While You Wait

531 days.

That is the number of days from when we learned we lost our first baby to the day we met Norah, the first baby we got to bring home. 

Maybe it seems like a small amount, but when you're waiting, the days are long and hard. I know so many who have had to wait much longer and are still waiting. Forget waiting- when you're longing for something, the days feel impossibly long.

There are a lot of things I would love to tell myself about those days, with the privilege of hindsight. After much reflection, I can offer the most important thing I wish I could tell 23 year old me on that devastating day. And in an attempt to help another who might need to hear the same thing while they wait, I know it's time to share.

Long for Jesus.

It's not a new lesson, it's not something I made up on my own. But it is something no one ever said to me. It's something I did not know I wasn't doing. It's not like I woke up each day that I was depressed and thought to myself "hey, today, I'm not going to long for Jesus as much as I ought to".

There's a point where depression, anger, sadness, hurt, and confusion are kind of okay. They can be totally okay to feel and deal with. But there's a line between a healthy amount of dealing with it and the unhealthy, not dealing with it, but rather, wallowing in it and allowing it to take up residence in your heart. I know about this line because it's a line I crossed.

This line is often a line between you and idolatry. 

The thing is, I'm not just talking about having a baby. The wait to have a healthy baby can be long and hard and can have so many different outcomes. But it's any wait. The wait to be married. The wait for God to heal your heart. The wait for physical healing. The wait for your loved one to get better. The wait for a job. The wait for your loved one to come back to the Lord. The wait for something better. I don't know what you're waiting for but there's a line between longing for Jesus and longing for _______.

I wish someone would have told me to long for Jesus more than I longed for a baby.

For a time, my longing for a baby was much greater than my longing for Jesus. Guess what! That longing left me with empty arms and somehow didn't fill the void in my heart either.

It's not that I think longing for these things is wrong. But it's wrong when you long for anything more than you long for Jesus.

Jesus is the only thing that matters. 

In my own heart, I had to accept the truth that I might not ever have my own biological child. It was a longing I had, and I did truly think I'd have my own at some point. Unfortunately that longing led me down a road where I idolized having a baby and that was sinful. I had to find the happy medium between longing for a baby, but longing for Jesus far more. He's the only thing that satisfies. An important part of this story was that I had to come to my place of longing for Jesus more before I had Norah. If I had had Norah before I learned to long for Jesus, I'm not sure I ever would have learned. It's not even that I think God was waiting on me to learn it, but it sure did help me in the long run to decide to long for Jesus first and foremost in this life, knowing that no matter what comes my way, no matter what I lose in this life: Jesus is the only thing that matters.

I have no clue what you're waiting for. I don't know if you're using this waiting time wisely, or if you're being sinful and idolizing whatever it is you're longing for. I don't know if you even realize it, but maybe you've stopped longing for Jesus more than anything.

Please take it from someone who endured a wait that was long and painful.

Long for Jesus.

Jesus is the only thing that matters.

She Might Not Look Like A Mother

She might not look like a mother.

She might not have her children by her side. They might not wake her up tomorrow with breakfast in bed.

She might be missing some of the ones she had hoped to bring in this world.

She might be missing the babies who never even were, the ones she'd dreamt about in her younger years.

She might be the one with tears in her eyes tomorrow. She might not even show up for church.

She might be the one visiting the graveside, the only way to spend Mother's Day with the one(s) who made her a mother.

You might wish a mother Happy First Mother's Day tomorrow, unaware that it isn't truly her first. You might see the baby in her arms, but find yourself completely unaware that this one you see is only the first one she got to hold.

You might not look like a mother, but this post is for you.

If you've never held your babies, or if some of the ones you call your children didn't make it, Happy Mother's Day. You're some of the bravest of us all.

If you visit your child's resting place on this Mother's Day, Happy Mother's Day. You're some of the strongest of us all.

If you're the one reading this who knows a Mother who doesn't get to spend today with one or more child that resided within her body once, please don't forget these sweet Mothers. They need you more than ever to acknowledge this title that they have, one of the most important you can have.

