Follow up

I've been meaning to do a follow up post since having Estella...well, she is 8 weeks now, more beautiful than ever, and I may have a quick minute to write. Life has been a gift with her here, everything from holding her, kissing her, and feeling the weight of her body on my chest. I feel mostly complete with her here...and the reason I say mostly, is because it truly feels like I should have two children. I will say, the deep pain and sting of Norah being gone has gone away. The time has washed away the pain, but Estella coming into this world is what really helped the sting go away.

Jason and I didn't broadcast how we were doing for the end of the pregnancy to many people, because we didn't want people's anxiety or stress added on top of ours. In the last 3 weeks of pregnancy, I had gestational hyper-tension. In the 3rd trimester, I had a calcified placenta, meaning my placenta hardened and aged more than it should have. I also had some blood flow issues between the uterus and placenta. Basically, in the last few weeks, the doctors were able to draw some pretty strong conclusions as to why I had the placental abruption. I had 3 OB-GYNS looking after me and we were all walking on egg shells. Estella was born smaller, actually right under 5 lbs because of my placenta issues.

There were a few moments in the last stages of my pregnancy that completely tested Jason and my faith. I was sent up to be monitored several times after doctor's appointments...what turned into what was supposed to be a 15 minute appointment turned into a half day hospital stay so they could monitor Estella and I, making sure we were okay. There were nights I would feel so terrified, I would be tossing and turning, praying that God would give me the strength to get me through this last part of the pregnancy. I tried to be as strong as possible, but I got sick of being strong. 

I'll never forget the morning Jason and I got ready to go to the hospital. We packed up our things, and talked about everything but the delivery. We got pretty good at distracting ourselves. Then, I got to the hospital and they set me up for surgery. I didn't get into surgery until 2 hours after the scheduled time and I was so nervous, so excited, so ready to meet this little girl! I can't even fully process what it was like going through the procedures in the surgery room, getting the spinal, and getting set up. It felt like a completely different experience than Norah, and yet there were so many memories that came from before. Feeling the doctor and nurse put pressure on my stomach to push her out was so crazy, and then waiting, anticipating, for what felt like forever to hear her cry!! Then I heard her cry and there was a wave of relief that washed over me. She was here, everything was okay, and she was small! That part was hard for me after having her because I had to really fight guilt that my body failed me, that I "make small babies" and that means I'm not doing something right.

After she was born we went into the recovery room and I got to hold her and see her (I got to see her in the delivery room as well). Then, about 5-10 minutes later, she had to go to the level 2 NICU, where she stayed for 24 hours to make sure she didn't drop weight. THAT was so hard and that's the part that brought on so many emotions from losing Norah. I remember crying and saying that I just wanted my baby; it felt very traumatic for me. I am proud to say that as soon as my anesthesia wore off, about 6 hours later, I walked to the level 2 NICU every 3 hours to start feeding her and holding her. I would stay in the room with her until my body would say, "You need to go lay down now!" Then, she was able to come back to our room after the 24 hours and I was very pleased. 

Needless to say, it was a whirlwind of emotions, and I don't feel like I have fully processed through all that we went through. All I know, is I get a break from being pregnant. I still feel sad and grieve the loss of having "normal" pregnancies and birth experiences. I grieve the loss of relationships that aren't in my life to celebrate Estella's arrival. Jason and I are rebuilding (& pretty much have been since we've been married) and rebuilding takes time. Rebuilding takes pruning, surrender, sacrifice, pain, and the hope for something new, improved and different from the familiar. 

I wanted to talk about what God did through my pregnancy as well, because I am grateful. I do feel like He gave me the grace to walk out each day. Yes, there were days I came to the end of myself, but He always showed up. I feel like He used this time to mold me, stretch me, and refine me. He gave me two dreams, one was actually a vision, but I was sleeping when I had it. The first dream, I will type out what I put in my phone when I woke up:

April 26th: "Saw baby girl get born via c-section, baby girl with dark hair, baby inside my tummy, tummy was transparent, and baby perched up, big eyes, saying hi to people." - this one was actually the vision...I remember the baby being handed to me in the vision, and I felt the warmth softness of her body literally in my hands, as though I was there

August 7th: the week before my delivery date, I saw one baby girl and one baby boy. I saw the baby girl in a bassinet and she was looking up at me smiling. 

God was speaking to me and He is always faithful to speak to me, whether it be through dreams, His voice in my heart/spirit or His word. I just sometimes get so caught up in my emotions and fears that I do not hear Him. I still do...my flesh wants to sometimes cling to the fears and what's familiar. When I was in the hospital, I felt the mother's hyper-vigilance like nobody's business...I was checking her breathing and fearful she would leave me. For the first week we were home, I would check her breathing when she was sleeping. She looked so small and fragile. I had a hard time sleeping. I still had hypertension and had to take pills so it would lower because it was dangerously high. Then about 2 weeks after getting home from the hospital, I began to feel more like myself. Yes, that is partially hormones running themselves through your body and flushing out, but I also cried out to God, to heal my body and my mind, to not be defined by trauma, to not allow my mind to be run by fear, to not label myself as a sick person who always had health issues. He gave me another dream about not identifying with a sick mentality and He told me I was healthy and my body was capable. After that, I felt like a different person. I stopped checking on Estella for fear of something happening to her; I felt different and then at the 6 week check up, everything was completely back to normal.

