Thank You

The love and support has been so helpful. We are grateful. So very, very grateful.

I have struggled with the depth of my pain. I have struggled with this grief that leaves me standing in the shower crying, or with tears filling my eyes each time someone says, "I'm so sorry."

It felt wrong to be this sad. Like I didn't have a right to.

But your words of love have showed me that this is real and I am allowed to feel this way. You have helped me grieve and allowed me to cry. I don't have to be strong. And that has been the greatest gift of all.

Each message, the new bag to brighten my day, homemade spaghetti sauce, a chicken dinner, flowers, cards, heirloom tomatoes, a plant to put in the ground in memory of our baby, a note from a stranger who reads this blog and wanted to reach out, your hugs and prayers have all been part of my healing. I have cried over each one. But with thankfulness in my heart for the permission to grieve. The validation that you granted me. And the love you have showed for our family.

Because this is affecting all of us. It is not a private grief. Yesterday James, my thinker, wanted to know where the baby is. He meant the body, not its soul, because we talked about that the first day. He wanted to know the details of what would happen to our baby. Can we bury it? He is so pragmatic. It's all very scientific.

But a little later he asked, "can we give our baby a name so we can write it down and remember it?"

And William. He's been asking me to hold him a lot. But I think he's really holding me. Today he was crying, distraught and I didn't know why.

"What's wrong with me is what's wrong with you," he sobbed.

We are all hurting.

Today has been the worst day. I thought it would get better each day, but it has gotten worse. Maybe at first I was still just so shocked. It came so unexpectedly. Or maybe it is just because I am emotionally exhausted. I have never felt so tired in my life.

It has taken all I've had not to break down constantly in front of the kids today. I felt unstable. It is a new place for me. I have never been like this before. It is hard.

But God reaches us in our most broken moments when we realize there is no way we can do this on our own. He is the God of all comfort. And so it is also the best day. Because I finally let God into this and into my aching heart.

I can't do this by myself and I have been trying to.

11 Corinthians 12:9 "But He said unto me, My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness."

I don't like being weak. In fact, I have a lot of pride in my strength. I can handle things. I like it that way. And so reaching out to people, saying "I need you" has been a very hard thing for me to do.

But I see how beautiful it is. How God has placed each of you in my life to help me find strength, not in myself, but in Him and the love of the people He's placed in my life.

I think about how with our first 3 pregnancies we have waited to tell. Waited for that first heartbeat, just to be sure. It was always at 2 months, never 3, but I switched doctors this time and the appointments got all mixed up. We were just so overjoyed with our surprise that we couldn't keep it to ourselves. If we had, we would have grieved alone.

And I don't how I would have made it through.

So thank you. Thank you again for the love you've shown us. And thank you for teaching me that I can be weak. I can need. I can cry.

And I will be well again.

Tonight my heart is full of something besides sadness.

Thank you.

Greta

Sad News

I don't even know how to begin this post. I guess I just have to plunge right in.

I went to my doctor's appointment last Thursday for a routine check up. I was 11 weeks--almost done with my first trimester.

I was to hear the heartbeat for the first time.

But my doctor couldn't get a heartbeat. "Maybe it's because your uterus is tipped."

But I knew.

She did the ultrasound and it was with a sinking heart that I looked on that screen and saw nothing. No tiny baby dancing and jumping like I have seen every other time.

The screen was lifeless.

And my heart started to break.

Because this baby may have been tiny, but it was already a part of our family, and I loved it.

She said it stopped developing. Probably a chromosomal problem. It couldn't grow. It couldn't live. A few weeks ago my blood work indicated no problems, so she couldn't say when it had happened, only that she was sorry that it had.

So we talked about what would happen next and what I should do and I had to try to keep it together and grasp this terrible thing.

And when I stepped into the elevator and I was alone, I wanted to kick the walls and cry and curse and just be so mad and so, so sad.

It has been 3 days.

I am still so sad.

Understandably there are a lot of emotions that surface at the slightest provocation.

