beauty among the brown.

Today was an early Michigan Spring that begged us all outside.

For me, springtime absolutely takes the cake when it comes to the 4 seasons we experience here in the midwest and I take special delight in its arrival signs.   The first weed in the garden,  my first robin sighting,  and oh, the rejoicing when I first lay eyes on a blooming daffodil!

Last week, as a family we journeyed to spend a week in Florida.  I marveled the whole trip down.  Each state greener than the last as the temperatures rose and the clouds cleared.   Usually, about Virginia I find my daffodils.
I squeal, "there they are!" and my family teases me for the rest of the trip.
It's not quite the same on the trek back home.  Not so much marveling as mourning as we cross state lines back to Michigan. It's remarkable, really. The closer we get to the Mitten the cloudier and browner it gets.  Last year,  and I am not kidding -- the moment we passed the border to our home state,  it started raining.   5 years ago when we returned from a Spring Break trip a storm would come to pass in our lives.

Today I was neck deep in post vacation laundry chaos but finally made it out of my robe at noon to go outside to hang a couple of white shirts on the clothesline. I glanced around looking for emerging signs of life and suddenly remembered the special daffs that grew rogue amongst the brush and tangle behind the shed.   I couldn't find them at first and felt a bit desperate.  So special these daffodils because of the year my daughter Joy discovered them and came running into the house to gift them to me.
"They just have to be here" I thought.
And then I spotted them.
I was filled with gratitude.  As long as the earth endures!
Life bursting up through last year's death.
For me, among many things in the last 5 years, daffodils have been a symbol of God's goodness.
His sovereignty.
His grace.
His love.

5 years ago this night I was quietly admitted to the hospital and we numbly waited on my delivery of our 5th baby who was still, who had passed in my womb. We named her April. I don't think my typed words can rightly express how wonderful and beautifully made she was, how loved she is, and how painful it was. I speak of the pain in somewhat past tense as 5 years has given us much healing and hindsight. It's all I wanted back then, you know... to rush to the future, to restoration, back to the normal. But time does not speed nor slow. In this life we are given sorrow but promised that good will come from it. Friends,  so much good has come, I have been taught so much.  We are grateful.  Let's go out for coffee and I will tell you all about it.

That day, much like today Spring had sprung all around but I couldn't see it through my swollen eyes and broken heart.  Today I see. I trusted through the hurt that each new Spring, when the daffodils blossomed -  I'd know God's grace in greater measure.  The only way to move forward after you've handed over your lifeless baby to a nurse only to go home empty 5 minutes later, is to continue to lay it all down at the feet of Christ. The months and years went by and He is faithful.
My challenge, my lifeline during these times of trial is to see the gifts God gives,  trust His sufficiency, and rest in His love.

God can bring New Life to the hopeless heart.
His Grace is certain and His Salvation sure.
He will display beauty among the brown.

April's Story

an offering

I remember my Mom telling me what song they sang in church the Sunday morning following my delivery of our 5th baby,  a girl we named April.     Mom said I would have had a difficult time singing the words,  as did she that Spring Sunday morning, 3 years ago.

Blessed be Your Name

On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name

The reality of pregnancy loss and the literal giving away of our deceased baby to the nurse was,  as the lyrics of the song truthfully convey,  a painful offering. 

Was it a true offering?   Something (someone) was being taken that I was unwilling to give.  At the time it seemed to make no earthly sense.

Why was I given only 17 weeks to carry her? 

Was I to offer God the life of this baby?  a life that had already ended?  

I used to think of an offering as a voluntary action.  I give my time or my service,  or maybe even a gift or tithe.   Offerings were something I initiated,  that I was comfortable with.   Meaningful and fruitful,  but not painful offerings. 

3 years ago today God moved in my life to make an offering of a different sort.   When faced with the devastation and sadness of April's death I learned (although not immediately) that I had to offer it all back to the Lord.   The confusion,  the ache,  the tears,  the emptiness,  the doubt,  the fear.    I had to release my plans,  our hopes for the child this baby would become.   Hanging on so tightly to these things would never give me peace.

The song continues and within the chorus, these words:

You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name

I had always found these lyrics perplexing.
Yes,  God gives.  That was easy to see.  All I had to do was look at the beautiful faces of my 4 children.
He gives immeasurably more than we need and most certainly more than what's deserved.  Perhaps this song speaks also of the comfort God gives,  or the Grace and love he lavishes on us.   Or the joy in Salvation that circumstance can't deplete.  
He gives.

But,  the next part...
He gives... AND takes away?  Lord Blessed be your Name?  
If I sing this,  do I claim that God took our baby?   am I supposed to praise His name anyway?
That seemed to make lesser sense.
Praising God in the midst of pain is work,  it is a choice,  it's an offering.  It takes faith.  For me it opened my heart for healing.  I believe this song speaks also to the way Jesus takes away our hurts,  our anger,  our sadness,  our guilt,  our sin. 
He takes. 

