get in small groups and talk about our art. I ended up in a group with two beautiful humans who...understood when I started sobbing and couldn't explain. It was like my very soul on display. Talking about it...I couldn't. This just goes to show you that sharing these journal pages with you all, though it is not easy, is something I feel very compelled to do.

In the weeks that followed, I made more art for our little growing baby nugget.

 I don't think that any person prepares for what they never expect to happen. I knew woman lost babies, I knew miscarriage happened, it just...wasn't going to happen to me. But the truth is that it did. On July 20 2013 I was in an airplane with one the best young adult woman I have ever known, on our way home from a conference. I got up multiple times to use the bathroom, and there is where this terrible awful reality came to fruition. While on the plane, I pulled out my journal, and wrote this.

 What is says doesn't matter. Just know that in that moment, I needed to process what was happening to me. It was the hardest traveling day of my life. It's a terrible thing, when you want to save someone and can't do anything about it. I got home, my husband was gone for the week still. I called my best friend and she...was phenomenal. What she did for me that night I will never be able to replay. Never. Not...never.

In the weeks and months that followed I sank into this place of despair and to be very honest, doubt. How could this happen? Why did He, God, let babies die? What was the purpose of this? Didn't people tell me that He wouldn't give me more than I could handle? I couldn't handle this, I thought, they all lied to me. I accepted this water down concept that He said things would be easy. Never did. Not once.

So I did what I knew how to do, I made Art. I sketched and made cards for people. I stayed up late painting and drawing and creating. I cleaned and cried. I hurt. I called people and I begged them to give me answers they didn't have.

The biggest thing though, was that I felt like my faith had just run out. As though, I was Peter, out there in the ocean, holding my hand out to a Savior, knowing, knowing, that He could save me. In that split second that it takes for Jesus to reach out His hand, it can feel like eternity. It feels like you are just drowning. I would cry and think, "What if I'm just like Peter? Where is my faith now?"

 I listened to music on a CD that an amazing woman sent me. I particularly wore out the song "Doubting Thomas" by Nickel Creek. Over and over it played in my mind and my heart. If you know me, you know I have very strong beliefs, and I'm not afraid to tell people about them. It's part of who I am. This once though, I couldn't see, and I didn't know what to think. Me and God...Oh man...it's a good thing He forgives like He does.

 I felt like a fool, and it all hurt so much. And I couldn't...losing our baby like that affected me in ways that I never thought possible. I continued to draw and paint and craft my way through the woods.

 It took me a long time to be able to be in Church without crying. It took me a long time to be able to say, "I lost a baby." It took me a long time to be ok with the thought of ever being pregnant again. It took me months before I could look at my body without hating what it had done.

 I guess I just felt the need to tell other loss moms that they aren't alone. That one day, one day, maybe not today, or tomorrow, or ever, will you be able to think about your baby without crying. We mothers love so intensely, from the first moment, we just do. I made all of these things from a place of pain and hurt that went so far beyond words that I need to paint and craft them out.

I don't know where you are in your grief journey. I don't know if you lost a baby two days ago, three years ago, or 30 years ago. I do know you carry a piece of that baby's life in your heart. I know that you think about that baby, at night, when you're sad, when someone else goes through this terrible awful thing. I do know that you don't forget, and that you just never will. And I know what the Art of Loss looks like. I know the anguish in your soul as you pour your heart in something, anything to make it hurt less.

I hope, Momma's, that you can look at this Art, and take courage. I hope that you can see that though this sorrow lasts for a while, it does sting less with time. I hope that you see the turmoil in these pages, the suffering that they came from. I hope you know you aren't alone. I hope you know that babies can and will be brought into this world, and I hope that you can still embrace that fact. I know your journey of grief and loss won't look like mine, but Momma's, let it out so that it looks like something more than bitterness and anger that affects the people who love you so much.

This is the Art of Loss. This is my story. What's yours?

A Beautiful Moment

I actually had this weird moment last night.

See I woke up, and started thinking. About too many things. Things that ya know, you would rather forget. As each day passes when my little girl grows, I can't help but think about who I hope she'll be. I can't help but think about mistakes I want to keep her from.

I'm laying there next to my husband, listening to him breath (makes me sound so creepy) and all these emotions run over me. And all these thoughts. The ones that creep up from Satan at three in morning to take us down, to hurt us. Thoughts like, you did to many bad things to deserve anything good, if he knew what really happened he wouldn't love you, did you really tell him all the truth? Those things that we push back and back and back, because to face them is to stand naked in front of a criticizing crowd.

I reached out and grabbed a hold of my husband, and I told myself some things that were true.

I'm not who I used to be.
He knows, he knows everything.
I've never kept anything from this man.
He married me, he loves me, he loves me, he loves me.

I called to mind our wedding, walking down the aisle in white, and feeling like for him, it wasn't a lie. Looking into his eyes while he said his vows, crying because I knew he meant it. Looking over his shoulder to see my little brother in tears, crying also, because of all people in my family, that kid knows. I called to mind when I started getting sick with Ellie, the concern on his face, the way he woke up with me to rub my back, the way he takes care of me.