Today William asked me, "is there a new baby in your tummy yet?"

He has asked me that every day since I had to tell him, that first day, that our baby died.

He hugged me tight. And I know that he misses our tiny baby too, because he said, "I wish that our first baby could just come back into your tummy and I could talk to it some more."

How can I not cry?

I try not to think about it. I try to be busy. I try to be distracted.

I feel like it is unjust for me to feel such sorrow when there are others who have lost so much more than me. I know this loss is small. How can I make so much of it?

That first night I went to bed utterly exhausted and emotionally drained. I really couldn't feel any more. And I thought, "I can do this. It is hard, but I am fine."

In the morning, I remembered and it was like a punch to the gut. It was still fresh. And it still hurt.

Perhaps the hardest thing to get used to is that this baby is no longer a part of our lives. We talked about it every day. We talked to it, how old they'd be when the baby came, where the baby would sleep, how they'd be my helpers, and so much more.

And just like that, it is all over.

There are selfish thoughts, " I was almost done with my first trimester, finally feeling better, and now I have to do that all over again." "Now I'm not pregnant, just fat."

And I feel terrible for thinking them.

I feel more vulnerable: wanting another baby and yet feeling scared of the outcome. I realize more fully that life is fragile.

On my way home from the doctor's so many thoughts raced through my head.

Why did we tell people so early this time? We always wait for the first heartbeat. Now we're only bringing sadness into their lives.

What will people think? I feel like a failure.

I felt the same way when William was breech and though the doctor tried her best, he just would not turn. I felt like I had failed. My body wasn't strong enough for the job somehow.

There is a lot of pressure surrounding this business of babies. The getting pregnant, the staying pregnant, the natural delivery, the unwanted c-section, the nursing, the post-partum emotions and the way we expect everyone can and should be able to manage all those things just fine. This has made me realize afresh, and in new and painful ways, that this business of babies is not to be taken for granted. Though it happens to millions of people everyday, it is not a given.

I hope you don't mind me sharing this with you here, my heart raw before you. Writing helps me process this pain and these emotions. It helps me sort through the hurt that I find so hard to talk about. It has always been easier for me to express myself with the written word.

And to be honest, I dread saying it over and over again. Oh yes, it will get easier, but right now, I just don't want to. So I say it here to get it done.

This may be the only time I post about this for a while. I might need a break to focus on happier things. (Because posting this and this made me smile. And that's ok)

Or not. I just don't know.

What I do know is that it's ok to say something about it to me. Just know that I might cry.

I know I need your prayers because in the days or weeks ahead, I still have to miscarry this baby and I dread the day. Then it will be done, and I will mourn again.

I know that God is the author of life, not of death, so this is not "His will."

I know I still feel just as pregnant as I ever have, and it doesn't feel fair.

I know that I am not alone, but this loss feels very lonely.

I know this:

John 16:33

"In this world you will have troubles. But take heart! I have overcome the world."

In this blog, a memoir of my family, I want to remember this baby, to honor it somehow. So I write this. Even though it is sad and painful. We had a baby for a little while and now it is gone. Thank you for sharing that journey with me, and I ask for your support while I go forth on this new one.

Greta

A Valentines Day Tale

I had big plans for Valentines Day. But lately my plans don't seem to be working out. Note I am posting this a week after Valentines Day) I had plans to get up early and make a yummy breakfast for the family, set the table special, with gifts for each of my Valentines, to wrap said gifts, to make it a special day.

Instead, I woke to no breakfast food in the house at all, the dining room table covered with laundry that needed to be folded, gifts unwrapped and no card for my husband. After a week of "up all nighters" with sick kids, I had fallen asleep on the couch and awoke totally unprepared for Valentines day.

So I ran to the store to get bagels, cream cheese and juice. That was as special as I could get at the last minute. When I left, William and Lilly were still asleep, James was reading on the couch and I told Aaron to sleep as long as the 2 littlest still were.

