Dear Lord,

Please forgive me for the angry words and thoughts I have had in my head this evening. Please take them away and help me to remember that only YOU know my heart and only YOU know my every thought. Please help me to honestly and truly forgive the person who felt the need to leave a very mean-spirited and judgmental comment to what I last wrote. Please help take away the biting, sarcastic words I want to throw back with lightning speed. Please, please, please, let these words simply disappear from my memory as I forgive the person who wrote them. Please help me remember that she truly cannot believe that I enjoy feeling depressed and want attention, and that though her saying so is cruel and unwarranted, you know the truth of my heart.

Lord, please bless “Anonymous” as she must have some intense hurts and issues that she felt the need to project to me. Please remind her, gently, that she has no idea what my relationship with John is like, nor has she EVER been in my shoes as I am the only one who walks them each day. Though she and I may share something similar in life experience, Lord I ask that you gently remind her that was she actually to walk in my shoes, she’d know just how cutting and undeserved her words were.

Lord, you know how grateful I am for the miracle of a new life you have again entrusted to me. I pray that I will never let the words of others prevent me from sharing my thoughts and my heart with my child.

And most importantly, Lord, if this is NOT a stranger…as I somehow suspect because I can’t imagine how she can say she can look into John’s face and see his hurt, or see that I am hurting him because I am all about me….I pray with every inch of my heart that if they have the courage to present themselves to me that I will immediately and sincerely embrace them in forgiveness.

This is not an easy prayer for me to make, Lord, and one I make in faith that you will take the hurt in my heart and use it for your glory in this person’s life.

Lord, thank you for the gifts of gentle people in my life...and thank you for helping me realize that if I DO radiate happiness, it is only through your grace and your mercy.

In your most Heavenly and Precious name I ask these things,
Amen

A gentle word turns away wrath, but harsh words stir up anger. Proverbs 15:1

Love your neighbor as yourself. Luke 10:27

Missing my boy....

...and just aggravated in general that people feel they have the right to tell others where they 'should be' or 'are' in any process...especially the 'grieving process.'

I've often said I hate that term because it is not a PROCESS. It's a new way of life.

Most days now, I am able to see losing Matthew as my cross to bear.

I know we all have ours.

I just wonder why mine seems so much heavier than others? Why does mine seem like it's made of concrete and others are tissue paper? Why does mine have to last THE REST OF MY LIFE and others are temporary?

If you know of anyone who has lost someone precious in their life, and are grieving, please, do them a favor....BACK OFF telling them what stage they are in or where they should be.

EVERY SINGLE DAY I go through:

SHOCK--HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN with all the monitoring I had?
DENIAL--This CANNOT be my life.
PAIN--Physical and emotional. Heart-stopping and blood-curdling.
GUILT--WHY did I change my mind????? WHY didn't I think about what if we needed a NICU?
ANGER--WHY make me wait patiently for over 10 years, get me to the finish line and THEN break my heart???????
BARGAINING--I will raise this child to be a pastor if you just let THIS ONE live...
DEPRESSION--Every time I look at his bedroom door. Or visit the cemetery. Or look at his pictures. Or remember him wiggling after chocolate shakes. Or think of his daddy holding him as he died. Or regret I never saw his face alive. I could go on and on and on....
REFLECTION--What has become of me? What will become of me? What if something happens to John? How will I survive losing this one?
LONELINESS--Who wants to constantly talk about dead babies? It's much easier to just tell me I need to move on.
TURNING UP--This new life is so joyful for us.
RECONSTRUCTION--How do the old me and the new me fit together?? Who even wants to know or cares?
ACCEPTANCE--Matthew is dead. He's not coming back. Got it. Still kills me.

I will never, ever, for the rest of my life, have another PERFECT MOMENT...One where I wouldn't change a thing.

EVERY DAY I go through those things...often multiple times a day.

And will for the rest of my life.

And am pretty sure any mother who has lost a child does also and will also.

And that's OK because it's reality.

It's not something that a textbook can tell one how it ought to be and "POOF" it's all eventually worked out.

It's what I and many others wake up to and deal with and fall asleep to every single day.

FOR THE REST OF OUR LIVES.

So please, give some of those poor mothers a break...

