Dear Mama, just knock it off...

Dear Mama,

Just stop it....okay? Please! Will you? Just knock it off.

Seriously.

Stop it.

I see you. Sitting there.

Exhausted. Frustrated. Feeling like a failure.

You sit there. Its just another day. You've woken up and have already failed.

You look around you. The kids, parked in the front of the TV since 7am. Still probably in their PJ's, eating cereal and toaster waffles...again. Husband walks out the door and you are left with your failures staring you right in the face. You swear that today will different. At least you hope it will. But really, its all the same.

You see the piles of laundry in every room. The dishes from two days ago still sitting on the counter. The bathroom that needs a good bleaching. The beds unmade. The dirty diaper still sitting on the floor from the middle of the night change. The dust. The clutter. The mess.

Your mess. You haven't showered. You probably haven't even changed your underwear today. You throw on another pair of yoga pants because the baby just peed on you. You attempt to make yourself look presentable, just in case an unexpected visitor drops by, but you pray that doesn't happen.

Oh, the embarrassment! If a "friend" dropped by. She would see! She would silently judge you. She would go back to her spotless, perfect home and be thankful that she wasn't you. How horrible it must be to be you.


Okay, now stop it. Right now. Knock it off!

Take a breath.

This is a problem. A serious problem. And if you say you don't have this problem, you are lying.


But wait...I just want to show you a few pictures...of my house before I continue.

Okay, I hope you didn't actually believe me. Because, lets be realistic here...

Here's my ACTUAL house...

                                                 


                                                                           Breakfast

                                                     Yes, that is laundry in the kitchen

Okay, so...Here's my point in all of this.

Not for one second do I feel guilty about this. If you come over, it will probably look like this. Probably messier. Why? Is it because I'm lazy? eh, maybe sometimes. Is it because I'm just not a very good mother or wife? That I just don't care? That maybe I'm too poor to afford nice things?

No. Not at all. And if thats what you think about yourself and your home, you need to STOP IT RIGHT NOW!

We live in a society that LOVES to brag. Hello? SEFLIES???

We are more willing to show people the perfect parts of our lives than the messy parts. We drown ourselves in guilt as we scroll through pinterest seeing all of things that we aren't doing. Somehow, we believe that if our worlds were cleaner, prettier and more expensive that we too, are better people. That others would look at us and think "wow! She has it all together."

Can we just stop?!?!

I want you to come to my house and feel like "yes! Her house is messy, just like mine!"
I don't want you to feel shame because you think that everyone else MUST have a beautiful home, perfect children, and a gorgeous wardrobe.

Can I just remind you, that you are beautiful. That you are loved. And you are amazing with all of your mess.  That you HAVE to STOP IT!!! Stop comparing. Stop. Now. Stop comparing yourself to your girlfriends, your mother in law, your neighbor or enemy. Just Stop.

Embrace your mess. Smile, because that mess means that there is life. There are people in your home making that mess. There are kids running around who love you dearly and that don't care if you are wearing the same thing you did yesterday or that you haven't brushed your teeth. There are memories in some of our messes. Those clothes laying on the floor are probably from that time the baby puked on you, but you still held him close because he was sick and need his mommy more than you needed a clean shirt. They were probably from the mess of the frozen pizza you had again last night but enjoyed all of the silly stories your children told while at at the dinner table.They are probably the piles of school projects and homework that you are waiting to stash away for them when they grow up. Our messes mean something. They mean love. They mean sacrifice. They mean that you are doing something right.

And it will get cleaned...eventually. But Mama, don't you, for a second feel bad about the mess in your house, the appearance of your self, or the quality of your "stuff." And never allow someone, even yourself, to make you feel bad or that you are not good enough.

God gave you your kids, your husband and your home because He knew that is what you needed. What they needed.

Stop comparing. Stop feeling guilty. Stop feeling ashamed or embarrassed.

Embrace your mess. Be okay with it.
I'm okay with mine.
I'm okay with yours.
You should be okay too.