SO, that was my experience. It was messy. I was scared. Jason and I were both scared, although often times he was the strong one for me...and here we are, on the other side, holding our little girl. I am trusting and hoping for an even healthier pregnancy next go around (Although that won't be for a while!!!!). Thanks to everyone who prayed for us! We love you.

Sitting in the moment

Waiting in this place, with the windows open, and a nice breeze coming into our home. I love our home. It's been a place of peace, safety, love, and acceptance. It has also been a place of tears, disappointment, grief, and discouragement. All of those make it real and are a part of me. I usually don't look forward to the fall. I hang onto summer with everything I have, but I am looking forward to fall this year, more than ever. I am looking forward to welcoming the new season that awaits Jason, myself and our family. Our family is so looking forward to having Estella. In the words of Sarah, "I just can't wait anymore!!" I hear you Sarah! I am even more impatient than you, believe me.

Yet in the waiting I try to make the most of each moment. I try to recognize this beautiful life, growing inside of me, developing as she should be. I look up at the blue skies and am thankful for the sunshine, the absolutely beautiful summer we've had, and for my four children I already have. I'm thankful for my amazing husband and all the ways my life has been enriched through him. I realize I have more than others, and am grateful for what there is. And, my life still feels incomplete, so I look forward to holding my little girl in my arms. I look forward to life after Estella is here.

Today I finished the paintings for her room. There are 3 small canvases. The middle one is a star and the two outside ones are angel wings. They are hung above her crib. She's almost here; I can feel that.

I am also looking forward to not being pregnant. Pregnancy is grueling at times. I know my sleep will be interrupted, but I am really looking forward to not being pregnant, and recovering from having her. I am looking forward to not waddling around in 85 degree weather, and feeling the extra weight on my joints...that'll be so nice! I am looking forward to having Estella here with me on the weekends while Jason is working...there are just many things in store for me that I am looking forward to!

In the waiting

Today I wanted to let our family and friends know what is going on with our pregnancy, and how Jason and I are doing. I also need an outlet to just write, as there is a lot going on with my emotions and thoughts during the final stretch. We are officially 35 weeks pregnant as of today...so pretty amazing! We lost Norah at the 34 week 3 day mark, so it feels we have made it through something big this last week. As Jason put it, it feels like we are on mile 24 of the marathon (he's run two of them). We are tired, weary, and ready for this part of the journey to be over. Typically I try to be a person who does not use the mindset, "If........, then we'll be happier," but in this case, we are ready for the waiting to be over. We are ready for our little one to arrive, to hold her and be with her now.

This last leg or the journey has been testing all that is within me. God is asking me to lean on Him and trust Him through this time...and that is honestly hard after what we've been through, but ultimately, I know He's in control of all of this. All of this feel so close, yet so far away, both within reach and out of reach. Last night I read something in Streams in the Desert:

"When God made thee a believer, He meant to try thee; and when He gave thee promises, and bade thee trust them, He gave such promises as are suitable for times of tempest and tossing. Dost thou think that God makes shams like some that have made belts for swimming, which were good to exhibit in a ship, but of no use in the sea?

"We have all heard of swords which were useless in war; and even of shoes which were made to sell, but were never meant to walk in. God's shoes are of iron and brass, and you can walk to Heaven in them without their ever wearing out; and His life-belts, you may swim a thousand Atlantics upon them, and there will be no fear of your sinking. His Word of promise is meant to be tried and proved.

"Go the the deeps of God's promise,
And claim whatsoever ye will;
The blessing of God will not fail thee,
His Word He will surely fulfill.

"How can God say no to something He has promised?"

This reading spoke to me. It encouraged me and reminded me of the process and journey He has had Jason and I on. We are not made to believe He has caused all this, but in the brokenness of this world, I am made to believe He will use this fully to shape us and mold us. God is not afraid to use these situations of waiting and turn them into times of deep molding. He is not unknown for taking our tears, and having them pave the way for deep, everlasting joy. He is not turned back from our weakness; in fact, He suggests for us to be weak, so that He can be made strong and mighty in times like this. So, yesterday, I had to be reminded to stop being self-sufficient and be strong, but to be weak in the arms of the Father, knowing He is holding us, holding us through this time, into the promise fulfilled. Am I going to be put my walls up and be offended by what He hasn't given me, or will I get to learn Him and understand the intentions of His heart towards me, which I know to be good and true and loving?

