Well That Took a Turn

  It’s been a hot minute since I posted. Life has changed in every single way it possibly could. I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about some of those changes, but overall I'd say they've been okay.

I wanted to post because I am embarking on a new journey and I want to keep track of it. I've decided I'm going to become a single mom by choice. I don't know how, yet. That's the journey part.

Even though Jon and I have been separated for 5 years, and divorced for 1, I was still holding out hope that we could get back together and make it work. I had decided I would be okay without having kids and I'm in a much healthier place mentally and emotionally, so I thought we could make it work. But he has decided that that's not something he's interested in, and so now I'm trying to figure out Plan B. 

I want a partner. I don't know necessarily if I want a *spouse*. I'm not ruling it out, but I'm not banking on it, either. But a partner, though. That would be nice. I want to share my life with someone more than just a cat--as wonderful as she is. (Thanks for waking me up at 3:30 every morning and not letting me go back to sleep.) But like. It'd be nice to have someone to talk to and spend time with and enjoy. But that just hasn't happened, and I don't know when it will happen or how it will happen. I don't know how to meet people--my social circle is so small. Maybe volunteering somewhere will help broaden that, but there's no guarantee and I don't know what else to do. 

Enter Alternative. What if... I had a kid. Since I was a teen I wanted to be a mom, and although the last year or so I wasn't sure if I still did, the desire is cropping back up. There are a lot of hinderances, not the least of which is the sperm part. It's expensive to get pregnant; it's even more expensive to have a kid. I have a lot of trauma from James. I'd be giving up my "freedom." I'd have to wake up early and often and be sleep deprived and overwhelmed. But despite all that, whenever I think about it, I get excited. Any time I talk to someone about it, I can't help but smile. 

I have a lot of blog posts I want to write. My thought process and overcoming the reasons not to; possibilities for insemination; trauma triggers that I anticipate will be difficult; and each step of my journey as I move through it. I'd like to document the process and eventually turn this into another baby bumpdate blog. 

So, buckle up. The road's about to get bumpy (hopefully that will eventually become a double entendre.)

I'm Just Going To Leave This Here, Because Sometimes I Need a Reminder

When I Fell In Love

I wrote this Sunday morning, August 23 2015 as I was spending a weekend away with Jon. We were listening through the playlist that we played at James' funeral. Christina Perri's A Thousand Years started playing, and this post started to take shape. It took me a while to finish it, but the few people I've shared it with found it pretty powerful, so I thought I'd post it. I hope this helps everyone to get a small glimpse of what we've gone through. 



It's a curious thing to lose a child through full-term stillbirth. It's not until after the baby is dead that you realize that you have loved this baby since you were able to love at all. Your life has been leading up to this moment. You wanted that child since you could plan for your future. That baby was one of the first things on your list. And since that moment, not the moment of conception, or of getting a positive pregnancy test, but since you realized you wanted a baby, THAT'S when you fell in love. Years pass, and you love this baby that you'll have someday. You get married. You start trying for a baby. You seek medical intervention, and suddenly, you get your baby. And then that baby is inexplicably and irrevocably gone. And while your mind understands, your heart sure as hell doesn't. And at the funeral, you want to open his tiny coffin to see him one last time, or just grab the whole thing altogether and run, but you don't. Because even those acts of desperation, of lunacy, can't bring him back. But oh, how your body aches for him. Literally and figuratively. Arms ache to hold, lips to kiss, eyes to see, and heart to keep. But also your body is torn after the hardest labor of all: of giving birth to one you know is already gone. You dread having your milk come in, because it's another reminder of the baby that is gone. And then you're scared the milk will dry up, because it's one of the last reminders of the baby that is gone.

Weeks pass. All too soon it's a new calendar month, and you can't imagine how you're going to make it a whole month without him. And then Thanksgiving and Christmas come and go, and what used to be happy times are suddenly too much to bear. And then it's New Years, and you realize your baby will never live in this year, and unreasonably you're sad for this year, that it will never know your baby. Soon you've been without your baby for "twenty f****** weeks." And then the dreaded day when he has been dead longer than he was alive. Your birthday, new babies being born without major complications, Sundays, the 24th of each month, your original "due date:" all are foreboding and oppressive, yet are only the foothills to the mountain you must climb at the one year mark. A year to the day since you last felt your baby move. A year to the day your baby died. The day he should have turned one. But it's not just those days; they're all two-fold. Firstly because on that specific day something bad happened, but also because of what happened on that specific date.

This last year, nothing has been simple. Do I have the energy to clean the house; to make dinner; to brush my teeth? Is it worth getting dressed?   How do I stop getting mad at everything? It's an entirely new skill set, learning to cope through loss. How to be vulnerable to those whom you love and trust, when it hurts them as it helps all. How to be a parent on a technicality. No one wants that. How to be gracious and kind to those whose problems seem so petty now. Nothing is easy and it just gets harder.

This year I have seen the face of God. How can I not, since I have been camped at the foot of the cross? I have seen his love, and grace, and mercy, here in the "Valley of the Shadow of Death." By his help I am climbing this insurmountable summit. One day at a time, one step at a time, one breath at a time, sometimes even one moment at a time.

And some day, I will cross to the other side with my arms stretched out, with a smile on my face, and I will see and hold my son for only the second time, and he will see and hold me for the first time, and we will gaze long and lovingly into each others' eyes. Oh, how I long for that day. 

