name

This is the story of how Ella got her name.

Elizabeth "Ella" Ruth

As you know, we named our first baby Ellis, whom we lost way too soon. Her name means "My God is the Lord" in Hebrew. We wanted to remind ourselves that no matter what, God was God, the author and perfecter. Ella means "bright light", which is how we felt about our rainbow baby. She was the light at the end of a dark tunnel. We also loved the fact that our two babies names are so similar. We wouldn't have Ella if we had Ellis, so they are very much connected for us in the most bittersweet way.

Eric has an Aunt Mary Ella who is very special to us. Ella was partly named for her as well. I was a nanny for a family for twelve years (They were basically my second family. Those kids are more like siblings to me) and the youngest who was my favorite was Ella.

Elizabeth was chosen for multiple reasons. I was baptized in the Greek Orthodox church when I was a baby and was given the middle name (a second middle name) Elizabeth. Also, Eric and I have clung to Elizabeth and Samuel's story in the bible.

Eric chose Ruth. We both love Ruth's story and we hope and pray that Ella grows up and exemplifies a lot of her qualities.

Still feeling very, very blessed. I stare at my little girl for hours not fully believing that she has been entrusted to me. Thank you, LORD.

the most bittersweet day

Today is Mother's Day.

When we hear this phrase, every woman in the world immediately conjures up some image in their mind. For most, it is of their own mother and they are probably very happy memories.

There are also those who never knew their mother.
Those whose mother is no longer here on earth.
Adoptive parents who have a dichotomy of emotions while looking at their blessings.
Parents who have been paper pregnant for too long, or those with failed placements.
Women who have desired children for years and have not been able.
Grieving mothers who have lost children in pregnancy, infancy, or beyond.
Mother's of embryos still frozen and waiting for a chance at life.
Mother's of children who have walked far from the Lord.

Today, I feel more emotional than I have in a long time. I love my mom. I have written about her before. Though our relationship hasn't always been easy, it's always been there. I know I take her for granted a lot.

I am heartbroken for my dad. This is the first Mother's Day since his mom (my Tata) passed away. She was an absolutely incredible mother. She exemplified a mother's love in more facets than we realized until she was gone.

I am also grieving with and for my precious HP sisters. This day is so painful for the ladies that are still waiting. This day screams "not for you!" but for those who are "blessed." I know, I have been there for the last four years. Today was the first day I was able to go to church on Mother's Day in three years.

I am grieving for and with all of my friends who have miscarried or still births. It is so hard to know you are a mother, even though the world doesn't really recognize you as one because your child resides in Heaven and not on earth.

Especially heavy on my heart are the women who did have a living, breathing child who was taken from them after birth. I literally cannot fathom that type of pain.

I guess my point here is yes, Mother's Day is a day to celebrate. I don't want to take anything away from moms. God has definitely given mothers a difficult and mostly thankless job, so one day out of a year to honor what our mother's have sacrificed is not a bad thing. Most people don't even think about rubbing salt in wounds on this day because many times those wounds are well hidden.

Today is bittersweet. Today by the world's standards I am a mother (though baby girl has yet to make her grand entrance). Last year I was a mother by God's standards. For years before that my greatest desire was to become a mother.

For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well

  My frame was not hidden from you
    when I was made in the secret place,
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed body;
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be.

How precious to me are your thoughts, God!
    How vast is the sum of them!

Were I to count them,
    they would outnumber the grains of sand —
    when I awake, I am still with you.

- Psalm 139 13-18 

(in)courage says it better than me.

what a year can bring

It's my birthday.

Last year on this day...

I turned 26, still nestled safely within the "mid-twenties" range.
27? that's late twenties no matter how you slice it ;)

I ate at my absolute favorite restaurant, The Village Grill. It's kind of a birthday tradition I started for myself.

I was still carrying Ellis, though not many knew. I went to the hospital on my birthday to have blood drawn. The nurse who did it cried when she saw what the day was for me. I was too numb to care. Three days later, I had the D&C and started the real grieving process.

