tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22739094309222646742024-03-13T20:23:01.174-04:00Lori Does MarylandLorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.comBlogger705125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-47098663298199905562016-03-09T17:23:00.000-05:002016-03-09T19:20:17.586-05:00When Your Child Asks If Death Is Painful...I don't even know how to answer some of his questions.<br />
<br />
I knew they'd come one day.<br />
<br />
They couldn't not--incorporating his brothers' short-lived lives into our every-day, regular lives as we do.<br />
<br />
Of course he would get to an age where he'd ask questions that he really wanted answers to and I just didn't have.<br />
<br />
Today, he asked if it was painful for Matthew to die. Randomly, out of the blue, he asked.<br />
<br />
I don't know.<br />
I don't think it was.<br />
I pray it wasn't.<br />
<b>But I don't know.</b><br />
<br />
People will tell you that circumcision 'doesn't hurt' and I think they're ridiculously ridiculous.<br />
Science has proven time and time again that babies, even in utero at earlier-than-one-would-think gestations, react to pain.<br />
<br />
<i>They.feel.pain.</i><br />
<br />
So, did it hurt him when they stuck him repeatedly to get blood into him?<br />
<i>I don't know.</i> Probably.<br />
<br />
Did any of the several procedures they attempted hurt him?<br />
<i>I don't know.</i> Probably.<br />
<br />
Did it his head hurt because he'd lost so much blood and oxygen?<br />
<i>I don't know. </i>Possibly.<br />
<br />
Did it hurt him when they quickly moved and jerked his body around in attempts to save his life?<br />
<i>I don't know.</i> Possibly.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTcP_lqd4PCktnCt_AKuO1vjMZ8Ay-W1CqqG38eNH-qcA2Mb65I2zgCu_hcgqjG-BqDMQcyX8ORjSxUNwRYUsNhZjm71NQ8iT8BMd_mQkiBNjXOhtTy34jpNJQZDoy6Kzk5S-VnUJ-E6o/s1600/IMG_2692+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTcP_lqd4PCktnCt_AKuO1vjMZ8Ay-W1CqqG38eNH-qcA2Mb65I2zgCu_hcgqjG-BqDMQcyX8ORjSxUNwRYUsNhZjm71NQ8iT8BMd_mQkiBNjXOhtTy34jpNJQZDoy6Kzk5S-VnUJ-E6o/s320/IMG_2692+2.JPG" width="213" /></a>Luke asked if he knew he was dying.<br />
<i>I.don't.know.</i><br />
<br />
<i><b>I</b></i> didn't know he was dying, so my fervent prayer is that <b><i>he</i></b> didn't either.<br />
But I.don't.know. <br />And neither does anyone else.<br />
<br />
So, when my child asked these questions? I answered the best I could.<br />
<br />
I told him I didn't know, but didn't think so. I told him that I'm sure they gave him medicines for any pain they thought he might have had and that a lot of the time, Matthew was probably not even aware of what was happening. I reminded him of last year when he had his oral surgery and how he didn't even know what happened and was fine after, which was a good frame of reference for Luke until he said, "But I didn't die."<br />
<br />
I told him that I fully believe that God gave Matthew mercy and that he took away all the pain from Matthew.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Luke said, "I'm sure He did that because He loves babies."</i></b><br />
<br />
And then we were both quiet.<br />
He, because his questions had been sufficiently answered, and me?<br />
<br />
Because what else is there to say?<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-65718409991919722742015-11-28T00:00:00.000-05:002015-11-28T00:29:42.679-05:00The Beauty Of a Birthday<b>His birthday was going to be a beautiful day.</b><br />
<br />
<i>Finally.</i><br />
Finally I'd hold a child in my arms and never let him go.<br />
<i>Finally.</i><br />
<br />
But I didn't.<br />
<i>He died. </i><br />
Six years ago today he was born and six years, nine hours and thirty minutes ago he died.<br />
<br />
I'd say tragically, but honestly? Isn't the death of any child, for any reason, at any time--isn't it just tragic?<br />
<br />
Parents.do.not.outlive.their.children.<br />
(Almost) no one nearly dies in childbirth.<br />
Healthy babies don't die because of labor complications.<br />
<br />
Or so we like to believe, because facing the reality that all of those things do, in fact, happen is just too horrendous.<br />
Too gut-wrenching.<br />
Too life-changing.<br />
<br />
Yes.<br />
Six years ago,<i> my life changed. </i>I became a mother.<br />
To a child I buried a week later.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, on <a href="http://www.stillstandingmag.com/" target="_blank">Still Standing</a>, I published <a href="http://stillstandingmag.com/2015/11/a-father-on-getting-over-it/" target="_blank">an article</a> by a father who lost his first son and only child to stillbirth. I often read many articles where I am shaking my head with a resounding, "YES!" in agreement, but this one...this one only a few days before Matthew's birthday...this one just spoke to me.<br />
<br />
It talked about 'getting over' loss...how one does and how long it takes.<br />
<br />
Reading his words, I began to sob --"<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 26px;">“You know, you don’t really get over it, or speed it up. It’s going to take as long as it’ll take. It’s more about how you live </span><em style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 26px;">with</em><i style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 26px;"> it</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 26px;">.”</span><br />
<br />
You don't ever really get 'over it.'<br />
But you do learn to live with it. Even if you never believe you could. Or even would want to.<br />
<br />
It's unbearable, but you bear it. And, you get to the point where even though it's still a <i>burden</i> you bear, the weight doesn't change, but it redistributes itself. Sort of molds itself around this new person you've become and this new normal you live.<br />
<br />
The magnitude of my loss...the weight of his death...in those early days?<br />
It crushed me.<br />
Choked me.<br />
Cursed me.<br />
Literally left me breathless so many minutes of every day.<br />
<br />
And while there are times where that same breathless feeling will come out of seemingly nowhere, nearly knock me to my knees and force me to acknowledge and submerge myself into the black heaviness, my ability to reemerge and return to light is so much stronger.<br />
<br />
Purposed.<br />
Confident.<br />
<br />
It's weird to say that...on the eve of his sixth birthday...that I am more confident in my ability to live without him.<br />
<br />
There's nearly nothing I wouldn't give to have him with me every day. For the first time ever the other day, Luke told me he wished he had a brother or sister to play with. That tore my heart up.<br />
<br />
Having Matthew here is not an option, though. And so, as I have for the last six years, I go about the business of not getting over his death, but living <i>with</i> it. Moving forward in life <i>with</i> it.<br />
<br />
Some days, living with his death is <i>ugly.</i><br />
Some days, living with his death means I go to bed at night thinking I just about had the perfect day.<br />
<i>Just about.</i><br />
<br />
But as the years accumulate, it seems I spend less and less time in the fiery, raw misery that those first days and weeks and years trapped me in and more time amplifying and extracting from the joy that simple things bring to me.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's so hard, sometimes, for those of us who have walked this path.</span><br />
<br />
To say we are able to be happy seems nearly sacrilegious.<br />
<i>How can one be happy when she mothers a grave?</i><br />
<br />
To say that we will grieve forever looks like to many a picture of unhealthy emotional integration, and though erroneous, the inability to be thankful for and enjoy the gift of the life one still lives.<br />
<br />
There's no great way or word to describe the in-between.<br />
Or, the <b><i>both.</i></b><br />
<br />
That's where I am.<br />
<br />
<i>Happy. </i> I live a life full of joy and smiles and love every.single.day. I look forward to every opportunity and have a heart full of gratitude, anticipation and hope. Oh, yes. I am happy.<br />
<br />
<i>Grieved. </i>Death stole a lifetime of hugs and tickles and, "I love you, Mama!"s. Death made my middle of three sons an only child who wishes he had siblings with which to play. Oh, yes. I am grieved.<br />
<br />
So, if there was one thing I'd proclaim as my most important realization over the last six years, it would be this:<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Death does not win.</span></b><br />
It claims its little small victories, and mocks one as it does, but in the end?<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">It does not win.</span></b><br />
<br />
November 28, 2009 <b>was</b> a beautiful day. One of the best of my life. <br />
Death on November 29, 2009 may try to steal that from me, but it cannot.<br />
<br />
No matter the outcome, there is unmatchable beauty...in simply being his mother forever...<br />
<br />
Today, and always, I celebrate the beauty of his birthday.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsPYlXS-hKoyfuko3LfhuG3RkCA7ZM9hy1SBfmMaTod7tr3rabCmDC2hzyQTVb3hsdGMozi8XM9Vky4zeCCSqTNIGzyodcmC8QzsZyoAf3YRwO228woU32CURrGeOXEnsx_IhtAFo5WMQ/s1600/IMG_0082Esbnw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsPYlXS-hKoyfuko3LfhuG3RkCA7ZM9hy1SBfmMaTod7tr3rabCmDC2hzyQTVb3hsdGMozi8XM9Vky4zeCCSqTNIGzyodcmC8QzsZyoAf3YRwO228woU32CURrGeOXEnsx_IhtAFo5WMQ/s640/IMG_0082Esbnw.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-83556434428946476402015-10-17T17:40:00.000-04:002015-10-17T21:23:04.533-04:00Are You Really Thinking Of Me All the Time?<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
Are you <em>really</em> thinking of me all the time?</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
Or praying for me all the time?<br />
Or thinking of my dead sons all the time?<br />
Or sending me love all the time?</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
Will you <em>really</em> miss my sons <i>forever</i>?<br />
Think of them forever?<br />
Keep them alive in your heart <i>forever</i>?</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
I mean, really? Are you?<br />
DO you?</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
Because you tell me you are a lot.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
<br />
When I post something on social media about one of them, I get lots of comments that say you are. Say you will. Say you do.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
I see the same comments on the threads of other friends who have lost children..."<em>Always</em> thinking of you. <em>Always</em> praying for you. <em>Always</em> remembering them. <em>Always</em> missing them with you."</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
I'm not trying to be argumentative, but the reality is, I don't <i>always</i> do all those things.<br />
And I don't imagine (or expect) you to either.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
Hard as it is to sometimes admit, my dead sons, and their not being with me on this earth, are not <em>always</em> on my mind.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
It's impossible for them to be so. Psychologically speaking, our brains simply could not do so and process the rest of day-to-day life as they have to.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
And let's be honest--much as I adore my sweet little Luke, he is not <em>always</em> on my mind. I am not <em>always </em>thinking of him, <em>always</em> praying for him. I will not <em>always</em> remember everything he does, and that's okay. That's <strong><em>normal.</em></strong><br />
I don't expect you to <em>always</em> think of Matthew or Trey. I don't expect you to have us in your daily prayers or to light a candle or whatever each day because you are thinking about me and my grieving heart. I, their own mother, do not do that.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
I know those are well-intended and supportive, kind thoughts and words that are posted in response to something I may post about them, or speak to you about, and I appreciate your kindness and effort in letting me know that their presence in my life didn't die just because they did.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
But what I do expect is the understanding that when I <strong><em>am </em></strong>remembering...thinking of them...missing them and posting or speaking of them because of something triggering me and reminding me of their absence--<em><strong>I expect you to understand that too is normal.</strong></em></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
<em><strong><br /></strong></em></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
It's <strong>not</strong> me stuck in grief.<br />
It's <strong>not</strong> me not getting over their deaths.<br />
It's <strong>not</strong> me living in the past and not appreciating the present.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
It's me, being <em>normal.</em> If you expect me to believe <em>you</em> are always thinking of my sons and missing them also, than it <em>should stand to reason</em> that I, their mother, may do so as well, right?</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
Unless you don't mean you are <em>always</em> thinking of me.<br />
<br />
I'm not trying to call anyone out.<br />
I'm not trying to diminish the precious value in those comments you leave.<br />
I'm not trying to be unappreciative of the support from people who often just don't know what to say.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
I get that. And, am very thankful, as I am sure that other mothers who receive those comments and platitudes are.<br />
<br />
But do me a favor, will you? If you are one of those who may see something I post or write or hear something I say and you (innocently, and probably concerned for me, I am sure) think, "Oh, poor Lori. I sure hope that one day, she won't hurt as much/moves on/gets past/gets over it," please just know that my remembrances and feelings are normal and understandable; expected and <em>healthy.</em></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
<em><br /></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><em style="line-height: 1.5;">I repeat that. Healthy. It is with a healthy mind and heart that I remember and miss my sons.</em></em></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQtugA4xo0FSXatCSjOTzCxkCPMDByN_RVOM56NzVJDGRI-6clEcnrIR2_PJRygghEaDNIUIRRTjOVZlWNLGMc20MIwtCjSizdOuyaF_ZNbVls-2jEKsG67KrwAlwiuAHgyrJYJ0rP-U/s1600/design+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQtugA4xo0FSXatCSjOTzCxkCPMDByN_RVOM56NzVJDGRI-6clEcnrIR2_PJRygghEaDNIUIRRTjOVZlWNLGMc20MIwtCjSizdOuyaF_ZNbVls-2jEKsG67KrwAlwiuAHgyrJYJ0rP-U/s400/design+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span data-mce-style="line-height: 1.5;" style="line-height: 1.5;"><em><br /></em></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
<span data-mce-style="line-height: 1.5;" style="line-height: 1.5;"><em><br /></em></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
<span data-mce-style="line-height: 1.5;" style="line-height: 1.5;">Because if anyone is really and truly </span><em data-mce-style="line-height: 1.5;" style="line-height: 1.5;">always</em><span data-mce-style="line-height: 1.5;" style="line-height: 1.5;"> thinking about, missing, praying for and remembering a child/children who are no longer living?</span><em><br /></em></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
<span data-mce-style="line-height: 1.5;" style="line-height: 1.5;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
I'm putting "One Who Picked Out the Coffin and Walked Away From the Grave" at the top of the list.</div>
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-77930310273960119732015-07-30T22:57:00.000-04:002015-07-30T23:54:21.274-04:00To The Kindergarten Teacher Who Is Missing One....Dear Kindergarten Teacher,<br />
<br />
I remember!<br />
<br />
I remember being sad that summer was nearly over, but, if honest, excited when all the school supplies started showing up in the Target aisles (although, let's be real...it sort of made you want to scream seeing it in early June, right???).<br />
<br />
I remember thinking about all the new little ones I'd be in charge of that upcoming school year! Thinking about how much fun we'd have and all the growth I'd see. I was excited to put new name tapes on each desk and create bulletin boards with my new kids' names outside my door!<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOSh1GVydgMaMTftU-j48YDzcSwj8msQkGZ1YklXiBaQSstKjA972199PcoPP2DgHeZjhJyMd4_ua06r8UldS8Yaw6BlbiCWw9yANN9bnDU5SROzQx4ExVEmaU1PExkUcdTIxL8sc7nN0/s1600/100_3448.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOSh1GVydgMaMTftU-j48YDzcSwj8msQkGZ1YklXiBaQSstKjA972199PcoPP2DgHeZjhJyMd4_ua06r8UldS8Yaw6BlbiCWw9yANN9bnDU5SROzQx4ExVEmaU1PExkUcdTIxL8sc7nN0/s400/100_3448.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I had a lot of hopes and dreams about how perfect the upcoming year was going to be, and each year, I was optimistic I'd have the best class ever. (And, you know what? I did!)<br />
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: center;">So, I remember being where you are now.</span><br />
<br />
And, I know you are busy. I do. Gracious, do I know you are out spending tons of your own money and putting in a million of your 'summers off' hours into your classroom making it perfect for each new child who will walk in your door in just a few weeks.<br />
<br />
I know you have a lot on your plate, even though school hasn't even started.<br />
<br />
But, I'd like to ask you a favor, if I could?<br />
<br />
(Former) teacher to teacher?<br />
<br />
I'd like for you to know there is one who won't be in your class this year.<br />
<br />
<b>He should have been.</b><br />
<br />
I prayed for years for him and when we chose the house to live in, we picked out <i>your school</i> just for <i>him.</i> <br />
<br />
He had brown eyes and brown hair and was probably going to be a very tall little boy, based on how tall he was when he was born and how tall his daddy is. <br />
<br />
He loved music! Much like his little brother, if it had a beat, he'd bounce around to it. He wasn't much of a night owl, and he was always so good to Mama when I wanted to sleep!<br />
<br />
He was going to start piano this year. His Daddy and I sat in church watching little ones play the piano and we'd say to each other that when he was old enough, he'd take piano. This would have been the year I started him, and we'd have a piano in our front room, right by the window, so I could hear him practice while I cooked him dinner.<br />
<br />
