Mercy

Last week, December 7th, my husband, my son and I grieved the loss of our beloved Walter again. It has been one year, and sometimes it is still so fresh. It just doesn't seem that long ago...

We decided to get a grave blanket for Christmas and his birthday. Believe it or not, we are only just now considering his headstone. (I cannot describe to you how hard it is to pick your child's headstone. There is something so final about it). I anticipated a very difficult situation at the cemetery. The last time I had spent any real time there I realized how bad it was for the sake of my soul and planned to stay away for awhile, but I needed - I wanted to do this.

God granted us the perfect weather to reflect our emotions that day. It was dark, raining heavily and cold. I was not prepared at all for what was in store for us that afternoon.

Aron put the grave blanket down, while Ethan ran around looking at and touching everything. We'd spent enough time there for him to know it was "baby Walter's grave," not that he knows fully what that means. I don't know that a 2 year old can comprehend death. Aron and I stood there,our hands intertwined looking down at where our second son's soulless body was buried, and just when the tears were really about to flow, I asked Ethan to stand by us. He took my hand, swung from it and began to sing, and at that moment the child inside me began to move vigorously. What a mix of emotion - grief and sadness for my Walter, but an overwhelming flood of gratitude and love. My husband held my right hand, my son held my left, and our next child was making his/her presence known in my womb. I was totally and completely overwhelmed in that moment by His grace, love and mercy. It was an extraordinary beautiful and warm moment in the midst of our sorrow. The three of us sang a hymn together and headed back to the car. When we got into the car, we wept. None of this was easy exactly, but God was present. There was no doubt about it.

Cranberry Pistachio Biscotti (Healthified)

For anyone who gets the All You Magazine, the December issue has some very promising holiday recipes. I saw this one and had to try it.

I did make a couple changes to make it healthier (substituted whole wheat flour for the all-purpose, egg whites for the whole eggs and I used organic cane sugar).  It is super easy and delicious.

I'm excited to try some of their other recipes!

Apples and Ketchup...

Do go together

Blessings

It's about 10pm.  I just sat down at my desk because I felt like blogging.  I stared at the empty computer screen for awhile, and then I stared some more.  So I thought to myself, I have nothing to say.  No tales of Emergency Room visits, tests, hospital visits, or any other kind of drama.  I am healthy.  My baby is alive and kicking (all day long today, fiercely even), my son is healthy, and so is my husband.  All of it is so much more than I could have ever asked for.  Peace in this house tonight.  Just peace and quiet.

I've been thinking lately about where I was a year and half ago.  It seems like a century ago.  All I wanted then was to stop bleeding, to raise my son and live.  I wasn't asking God for babies, material things or really anything like that.  I just wanted to live, and I wanted to be healthy again.  

I couldn't imagine then that this is where I might be today.  I am more than just alive.  We are expecting another baby in March, my husband is working close to home (so we get to see him more), Ethan is healthy and happy (for the most part at least ;) ), and I am healthy.  God answered my prayers and then some.

So tonight, while I have no dramatic news, I have an answer to prayer, even better than what I'd hoped.  My heart is full, and God is good.  And tonight, I'm feeling so blessed and thankful for the lack of drama.   

Well done, good and faithful servant

I still cannot fathom that there is a living, healthy, growing baby swimming around in me right now.  I suppose that is just a normal feeling after a couple of losses.  It is hard to believe sometimes, but I cannot deny the little kicks and punches I'm feeling in my belly.  It is a strange but familiar feeling.  It doesn't feel real, but then it does at the same time.  I'm sure that doesn't make sense to anyone reading this, but it does to me.

This pregnancy has definitely been different than the others.  It has been harder.  Some days, even though I'm 18 weeks, I still feel like I'm in my first trimester.  As exhausting as it is, that fact has been a comfort.  I know things are going the way they are supposed to.

I love this baby, and it makes me wonder, how is that possible?  How can you love someone so much that you've never met?  It is amazing the way God has designed the bond between a mother and child to begin long before they ever meet one another face to face.

