one of my most favorite memories from childhood is when my mom or dad would indulge me in a story when they were tucking me in at night.  and my most favorite stories were the true ones…from when they were little.

****

it must be said…that i do love the perspective that my two middle children can offer me.

tonight…after snacks, a movie, gum, water, bathroom, questions, and any other procrastinating situation that could possibly arise…i told them, “to bed.”

one of the benefits of summer…and the lack of schedule that follows…is that someone is usually taking up residence on aiden’s trundle.  either chase or annslee finagle their way in there most evenings…for a sibling sleepover, of sorts.  tonight…the trundle was chase’s.

as i was tucking them in…chase asked,

“mom?  where you ever in any school plays?

i replied,

“yes.”

the room was lit only by lamp light, and i sensed one of those stories that i, too, used to love.  the ones that start with a child saying, “tell me about when you were little.”

aiden was listening with interest and chase asked,

“which ones?”

i let my eyes look to the ceiling and quickly started going through the files of memories that my brain held entitled…”school plays.”

i remembered aloud,

“well…there was this one in elementary school called roddie riddle from mars…and the little boy who i had a crush on played roddie riddle.  his name was scott spurger.”

they giggled and chase perked up,

“did you have to kiss him???  who did you play? were you a main character?”

i laughed and said,

“no!  i was not a main character.  and i didn’t have to kiss him!  i think i was a dancer or something.”

chase then asked,

“where you in any other school plays?”

the file in my head was pretty empty…besides the senior musical in high school.  so i answered…

“i only remember being in one other one.  it was the senior musical…my last year of high school.”

at this point…i was totally engulfed in their mesmerized world of school plays and main characters and learning lines.

i continued…

“it was grease.  i actually tried out for the main character, sandy, and got called back for it.  but…i chickened out of the second call back and ended up a dancer.”

hmmmm, i thought.  again with the dancer bit.  i realized the pattern.  what was it with me and the “dancer” rolls?

chase was concerned…and asked,

“so you didn’t get the lead because you were scared of memorizing the lines???”

i thought for a second.

“i guess.  i remember thinking that there was no way i could remember all those lines.  too bad…huh???  i should never have allowed fear to get in my way.”

chase exclaimed,

“mom!!!  you could have been a star!!!”

“HA,”  i laughed.

and then aiden…

always ready to offer the hard truth…comforted me with this,

“well…you made the right decision.  you know…….to be our mom instead.”

and with that…

i kissed their foreheads,

smiled,

and said,

“yes.  i did.”

It’s 2:54 in the afternoon.  They left a little over 2 hours ago…and I am already feeling a small ache…missing those 2 boys.  Colton took my place on the Kenya trip…and how my boy is old enough for a trip like that escapes me.  He just called from the airport…and I brought up all sorts of random things to talk about, lingering over topics like what he ate for lunch and how his littlest sister can’t find her earphones…even though she looked in her hello kitty box in her room, just to be able to keep hearing his voice.

Yesterday, we spent the day shopping for the things that he and Chad needed for the trip.  We hit all sorts of stores…discussing what kinds of stickers and bubbles and soccer balls the kids in Kenya would most like.  They can’t wear jeans over there…so we had to get Colt some light weight khakis.  We decided to go as a family…and lectured the kids in great detail about what their behavior needed to be in the stores.  We had an unfortunate experience in Academy a few nights back that resulted in leaving a basket in the middle of the boy’s athletic clothes and heading home…due to a fight that broke out over who pushed the cart.  Chad had had enough.  (I gave him a break and agreed to come back alone.  He’s an amateur when it comes to shopping with all 4 kids.  Well…shopping, in general.)  So…after some serious warnings…we tried again.  This time we went to Sun and Ski Sports to see if we could find some of the clothing items they needed.  I’m fairly certain that our pictures are on the wall in the employee break room in Academy under a “Don’t let these people on the premises” sign.  Things were going fairly smoothly until Annslee disappeared from the dressing rooms.  I quickly located her sitting in a kayak…that was up on a display shelf in the middle of the store.  I asked her if she really thought that was a good idea.  I’m pretty sure she did.

Chase was so busy playing mine craft that he barely looked up from his itouch.  When we stopped for lunch…Chad made mention of the Africa trip (for the billionth time over the last several months)  and Chase looked up, interested for the first time in the subject and says,

“Colton’s going to Africa????  Can I have his room?”

