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. 

Thanksgiving. A Life Of Thanks

Thanksgiving is right around the corner. You know, like TOMORROW! And it's snowing like crazy as if it's January. Kids are enjoying a morning of watching t.v. and laying in pajamas. While I, still in pajamas myself am typing away, doing grown up stuff.

I've enjoyed reading the thankful posts this last month. I love to see the joy in others hearts on Facebook for their friends, family, and anything else they have to be thankful for this month. I did somewhat participate in this 30 days of thankfulness last year, but kinda fell away from it mid month. Life gets busy and I lose track of the little things these days. And in the past I was generally a negative Nelly. So thankfulness was not really on my radar until recently.

I attended a women's retreat in October, that I really had no desire to attend, but got roped into anyway. I decided about a week before I needed to change my attitude and find a way to enjoy myself, and find a new perspective. I had never enjoyed them, and the last one I attended, two years ago, during the worst time of my life, was almost my last of everything. 

I will be open and honest.Two years ago, It was nearly my "due date" for Andrew. I was in so much emotional pain, and a gripping depression that I began to think the only way out of the pain was to end my own life. Yes this is shocking, brutally honest, and clearly I made it through the loss. Losing a child, is never easy. There is not one thing that can make the loss better, while in the middle of so many emotions. But THANKFULLY I made it through. 

Backtracking to this retreat last month. I went with a new attitude, determined to find something better about this retreat. I had this new desire in my life. A desire to find joy and peace in my life again. Only now a real joy that I knew only God could give. And I did. I went back to the same bench I had sat at two years ago, pouring my heart out to a God I didn't understand anymore. Only this time I was able to thank Him. Thank Him for the last two, hardest of my life ever, years. Thank Him for the short time I had carried my son, in my womb. Thank Him for the even shorter time we were able to see and hold him. Thank Him for the women in my life, and our church who had ministered to, and loved me, holding me up when I couldn't keep it together. 

You see I had no idea what this weekend was about, I had no idea that when I walked into the large meeting room late, (because I got lost in the dark, In the middle of Nowhere, Michigan!) that there would be a banner hanging above the fire place that spelled out the words E U C H A R I S T E O. Eucharisteo. It's Greek meaning has more than one word to describe it, Joy, Peace, and Thanksgiving. This weekend had God's work written all over it. We received a gift as part of attending the retreat, titled  1000 Gifts- by Ann Voskamp. I dove into this book almost right away before even getting home. I didn't know exactly what it was about, but knew it was calling me to read. This book is a challenge, a call to see, and be thankful in everything.  The challenge was taken, would I be able to Thank God in every part of my life? Was I thankful in the hard stuff? The easy stuff is obvious. But what about when a high fever causes a kid to puke all over the place? Or when there is more month at the end of the paycheck? Or when one child throws a huge tantrum over a broken toy? Broken washing machine? And think about it, WHY would I want to thank Him for the loss of my baby? The list goes on, but a life of thankfulness is part of finding peace and joy. Because God is in the little stuff. Even the hard stuff. Because giving thanks is an everyday opportunity, to grow closer to Him. Why am I now thankful for the loss? Because it has given me more compassion for other moms. Because now, that I have come to the end of myself, and begun this daily thanking, God can really begin a work in me. 

 I'm thankful in the little stuff of the day, that seems frustrating at times. I'm thankful for a great husband, who is amazing to our 4 kids. I'm thankful for these amazing 4 kids, that almost always find a way to make my day interesting. Thankful for the gift of writing and photography I had long forgotten about. Thankful for a cluttered house, dirty dishes piled in the sink, dirty laundry all over the place, clean laundry that still needs put away, marker all over a three year old's face and legs, paper scraps, a dirty car that never really seems to get clean. Thankful for that broken washer, piles of bills that will one day be all paid off, time with my kids, a needy annoying dog that brings joy to my kids faces, my fears, and tears shed over feeling I may fail one or more of my kids in this home school journey. Thankful for crabby children, for fresh snow on the ground covering leaves that never got totally raked up still in piles. And in this, thankfulness I can see God 's hand all over my life. And I begin my list, of thanks. Not just a month of thanks but a life of thanks. I am challenged by the author. My goal is to write my own 1000 gifts of thanks to my God. So far I am up to 78... Hopefully this next year will have a 1000 opportunities for Eucharisteo. Joy, Peace, Thanksgiving.

