My internet connection has been down, and I haven't felt like getting on my husband's laptop in the evenings when he's home from work until now, so sorry for my absence!
Big events coming up. Birthdays (Merika is 6 on May 5th), Graduations (two of my cousins are graduating high school!), Weddings (Yay, Jessica), Family Reunions (whoop!), and another move for our family.
I'm really sick of moving around, but I know some day we'll have a "forever home" (sounds like we're stray puppies waiting to be adopted out, right?). I am looking forward to moving even closer to my family, a hop, skip, and a jump away from my Granny, and not too far from some of my close friends. We'll still be in the Houston area, but you know how that is. You could live in NW Houston and move two hours away (say to, SE "Houston" area) and still be Houstonian. :) The "Houston Area" is quite large.
Tomorrow I'm meeting my friend Jessica in the downtown area to take her bridal portraits. I'll be sure to share them on my blog. Just pray for beautiful weather!
Tomorrow night, some friends of ours are heading our way from Louisiana and staying for the whole weekend. They have three children (4 and under), so with six kids in this household, you can bet it'll be fun and loud!
Saturday is Merikalyn's birthday party. Hard to believe she's going to be six! My brother, Chip, and I were just discussing how crazy it is! I know it's cliche, but time really does fly by.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Mending
From the outside looking in, you may wonder why some women have such a difficult time getting over a miscarriage. Why do some women seem to snap back so quickly, and others find themselves weaving their way through a maze a mourning?
Our situations and experiences are all different, and that, mixed with our personalities, create varying reactions. My husband and I have been trying for a fourth child for a year and a half. I know we are incredibly blessed to have three children, but my heart longs for more. We dream of having a large, close-knit family. All around us, our friends have been announcing pregnancies and new births, and every month, we have found ourselves without. Of course, we genuinely rejoice with our friends for the blessings God has bestowed upon them, and we wouldn't want them to withhold their wonderful news from us, but it does make me ache just a bit, as I wonder, "When will God send us another child?"
The day we found out we were expecting, I asked my husband to pick up a couple tests. I figured I was not pregnant, as my cycle had been very strange for months- ranging from 28 to 40 days long, but I figured I would take a test, just to see. I had my hopes up before, and I was sure that this test would be yet another negative. Before taking the test, I prayed. "LORD, You know my heart's desire. I don't know what Your plans are for our lives, but I pray that You would help me accept Your Will. God, I will praise Your Name, whatever the case, but I'm begging you for another baby. I will praise you whether my womb is full or empty, LORD. Just give me the strength."
So you can imagine my surprise when a positive instantly appeared on the test. I had fully prepared myself for yet another disappointment, but here it was- the answer I had hoped and prayed for! I couldn't contain my excitement! I skipped into the livingroom and excitedly showed my husband the test.
"We're pregnant! It's positive!" I exclaimed.
Still, as long as I had waited for this day, fully expecting it to eventually come, I couldn't believe it. I even told a friend, "I hope it sticks." You see, a few of my friends had recently had miscarriages, and, in the back of my mind, I wondered if I was next. I knew I had escaped the odds by having three children without a miscarriage event, but I had a feeling the odds were catching up with me.
Even so, I rejoiced and began to go through the process of finding a midwife for my prenatal care. I told some friends and anticipated telling my family, attempting to come up with a creative way to reveal my news. Easter was coming, and I figured it would be a great time to announce that we had another "egg in our nest". I even made a cute little digital scrapbooking graphic proclaiming it!
With Easter a week away, I struggled to guard the news from my parents. I really wanted to tell them, but I also really wanted to wait! The Saturday before Easter Sunday, we were in their part of town running some errands. We stopped by their condo, and I knew I just couldn't hold it any longer. I printed out my graphic from their computer (because I had saved it online) and slipped it into my mom's hands.
My parents knew we desired more children, so they were thrilled for us (although, probably questioning our sanity).
Later, when we arrived home, I noticed that I was spotting ever so lightly. I had heard about women spotting during their pregnancy, and often it was nothing major, yet I had never had this happen in my three previous pregnancies. I offered up a silent prayer to God, pleading with Him from the valley of my heart, "No, God. Please, please, please... no!"
The bleeding continued, getting heavier and darker, and I knew without a doubt I was having a miscarriage. On Easter morning, my body passed the placenta- such a small organ this early in my pregnancy. I assumed the baby was within it, until, about fifteen minutes later, I passed the baby. The baby was so tiny, but I could see the little umbilical cord stretching from the middle of it's body.
I wish I could say that I saved that little body and buried it, but in my shock, I flushed it down the toilet. Later I found that many other women had done the same- not thinking clearly, not registering what was happening or what it was.