I bet he would have been a lot like I was in school. A smart boy who would ask a lot of questions, but I also think he'd have been a lot more quiet than I was because he'd have his daddy's scientific brain constantly formulating new questions in his head. <br />
<br />
When it got cold, you'd probably have a hard time convincing him to keep his hat on, because I think he'd have had his daddy's hair and it would stick out from all the static the cold, dry air would create. I don't think he would have liked that, and would just prefer to be hatless.<br />
<br />
Sweet teacher, he probably would have been an only child, so he may not have been the best sharer. I'm sorry. I'd work my best with him, but if I am really honest, he was so loved and wanted, he'd probably have been spoiled rotten. I'd have worked with you in any way I could to help him be a good citizen in the classroom.<br />
<br />
I would have LOVED to be your room mom! I would have worked with small groups and rearranged your bookshelves and graded papers and planned the best classroom parties you've ever seen! I'd waited so long to have him, I was unbelievably excited to be an involved PTA mom! <br />
<br />
But, you'd also probably need to give me lots of tissues that first day (and maybe several more thereafter) because even though I knew he was ready for Kindergarten, and he wanted to go, I wouldn't be ready.<br />
<br />
I would miss him.<br />
Terribly. He was my whole heart.<br />
<br />
So, I ask this of you.<br />
<br />
This year, as you are preparing your classroom, remember that each one of those sweethearts you are about to call your own is someone's most precious, precious person. Remember that each Mama and Daddy who trusts you with his or her son or daughter gives a big piece of his or heart away to you every morning.<br />
<br />
And, on those days where you would rather be anywhere BUT that classroom (and I get it!), know that there's a Mama<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><b><span style="font-size: large;">who wishes more than anything </span></b>her son was in your class. <br /><br />There. <br />With you.<br />
<br />
His name was Matthew.<br />
<br />
And he's the one who won't be there this year.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-65981911107371930042015-06-21T13:33:00.002-04:002015-06-21T13:33:39.341-04:00Xlear Care Xylitol Products ROCK!Most of the time, when I do a blog review, I've usually applied to be selected to do the review, and that typically means it is a product I am interested in or would like to know more about.<br /><br />So, when the Kiwi <a href="http://www.greenmomsmeet.com/" target="_blank">Moms Meet</a> club put the invitation to apply for <a href="http://www.xlear.com/" target="_blank">Xlear Care (Spry) </a>products out, I JUMPED at the chance! I already was very familiar with the gum, as it is now the only gum I will chew, and had NO idea there were so many more amazing products in their product line!<br />
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I think the most important thing to point out about Xlear Care products is that the main ingredient in the line is xylitol. Xylitol is a naturally occurring sweetener (a sugar alcohol that is found in fruits and vegetables). It metabolizes fewer calories than sugar and has lower on the gylcemic index, so it makes it a FABULOUS natural sweetener and alternative to junk sugar replacements. It's sweet, so even littles like it and that makes it a nice way to naturally sweeten toothpaste and other oral care products, but what I love is how it inhibits bacteria growth. A study showed that it basically prevents the most common cavity-causing bacteria from growing, which obviously helps prevent cavities, and can even promote remineralization of tooth enamel! The American Academy of Pediatric Dentistry supports the use of xylitol to help with cavity prevention, and some pediatricians are even finding the use of oral suspension xylitol to be helpful in the prevention of ear infections in kiddos and sinus infections in adults. (Can I get a "Hallelujah!!!"?)<br /><br />
I also want to be clear about xylitol-based products, as there are a lot out there...the main reason I began chewing <a href="http://www.xlear.com/" target="_blank">Spry </a>gum was because I am a habitual gum-chewer and realized that I was POISONING myself with the crap in regular/sugar-free chewing gum. Spry became my go-to because of the ingredient, and more, the 100% GMO-FREE. Yep---while there are many xylitol-based gums and products, Spry is GMO-Free and that's important when you are looking to replace gums/toothpastes/mints/rinses/etc., with xylitol-based products. You may be doing yourself a favor with the xylitol over other junk sweetener, but who wants to do so with a nice little dose of GMO-based xylitol?<br /><br />Not me.<br />
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I already knew I loved the gum. LOVE the gum. Cinnamon and Spearmint are my favorites, though the peppermint that I received in the sample pack totally rocks. In teaching Luke how to politely tell Mama that she has coffee breath (instead of, "Mama, I don't like your breath!" I suggested he say, "Mama, would you care for a mint?"), I will now get offers that go like this: "Hey Mama, would you like a piece of Spry gum?" Ha ha. Yes, son, I think I would!</div>
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As you may or may not know, we've been battling some ickies lately! Luke had croup, possibly Fifth's, an icky cold and mycoplasma (walking pneumonia!). His poor little nose was a mess for a bit and when the pediatrician asked me what I was doing for it, I pulled out the conveniently received bottle of Xlear Nasal Spray to show her. <br /></div>
<div>
Her exact words were, "I love xylitol! I just read a study about using that to help with ear infection issues and I think it's a great sinus rinse! What do you think of it?"<br /><br />I loved being able to tell her that it was a perfectly timed Godsend--I had no idea that there was such a thing as a xylitol nasal rinse and now? We use it daily and Luke loves it. The boy ASKS for it over other saline solutions and I am happy, happy, happy to oblige. There is no doubt it will be a staple in our house!<br /><br />The toothpaste we got was a bit 'spicy' for Luke, but I LOVE how fresh my mouth felt and the mouthwash? Ummmmm...awesome. AWESOME. It didn't have an icky aftertaste and honestly, the fresh taste lasted longer than I've had other mouthwashes allow. I regularly use my Thieves mouthwash but have added the Spry into my regimen because I like the way my mouth feels so much!<br /><br />Y'all.</div>
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<br />Like I said, I am somewhat picky and choosy about what products I review because let's be honest. Who wants to have to do a review that says, "Ummm....yeah. Thanks, but no thanks?"<br />Not many of us. I of course would be honest, but it's a lot easier (and more fun!) to do reviews when I love the product, and friends--I do.</div>
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As we move more and more into a non-toxic household, and further and further away from junk in food and products we use, I am always looking for products to help us do so. I want Luke to grow up making choices that are good for his body and his life, and the fact that my four-year-old will say, "Mama, I need a piece of gum to help clean my teeth!" after he eats a 'treat' at a birthday party makes me happy. Of course, it's a total win that he likes the gum so much that he'll just tell me, "My teeth don't feel clean. Maybe I should have some spearmint gum?" because I'm helping fight cavities and preventing bacteria that could cause ear or sinus infection from growing. Glad to oblige, son!</div>
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The kit I got to review was AWESOME. It was TONS of products and the fabulous folks at Xlear have given an amazing coupon code through the end of this month to get the package at 50% off! Try shopping your local Wholefoods or Health store and see--that's a ROCKING deal--and one I'm going to utilize again as pretty much all these products are now staples of our house (and my purse, ha ha!). To get all of the amazing stuff below, <a href="http://www.xlear.com/xlear-care-kit-special/" target="_blank">click on this link </a>and utilize the coupon code SAVE50 but hurry because it expires June 30. I'll see you over there...be sure to save some spearmint and cinnamon for me! In the meantime, you can check them out on their <a href="https://www.facebook.com/xylitol.experts?fref=photo" target="_blank">Facebook page here</a>--they have fun giveaways and great tips for natural care!</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /><i>I received this product for free from the sponsor of the Moms Meet program, May Media Group LLC, who received it directly from the manufacturer. As a Moms Meet blogger, I agree to use this product and post my opinion on my blog. My opinions do not necessarily reflect the opinions of May Media Group LLC or the manufacturer of this product. </i></span><br />
Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-21821347333603500602015-04-29T22:14:00.000-04:002015-04-29T22:32:07.253-04:00Fear That Paralyzes...I often think I just need to ditch this blog. I hardly read blogs anymore because I keep up with most 'friends' through FB or other social media and I rarely write anymore.<br />
<br />
It's not for lack of words in my head, so I keep thinking to myself, "I need to get those thoughts out. I'll blog. Tomorrow."<br />
<br />
Tomorrow fills up pretty much as soon as today ends and becomes yesterday before I even know it.<br />
<br />
And the words stay. They swirl around. Lose power and gain permanency at the same time.<br />
<br />
I've yet to write about or do anything with Luke's birthday pictures. <i>From January.</i><br />
<br />
Or any of the other things that have happened since then.<br />
<br />
Too busy.<br />
<br />
I woke up in a panic the other night. Thinking, "I only have 2.5 months until Pre-K starts and then I have to give him away every morning for a few hours."<br />
<br />
I know the time to myself will be nice.<br />
I know I could keep him with me but he REALLY wants to go to school and he's got a great school he's enrolled in.<br />
I know this is all part of growing up and what I pray for every day.<br />
<br />
But I will miss him. I thought, "What will I do without him?"<br />
<br />
And then I stopped myself from that selfish, selfish thought. <b><i>I HAVE HIM.</i></b><br />
<br />
I <b>KNOW</b> what it is like to live without my child. Children. For real.<br />
<br />
Luke going to school is not being without him.<br />
It's him growing up and I am on my knees daily thanking God that he does.<br />
<br />
<br />
About a month ago, Luke fell out of his bed.<br />
I heard him cry out on the monitor and booked into his room. He was on the floor, crying, rubbing his head and I knew immediately he'd fallen. Probably hit his body on his book basket too, though all he was doing was rubbing his head and crying.<br />
<br />
He never cries because he is hurt. Rarely. It's gotta be pretty serious. John even came in because he knew it was a big deal.<br />
<br />
I checked his pupils and gave him some water. Held him and rocked him. Took him into our bedroom and debated whether I should keep him up because I was worried he might have a concussion.<br />
<br />
He fell asleep about 3 minutes after I first heard him. <i>He was fine. </i>(Though, the next day, we saw some pretty intense bruising and I felt terrible for him.)<br />
<br />
That night, I didn't sleep. Our fan was on, and his cheeks were cool.<br />
<b>Cold, actually.</b><br />
<br />
That triggered me. I imagined Matthew in the morgue. Remembered how I couldn't bear to go to the hospital he'd died in because all I could picture was them pulling his perfect but cold, hard body out of a body bag.<br />
<br />
I spent about 40 minutes in a near panic attack being terrified to fall asleep because I could not imagine waking up to Luke's cold, dead body--dead through the night because of the fall. <br />
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I cried quietly in my bed, with him in my arms and blew my warm breath on his cheeks to warm them up. Realized the irrationality of my thoughts and got up to put some essential oils on and pray.<br />
<br />
When I got back into bed, he was warm and snuggly and I was thankful but still not sleeping.<br />
<br />
Fear paralyzed me.<br />
<br />
I know fear is not of God. <i><b>I know it.</b></i><br />
<br />
But I also know that babies dying after they've just been born is not of God either. Starvation, child abuse, famine...none of that is of God because God is GOOD. God is LOVE. <br />
<br />
So while I know it is not of Him, that does NOT mean it does not exist and frankly, I get tired of acting like I shouldn't be afraid because I'm not being faithful or a good Christian if I am.<br />
<br />
I am very afraid of something happening to Luke. If it did, would I survive? <br />
I guess I would--since I said I never could if something happened to Matthew and clearly I have.<br />
<br />
But I wouldn't want to. <br />
And I still am afraid of something happening, whether it is 'meant to be' or not because my heart does not want to contemplate another child's coffin.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow Luke is having some surgery done. I hate it. It was somewhat inevitable, from food hoarding, and our OTs, pediatricians and dentists have been telling us it might happen for a couple of years.<br />
<br />
We are putting him under twilight sedation and I am terrified. He is little. <br />
People don't always wake up from that.<br />
<br />
The dentist said (before I'd told him I had a son die), "I know it's scary, but we do this all the time. The odds of anything happening are so slim."<br />
<br />
Yeah. Sort of like my nurse told me. "We deliver babies all the time. Everything will be fine."<br />
<br />
OF COURSE it usually is.<br />
<br />
I know that.<br />
<br />
But when you've been the one for whom it isn't? More than once? <br />
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You aren't very reassured by those words.<br />
<br />
In fact, there are not many reassuring words at all. Even ones that I believe are Truth--if they accompany the fact that my child dies? Again?<br /><br />Not reassuring at all.<br /><br />The ones that have all been swirling in my head for months are just blank now.<br />
<br />
Waiting with bated breath for that heartbeat of mine to wake up tomorrow and ask for his surprise.<br />
<br />
If you pray, will you please lift me up? He doesn't even know what is going on, and seems just fine about going to the dentist for them to 'fix the sugarbugs.' but I'm a mess worrying.<br />
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Might be another sleepless night.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-2195878918217085892015-03-29T21:52:00.001-04:002015-03-29T22:01:19.378-04:00SweetLeaf Organic Stevia ReviewOver the course of the last few years, I've been working hard to get rid of 'junk' in our lives and replace (if necessary!) with better, healthier alternatives.<br />
<br />
It is no secret that I am a sugar-holic! I have a little boy with a pretty decent sweet tooth as well, BUT...he has far more self-control than I do. He's the kid who will turn down two pieces of candy in favor of one because, "There is just too much sugar," or he'll ask for popcorn for desert because that's healthier than ice cream. (Who is this kid???!!)<br />
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So, when the opportunity to try a new, natural and organic sweetener came about, I decided I'd like to. I'm part of Kiwi Magazine's (MY FAVE!) Mom's Ambassadors Program and was able to receive samples from SweetLeaf to try through their <a href="http://www.greenmomsmeet.com/" target="_blank">MomsMeet program.</a><br />
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I have too many friends and family members who rely FAR too much on 'the little pink packets' and honestly, I can't stand the sight of them. I thought I'd found and was offering loved ones a better alternative when I offered Splenda, and yet....a quick Google search will show that the jury is still out when it comes to the complete safety of sucralose, and as such, I'm hesitant to offer that to anyone either.<br />
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Enter Stevia...a sugar substitute with no calories AND plant-derived. Something I can feel much better about offering!!! I feel like when one knows better, she should try to do better, and so I said goodbye to pink and yellow packets and hello to an organic, non-GMO alternative to sugar.<br />
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SweetLeaf Organics makes an organic stevia and I have to say, as far as sugar substitutes go, it does a nice job! It doesn't taste quite the same as sugar; I can definitely tell the difference between iced tea sweetened with sugar versus sweetened with stevia, but that is because I personally very rarely use sugar substitutes at all. My main purpose for having sugar substitutes in my house is so that I have alternatives for guests who do not choose straight, organic sugar (in moderation!) as I typically do. <br />
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I think I found a winner! I had several friends and family members who were typically pink or yellow packet people try and all agreed that considering the health risks of the packets, the SweetLeaf stevia was something they could DEFINITELY switch to! It's sweet enough, organic, and doesn't leave me terrified at the thought of cancer in using.<br />
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In addition to packets, they have other products in their line, but among them, things that I thought would be particularly amazing for people like me who are anti-soda but LOVE cold, carbonated drinks are the Sweet Drops! These are organic flavored liquid stevia drops and they are intended to be put in still or sparkling water. You could even put them in seltzer water, and seriously, it was SO nice to have a cold, sweet carbonated drink in my mouth--without all the CRAZY chemicals of soda! Luke and I are pretty good water drinkers, but if one was not? These drops would definitely be a pretty amazing way to encourage more hydration. Think Fruit2O but without sucralose!!!! Luke especially loved the berry flavor, and again, while we both are pretty great water drinkers, I just think of so many people I know and love who do not hydrate as much as they really ought to and for them? These drops could be game changers! There are over 20 different flavors, so surely, there is one that would rock someone's world. I liked the Vanilla Cream in seltzer water--almost like a Cream Soda!<br />