The day before my birthday I was also at the hospital, this time to see my sweet friend Jenn's new baby girl.

The day after my birthday I celebrated my littlest nephew's first birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAYCE!!!)

Last year on my birthday I was the angriest I've ever been at God. I ashamed to say that I have been angry at the one who holds me in the palm of his hand, but I was nonetheless.

What the Lord can do in a year. The forgiveness of my sins, the cleansing of my spirit, the renewal of my faith time and time again. An unforgettable trip to Costa Rica. A peace about growing our family in whatever way he chose for us. A church that stood by us. Friends and family that loved us at our ugliest. A marriage that stood the test of loss, and came out stronger.

And of course, as I sit here typing with my gargantuan sized belly, the sweet blessing of a little girl soon to make her self known to this world.

"So I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten..." - Joel 2:25

What a year can bring. Thank you, Lord.

showered

The precious women of my church threw a baby shower for me. I was so nervous the night before I literally slept for 3 hours and spent the rest of the time praying. You see, for a long time baby showers were nothing more than a source of pain for me. There isn't much worse for an infertile woman than being surrounded by other women, who most likely have had children, talking all about the miracle of pregnancy.

I am not now, nor have I ever been, bitter or jealous towards my friends' blessings. I mean that sincerely. I think baby showers are absolutely wonderful and essential not only for material things but also for support and encouragement. But it is very hard to be there. I make myself do a lot of things that many other infertile women would not or could not do. I love to babysit my friends children. I love serving on the children's ministry team at church. I love to meet new babies in the hospital. In fact, there are only two instances I can think of in my whole journey that I chose to protect my heart instead of subject myself to hours of tears later: Mother's Day and baby showers.

To say that attending a baby shower for myself was surreal is an understatement. However, I was so so so blessed. Blessed by the amount of women who love me and our baby enough to come. Blessed by the sheer amount of things our baby girl got! But mostly blessed that I was able to share a small part of our testimony. For those that weren't there, I'd like to share it now here.

For those of you who don't know me or Eric well, pregnancy was not something we ever thought we would experience. We spent a very long time praying that God would bless us the way he had Hannah, Sarah, and so many other barren women in the Bible. 

After a while God really began to change the desire of our hearts - instead of praying for a pregnancy, we began instead to pray for parenthood. God softened our hearts toward adoption and we began the journey to become licensed foster parents. After a year and a half we were literally no closer to the end of that road than when we had started. It was a painful and heart-wrenching decision to end that time without bringing home a single child.

A month after we ended that pursuit, we discovered I was pregnant. In three years we had never seen a positive pregnancy test (in fact I was sure they didn't exist and joked with Eric that it was the one test I couldn't pass!) We were deliriously excited and naively hopeful. We didn't realize how badly we wanted to experience pregnancy until it actually happened. 

Our first baby was only with us a few short weeks, but I'll never forget the impact she made on our lives. One day when I hug Jesus, I will get to hug her too. 

As if waiting for years wasn't enough, losing our first baby felt like too much to bear. We didn't understand what God was doing, nor could we see the light on our path. However, we trusted the Lord. It wasn't easy and we were confused, but God had been right there with us on our whole journey, why would he turn his back on us now? I clung to the verse in Psalm stating "the LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

Exactly seven months to the day later, God once again blessed us with a pregnancy. We felt the same unimaginable joy, followed quickly by much anxiety - pregnancy after loss is filled with mixed emotions. 

I am now 30 weeks, a milestone I never let myself imagine I could get to. There are many couples out there with similar or even more heartbreaking stories. I am not sharing this with you for sympathy or to prove anything about "perseverance."  I am sharing our story because above all other things, we want God to get the glory! Our individual relationships with Christ have grown exponentially during the last four years. Our marriage is stronger and more rooted in Christ than it ever could have been without our experiences. We want nothing more than to be a living embodiment of God giving us "beauty from ashes, gladness instead of mourning, and a spirit of praise instead of despair."

God is faithful.

v day

No, not Valentine's Day. Viability day.

