Thursday, December 3, 2015

Infertility Post 1 - Because I just can't think of a good title for a bad situation

There are five Christmas stockings hanging on our stocking holder.  Five. I had to wipe tears today when I looked at them.  A woman who was told that conception was probably not possible, has three stockings to fill for excited little children to open on Christmas day.  Sometimes, I still can't believe it.  Sometimes I wonder, "Why me?"  Why have I been allowed to see my mommy dreams come true?  Why not someone else?

I have close people in my life who are struggling to get pregnant.  Not just one person.  Multiple people.  Their  hearts ache for what they do not have and so does mine.  I wish I could change their circumstances.  I know it's not fair.  I know that some of those people have to avoid looking at my pictures and FB status updates because it only causes pain.  They've never told me this, but I know.  I know that if another pregnancy test comes back negative they will not know if they should throw it, cry, or stare at it long enough hoping that instead of seeing nothing in the positive line, a very faint line might just appear.  They've never told me this, but I know.  I know that some of these sweet ones hold their breaths when they are sitting in church pews just hoping that this Sunday is not baby dedication Sunday.  They've never told me this, but I know.  I know that if the tears they cried over being childless could be turned into something good, not one child in this world would want for anything.  They've never told me this, but I know.

A sweet friend whom I have not spoken with in great length for years (thanks only to life leading us down different paths) contacted me this week to ask me for advice on how to help someone who is struggling with infertility.  I have mulled over what to say.  I have nothing.   Nothing I say will help.  Nothing I suggest can truly make this person feel better. I know, because I have been there.  So, instead, I will pray for this sweet lady who longs to be a mama.  I will pray fervently and I will pray daily.

For those of you who are wishing and hoping and praying that this will be your last Christmas without a child of your own (those I know for sure are and those who have never even mentioned it to me)...I pray for you daily and I leave you with this (written months before conceiving Addi) in hopes that you will understand that while I may be silent in terms of offering you advice about your situation and while words of "encouragement" don't fall loosely from my tongue, I do care and, on some level, I understand.

INFERTILE...I don't know if there is another word in all of the english language that is so ugly. I am infertile (at least for now). What does that mean? For now it means putting my biggest, longest dream on hold. It means cringing when people ask when we're going to have a child. It means wanting to scream when people are insensitive to what's going on (though most don't even know we're struggling). It means pretending the tears I cry at a baby dedication are tears of joy for the parents. It means feeling guilty because there are times I am envious of those who have children. It means wanting to smack some people across the face when they complain about having a bad day with their children. It means wondering why me, why out of all of my friends, I seem to be the one to have to carry this burden. It means feeling inadequate and unfeminine knowing that my body can't be part of creating a miracle. It means getting angry with God once in a while and then quickly crying out to Him in despair. It means hurting worse than I have ever hurt before. It means being scared that when people we love find out about this that they will judge me. It means wondering if there are times my husband wishes that he had married someone else...someone who could give him a son or a daughter to hold in his arms. It means questioning every thing I buy because each purchase is less money to put in savings for adoption. It means hiding behind a smile more often than I'm not these days. It means times of feeling so lonely I want to run to the closest insane asylum. It means wanting to wake up from a very bad dream and realizing daily that this nightmare is very much a real part of my life.



On the other hand...


It means hope. Hope that God will bless me like he did Hannah and Sarah in the Bible. Hope that because Jared and I have had to face this, we will be stronger and more sensitive to the needs of those around us. It means assurance. Assurance that God will grant me my heart's desires if I delight to do His will. It means joy. Joy in knowing that I have a Heavenly Father who puts my tears in a bottle and holds me close to His heart. It means healing. Healing from this pain and allowing God to mend my broken heart. It means awe. Awe that God is allowing me to deal with this because He knows I am strong enough to handle it. It means love. Love that grows daily for God, for my husband and for the child I will one day hold in my arms.

Friday, November 20, 2015

The Refugee Mama

To the mom forced to flee her country to protect her family:

I thought about you this morning when I snuck into my children's rooms to make sure they were sleeping contentedly.  I thought about you as I turned up the heat in our chilly house.  I am thinking of you now as my 4 year old is snuggled closely to his mama.  Listening to his rythmic breathing while he sleeps assures me that all is well and that he is at peace.

I know that is all you are longing for...peace.  Sweet mama, you weigh heavily on my heart.  You may be scared, but you are brave.  You left behind a life with the hope that you could give your child his.  I know it must be painful to look into your children's confused eyes and to try to display confidence in your own.  I am sure not having an answer when your weary child asks when she can return home must cut you to the core.  I cannot begin to imagine your heartache.

Know this... I pray for you.

 Our nation is divided about if we should let you into our country.  Honestly, I don't really pay enough attention to what is going on in this world to even state my opinion.  I was probably one of the last to learn of your plight.  I have that luxury.  I can ignore the news and assume that all is going well because all really is going well in my small world.

