Resources for Miscarriage

When I experienced my first loss in 2010, a gracious friend gave me a book to read. It was "Bittersweet" by Shauna Niequist. I don't know if she meant for me to keep it, or if she was just letting me borrow it. But I never returned it. I read over it, cried through it, underlined things and agonized with the author. Her experience in the book resonated with me, and in some odd sort of way, it helped.

The two losses I experienced after that also brought me back to that book. It has been a great resource in my grieving because of her transparency and because of her complete trust in God through her pain. When someone I know experiences that horrible hurt, I always recommend that book to them. It might not have the same impact on them as it did for me, but....maybe it will. I just know that I was blessed by a friend offering me something in my grief, and so I also want to be that blessing to others in that way.

Like this book, there are many great resources available for those experiencing the loss of a baby.

I simply want to share some of the resources that I am aware of, in the hopes that it might bring comfort or healing to someone else.

I haven't read all of these, but they were highly recommended to me. Feel free to add your own in the comments section. If anything  at all has helped you or impacted you as you or someone you know has dealt with loss, please share it.

Empty Arms: by Sherokee Ilse

This one offers support in the time of decisions and pressures.  It talks about returning to work, couple grief, your children, feeling guilt, future pregnancies, and loneliness.

What Was Lost: A Christian Journey through Miscarriage: by Elise Erikson Barrett
This is written by a Methodist Pastor from her own loss and insight of others.

I Never Held You: Miscarriage, Grief, Healing and Recovery: by Ellen DuBois
This one seems a little more secular but research based and compassion oriented.

Growing Through a Miscarriage

http://www.todayschristianwoman.com/articles/2013/november/growing-through-miscarriage.html?start=1

Scripture for Miscarriage

http://www.betterthaneden.com/2014/01/scriptures-for-miscarriage.html

Songs for Miscarriage

http://www.betterthaneden.com/2015/02/songs-for-miscarriage.html

Actually, this whole page from the blog Better Than Eden is pretty good and helpful:

http://www.betterthaneden.com/p/pregnancy-loss.html

Bittersweet: by Shauna Niequist

This one isn't necessarily about miscarriage specifically. But she does share her story and it was just one of those books that really resonated with me during those times.

A Story Worth Sharing

I was standing in our bedroom closet with my mom, trying to organize the piles of stuff and unopened boxes. Whenever we move there is always a room or an area that becomes our ‘catch all’- the place where we put everything we’re not sure where it should go yet. That was our closet.

My mom knew exactly what she was doing and got to work hanging clothes and putting things in their proper places, casually asking where this or that might need to go. Maternity clothes?  It was simple. It was innocent. I grabbed a bag and shoved my maternity clothes into it. I tried to not think, just do. I tried to not care and told myself it’s just a task. Do the task. But my heart…it wouldn’t let me. It was reminding me that I should be wearing these clothes, not packing them away.

And there it was, the familiar feeling of tears filling my eyes and a deep deep ache. I was thankful for the baby’s cries at that moment, because it allowed me to stow away in her room while I fed her. And cried.

It’s these kinds of moments that just sucker punch you when you’re trying so hard to carry on. When you’re finally feeling somewhat normal again. When you’re not thinking about it constantly anymore.

These moments that just rip you to shreds, shatter your mending heart, make you cringe on the inside.

When a stranger sees you with your three kids and asks if you’re going to have another. When your  three year old touches your belly and asks if there’s a baby in there. When your husband comments on how great you look, that you have lost weight.

It’s innocent. But it still hurts so deeply.

These things get to me. They linger in my mind, they creep around my heart. When I can finally steal away a moment to myself it all comes flooding out. We were going to have another, yes. No my love, there is no baby in there. I should not be losing weight and getting thinner. My belly should be growing with life.

I cry out to God again. No Lord, this is not what I wanted. This shouldn’t have happened. I wanted THAT baby.

Somehow, as I’m anguishing again and reliving again this horrible nightmare, I feel the Lord’s peace wash over. I know that He’s telling me it’s not the end. I know that.

From the beginning of this tragedy I have felt God whispering to me that this is bigger than me, that He’s using this for others, that He’s bringing about His good. At first I felt very selfish, angrily stating that No, this was my baby and my loss and I wasn’t going to share it with anyone. I wanted this to be my story, to cling to devastation and to carry the burden of hurt. But gently and compassionately, as only God can, He nudged me along and gave me glimpses of how my story might impact the lives of others. He showed me how being open and vulnerable would speak to women going through the same thing, with women experiencing loss or the inability to conceive. 

But He’s also shown me that this story is not about losing a baby and it’s not just for those that have been in my shoes. It’s for everyone with a story to tell. Everyone needs to share their heartache and their burdens, they need to be open and vulnerable. For two reasons. One, it plays a huge part in your own healing process. When we share our story we validate our struggles and our hurts and our pain. We are able to release it and that takes away the burden of carrying it all by yourself. It doesn’t necessarily make it hurt any less, but there is a comfort in knowing that others are grieving with you and that others are sharing in your pain and that they are there for you.

And secondly, your story will resonate with others. Who is to say that someone else isn’t going through the same exact thing that you are and they need to hear that they are not alone. It may sound totally weird, but when I went through my miscarriage, there was comfort in other women sharing that they had also lost precious babies. Why? Because I could see that they came out of it, that they were able to move beyond the gripping pain and the overpowering darkness of despair. It’s not to say that they didn’t still feel that ache. I know that they still hurt. But they were able to comfort me and assure me that the overwhelming pain will begin to subside.

