Balloons for Heaven

I can't believe it's been three years. Some days the pain feels like yesterday, and other times, like a hundred years ago. No matter what, June 2nd comes around once a year whether I want it to or not. Today like every June 2nd we hauled ourselves up a hill at the beach to send balloons to Heaven for Andrew. Said a silent happy birthday, blow a kiss, whisper I love you. Let the balloons go, because really you can't send regular gifts to Heaven. And then went for ice cream. After all ice cream is an important part of any birthday. 

I once heard that someone didn't think it was healthy for us to spend a day remembering him. I balk because really this day isn't any different than any of our other children's birthdays, other than his birthday is in Heaven. Sadly we still live in a society that thinks cherishing and openly sharing a child's death is taboo. Don't talk about it because it makes people uncomfortable. It's just plain weird. And really the problem is society. Sorry people but the 1950's were over a long time ago. 

Honestly I don't talk about Andrew or celebrate his birthday for anyone but us. 

When people ask how many children I have, how should I answer? Is my child who died less important than the ones who are still alive? Is he any less Important because he never breathed outside my body? 

Those balloons are for Heaven. They are for Andrew. They are for us as a family. And really any good mom would do the same. 

When your joy hurts others

Well I did it. I shared our exciting news. All. Over. Facebook. Except I forgot one thing. I have other friends who have also been struggling through the land of infertility. I have the worst case of pregnancy brain this time around. And in my excitement to share that we finally have a healthy pregnancy after a very long three years, I posted the picture of my first ultrasound. I forgot about my other friends. I forgot to be sensitive to their pain. I didn't truly forget them, but I do feel like I may have handled it a little less than sensitively. 

The problem is that there are times when your own personal joy becomes someone else's pain. I've lived it so I understand first hand. Someone else who is expecting is so excited. And all you can do is cry and ask God why? Sure you're happy for her, but the pain is still very strong. And as much as you want to rejoice for that person, you can't help but let hurt and bitterness swallow you whole. There have been many years in between my children that I've gone through this. The emotions became an all too familiar roller coaster. You begin avoiding baby showers, go out of your way to avoid walking by a pregnant person. You avoid new babies, discussing pregnancy experiences, if you've had any. Avoid helping in the nursery at church, and eventually your friends who are lavishing in the world of all things babyhood. It's a rough road to walk. But those of us who have walked it are not alone. It hurts. And sometimes it seems like you are the only person in the world walking this painful journey. And even when we are not alone, and have friends who are also trudging through the emotional land of infertility it still feels like the loneliest place in the world. 

The point is your pregnancy joy does hurt others. It's not anything you've done personally. But it does happen. And sometimes even worse happens, you lose friends over it. And that's the hardest part.  Hard because it hurts you too. Hard because you can't fix it. You  can't magically make their pain go away. You can't wave a wand, and voila she's pregnant too. You can't say anything to make it all better. And you can't make her maintain a friendship she's not able to at this point in the game. But you CAN pray for her and ask God to bless her with the desires of her heart. You CAN find a way to bless her. You CAN give her the space she needs and be ready to welcome her back into the friendship with open arms when she's ready. And God will bless you with more joy and peace than you expected. 

Life after pregnancy loss

It's been nearly a year since my last post. Not that I haven't wanted to write, but because I just haven't had much to say. Life has been full of ups and downs. The kids keep the hood of my van warm enough to keep chickens warm all winter. The whole country knows this has been a rough winter! My hair isn't turning too gray, too fast. And other than school with the kids, I've been training for a half marathon in August.

It's also been nearly three years since we lost Andrew. And while it's been a very long, hard road, I've seen God's hand in my life more times than I can count. Nearly every day I see healing in one fashion or another. I used to think that only when we were able to have another baby, would we then see real healing. I have learned that real healing begins when real living continues.

I had decided to start this spring off with a cold March race. Matt as usual joined me and left me at the starting line, running off like running is so easy for him. I personally am quite jealous of his running abilities.
He placed, I did not. It was cold, and we were running the outer edge of a still mostly frozen lake, up and down some hills, on a course I'd never run before. I was determined to do my best, and hopefully beat my treadmill time. And I was very grateful I had not started my period in the days before the race.

A few days later I learned that I am pregnant. Nearly three years, and I suddenly can't fit into my pants, and then I graciously throw up in front of a parent and her child from my tumbling class I teach. Surprise! Thankfully she's currently expecting, so no biggie! My mind has been racing all week. How will this pregnancy and new baby affect our everyday life? I haven't had a child in diapers for two years! We don't really have room in our house, do we? Will this baby make it? Do my breasts still hurt? Am I nauseated or just hungry? Or both? Do I share now, or wait until I'm at the twelve week mark? So in true blogger fashion, I will chronicle this pregnancy.

You see life, and a new pregnancy after a pregnancy loss, or still birth is not a life goes on as usual deal. There are more fears, worries, and prayers after a loss. But there is also joy, and thankfulness. And I couldn't help but thank God for allowing us an opportunity to even conceive another baby.

This week I had been debating, do I tell the whole world, or wait until it's safe? I've decided to lean towards caution a bit and only share with a few people. Don't get me wrong, I want to shout it from the rooftop what God has done for us. But I also want to just quietly enjoy this time. Most people want to share right away, while others choose the wait and see approach, knowing things could go wrong. Well knowing all to well that things can go wrong at anytime in a pregnancy, here is my thought. I want to celebrate this life growing in my belly no matter what stage of pregnancy or birth we get to. I want to rest in knowing that my Heavenly Father knows how to take care of this baby better than me, and no matter the outcome, I can rejoice that He even blessed us with another pregnancy.  Every child whether born full term, or lost in miscarriage deserves to be celebrated.