If you're the Mother who will walk into church tomorrow, or maybe a restaurant, and see the smiling families celebrating their Mothers, Happy Mother's Day. Even if no one knows you hold this title, even if it's something you still cannot think to share with other people, even if your heart hurts so much tomorrow, please know that you are some of the bravest, strongest, and most precious of us all.

To all of the women, who come in all different forms and fashions, the ones who have all of their children on earth, the ones who have children resting with Jesus, the ones who became mothers by adoption and the gift that another mother gave, the ones who foster and watch kids come in and out of their lives, the ones who are hurting because their children are distant, and the women who are desperate to become a mother, you are all so cherished.

Happy Mother's Day.

Dates

It was 2 years ago today that we said goodbye to our first baby.

When I was pregnant with Norah, and even before that, I vowed to not complain about baby related things publicly. Time after time, I saw moms complain about the many difficulties of raising kids. The kids are cranky, baby won't stop crying, baby is teething, and my least favorite- complaints about the sleepless nights. If I could have, I would have walked up to their front door with a bag labeled "sleep" and trade all of my sleep for a healthy, living child. I knew in the end, they'd rather have the baby than the sleep, but the complaints still stung. While they were up all night with a baby, I was sleeping way too many hours a day because of my lack of a baby.

For the sake of the point I'd like to make though, I'm going to complain for a second. Norah was just about the best sleeper ever until she was 3 months old. For some reason, it all hit the fan and it's been a big struggle since. Lately it's gotten even worse. Sometimes she will be awake from 11 PM-3 AM, happy as can be as if it were an appropriate time to wake up. Now the only way for her to sleep longer than 45 minutes at a time is if she's in her swing, in our room. Not ideal. But desperation has set in and she sleeps peacefully there for many hours and we all finally get some rest.

Honestly, I am very frustrated by this. I cannot figure it out. Every time she has a good nights sleep I think "oh it was just a phase" and then the next weird sleeping (or non-sleeping) habit introduces itself.

I get frustrated.

Until days like today roll around.

Today I am reminded why I am okay with the sleeplessness I'm facing. Today I remember the many dates that remind me of my losses.

Anyone who has lost a loved one has their list of dates. For someone who had a pregnancy cut short it might be the day you found out you were pregnant, the day you found out if you were having a boy or a girl, and of course the expected due date. Along with those happy dates are the sad ones, the day you found out there was no heartbeat, or the day you were forced to say goodbye. These days are hard every year as they roll around.

I look at Norah and I think about her big brother*. I think about what he would have been like, if he would have been a good sleeper, if he would have been as expressive and joyful as she is, or if he would look like me. I think about this child who I said goodbye to without ever getting to meet- the very child who made me a mother.

The sleepless nights aren't that bad all of the sudden. Instead, I might reach to feel Norah's heartbeat in her chest. The sound of that very heart was the most beautiful noise I heard while pregnant. After hearing the words "there's no heartbeat" you become a little more aware of how beautiful and important a thumping heart really is. Now I can't hear her heartbeat like I used to. But I feel it. I see her smile, I hear her giggle, I hear her cry on occasion, and I hear her happy yells all day long. Norah shows me how vibrant and alive a person can be. When I get frustrated by this zealous life keeping me awake at 2 AM to play and show me all of her new tricks, it's pretty quickly that I remember that I'll take it.

I'll take the really hard nights if it means I get to share them with her.





*for simplicity, I refer to our first baby as a boy as that is what I thought we were having.

Dig Your Wells Deep

If you know my father pretty well, you know there are a couple of statements he has made over the years that have stuck with the church in Owasso. One of those statements is this: dig your wells deep.

There is no greater way to learn than through a trial. For some people, your learning experience can be positive. You find out you are strong and your faith is secure, your faith is deep. For some people your learning experience reveals serious flaws in how you handle crisis and tragedy. It is not with pride that I admit that I found myself in the latter category. 

I was not prepared for the news that day. I was not prepared to walk into our first ultrasound appointment to find that our baby had no heartbeat and that tiny heart had most likely stopped beating a week before. What's interesting is I was totally prepared logistically. Tyler and I had actually had a conversation a week or two before that appointment when I had heard of this sort of thing happening to other people. We talked about what happens after that, what the options are, what would we do in that situation. But we still maintained the thought "that would never happen to us". So what do I mean when I say I was not prepared?

