Where I Am

More and more recently as I start to focus on relationships and people, I have come to see that my life is getting...simpler.

We all lead complex lives. We have things we MUST do and places we MUST go and things that MUST be accomplished. To be functioning adults this is true. It is true that we need to work to feed our family, to take care of what God has given us.

I can't help but wonder though...am I giving up the best things in pursuit of the good?

Sometimes, I leave dishes in the sink at night. Sometimes, it is better for me to take a nap with my girl and not fold laundry. Sometimes, she hides things and they go missing under the couch for months. Sometimes, well, always, her toys are scattered about...taking what would otherwise be a clean space and transforming it into a somewhat messier lived in space.

It is good to clean your house. It is good to make it functioning. It is good to not have ants in your kitchen. And yet...and yet...

I don't want to be so consumed with making my house picture perfect that I don't stop to dance with Ellie while she dances. I don't want to be so intent on folding laundry that I don't put her on our (unmade) bed to throw her around and hear her sweet sweet giggles. Those things are the best. Those things will be treasured in my heart. The good things can be put on hold for a moment to stop and savor the best things...

I have been making an effort to be more Intentional. Intentional about the time I spend with God, the time I spend with my husband, the time I spend with Ellie, the time I spend with my physical and spiritual family. When a person is laid on my heart, I let them know. When I feel the need to STOP and pray for someone, I do. When Blair is gone now at nights, instead of watching a show, or reading a book I clean things up or I read my Bible.

I am finding that life has become simpler.

I feel at Peace. I feel Joy. I am able to empathize more with those who are hurting. I am able to spend more time with Blair. I am finding my cup is filled, and with it filled I am able to pour it our freely to others.

I am not perfect. I make mistakes. Loads of them. But I am learning. I am trusting. I am being filled day in and day out with the Holy Spirit which is helping me through another rough pregnancy.

I still throw up a lot. I still have a hard time keeping food down a lot of days. Someone today asked me "Well why do it then? Why not get your tubes tied?" Because in this case, I am not a selfish person. Mothers are incredibly selfless...we give and we give and we cry out to God because there are times when we feel there is nothing left to offer. I keep telling the Lord "Thank you for being stronger in my weakness." I especially tell Him this when I curled around our toilet, asking Him to see me through this, because I KNOW that the end result is so so so worth it. I put aside myself, I die to myself, every. Single. Day. And I simply follow. I simply allow myself to be led and fed and built up by the body of believers. I am humble, and I admit those days that are my worst. "You can do this! You can rock this pregnancy!" someone commented on my Facebook within the last week. Simple words that filled me, so that I could in turn feed and fill others.

The more intentional I become about spending time alone with the Lord and more intentional I get about spending time with my community of believers the more in Love I am falling with my Savior.

And isn't that the point? To fall more and more in Love with the Savior?

And then in turn pour that out to those who don't know that Love?

This is my heart right now. This is where I am.

Where are you?

Words of Life

"In the beginning was the Word, and the was with God and the Word was God."

We were spoken into existence with words. God spoke and therefore, we were, in all our ugly, beautiful, crazy, mundane, human glory.

Words. God used words to give us life.

Words hold so much weight and power. They have the power to heal, to tear down, to build up, to bring people to their knees. I'm reminded of a Dr. Who episode, "I can bring you down with words...Doesn't she look tired?" (For the record, I have no clue if I quoted that right, I'm not the Dr.Who fan, that's the husband.)

We are told as children that sticks and stones can break our bones, but words can never hurt us. What a load of crap. Someones words, carefully placed, can resonate in our heads for weeks and weeks and years and years. They have power. That's why God used to them to speak life into us.

Recently, some words were said about me. By who and about what are not important. What is important is since then, every single day has been a battle. A battle to fight the negative thoughts that crept into my heart. "You are not enough, you are not good, you are not worthwhile, you are worthless, useless, unloved..." Round and round and round.

I have been fighting friends, to remember the Truth. The Words that Jesus would speak into my life. Words about love and hope and encouragement. The gentle reminders that in my weakness, He is stronger. That my worth is from Him and Him alone. It is astounding that the words of one can out weigh the words of ten who do speak these words into my life.

My husband came home and found me in tears, because last night I wasn't feeling good, had gotten sick, and didn't cook him dinner. I was crying because I didn't cook him dinner. I was crying because there are two baskets of clothes that needed to be folded. I was crying because I was spotting yesterday, and was afraid for the baby I carry. I was crying because Ellie was crying and I couldn't vacuum. I was crying because those words had slowly seeped into my heart to make me so insecure that I thought that me not doing those things was going to affect my husbands love for me.

