A Letter to my Husband on Father's Day

Dear Phillip,

I remember sitting in the Warehouse on our college campus, talking about our hopes and dreams, our passions, what we wanted to do with our lives. You were a business major. I was a missions major. We talked in length about how are dreams and our passions could actually fit together.
From the beginning you had direction. Sometimes it didn't appear that way to others looking in. Sometimes we were uncertain ourselves. But deep down, you knew. You knew where you were headed, you knew what you wanted to do. You had drive.

And while we got caught up in all things life, you still set your sights on what you knew God was calling you to do. When family thought we were just a bit crazy to be pursuing missions as a career choice, when we seemed stuck in dead end jobs just trying to make ends meet, when we continued to reproduce little people and people really thought we were crazy, when seemingly endless obstacles continued to bombard us in countless directions....you pressed on.

Through all of that you held on. You may not have known exactly where God was leading us, but you did know that God was leading us. You may have had your doubts at times, but you still followed God with all of your heart, with all of your passion. You gave Him everything. And in turn, you gave me everything.

I didn't marry you because I thought you would buy me all the fancy things. I didn't marry you because I knew we would be living a grand life or because I thought I would get everything I ever wanted. I didn't marry you because everyone wanted us to and thought we should be together. I married you because of your character, because of your heart, and because of your desire to serve God.

I had an inkling our life wouldn't be normal. Deep down I knew it wouldn't be easy. But I knew that God was the center of your life, and I knew that I needed that in a husband more than anything else.
Because of you, I'm a better me. You've been patient with me, kind towards, loving and full of generosity. You take the time to draw things out of me, knowing it's not something I do well. You speak gently to me, even when we are arguing. You are quick to apologize and you long to reconcile when we are not on one accord. You are my shelter, my protector, the man that has my heart.

All of these things that you are to me, you are to our children as well. You are kind and patient with them, though you don't think you are. You are loving and affectionate towards them. They adore you. When you take them out on little dates, it melts my heart. When you get down on the floor with them so you can be their human jungle gym, I can't help but smile. You are creating a place for them to feel confident and strong, but also where they can have security in feeling scared and vulnerable. You are their hero, the man that loves them undconditionally, their dad.

My heart could burst into a thousand pieces with all the respect I have for you, the love that wells up inside of me, the joy I have in being your wife. I'm beyond blessed that you are the father of our children, that you are our provider, that you care so deeply for us. I cherish you and the way you treat these kids, the way you love us, the way you faithfully and diligently provide for us without ever complaining.

I'm the luckliest girl in the world.

Thank you for being my husband and for being the father of our beautiful children.

You make us smile and laugh every day.
You teach us the important things in life.
You provide for our needs and wants.
You love God and seek Him with every part of you.
You work hard.
You are diligent.
You are kind and caring and compassionate.
You are loving and respectful.
You are a respected man.
You are faithful.
You are driven and you are successful.
You are a hero.
You are adored by your children.
You are my love.

I finally get it

Mom,

I can't imagine what your life was like with 2 babies when you were just a baby yourself. I have young kids now and I'm in my 30's, and I feel overwhelmed a lot of the time. I can't imagine what your life was like living far away from family and not having a community. I live far away from family now, but I have a supportive community.

You share stories with me about when we were younger, and although you have never complained about how hard life really was for you, I know. I know it was exhausting, I know it was scary at times, and I know you were lonely.

Your life wasn't easy, but we never once knew that. You showed strength and determination, but most of all you showed love. We always knew you loved us. There was never a doubt. It was clear that you put us first in your life. You protected us and sheltered us when you needed to, you stood up for us, you safeguarded us against the harshness of life. You stayed with us and for us. You stayed to protect us. In all of those ways, I know that you loved us unconditionally.

My heart goes out to you. As a mother myself, I finally get it. I understand all that you did for us. And I'm filled with love for you. I mean, I've always loved you. You're my mom and you're an amazing mom. But it wasn't until I became a mom myself and truly saw the sacrifices you made for us that I understood your love.

I finally get it. I understand your love for me and my brothers now. I truly get why you stayed up late "helping" us with our class projects, why you let me come home from school when I was "sick and throwing up" knowing I just didn't want to be at school, why you made us tomato soup and let us drink it out of sippy cups just because we wanted to, why you couldn't leave me at home when you saw me crying through my bedroom window. I get it now.

I finally get it. I understand that you DO love me more. There's no question, there's no doubt. You're my mom. You will always love me more. I get it now. I will still always respond to your "I love you" texts with "I love you more" because that's what I've always done. But I'll probably add a winky face because I get it now.