I have never seen God (obviously), and I've never heard his voice, or felt his touch, but I do know He is there.  There is so much evidence in my own life alone that has proven that fact to me on a daily basis.  He preserves, protects me, and allows me to wake up and live everyday.  He has given me multitudes more than I've ever needed or deserved and prevented me from having so many things that I wanted but shouldn't have had.  I have never been deprived by Him.

If I'm amazed at how much I love this baby, how much more amazing is it that God loves me the way He does?  There are days when we give in to our children.  We might give in because we just love seeing them happy even if it only lasts for a minute or we are exhausted and just want to hear them stop whining.  Sometimes we give in, and it just plain isn't good for them.  I am God's child, and I whine too.  I whine for things that I want because I want them, even if they aren't good for me.  But God NEVER gives in when it isn't good for us.  He is a Father who loves us enough not to give us everything we whine for, and he does it BECAUSE He is good.

It is such a painful, difficult thing to watch your child suffer or get hurt.  We know though that it shapes their character.  They need to fall off their bike a few times, to get boo boos, to lose their soccer game, to get socked by another toddler because they grabbed a toy from another boy's hands.  We know that it will prepare them for the harder times that they will encounter later on in life: rejection, loss, failure.  Our Father, the One who loves us even more than we love our own babies, doesn't like to see us in pain either, but He knows we need it to grow.  Can He stop the pain?  Can He prevent the loss?  Could He make us succeed instead of allowing us to fail?  Of course He can, but He loves us enough not to.   

I buck against Him and His plans for me, but deep inside I know whatever those plans are, they are for my good.  And let's be honest, I have learned the hard way, what other choice do I have?  I can't change His plans for me, so should I wallow in sadness and pity or bitterness and anger, or allow myself to be stretched, broken, to ultimately grow?  It has taken me way too long to realize I need to let go of my desire to be in control.  I know He loves me enough to allow me to suffer because He wants me to grow.  I know He wants me to grow ultimately to be more like Jesus.  And I know it is all part of His master plan to prepare me for Him and so that one day I will see His face and He will say, "Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master." (Matthew 25:23 ESV)

Our Next Baby at 16 weeks

Moms Who Do It All...And Do It WELL

I am so far from the perfect wife, mother and homemaker. I don't have five kids each between 18 and 24 months apart sitting at the breakfast table at 7 am, all bathed, dressed and ready for the day. My house is messy. My kitchen counter is almost always a disaster, laundry sitting in baskets unfolded, crumbs and peanut butter and jelly smudges all over the dining room table, Cheerios or cracker crumbs on the floor and toys spread out all over the house. Don't get me wrong.  I try.  My vacuum is on at least once every day or so, but 24 hours later it looks the way it did 24 hours earlier.  I'm lucky if I've already gone to the gym and showered before lunchtime. I don't wake up before my son and my husband with coffee, orange juice, and breakfast already made for them before they are up.  I wish I could say the opposite.

You know that image of the woman from the 1950's, the one where she's vacuuming the house in heels, a cute dress, hair done, makeup impeccable, and has probably a 21 inch waist? Well, that's not me. If I'm home and vacuuming I'm probably in my pajamas or sweatpants. 

In the Christian culture, the Proverbs 31 woman is our ultimate goal. It is the image that every Bible believing Christian woman strives to attain and with good reason. If God says this is what He wants us to be, then this is what we must strive for.  It is pretty much non-negotiable.

Life is messy and exhausting, both mentally and physically for most mothers. I am so very blessed that my husband can provide enough so that I can stay home and raise our son. These days that is almost unheard of. Still, I can get so overwhelmed. It can be lonely being home often for days on end while my husband is away for work (he has to travel fairly often). I love my son and he is my joy, but being a parent alone most days of the week, without getting much if any time alone and running a house...well, it is hard sometimes.

I am sure that many women who read this would say "Ha! I would love to have your life. I work all day, have to keep a home and take care of my kids and husband."  I am frequently disappointed with myself because I look around me and see women working, raising multiple children, somehow managing to cook dinner, keep a house clean and still have time for leisurely activities, their spouse and applying makeup and actually styling their hair everyday.  I often think, how do they do it?  I only have one child.  He's 2 and half, not an infant, not requiring feedings every couple of hours.  He plays well by himself, and he's grown to be somewhat independent already.