Friday marked my 24th week of pregnancy, which means that our baby has a really good (ie: about 70%) chance of surviving outside the womb, should she be born early. Anyone in pregnancy land will tell you that this is a big deal day, but coming from pregnancy after loss...let's just say it's huge.

I definitely do not want to meet this girl any earlier than May, but today I praise God that my chance to mother her on earth has risen exponentially. My chance to watch my husband hold her and spoil her has greatly increased.

I know every breath I take is a sweet gift from God, but I have never been more aware of that fact than I am today.

So blessed.

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.- Psalm 139:13-14

i miss costa rica

It's been hitting me hard for a while now.

When we first started going to Costa Rica a few years ago, we didn't know just how much of our hearts it would steal and keep. When we had finally settled into the thought of never getting pregnant, we just assumed Costa Rica would continue to be a part of our lives. Even when we decided adoption was our path, we knew we'd be getting older children and they would be perfectly fine at the grandparents for a week while we were there. When we lost our first baby, Costa Rica was the balm to my heart that only God could have provided.

Not going to Costa Rica has never seemed like an option before. Like I have said so many times before, please don't take this like I am ungrateful for this pregnancy. However, overseas missions seemed like our future (we have seriously discussed becoming missionaries in a Central American country) or at least something that we would continue to pursue.

I know I'll go back one day. But today, when it is rainy in my town, I wish that rain was hitting my face on the mountain of Grano de Oro.

"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven" - Ecclesiastes 3:1

on slowing down

I knew it would be like this, I knew the moment when Eric and I found out whether or not our sweet baby was a boy or a girl would be game changer.

I have definitely struggled with this pregnancy, mentally more than anything else. Typing that outright sounds kind of terrible. Let me explain.

I wanted to be pregnant.
I still want to be pregnant.
I am overjoyed to be pregnant.

However, coming from the world of infertility and loss has been more difficult than I ever imagined.

I don't immediately identify with my other pregnant friends. I am joyful, but my joy comes from the Lord, not from the fact that I am pregnant. I am also thankful, same reasoning. You cannot just erase almost four years from your life like they never happened. God has grown and stretched me in ways I could have never imagined. I can look back and see times where God was molding me to look more like his Son. Painful times, but so very productive.

So yes, I have struggled to come to terms with many things during this pregnancy. It doesn't mean I am ungrateful at all, but in my humanness, my mind wanders.

Why now God? Why this timing?
I love this baby, but I loved my first baby too. I wouldn't be carrying this little girl if my first one wasn't sitting with you today.

Can you understand why this pregnancy has been such a mind battle for me? There are a lot of things that add to that battle as the pregnancy progresses; milestones that I did or did not reach with Ellis. The biggest one so far? Gender.

Which brings us back to the game changer. We found out our little one is indeed female, to which I was supremely surprised and Eric was ridiculously overjoyed! To say he was hoping for a girl is an understatement. Love that man of mine! But after our initial elation, reality set in. More than reality, pressure.

I don't like pressure. But there it was like a big black rain cloud hovering over our parade. No one had to put it there, it just appeared on it's own. Pressure to name. Pressure to tell the name. Pressure to decorate the nursery. Pressure to register for all things pink. Pressure, pressure, pressure.

Eric and I have decided not to give in to pressure. This may be the only full-term (God willing) pregnancy we ever get to experience. In an effort to fully realize the blessing we have been given, there are things we must do in order to protect our hearts and minds. A few of these things will make other people mad, I am aware of that. I also don't feel like I have to defend our decisions to anyone. We don't plan on announcing our baby girl's name to the general public. I don't plan on registering for a million and one things, nor do I plan to register any time soon.

Right now I am happy to just sit and enjoy the kicks that I know I'll miss feeling soon. (I'm 20 weeks!!!)
I am even ok with going maternity shopping...mostly because I love shopping and it's getting to be a necessity!
I've started a tiny bit of nursery dreaming, mostly to appease my very excited mom who is generously making the bedding for her first granddaughter. 
I am just not sold on the over-hyped commercialization of pregnancy (or babies and children for that matter, kids just aren't as burdening or expensive as the world makes them out to be).