Striving for perfection

I used to know this woman, a mother. She was nearly perfect. She had a baby. Not just any baby, a perfect baby. This woman lived in a small town. She was loved by everyone she met. She met the man of her dreams who bought her a beautiful farm house out in the country. It was big and always clean. She became pregnant. She never gained any weight. She could afford the most expensive and adorable maternity clothes. She gave birth at home, no pain meds, but a beautiful birth surrounded by candles and worship music in the background. She breastfed her baby with no problems. She dressed her baby in beautiful clothes. Her baby slept all night from day one. Her baby never got sick, never cried, never did anything that would cause the mother any stress. 

She woke up every morning to clean and beautiful house. Well rested, she spent her morning in the kitchen baking from scratch. Scones, cakes, muffins, cookies, and she prepared multiple meals just for fun to have stocked in her freezer just in case there was a day in the next year where she didn't cook dinner. It was a rare occasion for her not to have a delicious hot meal prepared, fresh with organic vegetables that she grew in her own garden, on the table when her husband came home. She would always be showered and dressed exceptionally. Not a drop of spit or milk on her clothes. Her hair was always done and she smelled wonderful. 

Her child grew and stayed perfect. Her child never had a tantrum, never was disobedient and could recite bible verses on command. They would go to church on Sundays as a family where her husband was the pastor and she sang and played piano for worship every Sunday morning. She lead a women's bible study twice a week and could often be seen in her window at early hours of the morning sitting and ready her bible and drinking coffee.

 Her days consisted of cooking healthy meals, shopping at the local organic store, and visiting the other moms in town. She mostly just felt bad for them because their children were disobedient, watched too much tv, ate non-organic food and not to mention that their house was usually trashed. She felt the need to minister to these ladies because she clearly had her act together. She drove expensive minivan to playdates and always had healthy snacks prepared for her child and the others, whose moms forgot or didn't have something healthy them to eat. She felt bad for those children. She would watch the other moms, who hadn't showered, yelled at their kids, and seemed to be falling apart. She never understood why they had such a hard time. Soon, she had another child. Another perfect child who grew and made a perfect addition to their family. The children were home schooled and achieved high honors. They went to college at an early age. Her husband was always supportive, always happy and always "satisfied." They had a perfect marriage. They had lots of money. They were perfect.

I knew this woman. I knew her well. I was her. Or at least what the goal was for me to be. After learning I was pregnant the first time, this was the image of myself I had in my head. This was the wife, mother and woman I would become. It would be easy. People would look at me and think, wow, look at her. How does she do it and do it all so perfectly?

So, here I am, 5 years later, pregnant with my 4th child and things have clearly changed. That women I once longed to be, I now despise. I now look at her with anger and resentment. She may have had it all together but in long run, what did it get her. Was she relateable? Was she able to sympathize with other mothers who had a hard time? Was she able to minister to new moms in the those first crazy and confusing months? No. She was focused on herself and keeping herself and her child together at all times. She was prideful and selfish. She looked down and judged others for their "imperfections." She was rude and opinionated and often made others feel bad because they couldn't compete with her.

I am glad to say that I am nowhere near this woman. Far from it. My home, my children, my marriage, my finances, my cooking, my cleaning are not something to desire. I live in a world of imperfection. I am an imperfect mother. I am an imperfect wife. I have imperfect children, and I am PERFECTLY okay with it all. Nope, I don't cook, but I can make a mean PB&J that rocks the socks off of my 4yr old. My children disobey, make messes, have tantrums, and watch too much tv. I yell too much, shower too little and shop the Target clearance rack because I'm broke from feeding my kids non-organic food that I microwave most days. My house usually has a mess somewhere, and my minivan is cheap and filled with crumbs of cookies and fruit snacks that I fed the kids so they would be quiet on our way home from a hectic grocery run.