So, we wait here. And we get stretched here. And we hold on here. And we get to be weak and vulnerable here. This is where we are and where we get to be strengthened.

On a practical note, for those of you who are curious about pregnancy details, feel free to message, call or text me. Jason and I will most likely not go completely full term, but are unsure about the actual details at this point in time. I am being monitored very closely, receiving two ultrasounds a week. The nurses and doctors have been amazing and they are all rooting for us and cheering us on so deep. They have me on partial bed rest as a precaution. I am to have limited activity from this point forward. If people want to help in practical ways, you can pray for us, be on standby for when we do have her and help with meals/cleaning for a week or two after she is here (that is hard for me to actually request, but I don't want Jason to be overworked!!). Message me if you are interested in that. And for those of you who are friends and family, we are looking to have the baby shower in September, after she arrives, so then you will be able to meet her. More details will come through invites with that. Also, Jason is tired. He has been doing lots, so pray for him in this journey as well, that he would be encouraged and given strength. We are taking care of our 4 kids half the week, who have Lacrosse, summer school, tutoring, not to mention feeding two teenage boys, driving them around...while Jason works full time. I am officially done working now and just relaxing, but cannot help much physically, which is really really hard for me!! I'll also be asking people specifically to come and help once I have the official date, because I know we have a lot of family and friends who are wanting to help in ways they can!

Grief before the new chapter

I have kept mostly quiet on the blog throughout this pregnancy...I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe I don't want to "jinx" this pregnancy; maybe it feels too hard to describe all that I'm feeling, and maybe I can't even fully describe all that I'm feeling. It also doesn't help that there's been other changes in my life that have felt overwhelming. But today, I need to write. Today, I needed to finish a painting, the first painting, since Norah has died. It's called the "Heartbeat of Heaven" and it's a dress made of jewels and a whole lot of other symbolism. It stirred up some pretty deep emotions, mostly towards the end and after the painting. You see, my plan has been, once this painting is finished, to get started on Estella's paintings. There is a gamete of emotions revolving around starting Estella's paintings...firstly, I remember taking Norah's paintings off the wall and putting them in a tupperware container. Secondly, beginning Estella's painting and finishing up Norah's painting, feels like a big turning of the chapter. One I have desperately longed for, and on the other hand, not knowing what to do with.

How do I do this? Feeling the excitement of bringing another little girl into this world, while wishing another one was here? I don't feel guilt for moving forward, like I'm leaving Norah in the dust, and just focusing on Estella. It just simply feels like this closing of a chapter, a chapter that has been a long, hard, painful journey, one that came with so many other life transitions, one that I'm so ready to be rid of, yet one that has become familiar in a way. It's become what I've known. For the last year and 3 months, I have known pain, grief, and heartache on a level I didn't understand. And you know what's weird? Norah dying catapulted me into all this growth, all this change and healing I never thought possible. I feel healthier and like a better person now than when this all began. That does feel a bit weird saying that, but I feel like God used this opportunity to mold me and shape me into the woman I am today. This has now been the life that I know, and now, I have Estella coming. And, most days I believe she's coming, but there are other days I'm scared. I'm scared of another abruption...gosh, I wish I could say that I'm not, but I am. I keep listening to people's reassuring words and I rest into God's words, but I still have my doubts.

I have tried to let Estella in as close to my heart as possible, but I have to be reminded (or Jason does) that this isn't Norah, this isn't the same pregnancy, this is different, and the outcome will be different. My emotions have felt so strongly the other way. I think that's part of the reason I have not shared much on facebook my pregnancy journey, because I am afraid something will happen and this won't be a happy ending. Logically, I know most likely it will be, and yet my emotions are making a ruckus of their own.

So...onto Stella's paintings...onto hope and good things. Onto promises and hope. Onto imagining the best possible outcome unless I'm notified otherwise. Onto clearing out her nursery and possibly thinking about setting up some baby things. Onto allowing myself to feel joy and excitement into her coming into this world. Onto separating my experience from Norah and Estella. Onto knowing that no matter what happens, God is still good, He's still by my side, He's still in control, and He's going to protect me. That's all I need to be focusing on right now and the rest is outside of my control. That's just what I keep telling myself!

Approaching the 34 week mark has been scary and hard, and yet all I can do it live in this current moment. So, here's to living in the today, living in the moment, living in the not yet, and keeping my hands open for the gift of the future to come.

Pregnancy after loss

Words are hard to describe walking through a pregnancy after loss. Having a stillborn at 34 weeks and having my life be on the line while losing my child...you would think each moment of each day would be hard and anxiety filled. But, the truth is, it's not. Not each moment of each day; only certain ones. 34 weeks is a loooooong time to be pregnant. In the last 21 months, I have been pregnant for 14 months...I'm beginning to forget what life was outside of pregnancy!