she's her own art canvas

cutting practice, think she got it as she cut her own hair

at ER with 104degree fever

pizza at the beach-family time

Ella enjoying reading! Giving up t.v. to read for fun!

Trusting God in the midst of infertility

For most of us women we remember where we were, what we were wearing, and who we shared the news with when we first found out we were expecting. For women who have faced infertility, we also remember exactly how long we waited to get that news. It feels almost like the stars have finally aligned and someone waved a "magic" wand reciting abra cadabra and suddenly you're pregnant! Not that I believe that, but there is a moment that feels magical.  We can also remember how much we had to place our trust in God for this miracle we worried may never come.

For me the "magic" number has been Two. Two long years we waited for Sam. Two more long years we waited for Sarah. And now it's been two years since we lost Andrew.

I remember praying and telling God that if we were only meant to have the two children we already had, that I would be content with that. It wasn't easy. I remember all the tears, crying, and laying my heart before a God I wasn't even sure heard me. Just a few weeks later I found out I was pregnant with Sam. His name has special meaning because it means "asked of God." I had just given away the crib. I had moved on.

Again when we decided to try for a fourth child, another girl, we had no idea what we would go through and that it would be another two years of waiting. We were finally told we probably wouldn't achieve pregnancy without a fertility specialist.  Two months later I sat in an exam room, dreading more bad news only to be told I was actually pregnant. I nearly fell out of my chair! I very well might have if the doctor hadn't given me a big hug! I had just given nearly every baby gear item I owned away! We had prayed and left it in God's hands.

After Sarah was born we were adamant that we were done. No more babies. It was just too hard waiting and trying for these babies. As the date approached for K to go to the urologist and have an initial appointment for the big V, I began to feel so much conviction. I felt God pressing on my heart. How could we as a couple who begged, prayed, pleaded, and above all trusted Him for our babies suddenly decide that we were going to take matters into our own hands and cut off the ability to have more children?

If He was really our God, and we put all our trust in Him, what gave us the right to take control of the one thing we'd learned we were never really in control of to begin with? So with that we decided the big V wouldn't happen. We decided we would trust Him for our family size. We were so confident that there probably wouldn't be anymore children. After two trips through the land of infertility that lasted two years each time, I wasn't completely convinced we'd have more. I wanted to believe God had healed me from this painful area of my life, and I chose to act as if I'd been healed. I also made it my mission to share the miracle God had done for us.

When we found out I was pregnant with Andrew, I then fully believed God had healed me and we would most likely have babies more often, and closer together now. I was preparing my heart for being a stay at home, homeschooling mom that drives a minivan, then a suburban, then maybe a 10 passenger van. When we lost him, I was confused, hurt, angry. I didn't understand what God was doing? We had placed our trust in Him for our family size! Losing Andrew was not part of the plan!

The last few weeks, I have been in a sort of countdown. Andrews birthday, and the two year mark has been barreling towards me like a freight train out of control. I can't stop it, and I can't avoid it. June 2nd will come, and there's not one thing I can do about it.

I'm now at a crossroads. We already know we will never do anything permanent to control our family size. But, it's been two years. One part of me wants to get rid of all my baby gear and move on with life. The other part of me wants to save every last thing because I'm so afraid I will then get pregnant after I get rid of it all. It's happened twice before, why wouldn't it happen again? I'm not holding my breath by any means. But if I get rid of it all I will then be faced with the anxiety provoking task of obtaining more stuff in order to be prepared if we do get pregnant. Or do I hold onto it until I know for sure there will never be anymore babies, and it's all rendered virtually useless by any decent, fashion forward mama? I actually tried to start going through stuff in order to get rid of it. I chickened out. It might be a longer process than I realized. Right now, I have managed to loan out my swing, and am searching for the breast pump to loan to another mom. Baby steps are in order at this point.