Do I feel any guilt about any of this? NOPE! None, whatsoever. I have embraced my imperfection. I know that all of that isn't important. I love my children and my husband fiercely, I love my God passionately and I know that I am eternally perfect in the eyes of my heavenly father. I know that I am not meant to be perfect by the worlds standards, nor would I want to be. The expectations on myself will be no higher than that of My creator. He expects me to love Him and others and to do it in the most passionate way I can. Whether that means reading the bible to my kids, praying with my husband or serving others outside of my home. God will not love me less if I can't cook or if my house is dirty or if my kids are naughty. He supplies me with all the things I need to live my life FOR HIM, not for myself or for what the world says I should be. I'm not out to impress anyone or have anyone envy my life. I am what God has made me and I am right where I am supposed to be, in the condition I'm supposed to be in. He will use me as I am. And I think THATS perfect :)

New things to come :)

Well, its finally time. I've been anxiously awaiting the past few weeks to be sure I was in the clear, and today I got the go ahead to announce that another little Lorentz baby has taken home in my belly :) Its been a stressful few weeks of waiting to see if this baby would make it past the same point we lost Riley. After an ultrasound today, I saw a VERY wiggly little peanut with a great heartbeat!

 

This baby is truly a gift :) So much so that on Christmas Day was when I received a postive pregnancy test. Chris and I are thrilled to welcome a new little one, as are kids.

 

So far, this pregnancy has been very different than my pregnancy with Riley. I've been very sick, tired, crampy, moody...everything in the book. I found myself praising the Lord as I'm puking up my dinner. Its been a very emotional few weeks. Thankfully, consistant illness in my house has helped keep my mind off of it. Having stomach flu, strep, croup and sinus infections in our house all of January kept me focused on other things :) So, I'm just about 10 weeks and baby should be here the end of August!!! Thank you Jesus for new life!

SO MUCH FROM SOMEONE SO SMALL…

The past few weeks I've gotten the chance with a lot of women who have experienced the pain of miscarriage. After a while, I started to notice that rarely are the fathers involved in the converstation. So, I asked my husband Chris to blog about his experience with our miscarriage. There are two sides to every story....here is his.

So where to begin?

My wife has asked me for several weeks to write my thoughts on our recent experiences and lovingly, I agreed, yet when she asked me to start writing, I’d say “Not Now,” partially because I’m still asking myself that question^, but mostly because I am a procrastinator by nature.

 

So here goes.

“How many kids do you want?” my then fiancé asked.

Emphatically I replied, “4! 2 boys, 2 girls. That way everyone has a brother and a sister and NO ONE can complain that they don’t get their own room, but their sibling does.”

Laughter ensued.

Fast-forward 5 years or so, we have 3 wonderful children. They are a so much fun, very busy, but one of the biggest blessings in my life. Then my wife starts asking, “So, what about that No.4?”

“NOT NOW!” probably more emphatic than my desire for 4 years earlier. “I mean, I still want 4 kids, but I don’t know if now is the right time for No.4. If it happens, fantastic, but let’s not intentionally be trying, ok?”

“OK.”

We’re on the same page with this one, (which is a critical key to a successful marriage: BE ON THE SAME PAGE.)

My phone rang, one Friday morning. I’m in my car in between clients, and I hear these words, “I’m pregnant!” I praise God I didn’t drive off the road at that moment and needless to say my mind was elsewhere throughout that day at work.

“How are we going to do this? Can we afford this? God, I thought we were on the same page, but obviously we weren’t privy to the fact you were turning the page. How in the world are we going to do this?”

As the days roll on, excitement does start to grow. As we find out in June we will be holding our 4^th child. We start seeking out baby names and all the joy that comes with an addition to the family. Yet my wife says, almost from the beginning, “I don’t think we’re going to meet this child.”

Being the caring husband, I calm her fears as unfounded. We’ve had 3 babies without even the threat of losing one. So, for me, this fear is unfounded. Thoughts of a miscarriage are the farthest thing from reality for me.

Date nights are a wonderful thing. I cherish the time I get one on one with my beloved bride. We were able to get some time away, grab some coffee and wander around Barnes & Noble. (Later, she showed me the exact spot where we were, when she knew our baby was about to lose its life.) We get home and asleep we go.

“CHRIS, WE NEED TO GO!” That is always the way I want to wake up at 1am!

The story from there, many of you already know, as my wife has so eloquently described in an earlier post, so I’ll spare the you another account of that narrative. (If you haven’t read it yet, STOP reading this now, grab a box of Kleenex, read that entry, and then come back.)