Sharing our story is important. It’s essential.

I have talked to a handful of people over the past 2 months who have thanked me for sharing my experience and for being transparent in my pain. This story has impacted lives.

My guess is that your story will impact lives as well. Whatever your story is, it needs to be told. Whatever you are holding on to, it needs to be shared.

When Joy Doesn't Come in the Morning

The morning after my miscarriage I woke up with a throbbing headache and puffy eyes. It’s what I like to call a sobbing hangover. I cried hard the night before. It just poured out of me and I was hardly able to contain it. Eventually I fell asleep, but my dreams were all things pregnancy and miscarriage related and so my sleep was very disturbed.

When I woke up with my sobbing hangover I wondered where my joy was. After all, the Bible says in Psalm 30:5 that “weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning”. I certainly felt no joy. I felt pain. Intense and radiating pain. The hurt was so intense that I wondered if my own heart my just give. I contemplated staying in bed for the rest of the day, but my three tiny blessings were already awake and demanding to get out of their beds. So I got my weary body and soul up out of bed and greeted those beauties with lots of love and kisses.

Throughout the day I would retreat to the bathroom or my bedroom and just cry. It was hard, so very hard to go through the normal routine of the day when I felt anything but normal. It was ridiculous to think that I could go on like this when I had already planned so much. I had hopes and excitement for what was to be. We knew that after this fourth baby our family would be complete. We were already throwing around different names. I contemplated what it would be like to have two kids each in two bedrooms, what it would be like to have four under four for a time, and how I would fit four car seats in our minivan. I was excited about the way we were going to announce this fourth and final Kemp.

All of these things stirred in my heart, rattled in my mind and just left me feeling sick to my stomach. And I wondered again about this joy thing.

I felt bitterness creeping into my heart. I felt that nagging thought far off in the back of my mind blaming God for this one, wondering where He had run off to, questioning why He wasn’t right here with me taking away this heartache and giving me the joy that He had promised. I felt myself slipping down a familiar road of shunning the Lord that has blessed my life so abundantly, pushing my Savior aside just because I was hurting so badly. I wanted someone to blame. I wanted someone to be angry at.

After the kids went to bed I knew I needed to just have some quiet time. Again with the sobbing. But this time I just cried out to the Lord. I told Him how hurt I was, I told Him that I had prayed for this baby, prayed that she would be okay, prayed for a miracle. I told him how angry I was, how I felt betrayed, how it seemed like He didn’t care. I told Him the longings of my heart, how I just knew we were to have 4 kids and how it doesn’t make sense that this baby was taken away from us. I told him all of the dreams that I had for our family, and I told him all of the fears that I now have for the future. I poured out my heart to Him.

Somehow, through all of that verbal vomit I unleashed on God, I came to the realization that joy has nothing to do with my own circumstances. That’s happiness. Being joyful and being happy are not the same thing. Suddenly verses about being joyful in suffering were coming back to me. At first it made me angry and I felt like yelling at God that this was ridiculous and it wasn’t fair, and who considers it joyful to suffer.

But I realized that every disciple in the Bible considered it joyful to suffer. Even Jesus himself found joy in suffering.

“For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning it's shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God". -Hebrews 12:2 

^“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything". James 1:2-4

“Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us”. -Romans 5:3-5 

And it struck me, it’s not suffering for sufferings sake that produces joy. Christians aren’t so weird that they get a kick out of tragedy and heartache and sorrow. We don’t just wait for the days that something horrible will happen so we can rejoice that suffering has occurred.

It’s what suffering produces that ultimately brings joy. Romans 5:3-5 says that suffering produces perseverance, perseverance produces character and character produces hope. And the hope that we have in Christ does not disappoint us.

And you know what, it’s true. It took me a few weeks to mull over all of this, but it makes sense. From my own personal experience, I can see that suffering does this. It doesn’t take away from the pain. The pain is still there. The pain is very real. But eventually, over time, it produces something amazing. If we let it.
Christians are obviously not except from pain and suffering simply because we are followers of Christ. In fact, the Bible is clear that the opposite is true. Pain and suffering will be our shadows, following us around wherever we are spreading the Gospel. This health and wealth gospel that people are preaching is a clear contradiction to Scripture. Just read it, you will see how the Old and New Testament is full of individuals, families and nations suffering for the sake of the Gospel.

I know that I have so much more to learn about this. I don’t have all the answers. I have barely scratched the surface. But what I have learned is this:

• Joy doesn’t always come in the morning- at least not in our normal sense of what the morning is. The ‘morning’ could be days, weeks or even months down the road. But ultimately, joy will come again.
• Joy comes in the mourning. It doesn’t make sense, but there it is. Joy does come through mourning. It comes out of mourning. For me personally, when I am mourning the loss of a baby I find great joy in the babies that I did get to have. When I am mourning it makes my blessings in life all the more visible, all the richer.
• My own suffering allows me to share in the suffering of others. It hurt so bad to lose those 3 babies. The ache never goes away. And when someone else experiences this pain, I know full well what they are going through. There is comfort in knowing that someone else has gone through your pain and didn’t collapse under it. I hate that I went through this, but now I have a shared story with others going through it. I can relate. I can empathize. I can be there to comfort and cry with and mourn with.
• God is not the enemy. All too often, my first instinct is to raise my fists and demand answers from God. I’m quick to blame Him for the wrongs that have happened to me because I know that He is all-mighty and all-powerful and is still a God of miracles, AND things still went tragically wrong in my life. So I immediately begin with “but you COULD have done this”. As I was praying through this the other night, the song “I am” by Ginny Owens popped into my head (Holy Spirit, anyone?).