The mourning process has been a strange one. The tears did not come. I would love to just cry and ache, get it all out, and move on, but I guess that simply isn't how it works for me. Old coping habits emerged. I didn't feel like doing much of anything. I didn't feel like cooking or baking. I didn't feel like schooling the children. I didn't feel like cleaning. I didn't feel like getting the mail or doing the laundry. You would think that I would not have cared to get out of bed, but once morning came, I was usually content to throw back the sheets and begin the day, it was just getting through the day that was difficult.
I would have loved to sit around all day, reading books, watching movies, and munching on my favorite comfort foods, most of which are loaded with sugar and possibly chocolate. I purchased a big book of Sudoku puzzles, a series of Beverly Lewis' books (Amish Country Crossroads), and a few magazines (like Weight Watchers, maybe to inspire me to choose healthier comfort foods?) so I could sit back, relax, and breathe. I wanted to escape the walls of this house, roam the malls, the stores, the town but I know myself and my leanings towards retail therapy (which we cannot afford), so I tried to stick to my books instead.
I sat down with the kids and let them run around me. I tickled them, laughed with them, and played with them. Diapers must be changed, children must be fed, life must go on.... whether I felt like functioning or not. (And I am so thankful I have three children to brighten my day, although there have been some instances that have made me want to bang my head against the wall!)
It's hard to explain what I'm feeling. I guess what I feel is let down and disappointed. I'm not angry with God. I know He has great plans for our family. It's just that I went from such a high (finally being pregnant and looking forward to inviting another child into our family) to such a devestating low. It's being on a drug and becoming addicted to it and the way it makes you feel, only to suddenly be forced to go cold turkey. That's the only way I know how to explain what I feel, and it's still a poor metaphor.
Even though I loathe the taste of most alcoholic drinks (beer tastes like I imagine pee would, and liquids like vodka or whiskey taste like peroxide or drain cleaner), I felt tempted to just drown my sorrows with a large bottle of something strong. I felt like going out, doing something wild and crazy, just to feel that high again.
Except I knew that high wouldn't last, and I knew, at the end of it, I would be sorely disappointed with myself. Man's methods cannot compete with God's blessings and joys. While I kept repeating verses to myself and reminding myself to seek my comfort in God, my human nature desperately wanted to satisfy itself, to take the reigns and fill that hole that only God can.
So many people have expressed their condolences, and often reveal that they "don't know what to say." The thing is, I don't know what to say either. When people tell us they are sorry for our loss, I often feel awkward. I'm sorry too. It stinks. It sucks! When people tell me they are proud of or amazed by how strong I have been, I think, If you only knew!
I would almost rather people come right out and ask what I am sure many of them desire to ask. Our close friends John and Ashley drove three hours to see us after they heard our news. I was thankful that I didn't have to put on a mask in front of them. I was thankful that John bravely asked, "So, what was it like? How do you feel?" Leave it to a man to throw aside the delicate wording and just come out with it! I felt like I could set aside the comforting words I feel people want to hear from me, and just speak plainly.
I mean, when people ask, "How are you doing?" I give them the same old lines. "I'm doing fine," or, "I'm okay." I'm not sure people honestly want to hear how I really feel, and I'm not sure I really want to talk about it most of the time. "How are you doing," is one of those generic sayings we ask everyone, often in place of hello, and most people give the generic answer.
One reason it's so difficult to explain how I feel is that I'm not always sure how I feel. My feelings are such a jumble of emotions and thoughts, it's hard to define them. While I am mourning the loss of a child that never made it to term, I am also mourning the loss of a dream, aching for that natural euphoria that comes with finding out you are going to have another child.
In that window of time that I was pregnant, I had already conjured up so many visions of what life would be like with the newest addition. I had pondered names for either gender, had gone through the racks of adorable little baby clothing when I was at the store, looked forward to nursing and caring for another child. I had wondered how little Keagan would get along with a younger sibling, wondered if he would be ready to switch to a "big boy bed" before the baby's arrival, imagined how the set up of the bedrooms would be since children would soon be sharing rooms.
I had wondered how the birth would go, since this would have been our second unassisted homebirth (if things went as planned, but I guess it was exactly that- a miscarriage leading to a baby birthed quickly, unassisted, in our home). I thought about the month of her birth (it could have been a boy, I know). It would have been December, and I wondered if it would have been chilly and cold, like when Nolyn was born, or unseasonably warm, like the weather had been last Winter.