This morning, I feel guilty for ignoring your suffering.  You deserve to weigh heavily on my mind.  You should not be ignored by someone, especially another mother, because she doesn't want to stress about your struggle.  I should not be so consumed with scheduling a play date, packing a child's lunch, trying to sleep train a baby, or picking up a massive amount of toys that I don't stop and think of you..and attempt to somehow carry part of your burden.  I am sorry for ignoring you.

This world has some pretty crazy definitions of heroism.  You are a true hero.  You probably feel so far removed from that description, but, precious mama, you are amazing.

So, this morning, because of you, I am going to practice a bit more patience with my own children.  I will show my daughter grace when I have to tell her for the fifteenth time to get dressed.  I will display kindness when my four year old refuses to eat his breakfast.  I will take an extra moment to just enjoy my wiggly baby as I attempt to change his diaper while he tries to roll away.  I will revel in the "chaos" more than in the silence and all the while, I will think of you and pray that, in just a matter of time, my silly little "struggles" will be your only daily issues as well.

Much love and hope for brighter days.

Saturday, November 7, 2015

You would be one...

Sometimes on the days when the sky is at its bluest and I can feel the warmth of the sun on my face, I look up and think of you, sweet one.  I wonder what you are doing in Heaven. I know you're safe and happy and probably toddling around the streets of gold.  This truth helps with the pain.  We still miss you. 

As I watch the joyful baby who would have never been if you were allowed to exist here on earth, I realize that God's plan is perfect.  For this child is a blessing and a joy.  And, so are you.  We don't know why God allowed him to be here and you not to be, but we are grateful.  Grateful that we got to know you. Thankful that God loaned you to us for 12 weeks.  It was in your passing that God taught us much.  It is because of you that we empathize and sympathize with those who have walked a similar path.  You are the reason that I am bold in sharing our loss with others.   It's because of you that I look forward to heaven even more than I did before.  One day I will meet you.

Somewhere around late October to now, we would have been throwing you a birthday party.  You would be one.  There will be no balloons or birthday cake right now, but that's OK.  For one thing I have learned is that there is no reason to wonder what you would be doing if God allowed you to join our earthly home.  I don't wonder because it just was not meant to be.  I'm OK with that. 

Today, the sky is gray and the rain is falling.   I look up and think of you and I thank Him.  Thank Him for allowing the heavy rain that came into our lives when we found out that you were already in the arms of Jesus.  The rain was necessary.  It watered us, helped us grow, and gave us a greater appreciation for the sun.

So, little one, know this...you did exactly what you were meant to do here on this earth.  

With all my love,
Mommy


Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Lesson from a Kindergarten Field Trip

The precious kindergarten girl was holding her bee stung finger as big tears rolled down her cheeks.  The adults looked anxiously at each other trying to figure out what was the next step to get her to stop crying.  Tears aren't supposed to happen on field trips and definitely not on your first ever field trip.  Still, there she sat on a hayride...crying.

Suddenly, a little voice beside me said, "I just prayed for you."  When her comment went unnoticed she boldly said once again, "I just prayed for you."  My sweet girl...she knows what works and she has such confidence.  She knows..."ask and you shall receive."

Something beautiful transpired after Addi made that statement.  Right there, on a public school field trip...

Girl A - "I will pray for you tonight."
Girl A's mom - "You know you don't have to wait to pray for her, right?"
Girl A places her hand on the crying child's leg and closes her eyes
Boy A chimes in - "Jesus, please help her to feel better.  Amen."
Three other kids say "Amen."
Crying Girl stops crying and smiles.
Boy A - I knew that prayer would work!

Then, just as quickly as the moment started it ended and a silly conversation over what the name of the hayride driver was began. The poor driver had to hear, "Drive faster, Mr. Joe!" about 152 times before the ride was over.  And, no, that was not his real name.

The story is sweet.  A fun memory to hang on to.  Proof that prayer will never truly be out of school.

I gleaned more from that moment, though.

Lately, I have overcomplicated faith.  Sometimes, I look at the mistakes made during the day and feel unworthy to even pray.  I wonder if my prayers will even be heard.  I pray half-heartedly as I expect to have to repeat the same prayer day after day before an answer comes.

Those children on the hayride...they just prayed.  They knew it would make things better.  The rest of the trip...the little girl held onto that finger.  It still bothered her.  However, her tears went away just in knowing that God knew all about it.  Isn't that what prayer is truly about?  I can go confidently into His throne room knowing that I will be heard.  My answer may not come immediately, but His peace can.

So, tonight, I choose to rest in this and ask that you do the same...

You will keep him in perfect peace, Whose mind is stayed on You, Because he trusts in You. - Isaiah 26:3



Thursday, August 20, 2015

A Letter for the Teacher

Dear Teacher,

Tonight, my little girl gets to meet you.  She is excited and maybe a little nervous.  I am excited and definitely a lot nervous.  I don't intend on sharing this letter with you...it's more of a way for this worried mama to express my jumbled thoughts.