I am sorry for the couple of swear words. I really feel as though they convey my feelings and emotions in a way I couldn't otherwise capture. The reason "twenty f****** weeks" is in quotations is because I wrote a [very angry] diary entry at that point, and there was quite a bit of harsh language, because I could not think of any other way to show my feelings. As a rule, I do not swear, but on occasion I find there is nothing else to say. So I do apologize. But twenty weeks was a hard place for me to be.

I also want to add that the one year anniversary was not nearly as hard as I anticipated, and I believe a lot of that is due to my family and their love and support. Last week we went to the cemetery and said good-bye again; we also wrote messages on balloons and released them into the sky. This was more symbolic and healing than I thought it would be. But I believe the sentiment I felt and expressed about the one-year mark can be applied to any year; any time. Whether it be two years, five years, ten years, or seventeen years, it is still a mountain to climb, and the longer I climb it, the steeper it will get.

How I Can Be a Christian and Still Support Gay Marriage + A Caveat

I am going to try to write this succinctly, but still be clear. So let's see how it goes.

I am going to make a series of statements, and then I will do my best to explain them.

I am glad for the legalization of gay marriage. I think it is wrong to deny them that right. I disagree with it being on a federal level. I do not agree with a gay lifestyle, but I want them to be treated fairly. I believe that "marriage" as defined by God can be, and is, different than "marriage" as defined by the state.

First. I am glad for the legalization of marriage; and, I think it is wrong to deny them that right. Denying a human being of a right to something based on their sexual orientation is the same as denying someone a right based on their skin color. Or religion. Or what have you. To say that, because they aren't married, a "spouse" can't see a loved one in a hospital, or have the right to inherit an estate, because you denied them the right and the opportunity to become that spouse, is wrong. We have no right to deny someone something and then punish them for not being able to do it.

However, I disagree with it on a federal level. I believe our government is too big. It has too much control. I wish it was a state decision. Just like legalizing marijuana is a state decision. (Side note: I believe marijuana should be legalized in all states, as well.) I think it is our government's duty to inform us (or at least make the information available so that we can inform ourselves, such as labeling GMOs, as well as other things like that) but not to make decisions for us, such as mandating vaccines, etc. Now, I realize that the government is not MANDATING that gays get married, and I think you would agree with me that if they did, that, too, would be wrong. But that's not the issue here. The issue is that our federal government is too big, and the rights should have been left in the states' hands.

I do not agree with a gay lifestyle. I believe it goes against the teachings in the Bible, and I believe the Bible. I am a Bible-thumper, a Bible-believing Christian, a conservative... whatever you want to call me. I am not close-minded, or bigoted, or ignorant, or stupid. Not agreeing with their lifestyle choice does not mean that I want them to be treated as lesser humans. They still should be treated fairly. And that involves allowing them to get married, should they choose to do that.

How can I say all the above things while still being a Bible-thumper? I believe that marriage as defined by God is different than marriage as defined by the state. Marriage, as defined by the Bible, is between one man and one woman. It is a picture of Jesus, the bridegroom, and the Church, his bride. It is holy; it is sacred. It is a commitment. The federal definition of marriage is a piece of paper. It is a legal document. I agree that government should give that piece of paper to whatever two people want it. Personally, I believe that Jon and I got "married" twice. The first time was our "spiritual" or "religious" marriage. It was when we committed ourselves to each other. When we decided we were going to get married; when we said our vows and told each other we would love each other for the rest of our lives. The second "marriage" was when we signed the legal document, the legal marriage certificate. I believe that gays should be able to get married in the eyes of the state. I do not believe that qualifies as marriage in the eyes of God, because although they are committed to one another, they are not one man and one woman, as it says marriage is in the Bible.


It is not my intent in this post to to accuse, or condemn, or judge, anyone. My purpose is to explain my beliefs; to give my two cents. I am not trying to change anyone's opinion. I am trying to mitigate some of the anger and injustice that people feel, on both sides of this argument. If you don't agree with me, that's fine. But please, remain civil in your comments. No one appreciates or listens to or gives credence to someone who is being rude, calling names, or being mean. You will not changes someone's opinion by insulting them.

If Wishes Were Horses...

I wish losing a child left visible scars. I wish that when people see me walking through the grocery store and I look mad, upset, or like I'm trying not to cry, that they won't judge me. That they wouldn't tell me to just smile, to cheer up, to have a great day. I wish the could look at me, and see my frown, and that they could be kind but not patronizing; that they could understand without me having to tell them, that MOST DAYS ARE NOT GREAT DAYS. Instead of me shoving down the hurt a little further, pretending I'm not just okay, but happy and care-free, that I could be myself and be... sad. Mad. Maybe a little bit insane. Buy my cookies, donuts and cake in peace. Because sometimes I can't. I can't cope. I can't be happy. I can't even pretend to be happy.

I just wish people could know, without me having to say.




I wish I had my James.




If wishes were horses, then beggars could ride.

Technically...

Mother's Day. Father's Day. Celebrating those who give their lives to the wonders they've created. 

What happens when those babies die? Particularly when it's the only child.

People are very quick to tell Jon and me that we're still parents. And while technically we agree, we don't, really.

You see, we don't want to be parents on a technicality. 

Yes, we had a baby. HAD. We are not parenting. We don't live our lives catering to a baby; we don't HAVE a baby.

I may be a mother, but I am not mothering.

Jon is a father. But he isn't fathering.

We are parents on a technicality. And that just sucks.