I talked with a friend about slowly stocking up on diapers whenever there were sales and such. I spoke to a few midwives in search of someone to do my prenatal care. I had even looked into 3-D ultrasounds, anticipating the day when we would find out the gender. My husband and I both hoped it would be another little girl, but, of course, we would have been just as excited if it had been a boy.
I dreamed of frilly little dresses and thought back to the days of Merikalyn's infancy. I wondered if this baby would have the springy little curls I had always hoped one of my children would inherit from my husband's father.
In my mind, the baby was practically here, even though I had about seven more months of pregnancy left, and had yet to hit the most trying parts of it (like the extreme "morning" sickness I suffered through during my three previous pregnancies).
And, of course, there are the symptoms following a miscarriage that serve as a reminder of what I have lost. My body is still healing and recovering. Under normal circumstances, my body would be recovering from the labor and birth, but the joy of holding a precious baby would be worth it.
Last Sunday, exactly a week after my miscarriage, God really spoke to me through our pastor's sermon. Jerry made the comment that it was not what he had originally planned on speaking on, but God had prompted Him, so he knew there was a reason. I felt like that reason was me.
Now, I can't do it justice here, but he was reading in Luke 24, following the Resurrection of Jesus. The two Marys had returned from the tomb to find the rock rolled away and the body missing. Two men appeared before them (v 4-8) and told the women, "Why are you looking for the living among the dead? He is not here, but He has been resurrected! Remember how He spoke to you when He was still in Galilee, saying, 'The Son of Man must be betrayed in the hands of sinful men, be crucified, and rise on the third day'?"
When they returned back to their people, they reported the news to the disciples, but "these words seemed like nonsense to them, and they did not believe the women" (v11). Later, two of the disciples headed out for Emmaus, and while they walked, they argued and discussed the events. I am sure they were quite disappointed in this man called Jesus, who they believed was going to be a great earthly ruler. (Read the rest of the chapter, it's quite wonderful and will give you more of an idea of what I'm talking about here.)
Jerry pointed out that these men were walking around, sullen and disappointed, and that's how so many of us are today. We claim to believe in Christ, claim to believe in the Jesus who died and rose again, yet we don't live like it. We feel like giving up, throwing in the towel and heading home.
This is exactly how I felt, despite all the wonderful blessings I had around me. I felt like giving up. I knew God had promised us a large family, and I was questioning his promise.
In this weak time, I feel like Satan has been attacking me from all different directions. He's attempted to lure me with temptations, tried to keep my focus off of God, and just been pulling at my ankles. I think one of the biggest lies he's been feeding me is that it's okay to do whatever I want because I'm mourning, I'm hurt, and so I have an excuse.
But I was reminded that I have an excuse to live right, to lift up my head, to smile and move on, and that excuse is Jesus, the REASON is Jesus.
Jerry also said something that struck me hard. Sometimes we want to know why this and why that. We want to understand God's reasoning; we want answers. We may never know the answers to many of our questions, but we have the only true answer we need, and that is Christ.
The 139th Psalm is a comfort to me. David talks about how God is everywhere and knows everything. "Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thoughta far off. Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways. For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O LORD, thou knowest it altogether." [2-4]
I know Jesus understands my pain. He knows how I feel, and He wants to comfort me. He "gives and takes away", and is worthy of praise.
Thank you for all your notes, emails, and calls. We are so glad that we had friends who have lovingly reached out to us. We are so thankful for the strangers who had left us a note, those who have told us their stories and shared in our pain.
Some of you have asked what you can do for us, and all that I ask is that you would pray that God would strengthen us as individuals, as a couple and as a family, that He would protect our minds and hearts, and keep us focused on Him. And, maybe you could throw in a little pray Her for more children. (Smile!)
Those who know me, know that I am a very upbeat, positive person. I don't like to dwell on the "downer" things!
Our situations and experiences are all different, and that, mixed with our personalities, create varying reactions. My husband and I have been trying for a fourth child for a year and a half. I know we are incredibly blessed to have three children, but my heart longs for more. We dream of having a large, close-knit family. All around us, our friends have been announcing pregnancies and new births, and every month, we have found ourselves without. Of course, we genuinely rejoice with our friends for the blessings God has bestowed upon them, and we wouldn't want them to withhold their wonderful news from us, but it does make me ache just a bit, as I wonder, "When will God send us another child?"
The day we found out we were expecting, I asked my husband to pick up a couple tests. I figured I was not pregnant, as my cycle had been very strange for months- ranging from 28 to 40 days long, but I figured I would take a test, just to see. I had my hopes up before, and I was sure that this test would be yet another negative. Before taking the test, I prayed. "LORD, You know my heart's desire. I don't know what Your plans are for our lives, but I pray that You would help me accept Your Will. God, I will praise Your Name, whatever the case, but I'm begging you for another baby. I will praise you whether my womb is full or empty, LORD. Just give me the strength."