Judging from some recent blogs and FB statuses, they could really use it.

Some days, so could I.

Every day...missing my son.

Miney's First OB Visit...

...went very well. (S)he had an ultrasound (Seriously, if I had an extra $8K and a license to use one of those handheld ultrasounds, I'd be ON THAT!) with Dr. Polko and baby was waving!!!! It really is amazing to see the growth in just a few weeks...from a little diamond ring to a little gummi bear to a little gummi bear that waves at me!! Miraculous, pure and simple. The heartbeat was good and strong and all looked great. Miney's measuring maybe a day or two behind, but that doesn't stress me anymore. I'm small and in looking back at most of Matthew's ultrasounds, he was measuring a week or two behind constantly. How that was happening with those long legs of his, I don't know, but he was...and he was perfect, so this little one measuring a day or two off is not a big deal.

I loved seeing this baby wiggle around. I cannot wait until I can feel that wiggling.

I miss Matthew wiggling like that.

It was so bittersweet to see his picture on the wall, but I was glad it was there. He really was a beautiful little boy, if I say so myself.

Seriously, I just wish I had a way to express to the people who take care of me how much I appreciate them and love them. I spent the entire night threading conversation together in my head to have with Dr. Polko as I explained what a basket case I was and solicited suggestions. She anticipated my basket-case-ness and said it was fully expected, but that she was not worried. I used to think that doctors who didn't worry would not necessarily be prepared to react appropriately when the need for worry popped up and have since learned that is NOT the case--they've just learned not to worry until they have to...and then to spring into action with full force. Lessons I need.

We talked about how I really am very, very lucky in my "What ifs?" in that I really only have two--What if I had stayed with the C-section plan and what if we were in a NICU and Matthew could have had a transfusion sooner. She agreed that those were both "what ifs?" they they too have pondered.

No difference...those questions, like so many others I have, are futile.

I'll see them every two weeks and Dr. Sweeney every two weeks and with that schedule, I'll be seeing someone every week. I feel very comfortable with that and will be even more comfortable when the heartbeat is easier to find and I can do it more at home.

She wants me to take care of myself and do things to try and relax me and keep me happy. I think she's worried about depression, and I can see why since I cried and cried there.

I have to say, most days, my life has lots of depression. I am sad. I am heartbroken. I miss my baby and waver back and forth between realizing that this is the cross I have to bear and begging God to let me wake up and this was all a dream. My heart is heavy with grief for the precious little boy I long to hold but never will.

And I know I have to press on. It just takes a lot of energy to do and I've been short on that lately. Dr. Polko's not worried about my weight loss (down to 95--5 pounds lighter since I've gotten pregnant) but said if the nausea got worse, she could always prescribe medicine. I'd really like to stay away from any unnecessary medicine, so as long as she's not worried, I'm not either.

All in all, as lovely a visit as could be. I brought fresh white chocolate chip macadamia cookies but see Dr. Shonekan next time so I'll have to bring something even more chocolatey! All is well with little girl or boy and he or she was moving all around. (Probably wondering why I hadn't eaten breakfast!)

Thank God for the people who take care of us.

Can't Sleep...

In a few hours, I have to get up because John and I are driving to New York to help cousin Andi move down to Baltimore for grad school! We're very excited she'll be closer.

John got home today and was really surprised at how much I'm showing already. Seriously, it's crazy. Dr. Shonekan said that you show sooner with the second pregnancy. She's not kidding. We went up to bed early, in anticipation of our early wake-up, but I have not been able to sleep. I'm glad I'll have some sleep time tomorrow in the car.

There's so much on my mind.

I am terrified. Nothing more to say about that.

Funny how I titled my last post "Hard Day" and could easily do that today as well.

For different reasons. Days that make me truly get on my knees and thank God for His goodness are hard days too, and today was no exception.

I went to visit my friends at Labor and Delivery. I wanted to take them some goodies during Nurses Week, but that was right after the transfer, and before Mother's Day, and honestly, I didn't think I had the strength to do it.

So today, armed with a bowl of chocolate (and minus the stupid lemon bars that you just don't want to ask about), I went.

I had to take a couple of deep breaths in the elevator on the way up.