And damn it, I get scared. When I lost Norah, I woke up with pain in my abdomen, 2 hours later I am being rushed into an emergency C-section where I am told my daughter is no longer alive. How can I have a "normal" pregnancy after that? The hardest part for me was of course losing her; the second hardest part was how sudden it was. It was so sudden, so abrupt, so life changing. I woke up that morning around 6:30...now in the mornings between 4 and 6 am, I notice I sleep a bit lighter and get up throughout that time period. I tune into my stomach to see how it feels.

And then questioning myself...should I bend over, should I pick this up? The questions of what I can and can't do are flying through my mind. I'm not on bed rest, and I have to live my life, so all I do is listen to my body and when I feel like I need to rest, I rest. I will, however, be on some more restrictions towards the end of my pregnancy.

My doctors and nurses tell me I can go in to the doctor whenever I want. They all love me there and are rooting for me! I've gone an extra 3 times or so just to hear her heartbeat and make sure things are okay. Starting at 32 weeks, I will be going into the doctor 2 times per week. I think it'll be more for my peace of mind.

Today I went to buy our little girl some clothes. I went to the same place I got Norah's clothes...it felt eerily familiar. There have been triggers that felt eerily familiar that happened in the same week of losing Norah. I went to get her clothes, I met with a certain friend, I felt similar tiredness. The truth is, if anything were to happen in this pregnancy, I simply don't know if I could do this again. And I know logically most likely it won't...but I am faced with a scary hill to climb. The chances may look good to the doctors or to others who are looking on us, but it feels like I'm needing to push through this time and muster all the strength and courage I can get. I also have this weird feeling of not wanting to let others down, my step-kids, my husband, the Facebook world, friends, family...

And then there's good days, where I don't think about all the fears and risks, when I'm just a pregnant mom planning for her daughter's birth. I am thinking of how to decorate her nursery or plan my life when she gets here, or think of what I want on the baby registry, and what projects around the house I want to get done, and I think about how I will balance having 4 step-kids and 1 of ours together and my career and of course, my marriage. I daydream of holding her, breastfeeding her, and being the good mom I know I will be. Then, to protect myself, I have a plan b in place...I don't like that I do that, but I just have naturally been doing that.

And then there's missing Norah, my sweet little curly red-haired girl, the one who would have been my world right now. I miss her here on this earth. I don't feel guilty for planning for my other little girl, or for loving her. I'm just scared to fully love her. I'm scared she won't make it safely in my arms. I'm walking out this path of faith and courage. I'm telling her to be strong, to just hold on and to get her little buns into this world.

I read a quote the other day that said, "Sometimes when you're in a dark place you think you've been buried, but actually you've been planted." That just about sums up this past year. It has been a painful, crazy, beautiful, deep, messy journey. It has not all been bad, believe me. I have encountered the deep love of God and people. I have been planted deep. I have lived and felt my pain. I have surrendered and let go of my very life and the people I love. I have been pushed to my limits, only to find out, that I am strong and courageous. I have not allowed fear or anxiety to control my life. I have made healthier decisions, about who I let into my life and what I let in. My roots grow even deeper and stronger than before. I feel like I'm in a good place, now I need this nugget to arrive. I know my life won't be perfect then, but my heart will be more full.

Control

Some people know that I am now 20 weeks pregnant...well, officially tomorrow. I want to use this space as an outlet for my pregnancy after loss journey. This has been quite the journey already and has felt like it's been going on a long time! The difficulty with having a loss so late in pregnancy is that once I graduate from the first trimester, I am not having a sigh of relief, like okay, the worst part is done. I am living in uncertainty. Logically I know a placental abruption is unlikely to happen again. Just the fact that there is a higher chance scares the crap out of me some days. I haven't had intense anxiety - nervous breakdowns or panic attacks - but sometimes my thoughts will circulate around the loss and the what if's...and that can feel a bit tormenting. I wish I could tell my emotions that this abruption never happened, and to enjoy this pregnancy to the fullest...but I have a feeling this pregnancy will be a journey.

It is nice to be halfway done. It's also nice to be in the second trimester. I am also looking forward having the third trimester be in the summer...some people may not like that, but I love summer and summer always seems to go by fast, so I plan on being outside and enjoying summer, staying as relaxed as I can. The abruption happened when I woke up in the morning. It was the first sensation I had when I woke up...my stomach hurt and it was a weird sensation. Then, as I got out of bed, the sensation became worse and worse. What if I get braxton hicks this pregnancy? Or what if I go into labor earlier than planned? Am I going to be a hot mess and think the worst possible scenario? I hope not...but I have no idea what to expect!