UPDATE TO 3 STEPS TO PEACE

[Typed Wednesday, June 3]

If you haven't read my "3 Steps to Peace" post yet, do so by clicking here.

If you HAVE read my "3 Steps to Peace" post, you know how I was late for my period, and was hoping I was pregnant.

I'm not.

I started spotting Sunday, it stopped early Monday, and then started up again late Monday night. Tuesday I had spotting on and off all day, and Wednesday my flow picked up a bit, to what I would consider my period, but it was lighter than typical and didn't last as long as usual. But given it was so late (almost a whole week!) and I'm never late, as well as some other factors, I am pretty sure it was a miscarriage. It's impossible to say for sure, however, because I never got a positive test. I asked the doctor, and she said it could have been a pregnancy, but that since I never got a positive test, something had interrupted the natural progression of the pregnancy and therefore there was nothing we could have done to prevent the miscarriage, if that's what it was.

Jon and I are treating it that way.

I am doing okay with that. I was proactive in talking with the doctor, and feel there is nothing I did wrong or any way I could have changed the outcome. And never getting a positive test makes it a little less real. Jon made the comment that if I had gotten a positive, and THEN we miscarried, it would have made it a lot harder. I agree. So over all, I'm not too upset about it, which may sound harsh, but I just don't have the energy right now.

We have since done a follicle study (ultrasound of eggs as they're getting ready to ovulate) and the doctor was very optimistic. We did an IUI that day, and are now in the "two week wait." I am not sure if I will update right away or not, once we know whether or not it was successful. Jon says he feels optimistic. I do not.

It's so hard, being on this end of infertility and then childloss. There are so many dynamics; so much emotion. Please pray for me.

3 Steps to Peace

[Written Saturday, May 16, 2015]


A few weeks ago I found this pin on Pinterest:

I never did look up the reference for myself, but I kind of took this to heart, although in a different order

I started praying. More. I feel that since James died, I have been praying so much, but so often it's asking God for what I want. Now, maybe I'm just slow, but I realized: Jesus, when he prayed, did not just pray for things he wanted, but for what GOD wanted. And, you know, some things he wanted. So instead of praying, "God, give me what I want now, because I'm tired of waiting and I just want what I want and I want it now;" (only slightly more maturely than a five-year-old...), I started just talking to God. Telling him about how hard I've been struggling; asking him for his help, praising him for what he's done for me and in my life. Asking for faith, because faith is a gift, and I have been very low on faith lately.

I started thanking him. I have been trying so hard to focus on thanking God for what I have, and trying not to focus on what I don't have. I think I mentioned it before. But I've kind of slipped away from that. Well, a few weeks ago, I remembered the orphanage that George Muller had back in like the 1800s or 1900s in Germany. Sometimes he didn't have breakfast for the orphans, but they would sit down anyway, and give thanks to God for what they did have--even to the point of thanking him for their breakfast, which was not there. Invariably, someone would stop by with food shortly after the prayer. Those children never went hungry. That lesson was important to me. I started thanking God for the children he would someday give me. This took a huge leap of faith for me. How can I be thankful for something I don't have, yet? How can I rest assured in God, in this, the biggest desire of my heart? But I did it anyway. I don't know if it was heartfelt at first. But God is so much bigger than our infertility issues. I prayed with the faith; the hope; the longing; the desire that God would answer.

And I [tried] to stop worrying. God has perfect timing. God is teaching me something. This is outside of my control. I've done all I can to get pregnant, and I have to give it to God. This one, too, is hard, and I'm still learning, still working on it. 

Jon and I have been waiting to do IUIs. We haven't had the money. We want to. I want to. But we did not have the means to pay for the procedure or to take out a loan. We had to wait, and to trust. I again thought of George Muller. He would receive monetary donations for the orphanage; usually people did not specify where the money was to go, so it would go to some certain fund, I don't remember what. (Feeding the kids, or clothing them, or some other necessary area like that.) But sometimes, people would put a specific purpose for the money. Now, George did not go out and advertise that he needed $27.43 for new school shoes for the children, but whenever he prayed, trusting that God would answer his prayer, he would get a donation for $27.43 "For School Shoes."* So I started praying. I told God that if he wanted us to be able to do IUIs, he was going to have to provide the money, because we didn't have it. And it wasn't just that we would be able to penny pinch for the money. He needed to provide the funds and explicitly say it was for the IUI. We did not tell any one this. The following week I was talking with my parents and they asked how much the IUI would cost, so I told them. They asked when we would do another, and I had to say we didn't have the money yet, but when we did we would do one. A few days later, my mom texted me to tell me she and my father had set aside some money for us to do an IUI.** God does, indeed, answer prayer.

This whole thing, the entire time I've been going through this adventure listed above, started just before I ovulated this last cycle. I ovulated on a Sunday, and we did not have the money to do an IUI, although I didn't tell anyone that. It was a week or 10 days after I ovulated that my mom said she'd pay for our next IUI. I am currently 13, almost 14 days past ovulation. I have never had a luteal phase longer than 11 days. Pregnancy tests so far have been negative, but I'm having a hard time not getting my hopes up. I think I'm pregnant. I want, so badly, to be pregnant. But even so, I am praying, thanking God for the children I will some day have. For the peace, the comfort, the hope, that God will give me the desire of my heart; that I just need to wait on his timing; learn the lessons he wants me to learn; fight the good fight; and keep the faith. 