Riley is the child I never got to hold. I never got to cut the cord, hear the first cry. Riley is the child that I will never see first steps, hear first words, send to school, and all the other cherished experiences of childhood. Yet Riley, in 7 ½ short weeks of growth has given me more than I could imagine. Below are just some of what Riley has given to me.

A BIGGER HEART

I love my wife, I love my kids, and most of all I love the LORD with all I got. Just about anyone I’ve talked to in the last couple years knows how much I miss being in full-time ministry, because I felt like my work life was making an eternal difference. It’s still hard for me to see the eternal difference of selling a hammer, but God is still using this time to shape me. As I began to dream of what having a 4^th child to raise would be like, I knew I loved that precious one from the start. Every parent will tell you that with the advent of a new child, your heart grows with love for that little one. Love for our kids is not a finite thing. When a new life is given, suddenly, out of nowhere, love grows. You’re not taking love from those you have, but adding a whole new capacity to love a new life equally. Riley taught me that there is still room in my heart to love beyond what I thought.

A DEEPER LOVE

Many people are guilty of routine. We get up, go to work, come home, play, get the kids to bed, sit in the recliner trying to unplug, and go to bed, only to wake up the next day and do it all over again. It is easy to get caught up into the routine and pattern of life. The trouble is, at least for me, you can lose sight of the relationships that our central to that routine. I love my wife. She is incredible and through this whole season, I have been blown away by her heart and resiliency in the midst of this loss. But before that fated early morning heartbreak, the routine had set into our lives and marriage a little too deep. I had lost sight of some of the amazing qualities that this woman sleeping next to me exudes. Riley brought me to a deeper appreciation for Ashley, my wife. Part of what I believe God’s desire for Riley was to bring Ashley and I to a deeper level of intimacy in our marriage. Riley forced us to confront the sadness in this loss head-on, together. Through this process, our marriage has experienced a deeper love and I am so grateful to God for her and for the opportunity He has given us to grow even more intertwined in the love and respect He desire us to experience.

A WIDER COMMUNITY

Overall, the loss of a little one during pregnancy is a VERY COMMON experience. I believe on of the physicians said that 1 out of 4 pregnancies are lost, which might be on the high end of the statistics. But regardless of the actual percentage, it is an experience that is more common than I realized. In fact, I’d almost say that it is almost more rare to find a family that hasn’t been touched by a loss during pregnancy. Recognizing how common it is does not minimize the reality of the loss and the emotional, physical, and spiritual challenges that arise, but I am not the only dad that has had to walk this road. I am not the only one who has felt this way. I am not the only one who was unable to kiss his child. It has been amazing to me the community support that we have received. From the amazing efforts of our small group (I can’t say THANK YOU enough) to customers and vendors that I work with on a daily basis who have expressed their condolences and shared their experiences. I am so grateful to God for all of you who have reached out to us during this season.

A BRIGHTER OUTLOOK

Some have the tendency to sulk in sorrow in a season such as this. Though there has been a grieving process, which included the opportunity to lay Riley to rest, Riley has given me a hope for life. It is almost as if Riley is echoing the LORD’s words to his people in Jeremiah 29:11, “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future.”  The LORD does know what is in store for us and He is working for our good. Never has He said that the road before us is easy and pain free, but it is GOOD! I do not know what tomorrow holds, what He has written on the next page of our journey, but I know that He is who He said He is, and that He is not going to leave me or forsake me. This tragedy is not a punishment, but an opportunity to grow in my daily dependence on Him for everything in this life. So I have hope: Hope for my personal walk, Hope for my family, Hope for my wife—I have HOPE. The sunrise is a beautiful expression of the majesty of God at the start of everyday. I now have a sunrise before me. This next season is an opportunity to express the majesty of our God in every aspect of my life.

So there you go. I don’t claim to have it all figured out. There are still tears when I look at the spot where our dear Riley’s earthly body waits for His coming King.

As I look back at this last month, I recognize the depths of emotion we have experienced. But I am so excited for what’s next.

