'Tis the Season

This holiday season came with an unexpected wave of grief. I was surprised by it. The wave felt like it snuck up on me, catching me off guard. I woke up feeling tired, worn out, angry, and hurt...not knowing why I felt that way. I then realized at some point that the grief was here because the holiday time...Thanksgiving and Christmas, are supposed to be a time for family and friends gathering, and I expected my holidays to be much different. I imagined dressing Norah up in holiday clothes and bringing her around to family gatherings.

Sometimes I just don't know how to walk this thing out...what do I do with all of these emotions? My initial response is what we do as humans, I wanted to numb them and run away from them because I didn't understand why they were here. Then I realized, they were here to tell me something, to inform me and remind me of my loss. Instead of avoiding them, I need to embrace them and accept them as a normal response to this painful situation.

I would like to start a ritual where we honor Norah, even if it's just lighting a candle as a family. It feels honoring to her, but it also feels honoring to us as a family, that we haven't forgotten about our loss. And for this first holiday season, Thanksgiving and Christmas just aren't as bright and cheery as they normally are, and for me to accept this and be okay with it is important. Somehow lowering expectations of how I should be right now is okay, it helps me feel better in the midst of the pain.

I would imagine the day Norah died and her official due date will also be hard days. April 7th and May 4th...so instead of avoiding or numbing my emotions leading up to that day, I will embrace my emotions and grief, however they are. I don't expect every year to be super painful, and yet, those days are going to hold a special day in my heart as long as I live. And people who don't understand that obviously have not lost someone.

So this holiday season, let's honor those who have just lost loved ones, and to recognize that the time will feel a little emptier, a little less brighter, with their loved one there by their side. And instead of not talking about the person who died, let's honor them together. Let's be brave with each other and say that it's a bit dimmer without them here.

Identity Crisis

Something I have been realizing lately is that my identity over these last several months, especially after losing Norah, has taken quite the beating. I don't know how else to phrase that...it sounds pretty harsh, but it's how I have felt. Understanding who I am as a woman and all of my roles has turned out to be quite a confusing subject to me. Of course, I do what I am not supposed to do, which is look towards other women, and wonder why they seem to have it so "figured out." They seem to be perfectly happy or content being a stay-at-home mom, or a working mom, or the combination of both. I felt like I was on this track of having my identity evolve and change into a momma. I was looking forward to a much needed break, after spending 10 years on developing my career -- college, grad school, work experience, licensure, etc.

Then what was building up went crashing down. There was already a clash happening while I was pregnant, unsure of what it "looked like" to embody the different roles in my life, and not sure what tug felt stronger. Pregnancy was a time of readjustment for me, taking more and more focus off my career and more focus onto pregnancy, family, marriage/being a wife, and raising kids with my husband. Then I lost Norah. Who am I now? What role do I embrace and live out fully? What do I do with these dreams that have been put on hold? What season does God have me in now? As you can imagine, it has felt quite confusing. I know I don't have to choose one or the other, and that I can wear multiple hats and carry out multiple roles, but these last few months have felt like these different roles inside of me have been battling for who and what takes first place.

It feels like a delicate time, one that leaves me feeling impressionable and vulnerable. I feel so mold-able and unsure of myself at times. Although I'm an extrovert, I can also be very introspective and need lots of time during life transitions to internally process through what's going on inside of me. It may take hours, days or even weeks for me to come to a conclusion. But now, I feel like I am getting deeper understanding as to what is going on inside of me.

My identity of becoming a mom was awakened and snuffed out in this last year, leaving me feeling empty and unsure of how to move forward with my life. Yet when my career and being a mom compete, being a mom still wins. The thought of becoming a mother, becoming pregnant, being a step-mom, a wife, taking care of things at home -- this is a role I long to fulfill and everything else feels dimmer, secondary, and even a poor substitute. So, being a mom and wife are the most important roles in my life as a woman, even without Norah here with me because no matter how hard I try, I cannot "un-awaken" these dreams as they have been so clearly awakened in this last year. Now I just wait, and be a step-mom, and a wife and come to fully embrace who I am in those roles. Work is important to a degree, for providing for my family and maintaining my license, and I will do my best at it, but not at the expense of my family.

This still very much feels like a raw process, but I am just today coming out on the other side of this and I feel grateful for that today.

Update

I wanted to let people know how I am doing, for those of you following our blog. It has been 5 months since we lost Norah. As you can imagine, in some ways it feels like a long time and in other ways it feels very recent. I have learned much through this time of grieving and have gained deeper insight into who I am as a woman. I have also gained deeper understanding of human suffering and pain in general and this process has confirmed truths and dispelled myths of grieving and pain.

Surprisingly, I don't cry much anymore. When I think of the time in the hospital and even when I was home before going to the hospital, it doesn't bring up fear or suffering anymore. It is beginning to already feel like my past, and a previous and different chapter of my life than the current chapter of my life. I cry every once in a while and I cry in therapy when I am working through the memories. It feels good to have my grief contained, and not spilling over into every area of my life. I began going to therapy about 3 weeks after the event. I knew that I needed to reprocess through the trauma with the lens of truth and not have it hold fear, trauma, and suffering over my life.

I am able to function every day to some degree. I chose a lot of times to not give into my emotions to stay in bed all day. I wanted to find the balance between validating myself and yet not fully giving into despair. So hard sometimes! The day I came home from the hospital, which was 3 days after we lost Norah, Jason and I went to Target, and I rode around in the wheelchair thingy. I cruised around and looked for curtains for what was going to be Norah's room. Jason and I also laughed together every time I had to back up in Target, and the wheelchair would beep 3 loud times. When I got home, I began making plans with people to come over, and started coordinating with friends and family. I chose to let people in right away. Six weeks after I lost Norah, I began running. I went about 2 mph, but nonetheless, I started running. It felt good to not give into the lie that my body is not powerful and believe the truth that I can bounce back and have more babies. I wanted to run. I wanted to love my body, despite feeling the lie that it failed me. I wanted to overcome the feeling of powerlessness, and through running and getting back in shape, I did. I lifted weights, went to exercise classes, and chose to eat even when I wasn't hungry. I made decisions to bring my body back to health.

I say all of this to look back and be grateful for the choices that I made through this. Grief does not have to make us victims of our circumstances. I will be real and honest with myself when emotions come up, because believe me, I know that I'm not done grieving. I know emotions will still come up, especially in my next pregnancy. But, I feel like I'm in a good place right now. I don't want people to feel sorry for me; I want people to rejoice with  me, that I have experienced much healing these past 5 months!

And one last thing I have been thinking about quite a bit, is how my relationship with God and my husband has completely empowered me. I feel strong and able to face obstacles, because I know no matter what I am loved and accepted. If I didn't have someone like Jason here with me, every step of the way, it would be difficult. That's why I don't want others to compare their grief story to mine. First of all, we are all different and grieve differently. Secondly, I am super blessed to have an amazing husband, who is sensitive and incredibly supportive. How else would I be able to survive as a step mom, therapist, and new business owner? I also have an incredible support system outside of God and my marriage, with wonderful friends and family members.

Her Bloom

On Norah's due date weekend, Jason and I got away because friends of ours planned a getaway weekend. It was so wonderful. We laughed together and cried together, thinking about our precious Norah. That weekend the Lord spoke clearly to me and said to "let her go." He even told me to "lay her on the alter, as Abraham laid his son Isaac on the alter." So I did, but it was hard. I knew in the moment it wasn't a push from God to forget about my little girl and just sort of move on. I knew it was a gentle invitation to release unto Him what I couldn't possibly carry on my own. She is dead and I won't see her on this earth, and there needs to be a letting go of that ideal, that pain, the deep sorrow, etc. I can't possibly allow the weight of those emotions to crush me. I needed to release her life unto Him, even if it meant my arms were empty, my heart a bit jaded, and my soul bruised and sore. I knew in that moment it was a gentle invitation to have my arms and heart open towards the future life that he decides to place in my arms. It was a way to release the past in order to make room for the new. And honestly, that felt like a surrender I was willing to make. I needed the exchange of life for death.

