April 23, 2010

I think I’ll be taking a bit of a blogging sabbatical.  as the daylight hours have increased, the hours for being inside and plucking away at the computer have decreased.  it seems like that with more day there should be more time to get stuff done, but it isn’t working out that way.  I’m not exactly sure where the hours go… I guess they get lost up at the park with the kids, walking to the store with friends, sitting by the fire with brian… … … anyway… … … just thought I’d let you know.  if you don’t hear from me for some long stretches… I’ll be outside, soaking up some love.


April 18, 2010

so, I’ve known that I am now sterile for about a month.  and it turns out that something that I thought might be sad or maybe even haunting has been a huge burden lifted off my shoulders, a weight off my chest.  I can breathe.  I’ve been worrying about getting pregnant or not getting pregnant for the last 6 years.  (actually the last 15.)  now that is all over.  I am happy that I don’t have to decide about having a baby anymore.  (let me say that I know it isn’t really  my decision before you want to correct me.)  I’m happy that decision is behind us, and I’m completely secure that we made the right decision for our family.  getting pregnant again would put me at serious risk. 

  it isn’t a relief because we don’t want any more babies, it is a relief because of all the medical issues we don’t have to think about anymore.  and, if I am completely honest, I am content, or at least working really hard at being content, with our family the way it is right now.  maybe this is it for us, maybe we adopt in 10 years… I don’t know.  right now, our lives are relaxed because the big pregnancy cloud isn’t looming over us anymore.  and I’m being content in the ‘right now’.

I’m all right…

April 9, 2010

I’m all right.  really.  there are good moments, bad moments, sad moments, good days, bad days… hard weeks.  it seems this week started off hard, because of the holiday I guess.  I’m not sure, but it does seem to have something to do with it.  everyone getting together with their whole  family…  it didn’t help that as we were walking into church gabrielle pointed out all the big families walking in at the same time.  she said, “everyone here has a big family… except you mom.”  where’d that come from??  she didn’t say it in a mean way, just an observation I guess.

anyway, I carry on.  here we go.  one foot in front of the other.  feed the family, drive the kids around, wait for brian to get home, fold the clothes… the endless list keeps me going.  and the sheer will of God.

I lift my eyes unto the  hills, where does my help come from? 

my help comes from the Lord, maker of Heaven and earth.

…a psalm of ascent…


April 7, 2010

“When God sends forth a little soul
To learn the ways of earth
A mothers love is waiting there
We call this miracle birth
When God call back a tiny soul
And stills a fleeting breath
A fathers love is waiting there
This too is birth, not death.”


An Angel with the book of life wrote down my baby’s birth, and whispered as she closed the book, “too beautiful for earth”


“A Thousand Words Can’t Bring You Back,
I Know Because I Tried
And Neither Can a Million Tears
I Know Because I Cried”


I thought of you and closed my eyes,
And prayed to God today.
I asked what makes a Mother,
And I know I heard him say:
A mother has a baby,
This we know is true.
But, God, can you be a mother,
When your baby’s not with you?
Yes, you can he replied,
With confidence in his voice.
I give many women babies,
When they leave is not thier choice.
Some I send for a lifetime,
And others for a day.
And some I send to feel your womb,
But theres no need to stay.
I just don’t understand this God,
I want my baby here.
He took a breath and cleared his throat,
And then I saw a tear.
I wish that I could show you,
What your child is doing today,
If you could see your child smile,
With other children who say:
We go to earth and learn our lessons,
Of love and life and fear.
My mommy loved me oh so much,
I got to come straight here.
I feel so lucky to have a mom,
Who had so much love for me.
I learned my lessons very quickly,
My mommy set me free.
I miss my mommy oh so much,
But I visit her each day.
When she goes to sleep,
On her pillow’s where I lay.
I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek,
And whisper in her ear.
“Mommy don’t be sad today, I’m your baby and I’m here.”
So you see my dear sweet one,
Your children are Ok.
Your babies are here in My home,
They’ll be at heavens gate for you.
So now you see what makes a mother.
It’s the feeling in your heart.
It’s the love you had so much of,
Right from the very start.
Though some on earth may not realize you are a mother,
until their time is done.
They’ll be up here with Me one day,
And you’ll know that you’re the best one!


just some poesm I came across.  maybe they’ll comfort others in some way.  I know sometimes they are kind of corny, but there always seems to be one line that gets me.  this time it was

I just don’t understand this God,

 I want my baby here. 

