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Tuesday, April 19, 2011
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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Sunday, April 10, 2011
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.
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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Wednesday, March 2, 2011
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.
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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Monday, February 7, 2011
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
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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Friday, January 28, 2011
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)
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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Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Let the Healing Begin
Another day. Another doctor's appointment. I saw my OBGYN for a 2 week post delivery checkup today, and we received only good news.
All restrictions have been lifted. I can resume exercise and all other normal activities.
I still have headaches and my heel is still numb, but right now that doesn't even matter to me. I can pick up my son, it doesn't hurt to bend over, and I think I can see the sun beginning to shine.
He has given me so much more than I deserve.
All restrictions have been lifted. I can resume exercise and all other normal activities.
I still have headaches and my heel is still numb, but right now that doesn't even matter to me. I can pick up my son, it doesn't hurt to bend over, and I think I can see the sun beginning to shine.
He has given me so much more than I deserve.
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