I think most women want pregnancy to go fast so they can get straight to mothering. I'm just not of that same mindset. And that isn't stemming from me having a superawesomeIcouldbepregnantfortherestofmylife pregnancy, it's just the realization that it is so easy to take gifts from God for granted...even gifts we have wanted begged for for years.

"Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." - Psalm 46:10

what a year can bring

I am stealing this idea from my friend Gaby and giving her credit because I told her I would! :)

2011 in Review
January marked the one year anniversary of starting the adoption process. We were discouraged, and yet had so much hope for that route. God had different things in my mind, we just didn't know it yet.

February is the month that took me to Honduras, Eric to Costa Rica, and renewed my passion for mission work. I wrote about it a lot. It's also the month we conceived for the first time in our 4.5 year marriage.

March is the month I came home from Honduras. It's the month that we learned of our conception and felt God's presence in our lives in a new and different way. God also taught me a lot about anxiety this month.

April was a slow month in blog land for me, but not in my personal life. I did post a little about infertility.

May was a big month. I turned 26 and was incredibly depressed. I had to say goodbye to my first child. God taught me a very important lesson on the body of Christ.

June was the month my sweet husband turned 28. God blessed me immensely and unexpectedly with another mission trip to Costa Rica, a balm to my broken and confused heart.

July brought our FIVE year anniversary! It also brought our decision to stop pursuing foster-to-adopt.

August was the month that God taught me a lot about identity. We conceived our second child, unbeknownst to us. I also got this spiffy new blog ;)

In September I guest posted on Held, and we learned of the sweet baby growing inside me. 

In October I had a lot of blog problems and switched back to blogger! Love blogger. We also announced our pregnancy to you and the world ;) I also had to say good-bye to my grandmother.

November came with highs and lows. I told you the name we chose for our first baby on her estimated due date. I also entered into my second trimester with the baby girl I now carry.

December brought the excitement and anticipation of finding out the sex of our sweet baby. We celebrated the best birthday in the world, JESUS'!

What did 2011 have for you? I have to say, this year was a roller coaster of emotions that surpasses the others by a landslide. But we have SEEN God work, we have tasted his goodness and experienced pieces of His magnificent plan. We wouldn't trade 2011 - heartaches and joys - for anything.

hangin' there

A few weeks ago I shared with you all that the day after we saw our precious baby's heartbeat for the first time, my grandmother went home to be with the Lord. I don't think I can ever explain the mix of emotions felt during that week.

Today I just want to talk about Tata. Tata means grandmother in Arabic. It's pronounced "Ta" (like tablet) "tah." Most of this post won't mean anything to you all, that's ok, I just feel the need to put down memories of her somewhere. I've always said this blog is my outlet, where I hope to encourage others and glorify God all at the same time.

Tata is one of my first memories. When my parents divorced and we moved away, we visited my dad every summer. We always stayed at Tata's house. She lived about a quarter mile from the ocean in Massachusetts. Her house is one of my favorite places in the entire world. We moved a lot growing up, so I can't say "my childhood home" and mean one place in particular. Tata's house has always been my constant. It is a very small white cottage made up of two bedrooms, one tiny bathroom, a living room and a kitchen. That's it. I love every square inch of that place. My most favorite space in that house is actually not in the house, it's outside. You see Tata was born and raised in Lebanon. She is hands down the best cook I've ever known...more on that later. Anyway, a traditional Arabic dish is yubra - stuffed grape leaves. When Tata moved into her house in the 60s the first thing she did was plant her grape vine. Over 50 years later, it's beautiful and full and producing the most awful tasting grapes! That doesn't matter though, all she needed was the leaves.

She had two sheds out back stuffed to the gills with everything you can imagine. She had two freezers in one, completely packed with food and Lebanese bread! In the event of a snow storm, she wouldn't have to go anywhere for weeks.