Jason and I visited a vineyard during this weekend. When the woman at the vineyard was talking about the pruning process that the grapes go through, tears began swelling up in my eyes. She was talking about how the plants undergo pruning and they take most of the branches off, because they are looking for the quality of the grape, not the quantity. This deeply touched me and I knew that I wasn't crying because that's how wine is made; I was crying because I felt like that grape plant, that most of my "branches" were pruned off, and I knew God was going to use this horrific event to bring about such beauty, fragrance and quality. I am not saying God caused this to happen so that I could be molded and shaped for His glory...that's not who I think God is. However, I know God allowed it to happen, and I know evil exists in this world, and I know God redeems all things.

Jason wrote a poem that weekend that I have been wanting to share.
Here is the poem Jason wrote:
"Her Bloom"
The bloom was ready
Then the wind
Hail
Rain
torn away from
The stem
The future beauty
lay in the mud
The foliage remains
The stem strong
soon stronger
The roots Deep
now run Deeper
The bloom that
was lost
leads to something
more
Beautiful
She will bloom again

Yeah, amazing, I know. He has such a gift in writing and he observed and captured my process. He put words to the deep change I was going through. Sometimes when we feel like we are losing ourselves, we need others to put words to what we are going through, because there have been times I feel like I can barely get my head up to look in the mirror. I need to be reminded of who I am and what I am going through.

The concept of something being taken away and then restored back even stronger can only be a miracle done by God. No human can make the exchange. Even the worst and most painful of situations can be turned around. We had a powerful couple in the Lord pray for us after we lost Norah. Our dear friend, spoke a word through prayer that rattled me. He said, "There will be a manifold return. There will be justice for what was stolen." This means that not only what was lost will be restored, but God's justice means that even more will be repaid. It doesn't mean that any life, ministry will replace Norah. That will never happen. But it does mean that my hands and words will bring recompense, healing, and resurrection power to those whom I minister to, and I know that reward will bring Norah pleasure. She wants me move forward with boldness and strength from heaven. She will know that even when her mom was hurting that she still is brave.

Obedience and Abba; 4-30, 5-3, 5-4

Psalm 71:20-21

You who have made me see many troubles and calamities
    will revive me again;
from the depths of the earth
    you will bring me up again.
 You will increase my greatness
    and comfort me again.

     

     In Galatians 4:6 and Romans 8:15 it talks about how as sons of God our spirits cry out Abba Father. Abba is similar to saying Daddy here in America. I have heard many people refer to God as Daddy and have tried to call Him this and yet it has always felt unnatural. I can never recall a time in my life when I called my own father Daddy, he has always been Dad. One night at church this all changed on the forth of May. Exhausted after a month of recovering from Norah's death, God called me to the alter during worship and it was there I finally could call Him Abba, and it came from a very deep and vulnerable place of complete need. That night I was changed. He met me where I was in my weak state and he comforted me. I felt I was sitting at His feet touching His robe....it was amazing. I sat in my seat not ready to go up and yet I knew I was supposed to come. Had I not obeyed than I wold have missed out on something wonderful. Below are the three entries that have been highlighted to me to included in this post.

4-30-14

Having such a peace from God regardless of circumstances or environment is something i would love to posses, especially in my situation. I am thankful for the light shinning in the darkness.

Jason,

     You will learn a new way of obedience. You see that submission to me is where you find your peace. You are comforted by the thought of being submitted to me and that is a good sign for you. I am the Prince of Peace and in me there is no darkness. Keep listening to my voice and I will bring you to the still, deep waters of peace.

5-3-14

     With obedience comes freedom. Freedom to live in joy complete. Forgiveness is one of the greatest acts of obedience and the heavy chains of unforgiveness are removed. Daily cleaning is mandatory for the battles that lie ahead. Remove the enemy from the camp and than move forward in the battle.

5-4-14

Two year anniversary, wow, thank you Daddy. Daddy, I learned last night what this finally means. At church last night I felt like the Spirit was calling me up to be with God at the alter. I went up but didn't feel comfortable being in the front, so I stopped and kneeled right at the front seat. Pastor Bill saw me and said to everyone "If you want to worship here [up front], its open." So I did. When I kneeled at the steps I started to worship Him and cry out to Him in freedom. At one point I realized that I needed to be near my Daddy. The greatest treasure I have here on earth and Heaven is to be near to my Daddy. I felt so close to Him. I am learning to receive from Him. The moments when God invites you to up with Him are wonderful.

4 Months Out

Jason and I are about 4 months out from Norah's death. I have not written a blog in what feels like a while. Today I feel pulled to type out how I feel. Jason and I have described these last few weeks as feeling harder than the first month. We aren't being carried anymore; we're walking. And walking is tiresome, takes energy, perseverance, and strength I didn't know existed inside of me. There's also the prospect of trying for children soon, which takes on it's own emotions, pretty much every emotion in the book. Add some hormones into that recipe along with grief, and you get the picture, a broken mess -- me.

Anger still is strong. So much so that I took a cardio kickboxing class on Sunday, punching the air as though I could envision punching circumstances and occasionally people's faces. How's that for total honesty?

I feel God calling me deeper, to fill a deeper place. The hardest part for me, right now in all of this, is to want to fill the deep emptiness with something other than God. It doesn't have to be anything crazy, like drugs, but things other than God -- my own control, for example. And when hope feels low and the emptiness is real, there is a challenge to the faith that comes. God, can you really fill all my emptiness? Can you really heal the deepest recesses inside of me? And if so, why does it feel that instead of hope coming in like a rushing wave it's coming in like a trickling stream, taking painful amounts of patience?

Deep grief pushes tears out of you from places you never knew existed. I've begun to wonder when the tears will end and how many wrinkles will be formed from my crying faces (I think that's supposed to be sarcastic). Never before have I felt so pushed, challenged, forced to live in a place of faith.

But the mercies are new everyday. Even when grief rolls over into the next day, the mercies are still there. Hope trickles in slowly. I feel like I have come through some rite of passage through this time, surviving the un-survivable, living through the unlivable, and somehow I am still in one piece.

The Streams in the Desert devotional has been very helpful. I'll share this from July 26th:
"There are times when things look very dark to me -- so dark that I have to wait even for hope. It is bad enough to wait in hope. A long-deferred fulfillment carries its own pain, but to wait for hope, to see no glimmer of a prospect and yet refuse to despair; to have nothing but night before the casement and yet to keep the casement open for possible starts; to have a vacant place in my heart and yet to allow that place to be filled with no inferior presence -- that is the grandest patience in the universe. It is Job in the tempest; it is Abraham on the road to Moriah; it is Moses in the desert of Midian; it is the Son of man in the Garden of Gesthsemane."

So, here I wait.

Carried: 04-16,17, 20

Song of Solomon: Jesus Culture

All through the valleys

Through the dark of night

Here you come running

To hold me till its light

Below are three entries. The main theme and a revelation I have had is  the way the 'body of Christ' has carried us through this. I believe Nancy is still alive today because of the prayers of the saints. Many people  were ready to help us through by sending cards, cleaning the house, bring food, helping financially and many other ways. We all have a role to play in our lives and yet the importance of having a 'family' to get you through is vital. The outpouring that came from our Brothers and Sisters in Christ was amazing and it was and is a new way that I experienced Jesus in a tangible way. That is why i call it a revelation, it became real to me. I have so many brothers and sisters, not just at the church I attend but all over and in many different places. Finally, I have a few 'free-writing'  poems that i wrote in my journal that I included

4-16-14

     Yesterday was a hard day. Not sure what today will bring but I feel a little lighter today. Feeling carried by the body physically and in prayers. Its helped to have the kids here with us. Thank you Father for your provision. I am overwhelmed. I have a better understanding of community, family and what the body of Christ is today than I had a few days ago. There has been beauty in all of this sorrow. Many angels have come and continue to come. Thank you Lord.