****

Today marked (what would be) the 12th week of the pregnancy.  When I realized that, I allowed myself to think about what this week could have been like.  I would have had the 12 week ultrasound with the high risk doctor…where we would have found out if the baby was a boy or a girl.  I allowed myself to wonder which it was.  I allowed myself to remember what that excitement felt like…and feel sad that this week won’t hold any of that.  I wondered if I would have told Chad whether we were having another son or another daughter via e-mail…or if I would have waited until he got back.  I decided that I would have probably told him on Sunday…Father’s Day.  I would have found a way to let him know…and I would have let him tell Colton.

Already being a little emotional made saying goodbye a little harder, I think.  But also a little sweeter.

 

I think she feels the way I feel:  like looking down.  and not smiling.

Now I just have to find a way to fill my time until around 2 am.  That’s when I made them promise to call me from London during their lay over.  I wonder if Colt will be in the mood to discuss pleasantries, like whether he enjoyed the peanuts or the pretzels more and what they offered for dinner on the plane and whether or not Chad is using appropriate amounts of hand gel, just so I can keep listening to his voice?

in retrospect…going straight from the couch to the soccer field may not have been the best strategy.  but i can’t pretend that i’ve ever been something other than impulsive.

i told my team mates to put me down as a sub.  i wasn’t sure when i would be able to play again and i wasn’t sure what my body would even allow me to do.  i have been out of the sport for a good 3 months…and on the couch for the last 25 days.  but my body was begging me to do something.  anything.  just get up.  move.

my mind and heart, however were not quite there.

they lagged behind…

they were all,

“but we have been through a thing.  and we need the break.  we deserve a break.”

our team captain (and my sweet friend) shot me a text saturday morning.

“game tomorrow at 6.  want to sub in?”

i thought for a second…

my head and heart having a substantial inner argument with my body…

and replied,

“i can try.”

she said, “yay!!!  we will make sure you take it easy.”

i made sure to be honest.  heaven forbid these people…these team mates…these friends actually rely on me.

“i have no idea what i’ll be able to do, to be honest.  but i have to start somewhere.”

yesterday…(the day of the game)…i went to church (against my will); took the kids to ihop while chad made announcements at the next service (that new french toast commercial had been calling out to me); and then declared that i was going to lay down for just a minute to rest and read my book.  3 hours later…i woke up.  i looked at the clock, like it was a ticking time bomb.  4:00.  good lord.  i only have 2 hours till the start of the game and i have yet to even see if i can run without doubling over.

i lay there until 4:30…my mind and heart doing their absolute best at trying to talk me out of showing up for the game.  i had my text all planned out.

“i’m really sorry.  i thought i’d be ready…but i’m just not.  i need more time.”

and i knew…without a shadow of a doubt that my text would be received well.  after all…i have been through a thing.

but my body just wouldn’t let me do it.  i knew the truth.  it’s not gonna get any easier.  even though i am still bleeding…my doctor had cleared me to play.  i was cleared to “resume” all normal activity.  like…ok…this whole thing is done with and you can just pop on back to your normal life.  only…as i discovered on the soccer field last night…it just doesn’t work that way.

i went into my room…dug to the bottom of my dresser drawer and located my uniform.

clarkson.  number 8.

that seemed like a lifetime ago.

it was a short lifetime.  but it was a lifetime.  my baby’s lifetime.

i put it on without thinking.  if i thought about it…i would fold it right back up and reach for the sweat pants.  and that wasn’t gonna help anybody.

i went through the motions.  fastening my shin guards and ankle brace.  slipping my feet into the sambas that i once loved to lace.  packing my bag with extra pads in case all the running caused me to bleed heavily.  filling the water bottle with cold water.

the hardest part was walking into the room were the kids were… and watching their eyes adjust to that version of my “old” self and saying, “MOM!!!  ARE YOU GONNA PLAY SOCCER????”  i could only imagine what they were thinking.  “no way.  you’ve been sleeping for a month.  this is gonna be a disaster.”  but then i realized…those were just my thoughts.  ok…and maybe chase’s.  he did sit down next to me and say…”i’ll pray for you.”  followed by something like, “don’t break anything.”