The biggest thing I am learning in this journey is that when I placed my trust in God each time, for my babies, I was trusting Him to know what's best for us as a family. He knows when and how many babies He wants us to have. He already knows how He wants our family to look like. Just because we are trusting Him to be in control of our family size doesn't mean we will be able to have all the children we want. It means learning to be content with where we are in this parenting journey and looking objectively at our current family size, realizing there are always reasons God says "No", or even "Wait," (We are seriously busy people right now!) I am learning that how many children we have is not as important as trusting Him to be Lord of our life. Every aspect of it.

My four amazing gifts from God

My love affair with running... And how it saved me

When I was a teenager I loved to run. I didn't play sports, but found a lot of peace in running. It seemed to help me run away from my troubles when I really couldn't run away.

 Nearly three years ago I ran my first 5k. I had just delivered our 4th child three months earlier. After nine months of no running, I couldn't wait to get back to the gym. So when Sarah was only four weeks old I bravely got back to the gym and began running again. I'm pretty sure I was supposed to wait until I was released by my Dr. But I just couldn't stand the wait any longer.

 I'd had an on again off again love affair with running for most of my life. It seemed to be mostly off again due to either trying to get pregnant, or actually being pregnant. After Sarah was born I felt pretty confident that I wasn't ever having anymore children so my love affair with running could be rekindled. 

The 5k went better than I expected. A friend of mine joined me and was such a great cheerleader, cheering me on as I ran ahead of her. (She's a keeper!) My time wasn't too bad. I think it was under forty minutes, and the last mile was on the beach. Running and I had just reconnected in a whole new way! 

Not too long after that school started. No more races for me during school. There was no time. The kids had school and sports and I did have that amazing little one to take care of. Fast forward to March of that year. I was running outdoors again since it was warming up. I was training myself for the next round of races coming up in the spring/summer.

However I had to stop because I had just found out I was pregnant again. I had never gotten pregnant while still nursing a baby. I was in shock but happy. A little bummed about no running, but it would be worth it.

When we lost Andrew just barely a few months later, I was lost. I had all these emotions, and no idea how to handle it all. So again, once I was released by my Dr I began running to help relieve all the pain of this loss. It seemed to be the only thing that helped. The last two years I've used running as a form of therapy. I had developed such an extreme amount of anxiety and panic that running was the only thing I knew to do that would relieve the symptoms when they arose. I often found myself running and walking as often as I possibly could. I also began seeing a therapist to help me understand all the emotions, and grief I was experiencing.

In the last two years, we have had some life changes. Mostly for the better, but they have affected my running affair. Not long before my original due date with Andrew, I left my job I loved, in a Kindergarten classroom. I became a stay at home mom again, with occasionally substitute teaching at my kids' school. Ken started a new job that requires an hour commute every day, but allows him to be home more. And in August we began our home school journey, which was intended for the three oldest kids and ended up schooling all four. We also began attending a Friday homeschool co-op. That's a lot in less than two years. 

But since August I have been so engrossed in school, that I have neglected my relationship with my running shoes. Don't get me wrong, I would run all day every day if I could! But I felt guilty for taking time for myself to run, when I felt all the pressures of wife, mom, and teacher. I began chugging nearly a pot of coffee daily, and rarely made it to the gym. We had a rough winter of sickness which made it difficult to get to the gym. And it seemed like every time I got back to running, one or more of us ended up sick again! I also gained some weight back that I'd lost in the last year. By February I was frustrated and had to find a way back to the gym and my beloved treadmills. Well my prayers were answered! I discovered that the gym down in Long Beach had been taken over by our local YMCA. I had a better chance of getting there than twenty minutes away at the larger facility!

