Why going to church is a battle.

I am finding in my grief journey that going to church is a battle I face every single Sunday. I stopped going to Sunday school completely. I may "blame it on" not waking up in time and while that is the cases some Sundays, truthfully I don't go because I don't want to. I also don't go because often (even when I wake up with plenty of time to spare) it takes every single ounce of strength and energy just to get myself to go to the Sunday morning worship service.

In speaking with other grieving Momma's and others that have life changing hurting circumstances in their lives I have found this to be a common theme. I have begun to ask myself the question of why? Why when we are the most hurting and vulnerable do we hide and shelter ourselves? In their book "Captivating" by John and Stasi Eldridge they go into some of the reasons why, woman particularly, hide our vulnerability. Why our vulnerability is so draining to us, why we feel like we have to first put ourselves "together", make ourselves more "presentable" before we venture out into our worlds while we our hurting. I am not going to go into any more details of the book except that they have some interesting thoughts and reasons for this and I would encourage you to read the book. This said, I want to shine some light on why I, personally, struggle with going to church....here is a small glimpse into my Sunday battle... this is what I wrote my friend...more or less...I've added a few more thoughts to it:

"Church is a whole different level. You feel like you can't just go and "hide" because in our situation everyone knows your story, your pain. You're the one whose baby died. You feel like they are "watching" you. Are you singing? Are you praying? Are you praising the God that "took away?" You feel like either the Pastor's sermon is completely out of touch with where you are or that he sat down all week and wrote your name at the top of his sermon notes. You either feel ignored, or called out but not naming you but everyone "knows" he is talking about you...because they know your story. And while none of these thoughts may have an ounce of truth to them (or maybe they do) it takes all you have to fight them and then by the time you get home, your energy is depleted and you wonder how the hell you are going to get through the rest of the day and the week to come."

And isn't this true to an extent? When you are suffering in private, when no one knows about the job situation, or the arguments you have with your spouse everyday, when no one knows about the depression you battle, or the sin that you can't let go of, when no one knows the intimate details of your inner being and life: A sermon dedicated to "taking heart, being strong, trusting God's goodness," feels encouraging and uplifting, but when you are suffering in a very public way, in a way that you didn't choose to be made known, but it was anyways, because you can't just not be 39weeks and 4 days pregnant and then not have a baby in your arms and no one know why that is? When our lives are the most vulnerable and weak and public those are the times we feel the most "watched" and we begin to want to hide away...because we our limited in the ways we can protect ourselves.

The truth is some of us don't want to go to church because we don't have the strength to fake the smiles, and the "I'm alright"s. We don't have the strength to not let tears fall down our cheeks. We don't have the strength to not be vulnerable in a place that between worship and the preaching that speaks to our hearts, calls us to be vulnerable before our God in ways that we may not be vulnerable during the week. And any place that makes us vulnerable before other sinful people that have a tendency to judge (we all know this exists in every single church so lets not say it doesn't...) is a place that we want to avoid. Because it's too hard, it's too messy, we feel like we are too much and these people are going to run from us even more if they can see how totally messed up our grief in life has made us. So many of us choose to wait it out...We wait for a "good" Sunday to go...A Sunday that maybe has a special missionary speaker that isn't going to require us to do anything else but listen to their day to day life. We wait for a Sunday focused around a special event so that we can easily slip in and out unseen amongst the people.  In my case, I try not to go into the church before the official greeting time is over, and I try to leave as quickly as possible. In our vulnerability, we hide and we wait until we think we can pull ourselves together enough so that people will want to be apart of our lives again.

Personally, I'm not a great hider. People can always tell that something is wrong with me...My husband says that even when I put on a "smile" people can tell it's a fake one. They can also tell when I'm extremely happy and pleased in life as well. I'm not a great hider, I'm not a great liar either. So as a result I have had to develop other ways to hide...thus not being present for meet and greet time, and leaving before anyone gets the chance to talk to me, not looking people in the eye ect....I've "adapted"to my surroundings in order to feel like i'm at least surviving. But we all know surviving is not thriving...but that is a topic for another day.

So there you have it...there you have why Sundays are so damn hard for me. Why I wait till the last possible second to come in. Why I look like I don't want to shake your hand at a greet time, Why I leave before you have the chance to offer me a sympathetic smile....Church is a battle field for me. It's hard...it's tough, and it drains me. So then why do I even bother going at all? I've been asking myself that very question and here are a few thoughts on it.

 The Holy Spirit doesn't let me not go. Literally, most of the time, if I stay home from church it's not a "relief" it just ends up being a whole different battle. And not because I feel "guilty" for not going or because I"m afraid I'll be judged for not going...no it's because I KNOW that I NEED to go. . But I don't have the strength and where with all most days to dive into the Word. I don't have the strength most days to Praise God and worship him. I don't have the strength most days to be completely focused on God's goodness. Church is the one place where I get fed anything close to "truth" in the midst of the lies that I have to battle about myself on a daily basis.  The Holy Spirit doesn't let me not go because he knows that I need to be there. My soul needs to be taken care of and if I can't take care of it myself during the week then I need to be there on Sunday. This isn't to say that I'm going to start going to Sunday school whole heartily again, no. I do have some Sundays when God says 'stay home today' be alone with me today.." and that's okay too.It's also not to say that if you don't go to church then the Holy Spirit just isn't advocating in your heart enough to do it. But I think all of us at times feel the tug and ask ourselves the question "maybe I should go today?" It just means that, for me I would, personally, rather go and face the mental battles, than stay at home and fight the Holy Spirit that is drawing me to God when I want to run away. I run away from God in plenty of otherways, going to church is one act that says to my own heart "Okay...I'm still opened to my God."

I also still go to church in the midst of my own very outward vulnerability because I still long to connect with others. I am still hoping that someone will consider me worth their time and effort to make time for me some other day during the week. I still hold out hope that someone will say "Hey, i know this is a hard time for you. I would love to just take you out for a drink, ice cream, whatever and just get to know you more." I go because I still hold out hope that even in the midst of my crazy grief and the fact that I am likely to cry at any moment  that someone will want to embrace this crazy vulnerability of mine.

I still go to church because my heart still desires to praise God even though I have no clue what his plan is for me and I honestly at this particular time am having trouble trusting that God has "good" plans for me.

I still go to church because I have hope that somehow God is going to use me and all my crazy, messed up self, to help someone else. That God will be able to use me and speak to the person that is able to keep their suffering private...that see God is still working, look, watch, have hope, take heart, he is still working in her so surely he must be working in you too.

But the reasons I still go do not make the battle any easier for me, going to church is a battle, at times an exhausting one and I don't go to church those Sundays....but it's still a battle worth having, I think?

a mixture of thoughts

Maybe it's the gloomy whether and no sunshine? Maybe it's the fact that even when I'm not working I can't fall asleep until 3 or 4 in the morning still? Maybe it's because our house is cold even when the heat is turned up? Or Maybe it's because instead of holding a baby to sleep I hold a 10lb 7oz teddy bear? Maybe it's PPD hitting me later (and yes just because I lost my baby doesn't mean I am immune to PPD now)?  Maybe it is all of these things?

I can't quite put my finger on it but I think I am hitting a rut of depression myself. My body is achy, I am tired all of the time and I just don't feel like doing anything, even good things. I force myself to go to work but I am coming to the point where even that is getting hard to do. Phantom kicks come during all times of day, my lower abdomen is constantly sore, aching, remembering the pain of the night we lost our Katherine. I hate that about 5miles away there is a mark-less grave where my baby's body is probably well decomposed by now. I hate that books help me feel better but only for a little bit of time, I hate that this is a burden that I am going to have to carry with me for the rest of my life.

What does one do? How does one constantly take the hurt and have it meet the healing? How does one heal? Can I? Will these feelings of inadequacy, doubt, confusion, emptiness, restlessness ever go away? Will I ever make any close friends, right here, where I live? So many questions and no real set answer.

I know that my future hope is in Christ but how does one put hope in Christ in the here and now? How does one live with that future hope always in the front of their mind? How does one fight the constant battle to live for Christ while struggling through grief and depression?