****

i walked into the building and luckily avoided the staff asking me where i’d been?  my entire team trickled in and no one even said anything stupid.  i say this…because i am notorious for saying stupid things in these sorts of situations.  no one ignored the situation.  but they didn’t get all weird and uncomfortable…making me feel equally weird and uncomfortable either.  they were perfect.

they told me that i was only allowed to play 2 minute bursts…to get my feet wet again.  and it wasn’t in a “you’re so out of shape that you are going to humiliate us” way…it was in a “we know what you’ve been through and whatever you can do is ok and we are here to support you and take care of you” way.  and that was a relief.  no one was expecting anything.  they were just glad i was there.

soccer was something that brought me such satisfaction and joy before.  and i hoped it would do so again.  however…when i took my place on the field…i realized,

“my heart is not here.”

i was up against a girl that was so fast and quick that i probably wouldn’t have beaten her when i was at my best this time last year…scoring hat tricks and connecting assists and never tiring.  although i was never some soccer superstar…i at least made a difference in the game. but last night…when i was running to try to win a pass down the line…being chased (and caught) by this girl who had absolutely no idea who i was…all i could think was…

“who even cares!  why am i here???  beat me to the ball!!  i don’t care!  i’ll lay a red carpet out for you to score a goal.  this means nothing.  my baby just died.”

used to…i would have to be called off the field.  used to…nothing mattered to me more than bringing it out there.  nothing mattered to me more than scoring and making great passes and performing to the best of my ability.  it made me happy.  it made me satisfied.

i felt like a porcelain doll last night.  i felt like i was two seconds from shattering all over the field.

and nothing about that made me happy.  nothing about that made me satisfied.

 i was just…

sad.

BUT…

when i got home…and chad asked,

“how do you feel?”

i had to reply,

“supported.”

because…as hard as that game was for me…there was joy to be found there.  every member of my team had my back.  they didn’t care how i performed.  my worth was not in what i could or couldn’t do.  my worth was in “who” i was.  they would not let me go against the “linebacker” on the other team.  they wouldn’t let me get too tired.  they wouldn’t let me stay out there too long.  they were watching me closely.  not because they cared what i contributed to the game…but because they cared about how i was.  they cared about my heart and my body.  they knew me…and they knew where i was.  and if my heart wasn’t in it…that was ok.  and they would be patient with me.  and they would teach me to be patient with myself.

****

i now view myself like a muscle in the body.

you tear it down…in order for it to come back stronger.

last night…i was emotionally and physically torn down.  and i let it happen.  i came home…took a shower…and went to bed.  i went to bed sad…dissatisfied…frustrated…hopeless that i would ever feel “good” again.

but when i woke up this morning…

i felt a little bit stronger.

i made myself get up.  and it was different this time.  because my heart wanted to get up.  i went to the y.  i tried a new body pump class.  sure.  i used the lightest weights.  i did a fraction of what i would have done 3 months ago.  but i felt strong.  and i didn’t let myself quit when it got hard.  and when i walked out of the front doors into the sun…

i knew that i had come back a little stronger.

and with a little more hope.

and something about that made me smile.

i’ve decided that one does and thinks strange things while recovering.  it’s been 12 days since i officially miscarried our baby, and 24 days since i found out that something might be wrong.  in that time…i’ve done a lot of “feeling.”  and it’s really amazing how quickly emotions can change.

i spent a good 4 days in bed.  not because i wanted to.  i didn’t have a choice.  people don’t know how hard a miscarriage can be on a mother’s body.  not to mention her heart.  and the two pains together??  well…they are nearly unbearable. for 2 of those days…annslee wouldn’t leave my side.  she would saddle up next to me in bed and watch sprout or play my phone as i fitfully slept.  one of the games she would play on my phone had a child’s voice calling for it’s mama.  i would hear it in my sleep and dream it was my baby calling for me to come.  i would try to find the voice…but i never could.  and sometimes i would cry with the voice.  i would call back.  i would cry out that i was sorry i couldn’t find it…i was trying…i wanted to reach it and hold it and rock it…but i couldn’t.  when i would finally wake…i would ask annslee to play a different game.  and she would.  but she never knew why.

so…last friday morning…(which was 5 days post miscarriage)…i tried to stand up after chad got the kids off to school.  i had tried the morning before and realized that i couldn’t stand up straight without it hurting pretty badly…so i collapsed right back in bed.  and on that friday morning…i could stand up.  i walked into the kitchen and made a cup of coffee.  this was a huge success for me.  it’s weird how the simplest task feels like a monumental occasion after going through something like this.  and i didn’t even cry at the realization that i could now drink caffeinated coffee because i was no longer pregnant.  it’s also weird how quickly you get used to protecting that baby.  no coffee.  no alcohol.  no hot, hot baths.  no emptying the kitty litter.  no eating weird, soft cheeses.  and all of a sudden…i didn’t have to worry about that stuff anymore.  however…i still caught myself questioning it.  wait…is the water too hot????  oh yeah.  it doesn’t matter anymore.