I laced up my shoes and got back to it! I started back with my C25K app on my iphone. Thankfully I didn't have to start back at the beginning. It's been rough, but I felt somewhat ready for the upcoming 5K in our community. A week before the race I got sick with a nasty cold. I thought for sure I wasnt going to be able to participate, but kept running as much as possible with a hacking cough. By the Friday before I felt well enough to at least give it a try. I also managed to talk Matt into running with me. I had no idea he would pass me up and finish a whole five minutes sooner than me! That didn't help my ego much! If anything it only caused me to want to run more and beat his time.

We're nearing the second anniversary of Andrews death. All this time I've ran to relieve the pain of our loss. But things are changing. I'm healing. The anxiety and panic attacks are mostly all gone. I can now be in large crowds without worry that I will have an all out panic attack for the whole world to see. I'm getting better and stronger with my running. I don't seem to need to run for therapy as much anymore. I'm actually beginning to enjpy it as a regular part of life and exercise. Running saved me from a longer healing, or worse. It has been a more positive form of coping than I ever imagined. 

 The best part is that my family wants to join in on this activity. Sam ran nearly a mile and a half during our last family walk. Now he wants to run a marathon with me! I'm just hoping to be able to run a half marathon and survive! I'm also secretly hoping this love affair will rub off on my family! 

My first 5K with my cheerleader and friend Melissa

My second race, with a new running partner Matt

Mom of the year

Last Wednesday was an unexpected bad Andrew day. Two days before I put on my big girl undies and put the last bag of baby toys out in the garage. Sarah hadn't played with them in over a year! The next day I held my friends baby girl and rocked her to sleep. Holding babies doesn't bother me anymore, so now I actually enjoy it! Well I woke up Wednesday morning and realized I was an emotional wreck. I felt like I'd gone backwards by months. After all the emotional progress I've made it often frustrates me when I have these days. I know its normal, and these days will come, but its still hard. Some days I have faith that we'll have more children, and other days I tell myself that I will be so very happy if I never have to wipe a dirty bottom again! Wednesday was a day I felt the latter.

All day I was grumpy, emotional, out of sorts, and annoyed by all four kids and their sinful natures. I was beginning to feel like I was failing in my role as a mom and teacher. Not one of them wanted to cooperate with any of my requests. I heard "no" so many times that my head hurt and I was getting angry. For a brief moment I started daydreaming about sending them back to school. Who in their right mind would want any more children when these four were being so difficult?!

We headed to gymnastics and I was desperate for a few minutes of peace and quiet. I sent all the kids in while I sat in the van to make a phone call to my Momma Judy. My step aunt answered the phone since Judy was driving. I never really knew Aunt Betty as I was growing up but since I joined Facebook I have re-connected with her. What she said to me was much needed medicine for the day. She wanted me to know that she watches what I put on Facebook and she just wanted me to know that she thinks I'm "AMAZING!" I don't really remember much of what else she said, but I do know it had to do with my parenting. This was truly God using her because since losing Andrew I have heard that exact word over and over again.

I've spent my entire life trying to prove to the world that I am nothing like my mother was. I wanted to prove to the whole world that I am not Audrey, but my own person. I also wanted to be a better mom than she was able to be. I wanted to get it right the first time. And I didn't want to be judged harshly for making mistakes. Wednesday I felt like I was failing and God reminded me that I was doing okay after all.

Later in the day Ella came to me and gave me an early Mother's Day gift. It was a little bear that had writing on it "mom of the year". After all my mixed emotions that day it was another gift from God reminding me all my hard work is not going unnoticed.

I've been telling my therapist for nearly a year that there must be something wrong with me to want a large family. I was secretly worried she'd be brutally honest and tell me I had some major mental defect and surely I was a lost cause. Well thankfully she's not that brutal! Maybe I'm working towards mom of the year? Maybe I really am amazing?