I told Carl the other day that I don't talk to people much because I no longer feel like I have anything significant or important to say. Before Katherine died I could talk about her, the pregnancy what we were looking forward to, the awful birth plan, and now what do I have to talk about? Where is my voice now? I have a voice of hardship and depression and while it isn't always like this there are more days where I feel this way than there are days where I don't.  I feel like I've hit an early empty nest syndrome. My older kiddos will be off to school this next year what will I do with myself other than "clean." If I am going to return to work full time, well I certainly don't want to spend the next 10-30yrs of my life working for Wendy's ....lol. I feel like I have to find a whole new me. I have no idea who she looks like. Who this person that has lost a deep part of them really is anymore...and it sucks....because I had finally just found and was comfortable with the old me. Maybe that's my problem maybe I grew too comfortable.

I don't know what God's plan is in allowing Katherine to die. I see how he is working and growing and changing my husband for the better and developing his story. But mine? I fear that this experience has done the exact opposite to me.

I used to not be afraid of adventure, I actually sought it. I used to have hope and optimism about what God would do with our future. I used to dream about the future. Now I just have a lot of fear. Fear of even trying to have more children whether biologically or through adoption. Fear of ever leaving this small central Indiana town because our daughter is buried just 5miles away and what kind of parent just abandons their baby? Fear that, worse yet, this fear won't go away and I will succumb to it and not allow myself to venture out again. Fear that God isn't going to use me because I  am less of a faithful follower now than I was before this happened. Fear that He won't change me because I won't want to listen enough in order to change. Fear that I will try to rush this stage of grief and never really deal with it and it will come back to haunt me later.  So much fear... and how does one apply 2 Timothy 1:7

^"....7 for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control."

because I know that this fear that I feel does not come from God but I also don't know what transforming that fear into love and self control looks like. I know what it has looked like for other grieving Momma's but I am unsure of what it will look like for me. The little bit that I picture it to look like but then again comes in the fear that it won't ever happen so why set myself up for more heartache?

A few weeks back our grief therapist reminded us of the story of Peter. Of how Peter was so zealous for Christ and how at times Christ had to rebuke him. Our therapist reminded us of how Peter betrayed Jesus and after his death "gave up," he went right back to where he had started when Jesus met him "fishing" because, probably, Peter didn't know what else to do next. Peter hit rock bottom, and who still showed up after this...Jesus. Jesus still came and found Peter even after Peter had betrayed him. Restored his relationship (the relationship that Peter broke) with Peter and then mightly used Peter to build HIS church.  

Truth be told I had forgotten Peter's story. I relate to Peter the most probably out of all the disciples. Proud, arogant, zealous, and also fearful and runs at the first big sign of trouble. What hope I gain from remembering Peter's story is that JESUS still came and found Peter again, JESUS restores Peter AGAIN, JESUS uses Peter AGAIN. Peter's story gives me hope that God will use me despite my own fear issues.

³ Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, ⁴ to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, ⁵ who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. ⁶ In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, ⁷ so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. ⁸ Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, ⁹ obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.

These verses are verses that I have often applied to other trials of my life. I haven't wanted to apply these verses to my current trial because I don't want God to use something so big, so life changing, and so heartbreaking to refine my faith....but atlas HE IS. I don't like it, I certainly don't know if I can say that I am "rejoicing"  in it but I am taking a deep breath and soaking it all in. Because even in this suck-fest (as another blogger momma would say) of a trial that I am in I know that somewhere there is peace in the midst of the chaos and good in the midst of the pain....it's just really hard to see some days.

It's the not so most wonderful time of the year.

So far this holiday season has been very painful. I have been surprised at how the ache of my sweet Katherine being gone has often consumed me. We have a tree up and decorated, we have presents wrapped, and stockings hung, and while all of these things have aided in making the holiday season a little more joy filled none of these things have taken away the pain and longing that I have for my Katherine.

What is it about the holidays that are supposed to be the "most wonderful time of the year" that make it not so much to those of us that have lost dear loved ones? I am told over and over again that one day I will enjoy the holidays again but it almost seems impossible because its hard to imagine that I'll enjoy anything again without my Katherine being present.

Don't completely misunderstand me...I did just tell a friend the other day that there are "glimpses" and "moments" of joy, hope, and peace and when they come we do our best to soak every inch of them in and we pray that it will be enough to get us through until we get to see the next glimpse. At this stage though it is never constant, it's only bits and pieces, all of which we our very thankful for but we long for the day when the constant will set in and take root and take place. As our therapist tells us, our lives are now in a place where the hurt is constantly needing to meet the healing. Where our hope in Christ co-exists with the empty longing and devastation we feel over Katherine. It is a confusing place to live in wondering which part is going to rule in your heart on any given moment of the day.

Lately, I haven't been able to sleep without at least one of our kids in our room. I check in on them ever night just to make sure they are breathing. A little over a year ago we had a "scare" with Zach almost drowning at a swimming lesson of all things. I remember in those moments of running to quickly try to get him out of the water fearing that he would die before I could get to him. I remember my heart racing, feeling like it would beat out of my chest and when I threw open that side door I thought for sure I was going to have to pull my sons lifeless body out of the water....but what I was greeted with instead was the life guard had "FINALLY" seen him and got him out. There my little boy was breathing, coughing up the water, and looking at me telling me that he was "okay." I told my husband that I remember hoping that I would never have to feel that same fear, desperation, and hopelessness again. But no, instead of getting to not feel those things again I got it 100x worse...I got to live it with Katherine. There is no comparison between the two, one is just merely a "feeling" a fear of what could have been...the other is a "feeling" of what is and living reality.  Trust me when I say that the two do not compare. How could they really?

Everyday I try to fight to keep some type of "wonderful" into this season. I fight for it myself and for my other living children, and for my husband.......but the reality is that in the midst of the joy and wonder is this incredibly deep unspoken pain and longing that often feels so confused as to what to do with it all.

So, while I may wish you all a Happy Holiday's and a Merry Christmas I really do mean it but for me this year it is not going to be the most wonderful time of the year. What it will be is another battle to get through and another struggle and moments of joy, peace, and hope. It will be a season where we find ourselves longing for Jesus the most, praying for comfort and healing the hardest, and asking others to try to be sensitive when we aren't feeling up to being "merry and bright."

And here are two pictures that convey the confusing season of life we are in.

Lonely, sleepless nights.

It's another sleepless night. These sleepless nights are a part of the reason why after 5years of being a stay at home mom I decided to go to work for Wendys, at least at work I am physically doing something productive, which in turn makes me emotionally feel better and then by the time I get home from work I usually pass out and get the sleep i don't get other nights.

These sleepless nights are the nights where I feel the most lonely. When everyone I love is in bed, sleeping, or trying to sleep. I don't have any distractions, I am left with me and my thoughts which often feel so bleak in these early morning hours.

The truth is I often feel so abandoned in these early morning hours. During the day I can get through without receiving a "I'm still thinking of you note." or a call from a good friend because I'm busy. At night though, is when I start thinking about all the reasons why" I don't get the "I'm still thinking of you notes" or calls.  See life goes on for the rest of the world even though I am still grieving.

It's easy to feel forgotten, or not important, when you are constantly told by others that care.."I've been meaning too....I've wanted too....but I am just so busy with......" Yes, I know, your life keeps rumbling forward while mine has just seemingly felt like it is frozen. While I am at time "busy" myself my grief doesn't take a rest. It is with me every single day...and while you may say "You don't have to do this alone..." the truth is "Yes, Yes I do." because unless you can step into my aching heart, and or actually take the time out of your busy schedule to initiate interaction with me outside of a "church" or "grocery" shopping setting, then no, no you can't walk this road with me. In order to walk the road with someone you have to come along side of them and go on the ups and downs of the roller coaster even if you are only in the back seat. But if you are standing on a completely different road that bears in completely different directions but only occasionally crosses my path you are not walking this road with me and you are just merely watching me.

That said many people reading this may be thinking..... "Invite others over. Ask a woman you would like to get to know out? Reach out yourself. If people say that they are willing take them up on it" My response to this usually is "I have, but I'm the only one doing it and it's exhausting." See, the truth is, it takes me so much energy to just wake up and get out of bed and to just breathe some days that I don't emotionally have what it takes to go to someone and beg them to help me. And  when I put myself out there and say in many different formats "This is what you can do for me" No one really listens, and it gets ignored or brushed to the side in the midst of every day "busyness."

Then there is the perspective of "Well, it's not that people don't care it's just everyone else is going through their own crap." Yep...ain't that the truth we all have our own crap that we are going through every single day. Your crap matters just as much as my crap matters and that's the truth too. I know this and this is why I try my best to extend grace over and over again to well meaning and well intentioned people who say things but don't follow through; this knowledge also keeps me from asking you to walk with me in my own crap.