on that friday morning, while my coffee was slowly dripping into my mug, i looked around the kitchen.  it seemed like a foreign place to me.  i had been in bed for 4 days.  i only saw my bedroom and my bathroom.  my mother and chad had taken charge of the kitchen.  and it wasn’t used to me being in it. i stood there a while…sort of introducing myself again.  and that room sensed that i was somehow different.  i would never be the same.  but it welcomed me anyway.  and it said that who i was now was ok.

the first thing i did was rip the “may” page of the calendar off and throw it away…revealing the blank month of june.  i was done with may.  i needed may to be over.  i needed to look ahead.  i didn’t need to look back at may anymore…or see where i had excitedly written that first appointment down…expecting to see my baby’s heartbeat.  i didn’t need to look back at those days when i was still pregnant and happy.  i needed to see the future.  i needed to see june.

and then i just started rearranging the entire kitchen.  the coffee pot was all wrong where it was and needed a new home on the opposite counter.  i worked for 2 hours.  i cleaned every service of that kitchen.  and when i was done…it looked like a new room.  it was ready for summer.  and so was i.

after that…i decided that i needed a new purse.  like…right then.  so…obviously i decided to go shopping.  i went by myself.  colton watched annslee for me…and i looked at every purse in the bay area like my life depended on it.  i bought 2.  plus a wallet.

i’ve read my bible more.  because that’s what i do when i’m struggling.  i try to find answers.

i haven’t found any answers.  but i have been comforted.

last saturday morning, i woke up around 9:30.  that’s been another thing.  people tend to just let me sleep.  and i’ve slept a lot.  i didn’t hear anybody…so i wandered into the front room where i could see the driveway from the front window.  that’s when i noticed that chad and the kids had decided to tack on to another garage sale on our street and had trudged a bunch of stuff out of our house and garage to the end of the driveway with a “for sale” sign in the yard.  i stood there for a minute and then saw some random lady holding up a piece of my old lingerie in front of her body.  i guess i was too numb to even care…because i just stood there…sipping my coffee…watching articles of my undergarments being sold for a dollar.  whatever.

sometimes people say all the right things.  and sometimes they don’t…and i get mad.  i don’t get mad at them…i just get mad in general.  the anger doesn’t last long.  but one thing i’ve learned about myself is that the worst thing for me is when people pretend it didn’t happen.  like…they just don’t say anything and they don’t acknowledge what i am going through.  like, “we’re just gonna pretend this whole thing didn’t happen.”  yeah…i’ve learned that’s not helpful.  i know people are different and for some…that would be the best thing.  but not for me.  so…i know that there are some times…that i will have to be uncomfortable so that someone else (the person who likes to sweep things under the rug) will be comfortable.  and it’s ok for me to distance myself from that if i need to.  it won’t feel that way forever.

****

chase made the battle of the alamo out of blocks and army men.  this kid really amazes me with this sort of stuff.

i’ve tried to get outside more.  the sun going down and the cool breeze in the evening is like a friend’s invitation for coffee.  and after sitting for a spell…i even felt like grabbing my camera.

 

i’m working on teaching myself how to photograph in manual.  it’s harder than it seems it should be…but the colors are amazingly better than in automatic.

 

i see the most difference in their eyes.

 

i started a book.  and that has been useful in softening some of those sneaky emotions.

i’ve always been able to be absorbed into characters…forgetting a bit of myself…becoming them…in the safest way.

 

on this particular evening…the sun lit the clouds like magic and turned them into the prettiest orange.  aiden pointed out this cloud and whispered, “it looks like heaven.”

i instantly pictured my grandparents…both of my uncles that died a few days after their birth…chad’s grandparents…and best of all…Jesus…holding and loving my baby.  i pictured them happy and laughing.  i pictured a beating heart and a sweet smile.

 

yes…one does and thinks strange things while recovering, indeed.

i knew this would be a hard story to tell.  and most of all…i didn’t want it to ever be my story.  but it is.  and there is absolutely nothing i can do about it…other than accept it as such.

so many of you already know what has happened.  but so many of you don’t.  and i’ve never been one to hide.  i can’t walk around in life half way.  i can’t always wonder…

did they know??

about 5 weeks ago…chad and i found ourselves pregnant.

i say it that way…because that’s really what it was like.  we weren’t expecting it…or trying for it…or waiting for it.

that’s what made it so different from the previous 4 times we had been in that situation.

it brought shock, first.  and for me…that shock faded quickly…and turned into excitement.  and the excitement gave way to pure happiness.  and the happiness paved the way for dreams.  and within a week…it was impossible to think of life before there were 5.