A mother is strength. She is the embodiment of what it means to love unconditionally, to carry her family through all of life's ups and downs, to hold it all together. A mother's love is eternal, it is extreme, it is powerful. A mother endures babies that wake up through the night, a toddler's nightmares, messy hands and faces, marker on the walls and floors, dirty diapers and endless piles of laundry, tantrums and all day whininess, a disaster of a house because once you clean the kids destroy it all again in seconds. A mother endures these things, but she also embraces it. Life with kids might be messy, exhausting, constantly draining, but a mom knows that it won't last forever. The babies start sleeping through the night, the kids start cleaning up after themselves, those dirty diapers are no more because your kids are potty trained, and soon each and every little body will grow up and move out.

A mom knows this, and so she embraces those hectic and difficult days. Not every time, and not every moment. Because we all know that it can be relentlessly overwhelming some days. But that's motherhood. The good with the bad, the loveable and cuddly with the rowdy and chaotic, the sweet little kisses with the gnashing of teeth, the tender and quiet moments with the screaming at the top of your lungs. Motherhood.

I just want you to know that I finally get it, mom. I get what it's like to be a mom, to feel all of those emotions, to love with every fiber of my being. I finally understand your love for me. At times, I want to apologize for never getting it  before, for not showing you the appreciation you so rightly deserve, for not loving you like you love me. But I know that's silly because no one can really understand until they experience it themselves.

Please know that I appreciate you. I am grateful for all that you did in my life, how you raised me, what you taught me. I'm thankful for the moments you thought you might go insane, but were able to hold yourself together for our benefit. I'm thankful for how you took care of us when we were whiny and overtired, when we complained about every little thing, when we had ungrateful attitudes for the meals you prepared for us and the things you bought for us. Thank you for the nights you stayed up to hold us and rock us when we didn't feel good, for spending endless hours kissings our boo-boos, buying us new clothes each school year, teaching us to tie our shoes and ride our bikes, helping us with our homework and taking us to all of our practices and games. And thank you for the most important thing you could have done; teaching us about God and instilling a greater purpose in our little hearts.

Thank you for loving me enough to let me pursue the plans God has for me, for gracefully allowing me to move away and take your grand babies with. Thank you for cultivating my passion for writing and always encouraging me to pursue that. Thank you for speaking hope into my life when things were really difficult, for crying with me when life was so painful, for tenderly caring for me with the loss of life and enthusiastically sharing the joys of new life.

Your role in our lives may have seemed like just the thing that moms do. But it was more than that, as it should be. And I, for one, finally get it and I am so thankful that you were there through all of that.
I am thankful that I finally get it.

Thank you for being my mom. I love you (more ;-) )

Bittersweet

Today. Such a bittersweet day for me. Months ago I anticipated this day, dreamed about it, hoped for it. Today was the due date for the baby we lost last September.

For almost 3 months I imagined what this day would look like (or more accurately a week from this day because all of my babes have gone past their due dates), how labor would begin this time around, who would watch our trio while we were in the hospital, how the Littles would take to this newest addition.

When I should have been 11 weeks pregnant, the ultrasound showed that the baby had no heartbeat. Today I am sad that I don't have a newborn to hold in my arms or smother with kisses. I'm sad that the kids don't have a new sibling to meet. I'm sad that I can only imagine what that baby would have looked like and how his or her personality would have blended in our family.

After we lost our baby, I again imagined what this day would look like for me. Would I take the day to myself and mourn the child we lost, would I spend the day with the family and celebrate what God has so richly blessed us with, would I share my thoughts and feelings with others, or hold on to it deep in my heart.

But months ago I didn't expect to be expecting again. So this day also has a new meaning. Today I am mourning the baby that we didn't get to see and hold and know this side of heaven. But I'm also rejoicing that today I'm 16 weeks pregnant with the little avocado sized miracle that God has blessed us with. Today I still get to anticipate the joy of carrying a baby in my womb and delivering it into this world.

It's weird, ya know. Living in this moment of bitter and sweet. Mourning a loss and rejoicing in a life.
When I think about that baby, I still cry. Even though I know I'm going to have another baby, I still cry about the one we didn't get to have. The one we won't be bringing home this week.
And I also know that when we get to meet this little one that I'm growing right now, I will think how sad and crazy and weird it is that I never would have had him or her if we were having a baby today. It's crazy. And it's hard to wrap my mind around.

It's the same thing with Pax. I can't even imagine my life without that little guy. But the truth is that we miscarried 3 weeks before he was conceived.
Again, that was a moment of bittersweet. When that due date came around, I was pregnant with Pax. Still mourning the baby we lost, but rejoicing in what we were about to have.

Bittersweet.