So you can imagine my surprise when a positive instantly appeared on the test. I had fully prepared myself for yet another disappointment, but here it was- the answer I had hoped and prayed for! I couldn't contain my excitement! I skipped into the livingroom and excitedly showed my husband the test.
"We're pregnant! It's positive!" I exclaimed.
Still, as long as I had waited for this day, fully expecting it to eventually come, I couldn't believe it. I even told a friend, "I hope it sticks." You see, a few of my friends had recently had miscarriages, and, in the back of my mind, I wondered if I was next. I knew I had escaped the odds by having three children without a miscarriage event, but I had a feeling the odds were catching up with me.
Even so, I rejoiced and began to go through the process of finding a midwife for my prenatal care. I told some friends and anticipated telling my family, attempting to come up with a creative way to reveal my news. Easter was coming, and I figured it would be a great time to announce that we had another "egg in our nest". I even made a cute little digital scrapbooking graphic proclaiming it!
With Easter a week away, I struggled to guard the news from my parents. I really wanted to tell them, but I also really wanted to wait! The Saturday before Easter Sunday, we were in their part of town running some errands. We stopped by their condo, and I knew I just couldn't hold it any longer. I printed out my graphic from their computer (because I had saved it online) and slipped it into my mom's hands.
My parents knew we desired more children, so they were thrilled for us (although, probably questioning our sanity).
Later, when we arrived home, I noticed that I was spotting ever so lightly. I had heard about women spotting during their pregnancy, and often it was nothing major, yet I had never had this happen in my three previous pregnancies. I offered up a silent prayer to God, pleading with Him from the valley of my heart, "No, God. Please, please, please... no!"
The bleeding continued, getting heavier and darker, and I knew without a doubt I was having a miscarriage. On Easter morning, my body passed the placenta- such a small organ this early in my pregnancy. I assumed the baby was within it, until, about fifteen minutes later, I passed the baby. The baby was so tiny, but I could see the little umbilical cord stretching from the middle of it's body.
I wish I could say that I saved that little body and buried it, but in my shock, I flushed it down the toilet. Later I found that many other women had done the same- not thinking clearly, not registering what was happening or what it was.
The mourning process has been a strange one. The tears did not come. I would love to just cry and ache, get it all out, and move on, but I guess that simply isn't how it works for me. Old coping habits emerged. I didn't feel like doing much of anything. I didn't feel like cooking or baking. I didn't feel like schooling the children. I didn't feel like cleaning. I didn't feel like getting the mail or doing the laundry. You would think that I would not have cared to get out of bed, but once morning came, I was usually content to throw back the sheets and begin the day, it was just getting through the day that was difficult.
I would have loved to sit around all day, reading books, watching movies, and munching on my favorite comfort foods, most of which are loaded with sugar and possibly chocolate. I purchased a big book of Sudoku puzzles, a series of Beverly Lewis' books (Amish Country Crossroads), and a few magazines (like Weight Watchers, maybe to inspire me to choose healthier comfort foods?) so I could sit back, relax, and breathe. I wanted to escape the walls of this house, roam the malls, the stores, the town but I know myself and my leanings towards retail therapy (which we cannot afford), so I tried to stick to my books instead.
I sat down with the kids and let them run around me. I tickled them, laughed with them, and played with them. Diapers must be changed, children must be fed, life must go on.... whether I felt like functioning or not. (And I am so thankful I have three children to brighten my day, although there have been some instances that have made me want to bang my head against the wall!)
It's hard to explain what I'm feeling. I guess what I feel is let down and disappointed. I'm not angry with God. I know He has great plans for our family. It's just that I went from such a high (finally being pregnant and looking forward to inviting another child into our family) to such a devestating low. It's being on a drug and becoming addicted to it and the way it makes you feel, only to suddenly be forced to go cold turkey. That's the only way I know how to explain what I feel, and it's still a poor metaphor.
Even though I loathe the taste of most alcoholic drinks (beer tastes like I imagine pee would, and liquids like vodka or whiskey taste like peroxide or drain cleaner), I felt tempted to just drown my sorrows with a large bottle of something strong. I felt like going out, doing something wild and crazy, just to feel that high again.
Except I knew that high wouldn't last, and I knew, at the end of it, I would be sorely disappointed with myself. Man's methods cannot compete with God's blessings and joys. While I kept repeating verses to myself and reminding myself to seek my comfort in God, my human nature desperately wanted to satisfy itself, to take the reigns and fill that hole that only God can.