5 children.

i was going to have 5 children.

at my first appointment…as well as i could guess…i was around 7 weeks pregnant.  and i was going to see my baby’s heartbeat.

she said…here’s the yolk sac.  here’s the baby.  it’s measuring 5 weeks and 5 days…which is too early to see a heartbeat.  she finished up and helped me sit up.  i had been through this 4 times before…and every time…i smiled through this whole event.  and i realized…i hadn’t smiled.  at all.  something was wrong.

she said, “please don’t worry.  i can see it on your face.  don’t worry.  come back next week…and we will do another ultrasound.  hopefully the baby will have grown and we will see a heartbeat.  everything looks like it should.  your numbers are great.  don’t worry…you don’t know your dates…so chances are…you caught the pregnancy really early.”

and no matter what i did…no matter how hard i tried…i could not make those dates add up.

that’s when we started praying and calling on family and friends to pray.  that’s when i started having to trust God for the outcome of this baby.  and truly…i did.  i trusted Him like nobody’s business.  i believed that He could breath life into this baby.  i believed that He was going to do just that.   i believed that at the next ultrasound appointment…it was going to be the beginning of a happy day.  i waited.  i prayed.  i begged.  i believed.

when the next appointment came…nothing had changed.  and that was devastating.  i’ll never forget putting my face in my hands and silently sobbing.  i’ll never forget the frozen image of our baby on the screen.  i’ll never forget the technician saying, “i’m sorry.”  i’ll never forget looking at chad…with his head in his hands.  i’ll never forget him saying, 

“ah.  that’s not what i was expecting to hear.”

and he wasn’t saying it to me.

he was saying it to God.

he was grieving.

it seemed like an eternity…waiting for my doctor.

i remember chad saying…

“do you want me to go get someone in here?”

no.  she’ll come when she can.

after all…this was the same woman who had dropped everything and come to me when she wasn’t even on call to deliver annslee.  she would come when she could.

and she did.  and she shared her own story.  and she offered comfort.  and she offered hope.  she said our stories were similar.  and that made all the difference.

she also said…i really think we should wait until monday.  i will squeeze you in.  i want to scan you again.  i want to be 100%.

that’s when i decided that i would wait.  even thought i didn’t want to.  i would wait.  but i wouldn’t hope.  as excruciating as the waiting would be…the hoping would be worse.

those 5 days were the hardest.  my baby was inside of me.  lifeless.  and there was absolutely nothing i could do about it.  i’m convinced that those 5 days will become lost somewhere in my memory eventually.  except for one night.  one night…i realized what my friends and family were praying for without telling me.

a miracle.

and i wondered…would i ever forgive myself if i didn’t ask the creator God to perform a miracle on this baby?  and i knew the answer.  i had to become vulnerable before Him.  i had to open myself up to hope one last time.  and that prayer was the hardest of all.

it was then that i bowed before Him and asked for a miracle.  i opened myself up to hope.  and after that…i told him that if He didn’t see fit to it…that i was willing to give over my child.  i gave up my child to Him.  and i cried.

the next ultrasound showed the same and this time…i didn’t cry when i saw the screen.  i knew that that baby was gone.  that baby was with Jesus.  and that baby was ok.

the doctor called it a “missed miscarriage.”  somehow…my body had missed it.

i had had a miscarriage.

that sentence held so much more weight than it ever had before.  you don’t fully understand the weight of that sentence until it has to be uttered out of your own mouth.  you can mourn with friends after it has happen to them.  you can feel sad.  you can feel sorry.  but you don’t feel the weight.  you just don’t

i had two choices.  i could have surgery to remove it…or i could take medicine to make it happen at home.  one would be quick.  one would be excruciatingly painful…both emotionally and physically.  we choice the latter.  surgery has risks and is expensive.  if possible…i felt that, for the first time in my life, i had the smallest understanding of Jesus in the garden.