I don't want to imply that 3 years later everything is tied up nicely with a bow and this chapter is closed.  Nor do I mean to over simplify healing or equate my loss with the pain another may be experiencing.  I do desire to be honest about what I've learned.  I am thankful to see the ways the Spirit moves in my life through our loss of April.    So, yes.  Her short life was an offering.   An offering of my heart to ways that were not my own.   A yielding to the Father when my circumstance was beyond my understanding.

In those days I realized with new eyes that God held my life,   just as He held April's life until the moment her heart stopped beating,  and that He holds her still today.

If you are new or are interested in reading more about my story...

 Here is a link to click.  It's a summary with additional links to other posts.

15.

I wanted to do this 2 months ago, but you know how it is...  life gets in the way.

So,  15 years and 2 months into our marriage we celebrate 

with this slideshow of photos... through the years,  

and a wedding prayer.

Every step we are breathing in Your grace
Evermore we’ll be breathing out Your praise.
You are faithful, God, You are faithful.

--- Matt Redman Never Once 

Father in heaven,
        give today your blessing
        upon the marriage of Dan and Michelle.
      We thank you for the vows
        they have spoken
        and the love in which
        they are now united.
      Keep them faithful and strong
        in every trial.
      Sustain their joy and affection
        for many years.
      We pray, Lord Jesus,
        that you will be acknowledged
        head of their home
        and master of their lives.
      Equip them, Holy Spirit,
          with patient endurance,
      sacrificial service, unfailing courtesy,
        endless trust, and lasting love.
      Grant that their home
        will often be a place of laughter;
        and in times of difficulty or trouble,
        a haven of healing and forgiveness.
      May they and their children
        give constant praise to you,
        eternal Father, who with the Son and the Spirit
        is God, blessed and exalted forever. Amen.

a Mother's love.

My mom and I,  with April.

A sad photo,   but a beautiful love.

Happy Mother's Day!

May God bring you all the joys, comfort,  peace,  gratitude, love and hope that a day like this can bring.

2 years

There are certain landmarks,  places in my everyday life
that when I pass by them...
I remember...

I am never so healed that I can't still feel the sadness.

Just a linger in my mind for awhile on a silent night brings me back.
2 years.

I am that kind of person that has to feel,  has to recall,  has to express.   I really couldn't let the 2 year mark of our baby's death and my delivery of her go unmentioned.   It was too important an event in our lives and even 2 years past I still get emotional at the thought of what we went through.
That is OK,  and good.   Freedom from hurt is not my goal.   Grieving is not some kind of ladder to climb and when you reach the top you are free.  That kind of freedom just can't be found on this earth.   Strange as it may seems, I am thankful for the scar.

On the evening of April 14, 2010 we were scheduled at the hospital for the induction and delivery of our 5th baby,  already passed away.   We pulled up to the emergency room entrance like we had done 4 times before.  This time was so very different.  There was no excitement,  only sorrow.   A smiling man came out with the wheelchair to escort me.    He didn't know why I was there. 
I didn't need a wheelchair,  but I sat in it anyway.    Someone wheeled me up to the corner room,   far away from all the other labor and delivery mothers.   My nurses that night already knew this was a case of fetal demise and I truly believe they were chosen by God to be at my side.

They. were. wonderful. 

I recognized the mauve floral print of the wallpaper and decor of the hospital room.   It used to be quaint and inviting.

It no longer was.  

I hated being in that gown, wearing those slipper socks.  I prayed about how I would find the strength to deliver a dead baby as my poor husband sat lovingly and helplessly by my side.

I just wanted to get it over with.  Why couldn't they just knock me out, I thought?
Why?   Why did I have to be conscious of what was about to happen.   Honestly,  I felt like a terrified child.   I cried and I cried.   I wanted that baby,  I wanted to carry her all summer,  and deliver her full and alive on or around September 17.   That was the plan,  My plan.

God's plan was different.
His ways are for my good.   Always.   It was a truth I knew even in those moments.
He would sustain me.   I just had to trust that.

April 14 turned into April 15 and at 4:12am,   almost unintentionally I delivered a very small  but incredibly real,  still,  baby.

I wailed.
Dan held my hand and encouraged me, and watched in somewhat disbelief as well.
Now what?

This is where the healing begins.

As with any baby birth,  visitors followed.   At first I wanted no one there,  followed by wanting everyone there to see the reality of it.   (I felt they wouldn't, they couldn't fully understand unless they saw her)    But then, again   I wanted no one there.