But when I came home, everyone was awake, and the first thing I saw when I walked in the door was this:

I burst into tears.

That's quite a reaction for a cuckoo clock, you say.

You don't understand. I have wanted a cuckoo clock since my first trip to Switzerland and Germany when I was 16. I was on a mission trip and far too poor to afford a cuckoo clock. Each trip after, I wanted one more, and always I was too poor.

He remembered.

He said the boys told him when he asked what they should get me for valentines day. When they both said, "cuckoo clock," he knew that was it.

I love it and I could not be any happier. The gift is all the sweeter because of the thought that went along with it.

It also made my lack of planning or preparation appear even worse.

Oh well, I think they were all still happy.

First, James and William gave Aaron the clay sculptures they'd made earlier in the week.

A rocket and a pencil cup. Designed and built by the boys. (William got a teeny bit of help from Mommy after he smashed 2 previous sculptures in frustration)

Aaron liked his gifts.

They also picked out these cups for him because they were orange and they stacked. We found them at a thrift store. Lilly liked them a lot.

Maybe we should have given them to her.

We presented these to Aaron in the plastic bag that we brought them home from the thrift store in. So romantic.

My gift to Aaron was this deep sea diver. Again, found by the boys, but they were right, it had Aaron written all over it.

He has quite a collection of odd things in his office at work. Some of the themes are space, rockets, shriners, vintage trailers, and now, underwater exploring.

He's so weird. I love him.

The boys were thrilled with bagels and juice. It was treat aplenty. No one asked, "where are my heart shaped pancakes? Why isn't the table set with a red cloth and party napkins? Where's my hand drawn card from Daddy? Where's the Valentines Day spirit?"

They just opened their gifts, ("wrapped" in their hearts made a few days before) and were happy as clams.

Not like I planned, true. But perfect none the less.

So, one week later, I still want to wish you a happy Valentines day!

A Valentine Party

Last year I had a Valentine party for the kids. Of course, that meant I had to do it again this year. If you do it once, it becomes tradition.
I don't really mind. I like to remember the things I loved when I was a kid, and do those things for my kids.
I loved parties.
So I have parties for my kids.

The cousins and a few of their best buddies came over the Friday before Valentines day, and we decorated heart shaped bags, ate snacks and exchanged valentines.

The hearts were cut from Trader Joe's bags. Aaron and I stayed up late one night and cut them out. (Have I mentioned before that he is an awesome husband?) I hole punched them and had red yarn ready for the kids to lace their hearts when they arrived.

Side note: this works better for the older kids. The little kids needed their mommy's help.

Lots of jewels, feathers, sequins and stickers were added to the hearts with copious amounts of glue, so that we had to let them dry awhile before any exchanging could take place.

They were so happy with their valentine holders. And the end result was quite cute.

After a bit, we hung the heart bags around the house and the kids all walked from room to room, delivering their valentines. That was the really crazy part! Imagine 10, 15? I can't even remember how many kids were there, wandering my house, yelling, "where's Cora's bag?" This one's for James. Where's James?" It took awhile for the deliveries to be made.

It was pretty funny and a good memory.

Then, the best part. Each child was given his or her bag, stuffed full of valentines to open and enjoy.

Didn't you just love getting valentines when you were a little person?

Exclamations were made. Mommies and aunties helped to read the cards. There were chocolates and clementines, too. They were all handmade and lovely.

(Except for the ones from my kids. I felt so magnanimous this year, letting them purchase valentines--so unoriginal and hated by me. But after I saw every one's handmade valentines I vowed to go back to my small, selfish ways next year. Cars valentines? Never again!)

There were glue footprints on my floor, I was tired as all get out, we went through a bag of jewels and I think all the kids had a blast. It was a loud and rambunctious party, but it was still sweet as could be.

And I think that is all I could ask for.