Here are a few of the lyrics:

There's a bigger picture, you can't see
You don't have to change the world, just trust in me
Cause I am your creator, I am working out my plan
And through you, I will show them, I am.

I hadn’t heard that song in years! But in that moment I knew that God had/has something much bigger in store for all of this tragedy. I still can’t see it, but it’s there and it will be revealed at some point. I just need to trust in Him. I still don’t understand how all of it works, but I know that God is working this out.

A Hurt that Never Heals

After waiting an hour and a half in the packed waiting room, I was finally called back to have my ‘dating scan’; the fun ultrasound that will tell me when my baby is due. I already knew how far along I was. I always seem to know exactly when I get pregnant. I was 11 weeks already and so excited to be so close to the second trimester. We had already told our families and most of our close friends. After this ultrasound I was going to make a general announcement, ya know, because having a baby is super exciting and I couldn’t wait to share the news.

I was a little bit giddy with anticipation as the ultrasound tech put that cold goo and magic baby seeing wand on my belly and looked intently at the screen. I swear, I cry over all things baby when I'm pregnant. Seeing that tiny little human wiggling on the monitor chokes me up every single time. Hearing the heartbeat of a new creation always brings tears to my eyes. I love it!

“Can you get the doctor” he casually said to the other tech in the room. My heart skipped a beat. And in that moment I knew. I just knew.

He didn't say a word to me. Just waited quietly for the doctor to come in, all the while still staring at the screen. Still moving that wand around on my belly.

The doctor came in. She said “hi Sarah”, but I couldn’t say anything. I stared at her as she stared at the screen, hoping, aching for a facial reaction that would allow me to breathe again. Nothing.

The ultrasound tech was saying something. Numbers, I think. The doctor asked if I understood what he said. I shook my head no.

“The baby doesn’t have a heartbeat.”

And there it was. Another fear came true in that moment. Another baby gone. I sobbed right there on that stupidly uncomfortable exam table, with my shirt still up and that goo smeared on my belly. I tried hard to maintain composure, but the breaking of my own heart gave way to uncontrollable sobbing, and I wondered if I’d ever regain control of my tears again.

“You can come talk to me in my office”. And with that the doctor left the room. The lights came back on, the other tech wiped up my belly and helped me up off the table. I met with the doctor and heard all of the same things I had heard twice already; these things happen. Chromosomal abnormality. Nothing you did. It’s common, but having one doesn’t mean you’ll have another.

Yes, thank you doctor. I know. But somehow that’s just not true. I wanted to yell at her. Stop giving me the “it’s okay, you’ll go on to have a healthy pregnancy” spiel.  I’d heard it all before. This was the third time I had sat in a room like this and listened to a doctor tell me she’s sorry for my loss and I can try again if I want to.  This was the third time my joy was shattered by immense sorrow in one instant. This was the third time that I found myself unable to breathe, holding in the sobs that were sure to come again as soon as I was alone.  This was the third time I had to say goodbye before I ever even got to say hello.

I walked quickly to my van and just sat there and sobbed. I could hardly regain control. It hurt so bad. The pain was so intense I wondered if my heart would literally break apart.

Suddenly my phone was vibrating. Phil was texting me, asking me about my appointment and when I would be home. He was watching the trio. I had gone to the doctor alone because it somehow just made sense at the time. But now…now it seemed like a terrible idea. I had to tell him.

I called him and barely got out “the baby doesn’t have a heartbeat” before I started sobbing again.

As soon as I got home Phil wrapped his arms tightly around me. It was comforting in a weird sort of way knowing that I wasn’t suffering alone. He was in this with me. He hurt too. This was OUR baby. And then Jaelyn broke my moment of comfort by excitedly asking if I had a picture of the baby. If my heart wasn’t already shattered, it was in that moment. A simple question by an innocent girl, but it tore me to shreds.

This pregnancy was so different than my 2 previous losses. For one, I was 11 weeks (or should have been 11 weeks. The baby’s heart stopped beating at 10 weeks) along with this one and I really thought I was in the safe zone. My two previous miscarriages both happened at week 7. Both of them began with cramping and shortly after bleeding. There was no doubt what was happening.

This pregnancy was different. Around week 8 I started spotting. No cramps, no real bleeding. I had my first appointment on September 10^th (11 days before my dating scan) and the doctor did a quick ultrasound just to check viability after I told him I was nervous because I was spotting and I had two previous losses. We saw the baby moving. We saw the heartbeat. The doctor said everything was fine.  

Everything was not fine. Two days after my life-altering ultrasound, Phil and I went to the ER to be told we were miscarrying. Obviously we already knew what was happening, but it gave me peace of mind knowing that the ultrasound in the ER showed nothing in my womb, and it gave peace of mind knowing…and seeing…the baby pass out of me.

Sometimes in my grief I try to hold on to a false hope. The hope that the doctor was wrong, the hope that maybe there were two and one is still alive, the hope that maybe the baby’s heart just started beating again. These things went through my mind and I desperately want to hold on to them and believe that they are true. But it’s false. And it hurts more because I’m not able to grieve properly. I’m not able to say goodbye when I should.

But seeing with my own eyes that the baby was not in my womb…well it hurt like nothing else in the world! But it also gave me the peace of mind to be able to grieve and to be able to say goodbye to that precious little one.