Our pastor visited us and I remember feeling bad that in the midst of a beautiful spring day he had to attend to and enter in to our sorrow.     He sat with us,   really let us be exactly where we were at,  prayed with us and ultimately encouraged me with his confidence that I would not lose my faith over this,  that I would certainly grieve but April's death was not a dealbreaker for me.   I was stronger than that, and most importantly God's love is strongest and I was firmly in His grip.   


Everytime  I pass by the church bathroom,   visit our family doctor and see that exam room,  drive the on ramp to the highway,  see the daffodils bloom,   wash Dan's black sweatshirt,   converse with our pastor,  hear specific songs (the one playing in the background)-  I go there.

2 years later I don't know why God chose to take her to him.   But I do have the gift of hindsight. Looking back I clearly see some of the ways God moved, lead, comforted.

In our hearts she leaves a legacy, in our hearts her very short life had value. In my heart I want to hold her again. Until then, I will continue to open the healing gifts that God gives.

Happy 2nd heavenly birthday, April.

Today we honor, remember, and thank God for you.

damaged goods/beautiful things

Hearts will Mend in time...but they will never be the same....

This phrase says it so well.
This post is a bit heavy and lengthy,  but bear with me (or not) -- it does me so much good to get the swirling thoughts out.    I promise my next post will be airy and full on minivan musings.

Anyone who has ever lost a loved one--be they old, middle age, way too young,  or even unborn knows that it changes your heart.  That is the way of this life.   Hearts will Mend in time...but they will never be the same....

This of course was true of me after April.

I was gifted this necklace at Christmas and it's such a cool visual.

The lines represent the mending of a broken heart.   

 

 

The birthstone is for the month of April.  

Truly,  my life has resumed the normalcy I longed for and a full, full heart beats this day.  
But,  I do see evidences that I am somewhat damaged goods.  Maybe that sounds harsh, but it's okay.

Allow me to explain.    There are things that bother me about my now mended heart.    Today, when I hear of a new pregnancy announcement I still mentally hold my breath until that baby's live birth.   That bugs me.   Why can't I assume that all will be perfectly fine?  Because statistically speaking,  it nearly always is.  But still,  my heart worries.

I'm not sure I can accurately write about the guilt I feel for the time when my dear friend was fighting for the life of her baby.   I had doubts that God would heal.   Even with Naomi at my breast (my proof that God gives) my damaged side ached and angered they might be asked to give this baby back to God.    I really longed for the absolute conviction (that many did have)  that Tessa would be born whole and live a full life.   I was filled with fear for a pain I did not want my dear friends to know.   I wish I could go back and change my thinking.  

And here's more...
Recently,  I was able to participate through singing at a service honoring the sanctity of human life, specifically unborn life.     This is a yearly event in our area and last year as well as this  brought about for me intense emotion.
The music,  the images on the video presentation,   the life like models detailing second a trimester baby.
If at any time my damage was felt,  it was that night.    I held it together during the service but following it,  I hugged my mom and for some reason then and there, the pain of my loss came rushing back.
I had not felt that pain in quite a long time,  and it surprised me that yet,  there is still was.

Our pastor shared this with us once... 

"Grief can be fickle. 

Everyone seems to experience it a bit differently.   

It's also a bit shifty.  Profound sadness, anger, and fear
can also be replaced by calm and joy--

but then pop up again
unexpectedly"

Damaged goods.   Like a dented soup can.   Still functional and purposeful but with a bruise that can't be perfectly erased.


Beautiful Things.

We sang a song that aforementioned night titled Beautiful Things.  ( you may or may not be listening to it in the background)  If I spend all this energy explaining why I am damaged goods,  I also need to talk about the beautiful things that have come.

Last month I passed by the 2 year mark of learning I was pregnant with April.   Since I learned that information in our church bathroom,  I just had to have a moment there a couple weeks ago.    I walked into the same stall and sat there thinking about the wonderful shock I learned there and how my life was about to change in so many ways.  I said a true bathroom prayer of thanks for her life and death--every bit of it.  The hope, the joy,  the sadness,  the fear,  the pain,  the confusion. What her life and death meant to my husband,  to our kids.   It is a beautiful thing.   

For me, April's life had so much meaning.   I am still discovering the blessing that she was.   
My friendships deepened.  I felt truly loved and learned how to truly love,  in all things.   

We were given Naomi.

My Drew has said to me more than once,

" Mom,  if April didn't die,  would we have Naomi?"
"I guess not",  I reply.

It didn't always set well with me when folks said just that.   If April wouldn't have passed away,  I wouldn't have Naomi.  True as that is,  I wanted them both.   Today I can find peace in knowing that one waits for me and I will know her again.

With hindsight I can know that when grief pops up unexpectedly (or even expected) it is a Beautiful thing.  
Because,  feeling is more nourishing than avoiding.  
Remembering how we were held during that time, initiates deep gratitude.
Experiencing that loss gifted me a new compassion,  a new heart for the hurting.  