A few years ago I thought it would be very important to learn to cook some of her Arabic dishes. She measured nothing! I carefully watched and wrote down ingredients, steps, and eyeballed measurements to ensure I could at least make the simple things that I grew up eating. I thank God for those sweet hours I got to spend with her, talking about how she learned to cook and where she grew up. I learned that she married at 13 years old! She had my dad at age 16 and my uncle at 20. She didn't have any more children after him and I could see in her face that it pained her. She never spoke of being unable to conceive, but at the time Eric and I were going through the same thing and my heart broke over our unspoken infertility bonds.

I learned to make hummus, sfiha (spinach/meat pies), yubra (stuffed grape leaves), mujadara (lentils and rice), tabouleh (parsley salad) and many more dishes. I hope one day they turn out as good as hers.

While Dad was working, Tata did her best to fill our days. We went to the beach and collected snails. She loved to put her feet in the water. We walked on the sea wall. We visited family. Most of all, we shopped! Tata loved to shop. She would shop and buy and the next day she'd return everything! She loved to grocery shop too. She went nearly every day. It was amazing to see her cart filled with $100 worth of groceries, and she'd spend $7.62. I am not kidding, the woman was the original Extreme Couponer.

Dad took us to Disney World one time, and Tata came too! At almost 70 years old, she rode Space Mountain!!! Coolest grandmother ever. When she passed away and I went to MA to help dad go through some of her things, I found a very important envelope. It contained the original deed to her house, her marriage certificate, Dad's birth certificate, and all of our tickets from Disney World. Of course, I lost it. She kept everything important to her in that envelope.


Though she lived in the States for over 50 years, she still liked English as her second language. The sounds of Arabenglish permeated her house as she spoke fast and fluent with her sisters and brother. I will never forget certain phrases that rang out loud when she was excited, or angry!

When she saw us for the first time - "Ya budna!!!"
When she was angry with dad - "Haram."
When she called me on the phone - "Hi Nino!" (Nino was a nickname, no one knows how it got started but she is the only one to ever give me one that actually stuck.)
When asked how she was doing - "Hangin' there!" (She meant "hanging in there.")

I know my Tata loved the Lord. I know she is with with Jesus and she feels no more pain. I'm thankful that when God decided it was time it was fairly quick and relatively painless. There is so much more I could type, so much more I could say about her. I could write a novel on the many hilarious experiences we had, the funny conversations on the phone...

The last voicemail she left me was during Hurricane Irene: Hi Nino! How are you Tata? Be careful from the hurricane Tata. Stay with your sister and brother. I'll talk to you later einey, bye. I love you. Bye.

She could never say bye just one time.

Bye Tata, I love you too. Bye.

So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. - 2 Corinthians 5:6-8

ellis

Today is the day Eric and I were supposed to meet our baby. Instead of heading to the hospital and going through labor and delivery and ending up with a snuggly little bundle in our arms, we are sitting in our living room, arms empty.

We named our baby, though I have never shared here before. Though we never found out the sex, we both had a sense she was a girl.

Ellis - "my God is the Lord"

Ellis gave us so much. I had thought conception an impossibility, Ellis proved that wrong. I had a deep desire to become a mother, and Ellis made me one. She brought a lot of joy to us in the short time that I carried her. 

I can't write any more through the tears. I miss our baby. My heart still hurts from what we lost.

But my God is the LORD.
He is my strength and my Redeemer, my very present help.
He is close to the brokenhearted.
He is our Sustainer.
My God is the LORD.

We love you, Ellis.

the awkward silence

While in the midst of infertility, there are a few questions you dread someone asking. Conversations start normally and innocently enough, and then they always end the same.

"So how long have you been married?"
Five years of bliss.

"Oh wow! Do you have any children?"
Not yet. Yes, but he/she is in heaven.

"What do you do?"
I am a math tutor for high school students at Bright and Beautiful Learning Center.

"Why don't you work full time?"
God has put it on mine and my husband's heart for me to work part time right now. Why don't you mind your own and stop giving me that judgmental look?

Awkward silence. Subject change.