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I DETEST the taste of pumpkin, but I know tons of people love it--every fall, Facebook/Instagram/Twitter buzz alive with "Pumpkin Spice Latte is HERE!" and though personally, just typing those words makes me want to scrape my tongue (dramatic much?), can you imagine how much money you'd save if you used the Pumpkin Spice Sweet Drops and made your own latte? Not to mention, how much better for your body it'd be???<br />
<br />
Lots of options, and lots of safe alternatives for some of those 'cravings' we just seem to have a hard time getting over! <br />
<br />
I also really like that SweetLeaf has the commitment to natural health alternatives for its consumer as the fore running mission and the fact that they work diligently for environmental sustainability is something I very much admire! You can read more about the company and its dedication to consumer health here: <a href="http://sweetleaf.com/about/company/" target="_blank">http://sweetleaf.com/about/company/</a>, and while you are there, you can also check out other products in the line, as well as their Wisdom of Ancients products. I'm using a Cream of Coco soap (from the palm family, not coconut) and WOW! I love it!!! It's cleansing and moisturizing at the same time, and all in all, I am just pretty impressed overall with SweetLeaf's line and integrity as a company!<br />
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A few facts about SweetLeaf Stevia:<br />
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SweetLeaf Organic Stevia<span class="s1">® </span>Sweetener is a Certified Organic, zero-calorie</div>
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sweetener made from high-quality stevia leaves.</div>
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• With a delicious taste that is sweeter than sugar, SweetLeaf Organic</div>
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Stevia Sweetener is perfect for sweetening hot or cold beverages,</div>
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cereals, baked goods, desserts, fresh fruit, yogurt, and more.</div>
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• SweetLeaf Organic Stevia Sweetener is gluten free, and contains no</div>
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artificial ingredients, calories, carbohydrates, or glycemic response,</div>
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Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-76621535628216416872014-11-29T23:48:00.000-05:002014-11-30T00:33:42.333-05:00Five Years was Yesterday...Timehop Tells Me SoIt really was.<br />
<br />
I honestly do not know how it was just five years ago that I left that hospital without my child. That John left Georgetown after he held Matthew until he died, and then gave him to the nurses and just left.<br />
<br />
Alone. <br />
<br />
I still know that if that was me, they'd have had to sedate me and carry my body out.<br />
I would never be able to do that, and am sad that John did, but grateful.<br />
<br />
The PTSD episodes I've been having these last few weeks have been horrible.<br />
<br />
Like wake up at 1:26 several different mornings just sobbing horrible.<br />
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How does a body know that? I mean, really? How does my body know that he died at 1:26, and wakes me up crying to remember? In the last 4 weeks, I've done that at least five different times--the last was on his birthday. <br />
<br />
Black Friday. Oh, don't I know it.<br />
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We were overwhelmed, as always, with how much love and support we have. How many people remember what a beautiful but hard day yesterday was, and more, how hard today was.<br />
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How five years ago, the world stopped, even though it didn't, and I had to figure out how to keep breathing. <br />
Literally, I had to tell myself how to breathe.<br />
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There is never any milestone that seems easier or better. Every day is a different thing I've lost. And, while Luke makes our lives worth living and we are so grateful, there is no denying that the joy in watching him often makes what we lost with Matthew's death even more tangible--we don't have to imagine how amazing parenting our little boy would be--we gratefully get to do it--but not with all we should have. <br />
<br />
So five.<br />
<br />
Five has been very hard. Five seems like such a milestone. So many things that five would entail.<br />
He would be in pre-k this year, being a later birthday. He'd be writing his name and growing out of his toddlerhood into full-fledged little boy. Soccer. T-ball. Piano. We always wanted him to learn how to play piano.<br />
<br />
So much that we planned. Just stolen.<br />
<br />
I'm sure that plenty out there may think that having Luke makes it less a loss because we still have a little boy we get to do those things with.<br />
<br />
But it's not him.<br />
It is not John Matthew Ennis.<br />
He is not, nor ever will be replaceable.<br />
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I installed the Timehop app this year. It's been a really fun way to look back very fondly on Luke as he's grown.<br />
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I've also seen my blind, blissful innocence every day.<br />
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Every day, I want to tell that me something...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJz8w6gYJOOI9G3T7fpn5TzvaBhXpRdpzrnQZzHhikp_Q9dbbEnYrv72YzgNp3bJXfeuuXfF4IWCr2e7HTRPHRZHS9uPJqqrtVp3XLsI8YCvDgU2ixNdfR0N-uwxC5bhRQPP7B2MDKFw/s1600/photo+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJz8w6gYJOOI9G3T7fpn5TzvaBhXpRdpzrnQZzHhikp_Q9dbbEnYrv72YzgNp3bJXfeuuXfF4IWCr2e7HTRPHRZHS9uPJqqrtVp3XLsI8YCvDgU2ixNdfR0N-uwxC5bhRQPP7B2MDKFw/s1600/photo+2.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></div>
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That camera...it died to me the day he died. And then, I was given the gift of pictures of my son. That was the day that Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep became a precious ministry to me, and our sweet Maureen became a never-forgotten part of our story. That camera is now at a shutter count of almost 90k and I can't bring myself to replace it because I will never forget buying it and the purpose...to take pictures of Matthew. To learn how to become a "Momtographer" and document every second of his long-awaited life. I have been blessed to pretty much take a picture of Luke every day of his life, but...I'll never, ever forget why I wanted a nice camera and to learn how to use it.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAVMxFmC4qQzubkE0S4P2JpFg9-2uLVqDQb28v9DwzC99jz2oTY17fvfKBik442gPc-tctK3r7NGFiDQoaAjh9micyBc_AQVqpav0iCdLWMfDY3kWYVH2alNykRuDPimIpZSLBhXCeGbY/s1600/photo+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAVMxFmC4qQzubkE0S4P2JpFg9-2uLVqDQb28v9DwzC99jz2oTY17fvfKBik442gPc-tctK3r7NGFiDQoaAjh9micyBc_AQVqpav0iCdLWMfDY3kWYVH2alNykRuDPimIpZSLBhXCeGbY/s1600/photo+3.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></div>
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This was last year. It was so hard then. Those who say it gets easier? Liars.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Q1Oo_mnv03o5NBhh3SjI-VmNHDp5Zg1icEgTq_RTnr7_kGRnqLWYhYpxCSXIFGprxOvAkeIGsEzLT1KY9Q-qkXGcFMv_JLUqM2UdnQheZyJ0f2M2wPZZRxk4ZIYx2p7RoZsvl2PMyi8/s1600/photo+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Q1Oo_mnv03o5NBhh3SjI-VmNHDp5Zg1icEgTq_RTnr7_kGRnqLWYhYpxCSXIFGprxOvAkeIGsEzLT1KY9Q-qkXGcFMv_JLUqM2UdnQheZyJ0f2M2wPZZRxk4ZIYx2p7RoZsvl2PMyi8/s1600/photo+4.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></div>
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I look at this and really have a lot of regrets. I've been very blessed these last five years to not have many regrets. As the years pass, though, I feel like I have more and more of those, "I should have known," moments. This was just a week before we went to have him. The room we were in ended up being the exact same room I labored in a week later. The silly cd of labor music (the craziest heavy metal lullabies) was still in there from a week before. We didn't know it then, but this was the beginning of pre-e. Not that I had any major signs other than the blood pressure and swelling, but in hindsight, those were pretty significant for me. It wouldn't have changed anything. He didn't die from anything related. But who knows how it could have been?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIJ854qteHe-PATxA4nFaady9gjpsSL2DPmgBPqTAI0aZhSZptbvKp_nOhpwmZ7uKUyHEIBSukSc2RiUNnIPi7Lc2h5AueiV282lCSPtQqazJCKOGuEgO5UDnrQxKlMvpTJcp1UCUM8Oc/s1600/photo+11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIJ854qteHe-PATxA4nFaady9gjpsSL2DPmgBPqTAI0aZhSZptbvKp_nOhpwmZ7uKUyHEIBSukSc2RiUNnIPi7Lc2h5AueiV282lCSPtQqazJCKOGuEgO5UDnrQxKlMvpTJcp1UCUM8Oc/s1600/photo+11.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></div>
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I.was.so.wrong! There were a few weeks to go!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM-xuJFyml8gRRKlBhE6h059DGkjp8NKLADa80jk2tFJz5nvuJwx9SsfT4uTnH7BKj9XvFNDYcCiLkpceFrg9WjhPlCxKeG0XsL3Tggst7arKc8smGEcEsklyFJ2MatNPA5ReqBEnXgW4/s1600/photo+22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM-xuJFyml8gRRKlBhE6h059DGkjp8NKLADa80jk2tFJz5nvuJwx9SsfT4uTnH7BKj9XvFNDYcCiLkpceFrg9WjhPlCxKeG0XsL3Tggst7arKc8smGEcEsklyFJ2MatNPA5ReqBEnXgW4/s1600/photo+22.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></div>
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People were surprised I made it that long. I went out of work at 32 weeks because of swelling and concerns for leg clots. He wouldn't come for another 9 weeks almost!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih8t9_LZf3u6ikzBS9o62ZvEGipsZknGz0FY-GL3t-MSUG3UBlheHlnDUED-_RN34PYKDKOtLQwZ9XEy06g1798W800Qc8s_h3vaZc0Vn_M3letcq73Ncf0oyyEFUFgwnYV5dvAlCxYHI/s1600/photo+32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih8t9_LZf3u6ikzBS9o62ZvEGipsZknGz0FY-GL3t-MSUG3UBlheHlnDUED-_RN34PYKDKOtLQwZ9XEy06g1798W800Qc8s_h3vaZc0Vn_M3letcq73Ncf0oyyEFUFgwnYV5dvAlCxYHI/s1600/photo+32.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></div>
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Why? Why do we rush it? I know it is because I was so, so excited. But...gracious. What I wouldn't give for some more time with him. If I'd only known.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwx8FSPUG-cuu_-e8qKjQ6UA2bgrfQjc_eLwK_gQy-hjeyWZVszxSO65eRwlfb7DLDBwk9G_pYyIG1DmgcfFgt4QuqdwK4V0w5rJ7Wq5YwUHBr_qGAfZrsUzpPTByojunfDoarWWR7i5w/s1600/photo+43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwx8FSPUG-cuu_-e8qKjQ6UA2bgrfQjc_eLwK_gQy-hjeyWZVszxSO65eRwlfb7DLDBwk9G_pYyIG1DmgcfFgt4QuqdwK4V0w5rJ7Wq5YwUHBr_qGAfZrsUzpPTByojunfDoarWWR7i5w/s1600/photo+43.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></div>
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I cried this day. Cried. I was so swollen and in so much pain. I remember telling my doctor I still preferred a c-section. If only I'd stuck to my gut. Not that they pressured me to change my mind, because really, a c-section is no joke. But, I knew. Inside, I knew. Somehow. He'd have lived, if only we scheduled a c-section.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMAiygEptJv-spSWKHda5YcjX0cK8fopWh19YF6Bvb8Mn7uyNTf19RlGTBZ79vSL9aLUBo8xWPUZgdFEkKhnMst5FQ4XuEWeifoaHCG67Nwk870_NAaatFvaM5cROPnUiPRYA6_LFnBzk/s1600/photo+54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMAiygEptJv-spSWKHda5YcjX0cK8fopWh19YF6Bvb8Mn7uyNTf19RlGTBZ79vSL9aLUBo8xWPUZgdFEkKhnMst5FQ4XuEWeifoaHCG67Nwk870_NAaatFvaM5cROPnUiPRYA6_LFnBzk/s1600/photo+54.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></div>
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This is how I've felt for several weeks. It was only a little over a month ago that my third son would have turned two. I would have had a full house. Three boys running around.</div>
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But then I am honest. Luke would not be here if Matthew had lived. And then I stop thinking about it because it hurts my head and heart.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI3rkECMC0vTULv8fuYnxTVQMGp9EO-UURB0ZZnUjpZ6hC-WWkw8QO7mNL-JKhllIgN-7_kY0u-wLZyU74AnIF8GbE1xUSbqfvMggqG_ll0MBuY-nraIQq4_UY_Rkpeqx7cWfO9U6OjFA/s1600/photo+111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI3rkECMC0vTULv8fuYnxTVQMGp9EO-UURB0ZZnUjpZ6hC-WWkw8QO7mNL-JKhllIgN-7_kY0u-wLZyU74AnIF8GbE1xUSbqfvMggqG_ll0MBuY-nraIQq4_UY_Rkpeqx7cWfO9U6OjFA/s1600/photo+111.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></div>
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Yeah. WRONG. This was the last day we saw him on sonogram. November 23. I remember vividly. He only weighed 6lbs, 6 oz at birth so that sonogram was a bit off. I worried he'd be big for my little body. Oh, what I should have worried about.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeXhziTEFz07cPzyhSTmD2IA-tXZBto07S4v59Vm8KpfXt78VMzXxF2zub9VkgJu7zm5Cl_6x_8bSW9fUkFDg1B3NDUe1D67Us15_p8s8rzXr5GqOB5yaB4ea4JxxzCxTW7s0mXyPVMWk/s1600/photo+333.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeXhziTEFz07cPzyhSTmD2IA-tXZBto07S4v59Vm8KpfXt78VMzXxF2zub9VkgJu7zm5Cl_6x_8bSW9fUkFDg1B3NDUe1D67Us15_p8s8rzXr5GqOB5yaB4ea4JxxzCxTW7s0mXyPVMWk/s1600/photo+333.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></div>
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Hotel Mommy. The best job I've ever been given. He knew. He had to know he was going to die and it was already in the works. And there I was...begging him to come out.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnbK7Cj-zPUlE8g_N8LvHhWVL8DXo_eUT4BaCcYe56dYnbZKFgJwaCXZlosAnKQ3C_szJNoN2JAtPqqkPHyXp6I_IvLK6BloE62R-uT8E79y9ZkXnjpYGJoB3DtbktutlHHaa8JAMHOA/s1600/photo+444.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnbK7Cj-zPUlE8g_N8LvHhWVL8DXo_eUT4BaCcYe56dYnbZKFgJwaCXZlosAnKQ3C_szJNoN2JAtPqqkPHyXp6I_IvLK6BloE62R-uT8E79y9ZkXnjpYGJoB3DtbktutlHHaa8JAMHOA/s1600/photo+444.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></div>
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His due date. He outgrew his first outfit before he was even born. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDb7vrqFltW7Ei26QaC1YRk9ERBLsPgcDUjUdxKBzeeOSvBqNddCyEKq_hz1EbiYUMbvUURpjBpGU9tMfLh4ajCUwmvVRCIzRALwIAQx5oLRhvdWUiH_VD9hgjSiIu7DgJEuyREtoap2k/s1600/photo+555.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDb7vrqFltW7Ei26QaC1YRk9ERBLsPgcDUjUdxKBzeeOSvBqNddCyEKq_hz1EbiYUMbvUURpjBpGU9tMfLh4ajCUwmvVRCIzRALwIAQx5oLRhvdWUiH_VD9hgjSiIu7DgJEuyREtoap2k/s1600/photo+555.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></div>
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This is where I scream, "DO NOT DO IT! DO NOT GO! Let him stay with you as LONG AS HE WANTS!" I was terrified of going past 41 weeks. But if I had...maybe the pre-e would have come on while I was still pregnant with him instead of after and forced an emergency c-section. If only...</div>
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Obviously, Timehop has been hard on my heart. Has probably contributed to the sleepless nights and the night terrors and PTSD episodes.<br />
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But I still looked every day. I still want to remember because I was so happy. So thrilled. So excited. So. Ready.<br />
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Five years later, and it still feels like I was just leaving. Gut-wrenching and heavy like cement.<br />
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We put up our Christmas tree yesterday, as is our tradition for Matthew's birthday. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi858cMm2nG9xNVzcFDyKzEtKx_JlKELze236kt2eBFy3KyZ_80EebyhXAgMhl_uan0Ghd030rNvdonPlI6oecFBXM9rLkZPR5giom2Rpi3fHfNNAL9enKtIhodx4CjkWENB9rG_E5QNJc/s1600/DSC_0032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi858cMm2nG9xNVzcFDyKzEtKx_JlKELze236kt2eBFy3KyZ_80EebyhXAgMhl_uan0Ghd030rNvdonPlI6oecFBXM9rLkZPR5giom2Rpi3fHfNNAL9enKtIhodx4CjkWENB9rG_E5QNJc/s1600/DSC_0032.JPG" height="400" width="265" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj35eoYYRdl4bcFHR9RYkzCJFAaFXT1QJIrwg1AFkAe-PcPvTZJeD3rPL8qn3PdczTRwoPYtYLrtxzX6R0B3BB6Gzg6AKdbZoS4Do7wNjGPLVSCAtNi-_MQBWs_GW3UvKPVHlzOrIoeAf0/s1600/DSC_0043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj35eoYYRdl4bcFHR9RYkzCJFAaFXT1QJIrwg1AFkAe-PcPvTZJeD3rPL8qn3PdczTRwoPYtYLrtxzX6R0B3BB6Gzg6AKdbZoS4Do7wNjGPLVSCAtNi-_MQBWs_GW3UvKPVHlzOrIoeAf0/s1600/DSC_0043.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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I pulled out the stocking I'd bought for him in September. The "My First Christmas" ornaments I'd bought in July. I remember thanking God for his life, and promising that I'd raise Him to know and love Him. I promised that I'd remember he was His first and that I was only given him for a short time.<br />
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Friends, as well-intended as that talk was, and it really was well-intended, it was not true.<br />
I would have raised him to know God. To love and serve Him. I really was thankful for his life.<br />
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But really, Matthew was mine. The 'short time' I casually offered to God was something like 87 years at minimum. Certainly not the nine hours he lived, most of which apart from me. And, if I am REALLY honest? I know that we all belong to God.<br />
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But I don't want to offer Luke. I don't want to offer Luke for whatever time God deems. I wish I wanted to.<br />
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I just cannot fathom the thought of burying another child. My only living child. The reason I wake up in the morning. The mercy I was given after Matthew died. I cannot and do not want to do it. So, God and I just don't talk about that. I recognize that I'll hear all about trust and faith and sovereignty and all the things I've lived my life for and by.<br />
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If honest, I know His grace is sufficient. I know it is.<br />
I don't want any more lessons on it though.<br />
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And that's just the raw Mama's heart truth. <br />
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"Auntie Shelby" and "Uncle Craig" picked up Matthew's favorite cake and John, Luke and I sang him happy birthday. I asked Luke if he would blow the candles and eat the cake for his big brother and he said, "Sure. I'll do a great job for him."<br />