This list could go on.  And it will, my whole life through--
because I choose to see the beauty shining through the damage.

Let me Hold you Longer.

Recently, my Mom gifted me a book.

It looks like a child's book, all big and square with a book jacket. In actuality it is a book just written for an oldish mom like me.

The book is titled
Let Me Hold You Longer
By Karen Kingsbury

If you don't mind too much, I've a little heart outpouring to do... yet again.

Let me Hold You Longer tells the story of a mother who wishes she had recorded "the lasts"

We mothers take special note of the firsts that our children achieve. But do we always notice the lasts with such sentimentality? I can't say that I did. Until now, that is.

The older Naomi gets the farther away I step from what I adore.

Babyhood.

It's that precious stage from conception to oh, about one year old.  Or whenever they start walking. (whichever comes first)

It's crazy isn't it?  My baby is 8 months old and I feel like she just turned 18.   
Yes,  slightly cRaZy.     But each month it hits me.   This is the last time.
This is the last time.

Since I felt the ache of losing April and never knowing her firsts,   it is fair to say that I am savoring every bit of Naomi's firsts.   But her lasts keep piling up,  as I hold her tighter than I might have had I not known loss.

What I try to take away from all of this firsts and lasts business are these things:

Although it is extreme blessing to record the firsts,  experiencing the lasts is really what my heart desires.  To see them grow, to watch them mature and learn,  live and love.  
All of my (our) children are gifts from a loving God.  And not just in babyhood.    
They are the gift that keeps on giving all throughout my life.   I can bid sad farewell to  each passing month and year,  or I can relish the full life that they are living.  I can record their lasts because perhaps it means more firsts are on the horizon.  

In my last post I had been asking myself the question,  "Now what I do?" 


Recently I've struggled with things like working outside the home,    or the fact that I'm leaving the child bearing years,   and even the insanity of moving to a small farm house.  (that is a different post altogether)  

As for the immediate, the answer is pretty clear. 
Do.  what I do.

Raise my family.  

Notice their firsts and lasts and be grateful for each one.

Long ago you came to me,

a miracle of firsts.

First smiles and teeth and baby steps,

a sunbeam on the burst.

But one day you will move away

and leave me with your past.

And I will be left thinking of 

a lifetime of your lasts. . .

from Let Me Hold You Longer

Get this book.   an inspirational tear jerker.
Thanks for reading. 
And Mom,  Thank you for the book.

what is up.

I interrupt these deep thoughts to offer up a pictorial update.   We've had a crazy packed fall season and before 2011 wraps up I'd like to bring this blog up to speed on things other than my mental gymnastics.

September=  Back to everything.   

school, out of state work,  soccer,  extra-curriculars.

 skating par-tay!

October.
I have to admit it.  As a card carrying member of the anti-Autumn club,  this particular Fall season has been fan-tab-u-lous!    We had mild temperatures here in the Mitten all the way through well, yesterday.   We have only a couple leaf giving trees in our yard,  so the kids had a great time raking up the droppings of this special Maple that my Dad planted here 9 years ago.

 My excellent score from the second hand shop----this vintage slipper chair. 

 October 15.  Our second annual participation in the International Wave of Light. 

It was good.   I looked back on this post  to think on a year ago.

 Annual Pumpkin Decorating/Family dinner/ Birthday party

 ArtPrize '11

 Chase's costume scared(s) me.  

Whatever happened to Thomas the Train?

Naomi and cousin Easton. 

I have a special place in my heart for Easton's costume.   When Chase was a baby,  he was given this handmade little hunter's outfit.   I saved and saved it for someday I had hoped to give it to my brother's son.  I was so delighted to see how perfectly adorable Easton was in his Camo.  

What precious gifts these to babes are!!!!

Girls shopping trip this year took us all the way to Washington DC.   This pic is front of Betsy and Nick's new home in Takoma Park, MD.   A gorgeous weekend spent catching up, shopping and relaxing on very.little.sleep   :)   It was good for me to get away again.  I heart DC and the special loved ones that live there.

We missed you Lia & Sara !!!

That sums up some the doings this fall.  As we enter the holiday season,  I hope to blog about Mom and Dad's 40th anniversary celebration   and  the 30 Day Mom challenge... take two.

How's the grief?

A friend of mine has recently asked me lately how I am doing.

My response to that question is usually one of the following:

"Not too bad..."
"Really great..."
"Busy..."
"Good, how about you?"


I knew though, that she was asking more than just a "how's it hanging?" kind of a question.
In fact she was deeply caring for me in asking me how I am.

The answer that came immediately to my mind was:

"It's complicated."

I was really blessed by her question,  and it was certainly timely. This particular time of the year brings about thoughts of a life, created from love that would have been, could have been, but never was meant to be--
a one year old.  