It may seem like the worst question for infertile me is the one about children. It's not. I know that one is coming, and even though I feel a strong desire to answer yes to that question sometimes, I know the path of least resistance is a simple "not yet." I'm not technically lying, since I know that in their mind they are really asking the question "Do you have any living children?" even if they don't realize it. No one asks the question expecting me to tell them of my heaven-born baby. So I give them an out before they even know they need it.

No, the hard question is the last one. It's the one I don't often expect coupled with a look of "why would this childless woman only work part time?" As if the only two categories for married women are full time work or full time stay at home mom. My inbetweenness throws them off.

I feel the need to answer the mental questions I can see them asking me in that awkward silence.

Yes, originally I stopped working full time with every intention of becoming a mother. No, two years after quitting my teaching job that still hasn't happened. Also, no, I don't feel like we heard wrongly from God. I fully believe that what I have been doing for the past two years has been exactly God's plan for my life. I could list all the ways my husband and I have been blessed by it. I could list all the opportunities I have had because of my part time status. Just as easily, I could list all the ways people have tried to take advantage of it, or scorned it.

The point is, my identity has nothing to do with people. It has nothing to do with my job, full time or not. It has nothing to do with whether I have seven children or none. My identity is in Christ Jesus. My self-worth comes from the love and forgiveness I have received from Him. My purpose in life is to glorify God in all I do (or don't do, if that is the case.)

So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.- 1 Corinthians 10:31

It's so easy to judge someone you have just met. It's even easy to judge someone you have been acquainted with for years, but haven't known. It's not easy to judge when you learn the heart of a person. I'm not saying I have this concept down, I don't. But in the many (painful) lessons the Lord has taught me on this infertility journey, this is one I will cherish most.

But the LORD said to Samuel, “Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The LORD does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.” - 1 Samuel 16:7

before and after

I had started to realize that I viewed my life in two parts: before we lost our child, and after we lost our child.

Everything in my world was shaken to the core. My ability to make decisions had gone out the window. I didn't trust anything I said or did to be a part of God's plan for me.

You see, before our loss I was sure.
I was sure about adoption.
I was sure about a sibling group.
I was sure about going through foster care.
I was sure about being ok with not being pregnant, or having a biological child.
I was sure.

After our loss I was uncertain.
I was uncertain that I wanted to adopt.
I was uncertain that I wanted a sibling group.
I was uncertain about going through foster care.
I was uncertain if I ever wanted to become pregnant again, or have a biological child.

Before and after.

The truth is, my life is partitioned into two parts. I was just wrong about the event in which my life was divided.


If you want to read the rest, please go over to Held where I am guest posting today.

before the morning

And hold on cause there’s good for those who love God
But life is not a snapshot
It might take a little time but you’ll see the bigger picture

divided

Lately I have started to realize that I view my life in two parts: before we lost our child, and after we lost our child.

Everything in my world was shaken to the core. My ability to make decisions has gone out the window. I don't trust anything I say or do to be a part of God's plan for me.

You see, before our loss I was sure.
I was sure about adoption.
I was sure about a sibling group.
I was sure about going through foster care.
I was sure about being ok with not being pregnant, or having a biological child.
I was sure.

After our loss I have been uncertain.
I am uncertain that I want to adopt.
I am uncertain that I want a sibling group.
I am uncertain about going through foster care.
I am uncertain if I want to ever be pregnant again, or have a biological child.

Before and after.

I know that I am still grieving. And grief doesn't care about my capacity to make decisions and trust them. Grief doesn't set boundaries in time. Maybe my thoughts are irrational cast in the midst of this grief and pain. It doesn't make them any less my thoughts, does it? It doesn't change the fact that right now, in this moment, it's how I feel.

The truth is, my life is partitioned into two parts. I am just wrong about the event in which my life was divided.

My life should be split into before Christ, and after Christ.

I need to remember where I was before Jesus. I need daily reminders of what God saved me from: a life of misery and unhappiness and constant approval of others.

Before Christ
I was uncertain of who I was.
I was uncertain of what life was supposed to be about.
I was uncertain of my purpose.

After Christ
I was sure of my identity in Christ Jesus.
I was sure about what my life should be about.
I was sure of my purpose.