So many people have expressed their condolences, and often reveal that they "don't know what to say." The thing is, I don't know what to say either. When people tell us they are sorry for our loss, I often feel awkward. I'm sorry too. It stinks. It sucks! When people tell me they are proud of or amazed by how strong I have been, I think, If you only knew!
I would almost rather people come right out and ask what I am sure many of them desire to ask. Our close friends John and Ashley drove three hours to see us after they heard our news. I was thankful that I didn't have to put on a mask in front of them. I was thankful that John bravely asked, "So, what was it like? How do you feel?" Leave it to a man to throw aside the delicate wording and just come out with it! I felt like I could set aside the comforting words I feel people want to hear from me, and just speak plainly.
I mean, when people ask, "How are you doing?" I give them the same old lines. "I'm doing fine," or, "I'm okay." I'm not sure people honestly want to hear how I really feel, and I'm not sure I really want to talk about it most of the time. "How are you doing," is one of those generic sayings we ask everyone, often in place of hello, and most people give the generic answer.
One reason it's so difficult to explain how I feel is that I'm not always sure how I feel. My feelings are such a jumble of emotions and thoughts, it's hard to define them. While I am mourning the loss of a child that never made it to term, I am also mourning the loss of a dream, aching for that natural euphoria that comes with finding out you are going to have another child.
In that window of time that I was pregnant, I had already conjured up so many visions of what life would be like with the newest addition. I had pondered names for either gender, had gone through the racks of adorable little baby clothing when I was at the store, looked forward to nursing and caring for another child. I had wondered how little Keagan would get along with a younger sibling, wondered if he would be ready to switch to a "big boy bed" before the baby's arrival, imagined how the set up of the bedrooms would be since children would soon be sharing rooms.
I had wondered how the birth would go, since this would have been our second unassisted homebirth (if things went as planned, but I guess it was exactly that- a miscarriage leading to a baby birthed quickly, unassisted, in our home). I thought about the month of her birth (it could have been a boy, I know). It would have been December, and I wondered if it would have been chilly and cold, like when Nolyn was born, or unseasonably warm, like the weather had been last Winter.
I talked with a friend about slowly stocking up on diapers whenever there were sales and such. I spoke to a few midwives in search of someone to do my prenatal care. I had even looked into 3-D ultrasounds, anticipating the day when we would find out the gender. My husband and I both hoped it would be another little girl, but, of course, we would have been just as excited if it had been a boy.
I dreamed of frilly little dresses and thought back to the days of Merikalyn's infancy. I wondered if this baby would have the springy little curls I had always hoped one of my children would inherit from my husband's father.
In my mind, the baby was practically here, even though I had about seven more months of pregnancy left, and had yet to hit the most trying parts of it (like the extreme "morning" sickness I suffered through during my three previous pregnancies).
And, of course, there are the symptoms following a miscarriage that serve as a reminder of what I have lost. My body is still healing and recovering. Under normal circumstances, my body would be recovering from the labor and birth, but the joy of holding a precious baby would be worth it.
Last Sunday, exactly a week after my miscarriage, God really spoke to me through our pastor's sermon. Jerry made the comment that it was not what he had originally planned on speaking on, but God had prompted Him, so he knew there was a reason. I felt like that reason was me.
Now, I can't do it justice here, but he was reading in Luke 24, following the Resurrection of Jesus. The two Marys had returned from the tomb to find the rock rolled away and the body missing. Two men appeared before them (v 4-8) and told the women, "Why are you looking for the living among the dead? He is not here, but He has been resurrected! Remember how He spoke to you when He was still in Galilee, saying, 'The Son of Man must be betrayed in the hands of sinful men, be crucified, and rise on the third day'?"
When they returned back to their people, they reported the news to the disciples, but "these words seemed like nonsense to them, and they did not believe the women" (v11). Later, two of the disciples headed out for Emmaus, and while they walked, they argued and discussed the events. I am sure they were quite disappointed in this man called Jesus, who they believed was going to be a great earthly ruler. (Read the rest of the chapter, it's quite wonderful and will give you more of an idea of what I'm talking about here.)
Jerry pointed out that these men were walking around, sullen and disappointed, and that's how so many of us are today. We claim to believe in Christ, claim to believe in the Jesus who died and rose again, yet we don't live like it. We feel like giving up, throwing in the towel and heading home.
This is exactly how I felt, despite all the wonderful blessings I had around me. I felt like giving up. I knew God had promised us a large family, and I was questioning his promise.