After everything was said and done that night I just felt so empty. Like, a physical emptiness. It’s hard to explain. My womb just felt empty. It hurts so bad! After giving birth to a healthy baby, there is a joy and there is awe and there is accomplishment that comes with that empty womb feeling. Your body did it! You grew a human, you nourished and sheltered and cared for a little bitty person inside of your body, and then you pushed it out of your body and you delivered it safely into the world. That empty womb feeling is a joyous occasion. But this…this feeling is not right. It’s not okay. There was no accomplishment, no joy, no awe. It’s empty when it should be full. It’s still when it should be growing. It hurts for all the wrong reasons.

There isn’t one day that goes by that I don’t think about what could have been, who could have been. There isn’t one day that I don’t cry for the baby I never got a chance to hold. But the hope that I hold on to is that one day I WILL get to hold that baby (and the other two babies I lost way too soon). One day my heart will start to mend. One day it won’t hurt as badly. And I can say that because I have experienced it. I hold on to the hope that I have seen in my own life, the hope that I have experienced before. 

I still mourn the baby I lost on November 26, 2010 and I still mourn the baby I lost on November 3, 2012. And it still hurts. I don’t believe those hurts will ever heal. Not completely. It becomes more and more bearable until it reaches the point of becoming a familiar ache. But it’s not overpowering anymore. And brighter days did come. It took a long time, as it probably should. But it did come. And so I know that those brighter days will come again. But in the meantime, it hurts.

It’s a hurt that will never heal.

Potty Training Take Two: Boy Edition

Let’s just be honest here. Nobody is thrilled to begin potty training. You may be excited at first about the prospects of no more diapers, and you may eagerly shop for those big kid undies and a brand new toddler potty chair.

But that first day….it’s dreadful. And that first day you kick yourself and wonder why you even attempted this stupid thing in the first place. Diapers aren’t that bad, right? 2 in diapers is manageable, isn’t it?!

But alas, you already started and in order to avoid really messing with your poor child (who up until this morning was perfectly content using a diaper), you push on.

And hopefully….hopefully soon your little one will catch on and grasp the concept that pee pee and poo poo now goes in the potty.

My first time around was a piece of cake. Like…literally, in the amount of time I ate a piece of cake Jaelyn was potty trained. Okay, that’s a bit dramatic. But just a bit. It took a weekend. It was easy and I was so impressed by her. She was, after all, only 19 months.

This time, however, I was less optimistic. I cannot tell you the number of people who told me that potty training boys was a LOT harder than it was with girls. And I witnessed it first hand through friends and family, so I knew it wasn’t just what people said. It was legit. Potty training a boy seemed like it was a much bigger task than a girl.

I was planning on putting it off as long as possible, when suddenly Phil was like “let’s potty train him today!”. What?! Potty train him today? What does that mean? You can’t just suddenly start potty training! I need to do research. Gobs and gobs of research. I need techniques and ideas and ways to bribe him to put his pee pee in the potty. I need a sticker chart. I need a treat for him. I need to go shopping for big boy undies. I need to talk to him about all of this for a week or two before we even begin. How dare I just suddenly spring this on him! Start potty training him today?! Nonsense!

But I took his lead and waited until Sunday after nap because I knew that I wouldn’t have anywhere to go for several days.

I bought big boy undies and m&m’s and talked up the whole thing to him the entire weekend. I did my gobs of research, but in the end I decided we would just take a very casual approach to it. Mostly for my own benefit. Having a baby makes it especially difficult to be attentive to pee and poop signals from a toddler all day long. By casual I mean we weren't over zealous to get him to use the potty. If he did, he did. If not, I really didn't care. I was just going to let him go at his own pace.

I reminded myself that this was Pax’s achievement, not mine, and whatever progress he did or did not make, I wasn’t going to be frustrated or annoyed.

Day 1 (after naptime): Explained what we were doing. I showed him the new little potty seat and we set up in the living room. I didn’t do anything extra like fill him up with drinks (he drinks a ton on his own anyway). We just did our normal routine, sans diaper for the little guy. We waited (or I waited) for something to happen. For me, that first pee is the most important. I wanted him to start going so that I could quickly let him know that that was pee pee and it now goes in this cool little potty over here.

He was super interested in the potty. And by interested, I mean he wanted to stand on it and jump off. He didn’t want to sit on it.

That first day we had many accidents on the floor. And I had to remind myself that it was just day one and that this was all part of it. But who likes to clean up pee off the floor?!

Day 2: Woke up and immediately took off diaper and tried to sit on the potty. Again, he doesn’t like sitting on it. He just wants to play with it.

We have zero success on this day. No pee pee in the potty, but LOTS on the floor.

Days 3: We ditch the little potty. He won’t sit on it to go. Oddly, the big potty is appealing to him (perhaps because everyone else in the house uses it). I know that he has to go, so I sit him on the potty and turn on the water in the bathtub. He thinks its funny and IT DOES THE TRICK! The kid pees in the potty!!

We go overboard on the praise and the excitement, even getting Jaelyn involved. Then we bring out the m&m’s! Pax gets one and so does Jaelyn. This makes the excitement level go through the roof and Jaelyn is now totally on board with helping Pax go pee pee on the potty.

Days 4-6: Much of the same. He knows when he has to go and it’s now a matter of getting to the potty before he pees. When he does, everyone is excited and clapping for joy (the kids are basically excited for an m&m). Pax had his first poop on the potty and it was quite the amazing ordeal! 3 m&m’s for that one!

He’s hooked! He loves it (or does he love the candy?!)