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I don't know that Luke will ever know what he means to us.<br />
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When I think of how fresh this seems, I remember one of the last arguments I had with my mom before she died. She knew she was dying, and I vehemently denied it because I am Queen of Denial. She told me she wanted to be cremated, and her ashes to be spread over our sister's grave. This sister was a little girl born still in 1978. In our family, she was "That baby mom had that died," and my stomach always turns when I think of the disrespect her life was given. I know it was a different time and a different era, and I know that was probably where my parents' marriage began to unravel, though they stayed married until she died. It was never the same marriage, though, and I can understand that. I know my mom mourned her sweet Angel (what my sister was named), and in hindsight, days I'd find her crying and then quickly covering it up make so much sense now. </div>
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When she told me that she wanted her ashes spread over Angel's grave, I was furious. For the duration of my mom's bout with cancer, I'd driven to her nearly every week or every other week (because John's dad was also battling cancer and I'd alternate weeks) and tend to her every way I could. I've always been the stereotypical 'oldest child' and a pretty devoted daughter, if I said so myself. So for her to want her remains to be left with a baby she didn't even know over her 'real, living' children? I felt it was completely disrespectful to our lives. WE were her children. WE loved her. WE did things for her. She never even saw that baby. (Oh, the tears I shed over knowing she suffered so silently for so long. I am heartbroken.)</div>
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She realized she'd upset me, and she dropped it. Never brought it up again, and she was cremated, but her ashes are in a mausoleum in the same cemetery that Angel is buried. </div>
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Now, I get it. She loved that baby just as much as she loved us because we were ALL her children. She mourned her for the rest of her life because there is no forgetting that a piece of your heart and soul is missing.</div>
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And, mostly, I got that nearly 30 years later, she missed that baby so much that her final wish was to be able to finally be together with her. Nearly 30 years later, the ache in her heart still ached with the same ache it had the day Angel died. She'd just had to learn to live with that ache, much as I have learned to live with mine.<br />
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Life goes on in spite of the ache. But every now and then, it aches as freshly and as intensely as it did the very day.</div>
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Like it was yesterday. </div>
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Five years was yesterday. </div>
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So says the ache in my heart.</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-16301984871795716872014-10-23T22:23:00.000-04:002014-10-23T23:52:29.260-04:00When Christian-ese Grieves the Grieving...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Do you see all those pictures?</div>
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All I did was Google, "God has something better," and instantly...hundreds and hundreds of similar images.<br />
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You might wonder why I even bothered Googling that. I saw something on the internet that made me wonder.<br />
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See that picture with the Jesus-looking guy asking the little girl for her Teddy Bear? She is telling him how much she likes it, but she just can't see that he's willing to give her the BIGGER, BETTER Teddy if she'll just trade.</div>
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Seems innocent, right?<br />
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I mean, who of us, whether we attribute it to God or the universe or sheer luck, hasn't once said, "Man...if such and such hadn't happened, then I would never have done/met/gone (fill in the blank)," when they think of how differently things could have played out?<br />
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I've said it. If I'd stayed with that boyfriend...If I'd taken that job...If I hadn't changed that major...</div>
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I've said it and I think we all have said it, and more, I've said it giving thanks to God for allowing something <i>better </i>to be in my life.</div>
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But friends. Please.</div>
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Let's be real.</div>
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The LAST thing a person of faith wants to hear, as his or her heart is aching, is, "Oh...but God's got something better!"</div>
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Because you know what? SOME things are not comparable.</div>
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Sure. There are better jobs. Better places to live. Better hobbies in which you can engage.<br />
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But--and listen to this very carefully, I beg you....</div>
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When it comes to losing a loved one...there IS NO better loved one with whom you can replace.</div>
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Using that example of Jesus just asking the little girl to trust Him with her little Teddy so He could 'bless' her with the bigger, better Teddy?</div>
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<i>Let's see how that sounds:</i></div>
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Your mom died? Hey. God's got a BETTER mom waiting for you.</div>
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Your spouse died? Hey. God's got a BETTER spouse waiting for you!</div>
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Your child died? Hey God's got a BETTER child waiting for you!</div>
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JUST TRUST HIM.<br />
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(Are we in agreement here that those statements sound RIDICULOUS????)</div>
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Trust in Jesus doesn't mean that you may have to relinquish a little control or something you love <i><b>in order to get a BIGGER reward.</b></i></div>
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Trust in Jesus means that you have to be willing to stand there...with the most amazing Teddy you will ever hold. The one you waited your WHOLE life for. The one you dreamed about and couldn't imagine your life without. That one.</div>
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You have to stand there and give it to Him.</div>
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No.strings.attached.</div>
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Because you promised that you would. When you promised to follow Him and love Him and trust Him, you promised you would.</div>
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No matter what.</div>
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Even if the bigger, better Teddy <b>never </b>came.<br />
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Or the ones you loved with all your heart were gone <i><b>forever.</b></i></div>
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You have to be willing to accept that giving Him that Teddy means that you'll NEVER live life again the same. You may get lucky enough to be given other Teddies to love and cherish, but there will NEVER be the one you gave Him again. And He wouldn't ask you to accept another as bigger and better because the VERY heartbeat He put in each little Teddy is PRECIOUS.</div>
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And Purposed.</div>
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AND IRREPLACEABLE.<br />
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I'm pretty sure there is no doubt that Luke is the most amazing human in our lives. He is our breath and our heartbeat.</div>
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But he was NOT the "Better" that God gave us because Matthew died.</div>
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He's just like his brothers.</div>
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A miracle. A blessing. A gift.</div>
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Now.</div>
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I'm not saying that the Grace of God doesn't deliver us and provides for us even when our own choices may prove non-advantageous. I absolutely believe He is merciful and I am SO grateful.</div>
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I'm just saying that if we constantly, as Christians, use this Christian-ese, we are doing two things very poorly.</div>
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1) We are not tending to grieving hearts. Jesus did not tell Mary and Martha, "Hey. I've got something better for you!" when their brother Lazarus died. No, Jesus wept. WEPT. He was so, so sad to lose His friend and for Mary and Martha. He grieved and He grieved with them. No, "Keep your eye on the prize and just trust that I've got something better coming." If we are to love people like Jesus, then by golly, let's love them like Jesus! Cry with them. Ache with them. Hurt with them. Love them; don't offer platitudes that will fall on deaf ears. <br />
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2) When we use that model--"Just trust that<b> this</b> disappointment is leading to a bigger reward!"--we are STEALING from Jesus! Yes, STEALING His power.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> <i><b> "<span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”</span><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"> II Corinthians 12:9</span></b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">When we are asked to give up the Teddy with NO promise of a bigger and better Teddy, we are at our weakest. And that, my friends, is when His power is made perfect. Not when He's giving us the bigger, better Teddy.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #001320;"><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; line-height: 20px;">When we are broken, poured out and left wanting. No beloved Teddy, but a Jesus who tells us, "My Grace is sufficient."</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #001320;"><span style="background-color: #fdfeff; line-height: 20px;">And then, lovingly proves to us that it is.</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-26164448747927287342014-08-20T00:12:00.000-04:002014-08-20T00:14:52.017-04:00On A Day of Hope...Grace Beyond the Realm of Reasoning<span style="font-family: inherit;">Today, many families around the world celebrated their children in a most unique and precious way--a WORLDwide memorial service held live online. The dear <a href="http://www.carlymarieprojectheal.com/" target="_blank">CarlyMarie</a> invited me to be a ceremony speaker, and if honest, I felt very much like a little fish in a very big pond. I read a passage from Gerald Stittser's <i>A Grace Disguised; How the Soul Grows Through Loss</i>, and couldn't have meant each word I read more. <i><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">“</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">Gifts of grace come to all of us. But we must be ready to see and willing to receive these gifts. It will require a kind of sacrifice, the sacrifice of believing that, however painful our losses, life can still be good — good in a different way then before, but nevertheless good. I will never recover from my loss and I will never got over missing the ones I lost. But I still cherish life. . . . I will always want the ones I lost back again. I long for them with all my soul. But I still celebrate the life I have found because they are gone. I have lost, but I have also gained. I lost the world I loved, but I gained a deeper awareness of grace. That grace has enabled me to clarify my purpose in life and rediscover the wonder of the present moment.”</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;"> </span></i></span><br />
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When my dear friends sent that book to me very shortly after Matthew died, it was hard to read. One of the first things I did when I got home from the hospital was to order every book I could find that I thought would answer, "WHY?" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Friends, please know. There aren't any such books. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I know, I know, many of you are in your head saying, "But there is! The Bible!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Show me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Because what the Bible tells ME is that His ways are not mine. His thoughts are not mine. In fact, Solomon, who some would say was the wisest man on earth said this in Ecclesiastes: "<i style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;"><b>When I applied my mind to know wisdom and to observe man’s labor on earth—his eyes not seeing sleep day or night- then I saw all that God has done. No one can comprehend what goes on under the sun. Despite all his efforts to search it out, man cannot discover its meaning. Even if a wise man claims he knows, he cannot really comprehend it." Ecclesiastes 8:16-17</b></i></span><br />
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Did you catch that? <i><b>Even if a wise man claims he knows it, he cannot really comprehend it.</b></i></span><br />
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Which is why that passage I read is so important. I lost, but <i>oh</i> how I have gained.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">(And, for the record, I do not believe I lost SO I could gain. I think ALL things can be worked for good and that there is beauty to be found regardless of whether or not a lesson is behind that found beauty.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've not ever been a big memorializer. I wish I was, and then again, I find less anxiety in not being one. To participate in this ceremony was really nothing that I thought it would be, but everything I didn't know I'd love it to be.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I shared with other women who have lost children and are Still Standing. Still Breathing. Still Surviving.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And best? Would even say they were <i><span style="font-size: large;">thriving.</span></i> This ceremony was one that allowed people all over the world to see that devastation happens...randomly and recklessly and ruthlessly.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But beauty can and does rise, and I never end a day without expressing my gratitude for that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Part of the ceremony was the sharing of prayer flags that honored and remembered our dead children. I'm pretty sure that those of you who know me in real life would say a lot of really nice things about me if asked, but that I was creative? No, that would not be one of them! I was going to do a flag this year, because I was inspired by Carly and <a href="http://www.wildfeathersvintage.com/" target="_blank">Fran</a>, but wasn't able to because Grandma got sick and really between visiting her and our friends visit, I had no time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So let me tell you how precious these two "flags" that were made for me are. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The miraculous twins of my friends (who have suffered miscarriages themselves) made these beautiful 'flags' for me and shared with me on social media. B wrote a lovely passage about the need to break the taboo on speaking of our dead children, and used these powerful words when talking about the two lives she'd lost to miscarriages: "<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">Those are two lives lost. And those lives weren't taken so that other lives would be born. They were taken for reason beyond us. Beyond our realm of thinking."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">So.much.yes! </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">It is a fact that had Matthew survived, we would not done another IVF cycle so quickly. Heck, based on his birth injuries, we may never done another cycle. It's pretty much a fact that Luke would not live if Matthew had survived.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">And while I really do, if for no other reasons but those backed by properties of physics, believe that everything happens for a reason, it is not ours to say why.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"><br />My faith and my beliefs are not really a big secret. If you read this blog or my articles on <a href="http://www.stillstandingmag.com/" target="_blank">Still Standing</a> or follow me on Facebook or Instagram (God help you if you follow me on Twitter or Pinterest because I am CLUELESS as to how to use either)--you have a good idea of who I am and what I believe.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">I bristle every time I see this quote: "If God tells you, 'No,' it's because He has something better planned for you."</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"><br />Really, friends. I'm a Christian, for Pete's sake, and if someone were to tell me that to answer why the response to my DESPERATE prayer to keep Matthew alive was, "No," I think I'd go on ahead and just leave the church. <i>Surely, </i>I'd leave <i>that</i> friendship. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"><br />I understand that we feel like we have to have reasons for things. I AM *that* girl. But there are simply some things that are beyond our understanding, and when people try to comprehend that which is incomprehensible?</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">Well, that's when you see me check out. Smile and nod, but bite my teeth and think, "You have no clue. You just don't."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">Luke is amazing. He is wonderful. I know I am biased, but seriously, he is truly an extraordinary little boy and I don't even have the words to describe the joy he brings to my life.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">But he is not, not, not, not, NOT under any circumstances the "Something Better" God had planned when He told me, "No, Matthew will not live." Say those words out loud. Then try being me and reconciling that concept.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">The last sentence of the passage I read in the ceremony says that GRACE has allowed me to clarify my purpose in life and rediscover the wonder of the present moment. You can better believe that I cherish the wonder of the present moment. I will fiercely protect and cling to this beautiful, messy, sorrow-woven life that I am so grateful to live, and am able to do so because I just.won't.allow people to attempt to explain the unexplainable to me.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"><br />I beg of you who read...especially those of faith. Don't try to do that to others, either. While intentions are probably good, and there is power in sharing Jesus's love with a hug, a good cry, toilet scrubbing, meal making, grocery buying, grass cutting or an assortment of other things grieving parents may need but probably won't ask for, <i>don't </i>try to reason the unreasonable.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"><br />Years later, if they seem 'better' and 'normal' and 'happy', don't ask them, "But see, wasn't it all worth it?"</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"><br />Because I promise you, if they are at a place where Grace and gratitude sustain them, they fought long and hard to get there. Their footing there wobbles regularly as they are desperately trying to balance between the life they lost and the beautiful life they celebrate.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"><br />Celebrate with them. Remember with them. Cry with them. Laugh with them. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">Leave that which is beyond our understanding out of it. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;">You have no idea what a special gift that will be.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-53941424002160924312014-08-17T15:55:00.001-04:002014-08-17T18:51:46.828-04:00What I've Learned About Death...and Love<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsEjx_8mt6cs7Yszh4lv2x003dfIqfj5q2E8R-nhyphenhyphenzUeiD5fNPIifnYZK-z5R5TN9iK5udV52NlbkjweYSVcy_rcKBOihlH1BVFnqrsgFWY4xkbdJuWJ96whBYYPKHUK1GQztBfGNWpnA/s1600/DSC_0047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsEjx_8mt6cs7Yszh4lv2x003dfIqfj5q2E8R-nhyphenhyphenzUeiD5fNPIifnYZK-z5R5TN9iK5udV52NlbkjweYSVcy_rcKBOihlH1BVFnqrsgFWY4xkbdJuWJ96whBYYPKHUK1GQztBfGNWpnA/s1600/DSC_0047.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a>You know what?<br />