4 lives to raise may be in our future still, but I am so grateful that our 4^th child has taught me so much without ever saying a word. Your daddy loves you, Riley. Until we are both in the arms of our Daddy, xoxoxo.

Roller Coaster

First off, I want to thank everyone who has been reading this. Since my post last week, I've gotten so many messages and comments from people (some I don't even know) about how my story touched them. Some who could relate and had stories similar to mine, others who had no idea about the process and real facts of what miscarriage is like. I hope that I can continue to encourage other women to speak up about this. Its easy to feel alone in it all but I've found that when I speak up about my experience, more woman are comfortable with sharing their story. I've cried with lots of women this week who know what I'm going through. Its been incredible. I talked with a women this morning at church who told me that she lost FIVE babies. FIVE. I cannot even fathom. I cried with her and we remembered the truth that we will meet our children one day. I was amazed at her strength. She said that even now being that she's 50 years old, she still has hard days, thinking of what it would be like if all of her children were here. I was truly touched by her story.

I write this tonight, sitting in bed. The last place I really wanna be. I'm a little drugged up from my medicine that taking the edge off of the horrible cramps that just started today. I had false hope that I was feeling better, but today the pain has taken over. While emotionally I'm slowly healing, my body is healing as well.

After having what I assumed was a natural miscarriage, I soon learned that my body had not finished the job. On friday, I went back to see my midwife, feeling worse than I did while I was pregnant. The exhaustion was ridiculous, I couldn't see straight and the bleeding had yet to stop. I knew something wasn't right. So, upon further "inspection" we learned that I had yet to pass all of the placenta. My hemoglobin was down to 9, and I need a D&C. Lovely...
So, off to "same day surgery" I went. After 4 more needle pokes and more tears of frustration, I was put under a general anesthetic. 45 minutes later I woke up in recovery. Still exhausted, ready to go home and sleep in my bed. I woke up Saturday feeling pretty good, so I decided to attend a wedding shower at our church. Bad idea. Went back home and went to bed. I thought for sure I would pass out at the poor girl's wedding shower, thus putting unncessary attention on me.

Sunday morning (today) felt pretty good, popped 4 ibuprohen and chugged a couple cups of coffee and got to church. I thought I was dong better emotionally. I hadn't cried in a couple days and I thought I could keep it together. Naturally, the word had gotten out through our church's prayer chain, so I knew that lots of hugs and "I'm praying for you" would be coming my way. I thought I could handle it. Within 10 minutes of being there, I had a friend come give me a hug and extend her apologies and sympathy. Aaaannnnddd cue tears.... I was able to keep it together a little longer with more "I'm sorry's" and sympathetic hugs, but my body couldn't take much more. The dizziness returned, the cramping started, I needed to go home. So, I slept the rest of the day. The cramping is horrendous. I thought this would be over by now. I'm trying to rest knowing that monday is just a few hours away. The hardest part about resting for me is that I have to still listen to the organized chaos in my home. I so badly want to help with the kids, clean up around the house, play hide and seek, but it seems within minutes of trying, my body is angry and I need to get back into bed. My husband has been BEYOND INCREDIBLE. He is getting SO many 'brownie points' it isn't even funny. He has taken on the role of "stay at home dad" for the past few days and has done an amazing job! I'm so blessed to have a man that will step up and take charge. Dishes, laundry, meals, diapers, baths, he's doing it all. If I had a gold star, he'd get 10 of them.

As I look forward to this week, I'm excited about it. My mom and sister will be here Thursday, we will celebrate Brynna's 1st birthday on Saturday. I'm looking forward to having friends and family over to celebrate something happy this week, as most of my visitors last week were coming with sympathies. The inside of my house has been newly painted and decorated thanks to my awesome inlaws :) So I'm looking forward to showing it off! I'm praying my body will allow me to accomplish all I want to this week. Mostly just to get the kids up and out the door each morning, make meals, play on the floor with my kids and enjoy my family.

It been a roller coaster week, but I know that I am slowly healing. God has been SO good and present through this whole process and I know He will continue to be over the next few weeks and months.