4-17-14

His Body Carries Us

As we enter a new valley

Shadowed by death,

they greet us.

My legs feel week and heavy.

My arms are tired and

my back aches.

The heaviness I feel in my heart

makes it hard to push through this lonely place yet

they are with us.

With each advance

they walk with us and

some carry us.

We cling to one-and-other.

His light shines through their eyes.

Each reveals the fullness of

His Body and

 His Love.

 His  life is manifest

through each one,

one-by-one.

4-20-14

     Two weeks since Norah's Death and Nancy's trauma (and mine).

     This valley is new to me. The last valley was one in which Jesus walked through with me in a personal way. After getting through I've learned and have been learning to walk close to Him on an every moment basis. [In] this valley, He has manifested Himself through other people. The outpouring of people and how they have carried Nancy and I through all of this is at times unbelievable.....and overwhelming, and here I thought we didn't have family. I also now have a better understanding of why we left where we were to be at Lighthouse. Before He taught me dependence on Him, now He is teaching me dependence on His 'Body'. I couldn't even cry the way I needed without other men helping me. This is new and wonderful.

     People keep telling me how strong my faith is and yet I can't help but think that i can't take the credit (I do know I love the Lord and have a strong faith) but through this His grace is bigger than me and the sustaining power is coming from the love, support and prayers of others. Many, many good Samaritans nursing us back to health...

 Not Alone-Carried by Their Prayers

As I start the journey

through the Valley of the

Shadow of Death the

pain in my heart buckles my knees.

 All strength leaves

In a pool of tears.

 It's then they pick me up and

carry me through during

this dark and painful journey.

 Although all different,

they have the same light

in their eyes, although

their hearts ache,

love flows out to me.

They help carry my Bride who

feels the weight of joy

dry away form her

chest.

Christ in flesh, Hosanna

His body,

His church

My Brothers and Sisters

I am not alone

Pain and Dreams

Today my heart is in pain. I think it may be in pain everyday, but the quiet moments of the day, when Jason is at work and the house is empty, the silent echoes back to me, reminding me that Norah is not here. I look out the window and still wonder, "Why me?" I know the classic answer, "You will probably never have the answer to that question" ...well, that answer sucks and it doesn't bring me any relief. I hurt and I have an emptiness inside like no other. Every cell of my body put forth effort in making my little girl, every cell of my body loved her and ached to hold her. Every cell went through trauma and grief, and every cell and part of me still loves her. So what am I supposed to do with that? What am I supposed to do with this silence and pain? Sleep it away, numb it, something has to work.

I know the Christian "pad answer" is to say that God can come and fill this place, but God isn't a baby. He doesn't coo, need his diaper changed and be mothered by me. What if I didn't want her to go? Didn't I ever get a say in this.

Of course I know there are no answers to these questions, and I don't want any more answers to those questions. All I want is for this pain to go away so I don't have to be tempted at every corner to fill it, numb it, explain it away, stuff it, the list could go on.

And this constant irritation and agitation I have with people and circumstances. I have described to Jason that I feel like a "ticking time bomb." I know this is due to a number of factors, such as hormones, grief, sadness and anxiety that come with grief, fear of the unknown, etc etc. I want to be back to myself, but I don't know who me is after going through this. I feel like a raw, vulnerable, emotional mess.

Last night Jason reminded me of my dreams. He reminded me of my future and what I am capable of. I feel like such a hot mess most of the time, that my future dreams feel out of grasp and so far in the distance. But when he reminded me of my dreams, I felt my spirit leap inside, and I was excited for moments. You mean to tell me that I'm not always going to feel this way? This won't be my life forever? Grief gives you a short-shortsightedness at times, and you can be blinded of your future and the hope that is being held over moments and memories yet to be experienced. My heart craves for dreams to be fulfilled and happy memories to be in the near future.

Today a woman told me that maybe something would have been wrong with Norah. I had another woman tell me several weeks ago that maybe I wasn't ready to have a baby. Instead of raging at both of these women (like I wanted to), I gave them a blank stare and waited a minute to respond. I said, "Norah was the most beautiful, perfect baby. She had no defect; nothing was wrong with her." That made them shut up.

In the silence of the day, my heart aches. In the busyness of the day, my heart is dulled but still aches. I have become obsessed with a child I never had.

I held my beautiful niece in my arms last week. The first thing I noticed about her was that she was warm, and it felt so good to feel the warmth against my body. That night I stayed up till 2:30 in the morning, researching abruptions and how they happen, only to walk away with more questions. I woke up not feeling any better, having the remnants of anxious thoughts from the night before.

I feel like I have to let go of a child I never was able to fully hold. I feel like I have to empty out even more my empty arms.

These are my words to my Norah:
Norah,
No time or distance will make it okay that you are not here with me. No future child will ever replace you. My heart searches out for something in this world that can dull the pain and make this feel better, but I can't find anything. You're living in glory and I'm living in suffering. Pray for me, that joy would make its way to my heart again and fill my every cell. I know I need to dream again, but I haven't wanted to dream without you. I know people tell me to not feel guilty for moving on. It's not that I feel guilty. I feel devastated that you aren't apart of my dreams and my future on this earth.
Because of your loss, I feel your glory shine through me like facets of a diamond. Not one flat stone, but broken up surfaces, shining at all angles out of me. I feel like the light has been dimmed in me and I'm barely hanging onto the faith I have, so I pray to God he would strengthen the light inside of me.
I love you my child, so so so much.
Hugs,
Mommy

April 7th - April 12th

Posted below are two entries from my journal (Jason's journal). Just some background: The morning before we lost Norah (April 7th) I was struggling to trust God with somethings as you will read in my journal. I believe Father God is developing in us, as we mature as God's children, an unshakable faith. I am not saying that what happened  to Nancy and I was part of God's plan to make us stronger nor will I draw definite conclusions about why all of this has happened. I have found it is best to be honest with God in regards to my struggles and doubts. All I know is that we lost our baby girl and God is still good. He knows I struggle and he is there ready to walk through the dark valleys with me. The blessing in the pain is that it is those moments He can be more real than anything else in my life and the intimacy I share with him is everything I long for in life.  Through all of this, as I hold onto Jesus, what was meant for harm makes me stronger. Also, I struggle with different issues and at times I have my doubts and yet he wants to struggle through those with me. So, you may notice I can be very honest with God even when it seems my faith is weak. I don't want to wrestle with doubt alone so I struggle through doubt with him, naked and unashamed. Finally, awhile ago, God told me to stop justifying myself to other people and to be at peace with him. I can't make everyone understand my life or the things I do but if my Heavenly Father understands and approves than everything is good. With that, here is my two entries:

4-7-14

Father, help me to hear you clearly and to have wisdom and understanding. I have battled fear and mistrust when it comes to my understanding of your word and how it applies to my life. I think of Paul and the horrific things he went through. I ask myself "what things will I have to suffer because of obedience?" And yet who can I trust but you? Help me with my lack of understanding and help me to trust you. Help me to rightly understand suffering.

Jason,
     I am not mad at you, nor do I want to drown you. As you learn to walk I will pick you back up. I love you. Trust me, i will never leave nor will I forsake you. Give me a chance to show you and remember what I have shown you.
     I love you!