Following the many days of grieving and growing, hurting and healing that I lived the last year I am now one year distanced from that time period of profound sadness. At the time I knew not how to move forward, but forward movement was what I chose.    I wanted so badly to hurry past and through the pain of losing our baby.  I desperately wanted to see what God had planned for us,  I was in a rush to see His revelation.   

So here, one year later I daily hold (probably too tightly at times)  a bouncing 6 month old.  Naomi is so full of life at this age.  Smiley and communicative.   Beautiful and adored.    It would be dishonest to say that her birth hasn't helped the healing process. 

It has.

In many ways. 

I feel it every time I watch Naomi reach another milestone.

But,  (isn't there always a but?) as I take stock of the last year and a half,  I still feel a kind of void.  There's still a yearning.   I imagine what my life would be with a one year old daughter right now, and if her eyes would have been green like mine.   I'm sure they would have been green.  I imagine her taking her first steps and running around the back of church with the big kids.   I daydream about reaching Heaven's door and seeing her, holding her as if she had never been lost.   These are the feelings I keep, and that is OK.   For me, (and I know others will differ)  losing a baby isn't something that I can take a been there, done that type of attitude about.    Yes, it is a part of my past,  but also my present and future.  

Grief isn't a task I want to check off my to-do list.   It is part of me,  it is part of almost anyone who has lost a dear loved one.

I realized recently that I tried to run so fast from that painful time,  and now-- strange as it may seem--  I kind of long for it.   I don't wish for pain,  for that seems silly.   What I mean is,  I miss the amazing closeness with family,  community,  and God that I experienced during those days. 

I'm not sure if that answers my friend's question,  but I sure am glad she asked.  Anything that gives me the opportunity to think on April,  is blessing to me.   That is how I feel connected to a baby I grew and held but never had the chance to raise.   My grief isn't the same as it once was,  and that is good.  My grieving takes new forms and different roads,  and that is good too.  

Good. Grief.

this is the stuff

I like things the way I like them.

Don't we all?

When you (or me in this case) are faced with something that's downright unlikable,  what is the virtuous response?

I have spent the better part of two weeks getting way ahead of myself and working myself into a tizzy.   Yes,  I just said tizzy.    Making something way too big in my life and letting it push most everything good out of the way.    The specifics of what that was I won't go into because that's not really important, and in the big picture of life---  it wasn't a huge problem.

That is precisely what irks me the most.   When did I dive into shallow waters again?   When or why did I start letting an irritation turn into an infected wound?

When our unborn baby died last year my eyes were opened to the significance (or the insignificance) of stresses in life.    What really matters, and frankly,  what does not.     I welcomed that new perspective,  considered it one of the results of enduring that painful loss.    In the recent past I've lost that perspective.   So now,  kicking myself (which incidentally I seem to be doing a lot lately) I need  to grab it back.

What is important is what I am trying to learn from it.  I have to record this lesson learned,  or I am likely to forget it the next time things don't go my way. 

 My old method of coping:

Get upset.

Talk about it until I am blue in the face and people want to punch me.

Figure out how to manipulate change the situation

Perhaps cry,  but that might be too soft and sensitive this early in the problem

Generally assume a bad attitude.

Resist acceptance.

New plan.   When stuff drives me crazy I have the power of choice. 

Looking anew at the debacle (and future difficulties)  I find myself in, 
I will choose to:

Stay calm.

Pray about it,  asking God for clarity and direction.

Do not try to change manipulate the situation

Cry,   if needed.   A little crying is good for the heart.

Have patience.

Resolve to accept.

This is the stuff that drives me crazy
This is the stuff that's getting to me lately
In the middle of my little mess
I forget how big I'm blessed
This is the stuff that gets under my skin
But I gotta trust You know exactly what You're doing
It might not be what I would choose
But this is the stuff You use                                ---Fransecsa Battistelli

captured the moment

I received many precious keepsake gifts following the death of our unborn baby last spring.   One of those gifts was a charm from our friend Jamie.   I am sentimental and perhaps at times search for poignant moments, so you can imagine how my heart felt when I glanced down at Naomi while she was nursing and I noticed this:

Her tiny, chubby hand was gripping the necklace I was wearing round my neck.  I had to quickly grab my phone and angle it just right to snap this pic. 

Down on my knees thankful for these moments.

--if you'd like to buy this charm, find it here--

April's Garden 2011

Last year we created a garden in the front of our home.
A memorial garden.

it was a productive activity,  and i really, really needed to do something with my time and anxious thoughts.

At the time (May) Dan suggested that we plant a good amount of spring bloomers because after all,  our baby passed away in April just as spring was budding and blooming.   The garden as it bloomed would remind us of April our 5th baby,  of God's faithfulness in our lives and ultimately bring us joy.