Unexpected Expectations

How do I even begin this? There's so much to say yet I feel that if I let myself experience it again that the pain will soak deeper into my soul. And while I know that I need to, I fear for where it may take me.

I've heard that the greatest pain you could ever feel is when you lose a child. While some believe life begins at birth, I believe life begins at the moment the Lord allows a little life to start forming in the deepest parts of a mothers womb. Its sits, unknown yet to the world, or even it mother, but life is growing, quickly, precisely,intentionally, how God chooses that life to grow. And within days, a beating heart. The heart that would hold every hope I had in the world.

I know that a pregnancy loss isn't something that a lot of women go into detail about. It can be graphic, and scary, but I feel like I need to. So I will give discretion from here and tell you that if you don't enjoy the details, now is a good time to stop.



8 weeks ago, my world was rocked when I learned I was expecting our fourth child. While we had always talked about having another baby, my husband and I agreed that waiting a little while longer would be a benefit to us. I was okay with that and begin to look forward over the next year knowing another baby wouldn't been anytime soon. I was sad but okay with it. "But if you come to me in a week and tell me you are pregnant, I will be excited" were the words my husband uttered....fast forward one week later "honey, are you sitting down...."

Its amazing how a simple "postive sign" can turn your world upside down. After being told by my doctor that I probably wouldn't conceive until I was done breastfeeding, it never again crossed my mind that being a week "late" could actually be a pregnancy. But there it was....

It took me a few days to really process it. To fully understand that once again, I would experience the pains of pregnancy, the hardwork of labor, and the beautiful moments with a newborn. I was scared but SO excited. Within days we were discussing baby names, telling our 3yr old and looking forward to another season in our family.

The phrase "still small voice" comes to mind. I know I've read it in the bible or heard in a song, but I can say with a fact that that voice has been whispering since the moment I found out I was pregnant.

"you won't be able to meet this one, Ashley"

Over and over again I could hear this voice. I acknowledged it. I even told close friends and family that I felt like the Lord was preparing me. But I still felt hope that I would meet this little child, and that maybe that voice was my worry and not to listen to it. But the Lord's whispers soon became shouts. I continued to hear him, but ignore it. Around 6 weeks I started to bleed. An ER trip revealed that I had some internal bleeding, and the word miscarriage came up. Okay then...we prayed.

A week later, another ultrasound. Everything looked great, no blood, heathly beating heart. I was overjoyed. I could tell people. This WAS a baby and this baby had a purpose and would be in our family.
"you won't be able to meet this one, Ashley"

7 weeks 5 days....I told people, I made announcements. November 4th, 2 am, the whisper became a yell. I woke up to blood....lots of blood. I woke up Chris, and we left for the ER. I knew, but still had hope. We were lead to our "room." Chris says, "did you see who that was?" "No, who?" "The doctor on call, he's from our church, he's the husband of your friend. I think his name is Matt" "His wife is Carly?" "Yes, I think so"

Tears...okay God, you have this under control. Matt walks in. Eyes meet familiar faces. No introduction needed.

He talks options. I tell him that I just want to know. He pulls in ultrasound machine. silence...silence

"You can see it" thud, thud, thud, thud....its there. Beating heart. I cry. Thank you Jesus. Hopeful.
Wait...wait a little longer....

contractions....medicine.....sleep.....more blood....lets check again.....

Wheeled to ultrasound room.  I'm hopeful.

Darkeness. Quiet. Nothing. "Its gone, there's nothing there" I say. Chris and I lock eyes. His head drops.

Nurse wants to try again.

 I need to go to the bathroom. Still hopeful.

Oh, the blood...so, sooooo much blood. Clots the size of tennis balls. I sit on the toilet, covered blood as I yell for help. Nurse has left to get something. Chris comes in to hold me. Weeping, weeping, weeping.... I clean myself up, nurse comes in. "We don't need to continue" I tell her. I already know. She's silent as she takes me back to my room. Matt walks in. Eyes meet. "You saw?" "yeah..."

I cry some more... Less than hour ago, I saw and heard my baby. Little did I know that that would be our goodbye.