The truth is I see how tired those that have helped us greatly are. I see the weight that I have placed on them. I see their own weariness and their own struggles to keep loving on me, a grieving parent. I see the emotional toll I am on them in the midst of their own crap and so I step away, and I wait until I can see that they are ready to take "me" on again.

I said to another momma friend the other day that what often hits me the hardest the most is the realization that at 31years old I am going to have to learn to live with this pain for the rest of my life. The grief will always be there it will just change as time goes on.  I also said that I don't want to do it. I don't want to have to carry this pain with me until I die....because it is a hard burden to bare. It is a burden that the more time goes forward the more I realize I alone must bare it. Yet, I do have hope. I am thankful that Jesus often carries me when I can't walk on my own two feet anymore. He doesn't take away the emotional pain but he often helps make it bearable. I am thankful that when others are caught up in their busy lives and though may not "forget" about me, don't show that they remember me, that Jesus is always here to cry on.

In the midst of my loneliness I am hopeful because I know that I am not alone. God has walked this path before me and he walks it with me. I am thankful for that. I still feel lonely, but I am still thankful that God is with me.

After all...

Today, exactly a year ago I found out that I was pregnant with our sweet Katherine. I didn't even miss my period. I woke up that morning feeling a little sick and I just knew. I had to go get a pregnancy test, I just had to. My husband encouraged me to at least wait until I missed my period because he didn't want a negative test to come out and then have to buy me another pregnancy test later. So, I told him a fib, I said "But dear don't you know they sell two in a box for, like, the exact same price as one."  So he agreed we would buy the test early. It turned positive, slowly, but it turned positive.

I sit here, writing, smiling at this memory of the first few moments that we realized a new life was growing inside me. That was a joyous day. That joy of that day is one of the reasons why we gave her the middle name of Joy because from the first moment we realized a baby was in my womb we had joy. Thoughts of her, and my pregnancy, still bring me joy. I think her middle name has lived up to its part.

Yet, today, I also feel deep sadness. The joy I have today is only a memory of a joy that once existed. It is a glimpse of what was and no longer is and that makes this day also feel so sad. I long for that tangible joy again. I long to have my sweet baby Katherine Joy, in my arms. I see Facebook photos of so many others that have their precious babies in their arms and it is not a jealousy that I feel towards them but an emptiness and a longing for my daughter.

I miss her so much today. I miss the joy that brings a smile to my face this exact moment, I miss the hope and the anticipation of her arrival. I miss her. I long for her.

But, this week, today, something has changed in my grief process. Today on a day where I miss and long for her so deeply, I have also experienced more hope than I have felt since before the day she died. Today of all days, in the midst of joy mixed with the pain, my heart remembered that God hasn't abandoned me.

Not from the first moment I went into labor and "knew" that something wasn't right, not when I was told she was dead, not when I was rushed for an emergency c-section, not when I died and was brought back to life. Not at the hospital holding her cold,  lifeless body; not in the moments of planning her funeral, not when we buried her, and not at any point in the last 3 months has God ever abandoned me.


I felt like He had.  Listening to sermons was like listening to nails on a chalk board these last 3 months, with thoughts of "that's easy for you to say. Yeah right? Where is God now? Why isn't this true for me?" all running through my head. Picking up my bible to read verses that should comfort my soul, didn't "always" do so. My prayers have just felt like they were hitting the wall and on top of it all I have felt utterly useless, worthless, and like a complete failure.

But not today...

On a day that maybe should feel hopeless, I wasn't. I was filled with hope. A hope that didn't come from me having a baby in my arms, or the dream of what could be. Today my hope was in Christ.  A deep hope I haven't felt in a long time. A hope that allowed me to talk about my Katherine with a smile on my face and passion in my voice. A hope that reminded me just how precious I am to God.

The thought, alone, of God sending his son, to die on a cross, to redeem me of my sin, in order to give me everlasting life...told me more about exactly where God has been in these last 3 months. Right by my side. No one sacrifices their child for another person if they didn't think they are were worth saving. And if I am worth saving to God, than this same God certainly wouldn't just abandoned me when I need him the most; He just didn't give me what I wanted. I hate that he didn't give me what I wanted, but he never abandoned me. Not for a moment has he ever left my side.

The following song speaks so much to my heart.

Not for a moment...

"You were reaching through the storm  walking on the water. Even when I could not see.
In the middle of it all. When it felt like you were a thousand miles away, not for a moment did you forsake me.

After all, you are constant.
After all, you are only good
After all, you are sovereign
Not for a moment did you forsake me
Not for a moment did you forsake me

You were singing in the dark, whispering your promise. Even when I could not hear.
I was held in your arms, carried for a thousand miles to show not for a moment will you forsake me. Not for a moment will you forsake me

Every step, Every Breath you are their
Every tear, every cry every prayer,
In my hurt, at my worst, when my world falls down
Not for a moment, will you for sake me. Not for a moment will you for sake me.

Even in the dark
Even when it's hard

You will never leave me"


 And that is the truth...Not for a moment has he ever forsaken me. Not one. No, He did that to his son, he forsook his son. He left his son to die on a cross for the salvation of mankind, but me? No he has never left me. He has only ever turned to me,  helped me, and guide me through even the most difficult of days.

Today that thought brought me hope on a day that  have honestly dreaded because I didn't want to remember the "hope" that I felt a year ago and no longer feel today. Instead God allowed me to feel as well as remember a deeper hope one that will never leave me. His Grace, His Love, His Son that bore my sin on the cross so that I can have this everlasting hope that will never leave. No, I may not have gotten what I want and long for, but He has never abandoned me.


After all, HE is constant
After all, HE is only good
After all, HE is sovereign
Not for a moment will HE forsake me.

I choose love

When we lose someone significant and close to us we have this empty place that used to be so full. The empty spot seems so empty because the object of which we loved is no longer here for us to love on anymore, but the love stays. So, those of us left with this empty whole and yet all the love feel lost and confused because we no longer have an easy, obvious, choice of what to pour our love into. Then we are left with a choice of what to do with that love. We can reign it back in, stuff it way down inside, and maybe someday, if we choose, let it out again; or we can keep the love right where it is, out there for all to see, but transfer the love that we would have poured into that significant person and pour it out onto someone or something else.

The transfer of love is why  many people start foundations, give money to research, make bears, make wigs, run marathons ect. For the truth is our lives are way more blessed having loved and lost that person then never having had them in our lives at all; even though the fact that we love them is the reason why we are hurting so greatly when they are gone.

I have this incredible friend that I have never even met, but our journey in infant loss has united us together. The other week she did an extremely difficult thing to do in the midst of her grief and she chose to love another mother-to-be. She chose to celebrate life even though her own precious son wasn't here to do the same. She chose to give an incredible act of love to someone that may or may not even know how difficult it would be to do so.What seems to be an obvious, ordinary, "of course she would," task is actually this extreme act of love for herself, the person she gave it to, and to God.

I am thankful that our acts of love that may seem like common ordinary things to another human being doesn't go unnoticed by my God. He knows that my doing the dishes and laundry, that my cleaning the house, reading books with my kiddos, going to the store and buying groceries, and the feeding of my family is a difficult task for me to do right now. My own self wants to take over most days, crawl into my bed, and stay there and just cry. But I don't ....I choose to take that extra love that I developed for Katherine and love my family even more even though sometimes it hurts. Yes those are common ordinary tasks that pretty much any decent human does for their family but God knows my heart and he knows how hard choosing to love my family right now is and I like to think that he is proud of me for doing it anyways.

Losing a child is so so hard. I can't adequately describe how difficult it is. Today something happened between my husband and myself, and I felt like this couldn't really be real life? This has got to be a scene from a movie somewhere and I am just watching it unfold, I am not really living this, this just does not happen in real life. But it does.

My dear friend that I mentioned earlier, posted 1 thing on her Facebook page she said "I choose love." Those words have echoed in my mind,  I have turned them over and over and over again. This last week when I have wanted to just stay in my bed and not take care of my family because my grief for Katherine is so overwhelming I say to myself "I choose love" until I get up and actually do it. On the days when my husband and I don't feel like enemies, but also don't feel like friends either, I say those words again "I choose love" and find myself hopeful for our marriage again.  When I pass the pregnant women in the supermarket, and I go past the adorable baby outfits that we would be buying for Katherine and I'm tempted to get angry, bitter, and jealous, I say to myself "I choose love" and I buy one of those baby outfits and send it to a friend far away instead.