When I got there, the doors were open as someone else was walking in before me, and the first thing I see is the cutest girl at the front desk whispering to someone, "She's here! She's here!"

Talk about feeling like a rock star!

I walked in, sat my bowl down, and signed in. Instantly, I was enveloped.

And I cried.

Such bittersweet tears! Joy, joy, joy about this new little life I have! Sorrow, sorrow, sorrow over the sweet little life I lost...as many of those precious women lost him with me.

Honestly and truly, there is a tiny piece of Heaven God has placed on this earth, and it's in that Labor and Delivery wing. How else could such a collection of angels exist??

We hugged and talked and laughed and cried. They gave us a wonderful gift card for which they'd like to have a bench and placard for Matthew's grave. Their compassion is overwhelming.

They helped me remember things I didn't, and in doing so, made me realize that I'm going to have to write about all I remember from that night soon.

They shared their excitement and joy for us, and just lifted my heart.

As we walked out to leave (yes, escorted right to my car!!!), I got one last thing...

Rather, Matthew did.

They played--just for Matthew--his lullaby.

My Matthew got his song.

And there is no one on this earth that can possibly understand what that meant to me. I've had so, so many kind actions and gestures given in the last few months.

Hearing the song recognizing the precious birth of my son is truly one of the kindest and most generous gifts I've ever been given.

Thank you, thank you, thank you and thank you again, L&D friends. You made a mother's heavy heart beat just a little stronger today.


I also have to get this off my chest because it just keeps tossing and turning in my head. I'm feeling very irresponsible in that I need to clear some things up.

So many people tell me how strong I am.

I'm not. He is. He holds me up.

I'm told I am brave.
He tells me to be of good courage.

I'm told I'm inspirational.
I'm simply clinging to His promises.

I'm told I am amazing.
I am just a vessel.

People ask me (and I often ask myself) how I am able to do this.
I'm not. He does it for me. And through me.

People tell me I am encouraging.
I just want to bear the burdens of others, as SO MANY bear mine.

I pray every night for God not to waste my pain.
And He hasn't.

Because if people think all of those things about me, but KNOW that it is solely the grace of God that allows me to breathe from one minute to the next...

I'm humbled.

And grateful.

And blessed.

Because He Lives....

...I can face tomorrow.

I was actually not doing too bad this morning at church. Honestly, I just tried to focus on the fact that this is a remembrance of the day Christ was resurrected and defeated death. This is the day I remember because it means that one day, I'll see my loved ones again.
This is the day that promises I'll be able to tell my sweet son that I love him and to hear him tell me that he knows...he knew every second he was with me.

So, I was pretty proud of myself. Until about the last 5 minutes of the service. When we sang "Because He Lives," which is usually one of my favorite Easter Hymns. I still have been hacking away with this bronchitis-like whatever, so not necessarily a great voice rang out, but my heart was in the singing.

Until the second verse of "Because He Lives."

"How sweet to hold a newborn baby,
And feel the pride and joy he gives.
But greater still the calm assurance,
This child can face uncertain days because He lives."

I lost it. Right there, again, in the pew. I just started bawling. So much so that after that song was done and my pastor told us all to greet our neighbors, he came out from the pulpit to hug me and tell me he was sorry and he knew it was hard and he was always praying for me.

Friends, if you don't have a pastor who will do that for you in the middle (okay, end) of Easter service (one of the typical big two for a pastor, if you know what I mean), then you need to find one. Tomorrow.

I have sung that song countless times, and being Baptist, I'm sure I've sung all three verses during invitations quite a few times in my 37 years. And yet, even through years of infertility and worry about an adoption not happening, I never cried like that. I don't even think I made any association.

But today, oh....today. I did. Big time. And after my pastor came and hugged me and then went back up to the pulpit, he asked us to sing the last verse again.

And I did. I did because I am so, so thankful I will see my little boy again.

Because He lives.

I also have to say thank you to an amazing woman who I realize is having a hard time missing one of her precious children, yet so compassionate in her grieving that she thought of my little boy. Actually, she thought of a LOT of little boys and girls, and I am so amazed at the depths of mothers' hearts. Michelle, thank you so much for such a joyous little gift for me and my sweet boy. I am so humbled and appreciative.