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…

What I've Been Learning

It had been quite some time since I have taken the time to sit down and write. I've (as per usual) written several posts in the interim, with the INTENTION of typing it all out for you all. But the truth of it, I have been far to preoccupied to actually sit and write it all down.

My baby girl is already growing too fast. We have visited family, taken road trips, gone to the doctor (maybe because I'm slightly paranoid), taken about thirty billion pictures, and I have learned so much about grace and love and myself that to begin to tell you about it would take eons.

Eleanor is sleeping in her swing. She is napping, late at night, and I am letting her. Maybe I let her grandmother feed her a bottle, maybe I prayed she would sleep so that I could nap as well. Maybe there is a large pile of clothes on our bed waiting to be folded. And they might continue to wait while I write about how the motherhood thing has taken me and stretched me and made me so much better.

This week God truly worked in my heart to remind me to stop thinking so much of self and to start thinking more about the cross. About selflessness. I've read articles written by other mothers that brought me to tears, and I've sat in my car and cried out to the Lord, and I've sung "Lord I need you, Oh I need you, every hour I need you" quietly to my girl at three AM when she woke up to eat. I want Ellie to know the Lord, His Grace, but if I can't show it to her, then who will she learn it from?

I've caught myself thinking things like "I just want to read, alone, for an hour without worrying about her" or "I used to be able to go to the gym whenever I wanted" or "I used to spend hours painting". All things that I used to do, by myself. Things are not easy. I can't just go out without making sure she is taken care of or making sure that I have my pump (things can be uncomfortable pretty quickly without it...), things as easy as running into a store are difficult now. I found myself resenting it. Resenting the slow down pace I need to take now. Resenting that the room is never clean enough or the laundry never seems to actually be done.

So I had a moment. God reminded me, gently like He does, that His grace is enough. That letting laundry be put to the side to snuggle my precious girl is ok. That she is worth not having the time to read, or paint, or draw like I used. Not that I don't still get to do those things, I am and I have been doing the things I love. Maybe I can't devote hours to them, but I am still me. I am just me with this beautiful baby girl.

She is enough. I've said before that I never knew how selfish I was until I got married. Now I have to triple that since I've been blessed to be a mother. I have been called to this. My hear feels so full when I see her little face. Knowing that for her, I am her world right now. She is completely dependent on me, she loves me. And you know, things are so easy right now, I think most first time parents would tell you that this time was challenging for them as well. But Ellie has no idea.

She has no idea that laundry doesn't get done on time. She has no idea that I'm exhausted when I come home from work. She has no idea that sometimes I get crazy and annoyed with people. She has no idea that sometimes Blair and I fight. She has no idea what bills are, or what money is. She has no idea that we live with her grandparents. Do you know she knows? Love. Our voices. Our faces. She knows that in the middle of the night I pick her up to feed her. She knows that I change her diapers and wash her little body. She knows that I keep her close and snuggle her when her Aunt Abbie accidentally hits her head. She got so upset that she was hurt...and calmed as soon as she was in my arms. She knows me. She knows love.

And if that is enough for her, that's enough for me.

This motherhood thing is no joke. For anyone. Whether you stay at home, work full time or part time, it doesn't matter. It is a calling, one worthy of all my time and selflessness.

Eleanor ranks so much higher in my life than all those other things that used to be or could have been important.

Anyways, that's what I've been thinking about. Here, have some pictures. These are a few of my favorites. :)

Almost There

This summer, I've been stretched in ways I never thought possible. Being a mother is single handedly the hardest and best thing I have ever done. It has made me realize how incredible God is, and how much I need help. It also made me realize how much I need time to myself. Sometimes taking a shower is the best thing that ever happened in the whole world.

I've thought a lot about some things I really want to share with people. I think, more than anything, it comes to this: it amazing to be around people who know my heart.

For as long as I can remember this is what I've wanted. Last night, Ellie decided sleep was not what she wanted or needed, so I was rocking and singing to Itty Bitty, talking to Blair. I said "Sometimes, I don't think you understand the gift you've given me." Even at four in the morning, with only cat naps to go on, I remembered that this is what I've wanted my whole life. I've wanted to be a Mommy, I've wanted to be a Wife, I wanted the four AM feedings, the diaper changes, and that sweet smile Ellie has while she nurses so close to my heart.

A lot of the people in my life know this. I got a hug from a great friend at camp and she whispered to me "I'm glad you have your dream." (I'm glad she is getting hers as well.) I would not say I'm where I want to be in life, by no means have I "arrived". But I'm so much closer. So so so much closer.

Thank you. Thank you to the friends who stood by me when I became enamored with my first my husband, then my daughter. Thank you to the friends who know that my life is different now. Thank you to the friends who knew that I would not be as available as I used to be. Thank you to you all, because I'm still me, and I needed support.

I love Blair. I love my Ellie girl. I love this stupid little room where we live for right now. I don't always mind four am any more, and I realize that I will probably not sleep through the night for a long long long time. I am learning what is worth saying to my husband and what I need to keep to myself. I am learning how to balance time with a baby who depends solely on me for food and comfort, with a husband who is still very very very much in love with me. I am learning to still love my body, despite wider hips and a flabbier belly and less time to devote to working out. I am learning how to find God is quiet moments, how to pray instead of just thinking, how to glorify him in everything, still. I am learning.

I'm almost there. I feel almost there. This is a life I wanted so badly that I can't even imagine how it could even be better. It's hard and sloppy, I have been pooped, peed, and vomited on, and it's great. It's honestly great. Because seeing her smile makes four am less lonely and all the sudden, it's the best time in the world.

Thank you. To those who know what Ellie means to my life, who know how filled I am with joy, thank you.