This was the struggle I had and what I needed to hear from the Lord at about 530 in the morning just before I was to leave for work. About an hour later, Nancy started to have problems with the pregnancy and at about 800 am we were informed we lost our baby. Like I said earlier, God did not cause this to happen to teach me trust or what I must suffer for obedience. He showed Himself faithful through a horrific event and I learned I can trust Him through a terrible time in our life. The next entry was what I wrote the Saturday morning after the loss of Norah.

4-12-14

I am often afraid of the suffering of this world and at times have wondered about the suffering I will experience because of my faith in my Jesus...

      On Monday, the 7th of April, Nancy and I lost our baby girl Norah. Nancy was 34 weeks pregnant, we almost lost Nancy's life. Even with her life intact we almost lost Nancy's ability to have more children. Suffering and pain are a part of the world we live in, its unavoidable, Yet there is great and amazing beauty that does not eliminate the pain but does overshadow it.  Through all of this I may never understand why this happened but I can say that my God is good and I can trust Him. He is the only one who can make promises that will never be broken. His word is 100% trustworthy and it is the only sure foundation I have. He is holding me in his arms and He is walking very close [with me] through all of this. 

I love you Jesus

I Love you Abba

and I love you Holy Spirit

I love you God.

Beloved and Beautiful one,

      You are mine and you are clothed in the spotless robes that my Son bought for you on Calvary. I have felt the pain of losing a child and I am grieving with you. I know this doesn't change this season or eliminate the pain but she is here with me and you will be united with her again, she loves her Mommy and Daddy and knows how much you loved and love her. I am proud of you and am with you, so much. You are a good son. We will walk through this together. Thank you for trusting me and reaching out to me, I Love you Jason.

My Contribution

For a while now I have felt that I am to contribute to this blog. I have taken comfort in reading the posts that my Nancy has written and I am amazed by her ability to put everything going on inside of her in a eloquent and beautiful way. I do not posses the same gifting that she has. As I write I get lost some where and lose my train of thought and yet I hear God asking me to contribute to this blog.

This morning when I woke I heard God say to me "I desire to spend time with you Jason" and my response was the same. My alone time with God in the morning is so vital to me, I love Father God so much and am so glad I get to spend time alone with him almost everyday. My strength, joy, peace and many other things come from Him. This warms my heart. A few years ago the life I knew was completely destroyed, like a tornado destroys a home so my life was destroyed by a divorce. During the time of rebuilding, God became real to me. This revelation of intimacy with God was and is amazing. I finally experienced a tangible  reality of God in my life. I could feel His presence and could hear His voice more clearly. Intimacy with God is intoxicating in a good way. Jesus is my closest friend and companion, even as I write this I know He is here with me, I sense His presence with me. So, in the midst of tragedy, God became real  and He restored me and blessed me with my amazing and beautiful wife, He is so good. Not sure why i am sharing all of this other than to say that in the midst of great pain God is close to the brokenhearted but I believe the brokenhearted will miss the blessing if they don't turn to Him, that is a tragedy and yet I understand why we don't turn to him in our pain. 

So....this morning after I made a journal entry I went back in my journal and read some of my previous entries and it was then God made it clear to me what I was to share on this blog: my journal entries starting with the entry the morning before losing Norah and selected ones thereafter. I will start sharing this week. Thank you and God bless you~Jason

Butterfly

My step daughters, Samantha and Sarah, have a love for the outdoors. They love dragon flies, bugs, plants, flowers, caterpillars, and their very favorite - butterflies. They have their dad to thank for this because he has introduced them to these little critters while spending time outside with him.

Samantha especially takes a liking to butterflies, and will even get clothes that have butterflies on them. It's funny, because butterflies will land on her and stay on her hand. They won't fly away. The girls and their dad had the idea of taking caterpillars and bringing them inside our home, putting them in a butterfly net house, and having them form cocoons...and then the obvious stage of becoming butterflies.

So it became this process of them forming their cocoon and waiting. They had two caterpillars, and the caterpillars eventually formed a cocoon. Once this happened, the girls would like to check multiple times a day to see what was happening.

And then the real excitement began. The first cocoon became a butterfly. The girls were so excited, especially Sammy. But, as I looked at the butterfly, something was wrong. Its wings hadn't formed completely. We thought maybe give the butterfly a couple of days to let the wings spread out, but they stayed shriveled up. Sammy even referred to the butterfly books she read, and said the wings would get all better and the butterfly would be okay. The last day the butterfly was alive was a very sad day indeed. Sammy came crying to us and said the butterfly broke its leg and she realized the butterfly wasn't going to live. She cried and cried and cried...and then cried some more. Her crying seemed like it was more than just the butterfly.

And then I thought of our family's loss of Norah. Norah was in my tummy for days and months and there was the anticipation and excitement of seeing her, and then she wasn't able to fully form in this world. She didn't "get her wings and fly." I think Sammy's tears were a deeper representation of the loss she felt about Norah.

I forgot about the second butterfly. But the girls didn't. It was the very first thing they did when they got home today. They checked the butterfly. And behold, there was a beautiful swallowtail butterfly, fully formed, living, and now able to live outdoors. The girls will set this butterfly free outside with their dad.

I felt God whispering to me in this to hold onto the promise. Don't let the first experience be the author of your story. Trust in me and I will give you the desires of your heart.

So I trust and wait. I'm still struggling. I still feel deep pain. I am still so so sad and disappointed. But, the vision for the future keep me anchored.

The Everyday

I realized I haven't written a blog for a while. Life has been moving at a faster pace this month, between my brother James getting married, to a concert, grad parties, and other events. This weekend will be the first weekend back to "normal" and I am looking forward to relaxing and being in my usual routine. Also, I started working again last Monday and that has taken some energy. The first day back I shed some tears with clients and we gave each other hugs, and then I put my own issues on a shelf, and told them to tell me all about them and their own issues...it was a nice break from my own! I feel that as I'm getting a bit older and have more experience in the mental health field, I recognize my own strengths, limitations, and how I can be most effective. I definitely am more effective when I am transparent and genuine with people.

I also have noticed that I have been doing lots of things and projects around the house. This feels very therapeutic for me. Jason just tells me to not analyze it, but just live it. I keep on hearing the voice of God say, "Just let things run through your system." I don't have to label things as right, wrong, or indifferent; I just need to accept whatever stage I'm at and let things run through my system -- to not put a label or judgment on it. That is freeing for me!

We converted Norah's room to an office and I put up gender neutral curtains and decorations in there, so when I look over there I don't see the loss of a dream. I see the loss of my little girl and delayed dreams. I can live with that truth. Surprisingly, when I look at the office now, I don't get sad. I feel like each week I am getting stronger. I feel like I have more energy, which is amazing. After being pregnant for 8 months and then heavy grieving for about 3 months, I forgot what it felt like to have a normal amount of energy! It feels good to be able to do things, work some, and hang out with the kids.

A prayer request I would have during this time is medical/doctor stuff. I am going to a high risk pregnancy doctor in 3 weeks to do a pre-pregnancy consultation. We are going to be working with a high risk pregnancy doctor from Abbott both before and during my next pregnancy. I'm also going to a natural/holistic doctor today. I feel like I need to go today and I've had this appointment set up for a month, but I'm not sure what to expect. Jason and I are needing wisdom with how to move forward. Thanks friends!

Faith & Healing

After Norah's death, my mind and faith got rocked about healing, my faith journey, and what it looks like to overcome. I knew almost from the beginning that God was going to be taking me on a journey of healing and faith towards wholeness. At first, I wanted the whole path laid out for me. Okay God, what does this look like? How will it end? What do you want me to do? And I didn't hear anything. I thought, there has to be a doctor, a person who has the answer and will provide me with assurance that this won't happen again, as long as I do A, B, C and D. But I heard nothing. God has spoken his promises to me, but he hasn't laid out a clear plan.