But, by the time we prepared the yard and put the finishing touches on the garden,  Spring had long passed.   We had to wait until Spring 2011 to see new growth and beautiful blooms.   It rather well represents the patience and waiting I had to learn this last year. 

Looking back I can still feel how impatient I was.   I wanted time to pass as quick as possible.  I wanted to rush the outcome.  In my mind one year after April's passing would be significant.  Significantly healing,  I had hoped.   God did reveal His plan this last year,  in powerful ways.
I like that the garden is so much more than just a collection of soil and vegetation.  It is a symbol.  Not just this Spring,  but every Spring season in the future. 

Today,  it is Spring 2011, one year later.   I snapped a few photos to share the progress and the beauty of the garden.

9 years. 3 years. 1 year.

April 15.

Nine years ago today, God gave unto Dan and I,  a precious son.   

Andrew. 

He came into this world with a bang, as he nearly entered the world in the back of our mini-van!  At nine years old he delights us with his energy,  and his unyielding devotion to his big brother.   He is easily brought to tears and is sensitive.   This sensitivity is an asset because it helps him to see when others are hurting or rejoicing.   He is the self proclaimed "best goalie on his soccer team" and still likes to sleep with his "dee-tee".  The perfect blend of innocence and confidence.   Drew, Dewey, Double D-- by whatever name we call you-- You are a gift!

With a grateful heart,  I celebrate you this day.

 _____________________________________________________________

3 years ago today,   God gave unto Dan and I,  a precious daughter.   

Juliet

She came into this world smoothly and beautifully.  I had to fight tooth and nail to talk Dan into having a 4th child.   He was done after three.  It didn't take long at all for that little gal to securely wrap Daddy around her finger.   At 3 years of age she is scrappy and animated.  All she needs is a few toys and her favorite TV show Max and Ruby for background noise and she will play the day away.   Her role has recently changed from the baby to big sis  so naturally we are still working out the kinks with that.   Buns,  Bunser, Babe-- by whatever name we call you-- You are a gift!!

With a joyful heart,  I celebrate you today.

_______________________________________________________________

1 year ago today,  God gave unto Dan and I,  our third daughter.  

April.  

She came into this world silent and still.   She was already with the One who allowed her conception and knew with Him she would remain.   At 1 year remembered,  we do not know her.  I can't share about her personality or what color were her eyes.   She didn't have the chance to earn her own nickname.   Even so,  she had weight in this world.   Physically speaking she was 3.7 oz.   But my pregnancy,  the short labor and the delivery of her changed our lives.   Our kids will carry her in their hearts always.  I have struggled and learned so much this last year.  I will continue to find meaning ,  not necessarily a neat and tidy explanation of why we could not keep her,  but God's hand in all the events that surrounded her conception and death. 
April, the baby we lost,  our daughter,  our 5th child--by whatever name we call you-- You are a gift!!

With a heavy heart I remember you this day.

11 months ago...

"There is no despair so absolute  

(indescribable pain, indescribable peace)

as that which comes with the first moments of our first great sorrow,

(naming our baby girl)

  when we have not yet known what it is to have suffered and be healed,  (one day I will testify!)
 

to have despaired and have recovered hope."

(it's a Gal !!)

--George Eliot

I  recently came across this quote.  I read it and thought to myself-- SO true!   I immediately thought how it so poetically described our last 11 months.
I broke down each phrase of the quote followed by parenthesized links to previous blog posts. 
If you are new to my story,  click the above links for a small summary.

First came despair.   

Losing April was our first great sorrow.   Perhaps the pain of losing her was second to the immense fear I held that I didn't know how to live life after loss.  What if I couldn't move past it?  What if I dissolved into a disaster of a woman filled with bitterness,  emptiness, and anger.   What if I turned my face from God or believed he turned his face from me?

I did not know what it was to have suffered and be healed.

As the weeks went on I learned and experienced much.  The ways, shapes and forms that healing comes.  But also the ways,  shapes and forms grief over our loss that still remains to this day.  

In what surprised me as a relatively short amount of time,

God gave us a gift to recover our hope.

I did a bit of research,  not a lot but some, about the person who wrote these words.

She wasn't a George after all,  that was her pen name.  Her given name was Mary Ann Evans and she denounced Christianity.   How she must be rolling in her grave knowing that the beautiful words she penned so long ago speak to me only of Jesus. 

I don't say that to be condescending,  I just love, love, love it when I come across something so full of truth!!!

11 months have passed and our story  still beginning.
What I'm realizing now is-- that it always can be...beginning.

the crib in the corner and her memory on the wall

Well, there it is.

The crib in the corner.   Again.