In this weak time, I feel like Satan has been attacking me from all different directions. He's attempted to lure me with temptations, tried to keep my focus off of God, and just been pulling at my ankles. I think one of the biggest lies he's been feeding me is that it's okay to do whatever I want because I'm mourning, I'm hurt, and so I have an excuse.
But I was reminded that I have an excuse to live right, to lift up my head, to smile and move on, and that excuse is Jesus, the REASON is Jesus.
Jerry also said something that struck me hard. Sometimes we want to know why this and why that. We want to understand God's reasoning; we want answers. We may never know the answers to many of our questions, but we have the only true answer we need, and that is Christ.
The 139th Psalm is a comfort to me. David talks about how God is everywhere and knows everything. "Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thoughta far off. Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways. For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O LORD, thou knowest it altogether." [2-4]
I know Jesus understands my pain. He knows how I feel, and He wants to comfort me. He "gives and takes away", and is worthy of praise.
Thank you for all your notes, emails, and calls. We are so glad that we had friends who have lovingly reached out to us. We are so thankful for the strangers who had left us a note, those who have told us their stories and shared in our pain.
Some of you have asked what you can do for us, and all that I ask is that you would pray that God would strengthen us as individuals, as a couple and as a family, that He would protect our minds and hearts, and keep us focused on Him. And, maybe you could throw in a little pray Her for more children. (Smile!)
Those who know me, know that I am a very upbeat, positive person. I don't like to dwell on the "downer" things!
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Our fourth child
Most of my friends and family know by now, but some of you may not, so here goes.
Easter was going to be a big day for us. You see, we planned on announcing the coming of our newest blessing on that great day. Unfortunately, that morning, I miscarried the baby.
We are so blessed to have friends and family who instantly reached out to us to comfort and support us in this tough time. I was thankful that we told my parents the day before.
Don't feel like you must leave a note. I know it's difficult to come up with something to say, and you may be worried about whether or not it will be comforting or offensive.
We know our little one is with God now, and we will see our child again. I was thinking about how wonderful it must be to skip the heartache of earth and go directly to the golden streets and glory of Heaven. How awesome it must be to open your eyes for the first time and see God's glory.
I don't know how it all works- but I know God had plans for our baby, and they were fulfilled. I, personally, feel like we still received a blessing, even if she (?) never made it to our arms. EVERY child is a blessing, no matter how long they live.
Easter was going to be a big day for us. You see, we planned on announcing the coming of our newest blessing on that great day. Unfortunately, that morning, I miscarried the baby.
We are so blessed to have friends and family who instantly reached out to us to comfort and support us in this tough time. I was thankful that we told my parents the day before.
Don't feel like you must leave a note. I know it's difficult to come up with something to say, and you may be worried about whether or not it will be comforting or offensive.
We know our little one is with God now, and we will see our child again. I was thinking about how wonderful it must be to skip the heartache of earth and go directly to the golden streets and glory of Heaven. How awesome it must be to open your eyes for the first time and see God's glory.
I don't know how it all works- but I know God had plans for our baby, and they were fulfilled. I, personally, feel like we still received a blessing, even if she (?) never made it to our arms. EVERY child is a blessing, no matter how long they live.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Doodle days
Some "school" days are purely artistic. My husband and I are artsy, creative people and it seems to have spread to our children as well. The other day, we spent the morning at the kitchen table doodling and creating.
Keagan's new interest is in stickers. Have you ever watched a baby play with stickers? It's hilarious! He peels one off the sheet and stares at it, then pulls it off with his other fingers. Then he stares at his other hand and tries to shake off the sticker. Then he tries to pull it off with his other hand, and the process repeats until the sticker is in a wad. He's finally figured out how to stick them on papers!
This particular day, we made our own cereal, and Merikalyn named her cereal "Turauncho." Btw, the says you need to roll the R. She thinks she can speak Spanish, especially when she's pretend-cooking.
Can you guess what this is? It's Ariel the Mermaid holding a frog.
All of my children love to bang on the piano. I mean, what little one doesn't like loud noise? Here they are in their pajamas. Merikalyn is wearing one of my old shirts from my teen years.
Keagan's new interest is in stickers. Have you ever watched a baby play with stickers? It's hilarious! He peels one off the sheet and stares at it, then pulls it off with his other fingers. Then he stares at his other hand and tries to shake off the sticker. Then he tries to pull it off with his other hand, and the process repeats until the sticker is in a wad. He's finally figured out how to stick them on papers!
This particular day, we made our own cereal, and Merikalyn named her cereal "Turauncho." Btw, the says you need to roll the R. She thinks she can speak Spanish, especially when she's pretend-cooking.