So why does it all seem so overwhelming sometimes? Why can't I be the super woman that I've seen my Mom, my mother in law, my sister in law and so many others be? I've got it pretty easy. 

For those of you who have kids and still manage to do it all, I tip my hat to you.  You are a super mom.  Keep up the good work, and please - if you have any secrets feel free to share them with me.  I could use the help, especially since I've got another one on the way.

(Don't get me wrong.  I'm grateful to have the life I do.  God has been so good and blessed me with so much, but I would love to be "better" at it).

Happy Surprises

I have been avoiding blogging about this because I wanted to keep it private for about 3 more weeks. Yes, I'm pregnant for the fourth time. I have been so tempted to start documenting everything but haven't been ready to "go public" so instead I've decided to document it as of today and keep it private until we are ready to make the big announcement. At that point, these posts will be retroactively public (retroactively? Is that right?)
Anyway, I have known for over 5 weeks now. Wow! Time is flying by. Things have been going well and, thankfully, different than last time. Okay. I'm getting ahead of myself. First things first, I found out because of a silly little comment my Mom made (the day we went to plant the flowers actually). After we picked out the flowers she suggested we take Ethan for ice cream. While sitting in Coldstone I expressed my desire to redecorate our house. While muttering about furniture, she gave me a suspicious look and said "you're nesting." I laughed to myself and I think out loud a little too. Was it possible? I was sure it wasn't because Aron had been travelling a lot, and the timing seemed to be way off for that to even be a possibility.
Later on I stopped at Target and picked up a 2 pack box of First Response tests (feeling very silly because I was so certain it was impossible). We got home and I opened the box, took the test, sat it down and turned the bath water on for Ethan. I had actually forgotten about it and a couple minutes later noticed it on the counter. I headed over to the trash can, fully prepared to see only a single line, glanced at it and couldn't believe my eyes. (i literally didn't believe them) I held it up, squinted a little, and there it was. Unmistakable. The faintest second line.
In fact, I was in such disbelief that I didn't tell Aron that night. I just thought if it's for real when I take the second test tomorrow morning the line will be darker. I laid in bed that night, kept the possible news close to my heart and spent some time with the Lord, reading His Word and talking to Him. I remember praying that His will be done and thanking Him for this precious, and rather unexpected, gift. Unfortunately, I think I had been through so much heart ache the last couple of years that it would take a few more weeks for the possibility of having a living, healthy baby to be a reality in my mind.
I woke up the next morning, took the second test, and knew for certain that my eyes were not playing tricks on me the night before.

Letting the Flowers Die

Wow. It has been a long time since I've blogged. Where to begin...

Needless to say, the last few months have been hard. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about my Walter, recalling his little face to mind, remembering the eery silence in the room after I gave birth. It was such a stark contrast to when Ethan was born. It was dark, and quiet and sterile.

There is so much in that dark scenario that I have to be thankful for. We sang, prayed, read God's Word, and held him for hours when he was born, watching his little heart continue to beat, swaddled in the baby blanket my mother made for him with the words "You are loved" hand-stitched on it. It was such a blessing that I had no hemmorhage or residual issues from the area where my AVM was and didn't require special medical attention, so we had all that extra time to breathe our sweet angel baby in. Every second counted; every second was and is treasured.

To call it to mind - it still is so painful. I think I expected that 8 months down the road I would be in a different place, maybe just sighing and smiling to myself when I thought of him. I'm just not there. I wonder if it will every really feel much different, or will it just stay this way? Will I ever be able to say I'm truly "happy" that he isn't with us, playing with his brother, falling asleep in my arms, wrestling with his Daddy? I can't imagine it.

I know because he is my son that I will never stop loving him. It is an impossibility. I suppose I am still grieving in some ways.

A couple of months ago I was thinking that I wanted to plant some flowers at his gravesite. In fact, I NEEDED to plant the flowers. I don't know any other way to explain it. I needed to go back there and do something for him, make the place where his little body was laying colorful. Believe me. I know his soul is already gone. I quickly realized that the reason I NEEDED to do it was only because of me.