Planning for the baby to come and even thinking about putting the nursery back up is very triggering for me right now. I plan on putting the nursery up in July and having the baby shower after the baby comes. I just can't do it again. I can't have a baby shower with all my friends and then have my baby die one week later...it's just too much. I can't watch the crib being taken down or take the clothes off the hangers and fold them and put them back into the dresser. I'm not sure I could survive another loss like that. Of course I know I'd survive, but I just am not sure how deeply it would impact me the second time around. I know those around me say it won't...and I want to believe it with all of who I am...I want to believe everything is going to be okay, but deep down I am scared as all get out. There's a deep place inside of me that knows this child will live and everything is going to be okay. Then there's this other place where fear exists, and where I have a really difficult time attaching to hope. It's like most women who've been through this journey say, you have your good days and your bad days. Or, you have your good moments and not so good moments. You try not to think about it, you try to distract, but you also know completely distracting isn't good for you and the baby, so you rest, and you try to be at peace.

I find comfort in knowing God is in complete control. At the end of the day, He's got this. When I look at my life, the details are completely orchestrated. The way He's weaved people, jobs, open doors, opportunities, life lessons into my life...He knows what is going to happen and this entire life story of mine is in His hands. Of course I have free will and choice and I know bad things happen, but He's got me covered. Under the shadow of His wings. All the time.

What I'm noticing the most right now is my need for control, hence the title of the blog. I can feel this inward anxiety. It sits right in the middle of my chest, and it wants control over my life. The anxiety wants things to be just so, it wants things to be completely planned out. The obsessive thoughts are scared and searching for control and a sense of power over what happened. My plans and sense of control feel completely apart when Norah died. I lost this place in my life that gave me a feeling of control. The name for what happened is so fitting. A placental abruption. Completely abrupt. Sudden, unexpected, without warning, unanticipated, unforeseen, surprising, startling. That seems to fit the internal experience that I'm trying to bounce back from. I'm trying to compensate with control and having life planned out. It's this inward cycle of not having control and wanting it. It's a cycle that doesn't complete itself, or satisfy itself, or find relief. It could be a cycle that leads to even more anxiety and control. All I want is relief, trust, and hope. God's voice is what calms it the most quickly. Hearing Him tell me everything is going to be okay, seems to be like a dose of medicine for my soul and spirit.

I am reminded that I need to depend on Him through this, even if I'm still working on fully trusting Him once again. He holds my life in His hands, and everything, in the end, is going to be okay. He's walked me through other storms and tests of faith, He will be faithful to get me through this one as well. Trusting, letting go, giving up command, releasing, holding onto the good stuff, letting go of the bad stuff. Holding onto the promises, releasing the fear, lies, disappointments.

The heart will not grow cold. It will be warmed up again, through the new life and the summer rains, through the tears and the joy. The heart will grow deep and be deeply rooted. The heart will grow wide again and be expanded. The heart will grow soft again, ready for planting season. The heart will be released to dream again. The heart will let go of what it can't control and have opened eyes to see the promises. The promises. They are coming.

My Letter to Norah

Dear Child,

Although it's been a year without you, I have thought about you every single day. I remember your movements in my tummy, the cravings you gave me. I remember the way my body grew with you. I remember hearing your heartbeat many times and seeing you inside my tummy on the ultrasound. I remember when I found out you were a girl. I remember getting your name in a dream...and I remember thinking Norah Elizabeth was the most perfect girl's name. I remember making your registry for Target, but first your dad and I went to Babies R Us...that store overwhelmed me, so that's when we decided to go to Target.

You were my first. The first child I felt move. The first child that grew inside me. You will always be my first. You'll always have my heart, and I know I always carry yours.

I remember your red hair, your long, lean limbs, your perfect little nose and ears. I remember your ivory, soft skin...and did I mention your red hair?? You really surprised me with that one!

I wish you were one year old with me, here on earth. But you are in heaven, where one year is a thousand and one thousand is one year. I'm sure there's no clock in heaven, like there is on earth. I feel loved by you. I feel seen by you. I feel supported by you. You bring tears of joy and sadness to my eyes all at the same time.

I remember how you violently left this earth, snatched from my hands by our enemy. I remember being so damn mad at losing you.

My head has had the tendency to look down and be overwhelmed by my circumstances this last year, more so than before. Whenever I choose to be lifted higher and to see higher, my heart doesn't feel so heavy. Pray that I would be lifted higher, that I could be lifted up from my circumstances. Pray that I can see things from your perspective, in heaven, that my mind and heart wouldn't be so easily weighed down by the cares and burdens of this world. Pray that I would fly again, dream again, fully love again, fully hope again. Pray these walls get shaken down...gently is preferred. I know I cannot do this life on my own; I need to lean on my Beloved. Pray my spirit would be drawn higher, deeper, and to new levels of intimacy with my Maker.

I miss you. I wonder what our family would be like having you here with us. In some ways, you feel so real and tangible, and in other ways, you have felt like a phantom. I know you aren't one, but I cannot tangibly hold you and see you on this earth. I look forward to meeting you in heaven, where we can be together for eternity. I love you sweet child. You are my heart and I love you.

