a new nephew to love

We are so excited that baby Gabriel is here! After a long night, he came at 8.52am yesterday...the exact same time as his sister Sophia. A meaningful time. My sister-in-law and baby are doing well. They're testing Gabe for group b strep today, and if all is good, he won't need antibiotics and they'll likely go home tomorrow!

After Sophia died at three weeks from meningitis caused by GBS - and doctors don't know how she got it - taking chances isn't worth it. Right now, they're keeping visitors to family only and being diligent about hand-washing. Other than doctor appointments, he'll be kept at home for a couple months with few visitors.

I just can't wait to snuggle him! Paul is going to his parents' for deer hunting, and I might go with...mostly because Gabe and family live only 30 minutes away. :) It will be fun to see the big brothers, too. I just love my nephews and niece, and there's another nephew on the way!

When my baby comes, there will be three new babies within three months. These cousins are going to have so much fun together!

It is interesting symmetry, though. Our family lost three babies in 2009. Sophia was the third child in her family. Three often represents the trinity of body, mind and spirit. We all felt weakness here. Three represents divine perfection. All of these babies are perfect because they are created by God. Growing a baby is divided into trimesters. And three represents the triune God. A perfect God. The Holy Spirit, which has comforted me so during this time, joins God the creator and Jesus our deliverer to complete the fullness of the Godhead. Google "symbolism of three," and you'll find all sorts of interesting things.

There is just so much to be thankful for. These babies are the hope that we've clung to. Now I pray for the safe and healthy arrival and infancy for them all.

memory boxes

I finally did it.

I had been wanting to gather my babies' things in one place for a long time, but the boxes had just been sitting empty for several months. For awhile, I thought Paul and I needed to do it together, so I put it off. The time just had to be right. And why it felt right between loads of laundry, I don't know.

Sorting cards that were sent to us made me cry. Because of the kind words. Because there are fewer after the second miscarriage than the first. Because there were "congratulations on your pregnancy" cards for both of them, but not this current one. I cried because there are so few things in my first baby's box. I cried because I don't have a picture of Paul and me from when I was pregnant with my second baby.

I cried because this is my life. My babies died. And that will always hurt.

When I bought the memory boxes, I found a third, smaller one that says hope inside a heart. I didn't buy it with the intention that it would become another memory box. It's a hope box. And so in it right now are the three positive HPSs showing the good news of this pregnancy. The hope box is a good place for them. At least it's better than my underwear drawer.

I restacked the boxes on the little shelf and set my Willow Tree "Promise" figurine on top. Paul gave it to me for our anniversary one year, and it had the shelf all to itself until the babies' boxes needed a place. This has been the arrangement for several months, but I had never noticed that it represents our family now. Paul and I with our three babies. All the tangible memories I have from the first two are gathered together, with a box of hope for this baby.

The boxes sit in our bedroom where we see them whenever we walk in or out. They don't need to be on display elsewhere; they are just for us to share if we choose. Their nearness is comforting.

rainbow - a sign?

I just looked out the window and saw a GORGEOUS rainbow. It is so big, so clear and arcs gently behind the building across the street. I don't think I've seen a rainbow in a very long time.

A sign? Maybe. I'll take it. It's been one heck of a good day!

met a miracle on Saturday

I met a miracle on Saturday. She was 10 days old and has strawberry blonde hair. She slept in my arms for over an hour, and didn't like her feet to be uncovered.

This little girl has been hoped for and prayed for by many for a very long time. Her heartbeat was the first her parents saw after several miscarriages and rounds of IVF. The announcement of her arrival on Facebook received more comments that I have ever seen before. All babies are special, but she is SPECIAL.

The whole time I sat holding her and watched her mom with her, I was so hopeful. Her first picture shows eight cells, and now she's a feisty little baby. With so much that has to happen perfectly, it's a miracle babies are ever born. But it happens. This little girl is here. She is proof that all can be well after devastation.

This little one I am carrying is a miracle, too. I fully plan to hold my little one in my arms in about seven months and marvel at what a miracle she/he is.