It was only a short 2 years ago that we moved it out of our bedroom much to Dan's dismay.   Juliet was one year old and needed to get her buns in Joy's room and take up residence.  
The crib itself had a brief hiatus from use for about 2 months after we moved the girls to bunk beds.   Back in January, my heart was not ready for the crib to stand at the ready for a baby that was not close enough to coming.   By February, we repainted our bedroom and I had to ride the wave of Dan's motivation for makeover.   So the crib is up,  the pinky flower car seat is free of mouse turds from our basement and I've even busted out the old breastfeeding paraphernalia.

It feels good,  I feel ready as I'll ever be ... for 5 kids.


A special addition to our room,  11 months the making,  is the shadow box.
It contains the few pieces of memorabilia that we have from the pregnancy and loss of our baby, April.   I delivered her, nearing what would have been my 17th week of pregnancy,  last April 15.  

sorry about the photo quality, I am the WORST photog. !!

I don't know why it has taken 11 months to create something I wanted to do immediately.   Partly because I am a procrastinator,  partly because I think I just needed to keep them in the box,  in the drawer,  until I was ready.    Who knows?    But I am happy with the result.   Someday I will tell this little one about another, even smaller one that came before her.    A story that tells of God's hand,  His will,  His comfort,  His sovereignty and how very much I have yet to learn.

"to the joy that's coming"

If there was ever a song that I worked hard on me last summer it was Before The Morning by Josh Wilson.  

Last week Joy and I were cruisin' around town in the mini-van and she began to talk about April.    Joy has kept April a part of our daily lives through conversations, questions and drawings.   So many times I have been struck by what a healing gift that has been.  Numerous times she has asked me just how small her head was, and if she can look at the hospital momentos.   She lovingly opens the box and carefully examines each article.   Joy is not a procrastinator and she keeps wondering why I have yet to compile the momentos and display them in the shadow box that I bought last fall.   She has convicted me to work on it, amongst other things that I really want do to honor April's memory before I am all to consumed with my post-pregnancy life.

So, back to the song.   There is a phrase in the song that sings like this:

Would dare you, would you dare, to believe,
that you still have a reason to sing,
'cause the pain you've been feeling,
can't compare to the joy that's coming

If you know Joy and I (and my mom for that matter)  we are always humming or singing a tune that it is our heads.  On that particular day in the van I was singing the above lyrics.   Joy said to me,

"Mom,  I know what that means... "to the joy that's coming"
I replied, "What do you think?"
She said "When the new baby comes!"

And for the short term,  she is right.  The baby is absolutely a joy that's coming!   But there in that moment I wanted to tell her all the more reasons that joy is coming--One Glorious Day!   I tried, and as my kids often do,  she bolted to the next topic as quick as her mind would go.   One of the legacies, if you will,  that April's short life leaves in our family is that she opened our children's minds door to Heaven.   For that I thank my Heavenly Father.

There is so much that her 7 year old self just gets, you know?  I am amazed at how God works in her heart and how she so easily expresses herself.   Sometimes too easily when it comes to her opinions,  wants or displeasure.   She is my firstborn girl and it blesses me to know that she will carry April with her throughout her life.   What God has given me is a special someone that will keep all of the physical and mental memories for me someday when I have gone on.    She is truly a Joy !!

If you care to check it.... Here is  a short story about the inspiration for this song.  Great Story!

And finally,  a few pix of Joy and I on today.. our shared BIRTHDAY!!!

the final countdown.

Sometime around 30 weeks I began to count down the weeks,  while before that point I was counting up.    A wonderful milestone and I am thankful!    With less than 7 weeks to go before my due date I am trying to get my head around this being my last pregnancy.   I have many fun comparisons going on my my head about the first time I walked this road 11 years ago.   I hope to dig out a few  thoughts and photos from the olden days pretty soon and blog them,  but for today, though writing I hope to kick some fear to the curb.

I have said countless times that my previous pregnancy and this one have kind of melted together to one long hormonal circus.     Hope and loss,  sadness and searching,  anticipation, fear, and joy all weaving their own mark into my time line the last 10 months.

The closer I get to the 40 week mark increased anxious thoughts and memories of April's induced delivery reach the surface of my heart.    The way the last few weeks have lived out resemble the way I spent the first trimester of this pregnancy--living in fear.

Fearful of what exactly?   Frankly,  another pregnancy loss and delivery of a baby already gone.   The thought of living through that again is breath stealing  and joy taking.   I DO NOT want to be filled with this fear,  but here I am again letting it seep back in.    I say  "I"  am letting it seep in because it certainly is not of God.

He has restored me.
He has displayed His power in creating this life that I carry. 
He has promised to be near me every hour.

I don't want the loss of April to be for nothing.  Of the many things I have learned and will continue to learn following that time is that God is God!    His promises are true, and He carries us.   

It was not a one time gig.   

He will do this over and over again in my life as certainly more and greater storms will arise.  