Love,
Mommy

Almost a Year

Today I am not sure what to do with myself, so I decided to write in the blog since it's been a while. I can't believe it's almost been one year since Norah was still born, died, and changed our lives changed forever. Jason and I both feel like it's been a long year. As I look back, the first few months were just physically and emotionally recovering from shock and trauma...and then as time passed, we were forced to move on with life. I never thought I'd be able to move on with life after this happened. I felt like I was put into a time capsule and I was not subject to time, schedules, work, responsibilities. Sometimes I would avoid life and want to curl up in a ball and grieve. Other times I wanted to get lost in work and be distracted by something other than my daughter dying inside of me.

In 2014, I lost my child, my closest friend, and business. My life, as I knew it, completely fell apart. I was completely thrown off the tracks of life and had no idea how to recover. The other night I asked Jason if I've changed since losing Norah, and he's noticed a wall I've put up...not towards him or others necessarily, but one towards God and hope and believing in good things happening. I wish that wall wasn't there. I wish I could will it away but everything inside of me is telling me to keep it there, to protect myself. I don't want to stay this way for the rest of my life; I want to be open and loving and trust like a child, but my whole world was torn from me...and I'm honestly still recovering.

A couple days ago someone who hasn't seen me in a while told me my eyes were more beautiful than when she saw me before, not in the physical sense, but in there being a light in my eyes. I was surprised. I would have guessed people see sadness and pain still, but those little comments remind me that God shines his beauty in my brokenness -- my broken world and shattered dreams. God still does conquer my wall of mistrust. He still conquers my wall of self-protection. I've started to feel that he's gotten impatient with me, like I need to come around this corner and not have it affect me spiritually. But, I have a feeling He's waiting for me and is patient during this time.

I still haven't painted since Norah died. The second to last set of paintings I did was for her nursery. There's a part of me that doesn't want to go there and awaken the deeper place, and there's a part of me that knows when I do, everything is going to be okay.

I took work off this Tuesday, April 7th to be with Jason and to celebrate/grieve Norah. It may be that I don't feel sad...I have no idea how I'll feel. I don't feel the wave of grief come like it did at Christmas. All I know is the waves are unpredictable, but they truly are less and less. I am still walking in life; I am not running. I am going at the pace that I can and doing the best that I can and I just need to keep reminding myself of that.

Struggling with God's Goodness

Today my mind feels like a battle field as I struggle with God's goodness. Jason and I found out this morning that a friend died of cancer. Jason went to ministry school with her, and she was believing the Lord would bring healing to her. My heart aches for her family, her children, and close friends. I didn't realize my feelings of grief were so close and so accessible. It feels like there is a part of my heart is opened up forever, and I really understand the Bible verse that says, "Grieve with those who grieve." I definitely do not have a problem doing that! I know I cannot take on others' emotions, but I feel such a burden for the family this morning. I know this also triggers my own healing process, whether I like to admit it or not. I'd like for it to be all about her and her family, but I just simply can't help it. 

Last week it felt like I was beginning to understand God's goodness in the midst of this world and its cruelty. Someone dying, who had faith God would bring healing, seems to feel like a setback. I wanted so badly for her to be healed and have an amazing testimony, so my heart is processing through so many emotions and questions right now?

Why do bad things happen to good people?

Is God really good?

Why does he heal certain people and not others?

God, I know you haven't abandoned your people. Logically I know you heal, but I doubt it deep within me. I know heaven is good; I know your intention is good, but why are so many people struggling, even when they cry out to you? When they ask for healing with their last breaths? Why do you choose to take some and leave some here on earth? Why did you let Norah die and not some other child? Why do some people struggle in this life, and others seems to have smooth lives, with little bumps along the way? I don't understand. 

These are my honest thoughts and what I've been thinking about today. I know I can't stay in this place, but I have to be honest about my process.

Restitution

There have been many spiritual experiences our family had after losing Norah, and I'd like to share them on the blog, to build others' faith and encourage those of you out there reading. I also want to document it so I don't forget all that God has done. It helps to recount all the things He has done and ways He has been faithful. His faithfulness crashes up to the shore of our lives and His unwavering love never stops washing over us. His pursuit of me throughout this journey is a true testimony to Him never abandoning us. I just want to walk through some testimonies that God has done in our lives since losing Norah.

Some of these testimonies will either be dreams I received from God or words that He spoke directly to me. If anyone has ever felt God close during a tragedy, they know what I mean when I say, He spoke to me directly. It's not some weird thing to me, and it's a very natural part of my life, so if it's weird or new to you, I just ask you keep an open mind.