True love hurts. Anyone that says love is easy really doesn't know what love really is. Love is not easy. I think of some of the things 1 Corinthians 13 says about love...

" Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant ⁵ or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;^{[ 6} it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things."

All of these "things" are not easy to do, love hurts. I want to choose love. I choose love.

The old me comforts the new me

I read this blog post from my old blog. It's dated over a year ago, before I was pregnant with Katherine. If you have the time you should read it because it a small glimpse of a person that I miss. Ironically the same person that I miss happens to be the same one that encouraged my heart today. In a time where I am so not finding encouragement from others, or at least from those that I would expect, I was able to glimpse back to a different me and find encouragement through God's work in my life at that time.

I find it ironic that though there is little anyone else can say to me that brings me any comfort, and I desperately search for it, I really do, my own written word comforted me today. It comforted me not because it was eloquently written but because it reminded me of the very truth I found myself reading this morning in 2 Corinthians 1^{: 3-4}  "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God."

For the last 3 months when I find myself asking the question of "Why me? Why this?"  the above verses have always popped into my mind. I would always shove them aside though because who would ever pray that God  would allow us to suffer just so that we could comfort others going through similar trials.  Honestly, who wants to believe in a God that allows his people to suffer just so that they can comfort others that are suffering? 

It doesn't make a lot of sense but it's true. Sometimes when fellow believers suffer it isn't because they have sinned and God is punishing them, it's not always because God has some big cosmic lesson to teach. It could just be that God is seeking to comfort others through his people in ways that HE has comforted his own. Some people only come to know Christ in the midst of their suffering but if God's people have never suffered in the same ways that the rest of humanity suffers it would make it a whole lot easier for individuals to say to Christians "ha, what do you know about suffering?" 

It seems to be that is through our suffering that Christ is both glorified, and that we are most used to spread that glory. While I find comfort in this thought it doesn't change the fact that I am hating this suffering that we are enduring right now. I hate it. I would much rather have my baby Katherine in my arms, my husband not struggling with depression, and my mind not feeling like it's going crazy, than to  be sitting here typing all of this up right now. But this is where I find myself. 
  
I once had someone say to me a long time ago that I would be able to comfort and spread hope far more than they would ever be able to because I had suffered more than they; I remember honestly responding with "but I don't want to have to suffer in order to do that." 

I think of Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane when he prayed
"My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will but as Thou wilt." 
Even Christ didn't want to have to suffer, but he was willing to for a bigger purpose, for the salvation of man kind. It's interesting how some of the best work we will ever get to do in our lives requires the most hardship to get to the finish product. 

Another friend has often said that sometimes their is no good that comes out of the bad, that it's just bad, bad things just happen and there is no reason for it. I would differ with that good friend based on the verses in 2 Corinthians....sometimes the only reason why something bad happens is so that we can comfort others that have the same bad things that happen to them. True, God doesn't have to do it through his people. He didn't have to choose me to suffer this loss of a child in order to one day comfort someone else that has lost a child, but he did and I have to hope that one day when I reach heaven and ask God personally "Why did you take Katherine from us.." He will be able to shine a light behind me and see "....look at all the people I was able to comfort through your affliction ..." and maybe, just maybe, in that moment in the presence of my Savior I will be able to say "Wow....I get it now."  

Summing up, the old me has helped comfort the new me....strange how that works.

Molly Bear is coming home :) and other thoughts

I can't believe how quickly we were able to raise 450 to bring our and 9 other Molly Bears home. I know it's just a Teddy Bear but I also believe that this bear is going to be a significant part of our healing and in memorializing Katherine in years to come. I am so incredibly thankful by the people that shared their love and support in this way not only to us but to 9 other families. 9 other families will be receiving their Molly Bears with an in "Honor of ....' cards included with the bear. It is a fulfilling feeling knowing that I helped bring 10 comfort bears to families that need them.

I am sitting here with anticipation now, dreaming of what our bear is going to look like, how the volunteers are going to incorporate pink and purple colors, and how does one actually embroider a caterpillar on a teddy bears tummy? What I am also thinking about is how Carl and I can possibly continue to help other families that have lost an infant and in the process share with them Christ's love.

I won't lie, I've had many ups and downs in my short 31years of life. Katherine is not my first significant loss either but her death alone has brought about serious questions about God. Questions that, I thought the answers I had before her death, were satisfied. I never thought that I would doubt, struggle, and wrestle to this extent with God again. I mean, the Lord and I have had some big tumbles in my lifetime I had hoped that by this point I would have grown more and been able to not question as much but I have and I am. What does this have to do with wanting to help other bereaved parents and share them the love of Christ? Well, I think the biggest thing is even though I have doubted, and that I am wrestling, I still see God's goodness, and mercy. I still see the sacrifice (maybe even more so now that I know what it feels like to lose a child) that God made giving up his son for humanities salvation. I still see the ways that God is taking care of us, providing for us, helping us in ways that we aren't worthy of or even deserve. I may be weak but God is strong.

So what are our ideas of how we can help other grieving families. Well, I've thought about just starting by what we did with Molly Bears. Raise money for the foundations that have aided us in our own grief. Possibly raise money for the Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep foundation which donated their photographer skills so that we can cherish a photo of our beautiful Katherine for as long as we live. As well as for foundations like Molly Bears that again aids in comforting grieving families with the gift of a weighted teddy bear. However, our biggest thought, maybe even dream right now, is one that would be to set up a memorial fund for Katherine in which the funds given towards it would go to help other grieving families pay for their children's funerals and/or their memorial headstones.

When Katherine died we knew that burying her was going to be costly. What we didn't know is that her memorial stone was going to be just as costly. Katherine is buried next to two other, currently unmarked, graves. Every time I visit my heart breaks that these two families that don't have a grave marker of any kind for their babies. While it could be true that they emotionally just don't want one placed; the realities of it really though are more likely that between living life, house, and car issues, they may not have the funds to shell out close to a $1000 or more to have a headstone or marker placed. I have been so thankful that we have a place that we can go to remember our beloved daughters short life. One of the only things that has brought me comfort when we visit her grave is knowing that her headstone is coming. I can't imagine not having her name etched in something to acknowledge her existence and her body's resting place. Mine and Carl's hearts have just been deeply pressed on to try to find a way to bring these other nameless graves their names and in the process share the love of Christ reminding these families....that God hears their cries and has counted their tears and has not forgotten about their babies.

Starting a foundation of any kind isn't easy but starting a foundation that takes and operates off of donations is especially difficult. We have to make sure that it gets done right and that people that donate get their "tax credit" so to speak, and that the foundation gets the proper paperwork etc filed. As we see where this dream of helping to provide for other grieving families will go, please pray with us.

It may be just a teddy bear but for me it's a small piece of her coming home.

Wow! I am just blown away by everyone that has chosen to give to the Molly Bears Rally. I seriously am super excited about the possibility of receiving my Molly Bear and 9 other families also receiving their Molly Bears by Christmas. I really, truly am. I know that to the outside world a 10lb 7oz teddy bear with a little caterpillar embroidered on it is nothing to get excited about, but to me it feels like I am so close to bringing a piece of my baby Katherine Joy home. My heart and arms are aching for her. I know a teddy bear isn't going to replace her. I probably won't, and I hope that I don't, become a crazy lady that pretends my teddy bear is my baby and takes it every where that she goes; but it is something tangible for me to feel and to hold when the ache is too great.

Thank you to everyone that has donated so far. We are so close to the 450 goal. I am super excited about bringing our Molly Bear and 9 others to their homes by Christmas. Any little bit will help us reach our goal, 5, 10, 15 even just sharing the status for others to think about and consider helps as well. You can click on the words Molly Bear Rally in the paragraph above...or click directly to this link. https://rally.org/covers/gmpGabIYFQ1

Any donations made through the link is completely safe and secure. Molly Bears receives the donations directly (meaning I don't get the money first and then send it to them it just goes straight to Molly Bears.) If 12 people donated just $10 and 1 person donated just 5 we would make our goal. Would you consider donating?

Thank you so much for helping bring a little joy to a grieving family this holiday season.

Update: Now we only need 4 people to donate just 10.00 each to make our goal. I can't wait till I get the email from Molly Bears saying that we get to have our Molly Bear home sooner. 