All He keeps talking to me about is faith. Faith and healing. Not being overcome by despair and hopelessness. Losing the battle and not losing the war. Faith and healing can be a controversial topic in the church. Those who go after healing can be considered radical people, and yet, I know of people who have, though Jesus Christ, healed people of cancer. I believe in that. I believe in a God of miracles, one who has storehouses in heaven, full of what is lacking on this earth. I believe there are angels who are waiting for us humans to step up to the plate and contend for healing and call down heaven. 

Then there's the practical, everyday, walking out journey of faith...where the rubber hits the road. I think this is the hard part. We hear these testimonies of God healing people and then we pray for healing. I know people who have been believing God for healing, and instead of it being a one-time prayer thing, it has turned into a healing journey. And I'm a therapist, so I understand that emotional issues can lead to physical issues, so instead of just addressing the physical condition, sometimes the emotional condition needs to be healed first. 

I was just talking to Jason this morning, that as a therapist and working in the mental health field for 7 years, I have seen all sorts of people. I see people who work hard towards their goals, owning them, wanting to change, grow, and heal. And then, I have seen more than my fair share of people who don't really want to change. They want to blame others for their problems, and they want me to fix them, as though I have some magical wand to take away their problems. I call that entitlement and laziness, unwilling to walk out their own healing journey, and expecting others to carry their load. No thanks. 

Today I read this in my devotional:

"The reason so many fall in this experience of divine healing is because they expect to have it all without a struggle, and when the conflict comes and the battle wages long, they become discouraged and surrender. God has nothing worth having that is easy. There are no cheap goods in the heavenly market. Our redemption cost all that God had to give, and everything worth having is expensive. Hard places are the very school of faith and character, and if we are to rise over mere human strength and prove the power of life divine in these mortal bodies, it must be through a process of conflict that may well be called the birth travail of a new life."

I have been asking God the keys to healing and walking in faith. I'm not talking any type of faith; I am talking the kind of faith that breaks the power of death, brings healing to the physical body, and accesses the resurrection power of Jesus Christ. I am talking about the kind of faith that brings victory in the most dire of circumstances. 

And yet, my emotions will have fear and anxiety. And yet I feel so weak at times. I know I can't live this life of faith without the very grace of my Maker, giving me every extra boost along the way. I can't expect him to take away my every fear. I am the one needing to walk out the process of speaking truth over myself and my circumstances. I do believe there are times God carries us. I do believe there are times he just lets us rest and he does the work. But I also believe that living in the Promised Land is the process of crossing the threshold, where God no longer carries us, but he asks us to walk in faith, facing our giants, and crushing them under our feet with his authority. 

I know there are days to come where I will need to be carried and I am not opposed to that. I know there are days where his grace will be what gets me out of bed and has my feet hit the floor. I fully recognize that God is made perfect in my weakness and it's okay for me to admit when I have bad days. Sometimes, I feel that when someone commits to walking a life of faith, they stop becoming real and just saying, they are having a bad day, that they somehow have to keep this act going that they are okay, as if God is convinced of it. I want to be genuine. But I also want to be made strong, having faith for the impossible, and I want to build others' faith in their own journeys.

God, I pray for more keys, more understanding on this journey of faith. I pray you would show me what unlocks healing, miracles, and faith to believe the impossible can be made possible. I pray for strength and courage in my own journey, that I would hope for the best and that you would be with me, every step of the way.

The Deep Ache

My heart feels empty this morning, aching and longing for someone I cannot have. It feels practically unbearable. The emotions translate to my body, and my body even aches and hurts. I feel completely emptied. I understand why people are addicted to things - drugs, sex, food, people, shopping, drinking, and the list could go on and on. I see how when people feel this emptiness, they run to things to numb this feeling, to make it go away. They want to somehow dull the ache and escape the depth of their emotions. If not filled with hope, it quickly goes to despair, hopelessness, depression, and pain. I have begun to recognize when I feel the emptiness. It used to scare me but now I know I can fill it with God's love, light, peace, joy, and life. This is the number one reason I know God is so real, because after all the studying of psychology, counseling, human brokenness, societal issues, social work, the mental health system, and seeing clients for several years -- the only solution to the deep ache and longing in our human condition is Jesus. No other thing, person, drink, food, clothing item, next endeavor, nothing, nothing, nothing can fill this place.

God isn't a side thing for me; He's all things for me. I haven't been perfect in this. I have run to different things throughout this time, expecting and hoping it dulls the pain...and it does for a while. But God comforts those deep places, and that is how he created me/us...to be needed in the emptiness, the ache, longing, the desert, wilderness...whatever we want to call it.

And let's not forget another weapon I have. It's called faith, and it believes in what cannot be grasped or seen yet. It not only fills the empty places with hope, but it casts my vision onto the future with a heart full of promises. It causes my eyes to look to the hills, to be so emboldened to see my future with the promises fulfilled. To not be beat up by the crashing waves or the circumstances. So not only can my heart be filled but my vision can be restored. Faith is a supernatural ability to believe in God's goodness amidst the hardship. It's an ability that does not come from my own resources but is powered by the Holy Spirit. I rest in what God says and the faith He works out in me will be the weapon against fear, discouragement, and hopelessness. Today He brought me to Hebrews 11, to remind me of the faith stories that have gone before me. God promises me vindication, restoration, and He promises me natural children. I cling to these promises so they may battle my fears. The enemy's greatest weapon against us is fear. From fear he plants doubt, despair, disappointment, and all of the other things related to that. My greatest weapons are faith and love - because faith fights fear and love casts it out.

Lord, let my roots grow deeper in you. Let my garden grow richer, more colorful and more fragrant. Let my experiences in you deepen, so that when I see you face to face, it will be as though we are familiar friends, reuniting once again.

Baby Steps & Changes

Today I am a step mom (can we just say mom...and kids instead of step-kids), therapist (starting again at the end of the month), wife, and friend. I am finding that I didn't have a plan B...I only had a plan A. I am finding that I don't really know what to do with my future. It feels weird just going back to work without being a mommy. I was planning on work being a part-time side thing and mommy being first priority. I was looking forward to that change, so what do I do now? I'm glad I have our family. In a lot of ways I do take care of the kids like they are my own...laundry, grocery shopping, cleaning, baths, clothes shopping, cleaning up the house and their bedroom after I found out they have head lice, pray for their hearts, sing them songs before they sleep at night, pray over them, cry for them, etc. etc. (Just as a side note: Jason does a lot of work around here too...his list is probably twice as long as mine). So...I am a mom...but only 50% of the time. Do I move forward in my career and keep moving forward with that? Do I write a book? Quite honestly, I don't have the answers to these questions. I mean, maybe I just workout and go to the pool...that's what I'm doing today.

At this point, I am just processing. I have not come to any arrived decision, nor do I expect the answer to come from people. I know God will show me, and I know it's my own journey of womanhood/motherhood and everything else in between. I have thoroughly enjoyed being away from work, and I am quite surprised by that. I have worked hard towards something since I was young, and have worked since I can remember, so I anticipated that not working would have challenged the way I viewed myself and worth. I thought maybe I found too much meaning in working, performing, helping others...but little did I know, that along the way, God brought healing to my heart and I think I am just fine being. I don't get my value from the way I perform; I get my value and worth from something much deeper and from something much more eternal. I can be a woman at rest and be okay with myself. Now, don't get me wrong, I like to work towards something, I like working hard even, whether it's around the house or at work, but it's not my lifeline, or even close to it.

There's a place for every woman - the working mom, the stay at home mom, the part-time mom, the breast feeding mom, the non-breast feeding mom, the aunt who is like a mom, the mom with babies only in heaven, the mom who gets angry, the mom who has lost herself and wonders where she went, the mom who gets c-sections, the mom who has vaginal delivery with drugs, the mom who has vaginal delivery without drugs, the mom who becomes just like her mom, and the list could go on and on. I'll just stop there, and say there's a lot of room and there's a lot of grace.