So my Mom and I went to the greenhouse. We picked out some pretty and colorful flowers and headed to the cemetery. It was a scorching hot day, but we managed to dig up the ground and plant the flowers. We watered them and decided that with the heat wave here in NJ watering the flowers would need to be a daily occurance. Since I live 5 minutes down the road I assumed the task, happily I might add.

It wasn't long before I found that I was drawn to the cemetery. I realized again that I wasn't doing this for Walter. I was doing it for myself. He is with God where there are no more tears or pain or death or sorrow. He is not paying any attention to what is going on at his gravesite, and for that I am so glad. One of my only comforts is that his life was never and will never be tainted by the sadness of this world.

The last couple of times I went to the cemetery I noticed something different in me. It was this angry, bitter emotion. Something about visiting that spot wasn't just about visiting my Walter anymore. It was about feeding this demon inside of me. It was like everytime I went there to water the flowers, I was watering an ugly, sinful bitterness, and it was growing like a weed. At first, I would just tear up a little while I was there, but as time went by it wasn't just sadness I was feeling. It was bitterness. I cannot even explain when or how it turned from tears to anger. It happened when I wasn't looking I suppose.

It took a matter of just a few days before I saw what I was doing, what I was becoming. I'm sure it all sounds a little over the top; oh, I wish it was something I made up. But it was very real, and that was when I realized it was time to let the flowers die. Keeping them alive wasn't worth me feeding the weeds that were growing inside of me.

I think what I'm saying is this. It is okay - not just okay - it is right to grieve ("Blessed are those who mourn" Matthew 5:4), but if it comes to a point where you are sacrificing your own spiritual well being in the midst of your grieving, let the grief die. Don't water it, don't nurture it. Let the sun scorch it and burn it.

"If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off. It is better for you to enter into life maimed, rather than having two hands, to go to hell, into the fire that shall never be quenched..." (Mark 9:43) If there is sin in your life or anything that comes between you and Christ, don't just let it go. Don't just walk away. Run. It isn't passive. It can't be. It's war. Or at least it should be.

I'm sorry to say this, but even 8 months after I said goodbye, I've come to recognize that my baby's gravesite isn't a place I should visit often. I'm sure for many people they could say the opposite, that visiting their loved ones who have passed has helped them heal. For me, I think it is more like taking a scab that isn't ready to come off and picking it off, opening it, making it susceptible to infection. I think for now, I am just going to leave it alone, not disturb it and let it heal some more.

All this being said, for anyone who reads this and sees seeds of bitterness sprouting in their own life, there is a short booklet called "Bitterness" written by Lou Priolo. It is an excellent resource that I would highly recommend and well worth the small investment of your time to look into it.

A Heaven-Minded Perspective

"Most men hope to go to heaven when they die, but few, it may be feared, take the trouble to consider whether they would enjoy heaven if they got there...to be really happy in heaven, it is clear and plain that we must be somewhat trained and made ready for heaven while we are on earth." -J.C. Ryle

For the first time in too long, I'm feeling thankful for and at peace with the His plan. It is hard not to be home yet, but if it wasn't, I wouldn't long for Him as I do. I'm thankful for the struggle because I know He will use it to prepare me for Him.

Eucharisteo

The heavens declare

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Wo-shuns

There is something so satisfying in knowing my son has exhausted himself with lots of fresh air, a huge place to run and lots of water to swim in. I love watching him sleep after spending most of the day outside in the "wo-shuns" (his word for ocean). And there is something so amazing that comes with the realization that God provided all of this for his glory and our enjoyment. He just knew that we would love a warm sun, beautiful water, the sound of waves crashing against the shore, so He created it for us. He knew how much joy it would give me to watch my sweet boy sleep all curled up on the bed, breathing deeply, resting after a wonderful day enjoying God's magnificent creation...so He gave that to me. We truly have a loving and gracious heavenly Father.