By this time I've ditched my causal approach. He's gotten the hang of it, he knows what's going on and so we press on full force. I'm consistently watching for pee/poop signals (though I do miss some because...well, having an infant makes things a tad more difficult), and we're making every effort to get to the potty in time.

Day 7: It’s Sunday and so we head to church. I decide this will be our first experience out with no diaper. Sorry nursery staff, you’re part of our experiment this morning!

I take him potty before we send the kids into the nursery. No go. Now I’m feeling nervous. But, we press on. I tell the sweet ladies that he is potty training (I get that quizzical look because he’s still one at this point), and that he’s not wearing a diaper. And I smile real big. Because that helps, right?

After service I come back to find that he has not had an accident! He didn’t go for them, but he also didn’t pee his pants. I whisk him to the bathroom and he goes for me!

First day of zero accidents!

(That is m&m drool running down his chin...)

It’s been over a month now and I can honestly and happily say that Pax is potty trained. He knows when he has to go and will just go to the bathroom on his own (although, we have to be on the look out for that because if left to his own devices he will play in the toilet…). He goes pee and poop in the big potty. In fact, he has abandoned the potty seat that goes on top of the big seat and will now only go on the big seat. Which is quite comical.

We no longer give m&m’s for going- mostly because we ran out one day and never got anymore. The kids were upset for about 3 seconds and then quickly forgot about it. Pax still asks for m&m’s on occasion, but still continues to go without getting that reward.

The First time we were out of m&m's. Mean mugging mommy.

Here are my tips for potty training (a boy or a girl):

-       Be consistent: Once you start, don’t stop. There are days that it’s going to get super annoying and frustrating. There are times when you will just really want your kid to be in a diaper out of convenience (like when you leave the house). Just grit your teeth and remind yourself that it won’t last forever. The more consistent you are, the quicker it will be.

-       Relax and have fun: Honestly, if you’re relaxed about the whole thing, so will your kid. Make it fun for him. Be excited. When you’re kid starts to pee on the floor, quickly pick him up and take him to the potty all the while saying something like “Good job, that’s pee pee! Pee pee goes in the potty now!”. Don’t scold for peeing on the floor. Always be excited, even if your kid doesn’t make it to the toilet for awhile (this goes back to consistency. Every time pick your kid up and take him to the potty as he’s peeing. Praise him for going. Remind him it goes in the potty now. Always. Every time.)

-       Use what your kid loves: Jaelyn has always been a t.v. head. It worked well to plant her in front of the t.v. for a weekend, with the potty seat in the living room. Pax does not watch t.v. He loves snacks. It worked well to bribe him with m&m’s.

-       Get your older kids involved: Obviously if it’s your first kid, you can’t get an older sibling involved. If you do, use that to your advantage! Jaelyn was excited to get Pax to use the potty and to cheer for him when he did go because she also got something in return. Older siblings are priceless.

-       Get some good carpet cleaner J

-       Remember that this is not YOUR achievement. It’s your kids. Don’t grow frustrated when he doesn’t go on the potty. It takes time, but it WILL happen. Again…be consistent. Make it fun. And when you DO grow frustrated, because you probably will, don’t let your kid see that. Whip out your key phrase and plant that smile on your face “Good job, that’s pee pee! Pee pee goes in the potty now!”.

And now…here are a few more resources for your perusal!

12 Potty Training Tips for the Confused Mom

You Know You're in the Throes of Potty Training When...

Does it ever get easier?

The past few weeks I have found that I’ve been pretty sad. Just a general feeling of being “bummed out”. I couldn’t really pinpoint it, but I knew that I wasn’t myself. And one evening as I was washing the dishes with tears brimming in my eyes I looked around at my half-packed kitchen and pink and purple streamers still hanging from Jaelyn’s 3^rd birthday and I just sighed.

Yep, it was that time again. The time when we pack up our belongings and say goodbye to another home with fond memories. A home where we brought our 3^rd baby after her traumatic entrance into this world, a home where Pax became a big brother, where the kids had their first swimming pool and Phil had to mow the lawn. A home. One of many. But one with memories of beginnings, of new things and fond moments.

It’s a home that we are leaving. Another place to say goodbye to.

It was this moment that made me sigh because I realized why I had been feeling so bummed out. This is hard. Really really hard. I thought it would get easier. I hoped that it would not always be difficult. But packing up and saying goodbye just never gets easier.

Leaving family and friends and amazing relationships with loved ones never gets easier.

I’ve gotten better at packing. I’ve learned to pack the things we aren’t using daily first. I’ve figured out to pack things room by room, to label the boxes specifically. I learned to start packing a few months before the big move and to get rid of things you haven’t used in awhile or don’t want anymore. I’ve started leaving out 2 weeks’ worth of clothes for each person, so that I can pack up all the clothes (which makes it a lot easier when washing and sorting!), and I’ve gotten really good at only leaving out one bowl, plate, cup and silver ware for each person so that everything else can be packed. I’ve also  gotten really good at sorting what is going into storage and what is continuing this journey with us. After our many many many moves, I’ve got the whole packing thing down.

But that doesn’t matter. I wish I wasn’t good at packing. I wish I didn’t know what it was like to have to move away again. I wish I didn’t know what it was like to say goodbye to people that I just want to spend my life living with and growing with together.

So no, it doesn’t get easier. It’s been really great living in this area for these past several months and rekindling relationships and spending time with family. And now we get to leave them all again.

Granted, this is the life we said Yes to when we heard God’s call on our lives. This is the life we love as we get to travel and meet new people and share the Gospel with those that have not yet heard. This is the life we believe will benefit our kids as they are able to see firsthand the needs in this world and how God is leading them to help. This is our life. We love it. We really do. But sometimes it’s hard. This part of it is just really hard.