He took me into his arms and reminded me...

He reminded me that I am unfinished and imperfect. He reminded me that nothing I could do would make him love me less. He reminded me that he knows I'm doing my best. Without words he reminded me of Grace and Love and Forgiveness and that tomorrow is a brand new day. In one wordless hug he reminded me that for him, right now, I am enough. Just like I'm enough for the Lord.

I will always be careful with my words, and will apologize and beg forgiveness when I am not. Because the words I speak have so much power in peoples lives. Regardless of if I mean them to or not.

My daughter and this new baby I carry, will grow up hearing words from me.

It is my choice to speak life into their lives, or to use those words to put them down.

I will chose to speak life. It is the example I have been given, and it is beautiful.

Ok

This is my second miscarriage. Everyone wants to know how I am.

Here's how I am. I'm ok.

Just ok.

My first miscarriage was my first pregnancy and it hurt my heart like no other. It came fast and swift and a week later it was all done and my body had healed physically. It was the emotional scars that I had to deal with that first time.

This time, it's not so much an emotional turmoil as much as it is a physical thing.

I'll spare you details that are better meant to be told to a doctor, but I am going to tell you that this time it has been painful. And it has lasted a long time. In fact, as of right now, losing this baby is still not over. I am reminded constantly that my body rejected another baby. I live with that everyday and I doing my best to accept it.

My heart was prepared to lose this little one. For weeks I'd been telling my husband that we needed to see if this baby had a heartbeat. I had many nightmares about waking up...well, not in a good state. When I started spotting, I knew right away. When we went to see the doctor, I knew that even though she was hopeful that when we went for that ultrasound that I would not see a heartbeat.

I prayed that I was wrong.

I begged to be wrong.

Fact is though, I wasn't.

And I'm ok.

I haven't been to work much because like I said, there's a fair amount of pain this time. Last Wednesday I was afraid I wouldn't make it home.

What you might not know about miscarriage is that my body is in labor. A much milder form, and the baby is (understandably) much smaller, but labor none the less. It hurts. It is not something I wanted to ever know about.

I was mad for a split second, because we just got comfortable enough to announce and tell people. Not even a week later and we were telling people there was no heartbeat. I think that because of my reaction to my first loss everyone...I don't know....expects something from me. They expect me to be sadder. More upset. Vocal. I don't feel that way this time. I feel analytically and factual. I feel tired. I take a lot of Tylenol. I've asked Blair for a lot of alone time.

I'm ok.

I still find all these beautiful things to look at every day. Things to be thankful for and that touch my heart. Every day with Ellie is still a miracle and there are some amazing people who are here for me and who love me. I have already started receiving cards from people reminding me of the love that Christ has for us and how we are not alone.

I don't feel alone.

I just feel...well, at the moment, I don't feel much. Maybe I will. Maybe this will hit me in November when I realize that I'm not preparing to give birth to a full term baby. Maybe I'll get sad when I look into Blair's eyes and realize how sad I am that we don't have a little boy with his eyes and dimples. Maybe it will hit me like a ton of bricks and my world will fall apart.

That's not where I am right now though. Right now, this night, (when I should be sleeping because Ellie is....) I'm just ok.

So thank you. Thank you for your love support well wished condolences all of it, thank you.

But God knew what His plans for this baby were, and He prepared my heart. So while I am giving my body time to heal, for the most part, I'm ok.

Really.

I'm ok.

Remember

I sat down the intention of writing a super awesome blog post. I have all these ideas about what to write and why I want to write. In the end though...I'm not really sure what I want to say.

I feel like a lot of it as already been said. I offer no new insights. No new convictions to spur you on to becoming a better human. What does Ecclesiastes say? There is nothing new under the sun? I get that now.

There are beautiful struggles that we've been through. Terrible sleepless nights, there have been tears, and emergency room trips. There has been laughter and joy and these beautiful moments where we look at one another and at our daughter and it's all too much. In the past month there have been fights and arguments and disappointments. There has simply been Life.

Each day, each minute, each second, we are surviving. We are learning new things, about ourselves, and about our baby. We have accepted adventures and trials with what grace we could muster.

Some people describe their lives as beautiful, and I wonder, how? How can a pile of dishes and laundry that NEVER EVER ends be beautiful? I don't think my life is beautiful all the time. I think it's a mess. I think I am a mess. After all, I am mother now. I'm not sure that my shirts are ever truly clean, and if they are, don't worry they won't be for long.