“please Father…i can’t do this.  please…let this cup pass from me.  this is going to hurt…so bad.  this is going to hurt me.  please.”

chad said, “i won’t leave you.”

and he didn’t.

i took the pills alone.  knowing what those pills were going to do…i willingly swallowed them.  and i lie down and waited.  i waited for the storm to come.  i waited for the pain to come.

and it did.

throughout that night…as our 4 children peacefully slept…i walked through hell.  i experienced pouring death from my body.  chad would feel me writhe with pain and walk beside me to the place where it would pour out.  there were baseball sized clots of tissue coming one after the other followed by gushing blood and fluid.  my hands would shake as i tried to clean myself up.  and i would sob.

my body was going through it…and as a mother…i was going through it.  and as i watched, what should have been life, drain from my body…chad had his hand on my back.  he was steady as a rock.  the look on his face was not one of disgust.  it was one of compassion and strength.  i would remove the tissue and he would take it from me.  he never made me have to decide what to do with it.  he never made me throw it away.  he knew…without me ever having to say a word…that i could not be the one to physically let it go.  he cleaned the floors on his hands and knees…over and over again.  he was with me.  i wasn’t alone.

the next day…i couldn’t even stand up because of how much blood i had lost.  i slept.  i slept all day.

and slowly…as the days have passed…my body and spirit has begun to recover.  i keep telling myself,

“you are strong.  you can do this.  you will be okay.”

and i will be.

may is supposed to be such a happy month…the quickly approaching summer…the evidence of the promises of new life…warm breezes replacing cool evenings…lemonade.  yet life has the ability to present trials without warning or preparation, threatening all joy in it’s wake.

the trick when faced with sadness, is not getting stuck in the anger.  with sadness comes grief.  and with grief comes anger.  and with anger comes…doubt.

as i have walked this dark road…there have been times that i felt courted by the enemy.  and to be honest…i spent a good, full day listening to him.  he whispered lies of God’s character.  he invited me to dance to the music of false hope.  he offered me fruit of destruction to eat.  he wanted me to believe that anger and a hard heart would make it hurt less.  he taught me to laugh at God and His promises.  and he did it in such a sneaky way.  he disguised it as…normal.  this is a “normal” way to feel.  after all…that God of yours gave you something…only to take it away.

i spoke with a friend for a long time that night…after i had been courted all day.  i told her of my new thoughts about this God that we serve.  and as i was speaking my new thoughts…it was then that i realized that they weren’t really MY thoughts…but his.

i’ve been clutching tight to my friend’s words over the last few days:

“don’t listen too long, friend.”

and i’ve realized that when i am faced with something i don’t want to be faced with…that tends to be my weakness.

i listen too long.  my mind becomes weak…and it starts believing things that are untrue.  it starts believing things that are dangerous.

and although this month of may has me facing sadness…there is also joy.

without sadness in life…would we even know joy?

today…i choose to find joy in…

saint patrick’s day green:

my son playing “home” on the ukulele:

my mama dove friend who returned home:

 

the color yellow:

 

innocence:

 

tip-toes:

 

big brown eyes and light blonde hair:

 

twirling:

 

hatching eggs:

expressions:

 

her turning my favorite number:

a husband who loves his family:

 

four generations on mother’s day:

 

the fact that she asked for a “skillet” for her birthday:

 

fairy gardens:

 

those four generations making cookies:

 

and obviously…my sweet chase.  even if he is going through a “no pictures please” phase.

 

joy is always around.  but sometimes…you have to be willing to see it.

This story is going to be a hard one to write.  But it is my story.  It’s my truth.  And writing it is taking the swirling thoughts of worry and fear and confusion that are taking up residence in my mind and putting them down…concretely…concisely.  And it makes them more bearable.  Because any time we allow others into our stories…we are no longer bearing so much of the weight on our own shoulders.  And right now…I need my people.  I need my people’s shoulders.

I had great ideas about how I wanted to celebrate with the rest of our little world.  I had scoured pinterest for the newest and most unique ways of doing this.  And as the days rolled by…I became more and more excited about it.

This is not any of those cute and unique ways that I was planning on.

Three weeks ago, today…I found out that we were pregnant with our 5th baby.

Although we had not planned for it…or tried for it…it was here.  God had chosen us…chosen us to be the family for another one of his children.  And quickly…the shock turned into gratitude.

We made the decision to keep it quiet…more for embarrassment reasons than anything else.  Chad did not want to hear comments like, “Don’t you know how that happens???” or “Five kids????  Are y’all crazy????”  And although it was hard…I agreed.

But due to my complete inability to keep any sort of happiness to myself…a few of you figured it out.  I told my parents and my brother…who I can’t keep ANYTHING from; our children…who saw me taking up residence on the couch and started wondering why; and my everyday people who know there ain’t no way that I would give up regular coffee in the mornings, a coke in the afternoon, or a cup full of the homemade sangria at girl’s night. And there were my people who knew me well enough to know that I would never not show up for a soccer game and then drop out mid season without an explanation.  Other than that…no one knows.

I had been counting down the days to my doctor’s appointment this morning.  I made it for 8:30…knowing that even an additional hours wait to see my baby’s flickering heart beating on that black and white screen would be more that this impatient kid could handle.