When I was in the hospital, the very day it happened (or possibly the day after), I heard God speak speak Psalm 18. Here are some verses:
I called to the Lord, who is worthy of praise,
    and I have been saved from my enemies.
4 The cords of death entangled me;
    the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.
5 The cords of the grave coiled around me;
    the snares of death confronted me.
He reached down from on high and took hold of me;
    he drew me out of deep waters.
17 He rescued me from my powerful enemy,
    from my foes, who were too strong for me.
18 They confronted me in the day of my disaster,
    but the Lord was my support.
It is God who arms me with strength
    and keeps my way secure.
33 He makes my feet like the feet of a deer;
    he causes me to stand on the heights.
34 He trains my hands for battle;
    my arms can bend a bow of bronze.
35 You make your saving help my shield,
    and your right hand sustains me;
    your help has made me great.
36 You provide a broad path for my feet,
    so that my ankles do not give way.

The Psalm is full of great verses. I knew from the very beginning that this was something that was allowed in the courts of Heaven. What I mean by that, this went through God first before it came to earth. God allowed for this to happen, and it felt like a similar story to Job in the Bible. Job had been called out by the Enemy and sifted by the hand of God. God still remained sovereign over the situation with Job, and the Enemy could not do unto Job what was not passed through God first. I'm not saying this is how all situations are on earth, but it was for me. 

I remember when I came home, God spoke to me in the middle of the night. I actually woke up and sat straight up in my bed...that's how direct it was. He said, "The trumpet of judgment has been blown over your circumstance." I went back to bed, unsure of what this could mean, but wrote it down the next morning, as a promise from my God. As I am able to look back, God was telling me His judgment and justice poured forth over my life and my life wasn't going to open up and be some playground for the Enemy to steal, kill, and destroy anything he wanted. His time was up. My life is in God's hands, where I am protected and provided for.

I remember a couple of weeks after losing Norah, Jason and I were downstairs. During this time, it actually felt like Jason was losing his firstborn, that his heart was turning away from us. This was extremely difficult, because Jason and I felt like our identity as parents was being taken away from us, that we had no control, and there was nothing we could do about it. That night was my lowest low after losing Norah. We sat there, talking about our grief, and I felt myself falling into this pit of despair. It felt like a black hole that did not have a bottom. I felt depression take over my body, and I knew at that point, I had to surrender completely to God...my dreams and aspirations of becoming a mother, knowing deep inside of me that I was created to be a mother, not just a step-mother, but a biological mother. I knew that God entrusted 4 children to me when I married Jason, that I mother 50% of their childhood lives. I felt the weight of this responsibility when I married Jason, and unlike most single women, I felt up for the challenge and honored that God would use me to mold and shape them. But, for any step-moms out there, who choose not to give up and don't turn their husbands away from their children, they know this is a difficult and unrewarding task. That night I felt this desperation wash over me and my mind was under the influence of the Enemy. I heard the lies that God abandoned me, He didn't protect me, that I would never be a mother, and that I wasn't making a difference in my children's lives. Let's just say, from that moment on, things began to look up. I went to bed and I woke up feeling all of the despair leave. I realized how despair and grief are two different things. Despair feels like a deep dark hole; it feels like you are separate from God. Grief does not; grief is more tolerable.

The next day when I woke up, I looked at myself in the mirror, and my reflection definitely told a story. I looked tired, swollen, and not like my usual, happy self. I heard God say, "This is going to be a big comeback story." I instantly felt hope fill my heart. Somehow, that one sentence gave me the strength I needed to power through the next part of the journey that was ahead of me. I knew this wasn't the end of my story, but the beginning of a new chapter. 

Several weeks (maybe 3-4) after we lost Norah, I had a powerful dream from God. In the dream, I was in a room with a couple who had miscarriages in the first trimester. I didn't know this couple personally, more through a friend. In the dream, I laid my hands on the woman's stomach, where her womb would be and I said, "In Jesus' name, I break the curse of death off your womb. You will have a son and he will live." The dream was over and I woke up. I let my friend (who knows this person) about the dream. I wasn't sure what to do with it, because sometimes when I get dreams for people, it's to simply pray for them. My friend ended up calling me back a few hours later, letting me know her friend was once again pregnant and was in her first trimester. This woman eventually was told about the dream I had, and it encouraged her through her pregnancy to not fear, but to trust God. She ended up giving birth to a healthy baby boy! 

One of the things I asked God for was the gift of healing, that I could lay my hands on women who either couldn't conceive or have experienced miscarriages and death of children in their womb, that I would be able to heal them (with the power of Jesus). I fully believe my hands now have the power to do this, and I have felt called to pray for couples and individuals who are experiencing loss in this area of their lives. What struck me about having this dream was how God used me in such a broken place. 

There were so many dreams I had after I lost Norah; I don't have enough room or time to write them out right now. Our relationship with God is supposed to be living and dynamic. God speaks to me through his Word, through dreams, and directly from His mouth. Don't limit God and how He can speak to us. When we put limitations and a box on God, then we cut ourselves short of having a more living and active relationship with Him. 