 I love my little one so very much.

due date

So today is my due date for my second baby. It's so surreal. How has the time managed to go so quickly and slowly all at once? So much has happened since we learned we were pregnant back in September.

But it's okay. I'm actually doing okay. The anticipation of the due date for my first baby was much more intense. But I've been through it before, and I've survived. I mentioned it to Paul last night, and he said he didn't remember because it wasn't important anymore. Ouch. It's still important to me, but I understand that the best way he copes is to not dwell on what might have been.

People are waiting for me to announce a pregnancy...just yesterday, a coworker texted me and said, "You're pregnant! That's why you passed on the ceviche at lunch!" Nope. Just ran out of time to eat. I was actually quite disappointed I missed out on the ceviche. That exchange probably got to me more than living through today. It's the things that I don't prepare for (when it seems like I over-prepare for every situation I can imagine) that get to me, rather than the things I think will bother me.

I have so much love for my babies and Paul. And I have the capacity to love more babies, however and whenever they come to me.

A couple weeks ago, I wrote about how I was contemplating if I could choose to move forward and not live in the intense grief. I think I have; I just needed someone else to tell me that I could. I wish more than anything I was holding a baby right now. That I'd have the summer off to just be a mom. I will always long for my babies. I miss what I don't have and haven't experienced...yet...basically all the things that come with being further along in pregnancy. One day I'll be there.

"hope for the day"

I'm on the SilentGrief mailing email list, and these nuggets usually come on Mondays. Today's email was about "grief attacks." Boy, do I know these! In fact, I had one just last night. So many points here resonate with me. Hope is bigger than fear. I will make it through this; I have before, and so have others. I need to feel what I feel; ignoring it won't help. "The raw part of grief work.." Love it.

Hoping something here does good for your spirit, as well.

"HOPE FOR THE DAY" from SilentGrief.com

http://www.silentgrief.com/
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April 26, 2010

Grief seems to hit us like a tidal wave at times when we least expect it. We can be plodding along in life "okay" when all of a sudden we get smacked hard with the reality of our loss, and we're left feeling like we are drowning in a sea of sorrow with no life jacket in sight.

Being aware of how grief works is a critical part of our grief journey. Knowing that we can get these "grief attacks" unexpectedly can actually help us to prepare for them. When your tidal wave of grief hits, take some long, deep breaths, and prepare to wait it out. Don't fight it or try to swim against the tide. You will only exhaust yourself both physically and emotionally. Feel the pain with the knowledge that following this storm, the seas will once again return to calm, and you will have better days ahead.

The pain will begin to subside as you begin to acknowledge the fact that grief attacks are only momentary in nature. The raw part of grief work has already been done, and you will be able to manage your grief by thinking more calm thoughts, journaling your emotions, taking a walk among nature, and calling on a friend or two for some encouragement.

Did you get hit by a tidal wave today? Take courage in knowing that you're going to make it. Others have walked this path before you and they've made it and you will, too. Your hope is bigger than your fear. Your courage is stronger than your pain. And, your hope is always alive and at work! -- Clara Hinton

"I will face my pain with courage. I will make it!" --Clara Hinton

"For the Lord God is a sun and shield; The Lord gives grace and glory." --Psalm 84:11

For added encouragement, add Clara Hinton as your friend on Facebook.

Also, visit Clara Hinton at: http://www.clara-hinton.blogspot.com/

moving forward...?

I feel like things are finally looking up. All along over the past year, the past four months especially, I felt like I would know when my time for intense grieving is done when I get there. I hope I'm almost there. I really want to move forward. I need to. Paul needs me to. And I think my babies would want that.

The Threads of Hope, Pieces of Joy Bible study with Anchored by Hope came along for me at exactly the right time. I remember asking God to open my heart to acceptance, and I happened upon the Web site shortly thereafter. I don't think it's a coincidence. After my miscarriage in December, I wanted to grieve well. This study has provided a framework and community to do just that. I am constantly amazed by these women and their willingness to share their journeys.