My God is surely the sustainer--the sustainer of hope, of faith, of joy, of strength. Without him, I am nothing. He is my rock; he is my salvation. My salvation from sin, yes; my salvation from damnation, yes. Even more, right now, he is my salvation from sorrow, from desperation, and from pain. He is the reason I can say all these things, the reason I can still have joy in the midst of this heartache. He is.

Disclaimer: I did not have the paragraph about needing money for an IUI to pull on your heartstrings--or your purse strings. I simply wanted to tell it like it is--to give you a clear account of what I've been going through these last few weeks. I AM NOT ASKING FOR YOUR MONEY. I am asking you to see the goodness of God, and the fact that HE EXISTS AND IS INTERESTED AND INVOLVED IN OUR LIVES ON AN INDIVIDUAL LEVEL. These posts are to bring glory to the Lord Most High.

*Not an actual example; one I made up to get the point across.

**Several days previously, I had mentioned that we wanted to do an IUI but that we might need help paying for it. But I didn't ask again; they brought it up. So, this might not be as "drastic" as George Muller's examples, but I still think it counts.

Just Say "No?"

I'm going to try to stay on topic today. I'm not very good at it.

Since James died, I've been asked several times by people who don't know my story if I have a family, or how many children I have, or if I have kids, etc. And I don't know what to say to them.

Most of the time, I find myself answering that no, no family, no kids, just my husband and me. Because to tell a random person who comes up to me while I'm working, asking questions that they don't really care to know the answer to, it's just depressing. And hard to say succinctly without sounding blunt. "Oh, I had one, but he was stillborn;" is not awesome conversation while handing someone a pound of coleslaw.

But there are other times I've said no when they asked if I had kids. Sitting next to a woman on a bench, talking, I said no. I think part of it is to protect myself. People pity those who have experienced that kind of loss. They try to say reassuring things, like, "well, you're young, you'll have another;" or "at least you can get pregnant." But those hurt just as much. I don't just want another baby, I want the one I lost. And we may NOT just be able to have another. We had to go through 3 years of infertility and an IUI to get James. And so far have undergone 2 more IUIs and waited 7 months "for another.". It's not as easy as it seems. Besides, just because we can theoretically have another baby does not make losing one better, easier or less important.

Even when I say 'no," though, people say hurtful things. "You're too young to have kids." "Wait a few years, you'll be glad you did," Lady, I knew I wanted kids early when I was 14. When I got married at 20, I wanted to start a family right away. I don't want to "be free" while I'm young; I want to give my energy and love to a baby now, while I have energy to give. I want to be a mother. Don't assume that because you regret having kids early, or think that kids are a burden, or that being in your 20s is an excuse to be immature and make mistakes that I believe that. Don't tell me to wait till I'm older, and have them as a second thought, as an "Oh, well, I've partied hard, but my body can't handle it any more... I know, I'll pop out a kid or two and be done with it." I don't agree with that. If you do, fine. But don't expect me to live my life by your ideals.

Sorry, I didn't mean to rant.

This post was supposed to be more about thinking through how I want to respond to people who ask questions. I don't want to deny James' existence. And if people want to know, I'm happy to tell them.

I was wearing my necklace (James' name and birthdate, and a picture of his footprints) at Target a few weeks ago. I had decided that if someone ever asked me how many kids I have, I would reply with something like, "One angel baby." Everyone knows what that means, right? And it's quick and not abrupt. Well, this woman asked me what my necklace was. I said it was my angel baby's name and footprints, and she replied, "Oh, how old is he now?" I said he had been stillborn in August. Even when I use the term "Angel Baby" some people don't get it... they should count themselves lucky to be unfamiliar with the term. Since then I have not used the phrase with strangers.

It's just hard. I feel like I lose no matter what. Either I bother people, they bother me, or we bother each other... there is no calm, un-upsetting way to explain what happened.

I still don't have an answer. I'm not sure what I'll say the next time someone brings up me having kids. I'm sure I'll just take it one situation at a time and roll with the punches. After all, I've already dealt with such a difficult thing. What's one more cutting remark?

Wheat- Corn- and Soy-free?

Hey.

Sorry I've been AWOL lately.

But today Jon and I are starting a two-week avoidance of all corn, wheat, and soy. Today went really well.

I weighed myself this morning. I WILL NOT be posting that weight on here, but I DID write it down and will be keeping track of it these next two weeks.

I am also keeping a food journal. What I ate/when, how I feel, etc. I really want to see if going off wheat, corn, and soy helps my mood, helps me feel better, and benefits Jon.

After two weeks, we will introduce one at a time and see how we do.

So, day one went well. I ate really healthy. Like, it wasn't just like gluten free sweets all day. I had a banana and peanut butter and a homemade fruit and nut bar for breakfast, salad and veggie chips for lunch, salad and soup for dinner, and a strawberry smoothie when I was craving something sweet tonight. No refined sugars, no processed foods... it was refreshing. I feel like I've gotten nutrients, which is kind of sad. We've been eating pretty badly since James died... we just haven't had the motivation to cook and be healthy.

So, anyway, today was easy and I was surprised. I thought I'd have intense sugar cravings, since my diet was like 80% carbs before, and those just turn right into sugar when you eat them, but I felt pretty good all day and got a lot done. So that's encouraging for tomorrow.

Hope the rest of the two weeks goes okay.

I Will Praise You.

This last week has been hard. I'm not ready yet to go into detail, but it was just a really hard week. For me, for Jon... just tough.

A few days ago I pinned this image:

It has brought me comfort. Today, I read the entirety of Psalm 22. I was curious about the context.