<br />
There is just no good time to die. Period.<br />
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I always bristle because people will say of the elderly who pass, "Well, at least they had a long, good life." (Oh, how I hate any sentence that starts with, "At least...")<br />
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The truth is, the dead don't really care one way or the other, do they?<br />
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It's those of us who are left behind to live without them that really suffer. Miss them. Wish we could give them that one.last.hug.<br />
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No matter what, death stings. Becomes embedded in a part of your heart that isn't really ever the same after. By the grace of God, that part doesn't have to win, nor does it have to destroy you, but man...It sure does put up a good battle sometimes.<br />
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And whether death is a shock and surprise, or was expected and prayed for to come peacefully, it brings tears.<br />
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Tears of sorrow for what will be no more, but hopefully, tears of gratitude for what was and you were privileged enough to be a part of.<br />
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Over 25 years ago, I was given a very special gift. It came in an unusual way, and still probably today makes people scratch their heads, but reminds me regularly that loving someone does not require the sharing of blood or DNA. I was given a "bonus family."<br />
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For over half my life, I have had the privilege of calling two very special people "Mom" and "Dad" and they've treated me as their own daughter. As extra bonus, I've gotten to call a very precious woman "Grandma" for just as long. They all love Luke, and he <i><b>adores</b></i> them. For the past three years, we've lived near enough to visit often, and I've been thankful for the relationship that Luke has been able to share in. <br />
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Grandma was 91 on her last birthday. Up until just about a month ago, she was still as sharp as ever, always commenting on Facebook (ALL CAPS, ha ha) and spoiling.Luke.rotten. Whenever we'd visit, she'd give him candy and a bag of coins. It didn't take but one visit for Luke to realize that "Grandma 'Neider" was a great gal and that he and she would be very good friends! For a period, when Luke would ask for something in a store and I'd ask him if he had any money, he'd reply, "Grandma 'Neider money!" <br />
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Earlier last week, I hastily packed Luke up and he and I flew up to visit her. She'd been diagnosed with dementia, and hospice had been called in. There was no telling how much longer she had, but her ability to remember people was fading quickly and I wanted her to know we were there. When we last saw her in June before we moved here, I promised her I'd bring Luke back to visit her for her birthday in November. When we got there last week, though not entirely clear in her thinking, she very much remembered I'd promised that, but was glad I was there then. Several times she told me she was glad I came. Several times she talked about Luke and was able to recognize him and smile at some silly antic. Several times I was given a most precious gift in hearing her tell me that she loved me. Without question, she knew us and remembered us, even though if not all the time.<br />
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I'd hesitated in going so quickly. Since May, Luke and I have not slept in the same place for more than 11 days in a row. We had friends coming in this week, and John picked us ALL up from the airport as Luke and I returned from Myrtle Beach. Life has been chaotic, and I thought it might be best to wait until yesterday to go.<br />
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She passed away very early this morning. In just a few days, her health declined so, so rapidly. She went from asking me to have a cup of coffee with her on Monday to Heaven five days later. I am so glad I decided to go when I did. Instead of looking at this week with regret, I am now forever able to look at her last days as a gift. Selfish, I know, because really, going was more for me than anyone else, but still...a gift. I've had a lot of thoughts rambling in my head this week about how much of a blessing it is to be there in those last, sacred days. That may sound weird, and maybe a little morbid, but it's not. Holding her hand, hugging her...massaging her hands and feet and helping fix her hair so she still felt like as much herself as she could? Just plain grateful.<br />
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Knowing she had lived a long, happy life and that she would be reunited our beloved Poppy makes her passing easier, but still, <i>not easy. </i><br />
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Because death just isn't easy. Death means we can no longer make memories with our loved one, and that loss hurts and leaves us feeling lonely, regardless of how many we may have been able to make (or, sadly, not). Death of a loved one often feels like the death of<b><i> <span style="font-size: large;">love,</span> </i></b>doesn't it?<br />
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That's what it boils down to. The dead cannot actively love us anymore. <br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">But oh....how we still actively love them.</span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><br /></i></b>
Today, I'm giving thanks for the presence of an amazing woman in our lives. Giving thanks for the selfless and abundant love that she's always shown me and giving thanks for her joyous reunion with so many she loved and had to watch leave this world before her. <br />
<br />
Today, death may claim a small victory, but I'm grateful that in the end, <i>it does not win</i>.<br />
<br />
Love <b><i><span style="font-size: large;">never</span></i></b> fails.<br />
Love <span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>always</i></b> </span>wins.<br />
<h3>
<b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">Always.</span></i></b></h3>
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<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0px !important;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-14420986882772044832014-07-21T13:06:00.002-04:002014-07-21T15:00:13.553-04:00What I Can't Come To Terms With...I picked a winner for the giveaway!! I wish EVERYONE could have one! I was happy that it was a sweet friend Amanda...Amanda constantly remembers the lives of so many special little ones who have passed and often generously passes her 'winnings' on to others. I hope, hope, HOPE she is as blessed with this win as so many have been blessed by her!<br />
<br />
We've been back in Florida now for a week. I spent the week working on eight million things we needed to do for our house in Maryland. Without detail, it is enough to say that it was expensive. On my checkbook and my heart.<br />
<br />
My heart is the one that's not so easily replenished, and yet...somehow, it always is. Typically through friends who help, friends who visit, friends who care and friends who understand. For those things I am very thankful.<br />
<br />
In most instances, I'd even say I was blessed. In fact, I almost ALWAYS say I am blessed.<br />
Blessed by friends. Blessed with Luke. Blessed with motherhood. Blessed with material things. I never say I'm lucky (unless it's bad luck, and that, I seem to have in spades!) because I don't necessarily believe in 'luck' per se. <br />
<br />
I believe things are purposed.<br />
<br />
Usually.<br />
<br />
Because here's the thing that I've been regularly wrestling with these days. I'm talking <i>several-times-a-day-regularly.</i><br />
<br />
To me, saying, "I'm blessed," is to use it in the terms of 'being divinely or supremely favored or fortunate'.<br />
<br />
And, without question, I believe that I am.<br />
<br />
But...I also think, "So does that mean that orphans are not divinely favored? Or that those who get adopted are more blessed than those who languish, even to the point of death? Those women who desperately want children but for whatever reason never get to hold them are not divinely favored? Bu Women whose husbands don't come back from war are not divinely fortunate? One baby survives NICU and another doesn't, so the family of the survivor is divinely shone upon and the other family gets the crappy leaf picture on their door and is out of favor with God?"<br />
<br />
I don't buy it. I can't. I can't buy that a God who loves us all (and the Bible is very clear that He does) picks and chooses who has food on their table and who doesn't because He favors one person over another. Or decides who has running water or clothes and who doesn't because He is showering blessings on <i>them </i>(and conversely, NOT showering blessings on those who don't). Decides whose baby survives and whose doesn't because He favors one family but shuns the other?<br />
<br />
Obviously, it's not as black and white as that, but on the same token, it sort of is. Why does one woman get 'gifted' with several children and another with none? Or maybe worse, dead ones? The one with many children? Calls herself blessed. The one with none? Probably not as easy for her to say that.<br />
<br />
<i><b>I just don't know.</b></i> And, I know there are no good answers on this side of Heaven either.<br />
<br />
But, I DO know this: I am no more special than any person on this planet. And that I live in a country where things are SO abundant and easily accessible is, to me, luck. Purposed, no question, and a blessing to me, yes....but NOT because I am more favored than someone else. I find myself more and more uncomfortable saying that I am 'blessed' because I do not ever want to give the impression that I deserve more than anyone else; I certainly don't. I have a pool in my backyard. Children all over the world don't even have water to DRINK, for crying out loud....and my kid PLAYS in a pool of it. Daily. My heart rejoices for the sheer 'blessing' of it but aches for those less fortunate and 'favored' than we are.<br />
<br />
So I don't know what to say. I am grateful, I can definitely say that. Very, very, very thankful.<br />
But to say that I am blessed because of things I have and that others are not because of the very same things they <i>don't have</i> seems sort of like a quiet way of saying that God gives me more (or less) because He loves (favors) me more (or less).<br />
<br />
And that's very hard for me to wrap my head around these days.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-52249387308198933982014-07-14T09:34:00.002-04:002014-07-14T09:34:33.017-04:00Jewelry Keepsakes Review and Giveaway! Friends.<br />
I won’t lie. <br />
<br />
Often I hear about the lessons I’ve learned or the friends I’ve made as a result of Matthew (and Trey) dying as blessings to me. And, they are.
But I’d never, never, never ask for those events to preface <i>any</i> lesson or <i>any</i> friendship, regardless of the greatness thereof.<br />
<br />
However, life being as it is, I also readily admit that the blessings I’ve been given post-loss experiences are so.abundant. SO abundant. And I am very grateful.<br />
<br />
One of those has been THIS amazing charm a precious company sent me to review.
First, you should know that the personal touch of this company is <i><b>unreal.</b></i> After Matthew died, I bought a beautiful charm with his footprint etched in, and couldn’t believe the compassion and personal work with that company.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdos69bhPtDhwqhc2bw1gOApN49jAiehb2pbHoRGnR7ObQUg5uvX-Zhv3B8j7LOTRZhTEFQGWDIt6l-R1jtm1y-sJP0_leCnnOSEjFmEVWoOtZYEyavkJCYZypOLkZSORQAg5TEMVzCVE/s1600/DSC_0021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdos69bhPtDhwqhc2bw1gOApN49jAiehb2pbHoRGnR7ObQUg5uvX-Zhv3B8j7LOTRZhTEFQGWDIt6l-R1jtm1y-sJP0_leCnnOSEjFmEVWoOtZYEyavkJCYZypOLkZSORQAg5TEMVzCVE/s1600/DSC_0021.jpg" height="640" width="424" /></a></div>
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<br />
<a href="http://www.jewelrykeepsakes.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Jewelry Keepsakes</a> is another company that does the same—has <i>real</i> people with<i> real</i> hearts working with you and for you as you memorialize your most priceless pictures and pieces of your heart. My representative through the selection and order process was amazing, and bonus? Became a friend! Like a “we’d probably get into a lot of trouble together if we lived in the same place kind of friend”! I can’t tell you how important it is when ordering memorial jewelry that you work with someone who cares and sympathizes.
Not to mention, creates BEAUTIFUL jewelry at such reasonable prices. I sent them my favorite picture of Matthew from our precious Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep photographs and cried upon receipt. <br />
<br />
Cried at how beautiful that baby was and how beautifully and carefully his image was on this silver circle I am so blessed to wear on my neck. <br />
<br />
We visited Matthew's resting spot in Maryland before we left. The last time we were there was December, and seeing as where we live now is a good 16-17 hours away, this weekend was probably the last time we will visit in a while. There, we did what we could do at a grave...dusted away the dirt on the stone; tried to move the phlox so we could see the verse. We took pictures, and for a minute I thought, "Why? Why am I taking pictures at my dead son's grave?" More, I wondered why I was trying to insist my three-year-old-who-just-could-not-understand be reflective and somber when that is so.against.what.his.spirit.is.like. I told John that I didn't even know why I took pictures like that because half the time (more like most of the time), they sit on my computer...devastating if they were ever lost, yet very, very rarely ever reviewed or used.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZTg1Wpdufdnl8GJySU1xnhAHBWpPeF5sfzWYSJlsR9NSHdMaa1q53qigj5GdYUPsUsgPC9OrP3kkJU2HpPH4zuBG9kFAeTZjeckC8f6LxgkqFKJqlc6c5ghN7nsnJDtVLEUsmx680Cnw/s1600/DSC_0008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZTg1Wpdufdnl8GJySU1xnhAHBWpPeF5sfzWYSJlsR9NSHdMaa1q53qigj5GdYUPsUsgPC9OrP3kkJU2HpPH4zuBG9kFAeTZjeckC8f6LxgkqFKJqlc6c5ghN7nsnJDtVLEUsmx680Cnw/s1600/DSC_0008.jpg" height="640" width="424" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
But...I take them because <i style="font-weight: bold;">it is all I can do. </i>I take pictures of just about everything I can because if ever in real life the memory makers are stolen from me, <b>I'll.have.pictures.</b> Pictures are priceless.<br />
<br />
So, when a company does something so beautiful with them...I can't help but be grateful.<br />
Just, grateful. I’m so busy with a million things these days, and I don’t get to do as many reviews as I have offers, but I have to say—this is precious to me, and I have no doubt, will be to you as well. In fact, for many, many years, I have wondered what to do with the ashes in my mother's urn. I know now. And, remember that amazing picture of Luke and John watching a sunset? Yeah, an amazing keychain for Daddy too. Though Jewelry Keepsakes focuses on remembrance jewelry, there is <b>so much</b> more available.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.jewelrykeepsakes.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Jewelry Keepsakes</a> is offering a charm to be given away to one of you, and is also generously offering a 10% discount if you use the code ALWAYS on their site...as in ALWAYS a mother. Their idea.
Priceless, right?<br />
<br />
The giveaway will last until Thursday, and I’ll announce the winner. Should you choose to purchase one of your own with their discount, be sure to thank them for their sacred work. We don’t get to keep much of our loved ones when they depart.