Biopsy Results and 3months

Well the biopsy results came back a lot sooner. It is not cancerous, just a very weird bruise. I know that my husband is very thankful for this. I, however, sort of feel like, "it was just a bruise and now I have an even bigger one. for no reason." lol Oh the irony.

Today marks Katherine's would be 3 month old mark. 3months my baby's body has been lying in a grave and 3 months where my arms have ached for her. not sure that longing will ever go away.

In 3months so much has changed and yet hasn't changed at all. I am a different person than I was 3months ago. I won't lie...I cuss more than I used to, not really proud of it but at the same time don't really feel bad about it either. I drink a glass of wine on occasion, as it seems to be one of the only things that relieves the tension i feel in my body from all the emotional stress, and I'm trying to get a job. Which I am finding is difficult to do when you are 31yrs old and haven't worked in 5 years. Companies will hire a teenager with no work experience at all but they won't hire a mother that has stayed at home for five years putting her sweat, blood, and tears into her family.  Seems a little backwards to me.

Today is Halloween. We planned on having a little bumble bee this year for Halloween. We don't, and we won't and that makes us very very sad. Neither Carl and I want to go trick or treating but we one of us will for our other two kids sake. It's always so hard to find the balance between wanting to mourn, just allowing ourselves not to celebrate because we don't want to, and also not wanting our other kiddos to feel like the dead baby consumes their lives and keeps them from having any fun.

Other than bringing our little bumble bee back to life what would make me happy is if you helped spread the word about our Molly Bear fundraiser. I wish they didn't make a minimum of 450 being raised in order to get your bear and 9 other bears home sooner but they do. It's just the rewards program that they have set up to offer and to help them raise money. Please spread the word about it and my link as I won't get the credit if the donation isn't made through that link. All the donations go directly to the Molly Bear organization. In other words I don't get the money and then send it to them they get it directly still. It's just the way that they set up their rewards program. So would you help a grieving momma out and share the link, spread the word, or donate 5, 10, 15 or even 20 and maybe we can bring mine and 9 other bears home sooner.

Thanks for all your love and support friends.

Bring home my Molly Bear sooner

3months

Fundraising for Molly Bears

We are fundraising for Molly Bears. Molly Bears is a non profit organization that custom makes weighted teddy bears for families that have suffered an infant loss. On, what would mark Katherine's 3month old anniversary, I wanted to mark the day by making an effort to give to other families suffering the same loss as we are something that will hopefully give their hearts a little comfort.

Currently Molly Bears have a wait time of 9months-1yr. However, if I am able to raise 450 through this fundraiser not only will our teddy bear be bumped up to the next months shipment I will also get the joy of choosing 9 other families bears to be bumped up as well. It will be my goal to choose families that have suffered a loss within the last year and to get them a bear in their arms to help their aching arms.

The anniversary date for Katherine is always a confusing day for me. As we found out that Katherine had died while I was in labor on July 30th...However, she was not delivered until 12:10am on the 31st. So I am always confused as to what day to honor her the most as both days are so important to me.

Yesterday, I had a moment where I was looking at a 3month old picture of my daughter Ellie and for a few seconds I was suprised because I thought it was a long lost picture of Katherine that I had just forgotten. As the seconds clicked by however I realized that I could see this child's eyes (where as I never got to see Katherine's) and I realized that it couldn't be a picture of Katherine because her eyes never opened. For those few seconds though I cherished a bit of life in Katherine, and I was reminded that though she never got to come home she lived so wonderfully in my womb for so many months. It was bitter sweet as I was reminded that I will not have any milestone moment photos of Katherine.

Please consider donating to Molly Bears through our fundraiser. All money goes directly to the organization and is completely safe and secure.

Biopsies and other random thoughts

Well some good news today...the siding on the house is fixed. Wasn't too expensive to get fixed but still expensive enough. Thankfully it seems as though we will have it covered which is a huge blessing. Even with a hurt big toe I also managed to run to the post office and mail the financial aid application I've been working on for months to the hospital, now we just continue to play the waiting game and hope they give us some assistance. This is such a bitter/sweet process because I'm glad that we are finally getting it taken care of  and on a path to pay that bill with a plan; on the other hand though it is hard because we know that if Katherine had lived our family would definitely qualify for assistance but because she did not and we are still, technically, a family of four, we may not qualify for anything.

Yesterday was a painful day for more than one just the biopsy being done on my toe. I had to fill out the questionnaire at the podiatrists office and on it the paperwork asked how many pregnancies how many births. A part of me just wants to ask why the hell does it even matter? Really, the podiatrist knowing how many pregnancies and births I have had makes a difference in how he treats a foot issue? Well that was just the beginning to my emotional pain at the podiatrist office of all places. So it just "so happened" that the receptionist has the same birth day as I do. She said she had noticed it on my paperwork and asked me how my birthday was this year. I politely responded with  "not so good, really terrible actually." She went on to say "MINE TOO!!" she was really a lovely lady but in trying to connect she had know idea the can of worms I was about to open on her...as she was about to tell me how horrible her birthday had been I quietly said "I buried my daughter 4 days before it." and then was the silent "Oh" followed by the "I'm so sorry." and then awkward silence as she realizes my birthday was definitely way worse than hers.

So I made it through the paperwork, and past the receptionist and was now face to face with the doctor's assistant and she goes on and asks the regular questions and of course Katherine's death made it's way into the conversation (not purposely just how things happen at the doctors). She asked how far along I was and I told her full term, went into labor, uterus ruptured, baby died and left it at that. I could tell she felt bad for me. She then shared how her daughter lost her baby at 23weeks but how they went on to adopt and get pregnant again. For whatever reason her rationale went on to explain how here daughter and the babies moved in with her and for 2 months she got no sleep at all and how everyone was saying how much better she looked once the babies were out of the house and she could sleep again.  At this point I wasn't really sure what she was trying to do. Why she thought complaining about the sleepless nights ( when I should be having my own with my baby) would comfort me? Like I should be thankful that I at least get to sleep now? 
I really don't think this was her intention as she was very sweet and I can usually tell when someone is being sincere and when someone is just be careless. After all of that I finally got to see the podiatrist and was thankful that he did not bring up babies with me...lol.

Side crazy thought (please no judgement)...a part of me wants this biopsy to turn up with something negative....Maybe because if it does then I may see losing Katherine as some part of a bigger picture to save my life and still be here for my kiddos and my family. Because maybe if I was completely sleep deprived I wouldn't have worried so much about a stupid spot under my toe nail and wouldn't have gotten it checked out until it was too late.  Does this line of logic then mean I am going to be disappointed if I don't have cancer? In trying to rationalize and make sense of Katherine's death does this mean I will always be searching for something bad to happen so that I will feel like something good will come of Katherine dying?

Today, after resting my toe, I got up to go check on the kids. I opened Zachary's bedroom door just enough to hear  him praying; Ellie was standing there too; there little hands folded, eyes closed, and the two of them praying. On the floor in front of them was one of Ellie's baby dolls.  I gently asked what they were doing. Zachy said "we're playing, the baby, in the grass" and Ellie said "Yeah, but we don't get to keep her. She is in the grave. At a big grave with other people. Safe in the grass. One day we will see her with Jesus." Zachy throws in "Yes, she with Jesus."   I know that playing is one way kids process, in one way it is so good to see them processing. In another way I fear for them, I fear that they will grow up thinking that they won't get to keep any baby that may come into their life. That this experience with Katherine is going to make them fearful of their own possible futures with their own children.

I will admit sometimes the thought of having another baby crosses my mind; only because a part of me is hopeful that the next baby will live and that my kiddos will get to "keep" that child,  that there is hope for them to learn that sometimes bad things just happen but that they don't always happen. Yet my own fear and a list of other things will hold me back for the time being of pursuing another baby.  One being, I"m not so sure that I want to have another baby. Another pregnancy would be very risky for me. Katherine didn't die from a cord accident, her heart just didn't give out unexpectedly under the pressure of labor. She died because my uterus ruptured. My uterus exploded, she came out of the womb, while I was in labor and she died because what baby can live inside the belly without a womb to protect her. Though my uterus was saved the chances of it happening in another pregnancy is just as great. In this moment of time I don't know if my heart could handle saying goodbye permanently to another child.