Gleaning a Lesson from Difficulty

When we returned from France we were uncertain about what lay ahead. Phillip was adamant that we would go back to language school by the summer. I did not share in his zeal. In fact, going back to France was the very last thing I wanted to do.

It was a difficult journey in France. I’m not going to sugar coat anything. I had a hard time. I was depressed. Like, legit depressed. It was something I had never experienced before and it was something I hope to never go through again.

I know a lot of it was culture shock and a lot of it was pregnancy hormones. But it was also more than that. I’ve experienced culture shock before and I’ve experienced pregnancy hormones before. Neither amounted to the level of depression that I felt while in France. I cried. A lot. And not just over boxed milk!

I didn’t understand it then and I don’t understand it now. Was I just not strong enough? Did I not pray enough? What was I doing wrong? Maybe I wasn’t giving everything to God. Maybe I just wasn’t spiritual enough to be a missionary?

In any case, when we realized that we were still falling short in the financial area month after month and that we were actually in debt to the school, I can’t say that I was upset that we might have to leave the field. I thought going home was the answer. I thought that leaving France and being back around family and friends would change everything.

We prayed for the money to come in so that we might stay and continue language learning. And the money did come in! We received the exact amount to pay off the school and buy plane tickets home. Not a penny more!

So we packed up our things, said goodbye to our new friends and made our way back to the States. And while things did change for me, it wasn’t in the way that I had expected. The depression just sort of melted away. I can’t explain it. It was suddenly like I was my old self again. Perhaps it was more to do with culture shock than I had thought? But over the course of a few months, I began to see that what I thought I was missing out on back home really wasn’t there. The strange thing about moving away and coming back is you realize that everyone else keeps on living their lives. Yes, it’s true! Their lives don’t just stop because you leave. While I obviously know that people continue living in my absence, it was a real eye opener.

I don’t know…I think sometimes God uses little things like that to show us that all we really need is Him. If we hadn’t come back, I would have still believed that being back home would make everything better. That the community we had was what I really needed. But the truth is that while the community and family we have here is amazing and great and all that, it’s not everything. It’s actually not what I had even hoped it would be upon our return. And that realization struck me like a ton of bricks. But in a good way. Because now I feel like I can leave again and it will be okay. I will be okay and my family will be okay.

That’s not to say that I don’t need the people around me. I do need them. I desperately need them. But I don’t need them in the way that I thought I did. And I don’t need them like I need God.

I know that the whole France situation wasn’t just God proving to me that all I need is Him. I know that there is more to it than a mere lesson for me. God works in all kinds of ways for various reasons. But one of the many many lessons I have gleaned from this whole experience is that. A hard lesson, to be sure. But it was one I urgently needed to learn.

I am ready now, truly ready, to give my life to what God has called us to do. I was fighting it for a long time- whining about leaving friends and family, grumbling about doing this so far away from home, complaining to God that I needed a support system. After all, I was dealing with 3 small kids. Of COURSE I need a support system! But God’s right. All I need is Him. He will provide everything.

And this great big lesson came at just the right time, because of this unexpected path that God is leading us on!

An Unexpected Path

You should have seen us when we returned from France early. Maybe you did. But what you probably didn’t see was the raw emotion we were feeling and expressing to one another. Phillip and I were in a weird place. For one thing, we weren’t in agreement on what our plans for the future were.

Phillip wanted to jump right back in and start support raising. He wanted to get back to France and finish what we started. He was eager and adamant.

I just wanted to recoup from the whirl-wind of packing up and making another international move. I just wanted to take a break and rest my 9 month pregnant body. I didn’t want to think about anything ministry related until after this baby was born. I was worn out, depleted, frustrated and confused.

After miss Eliza made her dramatic debut into our lives, I was very thankful that we were back home. Having dealt with major depression while in France, I feel certain that the situation surrounding her birth would not have been good for me, emotionally.

Once the baby came though, it was time to figure some things out. While still not really on the same page, Phillip and I were sincere in our trust in the Lord. So we determined that we would just pray about it. Wherever God led us, whatever He had in store for us, that is what we would pursue.

We contemplated different scenarios, one of which was to start our own ministry here and do overseas missions later on down the road. We prayed through all of these ideas and then talked with some folks at Pioneer Bible Translators. We told them our thoughts, our struggles and that we really were just uncertain. So lost. We felt so lost. I think they could see that our spirits were in distress and that were just at a loss of what to do next. We told them what kind of ministry we were interested in, the things we felt called to do, what we felt like God had gifted us in. They talked with us through all of this, prayed with us and said that together we would figure out what to do.

One of the suggestions was that Phillip and I move to the DFW area (where PBT is located) and get plugged in somewhere doing something. Nothing specific. Just come and find something. In this way, we would still be connected with PBT and still be involved in ministry while we figured out what to do next. I liked that idea. I really love Texas, so the thought of moving back was very appealing.

What we didn’t like was the unknown. And what would we tell supporters? “Hey guys…uh, we’re going to move and we’re not really sure what we’re going to be doing or for how long, but could you keep sending us your hard earned money? I’m sure eventually we’ll figure it all out and it will totally be worth it!”

Maybe. But when it comes to people who are sacrificing their own income to support people and work that they believe in, I really want to show them that we are serious about missions and ministry and that we are trying our darndest to follow the Lord’s leading.

The very next day we got an email from someone with PBT exclaiming that he had an amazing opportunity he wanted to share with us.