They did the ultrasound…and the baby measured 5 weeks and 5 days…and it was too early to see a heartbeat.  The problem with that is that it doesn’t line up on my calendar.  I should be 7 weeks.  According to my human knowledge…I should have been able to see that heart beating.

So…I have to wait.  I have to wait a whole week to go back in and have another ultrasound to see if everything is ok.

In my heart…there are two possibilities.

One…that God’s surprising timing is his own and my calendar has no real bearing on this life that he created and I will see a 6 week 5 day baby with a strong, beating heart next week;

or…that our baby stopped growing at 5 weeks and 5 days and is gone.

God created this baby alright…without any planning from us.  My unknown…my reality…the question that I can’t quit asking is:

Did he create it for this life…a life in our family…a life with 4 siblings and grandparents who love and cherish it and a mama and daddy that couldn’t love anyone more…to be held and swaddled and rocked by us?

or did he create this life for his kingdom?

And for the first time in my 38 years…my heart is able to say,

“Either way, my Lord…I love you.  I praise your name.  You are good.”

And that is something I’ve never been able to do.

I love typing the happiness blogs…with pictures of smiles and life and celebration.  And those days and moments far outweigh these days and moments of grief and wondering and painfully begging for a life…

we are indeed blessed.

But today is real.  Today…this is my story.  And I have to settle in close to His shoulder and let Him stroke my hair and whisper…

“I have this, sweet girl.  I have this.”

****

If you have found yourself reading this post somehow…and are the praying kind…

we would greatly appreciate your praying for us.

today was the last day of co-op.  that means that i no longer teach pre-school every tuesday and thursday.  i loved those kids…but hollllllaaaaaa…this girl is ready for summer.

summer means…life relaxes into a softer, slower rhythm.  don’t get me wrong…i can get excited about new back packs; a fresh box of crayons; never written in spirals with the promise of maturing stories; and freshly sharpened pencils like nobody’s business.  and i always start strong.  schedules and meal plans taped to the fridge.  lunch kits taking residence on a main shelf in the pantry.  alarm set at 6:45 and outfits picked out the night before.  but that’s not where i like to live.  i do it.  and i find joy in it for a while.  but i wear down after christmas.  and then it’s just…hang on till summer!  it’s a-comin’.

because summer is where laid back lives.  and that’s pretty much where i like to dwell.

summer is reading books for fun.  it’s piling in mama and daddy’s bed for a late night movie.  back packs are replaced by swim bags on the hooks by the door.  lunch kits are replaced with a picnic basket.  the alarm clock is switched off for good.  schedules are replaced with a summer bucket list.  and once a week ice cream outings with friends are put into affect.

yeah.  some people are school year people.  and i love that about them.  but…you’ll never hear me say, “laaaawwwddd have mercy…i can’t wait to get these kids back to school.”  i like to live in summer.

and it might as well be the day after thanksgiving…where the magic of christmas is upon us, this last month of school!  because each night gets a little more relaxed.  homework gets a little less “necessary.”  we head out barefoot.  we linger in the driveway, laughing with neighbors a little longer.  it’s a-comin’.

enjoying lately:

MASTER’S SUNDAY!

little girl sleepovers…complete with shirley temples:

sleeping in tents and summer jammies:

perched lip photos and the fact that she constantly wears that dress-up veil.  she calls it her hair…cuz she wants hair like her sister’s:

it’s a-growin’ puddin’ cup…don’t you worry.  besides…you look like a doll.  and…you got pixie flair!

familly hang outs:

a visit from a friend from s.c.

she happens to take the best pictures!  i only wish we had gotten some of her!

little girls in pink leotards.  just because:

looking tired:

being windblown:

 and looking up:

here’s to looking up.  summer’s a-comin’.

i’m gonna live there a while.

sibling love and support and celebration is a happiness that surpasses most anything else.  it never ceases to bring laughter and swelling pride.

 

in soccer…scoring 3 goals in a game is called a “hat trick.”

 

it is not easily done…and is a right of passage, of sorts, for a soccer player.

my girl did it.

unfortunately…her big brother didn’t get to come to the game to see her.  however, his reaction upon hearing the news was the best big brother reaction i think i’ve ever seen.

 

 

this relationship of theirs…

it grows every day.  and it’s beautiful…and raw…and real…and kind.

it’s love.

her little sister followed suit.