Just crap

Things have been very overwhelming lately. Daily household tasks ware on my soul and not being able to help my husband emotionally come back to a more stable place leaves me feeling helpless and vulnerable. There is after all only so much one person can do when they are grieving. I am not sure that I have even really had adequate time to grieve; I mean, what with life and everything still keeping on.

The siding on one side of our house is completely off and damage, our homeowners insurance would cover it but we also have a 2500 deductable, we still have one 3000 hospital bill left to pay, and as to this date we have already shelled out about 8000 in medical, and funeral expenses. On top of the housing crap, we had to replace our car battery; I also needed to have a biopsy done on my left toe.  The podiatrist had to remove part of my toe nail to get to the spot (and yes it is as painful as it sounds), and there is a chance that it very well could be cancerous. You know these things wouldn't be as big of a deal if we already weren't surrounded with the heaviness of loosing Katherine. .

I am desperately waiting for some mind blowing goodness to happen. I need some mind blowing goodness to happen.

crickets

There is something  so discouraging about the fact that when you are literally  screaming out for help, calling upon "allies" that said 'if you need anything let me know", and you find the sound of only crickets in response. What a deafening sound it is, and people wonder why I feel so defeated and alone. The truth is, to walk the hard road of suffering with someone is uncomfortable, painful, and awkward but if Christians won't do it then who will?

What does the future hold?

If you had asked me a year ago I would have told you, a baby. I would have said that I would be working with a growing church plant, taking care of my newborn, loving on my two older children, cleaning the house, while my husband went to work and brought home the bacon (so to speak.)  I would be focusing on losing the baby weight, I would be training for a 3k, and I would be taking my 5yr old to school.

Now, year later, we are not in a church plant,  I am sadly not taking care of my newborn because my newborn is dead. I am not focusing on losing the baby weight because I have to focus on mustering up the strength to love and care for my living children while I grieve the loss of my precious Katherine.

A year ago, I would have said that we would go anywhere that the Lord would lead us. That we would do anything that we felt like he was calling us to do. Now that my infant's body is buried 5mins away from me I am not sure that unless God moved in a big, big mighty way, that I would go anywhere anymore? Now instead of dreaming for God to do big things and work in our lives for his glory in big ways, I just stop and say "okay, I think i'm done now....no more please."

Sometimes we think that the good big ways that God moves, taking a family a making them missionaries, taking a man and making him a preacher, are the only big ways that God moves. Little do we ever imagine that a big movement of God that would bring him glory through your life is for your little one to die and for you to have to learn to live all over again.

Right now, in this moment, we have small goals. Goals that include getting out of bed, getting dressed, making breakfast, lunch, dinner. Eating but not trying to escape our pain in the eating. Living just everyday mundane life is our goal.

We are wrestling with our God and it is hard, and it hurts, but in many ways we know that the wrestling is good. I pray that God will strengthen our faith, that we won't come out bitter and angry on the other side. I pray that we will heal and yet a part of us takes comfort in the raw pain because it makes us know that we deeply loved our Katherine. I pray that our other children will grow and be beautiful, God loving, people one day despite our flaws in parenting them. I pray that we will be brave, that we won't attach ourselves more to Katherine's body in a grave so that if the day comes that God moves and has us leave we will, I will, be able to do so.

 What does our future hold now? I honestly have no idea but do any of us really?

What you can do for a grieving momma.

I am not an expert at all on grief. The so called stages of grief often hit me all at once, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, always on the most unexpected days, and at the most unexpected times. Grief is often very very lonely. Even those that may be experiencing a same type of grief as you are experiencing it under different circumstances, at a different time, and in a different way. My grief for Katherine looks different than that of my husband's grief for her just as our grief as parents looks different than that of my children's grief for her. So grief, even though in most cases, is unintentionally isolating and lonely.

There is something about grieving that makes us not want to reach out for help. In my own case it is mostly just because I am afraid. I fear judgment, that people i may reach out to will be like "What really? Come on this is just pathetic?" I also fear that I won't get help and that I will be hurt even more because of all the "Let me know if you need anything." comments one receives in the beginning might just be well meaning comments but nothing truly meant. So grieving becomes even more isolating because those grieving muster up enough strength to just get up in the morning and find that they have little to none left to fight the lies that often penetrate the mind.

11weeks into this grieving process and I have had moments where I have said to myself "I wish someone would just......" Lately I've been thinking about why people "don't" do the things that I wish they would. It hit me that maybe they just don't know what to do. Often when we try to show someone that is walking on a different path than us that we care, we are clumsy. We, and I say we because I can't tell you how many times I have been guilty of saying something dumb and stupid to someone hurting, we fumble around. We don't know what to do so we think "oh this thought gives me comfort I bet it will give them comfort" even though it probably won't. We are clumsy, foolish, and most interestingly enough do not want to make the pain worse. We don't want to be the one that adds to someones grief. We don't want to be remembered as the person that said something so horrific it kept the one grieving from speaking to another soul for months. So we do what we were taught when we were children "If you don't have something nice to say then don't say anything at all." And in trying to avoid causing pain to someone grieving we do the very thing.

So, today, I am going to be brave. I don't have much of a reader audience, and that is okay, but I am still going to be brave. I am going to tell you the things that I wish people would do for me. Some of these things I have had friends do and I selfishly want it done more...lol. Just being honest with you folks. Others are things I have yet to be done but all are things that I find so so comforting. This is my personal list of things that bring me comfort in this time. I can not speak for every grieving momma out there but I know that there are some things on my list other mommas would say "that would be so so nice."  I hope that in my bravery others will learn of what you can do, what you can say that helps at least me. Mostly, I hope that by maybe starting the conversation other brave mommas will be gracious to the fumbling fools that are at least trying and that the same brave mommas will make their own list and be brave enough to share it.

Here's MY list

1.Don't be afraid to talk about my baby Katherine. One of the biggest things a grieving momma wants to know is that her baby mattered. Don't be afraid to mention her name, to tell me how beautiful she was. Yes, there may be tears, You may feel like you are hurting me by bringing her up but really you are blessing my heart. You are reminding me that I didn't just imagine her. You are telling me that she is real. That she matters and that you care. Ask me to see a picture of her. I have them. Even if I showed you once I'd love to show you again. Every momma loves to show off their baby. Speak her name. 

2. Send another card. Just remind me with a physical reminder that you haven't forgotten about me. The card doesn't have to be perfect. It doesn't have to say the right words. It can be a completely blank card where all it says is "I'm still thinking about you, your family, your Katherine. I'm still praying." I'm telling you though it is a welcomed sign in a mailbox compared to the baby offers the retailers keep sending me even though I told them to stop. Or the medical bills that I am just growing tired of paying...lol.

3. Send money. I hate that this is true. It sounds so audacious...."Did she just say that?" Yes, I did. Grief is expensive. From funeral and burial costs, to medical bills, headstone cost (that one shocked us how expensive that was)  to just everyday living. We won't ask you for money. Most people grieving don't. Even now I'm not asking for money. I'm just saying it has helped, anytime we have gotten a gift small or big, it has helped. Grief makes us do stupid and foolish things with our money sometimes. We eat out a lot more than we ever used to. Sometimes just because it is an escape from our house that we long to have Katherine live in. Sometimes it's because we don't have the strength to pick up a pot and pan cook and then do the dishes. Gifts of money help us to not feel guilty for doing things that make us survive, feel better, and that comfort us. We won't ask you for it. We carry the responsibility fully. But grief is expensive. It helps when others have sent us a monetary gift and just said "For whatever you need it to be for."

4. Be specific in an offer. Instead of saying let me know when you want me to watch your kiddos. Say, " I have a slower day next Tuesday. Why don't you bring your kiddos to my house at 10am, drop them off and pick them up at 8. Take the day to yourself and then have a date with your husband in the evening." Or say "How about Thursday night we go get some cheesecake together." Or "Let me pick up your laundry on Wednesday and take it home and do it for you. Please. I can't take your pain away but I can do your laundry for you."  Whatever, it is that you know you can do for them offer it but be specific because I feel enough pressure to just get up and function everyday I don't always have the where with all to scream out "Hey I need you."

5. Give a thoughtful gift. I had a long distance friend send me a card with $10.00 in it saying that she wish she could take me out to lunch but since she couldn't I was to take that $10 and get myself a nice lunch.  I have tears thinking about that gift. It came 2 months after Katherine had passed. Beautiful touching gift. I had another friend give me a e-gift card to the Cheesecake Factory because I love cheesecake and she lived too far away to take me so she found another way. I can't tell you how much those thoughtful gifts have been, were, and are to me. I had a photographer friend take family pictures for us for absolutely no cost because she knew we still needed family pictures even though it would be hard to do without Katherine. Another friend bought us a family pass to the Children's Museum because they knew I would have extra time on my hands and may need a place to take my living children and create more happy memories.  Take the time and think of a thoughtful gift and give it.