Taking Care of Mommy

There have been a lot of long nights lately. No one has been horribly ill, just sick enough to keep Mommy and Daddy up a lot. Fevers, snot, lots of crankiness and the coughing, oh the coughing. The coughing attacks translate into climbing into Mommy and Daddy's bed, or middle of the night steam showers (as mentioned here) or, at the very least, waking Mommy while the cougher somehow manages to sleep through it.

But Monday night was the longest of all. I spent 3 hours in the ER with Lilly. We got home at 4:30. I got 3 hours of sleep that night. (She's OK--left after waiting for 3 hours and seeing 1 person called in. But that's another story)

All of these sleep disturbances have left this Mommy feeling so very, very tired. Even though my parents came up yesterday, and I got to take an extra long nap (bless you Mom and Dad!) I was still feeling exhausted today.

So when Lilly went down for her nap, I went down too. The boys had strict instructions to play quietly with Legos on the back porch, or read inside. They didn't let me down.

This pregnancy has been good for them. I am putting a lot more responsibility on them. They have to help Mommy. That is all there is to it. I need them.

I need them to let me nap. I need them not to wake up Lilly. I need them to give themselves a shower, dry themselves off, and get into their jammies. I need them to get themselves water and snacks. I need them to be much more self sufficient.

It all sounds very wonderful, doesn't it? I'm training my boys to be men! But right now, a lot of it just means more work for me. More spills. More water all over the bathroom. More art messes made during quiet time.

But let me tell you, the joy they feel when they do it themselves and help me, the pride they feel for being big boys, it is worth all the extra work.

Last week they made those hearts and proudly taped them in the front window. With blue painters tape. "Isn't it cool Mom? We made Valentines decorations for you. Do you like our surprise?" In fact, they were so happy they made the decorations for me that they couldn't resist waking me up to show me. ( a direct violation of the fire, blood, poop or barf rule, but how could I be mad?)

"Now you don't have to put up decorations because we did it for you!"

They really do love to take care of me.

Well today, Lilly slept and slept. So I did too.

And these two,

well, they made me a feast.

Even in my sleep, my Mommy radar is tuned in. I knew it was quiet for an awfully long time. I had given them permission to have a cookie, but I knew many, many minutes had passed since I had murmured, "yes! Just go get a cookie!" with my eyes closed.

So I dragged myself off the couch and went into the kitchen.

And they had the biggest grins.

"Mommy!" they said.

"We made you a feast! It's for all of us. We didn't even know we could make a feast so big, but it has everything you like. We wanted to make you a feast because you're pregnant and we need to take care of you."

I wanted to take them to Target right then and there and buy them every Star Wars Lego set in the place.

They were so happy to do something for me. Their very own idea, executed solely by them and a total surprise to me. How can I rob them of that joy? So what's a little more clean up?

And I know that feast looks like a bit of a mess, but take a closer look.

It's all in the details.

There was butter. Because we love butter.

4 cups of my favorite mineral water. Even though William and I are the only ones who like it.

Lots of fruit, because it's healthy.

Bread, raisins, a hard boiled egg and the jam that they'd been saving since we went out to breakfast at the Pot Holder a month ago. They wanted to share it at the feast.

Also, tortilla chips and avocados for guacamole. They really wanted to make the guacamole, but thought they might get in trouble for using one of the sharp knives. (I am certain that was the voice of James overriding the voice of William on that one!)

It was a lovely feast.

This isn't their first feast. You might remember another one they made for me.

They are getting more sophisticated. And it's something they really love to do.

This thing that happened out of necessity, be more responsible because Mommy has to rest, has turned into an amazing way for them to show their love for me.

I never could have planned it.

There are a lot of late nights in this business of parenting--but a lot of lovely feasts, too.

And, I think these boys are well on their way to becoming amazing husbands. I'm just sayin.

____________________________________

A little side note. All this sickness and extreme fatigue has made for sporadic posting and posts not happening as I'd like them to. Like this. So, there will be 2 more Valentines Day posts, even though the holiday is past and there are already beach towels and sand toys filling the aisles at Target. This blog is a reflection of my life.

Things don't always happen on time, or when I want them too.