More and more blood. It never stops. I can't believe this little baby that I had so much love for and dreams for is now potentially floating in a toilet bowl. Its not being wrapped in a blanket. I'm not kissing his tiny cheeks or letting him nurse at my breast. There were no visitors to welcome our new life, there were no smiles, no siblings to meet. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

"Can I go home now?" Yes...come back if the bleeding doesn't stop.

We tell Isaiah the baby is in Heaven. He cries. My heart breaks. I can't do this.

The bleeding doesn't stop.

Back to ER. More needles.

Doctor wanted to look. okay fine. I'm exposed.

Forceps....suction....tears....

He asks for a cup from the nurse. She wraps the cup and leaves the room.

Its all done. The phrase "fetal stuff" makes me angry. That was NOT "stuff" that was a child whom just a few hours ago had a heartbeat, who is SO loved and who is apart of my family. I want my baby. I want him home with me. They bring me my baby. Floating in a cup. I don't recongnize my baby, but I know him. "We should name it" Riley...the name Chris had mentioned the night before as we sat in Barnes and Noble on date night, looking through baby names and looking through a book that had pictures of babies from conception to birth. I saw what my baby could look like, and now I saw what my baby actually looked like. This was not how I imagined taking my baby home.

I got home, exhausted. emotional. I needed to sleep. went to bed at 6:30pm

As some of you know, I recently became a birth doula. I help women physically and emotionally during labor and delivery. I have a client due any day.

I wake up at 11:30pm. I have a missed call. My client is in labor. 1:00am I arrive at the hospital. She labors all night, all day. I sleep for minutes at a time in a hard wooden chair or on the floor. I'm still bleeding, still having contractions. I try to ignore it.

Monday 6pm. I'm exhausted. No sleep. No baby. I call my husband who suggests its time to come home. I need to rest. I just lost a baby 12 hours ago. I'm fighting it. I need to be here. 7pm active labor starts. She's in pain. I'm with her through it all. 9pm she gets epidural. 5 centimeters. I'm fading fast. I can't do it anymore. She rests, I go home. She understands, thankfully. I'm disapointed. I really want to be there, but my body needs rest. 10:30 I'm in bed. sleep is good.

6am I wake up. Baby hasn't been born. Start our day. Kids to school. Vote. Go to Target. Feeling weak. More bleeding. I need to stop. I need go home. I can't keep pretending this isn't happening.

I'm finally acknowledging it all. My baby is gone. My plans and dreams are gone. My heart is broken. While I was at the hospital with my client, my husband told me that Isaiah had prayed to God and asked for Him to "put the baby back." How I wish the Lord would answer this little boy's prayer more than anything in the world. But I know He has a plan through this. I saw His hand through it all. I'm so thankful for it all. I'm thankful for the life that grew in my womb for a short time. I'm thankful that He prepared me. I'm thankful for the people that were with me through it. I'm thankful for my husband who never left my side, who held my hand, who held my body, who cried with me, who mourns with me. I'm thankful for all the people who have contacted me with thoughts, prayers and encouragement. I now fully understand who my true friends are. People who I never expected have stepped in with such amazing words, some with no words, some who just listen, some who hug, some who bring food. It all helps. My heart is still sad.

I feel comfort in knowing that so many people know what I'm going through. But mostly that the God and creator of the universe knows as well. He gave His son. He watched His one and only Son be beaten, tortured and left to hang on cross with nails in his hands and feet to die so that I could one day be with him. So that my children could be with Him. So that Riley could be with Him. That is the BEST gift I could recieve. Knowing that my precious child is being held, rocked and loved by the most incredible father of all time. That He loves Riley just as much and more than I do. I trust God more than anyone with my children. Riley belongs to Him. He always has. I have comfort in knowing that one day I WILL meet Riley. I will hold him and kiss him. But until then, he rests in the arms of the almighty father.

We will bury Riley. We will celebrate his life. We will mourn. We will continue. We will praise God. We will be thankful. We will cry. We will pray. We will love. We will be stronger.

I have no more to say....

2012 Recap

 

I've been playing around with a program on my computer so I put together a little recap from 2012. I would love to eventually do a video from each year. So, here's our year thus far.