6. Hugs. Just Hugs. Just say to someone grieving. "I may not be able to do much else for you but I can give you a hug." Unless of course they don't like hugs, some people don't. So maybe ask before hugging?

7. Call me. I may not return your call. I may not answer your call. I may not want to talk but just call me anyway and leave me a message saying that you love me.

8. Listen, just listen. We aren't expecting you to say something that will magically wipe our pain away. We know that there is little you can say that will make us feel comforted. Just listen. Listen to whatever dumb, foolish, painful, thing may come out of our mouths. Then if you feel like you need to say something let it be. "I'm so so saddened that you are going through this. It breaks my heart. I have no words except I love you. I'm praying."

9. Be brave. Attend a remembrance ceremony if we have one and you are able to. Say hello in the grocery store even if you have no clue what else to talk about. Invite us into your life so we will feel like you are opened to walking into our messy life. Be brave. Just be brave. It takes a brave soul to walk the path with a hurt soul. Because we are human, we say foolish dumb things at times, but be brave. pray that God will give you wisdom and insight where you may have none. Just be brave and I promise I will be gracious to you.

10. Do it all again. So you've done at least one of these things at least once. Do it again? Do it in another month. Pick a new thing you haven't done and do that. Grief is a never ending process. Trust me. I won't ever think "Oh i wish they would just stop loving me."

Lastly, a word to those of us grieving. Be gracious to others in the same way you hope that they will be gracious to you. We are all awkward, fumbling, sinful human beings, some things will rightfully make us upset and other things we just need to step back and say "Okay...they at least tried." There is no magical formula for our grief, in the same way we must be kind and gentle with ourselves, we must try to do the same with the things other people try to do or say to us. It's hard. Trust me I know. I've had some pretty dumb things said to me that just rubbed me the wrong way and that I needed to vent about later. It's okay. You are not overly sensitive, you are not crazy for feeling a certain way but most that have not walked this same road are just clumsily trying...but they are at least trying. Also be brave, others that have not walked the path can not learn and grow to be better comforters if we are not brave enough to teach them. It's hard. It sucks. Especially since most of us are not in a place to be "the mature one" so to speak. So take your time but work to be brave and not afraid to tell others what you need even though it is hard. Even though few to none may respond to your call of action....but be brave anyways.  That is one of the hardest, suckiest things about this path we must walk on, it calls for bravery in ways that we never thought we could do and in our own strength sometimes can't.  So even if you can't come up with a list of your own of things people could do for you...be brave and maybe post anothers list?

Lots of love to all you grieving mommas out there. I know. I get it. Sending a big "Knowing" hug.

And to all of you that aren't grieving lots of love to you. Thank you for being brave as well. For at least trying.

Once again a beautiful photo from Rebecca Laurel Photography.

Heartache, Heartbreak. October 15th National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Rembrance Day

Today, October 15th, is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss remembrance day. At 7pm, in all time zones, people are encouraged to light a candle in remembrance of all the little lives gone too soon. Today, also happens to mark 11weeks since I went into labor and lost Katherine Joy.

Every week that has gone by has been challenging in and of itself. Every week that comes brings with it a new week of questions, heartache, heartbreak, and grief. Yet at the same time every week that comes also brings with it a new week full of the Lord's mercy and grace.

This past Saturday we participated in our first remembrance walk hosted by St. Francis Hospital. The hospital that I gave birth to Katherine at. There were so many emotions of that day. I felt overwhelmed looking around me seeing many families that have experienced the loss of a child. Some through miscarriage, some in still birth, but all in tragedy. I do not think I would ever find a single story of miscarriage that the mother that experienced it was not greatly affected by it in some way. As I looked around me and wondered what the stories were behind each families loss it hit me that they ALL had stories. Some were just weeks along, others were close to full term, others like me full term. Some were life threatening like mine, others didn't know something was wrong until they heard the words "There is no heartbeat." Some of us had other living children, others I could tell had lost their first and so far only child.  So many tears, but all of us knowing that we all had a baby in heaven.

Last night, I dreamt of that terrible day and night I was in labor with Katherine, it felt more like reliving it. Then when it seemed like my mind was done dreaming of that night I was dreaming about my other children dying and I unable to save them. It was a horrible, sleepless night.

Today, I have cried many tears for Katherine, I have also managed to yell at my husband, my other living children, and myself. Yes, I have days when I do not do this grief thing very well. I have days where I am frustrated and angry because I just want to grieve, I don't want to do anything else, but I also don't have a choice. If I take the time to grieve then it feels like I am not caring for my children, household ect...so most days I just push through the grief and I have moments like this where the thought "don't we all just push through our grief" hits me like a ton of bricks.

The world has not stopped turning, my children (all but Katherine) have not stopped growing, my husband hasn't stopped breathing, they all need me. I am thankful that they need me but some days I wish I could just sit and grieve and not have to do anything else...those days do not come very often.

I am looking forward to tonight. I am praying that others will gather with us and remember all the little lives gone to soon, that we will remember their families and pray for them, that we will take the time to grieve because it's okay. It's okay to grieve. It's okay.

Thank you Rebecca Laurel Photography for the photo.

These two  pictures my husband Carl took.

This past week was a very emotionally difficult week for me. Many days my grief was so overwhelming I could hardly breathe.  As a mother that has lost a child I can tell you that there is something so not right about having to bury your "baby" no matter what age they are when you have to say goodbye to them in this life permanently.  Just as an older mother feels the void and the emptiness of where her 3, 12, 22, or 62yr old used to be the younger mother of a baby feels the void and emptiness of where her 0yr old should have been. It is an ache, and emptiness, like no other. As a parent you never imagine having to bury your child, and if you do imagine it you quickly push it aside because even as a thought it is incomprehensible. Then when you find yourself literally living in the nightmare you are left to wander if the nightmare will never end and are overwhelmed by the thought that it doesn't. Yes, one gets used to living the nightmare and eventually the good dreams slowly reemerge again but the reality that your child is dead is a reality that never leaves you.

This summer I have had to endure the births of about 12healthy babies around me. While in no way, shape or form, do I ever wish those babies had not been born living and healthy, the births have left me feeling like a complete failure. As irrational as it may be it is how I feel and as my therapist puts it our feelings our often not logical but they still need to be dealt with. Anyways, there is something about reading all the "Way to go girl." and the "Congratulations!" on others Facebook walls throughout these last 8weeks since Katherines death and also the good 6 weeks prior to it. That has made my mind have to fight the questions of "Did I somehow not do a good job at the whole laboring thing because my baby died?" "Do I not deserve to be celebrated because my baby died?" The day after Katherine's birth I recieved no balloons, no gifts, no job well done...and maybe rightfully. I mean, my baby did just die, I did not create a living baby out side of my womb, death is not usually something that is celebrated. I am sure had I been given any "congratulations" and "way to go" it would have come more across as "Congratulations your babies dead!!!"   and we all know that that would not have been good for me.

I suppose this is just one more token to add to my grief, that instead of being made to feel like this extraordinary being that God created me to be and celebrating the design of the female body, I get to struggle and wrestle with the issue that my body must not be so extraordinary after all. While I know that this probably isn't true it is how all these births make me feel especially as I see all these other mommas being celebrated and doted on; and well for the most part people have stayed away from me as if I have some disease.

Saturday was an extremely hard day for me. One of my closest friends gave birth to a beautiful healthy baby girl. I was so relieved that she had such a safe and healthy delivery because as a mother that has now experienced the death of her baby I would never wish that experience on anyone. Yet, at the same time I was so overwhelmed by my grief, "Why couldn't I have that same happiness? That same Joy? Why couldn't I get to have the baby snuggles, the breastfeeding pains and joys, changing diapers? Why did all I get instead was extremely engorged, painful breasts, that I had to 'wait it out' for it to go away? Why instead of holding my baby a week after her birth did I have to close the lid on a tiny casket and drive away from a grave?"