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The Woman I Was

On February 27th last year I wrote an email to our family and friends. This was just a few days after we learned of my diagnosis with the AVM. I remember feeling terror the day my doctor told me, for at least the first few hours. The literature online was frightening. But after the dust settled I felt an overwhelming peace, a peace that could only have been present because of God's mercy. I felt from that day on into the next few months a strength in myself that I didn't know was possible. In the midst of that strength this is the email and Scripture I sent to our loved ones:

Dear Family,

God has been so merciful to us over the last few days. We have seen his hand over and over again interceding for us. So many people have reached out to us, and we have some very good leads regarding treatment for me in this difficult situation. In fact, you should be encouraged to know there are even people way out in California working on this for us. My Uncle Ray (who is a doctor) has already stepped in as my medical proxy and has really been looking out for my best interest. I am astounded, amazed and feeling so blessed. I have truly felt everyone's prayers.

I want you all to know something else. This is the first time that I have gone for a stretch of 3 days since my D&C without any bleeding whatsoever. I am so encouraged by this. I have been praying for a miracle. I know that God can do anything, and that is why I am asking for His healing. We are also still looking for a doctor who has had success treating this condition while preserving fertility if at all possible. We serve a God who is capable of all things. It is my hope and prayer that my condition is being healed even now by God. May it even be that the next test I undergo shows that there has been an improvement without having any medical intervention yet?

Please continue to pray that God will open my heart to accept whatever it is He wills for me, that I would remember any outcome is for my good. What a mighty God we serve.

In His mighty grip,
Aron, Megan & Ethan

Psalm 46

"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling. Selah There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High. God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved God will help her when morning dawns. The nations rage, the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice the earth melts. The LORD of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah Come, behold the works of the LORD, how he has brought desolations on the earth. He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow and shatters the spear; he burns the chariots with fire. “Be Still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations. I will be exalted in the earth!” The LORD of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah"

When I look back and think about that span of months, between the tests, the surgery, the healing, the waiting - I see a woman who was a far cry from the woman I see in the mirror today. Today, I reflect on those providences, the skilled surgeon a little over an hour from home, the multiple times God spared my life, the high risk pregnancy doctors with the wisdom only God could have given them to know what to do when, health insurance to pay for thousands upon thousands of dollars in medical treatments, family who sacrificed their time and gave so much love so unselfishly, and multiple other evidences of God's presence and His unmerited love for me, and I am amazed that I could still be such a hopeless child. I'm an Israelite wandering in the desert, forgetting about the manna God just gave me a few hours ago. I see the trials and hardships, and I forget about that sweet manna that He has always rained down on me every time I've needed it. Where is that woman who just couldn't wait to see what amazing thing God was going to do next? In her place there is a woman who expects so little from a God who is so mighty, a God who held on to me so tightly but so gently over the last 29 years. Where is my hope?

I say this not because I have given up, not because I want pity. In fact, it is completely the opposite. I say it because I want to be that woman again. And for some reason I feel that if I just "write it down" and see the words for myself all spelled out, maybe just maybe it will be the push I need to get back to that place - the place where I end a letter with the words "In His Mighty Grip," and I can really mean it.

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What Happens Next?

I keep an ultrasound picture of Walter up on our refrigerator. I look at it everyday. Some days I look at it, and I want to WANT to take it down and put it in the keepsake box I have for our little boy. But when I go and reach up to take it down I just can't do it. Because I just REALLY don't want to. I want it it to hang there forever even after I'm gone. I want the world to know he was real.

It is all so confusing to me. There is some part of me deep down inside that feels like if that picture isn't up there it will be as though Walter never existed. As it stands, there is so little that is tangible evidence of Walter's life...a little box of tattered ultrasound pictures, the blanket my mother made for him to be swaddled in, some sympathy cards, his hand prints in my Bible. It just doesn't seem right. There should be more.

I took one of the mini roses we had laid on his coffin and put it in a picture frame last week. We have a montage of family photos on our living room wall, but Walter isn't there. Instead across the room sits a frame with that rose in it, and I feel guilty. Because that rose belongs on the wall with the rest of our family. Walter should be on that wall with his brother. The frame doesn't have a hook to hang it on the wall so I left it sitting up on our wine cabinet. I need to hang that picture up with the rest of the family. Maybe I should just buy a new frame, one that I can hang on the wall. But I don't want to because that frame is for Walter; it's solid, firm, heavy, enduring. It was meant for Walter.