I don't know what category I fit in right now. All I know is that I am a mom, and being a mom is my first heart's desire right now.

Hollow to Full

The experience of being emptied and feeling hollow feels hopeless at first, like a cruel trick being played on you. But then, after time passes, you realize that you are becoming filled up again, slowly different things come trickling into my soul and spirit that fill this empty place. It's in the secret place with God, under the shadow of his wings, in the shelter of my Almighty that I see the pieces of my heart mending back together.

When I open my eyes to see in this storm, I see rewards. I see God moving in our family, His Spirit breathing on the dead places that have felt hopeless. I see the kids' relationship with God come alive and active, becoming their own relationship. I feel more connected to heaven, like the cord of faith that is attached between earth and heaven has been strengthened to never be broken again. I see myself coming into this woman who has the courage to become a mother and declare life and wholeness over her womb and identity as a mom. I see determination and experience in the mirror, a new depth in my eyes, and of course some tiredness and sadness still. The winds of the storm have a way of blowing away the good things, the bad things, and the old things...but the winds of the storm do not blow away the seed, the eternal things, the unshakable things, and the new things in life yet to come. The storm is rendered powerless to the latter and I am beginning to see the new life that will come from this place, and it is more powerful than anything man-made; it's an unshakable kingdom that God has established inside of me. It's powerful enough to tear down principalities and overcome darkness in a way that I haven't known before, and it's inside of me. It's not found outside of me, in this ever-changing world. It's the living, breathing cornerstone inside of me that bursts forth in light and splendor.

My heart is still sad; I still feel shaky and anxious about my future. But I do feel thankful to be alive, to be a mom, and for the ability to have more children. Grieving has an interesting impact on people. There's a paradox where it totally destroys you, tests you, overcomes you...and then you come out on the other side, and in some cases, stronger and more valiant than ever before.

I read this today in a devotional that a friend gave me, Streams in the Desert.
"Testings are raining upon me which seem beyond my power to endure. Disappointments are raining fast, to the utter defeat of all my chosen plans. Bereavements are raining into my life, which are making my shrinking heart quiver in its intensity of suffering. The rain of affliction is surely beating down upon my soul these days.

Withal, friend, you are mistaken. It isn't raining rain for you. It's raining blessing. For, if you will but believe your Father's Word, under that beating rain are springing up spiritual flowers of such fragrance and beauty as never before grew in that stormless, unchastened life of yours.

You indeed see the rain. But do you see the flowers? You are pained by the testings. But God sees the sweet flower of faith which is upspringing in your life under those very trials."

I rest in these words today knowing that matchless, unending, unshakable beauty will emerge from the dark night of my soul. This reality gives me the hope and strength to move forward in a brave way.

The Anchor

The only thing that heals my bleeding heart is love. Love, understanding, acceptance, patience, hope, trust, safety, true friendship, and extra doses of love. In a world where we are told to be everything else but ourselves. In a world where we can't fully be and are expected to do; this is my healing ground. In a world where we are pressured to perform. I have found that I have to be my advocate. I have to express what I'm feeling, otherwise I am bottled up inside and there is no translation for my bleeding heart. There's nothing worse than feeling alone in grief; it's a sure way to spiral down fast.

What my soul and spirit needs is an anchor, a place on the inside that brings unprecedented peace. The anchor brings consistency, safety, assurance, clarity and so much more. The anchor holds me down with the crashing waves. When I feel anchored, there is a security that rests in me. It calms anxiety. There is a recognition that I, on my own, am not capable of doing this by myself. There's a recognition that there is a much greater, all-powerful, and capable counterpart that has my back and will get me through all things. There is a firm foundation and a rock that blesses my soul, flourishing the inner most parts of who I am. His name is Jesus and he is the realest, most tangible person I know. Thank you Jesus, for being my closest friend, my biggest ally, my powerful partner, and my devoted lover. Although I cannot see you in this room with me physically, I know you are here. I see you with my eyes of faith. And you are the most complete and perfect Being who can fulfill my every need. You come into those empty places and fill me with all sorts of good things. I am so relieved to call you my closest friend. Thank you for being so available and close and perfect. Thank you for your unselfish love, your empathy, listening ears and understanding. You owe me nothing and yet you give me everything. Thank you for taking care of my little girl. She is so happy with you and you are a good God, a trustworthy God. When my heart aches you are here. You are so faithful. My longings and desires for company and complete intimacy are here, with You.

Yesterday my step son Jake had a heavenly vision. He is very sensitive to the spiritual realm. He described what he saw and explained it to me. He saw a golden gate with two angels. He then saw Norah, my little girl. When asked what she looked like, he said she had curly red hair and a dress made of jewels. He then saw a bunch of children and said that these children died when they were little. He saw animals that talked. He then saw Jesus, wearing robes.

"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God."

Lord, open my eyes even more, to be able to see you. Remove the veil from my eyes. Thank you for Jake; what a blessing he is, beyond what I could have asked for in a son. Thank you that Norah is safe and sound in your arms, that no matter where she goes in heaven or what she does, that she can see the face and talk to the anchor of her soul, that she can know true love in her very first breath, and peace floods and encompasses her being every moment of every day. Thank you that she knows me and recognizes me. And even more, thank you that she will always know you.

Guilt

I just discovered last night that I have been feeling guilt this last week. I have felt this cloud over me, this weight on my shoulders, anger and frustration with myself. I have felt the weight of guilt - and I would even say false guilt and shame. Guilt and shame that doesn't belong to me but has tried to sneak its way into my mind - "maybe there's something I could have done," "I shouldn't have done that while pregnant," "I should have done this while pregnant." These feelings of guilt are quite overpowering and irrational, but in the moment they feel like the realest thing.

I have needed friends to remind me that this wasn't my fault. I spoke with a friend today who said that Satan attacks moms when it comes to making them feel guilty, that every mom, on some level, has regrets and feels guilty about their children. That maybe if they would have done something different, that wouldn't have happened to their child. To think I caused something as big as Norah losing her life is a pretty self-centered thought, that I had that much control, especially when I was trying to do everything right. There's only so much I can do and the rest is outside of my control.

Oh yes, and the word control. What can I control, plan, predict, do, etc etc? I would love to think I'm in lots of control and I love to plan, but there are many things that are not up to me. And Lord have mercy, that can drive me nuts.

Guilt and shame block you from experiencing intimacy and love on a deeper level because it says, "there's something wrong with me," and "I'm not good enough." That leaves me feeling frustrated with myself, and literally, like I have a dark cloud over me, shackles on my feet, and a boulder on my shoulders. I have been carrying around guilt; I have been carrying around unnecessary baggage this past week. I have gone through circumstances leading up to Norah's death with a fine tooth comb, wondering if something was manipulated that the outcome would have been different. I can just see how this way of thinking put up more blocks in my relationship with God. He's calling me back to not carry the weight of guilt, to give all of this over to him. And he's doing the most comforting thing of all, reminding me that he's in control and I am not. Feeling small in his arms is a comforting feeling. Peace washes over me and I feel like I can pull up for air and breathe.

I think there are people who live their life in guilt. Who feel responsible for everything bad in their life. I can't imagine carrying around that heavy weight for longer than a week. A week is long enough, and I'm laying it down. I do not want to be in this haze any longer, where I can't think straight. I need clarity and peace and the assurance that Nancy does not control all that is in her world. I can control certain aspects and God will have to teach me what they are, because right now, I need to lay it all down.