Some people describe these wonderful marriages, and I wonder how? We fight. I get annoyed with him and sometimes, I just want him to go away. Or to let me go away. Sometimes I go to bed and wait for him to come to bed and when he does he wakes me up and then I want to punch him in the face. And he's a man, he is smelly. All the time. Then he makes me dinner, and does the laundry, or lets me take a nap and I remember how much I love him.

If I could throw my life into one word, that's what it would be. Remember. I'm in a state of remembrance. I remember how it felt to first be married (we are coming up on two years now...and I love that), I remember how he held me when he saw me after I lost our first baby, I remember kissing him after we had our little girl, smiling and saying "We did it babe, she's so beautiful." I remember what it was like to sleep through the night and what it was like to spend an ENTIRE day BY MYSELF. I remember how selfish I used to be. I remember.

I remember that in all things there is purpose and that for everything there is a season. I remember that God promises not to leave me or forsake me, that He promises to walk with me. I remember His promises. I remember how He wept for His friend, and how He weeps when I do, even if I am alone in the shower and all I want to go to bed.

My life is not always beautiful, but I remember when it is. I mark it down. Talk about it. So that my friends can look at me and say "Yes, that happened and it was beautiful."

Sneaky Soul Killer

It's 9 and I'm pretty tired but not tired enough to shut down my brain and crawl into bed. I look around at out little room at the pile of dirty laundry, the unfolded clean clothes, and the various baby toys strewn about. There are two laundry baskets just sitting in our room and I'm not even sure why. As I look I think "How do other moms do it?"

And therein lies where my heart truly is.

Comparison. The kind that eats into your soul just a little at a time. It's so sneaky. So small. You don't even realize it's happening, until you realize that it's happening. And I realized it's happening.

I compare myself a lot to the idea of what I call the Put Together Momma.

Why can't I be as active as other moms? Why don't I go see people more, like other moms? Why isn't my ONE ROOM ALWAYS immaculate? I mean, other moms have whole HOUSES and they keep up with it. Why don't I have delicious dinners waiting for my husband to come home to? Why does 20 hours of working (no matter how much I love my job, and I do love it) feel like 80 by the end of the week? Other moms work 40 and still manage to have time with their little ones...

Other moms. Other people. Why this, why that...why do I even bother I want to ask.

This simple thing crushes your soul. I find myself asking if I'm good enough. I find myself begging to be better.

It takes a moment to sink in, that I am doing the best that I can with what I have right now. That the truth of my life is that by the time I get home from an 8 hour shift, I. Am. Tired. And I would rather take a hot shower than fold clothes. I would rather hold my snuggley baby at night rather than put her down and go to sleep myself.

I remind myself that we all have our struggles. While I appreciate those moms who seem to have to all together, I know they have their own moments of doubt. I think each mother does.

I will not compare myself to you, Put Together Momma. I will not. I will love you, like Christ loves me, because that's all I can do. And I am learning, slowly, to love myself the way Christ loves me. After all, I need Grace sometimes too.

Sweetness in Life, Not Death

When I was either 18 or 19 I decided I was old enough to drive down to Tennessee and be with my big brothers for Thanksgiving. It was the first BIG trip that I had ever taken by myself. I gathered my things and spent a whole week with some of the best people I know and love.

While I was there I had the chance to go to my older brothers college group at his church. I will never forget this experience. And here lately there has been something that keeps running through my head.

It was something that (are you ready for this?) my sister in law's sister in law said (My brothers wife has a younger brother, that younger brother is married, his wife said something that I won't forget). (Side note, said sister in law is awesome, said sister in law sisters in law is awesome, we've had some good times).

She was talking about Samson and something he did before he, you know, tore down pillars and met a crazy chicken who cut of his hair. One day he was walking down the road and he ate some honey he found in the skull of a dead animal. (Judges 14:9) Israelite s were forbidden from eating anything out a dead animal. As she told us about this story, she had tears in her eyes as she described how this world has tried to give us sweetness from dead things. How we will never truly know how sweet anything is from that death, and she wanted to run after sweetness that is found in life, in Christ.

For some reason, I've been thinking about this a lot lately. But in a different way. Because I've got this beautiful baby girl now, and she's so...alive. Very alive. Even at three in the morning. Sometimes very late at night. And while this time is tiring and hard and new, it's beautiful and wonderful, and yes sweet.

I am finding the sweetness of life when my husband comes home dog tired and he still plays with our baby girl. When she smiles at him and giggles at him.

I am finding sweetness in an extra hour and half of sleep when Ellie's Grandma Jaques steals in her in the morning without me even knowing.