1 My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?
    Why are you so far away when I groan for help?
2 Every day I call to you, my God, but you do not answer.
    Every night I lift my voice, but I find no relief.

3 Yet you are holy,
    enthroned on the praises of Israel.
4 Our ancestors trusted in you,
    and you rescued them.
5 They cried out to you and were saved.
    They trusted in you and were never disgraced.

6 But I am a worm and not a man.
    I am scorned and despised by all!
7 Everyone who sees me mocks me.
    They sneer and shake their heads, saying,
8 “Is this the one who relies on the Lord?
    Then let the Lord save him!
If the Lord loves him so much,
    let the Lord rescue him!”

9 Yet you brought me safely from my mother’s womb
    and led me to trust you at my mother’s breast.
10 I was thrust into your arms at my birth.
    You have been my God from the moment I was born.

11 Do not stay so far from me,
    for trouble is near,
    and no one else can help me.
12 My enemies surround me like a herd of bulls;
    fierce bulls of Bashan have hemmed me in!
13 Like lions they open their jaws against me,
    roaring and tearing into their prey.
14 My life is poured out like water,
    and all my bones are out of joint.
My heart is like wax,
    melting within me.
15 My strength has dried up like sunbaked clay.
    My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
    You have laid me in the dust and left me for dead.
16 My enemies surround me like a pack of dogs;
    an evil gang closes in on me.
    They have pierced[a] my hands and feet.
17 I can count all my bones.
    My enemies stare at me and gloat.
18 They divide my garments among themselves
    and throw dice[b] for my clothing.

19 O Lord, do not stay far away!
    You are my strength; come quickly to my aid!
20 Save me from the sword;
    spare my precious life from these dogs.
21 Snatch me from the lion’s jaws
    and from the horns of these wild oxen.

22 I will proclaim your name to my brothers and sisters.[c]
    I will praise you among your assembled people.
23 Praise the Lord, all you who fear him!
    Honor him, all you descendants of Jacob!
    Show him reverence, all you descendants of Israel!
24 For he has not ignored or belittled the suffering of the needy.
    He has not turned his back on them,
    but has listened to their cries for help.

25 I will praise you in the great assembly.
    I will fulfill my vows in the presence of those who worship you.
26 The poor will eat and be satisfied.
    All who seek the Lord will praise him.
    Their hearts will rejoice with everlasting joy.
27 The whole earth will acknowledge the Lord and return to him.
    All the families of the nations will bow down before him.
28 For royal power belongs to the Lord.
    He rules all the nations.

29 Let the rich of the earth feast and worship.
    Bow before him, all who are mortal,
    all whose lives will end as dust.
30 Our children will also serve him.
    Future generations will hear about the wonders of the Lord.
31 His righteous acts will be told to those not yet born.
    They will hear about everything he has done.*

I love how this follows David's thought process. He doesn't say, "God, I know logically that you're there; but right now it sure doesn't feel like it!" No. It starts from where David is, right that second. David is crying out for help from a God he can't see right then. He feels lost. He feels abandoned. He doesn't qualify what he's feeling; he allows himself to feel it. And only AFTER that does he bring himself back, remind himself of this God that he's calling out to; reminds himself of who this God is, what this God has done. And he sees the faithfulness of God, the goodness of God, the praiseworthiness of this God. And then he praises him. Ah, to be like David. I'm getting there. But it's a process.

I know it's kinda long. I don't normally post stuff like this. But I wanted to share this with you. Reading this psalm made me think of the Newsboys' song "When The Tears Fall."

It's been a rough week. But God, by his grace, has been continually leading me back to him, reminding me of who he is. I am so thankful for my God, so thankful for my James. So sad that he is gone... But I will still praise God.


*New Living Translation

I'm Not All Right, I'm Broken Inside.

"Missing you comes in waves, and tonight, I'm drowning."

I am drowning. Being buried alive. Burned from the inside out. These memories of you, they won't stop coming. I can't fight back; I can't even defend myself. I am beaten down, blow after blow after blow. And I don't know that I want it to stop. These memories, they're all I have of you anymore. And every hit, every knock out brings me just a little closer to you.

I want to die. Not in a morbid, I'm-going-to-commit-suicide way, but in an I-need-to-see-you-again-and-that's-the-only-way-I-can way.

I can't do it. I can't not have my baby. I can't live without you. I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't. It hurts too much. It sucks. I don't want to feel the pain any more, and I don't want to be without you. I need you. I need my sweet little James. I need my arms to be full, my heart to be whole again. Everything hurts when you're gone. Paradise, lost. I had you for such a short time, and now I have to live for such a long time without you and the pain is killing me. I guess I don't mind that. I'll just get to see you sooner.

I'm sorry I didn't save you. I'm sorry you had to die. I'm so, so, so sorry. I wish I had gone to the hospital Friday night when you were so active. I should have read the signs. That was a warning, wasn't it? I'm sorry I didn't hear you. I'm sorry I didn't listen.

I. Hate. This.





p.s. please don't comment something about how God will be there for me, how there's a plan, how it'll get better. because yes, i know all those things, and no, they won't help right now. just let me hurt. let me cry. don't try to make it better. you can't. my baby is dead, and kind words won't bring him back. i know you'd mean well. i know you want to help. just...not tonight.

I Do All My Best Thinking...

In the shower. Don't we all?

Tonight (as every night) I was thinking about my Jamesy, and I had, what I think, is a profound thought.