<a href="http://www.jewelrykeepsakes.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Jewelry Keepsakes</a> helps us keep as we can, in a beautiful way, and that is an invaluable gift.<br />
<a class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/c9092e4/" id="rc-c9092e4" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="//widget.rafflecopter.com/load.js"></script>
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px !important;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-14290802509471202272014-06-30T16:32:00.001-04:002014-06-30T16:32:06.277-04:00Always Doing Maryland...Funny, isn't it? Lori Does Maryland?<br />
<br />That was supposed to be a very sarcastic title. When we moved from North Carolina to Maryland, I was not happy.<br />
<br />I liked North Carolina. No, I <i><b>loved</b></i> North Carolina. I did not want to move.<br />
<br />And, growing up in NoVA (Northern Virginia for all of you not-so-lucky-enough-to-be-from-there), my mentality was always, "Why cross the Woodrow Wilson if you didn't have to?"<br />
<br />So, Lori Does Maryland was my attempt at 'navigating' that new and different military assignment. I mean, really, I'd never even heard of Test Pilot School. <br />
Yes, I realize I am a poor, poor excuse for a pilot's wife.<br />
<br />
I didn't bother changing it when we moved back to North Carolina. Contrary to the, "Test Pilot School is a career killer and you'll never leave Maryland," flung at us all the time, we DID leave Maryland and TPS was certainly NOT a career killer. And though, enough had happened in my life that made me think I never, ever wanted to leave Maryland again, I was happy that if I HAD to move, it was back to North Carolina. Safe. Familiar. A fun two (ahem, three)-year vacation! <br />
<br />
And it was. It was also supposed to lead us back to Maryland...where me "doing" Maryland would again be applicable.<br /><br />But it's not. We have moved to Jupiter, Florida. A crazy, unheard of, totally not-on-our-radar job that is a really great opportunity for John and a very different one for me. No military base. No military community. Thankfully, a few people I know and love, and that helps, but otherwise? Totally, totally far from any comfort zone. <br />
<br />I.so.love.comfort.zones.<br />
<br />
A few weeks ago, we came back to Maryland to clean out our storage space. THREE years of storing stuff and I realized I could have BOUGHT everything in that storage shed new already! We were only here (I say here because I am currently typing this from Maryland...John has some work and I am able to visit with friends!) for a day and a half, and it was a whirlwind trip.<br />
<br />
It was also the first time since we've left that I did NOT visit Matthew's grave whenever we came back to Maryland.<br />
<br />It stung. I told myself that we'd be back in a few weeks and Luke had been such a trooper traveling and I didn't even have any flowers...all excuses.<br />
<br />
The reality was that I just didn't want to cry. I knew I would if I went and I didn't want to cry. I was already dealing with an emotional little boy who didn't want to leave the only home he really knew (North Carolina) and trying to tell myself that jumping into the total unknown was going to be GOOD for me...but really, I was overwhelmed with emotions that I've not had in several years.<br />
<br />I cried as we passed the hospital. I cried as we passed the funeral home. I cried as I walked in the baby aisle at Target. I cried as I drove into our neighborhood. I cried when I drove into our driveway.<br />
<br />I was all cried out.<br />
<br />I told John that several years ago, I didn't want to move, but God knew better. I don't think people really understand that when I went back to Shady Grove, Matthew had died only 3 months before. When I got pregnant with Luke? He'd only been dead five months.<br />
<br />Five months is all I had to grieve. To process. To breathe.<br />
<br />Five months. I know that it's nearly been five YEARS now...but I feel like I only had five months to do some really hard griefwork and then? I was lucky enough to get pregnant again and lived joyfully every second for my sweet little Luke. When we moved? It was as if God was saying, "You need to go away. Go and see how sweet life can be. Let me show you that happiness still is yours. Go. Go away. When you are strong enough, I'll bring you back and you can continue growing as you live, breathe and grieve. You just aren't strong enough now."<br />
<br />
He was right. I wasn't. The last three years in North Carolina have been nothing short of amazing. Amazing relationships and adventures and mostly? Balm for my heart. North Carolina is where my sweet little third son's heart beat for most of his life...and for the last time. North Carolina reminded me that the life I live is so extreme--extreme joy and extreme sorrow--but that they both coexist because they've become part of me. Ask anyone. I'm pretty complex.<br />
<br />
Moving to Florida was a surprise, though. And still...when cleaning out the storage space, I heard it. Loud and clear. "You'll come back here. Just not now. You're not strong enough yet. You've done well. I'm pleased that you are working your way back to FULLY trusting me. I understand you're not there. I understand why. I understand you need more time. I'm giving it to you. Take it. Use it. Grow with it. Look for the opportunities I'm going to give you. Grow. Enjoy. Heal. And then, come back...bravely. With more strength and courage and determination than you've ever had.<br />
<br />Because you'll need it."<br />
<br />
I feel like I've been lucky enough to not have constant triggers in my day-to-day life. Moving has allowed me space and the pleasure of living in a pseudo-sort of denial and I won't lie. I'm grateful. It's allowed me to grieve at my own pace and in my own reasoning without being FORCED into things because I couldn't escape landmarks or people or whatever.<br />
<br />And I feel like I've been given two more years to get stronger. Braver. More ready to deal with things that I only had a mere five months to deal with when Matthew died. I realize that by the time we move back to Maryland, he'll have been gone nearly seven, maybe eight years...to many, for me to do griefwork or face things I've been able to avoid for years will seem very odd.<br />
<br />As if I've not moved on. Or will be dwelling. Or whatever.<br />
<br />No matter.<br />
<br />Moving out of comfort zones has also given me some pretty thick skin. People can think whatever they want to of me. I don't really care.<br />
<br />
I know what strength is. I know from where it comes. And, if I'm being given it in the form of a few more years away from things my heart may be too weak to deal with right now? <br />
<br />
Taking it. Not feeling one.bit.guilty, either.<br />
<br />
So, while I considered changing the name to just "Lori Does," I'm holding off. Because no matter where I am....trust me. I'm always, always, always 'doing' Maryland.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-19514039374540965272014-03-25T23:18:00.000-04:002014-03-25T23:18:22.976-04:00Peace That Surpasses Understanding...Honestly, I don't think it is a secret that I'm sappy. But, I really get overwhelmed sometimes with how many messages and texts and emails I've been getting these last few months. I mean, truly, there is gratitude that I am not sure conveys when I tell people, "Thank you for thinking of me."<br />
<br />
I mean it, though. I am very thankful for so much kindness and support. So much so that I also feel a level of guilt because there is such an outpouring of concern for me...and I don't feel that I'm necessarily in as much need.<br />
<br />
Really. I feel great. (Ha ha, amazing what medicine can do, isn't it?)<br />
<br />
I do. I am FINALLY feeling more back to normal health...sometimes you just don't even realize how poorly you felt until you feel better and look back. I think that's been a big factor in just having this cloud hang over my head this year. When you feel sick, everything seems more dreary.<br />
<br />
Which is not to say that we've not had our challenges lately. We have.<br />
<br />
I have.<br />
<br />
And there have been times where I just kept begging for a break. A breather. Just <i>something</i> to be easy.<br />
<br />
I hate that in that begging, what IS easy gets buried. <br />
There is <b><i>so much easy</i></b> in my life.<br />
<br />
Just mine for the taking if I just remember to realize it. All the time.<br />
<br />
I purposely have NOT been googling much about all this cancer/cyst/estrogen reactive/genetic risk factors/mastectomy situation <i>stuff</i> because the decisions I need to make are too big for me to have water muddied by Dr. Google.<br />
<br />
I choose health care so that I can trust my providers. If you can't trust your providers, you need to find new ones. I am thankful that I have access to excellent care. And, I'm thankful that I have had multiple opinions with various bits of information and perspective.<br />
<br />
I had the MRI yesterday. Perhaps I should have googled <i>that</i> a bit more. I had no idea what to expect. I just figured it was kind of like a CT scan, and I have had lots of those.<br />
<br />
Sorta. It was sorta like a CT scan.<br />
<br />
I didn't realize there'd be need for an IV for contrast ( I don't love IVs) and I didn't realize it would be so tight. <br />
<br />
I'm a <i>smidgen</i> claustrophobic. Plus, I had to lay on my stomach, and I (much like Luke) sort of choke when my neck is strained just so.<br />
<br />
Like it was yesterday.<br />
<br />
The nurse told me that they had a fabulous high-tech machine, but the downfall of it was that it was loud. (I'm still thinking that whirring, engine sound like in CT scans, but louder.) The tech asked me if I wanted music (couldn't be too loud if you could hear music, right?) and I said, "Sure." She asked me what kind I liked to listen to and I answered, "Ummmm...Christian? Or Motown? Whatever you've got." <br />
<br />
And I climbed on. Got positioned. Started freaking a little bit, but kept my cool. Got the headphones on and heard Hillsong United singing Oceans (Where Feet May Fail). Thought, "Ok. I can do this...don't love it, but I can do it. Keep swallowing."<br />
<br />
Then I went in. I lifted my head and realized I <i>couldn't</i> lift my head. Freaked out a bit more. Started to tear up, but the tech said I was doing great and the first scan would start....<br />
<br />
Enter, in my head, the LOUDEST alarm-like sound I've heard in a long time. It scared the mess out of me. It's not this whirring noise...it's this horrible, loud, crazy scary alarm-like thing and I freaked out. It lasted about a minute (or eight hours, hard to tell) and then I was asked how I was.<br />
<br />
I said, "Um, is it going to be like that the whole time?"<br />
<br />
You can guess the answer. <br />
<br />
So, while they kept saying they could take their time, and maybe I could get a xanax, I just said, "No. I need to get home. I'm tough. I'll do this." <br />
<br />
I closed my eyes and just started praying. Prayed for God to take the fear. Prayed for God to give me peace. Prayed to stop shaking and crying.<br />
<br />
Then it started again. This time, the volume of the music was louder, and I could hear the song.<br />
<br />
"One Thing Remains" by Jesus Culture started. This song came out right before Matthew's 1st birthday. I was about 32 weeks with Luke, and remember feeling the lyrics in my soul:<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Higher than the mountains that I face</span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">Stronger than the power of the grave<br style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 1em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" />Constant through the trial and the change</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">One thing… Remains..."</span><br />
<br />
I started crying. What were the odds that a song that was over several years old and so special to me would be played at the very minute I'm crying because I am afraid?<br />
Instantly, I felt less afraid and started singing. <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">"On and on and on and on it goes</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"><br style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 1em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">It overwhelms and satisfies my soul</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;"><br style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 1em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">And I never, ever, have to be afraid</span><br style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 1em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px;">One thing remains"</span><br />
<br />
Then...as if <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">that </span>wasn't big enough for me, the next song came on: "That's What Faith Can Do" by Kutless.<br />
<br />
Y'all. <a href="http://loridoesmd.blogspot.com/2009/12/faith.html" target="_blank"> I wrote about this song </a>and what it meant to me a little over a month after Matthew died. Wrote how I was begging God to help me because I was desperately trying to survive my broken heart and glorify God and couldn't He just help me out some? I just reread t<a href="http://loridoesmd.blogspot.com/2009/12/faith.html" target="_blank">hat post. </a> Sometimes I just have no words for the awe.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><strong><span style="font-size: 17px;">"I’ve seen dreams that move the mountains<br />Hope that doesn’t ever end<br />Even when the sky is falling<br />And I’ve seen miracles just happen<br />Silent prayers get answered<br />Broken hearts become brand new</span></strong></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arimo; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><strong><span style="font-size: 17px;">That’s what faith can do."</span></strong></span><br />
<br />
I spent the next 15 minutes or so crying. In gratitude.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">With.no.fear.</span><br />
<br />
I know we have a lot going on. I know there are lots of unknowns and circumstances that aren't ideal and things I wish I had more certainty in.<br />
<br />
But I am at such peace about everything. <br />
<br />
Houses are rented. We'll find <i>somewhere</i> to live. I do not believe for one second that MRI or any blood work is going to come up with anything that says cancer, and I have no reservations, whatsoever, about holding off on a mastectomy and watching for a bit longer. We have food in crazy amounts, so much water that Luke <i>plays</i> in it all the time, and though I complain about the size of this house—it's ginormous in world standards.<br />
<br />
It may seem like there'd be a lot of turmoil in my mind (and there has been, make no mistakes), but there isn't.<br />
<br />
Not one bit.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-90681125343699879502014-03-23T17:19:00.003-04:002014-03-23T17:19:52.778-04:00Gratitude In The Storm...I'm sure many are familiar with "Praise You In This Storm" by Casting Crowns, and if you are not, it essentially is the heart's cry of many—<br />
<br />
"And though my heart is torn...I will praise You in this storm."<br />
<br />
Lots of people who have lost children and then gone on to have subsequent children call those children "Rainbow" babies because they are like the rainbow of Promise and Healing and Redemption after a turbulent storm.<br />
<br />
Without question, Luke is all of those things in the aftermath of losing our Matthew. <br />
<br />
And, I did go right back to church after Matthew died. Less than two weeks after he died, I sat in Sunday School and participated in the current study we were doing: Why Do Bad Things Happen To Good People? I tried to keep it together while the room was really, really heavy with grief and awkward glances at us; people wondering how in the world we were even functioning, much less able to talk about how bad things could happen to 'good' people. Answering questions like, "Has anything ever happened that you begged God could be different?"<br />
<br />
Yeah. Ummmmmmmm.......<br />
<br />
But I should be honest. I don't think I was doing much praising. I was sure as heck in a storm; of that, there was no doubt. And, I went to church. I smiled when people told me they could see God working in us and through us, and I listened to NOTHING but Christian music around the clock.<br />
<br />
I didn't praise, though.<br />
<br />
I mean, I praised God for Matthew. For a perfect process from IVF consultation to the last minute before John told me he'd gone. I'd spent nearly ten months of bliss and I was finally a mother, and my son was beautiful and I *did* praise God for that. I praised Him for the support we had. I praised Him for the medical care I had. I praised Him for those things.<br />
<br />
I didn't praise for the situation, though. I did not praise Him for Matthew's death. I did not praise for a lot of things, and I vowed I never, ever would.<br />
<br />
This mother's heart could not possibly be expected to praise God for a coffin.<br />
<br />
I don't know that I will ever be able to do that. If I do, I can guarantee, it will not be of my own doing. My heart is a very different heart, but it is still the heart of a Mama.<br />
<br />
<br />
How abundantly blessed I am has been so much at the forefront of every thought I've had lately. I'm doing a new Bible study by Jen Hatmaker (Interrupted) and I love it. Did you know that if you make $50k or more a year, you are in the top ONE PERCENT of the WORLD's wealthiest people???? <br />
Truly, I am so blessed. If you are reading this, using Internet, my guess is that you are so blessed too.<br />
<br />
I <i>used</i> to hope my gravestone said, "She had impeccable manners and adored good grammar!" and now? Just one word.<br />
<br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Grateful.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></i></b>
"She was so grateful."<br />
<br />
These last few months have been crazy. We've had a HORRIBLE experience with tenants that has been a major stress on our finances, but more on my heart. To be taken advantage of—and I'm talking REALLY taken advantage of—hurts, and in lots of ways. Me, John, Luke....our family. It's been awful.<br />
<br />
My sinus surgery recovery didn't go so fabulously. In the healing, I ended up with a sinus infection, double-ear infection AND walking pneumonia!!! For the last month, I've really just felt MISERABLE. (Which is par for the course in March, because I can't think of a birthday in the last few years that hasn't been riddled with some sort of icky.)<br />
<br />
We are looking at a move in a little over two months and there is no forwarding address yet, and that is driving.me.nuts!!!!! The rental area in West Palm Beach is hot, and we won't get anything until right before we head down in June. Not to mention people are more concerned about John having a pick-up truck than they are dogs! Crazy, right?<br />
<br />
My appointment at Duke earlier this month really didn't give me anything new but perspective. They agreed with all that's been done before, but before they recommended mastectomy, they felt I should do some more genetic testing and have an MRI. That's scheduled for tomorrow. <br />
<br />
Unless the genetic testing comes up with something new, I've pretty much decided that I'm going to just continue to be really watchful in the next few months and year. It's very easy to say I'd "get rid of them" before faced with the reality of doing just that...and as much as well-intentioned people say "Hey, now you can get a perfect set!" it's just not that easy.<br />
<br />
Reconstructive surgery is a lot, lot, lot more than I thought it was. And, very different than augmentation.<br />
<br />
In any event, what I've prayed for in all of this was peace. A clear, decisive answer of what I should do. No doctor has given me that yet, but still—I have peace. I feel 100% comfortable with waiting and watching some. I'm not ruling out a mastectomy if things change or come up, but for now? I'm completely, completely confident in that decision and so is the specialist I am seeing at Duke. In her words, "You've had a lot of things happen in your life that would make you expect the worst because the worst happens. I understand if you feel you need to do this. But, I want you to feel secure in knowing that it's not always the worst, either."<br />
<br />
I believe that. It's not always the worst.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>It's not.</b></span><br />
<br />