This is real. This is what's real.

I breathed in, and let all those things from my past go. Hakunna Matata, right? I literally sang that song to myself at three in the morning to chase away the cob webs in my mind.  Slowly I released the grip I had on him and drifted off to sleep.

There are things that I have done that I won't be able to forget. I can't. I carry them deeply and close to my soul, because for a while there, I was Godless. But the amazing part of my story is that God...didn't give up....the amazing part of my story is that my husband....didn't give up.

And I can sleep at night, because who I am, who my daughter will know me to be, is someone so far from who I used to be. And that's beautiful.

Affirmation

Sometimes I think to myself, what in the world am I doing?

My wedding rings are lose. How crazy is that? This little girl is all over the place, let me tell you. All these things that I have to do and need to do to stay healthy. In true mom fashion, I care more about her than I do myself. Which is why sometimes I get so scared.

This week we saw our midwife, who is just fantastic. She's been working on these affirmation cards for Moms, to be used by Dad's, Doula's, or to be given as gifts to Momma's who are preparing for some special work. She gave them to me for free. It's funny how sometimes people know exactly what you need when you need it.

We got in the car and I started to read them. I'll be honest, I cried. I tried to read some out loud to my husband, and my throat got that scratchy, you're gonna cry soon noise.

New mercies each day, each moment, hold on to this truth with all your might. 

Take each thought captive, embrace the positive of the moment, cast away the negative. 

Count all your blessings, then count them again. 

Do not fear the unknown; it has no power over you or your situation right now.

Do not give into sadness and desperation for what you are going through today.

The best one?

You are not becoming a mother, you are a mother already. 

It is very easy to be negative. And it has been very easy to slip into a woe is me type of thing. I don't feel good most of the time. I cry a lot, a lot a lot, and no, it's not just my hormones. I cry over things I can't control, I cry because I've lost officially 28 pounds, I cry because some days moving from my bed to the couch is to much. I cry because my husband is stressed out and we have bills that we never expected. 

I cry for other reasons too. I cry because I have so much support. I cry because I have a church family who without judgement or condemnation said "Yeah, sure we can help with that!" I cry because my husband is the most loving beautiful person I will ever know and he has been so selfless and helpful during some of my darkness moments. I cry because I know he loves me, very very much and because if he could, he would take this from me. I cry because I know I can call my mother up, at any point, and she is so good for me, calms me down, reminds me that stress isn't good for our baby. I cry because my midwife knows how hard I'm trying to get proper nutrients and knows that when I can, I will, but right now, it's just hard. 

Such an outpouring of love, brings me to place where I sit there at the Fathers feet and I just cry more. I don't say much to Him, He knows my heart. He knows where I'm at, He knows this place. He cried with me when I'm at the toilet, again, He rejoices with me on the days when I can go to work, or when i get things done. Or on the days when I decide not to live in fear. 

I don't want people not think I'm not excited. The reality is we talk to Ellie every night, we tell her Good night. The truth is people sent her baby books and I sat on my bed and read to her. I have pintrest plans to decorate everything girly and pink and purple and all sorts of other cute things. I have burlap canvas that I have big plans for. I am so excited for Halloween, because even though she's gonna be little, it just means I get her candy! And she can be Cinderella and her actual God Mother can be her Fairy God Mother! I'm excited. I'm excited for my sister in law, who gets to come help someone else take care of THEIR baby (don't worry, she knows what I'm talking about!).

I can't wait to feel Eleanor move. I have a sinking suspicion I will just burst into tears. :) I did when I saw her at the ER. I did when we saw her heartbeat the first time, and when we first heard her heartbeat. 

Thing I'm most looking forward to? The first time Blair holds his daughter. THAT, that is the thing I can't WAIT to see. :)

Expectations and Reality: Hyperemesis

Ohhhhhh life. How fun it is. How crazy and exciting and weird. And so full of reality. Harsh and brutal reality.

I've lost close to thirty pounds since the beginning of November. I have thrown up once, if not several times, every single week since that same time. I have been to Urgent Care once, and the ER once. I have had IV fluids put into my arms, and had a doctor tell me that I really need to take it easy. I have been told to drink more water, and eat more protein. I have been told to take/eat/suck on/use ginger. None of this has helped me. Not one bit.

I don't want advice anymore. Not unless you know what hyperemesis is and you have gone through it. Stop telling me (if you are not my health care provider) what I should and shouldn't be doing. Or if you aren't my husband. Because my case is different. And it's not just morning sickness. It's a real life thing, that I need medication to help me with or I'm going to end up back in the hospital with IV's stuck in my arms again.

Expectations and Reality. Here is what I (And most people) expected:

• If you eat before you get out of bed, you won't get sick. 
• If you eat more protein you will feel better. 
• If you drink more water, you will feel better. 
• If you do X Y Z, then you will feel better. 
• After 12 weeks, vomiting and sickness usually goes away. 