So just hang with me here. The next 8 months might be a little bumpy!

Ode to My Valentine

Valentines Day is different when you have kids. For example, the thing you meant to write about your husband in honor of the day doesn't get written because you fall asleep at 8 o clock, teeth unbrushed and fully dressed, exhausted from nights up with kids coughing in your bed and needing steam showers in the middle of the night.

There is laundry piled on the dining room table and dirty dishes in the sink.

You eat in.

You talk about the kids during dinner.

It isn't about candlelight and roses.

But there is something so much better.

Love.

The kind of love that endures all things.

The kind of love that lasts.

I have a memory of Aaron that might be my most favorite memory of him. James was only a few months old. He was sick with his first ear infection and very fussy. He was up over and over again, all night long. I was exhausted.

He cried out again and I went to him. I took him to the couch to nurse him for what seemed the hundredth time that night. I wanted to cry right along with him.

Aaron came to us and asked, "what can I do?"

I was a new Mommy and thought I had to do it all myself.

"Nothing!" I answered. "No one can do anything but me!"

It feels that way when you are a new Mom. You feel alone. You have never been so tired in your life and this thing that you waited so long for is much, much more than you bargained for.

Instead of saying, "fine!" and going back to bed, Aaron sat down in the dark, on the floor, at my feet. And he took my foot in his hands and began to rub. I wouldn't let him help me, so he did what he could. I, of course, began to cry and he sat there and rubbed my feet without saying a word.

Aaron has done so many spectacular things for me, but I will never forget that moment.

Because that moment is the real stuff. Because life isn't always romantic. Sometimes it's a baby crying in the middle of the night. Or something much, much harder.

And you can't make it through without real love.

This kind of love.

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails." 1 Corinthians 13:4-8

I am grateful to the Author of love for giving me this man to love for all my life.

Happy Valentines day, Aaron. I want the world to know how very much I love you.

The Magic Kingdom

We spent Superbowl Sunday at Disneyland. It was great! The last time we went was 3 years ago, so it was almost like going for the first time for James and definitely for William.

Aaron and I used to go to Disneyland a lot. In fact, that is where we went on our first date after we spent 6 weeks together in India falling in love. Oh, and doing missionary work.

Back in those days, it cost us $25 dollars to go to Disneyland. Now you can get a churro and a coke for that. Thankfully Aaron's parents gave us a day at Disneyland for our Christmas present this year. So we packed up a big bag of snacks and hit the park.

here are the highlights.

"We're goin in." (imagine that said in a very high, Michael Jackson voice. that's for all you Disney trivia freaks out there)

First stop, Autopia. The boys # 1 choice. You can barley see Lilly's head in that car with William and Aaron.

It is amazing I got any pictures on this ride--James was pretty terrible at steering. But he had fun.
Our first time on the Finding Nemo ride. Aaron and I were underwhelmed.

But the kids loved it.
Stopping at Aaron's favorite spot: the Tiki Room.
We all went on Pirates of the Caribbean. I love the Blue Bayou.
We rode the train around the park twice.
Lilly broke 2 of the rules over and over:

"Remain seated please." and "Keep small children away from the openings of the train."
William snuck a peek at Winnie the Pooh. He didn't want to get close to him. "Just see him."
And now, my 2 favorite pictures of the day.

We caught a show in front of Sleeping Beauty's castle.

Who is it, you ask?

Ursala? Malificent?
The evil stepmother from Snow White?
Oh no, it was Mary Poppins!

She, apparently, was terrifying.
Lilly liked her.
She liked the horsies too. Poor Lilly. A life time of "can you see?" jokes lie ahead of her. I should know.
We rode the monorail. I didn't know you can ride in the very front with the driver. It is fast.
James and William try their hand at feats of strength.
It is a pretty magical place.
We even saw Mickey before we left.
We left with 3 very tired kids. But we all had a blast. It doesn't matter how many times you go, it just never stops being fun.

Thanks Mom and Dad!