 

when i stood on the side-lines of the soccer field, watching my girl play and make things happen…i felt a pride and excitement that i didn’t think could be matched by any other moments that day.

and then we came home.

and i had been wrong.

i finally lit a candle, turned some music on, and sat down to write.  i miss writing.  i need writing.  it’s how i re-charge…see the little things…find the magic.  it’s how i learn and grow.  it’s how i want my kids to see their mother.  it’s how i sort things out.  it’s how i see things.  it’s how my voice is heard.

it’s relaxing…

it’s healing…

it’s good.

and so…as we begin to slowly wrap this school year in brown paper and tie it up with a piece of twine…as we do all good school years…i wish to write more.  and if i’m wishing for things…i’ll go ahead and wish to be less tired.  and to maybe add that 5th child to the family.  wait…what?  somewhere out there…chad just gasped and passed slap out.  it was a wish.  you can’t sensor a wish.  you can’t hold back.  dream big…right??

i know what you’re thinking.  

“5th child?  less tired??  the two don’t go together.”

but that’s what’s so great about wishes.  they don’t have to be logical.

****

i went to the dermatologist this morning.  and i’ll explain in a moment why it was good that i had made this appointment a couple of months ago…as if the good Lord knew that something was gonna happen to send me into a tale spin of dermatological obsession.

it’s never fun stripping down to your mis-matched undergarments.  i mean…it’s possible i was wearing a nursing bra from the early 2000’s.  you probably didn’t need to know that…but i’ve always appreciated the details of a story.

soooo…after you have had the privilege of stripping down to next to nothin’…someone with perfect skin gets to examine…in detail…all of your flaws.  and i have a lot of em.

i was blessed with the light blue eyes/blonde hair curse.

bad skin.

not necessarily wrinkles…

but freckles.

so anyhow…after we had checked and double checked and triple checked…and had the hot, male intern come in to look at some “questionables”…i couldn’t get dressed fast enough.

and that’s all it takes, apparently, to put you right back in your place.  and to let you know that…without a doubt…whatever self confidence and security in yourself and your body you have grown into over the years had nothin’ on a trip to the dermatologist.

****

on friday, i had the pleasure of going with a dear friend to take her 4 year old daughter to her chemo appointment at texas children’s hospital.

this…this is a beautiful child.

this is a child i have prayed for…and had others pray for.

this is a child who is making a difference in this world.

and this is a child who will continue to make a difference with every smile and laugh and wise word spoken.

she makes me happy.

she makes me brave.  just being around her…she changes me.  i dig deep and find the courage that she shows me is there.  she is truthful.  she is wise.  she is full of life.  she is true beauty and goodness.  she is Jesus’ strength and power and love.  she is real…and she is extraordinary.  she is what i long to be.

well…her mama was sick this particular day.  she was sick as can be.  she was the kind of sick that i have been afraid of since i was 12.  she was sick to her stomach.  and she was throwing up.  all. day. long.

she would hold herself together long enough to hold her baby down to be poked and prodded and never lose patience with the nurses who were doing it or the child who was demanding her strength that she didn’t have.  and then she would calmly walk to the bathroom and wretch.  she had no nutrients or fluid in her body.  she had no fuel to sustain her.  yet she kept going.  she kept comforting.  and she kept singing lullabies.  and she kept whispering how much she loved her sweet girl.  and she kept playing.  and getting snacks for her girl.  and she kept having her sweet baby take sips of water….even though she was the one who was dehydrated and weak and thirsty.  she kept telling the doctors and nurses thank you.  she kept focusing on everyone but herself.  and when it came to pass that her baby was going to need a blood transfusion…keeping us tethered to the hospital well into the evening…she kept worrying about me.  me.

she worried about my children…at home, safety with my friend and neighbor.  she worried i would miss my soccer game.  she worried about me.

i couldn’t believe what i was witnessing.  it was a kind of selflessness that i wasn’t used to.  it was Jesus.  again.  it was love.  it was an example of how on the cross…when he had every right to be totally focused on his own cup…his own pain…his own circumstances…he shouted out to the Father to forgive me…that i didn’t know what i was doing.  he loved me.

i don’t think i will ever forget last friday.  it was a gift to be there with these two people.  whatever i did to help them that day doesn’t compare to what they did for me.

God…bless them.  bless them both.  i beg.  they are here to serve you.  they are here to show people your love.  they do it well, Lord.  bless them for it.

 you may be wondering what the dermatologist has to do with that story.  well…as fate would have it…

while my friend was in the bathroom, throwing up for the bazillion time…a nurse walked up as i held that sweet girl in my lap and simply asked,

“are you her grandma?”

commence skin care regimen.