Can you guess what this is? It's Ariel the Mermaid holding a frog.
All of my children love to bang on the piano. I mean, what little one doesn't like loud noise? Here they are in their pajamas. Merikalyn is wearing one of my old shirts from my teen years.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Interesting, Funny, and Scary moments!
We've had some interesting moments this week. Unfortunately, I was unable to take photos of these moments for safety reasons (it just wouldn't have been safe or responsible for me to go searching for the camera at the time, as you will see).
During the cool days of Spring, I usually leave the back door in the kitchen open. The kids and dog are usually in and out throughout the day anyway, so it' better than hearing the door slam a million and one times.
Sometime after lunch, after Keagan was down for a nap and the kids were playing upstairs, I settled down on the couch to read my book. It was quite windy outside, so I could hear the papers on the fridge flapping. I heard other noises, but I assumed it was the dog until I realized the dog was snuggled up beside me. (She's small, and easily cozies up beside or behind me without me noticing.)
I looked into the kitchen and, woah, there was a bird perched on my kitchen sink. Then he fluttered over to the table. I guess he decided it was time to fly our coop, because he began to flap his wings and head outdoors, except there was this silly thing called GLASS in the way. BAM! HE slammed into the window in the dining area. Then WAM, he slammed into the window on the door (the door opens against the table). He was becoming frustrated, and began flapping around, swooped into the livingroom and....
SMACK! He collided into the mirror and PASSED OUT on the floor! I told the kids to stay upstairs (although Nolyn wasn't keen on listening since he really wanted to inspect the bird). I tossed the dog outside as I ran to my neighbors for help. I really didn't want to come back to find bird feathers and guts all over the place!
One of my neighbors came over with a broom (why didn't I think of that?), and about that time, the bird came back to life. He bumped against this large window in our livingroom before taking time to gather while sitting on a small little frame. My neighbor and I pondered how to get the poor little thing out of the house. I opened the front door, pulled the back door back as far is it wood go and opened the window in the dining area, just in case he (she?) trapped himself in that corner once again. Then it occurred to me. Why don't I try to lure the bird outside with bread? As I went to grab a couple slices of bread, the bird took flight once again. He circles around the fan (where we have high ceilings), then swooped down into the kitchen and...... out the door!
*Whew* My neighbor and I started breathing again and then began laughing!
I was afraid the bird would attack one of us (or the kids if they came down) because he was pretty flustered, and she was afraid the bird was going to head upstairs (which is why she had guarded the entry with her broom!). We were relieved he had finally vacated our people house! And I watched him shake off his panic as he balanced on the fence.
Of course, afterwards, I found evidence of his fear. He had left droppings all over the place! I really wished I would have been able to take a picture of him, but when I thought about it, he was sitting right next to my camera, and I certainly didn't want rile him up any further!
So, you'd think one moment of excitement would be enough for the week, but I guess Keagan was feeling a little left out (since he was asleep during the bird ordeal yesterday) and decided to create his own moment this morning.
The dog and I were once again snuggled on the couch as I read my bible. I thought Keagan was playing with the dollhouse behind one of the couches, but evidently he had decided to move on. Now, we've gotten into a habit of shutting the bathroom doors because Keagan is a toilet splasher. I have found it's easier for the kids to remember to shut the door than it is for them to remember to put down the toilet lid (but I prefer them to do both). Anyway, I heard a yelp coming from my bedroom. I distinctly remember shutting the door, then tugging at the knob (because sometimes our bathroom door doesn't shut all the way even when you try to slam it), so I figured he had simply managed to shut himself in the closet, and was frustrated that he couldn't get back out.
Nope.
This little booger had nudged the bathroom door open and was sitting IN the toilet. I mean, feet, legs, heiny... everything below his waist. And he wasn't happy about it.
It was at this moment I REALLY wished I had my camera with me because the sight was hilarious, but I knew it wouldn't leave him to get it (and I certainly wasn't going to tramatize the poor kid by restaging it, although the thought did cross my mind). I removed him from the toilet (thank goodness it was flushed, right?), stripped him down, and placed him in the tub while I ran some water to bathe him in. He wasn't happy about that either. I guess he figured he had just gotten a bath in the toilet.
I thought it was pretty funny, until it hit me. What if he had toppled over head first into the toilet and hadn't been able to get out? He would have drowned! How frightening! I'm just glad that God was watching over my baby!
I think Keagan was just trying to imitate us. He wants to do whatever his siblings are doing, and they an sit on the toilet, so he wants to as well!