One more cool story and this will most likely be the last one...Jake, our son, is kind of like the kid in the "Heaven is for Real" book. Jake can go to heaven and see different things. Jason and I discovered this last year, when Jake would say different things, like describing what his bedroom looked like in heaven, describe Jesus' features, or what angels look like (in detail). When Jake paints, he would paint things like spiritual warfare, fights between angels and demons, so this kid is just amazing to say the least! Well, several times after Norah died, he would go to heaven (in his mind/imagination) and one time he did, he went to a part of heaven where "babies go when they die in their mommy's tummies." He talked about seeing angels, seeing Jesus, and seeing these children running around in heaven. He then said he saw Norah and he described what she looked like. He told me she had curly red hair and a dress made of jewels. Now, for those of you don't know, Norah had bright red hair! Jason and I actually smiled/laughed when we saw her. She was long, skinny, white like me, and bright red hair. Jake did not know what she looked like. Then, a couple weeks after that, we went to church, and Jake put his hands on this guy's head (now a friend), and Jake told him he wanted him to go to heaven with him, so this guy gets a vision and sees this little girl with red hair. Jake said, "That's my sister, Norah." This man actually lost a child and saw his own child as well. During the latter weeks, Jake would "take me to heaven" as well, where I could actually see what Norah looks like in heaven. When I remember Norah, I don't see the corpse in my arms, I see her alive in heaven. I do honor what her earthly body looked like, as I have pictures of her, but that hospital room was not the end of her story. The urn her ashes in are not the end of her story. When Jason and I went to the funeral home several days after getting home from the hospital, I could not bring myself to go into the funeral home; Jason had to be strong for this one. When he handed me the urn and I held her ashes, I cried and said, "This is just the remains of her body. Norah is not in this urn. She lives in heaven." Oh, how that brought me such comfort during that time.

Throughout this time, Jason and I have grown closer in our marriage. Some warned us to not take our grief out on each other, and that men and women grieve differently. That was helpful for us to know and was words of wisdom. He and I have grown incredibly close to each other, and I realize how wonderful of a best friend he is and am so grateful for this. He and I have known each other for 3 years, but it has felt like 20 years. We have walked through much together in our short time of knowing each other, and our roots go deep.

If you have read through this, thank you. I want to record more spiritual experiences and testimonies from God, but feel like this is enough for now. It is wonderful writing this out, but it's also tiring. I don't want to forget these things; I want to remember them and be able to look back on it, and remember all that God has done. I also want to put words to all the testimonies God has done in our lives, and have it ready to talk about, if God invites me to share with someone in the future. I'm hoping this spoke to some of you today! If you could pray for one thing, pray for continued health for my body, and also pray that I would be able to paint again. I know it's just a matter of putting the brush on the canvas, but I have not been able to paint since losing Norah. I did one painting for the girls one time, but not like my "normal" painting. I know that will be good for me, and I just need to do it.

The New Year

I wake up this morning a bit groggy from the holidays, recovering from the plethora of emotions and battles that came with it. There were also good things that came from Christmas and I am grateful for those things, but it is true what they say, the first holiday season after your loss is very difficult. Whether or not I chose to feel the grief, the wave swept over me, and at times overcame me. It was quite overwhelming at times. It felt good knowing what it was, instead of wondering why I felt that way. The awareness helped me feel not so vulnerable to the onslaught of emotions that came with Christmas, and not having the gift I was expecting this Christmas. 

The year of 2014 has been a year of overwhelming loss, not just with Norah, but with other areas of my life as well. My dreams of what I thought my future would look like were stolen from me, and it was swift and brutal. What I would also say of 2014, is that it's been a year of incredible change and breakthrough. With all of the changes, I am surprised at how much I feel my life has been orchestrated and how even the smallest of details have been interwoven in my life story. The changes that have happened both in my life and inside of me seem to be pertinent to what God is calling me to. I feel that I have crossed the threshing floor, and the only things which have survived are the unshakable. Everything else has been burned away; everything that was named a hindrance in God's eyes was taken away and lifted from my shoulders. I think when we cross the threshing floor, it's a painful transition from what we thought was true for our lives to what God has planned for our lives. With all this said, I know it wasn't God's plan to take Norah away; however, He knew it was going to be a part of my life story and He is using it to mold me and shape me.

I've heard many times from God that 2015 is a year of recompense and restoration. I needed to hear it straight from His mouth instead of others, because it carried a weight and a promise that filled my heart. I don't know what 2015 holds, and I don't have expectations that it will be perfect. It will still be messy, full of mistakes, tears, but it will also be full of joy, life, beauty, and memories. 

I have one resolution this next year for our family, and it's to nurture and find relationships that are healthy and long-lasting, to have friends and community that God brings into our family's life, where there is unconditional love and support, healthiness, sharpening, depth, and unselfish ambitions. I am choosing to break free from all dysfunctional and unhealthy systems and relationships, and choosing to enter into the good and the healthy. 

I'm looking forward to 2015 and all that it does hold me myself and our family.