 He took a breath and cleared his throat,

And then I saw a tear.


the work of mourning…

April 6, 2010

this really is work.  just when I feel I’m getting a little ahead, a little more balanced… getting my feet under me.  I get brought back down.

I want to just reach a point when I’m okay.  like, ‘whew~ glad that’s over.  time to move on.’  I guess I’m realizing that isn’t going to happen.  even when things get better, they will never be the same… they will never be like they were ‘before luke’.  I will never not have this wound, this scar.  my heart will never go back to what it was before… just like the stretch marks on my belly will never disappear.  they fade… but they are never gone.

whatever it is that has brought me down this time, has really brought me low.  the grief is like the ebb and flow of the sea… I get carried in, towards the land… I start to get my feet under me…  I start to feel like I’m going to be able to walk right out of these dark waters and then the ebb comes.  it pulls me back, it pulls me down.  I still try to walk forward in the shifting sand, but the water gets deeper and darker and I can’t fight against it…  then my legs are swept out from under me and I get pulled down.

this is work.  the rise and fall of the waters never stop.  I’m always either being pushed toward shore or pulled back to the sea.

I do believe that there will be a day when the lows aren’t so low.  all the space of this sorrow will be able to hold joy.  I’m just tired of waiting for that day. … … …  I want to make it come to me.  I want to do it myself.  I want to decide that this is enough and I’m going to be fine now.  it isn’t working out that way.

it’s such a complicated grief to lose a child… a new-baby… a long waited for, hoped for, prayed about baby.  it is so wrong.  just so … … not the natural order of things.

I think I’m going back to the beginning.  I’m regressing whether I want to or not… it is where the ebb is taking me right now.  I think I need to read some books on infant loss.  I need to hear others stories from other people and hear how they are coping, how they handle it when the pregnant lady is in line in front of them… what do they do when the person in the exam room next to them is listening to their babies’ heart beat with the doppler thing that goes woosh, woosh, woosh…  I layed in that hospital for days with a 24-hour monitor on making that same sound… always in my face these things… always in my face.

tonight I’m just thankful for the few friends who dare stay close to me through this.  there is a line from a book that I think says it best…

grandy found that most people can tolerate only a cup of someone else’s tear soup.  the giant bowl, where grandy could repeatedly share her sadness in great detail, was left for a few willing friends.

so true…  thank you dear friends.  thanks for sticking it out with me, for allowing me time to be sad when the waters pull back down.  you are a great blessing in my life.


this book that I love is called “Tear Soup” by Pat Schwiebert & Chuck DeKlyen.  I would highly recommend it to anyone dealing with loss… all different kinds of loss.

it still sucks…

April 5, 2010

it still sucks,         I’ll tell you why.

I always wince when babies cry.

to say it doesn’t,         cut as deep,

would be an outright, bold faced lie.

I also seem,         to always stand,

behind the pregnant lady.

I want to scream,         “you just don’t know!”

“I’ve held  that unborn baby!”

I sit in church,         and big fat tears,

fall steady from my eyes.

The pastor’s speaking,          but in my head

I’m only asking, “WHY?!”

just last night,         on the news,

I saw more than just 1 piece

of parents doing,         hideous things,

their own  child means the least.

yet here we sit,         on our couch,

with empty, aching arms.

we actually want,          a child to love,

and keep safe from all harms.

so here I am,         at the end,

of another damn hard day.

my head is splitting.         I am so tired.

I’d like to run away.

help me Lord!         I’m broken here!

don’t You understand?

I need Your help,         I can’t go on,

I’m sinking in the sand…