Here's Reality:

• It did not matter what I ate or how much I ate, I would still throw it up. 
• I would wake up in the middle of the night and throw up all the water that I had drunk the day before. 
• Some times I would move the wrong way and have to get sick. 
• I have missed more work in the past two months that I ever have in my entire life. 
• I got scared to eat because throwing up food, before your body has been given a chance to digest it, is pretty much awful. 
• I could not cook or clean. My house is constantly not to my own expectations, and I can't, CAN'T go in my kitchen. I can't. CAN NOT. Let me make this very clear, dirty dishes, make me vomit. The smell of cooking meat that I can't get away from, makes me vomit. Get the picture?
• Anything can set this off. Anything. My husbands deodorant, drinking to fast, moving to fast, sitting up...anything. 

We don't plan for these things. We don't like to think about these things. I guess in my head, I just wanted to be pregnant, and after losing our first, I placed even higher expectations on myself. I should be able to take care of the life that has been blessed to me, right? I fell into this theory that I could be pregnant, sick, and my house would still look beautiful all the time. I let myself give into this lie that I would make it from one room to another and still be ok. Sometimes, most of the time, those were to high expectations for myself. 

Some days, all I can expect from myself is, get dressed. Shower. And then I need another nap. Some times all I can expect and hope is that I make it to a toilet or a pot before I throw up. I have Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Halloween decorations still up. They might be up until Easter. I have baby stuff strewn all over our apartment. Nothing feels organized. Nothing feels like how I would like my house to look. I'm not talking about it being spotless. But...Halloween decorations? Really? And I worry about leaving dishes in the sink because bugs. Ewwwwww. 

The Reality of this pregnancy is that is much harder than I thought it would be. The Reality is that most days I throw up and then lay in bed and sob because I am convinced that I am not giving Baby enough nutrients. 

My Husband, who just might be the best person who has EVER lived, has been so supportive and wonderful. Some times I try to tell him how much I love him and guess what? I cry. Again. More. Sob, really. Because I can't make it from my bed to the kitchen to pour myself more water. And if I do, the food in the fridge (guess what, go ahead, guess what it does!), yes, it makes me want to throw up. 

I'm going to need lots of help. Not just when she gets here (did I mention we found out that Baby is a girl!?) but now. I need help now some days. I need people not to judge me when I have to leave early, or when I don't come to something at all. I need people to accept that my house is a mess and just pretend that they can't see it, or just come clean for me. Just come and ask what you can do to help. Accept that I get tired easily, and that I throw up all the time, pretty much everywhere. 

For the most part, people have done these things. Maybe it's all in my head that I imagine people are doing these things. I'm trying to voice these things though, because if I don't, they stay in my head, and they fester, and grow and become something new entirely. Bring us food. Ask me what I want and bring me something, please, bring my husband something. I feel like the poor man never eats. Ever. Because I can't cook for him. I know it's not true. But...it's how it all feels. 

Biggest confession? I'm not good at this humble thing. I don't know how to do it some days. I get home from work, if I can make it to work, and I have to lay down. I just have to. I feel defeated. And somehow, like I'm doing this the wrong way. Like maybe, I can't make this happen. Like maybe I'm not a good mother. I have those fears. Husband says that I have to high Expectations for myself, so I'm trying to look at the Reality of this, of what I CAN and CAN'T do. Turns out there's a lot. 

I've been trying to stay positive. And for the most part, I can. In front of people. But in the middle of the night, when I thrown up water, again, and I'm sitting curled around the toilet, praying that it will please just stop, those are the times when it's really hard. When I eat something and immediately have to go get rid of it, those are the times when it's really hard. 

People keep asking me how I'm doing. I'm so excited for my baby, but so sick and so sick of being sick, some times I just don't know what to say. Because no one plans for this, no one wants this. 

Maybe this week was just one of the roughest (it was...I mean, heller, we had a trip to the freaking ER...), at one point, I cried for my Mommy. I threw up on a friends lawn because I couldn't make it home. Some one mentioned seeing me walk out of church several times last week...these things, they embarrass me. They do. I know no one cares, I know people care about my health and that of our little girl, but it doesn't make any of it easier. 

I am slowly but surely connecting the Reality of what is happening to the way that I feel. It's been hard though. And some days I'm not so good at it. Like when I have to call my boss and tell her I can't make it to work, again. Or worse, when I throw up in front of the young man I work with. He's probably traumatized for life. 

So many people care about us, about my Husband, about Me, about Baby Girl. We know this. I know this. I have a sister in law who calls to check on me, and I love her for it. I have a friend who lets me complain and vent. I have a midwife who I call about every blessed thing and who GENUINELY CARES about what is happening to us. It's those times when no one is here, and I've thrown up water again, and I can't eat because I'm scared, but I still force something down that still comes up, that it gets hard. 

And I know, I KNOW, that she is worth this. I get it. STOP TELLING ME THIS. I know. I haven't forgotten that in June I get to meet this precious little thing that my husband and I created together. I'm not there yet though. I'm just not. 

Be patient with me as I adjust my Expectations and accept the Reality of this all...believe me, it's a lot to take in.