A lot of people try to console me by saying there was a reason my James died. And while I agree with them, I think the focus should be on there was a reason James lived. Because God gave him to me for a reason, knowing that he would die. So while his death is important, and sort of defines him, his life should even more so.

And this thought was kind of re-enforced in my mind when I had this thought: The reason Jesus died was to save us, but the reason he lived was to be an example. To show us how to love, how to be righteous, how to pray, how to obey God... how to die. And what an example he was!

I had never really thought about this side of the coin in so many words. I had come to the conclusion that there was a reason God gave me James, knowing his time here would be so short. I took comfort in the fact that God's will was for James to die so young, for him to be taken from me--knowing how much I wanted that baby, how much I prayed for him, how hard we tried for him, having the IUI work on the first time, etc--making his life that much more important. But I had never really put two and two together before.

I'm tired. Maybe I'm just rambling, but I needed to get these thoughts out. I want to flesh them out a bit sometime, but this will do for now.

It's Been A Month Already...

It's been a month--almost to the minute--since I've seen and held my baby boy for the first and last time. Every single day I wish for those moments again, the few hours I got to see my son. It seems cruel that those minutes were so short that I count them every week, every "anniversary." I had from 7:11 pm until about 10:35 pm. That's it. Two hundred and forty minutes with my baby... well, with his body. He wasn't really there. Even so, my arms ache to hold him again, even if it is just like the only other time I held him; even if he isn't really there... but I can never get that back.

Nor can I ever feel those kicks, the hiccups, the flutters of his fingers. I will never feel him, ever again. That thought, those realizations, they break my heart.

I don't think this will be a long post... I just need to vent, to let things out, to let them flow out of my mind, through my fingers, and away. But I also don't ever want to forget how I'm feeling right now. I have this curse-slash-blessing thing going where I want to LIVE, to FEEL every moment; to enjoy the good and embrace the bad. I loved every second of being pregnant, and I lived in the moment during the entire thing... and that has been a huge comfort to me in the aftermath of all this crap. But I don't want to run from the pain, to ignore how I feel. I want to embrace that, too, and remember it... partly because it seems like it's part of James, now. Maybe that doesn't make sense, and maybe it's an awful thing to think. But it seems like that sorrow is part of James. Just like that joy of being pregnant was part of him, too. I don't ever want to lose the memories of either the joy or the pain, or I feel like I'll have lost part of James. ...I probably sound crazy right now...

I'm not saying I have to mourn for forever in order to remember James. I certainly don't feel the ecstasy I felt while I was pregnant. I won't have to feel so sad to keep his memory alive. But I don't want to FORGET how I feel, either... and now I'm just saying the same things over and over again.

I miss my baby. Nothing will ever change that. And I'll love him, always. This journey of healing is a long one. Maybe I'll pretend that by embracing the good and the bad I'm really just embracing my little James... holding him close. Because he died, I need to live, to experience. But not just in a passive way. I need to live and experience in an active way.

Does any of this make sense to anyone? Probably not, but I suppose it doesn't really matter. These are just my thoughts, I'm not trying to write for anyone else tonight. Maybe I'll look back in a year and have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about right now, but it's helpful to me in the moment, and that's the most important thing.

This Is What Happens When I Just Start Writing... I Had No Idea I'd End Up There.

Are you okay? How are you doing?

I hear these two questions multiple times every day. 

And my answer truly is, " Yeah, I'm doing okay." 



I hesitated to write this post, because I don't want people to think I'm lying, putting on a face, or even bragging. This is the honest truth. I am doing okay.

Now, I'm not great. I don't feel wonderful. I am not all sunshine and rainbows. But you know what? I'm also not Scrooge; I'm not depressed; I don't spend all my time lying around and crying. Maybe just lying around...

So many people are, I think, worried that my husband and I aren't handling the death of James well, but in fact, we're doing pretty darn good, given the circumstances. Yes, we cry (or at least I do). Yes, sometimes I'm sad and wish James were here. Some moments are definitely harder than others. And I hardly ever stop thinking about him. But most of the time, we go about our daily lives just fine. Not as robots or automatons, but consciously, like normal people do.

You see, Jon and I don't mourn like "those who have no hope." This parting, however painful it seems now, however long it feels to us, is really just a fleeting moment in light of eternity. Jon and I both know we're going to heaven when we die, and we know James is there now. So, really, very soon we'll be able to see our baby again.

My dad has been preaching in the book of Revelation, going through the whole book verse by verse. The last couple weeks he talked about the Millennial Reign. There's too much to go into detail, but one of the verses he spoke on talks about how more than we ever could imagine will happen (during the Thousand Year Reign), and that gives me hope that maybe, one day, I'll get to not only see my James again (oh joy eternal at that idea alone) but that maybe I'll get to see him grow up (cue happy tears). I really hope that maybe I will.

So, every day that passes is one day closer to seeing James again.

But sometimes that just isn't enough. It's HARD to lose your baby before he's even taken a breath. But oh, the people he managed to touch even so! As my sister put it, his "branches have touched so many." The little girl I used to nanny got saved. I know of another who is seeking God because of what happened with James and seeing the strength and grace that God has so obviously poured out on Jon and me. My family has gotten even closer than we were before. Jon and I are closer to each other. There is so much pure good that has happened. God can, of course, make good come out of any circumstance, but it seems like so much more; it seems like this was James' purpose. And I have full faith in God that his death was part of God's plan; that it was not "just something that happened" but that it was an important part in God's symphony.