Yesterday, in church, we sang the song Oceans the lyrics are as followed

"You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown where feet may fail
And there I find You in the mystery
In oceans deep
My faith will stand

And I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

Your grace abounds in deepest waters
Your sovereign hand
Will be my guide
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You've never failed and You won't start now

So I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger
In the presence of my Savior

I will call upon Your name
Keep my eyes above the waves
My soul will rest in Your embrace
I am Yours and You are mine"


This is such a beautiful song, and as the congregation sang it I sunk into my seat, burying my face in my arms and hands, crying, praying...and all while saying "but I don't want a deeper faith I just want my baby. Please don't leave me here Lord."

So today in the midst of the waves, the hardship, the darkness, the questions

"I will call upon Your name
Keep my eyes above the waves
My soul will rest in Your embrace
I am Yours and You are mine"

A roller coaster ride....

The thing with grief is that it is unpredictable...much like a roller coaster ride. Even though you can see it from a distance you don't really know what the ride is going to feel like until you ride it. Grieving a child is very much the same. Grief over anyone close to us is like a roller coaster ride....you observe it from a distance but until you ride it you won't know what it feels like.

Those that know me well know that when my grandmother passed away it was a life changing event for me and my family. She was my everything at that time in my life, she was a friend, mother, caregiver, provider, all encompassing to me. Her death was not a surprise though, we knew it was coming, it was a long drawn out goodbye and it was still very very hard.

Katherine's death was surprising, one gets past the 15week mark in a pregnancy and we all breath a sigh of relief and go "phew, now I just wait." But what this very sad tragic event has taught me more than ever is that there is no "safe mark". That if we only make it to such and such we'll be good. We are not guaranteed that even the children we have that make it to birth and beyond will be here tomorrow. Katherine's death was not expected, it was sudden, I literally had just seen her on the ultrasound 2days before her death...2days..and in 2days she had died..

The long drawn out goodbye was hard, the tragic sudden death was equally as hard.

The biggest difference other than my first experience with death was my grandmother and not my child is I wasn't fully allowed to grieve my grandmother's loss.

My father was a single parent, and the one person that was helping raise his children had just died on him, he didn't know how to comfort the grieving children that had just lost their friend, caregiver, provider, and that did all the things a mother should do for her children. So he did what he knew to do, which was to push us on, I wasn't allowed to cry about it in his presence after the first week of the funeral. We returned to school right away, and when the school tried to get us grief counseling he canceled it after just 3 sessions. Now this is in no way a criticism of my father. He did the best he could and much of his pushing us out of our grief was that he just couldn't bare it all. I see that now.

However, as a result, I was taught to not fully grieve. to just try to move on as quickly as possible. I noticed this mindset vividly in the week after Katherine's funeral when I found myself reverting back to what I was taught. So I determined to do something different this time and allow myself to grieve. I am in therapy, I allow my kids to cry and talk about Katherine whenever they want to. I allow my husband to be angry and I allow myself to  cry and be angry too if need.

I think I have been very surprised at this roller coaster of grief. How quickly one minute I feel at peacem restful, fully trusting in my God and his sovereignty, relaxing in HIS grace and presence then in the next minute I am completely upside down in turmoil all over again. Grief, unlike the roller coasters at the amusement park, is unending. It's like a roller coaster you never get off but with time you get used to the twists and turns and grow numb. Every now and then, however, it feels like you are stepping back onto that ride for the first time and you have to grow numb all over again.

Right now, I am on an angry part of the roller coaster. I am angry that when I as in labor and saying that something was wrong nobody, and I mean nobody, believed me. I'm angry at myself for buying into the hype of vaginal delivery being the most and the best emotional and physically satisfying way to give birth. I'm angry that I didn't know that .05% chance of uterine rupture for a vbac translated into 1 in 200 for an average size baby and 4 in 200 for a bigger baby. Had the facts been presented to me in that way I wouldn't have "risked it." I am angry at God. I am ashamed to admit that fact, I always thought of myself more highly than i should and so I thought oh I would never be angry at God "he gives and takes away." blah blah blah...but I'm angry. I'm angry because I feel like I deserved better than this and I know how incredibly arrogant it is to say that. I know that i don't deserve anything from God that he does not owe me anything and in my pride I feel like he does and so I'm angry that he let this happen to me instead of picking out someone else to be that 1 in 200.

I am not proud of these above thoughts, so be gentle with me. I only share these because I want people to see that I am no saint, I struggle just as much as the next person does and that the only good anyone sees in me is all because of Christ and really not any of me at all.

So today if you want to pray for me. You can pray that though I'll never get off the roller coaster of grief, you can pray that I will make peace with it. Pray that I will continue to cling to Jesus even when I don't want to, and pray that I will recognize that even when I let go of him he is still clinging to me.

In this exact moment I am humbled by the thought that even though God knows that I am angry with him he is still clinging and loving on me which is a very overwhelming and powerful thought...what a merciful God I serve.

 I told you grief is a roller coaster.  ;-)

One favorite picture of mine...

This is one of the few color pictures that I have of my precious Katherine Joy. This picture also happens to be my favorite one of her. It is not a professional photo. It was taken with a handheld digital camera by my doula (a birth assistant.)  I love this picture of Katherine for several reasons:

  1. Her body is still quite pink. Looking at this picture reminds me that she was actually alive at some point in my womb. That reality comforts me as I know that I didn't just imagine her.

2. She is so beautiful even in her very "raw" form. Her little nose. Her sweet lips, her hair, ears, eyebrows....I mean looks at those chunky little arms of hers. Oh how preciously beautiful she is.

3. I am told that she was still quite warm in this picture. I was still having my own life saved in surgery. So I have no memories of holding a warm baby. I will always be jealous of my husband that got to give Katherine her first and only bath as well as got to be the one to hold her for the first time. I suppose though that this is only fitting as I will ever be the only one to have carried a living baby in my womb for 9months.

This past week in therapy our therapist gave us a homework assignment. He wants us all to write a letter to Katherine of the things we would tell her if she was here...a goodbye letter of sorts as well. Not that we won't ever remember her ect...but there is so much we would have loved to have said to her. I am dreading this assignment. I'm not sure how I can do it, thankfully my therapist is a very patient man. I don't ever want to say goodbye to my precious Katherine. Yet, I know that I must. Not that I will ever forget her, and she will always be carried with me in my heart,  but i know that as her momma I need to tell her the things I wanted to say to her when she was born. I need to say the things that I wanted to say at her funeral but just didn't have the strength to do.

On another note

Today I saw a baby girl at the store about the size Katherine was when Katherine was born...I immediately cried. I got a few stares as I was trying my best to hold everything back. It's hard to go shopping. I purposely don't like to buy the milk, and I try to stay away from the yogurt area at our local store as both items are right next to the baby section. There is also one particular store that I don't like to go shopping at all at anymore as it was the last place (other than the doctor's office) that I went to while I was still pregnant with Katherine. I have flashbacks whenever I go to that store and I find that I am just too exhausted from them afterwards.

I hope that maybe someday I can look at a baby girl and not completely melt down afterwards.

Black and White

Fall used to be my favorite time of year. I say "used to be" because I am not so sure that it is anymore. In fact I'm not so sure I have any type of "favorites" anymore.  The idea of a favorite season, favorite color, favorite book, or a favorite movie seems so pointless. I suppose that is what grief can do to a person though...I had a friend put it into words for me, she said "grief is like seeing everything in black and white." She's pretty accurate about that description.

Have you ever watched a black and white movie? While the story line and plot may be riveting and compelling there is something to adding color to the movie that makes the movie come alive to the viewers in a whole new way. Grief feels like a black and white movie to me right now. Life is still compelling and riveting, it still has all the wonderful makings of a beautifully interwoven plot, yet every moment is lacking the brightness of colors that make the moments come more to life. While I enjoy spending time with my kids, family, and friends I've noticed that the overwhelming brightness of those moments that I used to feel are gone. That doesn't mean that I am still not incredibly thankful for those gifts it's just means that the color that was so easily seen before only comes in glimpses for me right now.

Everyday I have to fight the battle to try to find the "colored" glasses...because the color is so so so very good. However, at the same time, I am also in a place where I need to embrace the black and white because the story line is still so very compelling, and beautiful, even if all the pretty colors of the dresses and the flowers don't come shining through.

I pray that one day I'll be able to experience again more fully the colored glasses of life. However, right now, I am simply just learning to embrace the black and white and enjoy the picture that is right before me. Maybe that might just be the first step in finding those colored glasses again.