Numb

Today I feel numb. I feel like my head is floating above my body and I can't seem to think straight. Carrying a conversation is hard and takes a lot of effort and focus. It becomes too much to think about. I also like to have things figured out and it really really bothers me that I cannot figure this one out. I don't know how to move forward, what to do from here. There are different stages of grief. Can I be in all of the stages at the same time? Shock, anger, depression, denial, acceptance...oh and there are 7 stages in another model that add reflection and isolation/loneliness. I feel tired and worn down today physically, like I ran a marathon or did something taxing physically. It feels like my body, mind, emotions and all of me is grieving without my consent, like I don't have a say in this. I don't have to think about it or even focus on it. I can try numbing myself but it's still here. I also feel guilt, like did I do something wrong? Did I not take good enough care of my baby or body when I was pregnant? How did this happen?

Then there's silence. No answers. No research, no specific steps moving forward. I feel like I have been dropped off on an island and I don't know what to do next. This is torturing my mind, which likes to have everything figured out.

Right now Jason is making the nursery back into an office. I asked him to after Norah died because I couldn't look at the crib. I put all her things in a box and haven't quite decided what I'm doing with everything yet. I'll be keeping it though. I've tried so hard to move forward, be strong, pick myself up and move on, take steps forward, and today I am tired of trying. Today I want to be in my pajamas, watch tv, eat lots of food and shut the world out. What brings me consolation is thinking about my next child and the joy he/she will bring. I don't know if that's healthy or not, but that's where I'm at today. Today my heart hurts and my world is stopped. Today I feel the depression stronger. It's hard writing that word, because of people's reactions, but depression is a very normal part of loss and of life. I think everyone goes through depression at some point in their lives. It doesn't mean I need a pill or an intervention; it means I am grieving. Today I don't feel like being around people. Is that bad? I'm not sure and don't care today. I just need to be.

Strength

This morning I have been thinking about the strength and grace God can give during the grieving process. I am following one mom on Instagram who lost her 3 year old son and I loved what she said, "Learning how to keep one foot in joy and one foot in grief." When I read that, I clicked with it immediately, because rarely since this has happened have I felt both feet in grief. Even in the midst of a bad day, Jason and I will still laugh at something, be goofy together, or do everyday life things.

Doing everyday life things is very healing, whether it's going to the store, checking my email, doing laundry, hanging out with friends. It feels therapeutic to be normal and to be me. I have a new friend I have made and have corresponded with since losing Norah; she also lost a little one. She said something that stuck out to me and I have thought about often, "As humans, we have an incredible capacity for hope." Wow. Even in this loss. We have a longing for heaven but a fierce fight in us to stay alive, to breathe, to move on, to look forward, to have hope. We are stronger and more resilient than what we give ourselves credit for. I have found that when I admit my weakness and vulnerability, I feel strength being poured into me. I know God is pouring it in and giving me resources that are not my own.

Even thinking about how when we were in the hospital, I decided I wanted to try for another baby, even after a near death experience. That's hope. And courage. That beautiful part of the human heart and journey is designed by God, to give hope and resilience despite the heartache. There have also been so many things I have been grateful for during this time. Jason and I were talking yesterday about what we are grateful for. He and I have had time to grieve together, hang out together, work out and be healthy, and not have a lot of other stressors piled onto any already tough situation. So grateful for that.

My life has been changed. Who I am is changing. God will use this experience to mold me and shape me, and I am open to that. There's a part of me that will hang onto yesterday and what could have been but I hope I let go of that so I can fully receive, with both hands, what He has in store for me tomorrow. And ultimately, I think that's what Norah wants. I feel like she is saying, "Mommy, I'm fine up here in heaven. I have everything I need. I never need to know sickness, pain, death, heartache. I have my room up here and I am just fine. Be happy." The only part that would have bothered me about dying would have been that I was leaving Jason, my family and friends here without me. I would have been just fine in heaven; I would have been with Norah, perfectly joyful, happy and content...but it would have been the heartache and pain of others that would be hard to watch. So, not only am I moving forward and keeping one foot in joy for myself, our family and my well being, but also for Norah. This is what she wants too; she doesn't want us to always mourn the loss of her, because she is celebrating life and having a party in heaven.

All of this takes grace -- God's mighty grace -- for Him to do what I cannot do. God, give me the grace I need to move forward, to have healthy grief and healthy joy, to live all my experiences to the fullest, and for hope to burst in my heart everyday.

Memories that never came

This morning I woke up thinking of my precious baby girl and all that I can't share with her. A week or two before Norah died I had a baby shower with my friends in Superior. My high school friends threw me a beautiful shower, and it was so much fun. I had fun opening presents for Norah, which included lots of cute little outfits that she could wear this summer. I dreamed of what she would wear this summer...out and about, to the beach or pool, to my brother's wedding. The week before she died I went and got her a bunch of onesies and sleepers and began looking for what she could wear to my brother's wedding. Two to three weeks before she died Jason and I set up her crib and I hung up her paintings that I painted for her. We would walk in the room and picture getting up with her in the middle of the night. The weekend before she died Jason took a Saturday off and we went to a labor and delivery class. We toured the hospital. I remember looking at the c-section room and thinking, I won't have to go in that room.

Norah dying wasn't our plan. Our plan was to go into delivery, have her at the hospital, and then bring her home, go to the 6 week check-up with a healthy baby and recovering mom, and go about our lives with our new addition. My plan wasn't to wake up a month and a half later and not have my baby girl here with me, having the memory of her dead in my arms play through my head.

Jason and I were planning on me taking 3 months off when Norah arrived. I have still taken 3 months off work and I'm glad that I have this option. I don't go back to work till the beginning of July and this break has been nice for many reasons physically and emotionally, especially since I'm a therapist and I have to be an emotional support for others. The plan is to start out at 2 days a week, which is also nice, because I can ease my way back into work and don't have to feel the pressure to do more if I can't for a while.

We were going to have another baby shower here in the cities the Saturday after she died that my sister-in-law was going to put on. All our plans involved Norah, so how in the hell do I move forward without her? What am I supposed to do now? What do I do when I'm not working? I don't want to fill my life with more things that don't involve her. I want her to be here, in my life. In a way, I'm still in shock. It's shocking to me what happened.

Then the other day I began researching what others think are causes for abruptions. For any of you who have had miscarriages or your babies die in your tummy, you've probably asked the same question. What did I do? What made this happen? My mind has went through everything: nutrition, stress level, what I did leading up to that point, etc. etc. The doctors haven't given me anything, so naturally my mind craves an answer and wants to know. Medically speaking, a complete abruption, like the one I had, is a fluke thing. There is no known source of cause; there is speculation and some factors that correlate with having an abruption but no hard evidence that points in any direction. Norah was a normal birth weight and looked perfect, so she was getting all the proper nutrition that she needed. If only I could have an answer, but I'm not sure that will happen. The doctor did some blood tests last week to see if anything looked off, and it looks like everything has come back normal.

So how do I move forward with all of this? How do I remain brave during my next pregnancy? I have joked around with some people that I want to live at the hospital my 3rd trimester. Although I know that's probably not possible, it sure would make me feel better.

The kids have been sad and disappointed that Norah isn't here. They were really looking forward to being the older siblings and helping me take care of the baby. I was really looking forward to seeing Norah being taken care of by the older siblings. That would have been so much fun. Now we just wait. And take one step at a time and move forward, at times with a heavy heart and at other times with a lightness. Friends, if you are able, please keep praying for physical and emotional healing. Pray that even though doctors and others cannot find the reason, that God would mend and heal and prevent in the future whatever caused this. If I am supposed to arrive to an answer and find some solution, pray that he would lead me there.