My sister's friend gave this Bonzai tree to my sister, to remind her of James. It was because of this tree that my sister thought of how James' "branches have touched so many." I just love the analogy.

But knowing all these things... I don't think just knowing them would have made this cross of mine easier to bear. No. All the glory, all the praise for how well Jon and I are doing through all of this... that's all God's. HE has been so present in our lives. HE has given us grace to wake up in the morning, grace to make it through each day, grace to sleep at night. GOD is the one who is holding our hands, leading us on, giving us hope, even through all our sorrow and pain. And there is a lot of sorrow and pain. But it's not unending. We haven't given up hope. Someday we will hold our own baby, one we get to keep here on this earth with us for a little while. I have full faith in that. I am still scared. What if I miscarry? What if the baby is stillborn again, or worse, what if we get to see that little baby grow up and start to bloom, only to have God take it away again, too soon, by our human standards? What if, what if, what if. But even through all this, we are comforted. We'll have our baby, some day. And we will cherish it, and love it, and hold loosely, for things are fleeting.

I always wondered how Job could say, "The LORD gives, and the LORD takes away; blessed be the name of the LORD." I know, now. Because we as believers will always have the GRACE and MERCY of the Lord, even when things are hard and when they don't make sense. Even in the face of great trial.

I gave my son up unwillingly; how much harder it must have been for God, who must have loved His perfect Son more than I could even imagine loving James, to give His Son up willingly. How much He must love you and me! I have but one prayer: that because of James, because he died, that you might finally see God and accept His love and mercy. That you might acknowledge your sin, acknowledge that you deserve death in Hell and turn to the living God for forgiveness, for everlasting life in heaven with James and Jon and me. We would so love to see you there.

If you have questions about how to get that chance, to see James in person for real some day, to see him alive and happy and ...perfect... please, don't hesitate to ask me, ask a pastor, ask a friend. Because this... this is more important than the life of my son. This was the reason that he died. The reason Jesus died. Don't let those deaths be in vain.

August 29, 2014

There are really no words that could accurately describe how I'm feeling today. Tired. Sad. Reluctant. Devastated. Brokenhearted. Weepy.Overwhelmed. Like I can't do this. Today is going to suck.

I don't want to put my tiny little James in the ground. I want him here. I want my baby. My arms ache to hold him; my lips ache to kiss him; my eyes ache to see him. My heart aches to be near him. All the discomforts of labor, delivery, and the post partum period are nothing compared to this all-consuming pain.

And yet I have comfort. I have comfort in the pictures that Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep so graciously provided for us. I have comfort in the memories I have of him; of those 41 weeks with my baby that I cherished so fully. I have comfort in my husband and family. But most of all, I have comfort in the God of the universe; that He cares for me and can bring good out of any situation, no matter how awful; that He, too, lost a Son; that He will give me strength to get through this day, and the next, and the next.

Oh, my baby, if you could only be here with me for a little while longer! If only your daddy could hold you for a moment! We love you so much, James. Someday we will see you again. Someday we will get to know you; to hold you; to show you our love for you. Until then, you are safe in the arms of Jesus and I entrust you to Him. Jesus, please hold my little James close!

Pregnant After IUI: Week 41

There is only one thing I have to say today, and that is this: I am STILL pregnant. That's it. That's the update. Nothing at all has changed. Except...

I had an ultrasound today. Everything looked great, except that the amniotic fluid levels were on the low end of normal. (Normal is between 7 and 20; I was at 7.9.) Therefore, I have another ultrasound on Friday to check the levels again. I'm not sure if they'll want to induce me if they're lower; I'm guessing it will depend on how much lower they are.

Also, I had a teeny tiny bit of blood once when I wiped today (no cervical exam, so it wasn't from that). That's new. Never had that before. My doula said it's a good sign, and I could go into labor soon, but I've felt no different otherwise.

Baby has been SUPER wiggly lately. Lots of movement all the time, it seems. I am thoroughly loving it, especially knowing that I won't get to feel it from INSIDE much longer. The birthing of this baby is very imminent...

Oh, and at the ultrasound they estimated that Baby weighs 7 lbs. 2 oz., which seems like a good size to me. Although I'm not really *counting* on that number, since they have rather a penchant for being off-base on weight guesses.

Anyway, I'm hoping there won't be a "Pregnant After IUI: Week 42" update, but you never know... we'll have to wait and see!

Pregnant After IUI: Week 40

August 13th. This day seemed so far away, way back in November when I counted out the weeks to see when my due date would be if the IUI took. And now it's here, and almost gone, and I can't even believe it. Such an amazing journey this pregnancy has been, and will continue to be, I'm sure.

I think Baby dropped a bit today, which is super exciting because before Baby was riding so high, I was half-way convinced Baby would never come out. The midwife I saw today guessed that Baby wasn't much bigger than right around 8 pounds, so that's good news. Heart beat sounded great, and Theresa, my mother-in-law, who is visiting from San Diego, came with and was able to hear it. So that was really nice. =]

I've been trying to ...encourage... labor, lately. Yesterday and today I took hot showers in the morning, went for a long walk yesterday and a shorter one today, and am drinking red raspberry leaf tea. I also did some nipple stimulation, and never got any contractions... but Baby dropped today, so that's good.