Maybe this all sounds a little crazy. Maybe it sounds scattered. I guess I'm still sifting through it all. I'm just trying to understand, and I don't know how to do any of this. I don't know the right way.

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And it came to pass

I'm sitting in the parking lot where I told Aron we were pregnant with Walter 6 months ago. It seems like such a long time ago. I think I was just in a completely different place mentally then. I was hopeful and ready to "try again."

Today and for the last few weeks, I have often felt low. I've been trying to decide whether or not to include this in my blog. It is deeply personal and not something I'm proud of - in fact, I would go as far as to say it is something I'm ashamed of...but then I considered the multitudes of women out there who are just like me, children of God who are lost in this same darkness, a darkness that just won't lift. I want those women to know they are not alone.

I'm still not certain how to approach this subject. There is a very real sense of emptiness and loneliness that often covers me. I can be surrounded in a room full of family and friends and still be alone. Even the most valiant efforts, hugs, words of love and affirmation, condolences just cannot contend with the cocoon of grief I find myself surrounded in.

One night last week, on an especially difficult night, my Mom came over and told me something my wise Grandma used to say: "the Bible says and it came to pass; it doesn't say and it came to stay." There are two things I remind myself of frequently now. My Grandma's wise words, and something else (from Ed Welch's book "Running Scared"): "Lord, I trust you."

I would like to be able to say that reminding myself of these two sentiments, the continuous daily conversations I've been having with God, and the time I've been investing in some wonderful resources on anxiety have cured me. But if I said that I would be lying.

I am learning constantly now just how human and weak I am in and of myself. I stare at my son's sweet sleeping face, smooth his beautiful blonde curls off his forehead and I feel a desperation well up inside me to be the kind of Mama he needs - a source of light, joy and peace, a place for him to find refuge from the things that frighten him. And in that moment I'm reminded how much more my Heavenly Father, who loves me with a love that is unmatched (far greater than the love I have for my son) wants to be my refuge, my "very present help in trouble," my Savior, my Daddy. But in my human-ness I am still too afraid to really say "I trust you, Lord" and fully mean it.

I know that He will "never leave...or forsake" me. I know that this is just another chapter in my life that will pass. I am just all too eager to put this one behind me.

I have been here before, in the place where it seems the darkness will go on forever, and I have also been lifted out of it. I've felt God reach for me, lift the clouds and surround me in the light and warmth of His presence.

So although right now I am weak and tired and feeling like I have nothing left, I know what I have to look forward to because I have been there before. And to be quite honest when I really stop and think about it, that is enough to give me peace tonight.

"Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you in turmoil within me?

Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my salvation and my God." Psalm 43:5

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When I Don't Have the Words

A few months ago, when we found out Walter would not live outside my womb, some dear friends of ours sent us a sympathy card that has continued to strike a chord with me.

It is difficult to put into words, looking back a couple months ago when I was still carrying Walter, what I was feeling. I didn't know how to think. I didn't know what to say to people. I used to try to formulate in my mind what I was going to say to anyone who heard I was pregnant and didn't know I was carrying a baby I would never raise. I didn't want anyone to feel awkward when I told them my baby wasn't going to live. I never did find the right words to explain it...

Even more difficult than this was my inability to pray. I didn't know what to say to God. I would often open my mouth to pray out loud, especially during family worship, and I just couldn't get the words out. Tears were about all I could manage.

In the midst of everything, we received a card in the mail from our friends. The front of the card said, "God doesn't wait for us to reach out, to ask for help, and get on our knees. God just goes ahead and takes our hands before we ask." The inside said, "He tells us what we need to hear: 'Don't be scared. I'm right here. Always have been, always will.'"

For the last few weeks of Walter's life I referred to those words often. I kept the card in the kitchen where I spend most of my day so that I could be reminded as often as I needed to.

Sometimes we just don't know how to pray or what to say, and it is a relief to have a Heavenly Father who intercedes for us, an omniscient God who knows our every need and desire even better than we do.

"For He knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust." (Psalm 103:14)

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