I know I don't need to tell you that you are going to be teaching one of my most precious "possessions.". I know you will love her.  I am well aware you didn't get into teaching for the money or your summers "off.".

Here's what I do want to say:

Thank you!  I know there will be days that you will come into my girl's classroom with then weight of the world on your shoulders.  Other days, you will just be plain tired.  Yet, I know you will greet each student with a smile (even the one that you really wish was absent that day.)

If you ever find yourself wishing my child is the one who is absent, please tell me.  I know she asks A LOT of questions.  She is inquisitive to a fault.  I get it.  I also know she can be a bit stubborn and thinks she is a boss.  Her dad and I are working with her on the stubbornness and bossiness, but if we need to do more, please let us know.  We are in this together.

Though she has her faults, she is truly amazing.  I may be a bit biased, but not about her awesomeness.  She is kind and compassionate.  She is a born leader.  She LOVES to help.  She believes in Jesus and will talk about Him.  She adores her infant brother.  Her four-year-old brother is her best friend and she has been with him almost 24/7 for the last three years.  She is daddy's little girl and mommy's sidekick.  She is social.  She already cares about you.  She prays for you.  You will adore her.

Even so, we know that at times, we will have to watch her fail.  We will encourage her to try again.  We know you will do the same.  We know that when she fails, her success will be even sweeter.  She is a determined little girl...she will turn her failures into triumphs. We will all be there to cheer her on.

When she cries, it is absolutely OK to hug her.  When she is dramatic, it's OK to turn your head and roll your eyes.  If she forgets to be a friend, it's OK to remind her to be one.  If she is nervous, it's OK to pat her hand and even whisper a quick prayer to her or to yourself.  If she doesn't remember her manners, it's OK to tell her to use them.  If she tells you that she loves you, it's OK to say it back.

She will say that to you.  As I typed that sentence, tears rolled down my cheeks. It is so difficult to let her go:  to let her spread her wings and open the door to new opportunities and to people that I do not know.  I am comforted to know that you will be there with her.  You are not her teacher by happenstance.  I have prayed for you for years and God placed you into her life because He knows you will nurture her and love her.

So, thank you for loving her well.  For the memories you will create with her.   For the lessons you have planned for her. For the look of assurance that you will give this nervous mommy when I drop my girl off and place her in your care for 6 and a half hours a day.  She is going to do great, because you are great.

Sincerely,
Princess Addi's Mommy (Yes, she thinks she is a real princess...she is)

Saturday, August 8, 2015

His Presence

My smart, artsy Addi is adorned in a hot pink hat with matching flip flops and a dress with a lavendar tutu attached.  The outfit suits her personality.  My sweet and silly Brogan has messy hair with a cowlick that will not do anything but reach up straight to the heavens.  He is sitting on the floor holding a toy on his lap. He has a creative mind and is pretending his baby brother's bug toy is an ice cream machine.  Brogan is the Ice Cream Man and Addi is ordering strawberry ice cream from him.  Strawberry...because, of course, it is pink.

I am feeling somewhat proud of myself for remembering to put dinner in the slow cooker and am nursing my precious Gideon as I watch my littles laugh and play.  One of them just said "underpants." Based on the fits of giggles, that word is the funniest ever.  I am soaking in this moment.  These are my children...this is my life.  And, in this ordinary, not very exciting moment, He whispers to me...

"I am with you always."

I breathe in and take a little longer to exhale.

God is with me always.

Me...the one who puts Him to the back burner more often than I care to admit.  The one who nags and fusses at my husband over the silliest stuff.  The one who often goes to bed feeling guilty because I could have been more patient with my children.  The one who has been blessed with three beautiful kids here on earth but am currently struggling with postpartum depression...the struggle is real and tough...and frustrating.  Still...

My Father, my Creator, the One who bottles my tears, is with ME...ALWAYS.

Always... Even in the mundane, ordinary moments when I wonder if I should tell my kids not to laugh about underwear because it's not proper.

For His presence...I am so grateful.

I start to sing the following and Addi and Brogan come sit on my lap.  As I hold all three of my babies, I let this truth ring out...

Who is like You Lord in all the earth?
Matchless love and beauty, endless worth
Nothing in this world can satisfy
'Cause Jesus You're the cup that won't run dry

Your presence is heaven to me
Your presence is heaven to me

Treasure of my heart and of my soul
In my weakness you are merciful
Redeemer of my past and present wrongs
Holder of my future days to come

Your presence is heaven to me
Your presence is heaven to me

All my days on earth I will await
The moment that I see You face to face
Nothing in this world can satisfy
'Cause Jesus You're the cup that won't run dry

Your presence is heaven to me
Your presence is heaven to me

Oh Jesus, Oh Jesus
Your presence is heaven to me
Oh Jesus, Oh Jesus
Your presence is heaven to me

*Song by Israel and New Breed