He said he was talking with a mission’s director at a local church and sharing stories about various missionaries (without naming names). He told the man our story and immediately the missions director asked “Are you talking about Phillip and Sarah Kemp?!”

It turns out that this mission’s director is the man that married us 5 years ago! He was our professor at Lincoln Christian University, he did our premarital counseling and he was always that person that gave tough love. He told it like it was, but in a kind way (though I’m sure he would say he wasn’t kind). Not only did he know who we were, but he had an amazing opportunity for us. A chance to do the type of ministry we would have done in West Africa (though slightly different in some ways), but in the States and right now.

So we flew to Texas to talk more about the ministry and plan things out, all the while praying praying praying that if this is what God wanted us to do He would make it so obvious. So very clear to the BOTH of us. It was a great trip! Hospitality galore! And talking about this new ministry to refugees and immigrants really got us excited. Like…on fire excited! So excited that we wanted to just go home and pack everything up and move right away! Okay…the impulsive desire to just do it right away was all me. Phil was more clear headed about the whole thing. But still…excited!!!

And while we won’t have all of the information about specifics until we get there and start talking with key people, we do know that we will be working with refugees and immigrants coming into the DFW area. It is an amazing opportunity to work with some of the least reached and Bible-less people groups right here in our own country. We will get to work alongside families that are just entering America, people that are probably feeling a bit of culture shock, are overwhelmed, maybe scared and definitely vulnerable.

The interesting thing is that Phillip and I know what that feels like. While we didn’t move to France from a war torn country, or escaping religious persecution, we did move to another country not knowing the language or the culture or how to do simple things. We can empathize to a degree.

We are just so excited and ready to begin this brand new chapter in our lives and in our ministry. Certainly we never expected to be back in Texas, and definitely not at the time we would otherwise have been heading to West Africa. It’s weird to think back on this last year and see how God has brought us full circle. This time last year we were preparing to leave Texas and head overseas. Now we are preparing to move back to Texas and begin a ministry there.

This path is definitely different and not what we had planned for, but our trajectory has not changed.  We still have our eyes set on going to West Africa.  This new opportunity, although entirely unexpected, has the potential to give us far more tools to be successful in Africa than we could have ever imagined gaining.

It’s been a really weird, adventurous, exciting, and confusing journey. But we know that God is leading us. We know that He is in control and He’s paved the way. So we’ll venture down this unexpected path knowing full well that it won’t be at all what we expect!

Great Things about having 3 under 3

I am the proud mommy of 3 little kiddos- a 2 year old, 1 year old and a 3 month old. It’s crazy! But it’s also so much fun.

Here are some of the great things about having babies so close together:

1.    There’s never a dull moment: Like….literally. There’s always something going on. Whether it’s mass hysteria, or the kids are playing nicely together, there is never a dull moment. Our house is alive with toddlers yelling and learning to say new words, diapers being changed, tantrums being thrown, toys being played with, babies crying, kisses being given and an endless supply of little giggles. Never a dull moment.

2.    You are already knee-deep in all things baby, so it’s not really that much more challenging to add another kid or two to the mix. Diaper changes? Already happening, no big deal. Tantrum throwing? A daily occurrence anyway, why not add more! Sleepless nights? Hey, what’s a few more kids keeping you up at night!

3.    You get great use out of the baby gear and clothes you have! We have only had to buy a few new things since our first was born. If you are doing cloth diapers, it’s well worth the investment for sure! Anytime my oldest needs new clothes I really don’t mind doling out the money because I know that her sister will be able to wear it not too long after!

4.    They always have a friend: My goal is for my kids to always be close- to treat each other with love and kindness and to be really great friends. And as the two toddlers have gotten a little older, they have become such great friends already. They love each other and they love to interact. Of course, they are not always nice to each other and sharing isn’t something they always choose to do. But they are learning. And it’s so much fun watching them play together.

They seriously always want to be together 

(for better or worse, but always together)!

5.    Predictable Nights: I am a homebody. So is my hubby. We haven’t always been this way, but slowly we have grown fond of spending a quiet evening at home. Because we have three little bits, we are afforded that luxury night after night. The kids go to bed at 7pm and we know that the next few hours are ours. It’s really quite great.

6. Always an excuse: Not that we ever want to get out of doing things (uh hem)....but if we did, it's a very valid excuse to say we have little kids that need us. Sorry, not tonight. Maybe in 5 years?

7.    Afternoon quiet/nap time: My kids are young enough that they still take afternoon naps. It’s a glorious 2-3 hours of quiet time that I have most days to relax, nap if I want to, or get things done. It’s my time, and with 3 very needy individuals vying for my attention all day long, it’s a much needed time!

8.    People come to us: Most people are aware of the struggle of taking 2 toddlers and a baby out of the house. And if they aren’t, well one visit with us and they will be! And while I do enjoy getting out of the house sometimes with the kids, it’s really nice that most people will insist on coming to MY house to visit. Of course, this may be because they can make a quick escape if things get to crazy, or maybe they aren’t interested in cleaning up the mess that the kiddos are likely to make. But regardless, I’m grateful that people choose to come to us since it’s always a struggle to leave the house with my crew.

9.    We will have these crazy busy sleepless baby and toddlers years out of the way in one fell swoop! It’s kind of nice to think that we will not have to do the baby thing all over again when these kiddos are older.

They wake through the night and are early risers. They are lucky they're so cute :-)

Now obviously there are drawbacks to having 3 so close together. I’m not going to paint an unrealistic picture here and tell you that having several young kids is a piece of cake. We all know that the baby and toddler years are some of the craziest.