My life needs to stop revolving around my grief and start revolving around my God again. That doesn't mean I won't be sad or upset or downright angry when I think about what we have lost, what our marriage has gone through. I am not trying to minimize my pain or the pain of anyone else who has lost a child. I am trying to cling to the God that I know holds my future in his hands. I am trying to center my life around Jesus and not around my circumstances.

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. - Jeremiah 29:11

We are selfish people by nature and I will fail at this goal on a daily basis, I know that going in. But God is bigger than my grief and my selfishness. He wants nothing more than to be the only thing I need, the only thing I desire.

“God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him.” - John Piper

the body of christ

Just as a body, though one, has many parts, but all its many parts form one body, so it is with Christ. For we were all baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body—whether Jews or Gentiles, slave or free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink.  Even so the body is not made up of one part but of many.  - 1 Corinthians 12:12-14

But God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it. Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.  And God has placed in the church first of all apostles, second prophets, third teachers, then miracles, then gifts of healing, of helping, of guidance, and of different kinds of tongues. Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers? Do all work miracles? Do all have gifts of healing? Do all speak in tongues? Do all interpret?  Now eagerly desire the greater gifts. - 1 Corinthians 12:18-31

Jesus.
He knows my pain.
He knows my hurt.
He knows my longing.
He knows my desire.

He loves me, unconditionally. (Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. - 1 John 4:8)

He is my rock, my salvation. (My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken. - Psalm 62:1-2)

He intercedes for me. (Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. - Romans 8:34)

He died so that I might have life. (The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.- John 10:10)

Which is why he isn't here on earth today.
It's why he can't physically hug me and tell me that everything will be ok. 

It's also why during our time of grief, he has sent people into our lives that have done above and beyond what friends should do. I know what the body of Christ should look like now. I know how it should function. I know because I have experienced it, day in and day out since we found out our little one wouldn't make it.

I now know that the body of Christ is just that, brothers and sisters who become the hands and feet of Jesus. They have become the arms that hold us tight, so that we don't fall apart.

My friends and family have lifted us in prayer. They have sent cards. They have sent flowers. They have been a shoulder to cry on. They have allowed us to vent our anger and air out our grief. They have not judged us. They have not offered platitudes. They have wept with us. They have assured us our feelings are normal. They have promised not to let go of us.

They have been Jesus to us, in our greatest time of need.

I can not thank these friends and family enough. I feel terrible for not having more of myself to give right now. I know it is biblical to bear one another's burdens, but I am so used to being the strong one, the encourager. It's hard and humbling to allow others to come along side us like this, but I wouldn't trade one of them for the world. Whether these people are a two minute drive from us or one thousand miles away, each one has touched Eric and I. Each one has lifted us one foot closer to the top of the pit.

I never want anyone to experience the intense pain and loneliness that is loss, but it is my prayer that people understand the importance of the church. Church isn't a building with pews. Church is disciples of Jesus gathering together to worship the Creator and to do life together. Is that life always easy? No, of course not. But I believe that when life starts getting messy and ugly, the people who most understand what Christ did for them on the cross are the ones who are not going to walk away. They will stay and pray and get messy right along with their church family.

Most of the people in my life now know about our baby. The statement that I most often hear is "you are so strong to be handling this with such grace." I want to say, gently, no friend, I am not. I am not strong. I am very, very weak. The strength I have is what I draw from my Savior.

And He has said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness " Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ's sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong. - 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

when the rules are broken

Sometimes I forget that I started this blog as my own personal journal, a way to document mine and Eric's life and all the lovely little adventures along the way. I start writing to "captivate my audience" or "appease the masses" forgetting that the masses are a minimal 71 followers, many of whom are friends and family. Not that it's a bad thing to write this way, I rather enjoy it. It gives me focus.

Today I am not writing for my 71 loyal followers (even though I do love you guys) or the other family and friends that read posts via facebook or just have me bookmarked. Today I am writing for me. Today I have things that I need to say, that I need to get off my mind, and I am not going to censor my writing to be more blogger-friendly.