So, people have been so kind—emails and texts and messages and calls—just checking in and telling me, "Man, you totally need a break!"<br />
<br />
I want to say, "Right????? I mean, seriously! I'm getting a bit tired of all of this!"<br />
<br />
But I can't. Because as tired as I am....I am just grateful There are <i>so many things</i> for which I am grateful.<br />
<br />
While I definitely feel like it's been somewhat storming for a while lately—there is gratitude. <br />
<br />
And gratitude makes an amazing, amazing umbrella.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVrwCO6Wi8zEpGB4D5nUN5e3RZH_LZVeaNf8MyxRSOxXV86pxZhxnP2-pZwkjNz1m9Xdyj4hW9g-WYO1v9EwpBKqyx7RfdEol9CrZ0vqmEFDmPhyPJ-aWiNXOKWSnf6FZTCBvgw2pLwM/s1600/DSC_0107.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVrwCO6Wi8zEpGB4D5nUN5e3RZH_LZVeaNf8MyxRSOxXV86pxZhxnP2-pZwkjNz1m9Xdyj4hW9g-WYO1v9EwpBKqyx7RfdEol9CrZ0vqmEFDmPhyPJ-aWiNXOKWSnf6FZTCBvgw2pLwM/s1600/DSC_0107.jpg" height="400" width="265" /></a></div>
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-58866905150809614852014-03-05T15:16:00.003-05:002014-03-05T15:16:58.762-05:00Normal and Anonymous...It.is.just.not.meant.to.be.<br />
<br />
As I cried to a precious friend about just wanting to be "Normal and Anonymous," she said:<br />
<br />
"Lori. You are never going to be normal and anonymous because it is not <i><b>who you are</b></i>. You are fabulous and fantastic. People look at you and think you are strong and amazing."<br />
<br />
This humbles me more than I can express...even more so because I am doing a pretty great Bible study and the other day, the focus was on realizing that God made me to be <b>exactly.who.I.am.</b> We always think about our personality and character traits as gifts given, but we rarely see who God made us to be physically as strong gifts as well.<br />
<br />
I mean, let's be real. 4'11", crazy frizzy hair and humongous mouth...strong gifts? A broken body that <i><b>looks</b></i> fabulously fertile (again, even more amazement at this since I'm almost 41) but has lost more children than it has kept? Purposed?<br />
<br />
Yes. Even me.<br />
<br />
My ovaries and endometrium look great. No masses, no cancer, no nothing. I was sort of disappointed because I was hoping to hear, "You need a hysterectomy," and then would not need to keep thinking about a mastectomy. I know that sounds horrible, but in my mind, taking ovaries out is kin to taking tonsils out, while taking breasts off? A big difference. (And please...obviously I know it's more than taking tonsils out. I am STILL recovering from that blasted sinus surgery I had nearly a MONTH ago!)<br />
<br />
I did not realize, however, that though removing my ovaries would take my estrogen away and lower my breast cancer risk, doing so would also increase (significantly, because of family history) my risk of heart disease, and that's the number one cause of death for women in America. According to my doctor, there's less physical trauma to the body with an ovariectomy than mastectomy, but an added inherent health risk (heart disease) that does not exist with removing breasts.<br />
<br />
He essentially said my risks are significant and I get to pick which I want to deal with. Breast cancer or heart disease?<br />
<br />
Isn't there an option C? <br />
<br />
As I told this to my friend, she mentioned how this day and age offers <b>so.much.support</b> for women—so many women who have gone through mastectomies and so many support groups for women as they face all that comes with them. <br />
<br />
I agreed. <br />
<br />
<i><b>I am just tired.</b></i><br />
<br />
I am tired of reaching out. I am tired of needing support. (But please, please, please don't confuse that with not being grateful for it. I am so grateful.)<br />
<br />
I just want to be normal and anonymous. <br />
<br />
But since I'm not, and apparently made that way, I press on.<br />
<br />
I go for a third opinion on Monday. It's at Duke and then I guess I'll make some decisions. I'm not likely to hear anything different; risk assessments are pretty formulated. I'm hoping that this doctor will be the one who just tells me what to do instead of tells me I need to do something.<br />
<br />
I know I need to do something. I recognize that I cannot spend every month wondering if this time, the lump(s) is cancer.<br />
<br />
I also know that 'chopping' them off is not as easy as it sounds, and 'getting a new, improved set' is a LOT more of a process than people think. More than I ever thought.<br />
<br />
Either way...'normal' just isn't in the cards, is it?<br />
<br />
You'd think I'd totally learned that by now....<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-84591818128498933062014-02-06T17:25:00.001-05:002014-02-06T17:25:19.014-05:00Getting Real About Fear When You've Been The One.So look.<br />
<br />
I know, I know, I know, I KNOW we are told not to be afraid.<br />
<br />
I know it is futile to worry about things out of our control.<br />
<br />
I know that stress and anxiety steal joy.<br />
<br />
I <i><b>KNOW.</b></i><br />
<br />
But I am afraid.<br />
<br />
All the time. Every day. Every second. <br />
<br />
I am afraid that something terrible is going to happen to Luke or John and I just.can't.bear the thought of picking out another casket.<br />
<br />
That said, (and before any judgement on why I am not being faithful, a good Christian, being pessimistic, etc.,)—————<br />
<br />
I work very, very, very hard to LIVE as if I am NOT afraid. When Matthew died, I made a strongly purposed decision to not let fear guide my life. I would NOT let fear dictate my decisions or steal anything more than had already been stolen. When pregnant with Luke, I refused to let terror or fear overshadow my joy. When pregnant with Trey, same thing.<br />
<br />
Outcomes different, but my attitude the same.<br />
<br />
Afraid I may have<i> <b>felt,</b></i> but BOLD AND BRAVE was how I chose to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><b>live.</b></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span>
I still make that choice—the choice to live like I am not afraid—every single day. Every hour. Every minute.<br />
<br />
Friends—it is NOT easy. As a Christian, I hear and sing songs and read words ALL.THE.TIME about not being afraid. Not being anxious. Relying on God to rescue and heal and save.<br />
<br />
I, without question, believe He does. A lot.<br />
<br />
But I know, within the depths of my soul, that I could sing and read those words every day of the week and twice on Sundays and I will still be afraid.<br />
<br />
Because when you've been on the end of Him not <i>rescuing</i>...not <i>saving</i>...not <i>healing</i>????<br />
<br />
You know that every situation has two outcomes, regardless of how much you pray and beg and plead. <br />
<br />
We all have to make our peace. I've made mine with God. I know that trusting Him and having faith does not always mean the outcome will be the one I want. I know that hearing "No." on a job offer or state to move to or relationship to pursue is VERY different than hearing, "No, your children will not live." and while it's not mine to compare grief and loss, I feel like God and I are at a good place of understanding.<br />
<br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I understand that I will never know, and He knows that I will never understand. </span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<span class="Apple-style-span">So I don't ask. There's no point in it for me. I believe in a God who is good and bad things that happen do not take away from His goodness.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span">The gratitude I have for the privilege of raising Luke is a constant, constant reminder of His grace.</span><br />
<br />
And I am afraid—because I know that His being good and faithful doesn't mean that bad, horrible things don't happen. Won't happen. To me or to loved ones. The thoughts terrify me because I know pain that I don't ever want to experience again.<br />
<br />
EVER.<br />
<br />
But I choose to LIVE unafraid.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow, I have surgery for my sinuses. I am excited to finally have a few months sinus infection free, but more, to have a few days of drug-induced, mandatory sleep! My eyes tell the tale of my insomnia, and even though I guess I am 'middle-aged,' I don't love looking so tired all the time. "Allergy eyes" don't help.<br />
<br />
I saw the breast surgeon a few hours ago. I left with the option to remove my right breast. The gist of the consult was that I have, based on some physical findings and risk factors (family history and IVF), close to 30% chance of acquiring breast cancer. I could be continue to be vigilant, watch the lumps I have closely and be on the look-out for more, or I could remove the breast altogether and not worry about developing cancer and possibly leaving Luke motherless. <br />
<br />
Who says stay-at-home-moms don't make exciting decisions?<br />
<br />
I asked the very respected doctor several questions, mainly whether or not removing a breast would be silly or radical and overreacting. He did not think so, on any account. To paraphrase his words, I am a young woman with a lot of living to do and a young child to raise. Taking the elevated chance of cancer away is a big decision, but one he'd certainly respect and suggest. He's left the decision in my hands, and I'm at a loss.<br />
<br />
The odds of Matthew's IVF cycle being successful were 31%. Luke's? 28%. Trey's? 23% Odds of miscarrying Trey when I did? 1:300. Matthew dying from vasa previa complications? 1:10,000. Him having one normal kidney and one pelvic kidney? 1:10,000.<br />
<br />
I've been 1:4 twice. I've been 1:3 three times. 1:300 once. 1:10,000 once.<br />
<br />
I am good at being <b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">the one.</span></i></b><br />
<br />
The one no one wants to be, that is.<br />
<br />
I have more scans and more discussion March 5. I think I will also seek a 2nd opinion, though honestly, this is not really surprising news. I was a bit surprised it was confirmed, but expected it as a possibility. After the next appointment and second opinion, I guess I'll make a decision.<br />
<br />
I do not want to make a decision based on the fear of getting cancer. But, I don't want to wonder every day if that's the day that will change my life.<br />
<br />
<i>Again.</i><br />
<br />
Totally off-topic? That's a cape I got to wear this morning. Seriously. A cape???? Luke was sooooooo jealous!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAvxJ5sGuOpsPC31JLHhTLir0JBiR4zeSJjfLA-wBn_qdqXRFy4F9OUrkQgoVUnc56Z-aVBZGejjKM1QpA3kpA5v7KGBn0c2mkjNj1oUtbjYIn5eVHt9Q2nZBj0HpLZQS1QSr0RFtlJp4/s1600/Loriwithacape.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAvxJ5sGuOpsPC31JLHhTLir0JBiR4zeSJjfLA-wBn_qdqXRFy4F9OUrkQgoVUnc56Z-aVBZGejjKM1QpA3kpA5v7KGBn0c2mkjNj1oUtbjYIn5eVHt9Q2nZBj0HpLZQS1QSr0RFtlJp4/s1600/Loriwithacape.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-10750006172417169702014-01-30T15:15:00.002-05:002014-01-30T15:15:43.210-05:00Yo Yummy???? SOOOOO Yummy!Y'all know how picky Luke is.<br />
<br />
Rather, how *resistant* he is. I don't think it's fair to call a child who sees a therapist for sensory food aversion 'picky.' <br />
<br />
He is not willfully being disobedient. When a kid won't try candy or something sweet? Not willful. Or picky. <br />
<br />
Something else entirely. And therapy has done a WORLD of good. He tries things now. Sometimes on his own; sometimes because I tell him he needs to. But still, he tries, and that is so much progress.<br />
<br />
He still does not want things on his fingers or mouth, though. He won't eat without "a wipe" (wet washcloth) and dabs his face or fingers after EVERY bite. Now that he is trying more, we are noticing more aversion to the texture of things. He's much more willing to try, but then he starts gagging (something he never did before) because of the textures of new and different things. Basically, continued exposure and desensitization will help that, but it's a slow process.<br />
<br />
So HOW EXCITED was I to try a new yogurt product? He loves yogurt. It has always been one of his staples, even when he'd only eat maybe three things. But, he's never been too much a fan of the yogurt on mouth. He likes yogurt tubes, but around here, it's not always easy to find them without all the sugar and dyes and such. <br />
<br />
Ta Da! Introducing to our lives <a href="http://www.yoyummykids.com/" target="_blank">YO YUMMY! </a> I am part of an awesome <a href="http://www.greenmomsmeet.com/" target="_blank">Moms group</a>, Moms Meet, and we get the opportunities to sample and share things with friends. I jumped on the chance to let Luke try these yogurt pouches and I am SO glad I did. They have 10% less sugar than most 'kids' yogurts out there and NO dyes and NO high fructose corn syrup (seriously...why even use that stuff????). Each pouch has more protein than even the awesome organic brand I pretty much exclusively buy and best of all??? <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Luke LOVES them. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLQZsW2qOfW6e9ON_K0gWIC01O-ArUrzfBCyAdIEQIglkFtGJ7KPIiY9uYiHh8aQdMytU4YLnikWsx1nFKiDFl2-46U2ezmVBrXp_ZixkwjDOkwOo7_T8sGc87B52TPuunLJEf-wwoHS4/s1600/DSC_0009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLQZsW2qOfW6e9ON_K0gWIC01O-ArUrzfBCyAdIEQIglkFtGJ7KPIiY9uYiHh8aQdMytU4YLnikWsx1nFKiDFl2-46U2ezmVBrXp_ZixkwjDOkwOo7_T8sGc87B52TPuunLJEf-wwoHS4/s1600/DSC_0009.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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LOVES them. He loves all flavors I got to sample, and always immediately asks for another when he finishes one. He likes that he can eat yogurt from a pouch, and therefore make far, far less mess. PERFECT for him! I like that they are a dairy farm in Vermont and though it's not organic, they only use rBST free milk from their OWN dairy farm. <br />
<br />
The only thing I don't love is that they aren't easy enough for me to buy (yet)...for now, some of my favorite (but not-so-near) places carry them: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Wegman’s, Costco, Hannaford, Stew Leonard’s, Fresh & Easy, and Sprout’s Farmer Markets. </span><br />
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My hope is that the locations will continue to grow, but honestly, even though our nearest Costco is over an hour away, these will be on our list to go for—Luke likes them that much. If you are near any of these stores, and have the opportunity, I'd definitely try them out. Sometimes, when I do reviews of things, I am hesitant because I worry about how to be kind if I don't like something or find value in it.<br />
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TOTALLY not the situation here! SO, YoYummy, thanks for the opportunity to try something we think is AWESOME! <br />
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Come to more stores, closer to me! And fast!<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">***I received this product for free from the sponsor of the Moms Meet<span style="font: 5.0px Helvetica;">SM </span>program, May Media Group LLC, who received it directly from the manufacturer. As a Moms Meets<span style="font: 5.0px Helvetica;">SM </span>blogger, I agreed to use this product and post my opinion on my blog. My opinions do not necessarily reflect the opinions of May Media Group LLC or the manufacturer of the product.</span></div>
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<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-13123002432560470542014-01-22T14:35:00.000-05:002014-01-22T14:35:30.012-05:00On Maintaining A Happy Face...I got the results of the node biopsy last week. As predicted, they were "Non-cancerous. Benign alternatives all within normal limits."<br />
<br />
Thankful. I posted on FB because I was just so grateful! One big thing down, one to go...sort of.<br />
<br />
Well, I posted too soon. Later that morning, I got a call from radiology about something on the mammogram that required more imaging and then got a letter too just to reiterate that in further studying, etc., there may be more to look at. Awesome. I've not gone back for another mammogram because next week, I see an amazing surgeon and he will be the decider of what to do with the "We're not sure what that lump is but it doesn't look like cancer," lump. Speaking to my OB again today, he reiterated his happiness that I was seeing the surgeon and told me to be prepared for him to want to take a better look at it.<br />
<br />
Prepared used to be my middle name.<br />
<br />
I went in for my pelvic ultrasound this morning, to be followed by an endometrial biopsy. (Seriously, tons of fun.) The tech was nice and as often happens pretty much any time I am laying on an ultrasound table, looking at the ceiling and hearing the whoosh-whoosh of prenatal heartbeats nearby, tears slowly came out of the corners of my eyes.<br />
<br />
I couldn't help it. I cannot count how many times I've been on a table like that. Praying. Rejoicing. Pleading. Sobbing. <br />
<br />
No matter how far away from infertility and loss I feel like I get...I am always reminded that I'll NEVER get away from it.<br />
<br />
Never.<br />
<br />
So, as she's looking and telling me how fabulously fertile I look, and sharing her sorrow over "my story", she tells me that the endometrial lining looks great. I saw the coveted triple stripe that sooooo many IVF gals are looking for at transfer time, and 4 dominant follicles. Yep. Totally, totally look like (and have blood work to prove) a gal with the fertility of a 30-year-old.<br />
<br />
Except I'm not.<br />
<br />
My pain has been primarily one-sided. She spent a lot of time there, but didn't say much, so I didn't figure there was anything going on. Then, after, I said, "Well, if the endometrium looks good, maybe he won't want to do a biopsy, right?"<br />
<br />
She said, "Probably not on the endometrium, no. But...there's something going on with your right ovary. He's probably going to want more testing."<br />
<br />
I nervously told her, "Well, at least I know I wasn't crazy and this pain wasn't fake!"<br />
<br />
She sort of fidgeted and smiled and then asked if I needed any tissues.<br />
<br />
That does not sound very encouraging, does it? It didn't to me, either. <br />
<br />
I went back into the waiting room to wait on the doctor. The HUGE, very filled with happy-pregnant-people, waiting room and just bit my lip to hold back the tears. I wasn't necessarily afraid; just anxious...and I felt very, very small.<br />
<br />
I looked around. I try not to be jealous. I am blessed beyond measure. I try not to let what-will-not-be steal any joy of what-is-right-now. I try to be grateful for all I have instead of wistful for what I've lost. I try not to let bitterness and anger over how I should have a house full of little boys cloud the unimaginable joy that I have in one amazing Threenager who calls me Mama.<br />
<br />
But friends, it.is.hard.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">IT IS HARD!</span><br />
<br />
I want to scream that sometimes. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> IT IS HARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!</span><br />
<br />
Attitudes, in my opinion, are choice-based. I choose joy or peace or happiness over depression, anxiety and anger.<br />
<br />
I think, though, sometimes it is forgotten how difficult those choices are. How gut-wrenching infertility and loss can make someone feel and how deep a valley they have to come from just to get to those 'choices'.<br />
<br />
I'm not looking for pats on the back. I do NOTHING in this world without the grace of God. NOTHING. But for His grace and provision of support in friends and outlets and healing through my sweet Luke? <br />
<br />
I'd have let myself die off a long time ago. <br />
<br />
But the pull to go the other way is strong sometimes...to just throw myself into the natural inclination, which right now for me is, "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" and still, I feel guilty even saying that because I'm not even sure about what it is I'm being kidded. The pull to break down and cry is just pretty strong.<br />
<br />
So I did a bit today. And am now. And feel better for doing so.<br />
<br />
When Luke wakes up from nap, I'll go right back to the Mama he knows and loves—silly, giggly, wildly-in-love-with-him Mama and he'll not have a clue that I had a little pity party for myself.<br />
<br />
And we will have Krispy Kreme donuts. Because seriously, they make my kid (and me) smile.<br />
<br />
Grateful.<br />
<br />