I am finding sweetness in her smiles while she nurses at my breast, that intimate moment where she knows that she is loved and that I love her. It so sweet.

I am finding out how sweet it is to share stories with my boss at work, who loves her daughter as much as I love mine. We swap stories and talk about our lives, and I thankful for her mentor-ship.

THIS is where we are meant to find sweetness. In Life. Abundant life.

It's the Christmas season and it's so very easy to forget where life is and what it's really about. My daughter is life and I am finding sweetness not in the dead things any more. I don't find sweetness in empty relationships or money or working out or stuff. I am finding sweetness in life, in my daughters smile, and my husbands wisdom. In people who have overcome so much and who are still praising God, who still smile through heart break.

It's so easy for me to forget that there is sweetness. And it's easy to forget that it's found in Life, true Life (meaning Christ and his gifts to us) and not death. Never death.

Gifts

Every now and again, I get these thoughts. They stick with me, glued there in the back of my mind. I’m not sure what started this thought. I’m not sure where it came from. Nothing in particular happened. It just started. Now it won’t stop until I just share it.

It’s not for who you might think it’s for. In fact, the intended audience even surprises me. When this one tiny thought bubbled into my head it exploded at a group of my peers. At my community. At the Christians in this world, in this County, in this state, maybe even in my home town.

Here’s the deal: we had a baby. A beautiful, precious baby girl. We are and were young. We are and were not sure what we were doing. We were sure of one thing though, and that is what the bible has to say about children, about babies. About them being a blessing. About how Faith can be as small as a mustard seed and it can be all that you need.

Not everyone applies this to every aspect of their lives though.

Christians, when did babies and children become what the world thinks instead of what God thinks? When did we decide to pass judgment on our own people, the ones who feel called to raise and love their children? When did we decide that we needed to comment on how many kids a woman has, or how far apart her children are? Why can’t we simply love one another and stay out of their uteruses?

I don’t understand. I don’t understand being told that Eleanor was a choice. She was our choice? Really? Is that why I cried when I found out I was pregnant with her, terrified I would watch myself bled out and miscarry again? I really wanted that, right. I had to give up a lot of fear and doubt and remember that the God who parted the Red Sea was also the God who had given my husband and I this gift.

We need to change how we think Christians.

When we devalue the loss of a baby at 7 weeks, we are devaluing life. If you read the Bible, you know that life is important to God. So we get up in arms about abortion but don’t comfort the weeping mother who is struggling with each day because she miscarried? I don’t understand. We preach and tell the world that babies are not choices, and then we tell young Christian couples that it was their choice to have babies so they can deal with all that entails on their own? What?

We needed help after our daughter was born. We still do. I still go talk to my mother and other Christian women in my church, asking for their help, advice, and comfort. I still need help doing laundry some days, because I’m just so tired. I still text my sister in law about things like cradle cap, and ask my best friend who had her daughter the same day if she is experiencing the same thing.

I’m not asking people to pay our hospital bills. I’m not asking people to be up with me at four am. I am tired, but I don’t go around complaining about it, I knew I would be. Believe me, you adjust. You become less selfish. You have to. It’s not about you anymore.

I am asking that people love us. That they don’t say demeaning things. That they don’t judge the piles of laundry, or make fun of me because I didn’t do half the things I thought I’d do. I am asking that Christians stop acting like babies are only good under certain circumstances, within the walls that they place. Christ lived outside of the boxes we put Him in. If He’s bigger than all the things we say He’s bigger than, then why aren’t children included in that?

We are such a society that picks and chooses.

So. To every couple that had a honey moon baby, to every mother who just didn’t have time to shower. To all the Mommy’s who are crying right now because it’s their third, fourth, or Heaven forbid, fifth child and they don’t feel loved, to every mom who knows what it’s like to be sick and nursing an infant, to all the Dad’s who work to pay bills and feel that they aren’t home enough. To the Momma in the grocery store with the screaming two year old and the round belly of life, to all those who feel like you are devalued because how much you love you babies, or are afraid to announce your fifth precious baby, please know, from the bottom of my heart, I. Love. You.

You are enough. You are beautiful. You are hard working. You valued in the eyes of our Savior. I feel like this has been said before, there are plenty of blog posts out there that say these same things. But it needs to be said, again and again and again. Because our hearts are so full of love, because we think that no one knows how we feel. Because someone in your Church made a comment about how “it’s your fifth so you don’t need a baby shower”. Every child is a gift. Not a choice. If they were choices, there wouldn’t be any children. Because our world is a selfish one. And Christians are just swimming right along with the world…and I can’t stand it any more…