I guess you can consider that a warning for the things you are about to read. It was hard for me to write. It was harder knowing my husband needed to read it first. Pushing "publish post" was the hardest, though, knowing how many people it just might reach.

For the last three years the book of my life has been colored with many adjectives. The most dominant one being infertile. I have been careful not to let this word define me, although I admit sometimes it has. But after this long, the word infertility and I have come to an understanding...an agreement of sorts. We have a set of rules that we play by now: I can not get pregnant, and that's ok. God brought me to a place where I was honestly and truly comfortable with being the girl who can not get pregnant.

"'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,' declares the LORD. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." - Isaiah 55:8-9

That meant I was able to rejoice with friends who announced their blessings.
I could go to the hospital and visit my friends who had just stepped into their new roles as Mom.
I could participate in and even throw baby showers, all the while quoting "rejoice with those who rejoice..." (Romans 12:15)
I could do life with minimal interruption from my adjective and adversary.

Then infertility threw me a curve ball, and broke the rules. You see, the definition of infertility is multi-faceted. According to Resolve:

"Infertility is defined as the inability to conceive or carry a pregnancy to term after 12 months of trying to conceive."

On March 16, 2011 I woke up and took my temperature as I did every morning (to track my cycles). It was unusually high. I knew I must be getting sick and I wanted to be able to take some medicine in order to function at work that day. Thanks to my lovely PCOS diagnosis, I never really knew where I was in my cycle so I had to bite the bullet and take a pregnancy test. The first one in over a year. I had long since discovered that a pregnancy test wasn't like school tests, I always passed those with flying colors. I got up, dug out an expired dollar store test, took it, and promptly went back to bed confident of the one line that would be showing up in a few minutes.

Except two lines showed up.

I started shaking and decided I needed to bring out the big guns - a digital test. So I took it and no sooner had I gone to the kitchen to pour my coffee did I see the word we had been longing to see for three years.

"pregnant."

I was pregnant. Me, the girl who had become completely complacent with never seeing that word. I fell on my face and cried out to God, thanking him over and over again for his grace and his mercy.

"Your love, O LORD, reaches to the heavens, your faithfulness to the skies." - Psalm 26:5

You don't realize how much you want something until that thing becomes tangible again. I finally pulled myself together, called my doctors office and told them the news. The precious nurse cried on the phone with me  and offered me an appointment that day. I went, it was confirmed, it wasn't all a dream.

That evening I told my husband. My precious husband who had waited in heartache just as long as I had to become a father, it was the sweetest moment of my life to tell him he was one.

We told a few very close family members and friends, confident they would be praying for us and our baby. We decided to tell the world after the heartbeat was seen, which would be at 8 weeks. We lived two blissful weeks with the knowledge that God had blessed us with a pregnancy. We allowed ourselves to dream, a little.

Life as we knew it changed the day I called my doctor with the news that I had had some cramping a just a tiny bit of spotting. They wanted me to come in immediately. I was 6 weeks and 3 days. I was whisked into the ultrasound room, completely alone and unaware that anything but my baby would be on that screen.


After the longest two minutes of my life, I knew. I could tell by the nurse's expression and my doctor's resistance to saying anything that our baby was gone. On the screen was a beautifully formed gestational sac in exactly the right place...but it was empty.

Words were finally coming out of my doctors mouth about "...blighted ovum..." and "...beta doubling..." and "...could be too early..." but I knew. I had blood work done that day. And two days later it was repeated. And the day after that my doctor called to inform me that my beta had indeed doubled. In layman's terms - my hormones indicated everything was fine. The ultrasound was scheduled on Monday, exactly one week from the last one.

Monday comes, Eric is there this time, the ultrasound begins, our world collapses.

On the screen is an even larger, perfectly formed gestational sac, still void of our baby.

It's official. And now I have to learn how to live the multi-faceted definition of infertility. I am no longer the girl who couldn't get pregnant. I am the girl who couldn't get pregnant, miraculously did, and is now the mother of a heaven-born baby.


I don't know how to be that girl.

"The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away. Blessed be the name of the LORD."- Job 1:21b

(to be continued...)