As for what the doctor said...essentially, he does not think the cysts found are cancerous, but took some blood and wants me to come back in 6 weeks for another pelvic ultrasound. Given my mother's and sister's history, he said that I'm valid in being concerned about cancer. Given MY history of PCOS and ovarian cysts, he feels pretty confident that it'll be ok but he wants to be sure since I've been having pain. He feels the pain (gut-busting!) is probably residual scar tissue from surgeries and endometriosis and he still wants to do an endometrial biopsy but will wait for 6 weeks so as not to put me through it today and compare ultrasound findings from today with 6 weeks' time. He is a really great doctor. Said he wished he could be more comforting but for now, odds are this is all just vigilance but if there is cancer or whatever, it's very early and things should be just fine. I feel that way too. I am not going to really rest too easily for the next 6 weeks, BUT...I do feel like whatever is going on is not something huge. Then again...if you know me in real life, or have read this blog long enough....you know how *great* my gut instinct is, don't you?<br />
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<br />
Oh, hey, did I mention I'm having sinus surgery in two weeks?<br />
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You know...because I just like a few more things on my plate....<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-8170524225256999912014-01-09T18:04:00.000-05:002014-01-09T18:04:01.920-05:00Guess It Went Well...Wow. Way to make a girl feel loved! Thank you all for thoughts and prayers. I honestly feel pretty ashamed of myself for alarming anyone before I knew what was going on, so forgive me. I just got home. There is a small (3mm) cyst they found not by mammogram but with ultrasound. (Apparently, I have the breast tissue of a 20 year old—which means DENSE—and will now always have an annual ultrasound with mammogram. Who knew? A new law was just passed that requires breast tissue density to be scored **true to my nature, I am at the TOP of the charts!** so that people can know whether a mammogram may miss something. I'm one of those that a mammogram missed. Is there any way to know it was there in October when I had my annual mammogram? No. There isn't. But, I don't think it was. I'm very, very, very vigilant in self-checks. The lump I found at the end of December was sizable and new. It's shrunk (a good sign) but still there. And, according to the radiologist, doesn't look like cancer but he is not sure what it looks like. Fun, right? Always one to keep them guessing....<br />
<br />
The lymph nodes are still swollen but look normal. I didn't (and still don't) know what swollen nodes feel like, apparently. A bit disconcerting. Still, the radiologist did not recommend biopsy but left it to my doctor.<br />
<br />
My doctor wanted biopsy.<br />
<br />
He said if I was just a gal with all this and had done IVF, he'd probably not biopsy.<br />
<br />
If I was just a gal with all this and a mother who had died of breast cancer, he'd probably not biopsy.<br />
<br />
But, since I'm a gal whose mother died of estrogen receptive breast cancer, and I've pumped my body in loads and loads with the very stuff that probably killed her?<br />
<br />
He isn't taking chances. I'm with him. He feels confident the results will come back negative (a couple of days) but is still puzzled by the mass...could be fibroid, could be benign cyst, could be mild duct back clog (did you KNOW that existed?????)...could (and probably is) just a quirky little part of me.<br />
<br />
So, I feel pretty confident it's fine. I have to follow up with the oncologist surgeon on the 29th and recheck with mammogram and ultrasound in 3 months (or sooner if more lumps or pain in nodes) but I'm sure it's going to be fine.<br />
<br />
I'm a bit more concerned about the 22nd and the endometrial biopsy, but even still...if it turns out to be something (and with a couple of c-sections, a few laparoscopies and endometriosis in my bag of tricks, could be a ton of other things!) serious, it's early. And there are a lot of things that can be done.<br />
<br />
Sooooo....again, thank you for all of the love and well wishes and prayers and good thoughts. I really do feel a bit like I threw a big temper tantrum anyway by throwing it all out on FB before I really knew what I was dealing with. I won't lie, though. It's really, really nice to have people rally when you are scared.<br />
<br />
And I was, a bit. <br />
<br />
So thank you, thank you. <br />
More to come as I learn it...<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-59609220610838146122014-01-08T15:21:00.001-05:002014-01-08T20:02:02.448-05:00Temper Tantrums Flare, But Gratitude WinsSo.<br />
<br />
Right after Christmas, I found a lump. It scared me because it was much bigger than the <a href="http://loridoesmd.blogspot.com/2012/10/a-pregnancy-test-in-perspective.html" target="_blank">one I found in October of 2012.</a> Similar area, but much bigger. I called the doctor and because of the holidays, yesterday was the earliest I could get in. It's shrunk since then, so I almost canceled the appointment and didn't waste my time...figuring it was fibroscystic breast disease, which is fairly common.<br />
<br />
I went, expecting him to tell me it was nothing. He did not. He said it was very different, and he was concerned because I also had lymph nodes swollen. I had no idea. My mother's initial breast cancer started with swollen lymph nodes as symptomatic, but back then, it was chalked up to a virus. <br />
<br />
My doctor said that may be the case here, but given history and IVF, he wasn't taking any chances. I am scheduled for a mammogram and ultrasound, as well as biopsy of the nodes tomorrow. He wanted it done quickly. I'm never fond of that urgency. It doesn't usually pan out well for me.<br />
<br />
We also discussed some other symptoms I've been having recently. I'm going to be 41 in a few months, and I did have endometriosis, so I just assumed the issues were age/hormone related. He said that normally, he'd say they were, but he was concerned again because of my history, my family history (mother -breast and sister- ovarian cancers) and the IVF. He did a pelvic check and found a mass. More appointment scheduling. His words were, "I wish I could tell you I wasn't looking for endometrial cancer, but I am."<br />
<br />
Well, okay then.<br />
<br />
IVF is an old, new technology. While it's been around for 35 years, just now are we able to have any long-term studies (ha ha, 35 years is long-term?) done on the effects on women. Some are fairly encouraging, but most say that it's still too early to tell. The important take-homes for me are that women with unexplained infertility (me) who undergo IVF (me) have higher risks of uterine/ovarion/endometrial cancers. Throw in my mom's oncologist telling me (a month before she died) that I should NEVER do hormone replacement therapy, (and IVF might as well be that times on a million) and well....I'm not finding the irony of any of this funny.<br />
<br />
I had a choice in doing fertility treatments. If I did, I had children.<br />
<br />
Granted, 2/3 of whom I don't even get to raise, but that's another bitter post.<br />
<br />
If I did, I had children. Apparently, I also risked leaving any said children motherless. No, the irony is not humorous to me at all.<br />
<br />
So, that's it in a nutshell. I have a MILLION other things that are BIG news. Okay, not a million, but several. <br />
<br />
We are moving. Not back to Maryland, either.<br />
<br />
John will have a new job.<br />
<br />
I have a new job.<br />
<br />
Luke, over the course of just a few days, has transitioned to a toddler bed, given up the boppy (paci) and been dry in the morning regularly. He turned three and seemed to turn into a BOY all of a sudden. <br />
<br />
There are more things in the fire and more I want to do.<br />
<br />
But now—things stand still as I wait. I'm sure it'll all be fine. Then again, I've heard that before in a lot of things.<br />
<br />
When you've had it NOT be fine? Repeatedly?<br />
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Little comfort.<br />
<br />
That said, I am trying to not be angry, as is my natural inclination right now. I want to be very angry. I was yesterday, but honestly, today, just cannot justify it. I have a great life, great things to come, and *if* anything should come of this, odds are it really will be just fine. I wanted to throw a temper tantrum yesterday.<br />
<br />
Today, I remember that I am grateful. And gratitude always wins.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-40585360219638270112013-11-30T22:25:00.000-05:002013-11-30T22:25:21.138-05:00Looking For Some Awesome Holiday Gifts? A Giveaway!While I have pretty much <i>written things </i>for about as long as I could write, I don't know that I'd have considered myself a <i>writer.</i><br />
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But, one of the fabulous perks of others <i>reading</i> about what I write means that I often get the chance to sample some pretty cool family-oriented things and tell you about them.<br />
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One such opportunity was presented when an AMAZING box of books appeared at my door, waiting to be opened and perused. Being in the classroom for as many years as I have, I am very familiar with the impressive quality and content in National Geographic books. In fact, my classroom libraries (and now, Luke's personal library) have always been filled with some really rich and interesting Nat Geo books I've bought through the years.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH6eWgZLEVHRsZ5LYHyMKblAUJf1VbGKjNzJBun2XdXw7fPsTvdSF5dbXY5kfPWTpT8Wht9ppaskDug6C4heRepJpz9OvY-WgwlM9qQp1TbC9rZS3RRl-110BXHGJ7i_VcGcjWWRUZFhY/s1600/DSC_0068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH6eWgZLEVHRsZ5LYHyMKblAUJf1VbGKjNzJBun2XdXw7fPsTvdSF5dbXY5kfPWTpT8Wht9ppaskDug6C4heRepJpz9OvY-WgwlM9qQp1TbC9rZS3RRl-110BXHGJ7i_VcGcjWWRUZFhY/s400/DSC_0068.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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I was super, super excited to see what Luke thought, though cool as they were, I had to wrestle a few away from daddy first!<br />
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Most of the books I received for sampling are a bit older than Luke's age range, but that did not stop my little bookworm from digging right in. "Mama, can I look at that squirrel book?" (what he called the book about Meerkats) and "Ooooh, look, Mama! Donees!" (what he said about the picture of a donut on the First Big Book of Why book) came peppered at me as he grabbed the books with the zeal that does a teacher's/Mama's heart proud. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1XiKGfvtRaNCq356Z1LiP5U_OpUzLAxabXj1S_12UUU0-DRlIopfj6Cx75eeP3f0ENTLpF-eUbBJv0zqDAsGpnxHBjtlLVE6dPJwN6ZIuneB50VcPKMO6j5ezV9Fv2x3dcsl-0KmMSrw/s1600/DSC_0047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1XiKGfvtRaNCq356Z1LiP5U_OpUzLAxabXj1S_12UUU0-DRlIopfj6Cx75eeP3f0ENTLpF-eUbBJv0zqDAsGpnxHBjtlLVE6dPJwN6ZIuneB50VcPKMO6j5ezV9Fv2x3dcsl-0KmMSrw/s320/DSC_0047.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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After I read him the Meerkats book and we talked about them (and how they are NOT squirrels), Daddy got back in the picture and he and Luke looked through the First Big Book of Why. It is a REALLY cool book. Big, bright colors and short enough little excerpts that allow a Mama or a Daddy to offer as a piece of information to a little guy or gal and a great talking point for older kids. </div>
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John said, "This book is really cool because it has stuff Luke and I can talk about," and I agreed. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ILcUWH0xHi_aevm99t25e9Gv6KoP8Xn-ZqZYpzeNm4wwWFlIJkYHePdtuhA8kmSmMWQx3DXO5jyNQlqS1RbXoZ9c7PN91iTyRduQmymQKqn-9AyLZAfNcyCVbjYWzsYYixTFQ6uTNcA/s1600/DSC_0051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ILcUWH0xHi_aevm99t25e9Gv6KoP8Xn-ZqZYpzeNm4wwWFlIJkYHePdtuhA8kmSmMWQx3DXO5jyNQlqS1RbXoZ9c7PN91iTyRduQmymQKqn-9AyLZAfNcyCVbjYWzsYYixTFQ6uTNcA/s400/DSC_0051.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
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Luke also really dug the Everything Pets book and I nearly teared up as he opened one of the first pages and began, "Once upon a time, there was a kitty cat who needed his Mama." </div>
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Not only was my sweet boy utilizing some fine pre-reading/writing skills (if I say so myself!) but he reminded me how he has such a tender heart! <br />
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Speaking of tender-heart...there were two books that tugged at mine. As a dog lover, the Devoted book just made me give the pups some extra loving, and reminded me how much more enriched my life has been with dogs in it. The Mother's Love book...true stories about moms in the animal kingdom? Yeah. Do.not.read.unless.you.have.tissues.and.want.to.learn.about.the.sweetest.mothers.on.the.planet. Seriously, again, though a bit older for Luke, this book is a coffee-table/stocking-stuffer kind of book that I think every mother on this planet can appreciate and relate to. Just really touching.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the things found in the Mother's Love book...so, so, so, so true.</td></tr>
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From the parent perspective, I love having some fascinating non-fiction to share with Luke, even if above reading level. I think kids will soak up what you throw at them, and several of these books have already proven to be entertaining, educational and permanent parts of our bedroom library.<br />
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From a teacher perspective, I had no idea that Nat Geo even had something like the Funny Fill-In book (a mad-libs type book that is sure to inspire even the most reluctant writer to forage into descriptive words and writing) or the Just Joking book. I can, without question guarantee that the joke book will be a hit with elementary/early middle school kids everywhere. This is the type of book that all the kids fight over when it is free reading time, and then beg you to take home for the afternoon because they want to keep reading it. I cannot wait until Luke is a bit older and we can share jokes like in this adorable book!<br />
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The best thing about buying National Geographic books is that profits from sales help go into conservation, exploration, research and education programs. Pretty much a win-win. Even better, if you check them out at ngbooks.org/momsmeet, you can find these and lots more on sale for 30% off! (Seriously, they are sooooooo reasonably priced! Hellooooo, holiday shopping!) Best yet, because they were such awesome books, I am giving one of the books away—simply enter the rafflecopter and if you win, you will get to choose between Best Friends Forever (cute early chapter book about animal friends) or the Funny Fill-In book. Win-win-win!<br />
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Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-61106080476624516882013-11-29T20:00:00.002-05:002013-11-29T20:00:20.134-05:00On Black Friday....<a href="http://stillstandingmag.com/2013/11/real-black-friday/">http://stillstandingmag.com/2013/11/real-black-friday/</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/117/CFC9626C1EA31625561CA86CB53F499C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>Lorihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01828552745708177768noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2273909430922264674.post-45319100112790353632013-11-26T15:57:00.002-05:002013-11-26T15:57:51.454-05:00What Happens In Four Years...Four years ago, I was BEYOND ready to give birth. Not that I'd not enjoyed being pregnant or wasn't BEYOND grateful to be so, but because my 'little turkey' was overdue already and the symptoms of preeclampsia we weren't aware of were taking their toll.<br />
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You can see...I was ready.<br />
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But I was thankful. So, so, so thankful. An excerpt from that night's post:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">"There are so many things I have to be thankful for this year...even as I sit waiting for Matthew to make his debut, and am admittedly a little nervous about what labor is going be like, I am thankful that I have had the blessing of pregnancy--something I basically thought was never going to happen. Mom and I were talking last night about how different this time of year is than we thought it would be. We never in our wildest dreams imagined that we wouldn't have a little baby girl eating her first Thanksgiving dinner with us and we certainly didn't imagine that we would be waiting for a chubby-cheeked little baby boy to decide he was going to come out after all.</span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b2a13; font-family: Trebuchet, 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold; line-height: 27px;">Again, Lord, thank you for your many, many blessings."</span><br />
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How could I ever, ever have known that not only would I not have a little baby girl eating her first Thanksgiving dinner with us, but the following year would not include the chubby-cheeked little baby boy who was born just two days later?<br />
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I honestly do not know how four years has gone by. I look at Luke and can't believe that he's nearly THREE...but I remember the details of these days four years ago so.vividly.<br />
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I remember with a heaving chest and a knot in my throat that I just can't seem to swallow.<br />
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That night, laughing about how Matthew had already outgrown an outfit and he wasn't even born yet, I decided to look and see if his birthday could ever be Thanksgiving Day. I looked at years and years ahead and basically figured out that unless Matthew was born that day or the next, he'd never have a birthday on Thanksgiving. I'd thought that was kind of good and kind of sad...good that he'd never have to share his special day but sad because if there was ever anything in the whole.entire.world that we in our family would be thankful for, it would certainly be John Matthew Ennis!!!!<br />
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Whether I just misfigured or was just suffering pregnancy brain, I was wrong! Matthew's birthday IS Thanksgiving this year. <br />
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It's hitting me very sharply. Maybe because I never thought it would actually be on Thanksgiving Day, and after he passed, I was SO glad I'd never have sit a table recounting my blessings as I should have been helping my little boy blow out birthday candles. Maybe because it reminds me of how naive I was...how silly I was figuring out things about his birth when I should have just been on my knees 24-7 praying I got to bring him home and raise him.<br />
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Maybe it's just because no matter how much time passes, I will never <i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">not</span></b></i> miss him. Never not ache for him and wonder what life would be like with him and his brothers. Never not wish that it was different and that he'd lived.<br />
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Never.<br />
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So, what happens in four years? Nothing and everything.<br />
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Because while my heart aches particularly deeper this year, it is also filled with so much joy and gratitude. There is this little boy...a precocious two-year old who proudly tells everybody that he's a 'free-nager' (threenager; he overheard me talking with a friend, little stinker!)...who calls me Mama and tells me he loves me "the whole world" and calls his Batman slippers his 'Datman slip-flops'; is a hilarious prankster and actually ate bok choy for dinner the other night...he makes me smile and he fills every.single.day with fun and laughter. <br />
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My heart is overwhelmed with Thanksgiving for his life and his place in our family. Just overwhelmed.<br />
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