My well was shallow. I had not been preparing for the storm or for the drought. In my seasons of plenty, I did not store up as I should have. I had a really difficult time believing that God was good, and only good. That regardless of whatever crisis I am facing, He is sovereign.

So my focus for 2015 is just this: dig my wells deep. Through the process of having two failed pregnancies about 6 months apart, my well suffered but began to grow deeper. It would be so easy to sit by right now, just coasting because life is really going just fine. Sure, there are still hard things happening but I'm not inundated by a fresh crisis right now. Life is just fine, it is good. But coasting is not an option this time around. It's time to be proactive and dig my wells deep.

I am not naive enough to believe that the next crisis is not going to come. It is. I don't know what it will be. I don't know how it will make me feel. I don't know what it will take to make it through. But I do know, that I am determined to have a full well this time, ready to draw when the next storm comes. 

I have a feeling that I am not the only person that has learned just how empty their well was when they found out they needed something to draw from. Maybe you also found out that your well lacked the faith, strength, joy, or peace that you needed to make it through. This is my encouragement to you: dig your wells deep. Put in place practical ways to grow your faith in the seasons of plenty so that in the seasons of little or the seasons of pain you have something to draw from.

Whether you're in a season of plenty or a season of drought, it is always the right time to start digging. 

You Are Not Alone

You are surrounded by them.

You are surrounded by the women and men who have hearts full of love for their babies.

But they have empty arms.

When I had my first miscarriage, I did not know a lot of people that could relate to the pain I was feeling. I didn't have a lot of people who were asking the same questions I was asking. Since that first miscarriage, I've known too many people to join this club, the club of pregnancy loss.

Today, October 15th, is a day set aside to acknowledge the parents who have lost their children in pregnancy or in their infancy. I wish that a day like this wasn't necessary. It is a completely unfair world to live in, the world that doesn't allow you to bring a healthy baby home from the hospital.

I'm not writing this to be one of the trendy blogs or articles that have been passed around lately. You know the ones, the ones that talk about how we need to talk about miscarriage more. I get that it's not talked about a lot and many of us end up suffering in silence. But for me- that's what I wanted. I wanted to grieve my losses privately. For the women who want to talk publicly about their losses- go for it! That's great. But some of us don't grieve that way and I want you to know: that's okay. Grief is a journey that looks different for everyone.

The real reason to write this is to tell you, the woman who is suffering in silence or suffering with everyone watching you: you aren't alone. You have a story that is full of joy, pain, and questions all at the same time. You have a story that isn't over. You are a mother regardless of how long you carried your baby or how long your baby lived outside of your body. You are a mother to someone beautiful, who gets to be with Jesus and know no pain. If you are a mother belonging to this club and you don't have the hope of Heaven, I pray you'll reach out to someone who does. Without the hope that comes from God, I never would have survived my losses.

And perhaps this is the most important thing I can tell you today, sweet mom: it is okay. It is okay if you're struggling with God because of this unfair death that has swept over your family. It is okay if you are questioning whether He is truly good or not. It is okay if you can't go to church right now and sing to Him and mean it. Maybe people will disagree with me, but whatever it is you are feeling: it is okay.

I spent some time avoiding God. I am not proud of the lack of faith I had after my first miscarriage, it wasn't pretty. But here's what I learned: God can handle it. He can handle my anger. He can handle my doubts. He can handle my questions. He can handle my tears. He can handle the wide range of emotions I dealt with. The moment that I decided to tell Him about all of these emotions and let Him handle it was the moment that He began a story in my life that is somewhat indescribable. He can redeem any situation, even the loss of the most innocent and perfect form of life.

If you're grieving the loss of a precious baby, or babies, you are in my prayers. If you want to tell me your story, tell me about the sweet babies you didn't get to bring home, I want to hear it. I'm happy to listen. Every time I post a picture of my sweet Norah, I am praying for the mom that will see that and be reminded of what she doesn't have. I've been there. Every time I hear of another person joining this club of pregnancy loss, I cry with you whether we are close or not. I think of you often whether I know about your loss or you've chosen to grieve privately. My heart is heavy for you today, as we think about the little ones that should have been.

Anything can be redeemed.