It’s challenging enough to get sleep with just one kid, let alone 3 of them! You may save money on small items that the kids can share, like clothing, but you may have to spend more on big ticket items, like cribs and strollers. Currently all three of our little nuggets are in cribs! Life is a whirlwind and sometimes it takes every ounce of yourself to just keep your head above the water. Laundry. Has anyone mentioned how much laundry you need to do when there are 3 tiny people that make HUGE messes?! It’s insane. So yeah, there are indeed negative aspects to having stairstep children. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. And on some days (okay, a lot of days), the negative outweighs the positive.

See...obviously we aren't all always happy!

BUT…I wouldn’t trade it. Eventually these hard days with 2 tots and a baby will be long gone. Plus it’s a joy and a blessing to watch these kids experience life and learn together.

Besides, this was a post about the GREAT things about having 3 under 3, not the terrible things!

My little stairstep Loves

Always a Spectacle

Leaving the house is always a big deal. Not just because there are 3 little people to wrangle into the van, a diaper bag to not only fill up but to remember, and bribery that begins the instant their butts hit the car seats (“if you don’t throw yourself onto the floor in public today, I will give you some chocolate! Mmm…you LOVE chocolate!”).

It’s a big deal because with 3 kids under 3, we are always a spectacle.

Filing out of the van is always an ordeal. When I’m by myself with the kids I open up the side door, climb into the van and unbuckle the toddlers. Then I carefully lift the baby’s car seat out and set it on the floor while I get back out of the van. I grab the car seat in one arm and help the toddlers out of the van. Then with my free hand I hold Pax’s hand and he holds Jaelyn’s hand. Spectacle.

I am blessed to have children that are pretty well behaved a lot of the time. I haven’t yet had an incident where one of the toddlers lets go of a hand. Yet.

 (Tots in the back row and the baby in the middle row)

We fill up an entire cart with little bodies. If we’re lucky we can find a cart with one of those nifty attachments; either the double seater or the tiny car in the front. The kids love the tiny car! As we walk hand in hand into the store, or as I push the loaded cart, we get looks of adoration and we get the crazy eye. You know the crazy eye. That look of utter bewilderment with a little bit of annoyance thrown in. I’m sure I’ve given that look pre-children. “Oh my gosh, are you insane? Why would you take them all out by yourself?!”

 (Basically no room to even buy anything)

We get comments. Lots of comments. OH BOY, the comments.

“Are they all yours? “

“Are they twins” (referring to the toddlers)

“You sure have your hands full.”

“You are SO busy!”

“Wow, your life must be crazy right now.”

“You know they figured out how that happens?!”

“Got your own little day care, huh?”

And my all-time favorite “Pretty soon you’ll have your own tv show! Are you trying to compete with the Duggers?” (because 3 kids equals 19).

The list goes on and on and on. If I go out with all three kids, it’s guaranteed my little entourage will draw some looks and a few comments.

We aren’t just a spectacle when we go out either. Turns out, we are quite the ordeal even at home. Right now life is a whirlwind. I’m sure many can relate. Life is just crazy and chaotic. It doesn’t always seem like it in the day to day, when we are at home and in our element and doing our normal 3 kids under 3 thing.

But when we are around other people- people with no kids or people with older children, I realize how truly hectic and crazy life is right now. When I take a moment to sit and observe my surroundings, ya know…those rare moments when I can sit and breathe for just a second, I’m amazed at how insane it all seems to be. I wonder how I am keeping my head above the water.

I look at the overflowing dishes, the piling laundry, the toys scattered throughout the house (and why, for the love, can’t they just keep their toys in the toy room?! It’s a toy room for a reason, right?!) and I feel overwhelmed by it all.

(The infamous toy room. This disaster literally takes them roughly 11 seconds to complete)

 I see these 3 little people, so dependent on me for everything, so very needy and sometimes extremely whiney and sometimes all needing me at the same time, and I feel exhausted.

And then Pax, little mama’s boy Pax, runs up and kisses me on the arm and quickly runs off again. A real kiss. A lip-puckered-with-the-actual-smacking-noise kiss. Any mom can relate to a slobbery kiss from a little boy- especially a little boy who had previously only done the open mouthed kiss. A real kiss. On my arm. From my son.

And then there it was! My heart completely melted.

 (My baby boy. Energetic, furniture climber, rowdy, cuddly, mama's boy, heart melter)

I survive this crazy spectacle of a life for those heart-melting moments. They are rare in the day to day. Let’s just be honest here. The minutes and the hours pass slowly and sometimes there really isn’t any physical reward for all the hard work. But the love that I have for these children is overflowing and never ending. And at the end of the day, when all 3 kids are fast asleep and I think over the day’s events and I wonder how we can continue doing this day after extremely long day, I look at those sleeping bodies in their 3 little cribs and I know. I just know that I can do this because I love them. I can do this because this spectacle of a life means something. I’m their mom. I’m the biggest influence in their lives right now. I get the amazing and very scary job of molding these tiny people and  helping to shape their characters and tell them about Jesus and pray pray pray that my influence is positive and Christ-like.

So yes, we are a sight to be seen. We are a spectacle. We are a little bit crazy right now. And most of the time I’m overwhelmed and a little scatter brained. But…BUT this is my life and this is an amazing life. So when I get those inevitable comments from people about how crazy it must be with these three little ones, I smile and say “Yeah, it’s crazy. But it’s fun too and I love it!” And that’s the honest truth!