Now we're almost done with the study. And I'm approaching the one-year annivesary of my first miscarriage. I know I'm not dishonoring my babies by moving forward, and I'm starting to believe it. I want to focus on what I do have and the good things that are going on. Paul and I are talking about starting to try to get pregnant in the next couple months. And we're in that place together. That feels good, because it's been awhile since we've found ourselves in the same place.

I love my babies. And miss them. So. Much. That will never change.

endless is the victory

Today is Easter.

I feel like I should have more to say about that, but I don't. I didn't have any strong feelings about anything throughout the day; rather, I felt disconnected from most of what was going on.

Church was nice, and the music was fabulous. We went to the full service intentionally so that we could enjoy being surrounded by so many people singing the beautiful Easter hymns. And there is no better day for a brass group to join with the organ in fanfare. There were lots of kids in church today, including several babies. I honestly didn't think about my babies when I saw them. I guess it made getting through that hour or so a little easier.

Even still, the meaning of Easter has never rung more true for me because I have never been touched so closely by its promise. Jesus died so that we may live. My babies are included in that we. I find so much peace in that. So much.

change of perspective?

I really, really, really like the therapist I'm seeing. 

Today Paul came with me (yay - only took a couple months of convincing!), so we talked a lot about how I feel things and how that affects our relationship, when Paul doesn't feel things exactly the same way. We also talked about how he's doing. It was a good conversation, and he's even open to coming with me again.

We talked about how low I've been feeling lately, and I felt a bit validated when Paul agreed that it has been worse lately, for whatever reason. She suggested that I go back to some of the coping strategies that helped me early on, since what I'm feeling is so raw again. One of those is to set aside time each day (or when I need it, but the time should be intentional) to address my feelings and let it out. Crying, journaling, blogging?, whatever, but it's time to give purpose to the feelings. The reason is to set aside specific time so that the feelings don't HAVE to penetrate every moment of every day. This is EXACTLY where I've been bogged down lately. It's like the grief is a weighted vest that makes breathing difficult. I can be intentional about growing stronger while working with it rather than exhausted from working against it. I own it. It doesn't own me. 

I am a feeling person. Is anyone surprised?? To a degree, I have chosen this path. It can be a harder road to refer to my babies as people rather than "just" pregnancies. There is no distance in that for me. Other people might cope differently, and that's okay. Today she suggested that I also might choose to see the good - celebrate the life that exists, first here on earth, in me, and now in heaven. I feel like I have focused more on what I DON'T have, especially since I knew these babies for so little time and never got to hold them. But I CAN celebrate their lives.  

"The LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD." Job 1:21
God gave my babies life, and my babies dwell in heaven now. I will praise God now and forever, and I look forward to the day we all celebrate life together.

I'm going to work on this. And if you find me stuck in my own head, please remind me, dear friends, to celebrate life.

how can i keep from singing

This song is one of my favorites because of its simplicity, and it's been on my heart a lot lately. It has special meaning because I am a musician; I can't imagine my life without music. But more than that, I am an optimist. I will be joyful and praise God in the midst of it all. And I will cling to this hope.

I accompany two children's choirs at my church, and "How Can I Keep From Singing" was in my folder the first day of rehearsal last fall. Just a few weeks ago, they sang it for Sunday services. (Three, in fact, instead of the usual one - even more worshipers heard them that day!) How special to hear their sweet, pure (usually-in-tune) voices join together in these words!

My life flows on in endless song;
Above earth’s lamentation
I hear the sweet though far off hymn
That hails a new creation:
Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear the music ringing;
It finds an echo in my soul—
How can I keep from singing?

What though my joys and comforts die?
The Lord my Savior liveth;
What though the darkness gather round!
Songs in the night He giveth:
No storm can shake my inmost calm
While to that refuge clinging;
Since Christ is Lord of Heav’n and earth,
How can I keep from singing?

I lift mine eyes; the cloud grows thin;
I see the blue above it;
And day by day this pathway smoothes
Since first I learned to love it:
The peace of Christ makes fresh my heart,
A fountain ever springing:
All things are mine since I am His—
How can I keep from singing?

While this isn't my favorite version, I do love Eva Cassidy!
How Can I Keep From Singing - Eva Cassidy