Thankful When It's Hard To Be

Something I've been learning a lot about for awhile now is contentment. I made it a goal this summer to find peace and joy in all circumstances, to stop comparing my circumstances to anyone else's. 

What I've been told a lot by authors and mentors is that when you are feeling least content, you should combat that with thankfulness. Discontentment has so much to do with what we feel we are lacking and it causes us to lose sight of what we do have. So here, in my attempt to fight discontentment in this "thankful" season, I will express my thankfulness.

First and foremost, I am thankful that Jesus can redeem any situation. What the devil uses to harm me, God uses for good.

I am thankful that my marriage doesn't suffer when we face storms. It would be all too easy to blame each other or take frustration out on one another, but we don't. We cling. We lean on one another. Our marriage outlasts the storms.

I am thankful for the best support system in my family. My husband, parents, and siblings are my greatest role models and best friends. Each year I think I couldn't be more thankful for them and then the next year, I have grown even more with them. They are true solid rocks in my life.

I am thankful for the way God uses pain in our lives to grow us. This has been evident for me the past year. I have learned a lot. Every time I face a new challenge, I am able to face it a little stronger and more confident than the last, all because God grows us and strengthens us through trials.

I am thankful for a group of awesome middle school and high school students! It's such an honor and blessing to be in the lives of these people. They chase after God and challenge my own faith in a lot of way.

I am thankful for FaceTime because it lets me talk face to face with family. Most importantly it allows Grace, Graham, and Brynlee to show off by dancing around for me every now and then!

That is not an entire list, of course, but this is what it is on my heart today. I choose thankfulness instead of discontentment!

Deactivate

Have you ever gotten to the point where you feel the need to withdraw from social media? I've gone through some points where I just spend too much time worrying about other people's lives. It can be pretty consuming! So from time to time, I'll take (or Tyler and I will both take) a break from social media.

Well, I'm taking a break from Facebook.

These "breaks" usually have a time frame. This break does not.

Indefinitely.

Normally, I would not like to share this media fast. It seems kind of like a show off. "Oh I'm so God-centered that I take time from social media." In all honesty, I have deactivated my Facebook accounted because of how much it takes away from me and God. It's less about how it's healthy to take a break and more about how unhealthy the habit has become.

You may not have this problem, but I sure do. Comparison. And quite frankly, I was not at all aware of comparison stealing my joy until I heard someone else talk about it... I realized that it is exactly what I'm going through.

Do you put your dirty laundry out in the front yard for anyone to see? No.
On a first date, do you tell the potential mate about all of your baggage? No.
Do you post on Facebook about the sins you've committed, or the ways you've wronged people around you? I'd guess no.

But we do try and make our lawn look nice, right?
We try to make ourselves as appealing as possible on a first date, highlighting our degrees and achievements.
We post our pictures of smiling kids and families, clean and remodeled homes, and the perfect moments of our lives.

And I'm not saying that that is a bad thing. For one thing, I'm still using Instagram and Twitter because frankly, they don't create nearly the same problem in my personal life that Facebook does. What I am saying is that as a reader of Facebook, I only see the good in your life. I only see the highlights, the celebrations, and the best parts of my "Facebook friends'" lives. I do not see the bad parts, the struggles, the hardships. But I see my own hardships and I compare them to another persons' highlights.

This creates the desire for more- for different things that I can't or simply don't have. It creates a wedge  between me and God. I start to ask Him why others around me get what they want but I don't. I start to think God just doesn't want to bless me as much as He blesses others. This, my friends, is so unhealthy for me.

It's still a struggle even without Facebook because hey, it happens in my everyday life, too. I am currently looking for a job, two friends of mine started looking around the same time I did... I've sent out at least 12 applications. Anything from retail to school jobs, and nothing. Not a single phone call. And ya know what? My friends got jobs pretty much right away. Talk about jealousy. Talk about comparison. What doesn't look good on my application? Why don't people want to hire me? I'm a great, hard worker. I know this, why can't they see it?

But here's what I constantly have to remember: God's plan for my life is vastly different from His plan for yours. Comparing my life to others is hardly ever a good thing. It either creates jealousy and pain for me, or it fills my soul with pride that does not belong there. Comparison has stolen my joy one too many times.