Love,
Nancy

Reminders

Everything seems to be a reminder of Norah being absent. I wake up this morning and wish I was woken up in the middle of the night by the cries of my child. I wish today, as Jason is at work, that I could feed, nap, and cuddle with her. I wish I could see her mannerisms and her little personality quirks. I feel so robbed; my dreams of her are robbed. The wave of grief that seems to be coming now, is missing who Norah is, who she would have been here on this earth, and I miss her. I miss the little girl I didn't have the chance to get to know better. I miss being her mom and my heart aches with loss.

Norah was 4 lbs 8 oz. She had bright red hair. She was long and skinny, with long and skinny toes and fingers. She had full lips and she was beauty. She was rambunctious in my tummy, kicking and moving around a lot. She especially loved when I ate or sat down to rest. She liked when I played music and sang. My favorite nickname for her was/is Nories. Every moment of her life on this earth was spent with me, in my tummy. She knew me and I knew her. I think she is lively, brave, passionate, and full of life. What's left of her body remains here on this earth, but her soul, spirit, and new body are in heaven now, in another dimension, where I can't hold her yet.

There is something in my heart that says hope is worth fighting for and despair is worth fighting. I no longer pour my energy into despair traps that lead to powerlessness and hopelessness. I pour myself into hope. I pour myself into what receives me fully. I pour myself into my future reward and the promise yet to come. I see the snares and traps on my path and they are fully exposed. Despair and hopelessness are not from God. Glory to glory is from God. Abundance and life is from God. And, He takes the first fruits of my suffering and carves out a deep well inside of me, so deep that it touches my core, making room for joy, future plans, beauty, promises, and fullness.

The mystery of God's unfolding plan for my life is still being revealed. He has not spared me from obstacles or heartache or pain. He has allowed things to happen and for me to fully be submerged in this painful and beautiful thing called life. The part that feels the most unsettling to me at this moment is: it wasn't meant to be this way. How do I live with the ideals of heaven and its perfection in the brokenness of this world? I have yet to find the answer to that question and I sit in the tension, I sit in the tension of holding onto the promises with hope in one hand and faith in the other, and recognizing the reality that this world and its brokenness sucks sometimes.

God is here, even though I can't tangibly see him or feel him right now. I hear him and I know him and what he tells me today. He will continue to lead me on the path of life.

New Clothes

Last week I began a project where I began throwing out old clothes. Some clothes were from college, some from when I interned or first started working. I was surprised at how my clothes were outdated and worn out. I thought to myself, "Why have I not noticed this before? I thought I would notice this." But, my clothes weren't "me" anymore. It was this interesting revelation that led me to think more deeply about who I am as a woman. It felt good to throw away old clothes, to rid myself of things that didn't feel relevant or reflective of who I am as a woman. Not to mention that when you get rid of old clothes, the exciting part is you are going to need to get new clothes.

Right now I am in limbo with body size and shape. Most women who have been pregnant or even just mature and get older understand what I am talking about. You keep your pregnancy clothes, tucking them away for next time. You keep in between sized clothes for the times your body is in limbo and not fully back to where it used to be so it really becomes this complicated process...especially when you don't have a huge closet and you need to store clothes in tupperware boxes!

This whole process feels deeply significant to me and I cannot shake it. I began window shopping in stores where I used to buy clothes and I feel like these stores don't fit my style anymore. Okay, so I know what doesn't fit my style; I know what I don't want to wear...but what do I want to wear? Who is this woman who is all of the sudden in her late 20's, almost 30? I am convinced this is something each woman goes through and it's more than a wardrobe change; it's more than trying to find your style and what suits you; it is a recognition that you have found yourself entering into a whole new stage of womanhood.

I know who I once was has changed, not entirely, but enough to where it feels significant. I think when you have been through a tragedy it changes you forever. I also think God uses it as an opportunity to catapult you into new levels of identity, authority, understanding, etc. A process that could have taken 10 years for me to walk through in Him molding me and shaping me may only take days because I feel like silly putty in His hands. He reminds me that I'm still clay and I ask Him to mold and shape me in this vulnerable state. A time where I could be molded and shaped by many things of this world, but Lord, it's your hands that are capable of molding me and shaping me into the woman you desire me to become. My capacity to hold more of Him has increased because the tragedy and grief empties me of myself, making more room for His light, glory and beauty.

The other day He brought me to Isaiah 62. The title of the chapter was, "Zion's New Name." This was while I was trying to figure out why getting rid of my old clothes and getting new clothes was such a big deal to me. He's using it to symbolize a deeper supernatural process He's leading me through. There is a shedding of the old self and putting on the new self; a shedding of the old identity, a taking on of the new identity; a shedding of the old name and taking on the new name. We might as well use this opportunity for Him to mold me; let's just add it to the whole process I'm already going through. In Isaiah 62, it says that the Lord will give her a new name; from His mouth he will bestow the new name.

This all feels fresh and new to me. It makes me excited to know what is in store for my future in regards to my identity. I want to wear the garments and take on the identity he wants me to take on. I just don't know what that is yet. I don't know what that looks like. So while I'm in limbo, I wait on Him to give me my new name, to guide me on the path He has set before me and take one step at a time. I realize it's okay to be in limbo, it's okay to not know and it's okay to wait for now. It's even better to have the faith to let go of the old clothes, the old ways and allow my feet to be set on a new path. It could be easier to keep the old clothes until I get the new ones, but I feel like my eyes of faith are looking over a horizon, waiting for what will soon come.

Mother's Day

Today I wake up with paralyzing grief, heartache, and pain. What was supposed to be a joyous celebration for me today is a day of disappointment. The waves of grief feel stronger this weekend and it feels like it takes all my strength to get up and walk towards the kitchen. I make it to the kitchen and my husband has a mother's day card for me on the counter. I'm a mother to Norah and our step-children but none of them are with me today. One died, one doesn't like me and three are warming up to me more and more and do love me.

I feel like I'm bleeding inside; something feels like it's dying but I'm still alive. My heart aches for what is gone and who I won't be able to hold on this earth. She's my little Norah, mommy's little angel. Norah made me a mommy and I love her deeply. Why can't she just be here with me?

I don't have an appetite. I can't tell when I'm hungry or full so I just eat out of obligation to my body. I'm hoping my appetite will come back. This morning especially, forcing myself to eat breakfast. I wish there was this special pill to make the grief go away, something to escape, but my present reality keeps hitting me over and over again making me feel like I can barely catch my breath. I'm sad about what losing Norah means. It means I have to now wait even longer to hold my baby in my arms; I'm sad I have to go through another nine months of pregnancy to have my own child; I'm sad I have to be monitored so closely because something that only happens to 1 in 100,000 people just so happened to me. And I'm pissed off. The anger has settled in more. I have yelled in our house and I recently started swearing. It really helps when you're trying to express your anger. Jason just had to close the bedroom window the other night when I was swearing at a situation...so our neighbors wouldn't hear! (that makes me laugh)

It feels good to be angry. After all, this was a huge injustice. I feel so angry that she was taken away from me without my consent. The waves of anger are just as strong as the waves of grief. All of these feelings need to be validated. I have a hard time validating anger because I don't want to be an angry person and yet I need to know it's okay to feel anger in order to fully let it go.

Loneliness is something I have to fight. I feel misunderstood, touchy and sensitive too. My deep emotions feel like a curse right now. I know they are wonderful when I paint, am passionate about things, love people, am creative, get excited or inspired...but right now, they feel like a full-time job!

I envision being a mommy some day, to my own natural, living children. I long for that day to come and I look forward to it. Norah will never be replaced, but the deep longing in my heart to take care of and be a mommy to my own child will be fulfilled.

I pray the beauty would rise from the ashes, I pray life would rise up from death. I pray for justice for the innocent blood that was shed. I pray for the biggest comeback story, full of hope and healing. Until then, I am left here waiting, hanging onto unfulfilled promises of the future.