Oh, and a few nights ago, Nolyn got up to go to the bathroom and was so sleepy, he stood in front of Merika's door and tinkled on the carpet. I got the job of cleaning the carpet while Hubby bathed Nolyn.
So, next time you're hoping for a little more excitement in your life.... remember to be careful what you wish for!
During the cool days of Spring, I usually leave the back door in the kitchen open. The kids and dog are usually in and out throughout the day anyway, so it' better than hearing the door slam a million and one times.
Sometime after lunch, after Keagan was down for a nap and the kids were playing upstairs, I settled down on the couch to read my book. It was quite windy outside, so I could hear the papers on the fridge flapping. I heard other noises, but I assumed it was the dog until I realized the dog was snuggled up beside me. (She's small, and easily cozies up beside or behind me without me noticing.)I looked into the kitchen and, woah, there was a bird perched on my kitchen sink. Then he fluttered over to the table. I guess he decided it was time to fly our coop, because he began to flap his wings and head outdoors, except there was this silly thing called GLASS in the way. BAM! HE slammed into the window in the dining area. Then WAM, he slammed into the window on the door (the door opens against the table). He was becoming frustrated, and began flapping around, swooped into the livingroom and....
SMACK! He collided into the mirror and PASSED OUT on the floor! I told the kids to stay upstairs (although Nolyn wasn't keen on listening since he really wanted to inspect the bird). I tossed the dog outside as I ran to my neighbors for help. I really didn't want to come back to find bird feathers and guts all over the place!
One of my neighbors came over with a broom (why didn't I think of that?), and about that time, the bird came back to life. He bumped against this large window in our livingroom before taking time to gather while sitting on a small little frame. My neighbor and I pondered how to get the poor little thing out of the house. I opened the front door, pulled the back door back as far is it wood go and opened the window in the dining area, just in case he (she?) trapped himself in that corner once again. Then it occurred to me. Why don't I try to lure the bird outside with bread? As I went to grab a couple slices of bread, the bird took flight once again. He circles around the fan (where we have high ceilings), then swooped down into the kitchen and...... out the door!
*Whew* My neighbor and I started breathing again and then began laughing!
I was afraid the bird would attack one of us (or the kids if they came down) because he was pretty flustered, and she was afraid the bird was going to head upstairs (which is why she had guarded the entry with her broom!). We were relieved he had finally vacated our people house! And I watched him shake off his panic as he balanced on the fence.
Of course, afterwards, I found evidence of his fear. He had left droppings all over the place! I really wished I would have been able to take a picture of him, but when I thought about it, he was sitting right next to my camera, and I certainly didn't want rile him up any further!
So, you'd think one moment of excitement would be enough for the week, but I guess Keagan was feeling a little left out (since he was asleep during the bird ordeal yesterday) and decided to create his own moment this morning.
The dog and I were once again snuggled on the couch as I read my bible. I thought Keagan was playing with the dollhouse behind one of the couches, but evidently he had decided to move on. Now, we've gotten into a habit of shutting the bathroom doors because Keagan is a toilet splasher. I have found it's easier for the kids to remember to shut the door than it is for them to remember to put down the toilet lid (but I prefer them to do both). Anyway, I heard a yelp coming from my bedroom. I distinctly remember shutting the door, then tugging at the knob (because sometimes our bathroom door doesn't shut all the way even when you try to slam it), so I figured he had simply managed to shut himself in the closet, and was frustrated that he couldn't get back out.
Nope.
This little booger had nudged the bathroom door open and was sitting IN the toilet. I mean, feet, legs, heiny... everything below his waist. And he wasn't happy about it.
It was at this moment I REALLY wished I had my camera with me because the sight was hilarious, but I knew it wouldn't leave him to get it (and I certainly wasn't going to tramatize the poor kid by restaging it, although the thought did cross my mind). I removed him from the toilet (thank goodness it was flushed, right?), stripped him down, and placed him in the tub while I ran some water to bathe him in. He wasn't happy about that either. I guess he figured he had just gotten a bath in the toilet.
I thought it was pretty funny, until it hit me. What if he had toppled over head first into the toilet and hadn't been able to get out? He would have drowned! How frightening! I'm just glad that God was watching over my baby!I think Keagan was just trying to imitate us. He wants to do whatever his siblings are doing, and they an sit on the toilet, so he wants to as well!
Oh, and a few nights ago, Nolyn got up to go to the bathroom and was so sleepy, he stood in front of Merika's door and tinkled on the carpet. I got the job of cleaning the carpet while Hubby bathed Nolyn.
So, next time you're hoping for a little more excitement in your life.... remember to be careful what you wish for!
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