Matthew 8:26 (Contemporary English Version) 

²⁶But Jesus replied, "Why are you so afraid? 

You surely don't have much faith." 

Then he got up and ordered the wind and the waves to calm down. And everything was calm.

So,  as a kind of declaration of independence from fear I say,  that come what may,

God will restore me.
God will display his power whatever the circumstance!
God will be near me every hour.

Moving forward in faith.   49 some days to go!

Not what I once was.

Tonight,  over the phone I told Dan I just want to get back to the old me.

Perhaps that doesn't make much sense out of context. 

Let me explain,  and in doing so I hope to figure out if the old me is really the former me and not likely to be me again.    You follow?   Probably not. 

Tonight I stare at the laundry undone,  the presents waiting to be wrapped.   I smell the clogged garbage disposal ,  the wet boots and gloves.    I chow down on the Christmas goodies that I just can't resist.   I hear our 2 year old crying out for her pacifier and I sigh.      All of these things could have described a typical December night a year ago,   but the difference this year is -- me.  You see,  I'm not dealing with the day to day quite as well. 

It's been nearly one year since I became pregnant with our 5th child,  the baby we lost and Heaven gained.   And ever since I learned of that pregnancy,   lost that pregnancy,  grieved that pregnancy,  and discovered this new pregnancy I have not been the me I once,  or you,  once knew. 

Maybe I can blame the  pregnancy hormones which have been raging in me for 41 of the last 53 weeks,  with 14 yet to go.   Or maybe it's the tiring work of sorting through grief.   I was/am  new to it,  and had to find my own way through it.   Grief can be a sneaky jerk,  popping up at times when you just don't want to go there. 

Maybe it's the constant balancing act of hope and fear.     Although God has given me so much joy and hope over this new pregnancy,   it only takes a bad dream recalling the day I delivered April to send me running for the tissue box and rendering me  useless when it comes to things like cleaning toilets or dusting.

Maybe it is those things.    Some days I like to blame the economy.   That sounds fair,  doesn't it?   The nation's economic crisis has trickled down to the industry in which my husband is employed. .   He has to go out of state to find work and that has been a HUGE adjustment for the kids and I.    Yes!  that is why I am no longer the productive,  stable,  self controlled,  person I once was--  being a on again,  off again single parent to 4 kids and growing another is doing me in!  

Why can't I be the me I used to be?

I get it,  really I do--this post sounds like a list of woes!

But I had to get them out to see that although they are certainly the raw ingredients in the lump of dough that I think I've become--
This  past year...  God changed the recipe.  

I may want to function at a certain level  because I think that is my best.
But... perhaps God is forming (and let's just say-- baking, for the sake of the metaphor)  

A new me. 

I have to trust,  that in His time the new me will in fact be a sweet,  not bitter creation. 

Philippians 1:6  NIV 

being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

a new treasure on the tree.

honesty, honestly.

I was convinced that this baby would be a boy.    

Perhaps some thought I've desired a girl because April was a girl.  Since there remains a huge void for the daughter we hoped to hold and raise,  it seems natural that I would want this child to be a girl to fulfill that hope.

In some ways that is true,  in other ways it is not.    That empty space will always be there--for the baby we hoped to meet in September 2010,   for April.    Having another daughter does not fill that space,  just as giving birth to Juliet did not replace Joy.  They are two distinct lives.

So at some point in this pregnancy when I began to let go of some of the fear of another loss,  I convinced myself that we'd be meeting a boy come March 2011.

Why did I do that?   I've come to a few conclusions.

I was afraid that having another girl would negate the loss we suffered,  perhaps? in my heart, but maybe for others.   I wanted to keep April's status as our 5th child,  our third and last girl, because frankly I still long for her.    In my mind,  having a boy would, in large ways accomplish keeping April's status firm.

There were other things that I idealized about having this baby be a son.   The big kids had hoped for another brother,   Chase will be 11 years old at the time of the birth I could just picture he and a little bro years into the future.  

By now most of you are probably thinking--  "what a headcase!" or "it is what it is"  or "what an ingrate"   Believe me,  I have thought those things about myself at one point or another.

I am happy to say that most of the above feelings are past tense.     Each step along this journey I have forced myself to take an honest look at what is going on in my head and in my heart.   I am only human and many rational feelings and irrational thoughts weave their ways into my days and weeks.  Sorting them out, and even blogging about them has been immensely helpful.  An absolute constant that does not falter is our gratitude.     This little gal inside is desired and wanted just as much as April was.   I am down on my knees thankful for her life within.  God's promises of hope and restoration are budding!

Here are a few pix from the evening of our ultrasound.  We went out for pizza and let the kids open the envelope with the answer to our new baby's gender.

may I have the envelope, please?

reading the result

laughing at the revelation

tell me how you really feel?

Juliet , just happy to be the baby for awhile longer. :-)