Still not uncomfortable. Still no indigestion or hip or back pain. I don't really even *feel* pregnant... other than the baby moving around in there. And having a massive belly. Otherwise, I honestly feel great. I don't know how that's even possible at this stage... Also, despite my complete inability to "just say no" to anything laden with sugar (think ice cream, donuts, chocolate milk, etc) I have only gained 20 pounds this pregnancy, about which I'm super happy.

I'm looking forward to meeting this baby, and seeing Jon take on his new role as a father. However, Baby can come when Baby is ready. I just hope that's soon. =]

Pregnant After IUI: Week 39

You guys, I don't think this baby is EVER going to come. Not because I'm antsy to get this baby out and time feels like it's going slowly, but because this baby seems VERY comfortable in there. I've had no signs of labor yet. No nesting, no mucus plug, no bloody show, no contractions, very VERY little cramping... Baby hasn't even dropped yet! At this rate, I'll be pregnant for another month or more! (I know, I know, they won't let me go past 42 weeks, but let's be honest... that might as well be a year.)

Baby is growing well. At my midwife appointment on Tuesday (gosh, was that only yesterday?) the midwife guessed Baby to be close to 7 1/2 pounds, although she said it can be hard to tell, and not to put too much stock in it. I'm not worried. Baby's heart "beep" was in the upper 130s, which is perfect, and Baby was moving around, trying to get away from the doppler, lol. Little stinker.

My symptoms are the same as ever. Mild indigestion occasionally (there were a couple nights where it was fairly bad, but the ACV took care of it quickly). I've been really tired (gee, I wonder why), but it seems like my irritability/emotional episodes haven't been as bad. Or maybe I'm used to them? I dunno. Either way. My hands and feet have been swollen, but not absurdly so.

Baby's movements have changed some. I feel a lot fewer kicks and sharp movements, and a lot more of the there's-a-butt-pressing-up-under-my-boob or it-feels-like-there-are-bubbles-from-hands-near-my-hips type of thing. Sometimes I don't even notice them and I start to panic... but that's nothing unusual.

My hips, knees, and ankles have been hurting a bit more than previously, especially while I'm sleeping and not moving around much. My back also gets sore standing in one place for too long (like 5 minutes).

I can't say I've had crazy cravings this pregnancy, but I CAN say I've had consistent cravings... for ice cream. Oh man, I want ice cream. But not like a bowl of ice cream at home... I want a blizzard from Dairy Queen, or a shake from Culver's, or a sugar cone from the Village Scoop. Donuts will do in a pinch.

What else... I feel like there are still things I want to do before the baby comes, but if Baby were to come tonight, I'd be okay with that, too. I don't think we'll get everything done, and most of it isn't essential to Baby right at first, anyway. I think the major stuff is taken care of, really. I hope...

Pregnant After IUI: Week 38

*Insert obligatory disbelief statement here.*

38 weeks feels insane. Baby is pretty much ready for birth, gaining just a few ounces a week, and not much in length any more. Hair and nails keep growing, though! The vernix is starting to disappear, as is the lanugo, the super fine body hair. Now we're just waiting for that cocktail of hormones to signal labor!

I feel... conflicted. I am more or less ready to have this baby... and yet I am so completely not ready at all. I feel like there's a lot to do yet to get ready, although nothing too major, and I don't feel "done" being pregnant. I'm still not uncomfortable or exhausted mentally. I feel good most of the time. I do notice that I get overwhelmed really easily, and tend to not handle upset very well, but for the most part I feel really good. I don't have pelvic pressure, indigestion, pinched nerves or anything else like that. Having said all that, I would LOVE for Baby to be here before my mother-in-law comes to visit in a couple weeks (I know she'd love it, too!) and I can't wait to meet my baby. At the same time, I know life is going to change so much and I'm not entirely sure I'm quite ready for that change... So, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm ready whenever Baby decides to come, but I'm not overdone.

I have, however, been trying some labor induction techniques. I made a big jar of red raspberry leaf tea, sweetened it, added a bit of lemon extract, and refrigerated it. Now I just need to start drinking it... lol. Also, I got some evening primrose oil that I've been using each night, and I've spent (a little) time on my exercise/birthing ball, trying to get my hips moving and Baby to move down.

My success with these measures is not certain, yet. I have been having more cramping (it feels like I'm getting my period) and I've had more, and looser, stools these last 2 days or so, indicating my body is "prepping" for labor a bit. I haven't had a cervical exam since 36 weeks, when I was just a "fingertip" dilated (the midwife wanted to make sure Baby was head down). I don't plan on doing cervical exams much, so I won't really know how "ripe" my cervix is. That isn't always the best indication, anyway, of when labor will start or how long it will take.

We got the crib mattress yesterday! That's a huge relief. There is one more box we're waiting to get, and then I think I should be able to finish getting the nursery "ready" for Baby. We need to rearrange our bedroom so the bassinet can fit next to my side of the bed, and I need to organize a few things around the house. I would like to do some freezer meals, but right now we don't have room in the freezer for them, so they'll have to wait. I'm still not feeling very motivated to get things done, even though I want them to be done. I guess we'll see. Maybe I'll start nesting soon. My mom told me to call her when I start deep-cleaning the house, and she'll meet me at the hospital, ha ha.

I can't wait to meet Baby and see what s/he looks like, but I'm also totally soaking in these last few moments of pregnancy. I'm going to be sad when it's over. I'm sure the reward of having a baby will make it better, but it will still be sad to be done with this chapter of my life. I've wanted it for so long, and I've loved it so much. Not many people can say that. It sure has been a blessing to me.