One thing that the bitter of this reality has made clear is my many blessings in life. When I'm mourning the babies we have lost way too soon, it reminds me how precious and sacred life is. I look at the three beautiful children God has given me and I am overwhelmed. I look at my growing belly and feel itty bitty baby kicks and I'm amazed. I am so blessed. I cannot take these children for granted. I cannot complain about the bundles of energy, the fit throwing toddlers, the crazy attitudes and messy little faces because I am so blessed to call them mine.

That doesn't mean that days aren't hard. I have 3 toddlers! But it does mean that I can put it all in perspective. I have experienced three losses. I know the pain of losing babies. But I also know the joy of having babies. I am richly blessed. And so on this bittersweet day I can mourn what was taken so soon, but I can find joy in what has been given to me again.
I can remember what will never be, but I can also rejoice in what is to come.

I will never stop mourning for you, sweet baby girl. And every year on April 9th I will think about you and celebrate you and cry because I never got to hold you. But I am grateful that you get to be with the One that made you, and someday I will get to meet you!

A Redemption Story

Last year on September 23rd we lost something so wanted and so dear to us. At 11 weeks pregnant, I miscarried a precious little baby. The loss was devastating, as any loss is. And it has been quite the journey of suffering that we have gone through.
But my story of loss was only the beginning of the story. God had something in store that I could never have imagined, that I couldn't see in the midst of the agony of losing a baby.

This loss was different than my previous two miscarriages. Mostly because I was different in this season of life than I had been the previous years. God had already taken me through a season of learning (and failing a lot) to trust in Him. He had been working on my heart to see a different side of His character; His compassion for our suffering.

I'm just going to be honest and admit that my two previous losses ended in me being angry with God, blaming Him for allowing it to happen. I rationalized that He's God and He could have miraculously saved those two babies, but He chose not to. I saw God as cold, distant, not really caring about the real and painful things going on in my life.

I look back on those days, those months, those years and I cringe because I now know that God was mourning with me in my loss. It wasn't just my loss, it was His loss too. A dear friend, who also experienced a significant loss told me that she didn't blame God, wasn't angry with Him because she knew that God was mourning with her. That this sort of thing, death and disease and suffering, was not how He had intended it. But because of sin, death is now a part of life and God grieves with us when these tragedies occur. I will never ever forget her words because her view of God, her love for Him and her understanding of His love for her completely changed my life. And I started to see this truth that she spoke in my own life.

Having this understanding doesn't change the hurt. It doesn't really ease the pain. But it totally changed my reaction to what happened, and it completely transformed my prayer going forward.
The loss was devastating. I still feel the pain. My hurt will never completely go away.

But the one thing that changed for me was my prayer afterward. I prayed for redemption through this loss. I didn't know what that meant and I didn't know what that would look like. But that was and has been my prayer since that awful day in September.

And God answered my prayer in two very specific ways. The first was through my story. I wrote a blog about my experience and I prayed that somehow, someway, God would use my words to speak to people. I'm not the only one that has experienced this or any kind of grief and suffering in life. And I prayed that my words and thoughts would resonate with someone, anyone, and it would be a positive thing in their life. Friends, God answered that prayer in a tremendous way. So many women reached out to me and thanked me for sharing my story because they had also suffered in that way, and it was, in a weird sort of way, refreshing to hear someone sharing their painful story of loss too.
For some reason, miscarriage has been a taboo subject and many women carry this secret grief around, never letting anyone know that their lives are crumbling and they are deeply mourning.

It was hard to write my story, hard to share my grief with so many. But God redeemed that aspect of this loss, and I clearly saw His hand working through it.

The second way God redeemed our loss is even more crazy and amazing and awesome! There aren't enough adjectives to describe it!

Satan has a way of messing with us and making us believe his lies. The lies that he was feeding me were that God wouldn't give me another baby because I wasn't a good enough mom for the three that I already had, and the other lie was that I wouldn't be able to get pregnant again (and why should I whine and complain about that anyway, when God had already blessed me with 3 healthy kids?!).
I honestly fell into his trap and believed I wouldn't be able to get pregnant again. For several months we tried, and each month I was devastated when no little plus sign emerged.

But God continued to speak His truth to me, and His Word continued to spring up. Mark 5:36 says "Don't be afraid, just believe". And I have clung to that verse, not knowing what God had in store for our lives.

And here is the crazy, amazing, funny, awesome God we serve: We are pregnant right now, and this baby is due on September 23rd, the day that we lost our baby last year! If that is not a redemption story that ONLY GOD could orchestrate, I don't know what is!

Every single time I think about this crazy journey and God's amazing redemption story that is specifically for me in my life at this time, I cry. I just cry because He DOES care. All those years I thought He didn't care about the little things, didn't care about the things I was going through personally. It's just that I couldn't, or chose not to, see it. And here, right now in all of this, He is showing little ol me that He does indeed care.

Friends, He loves so deeply, cares so compassionately, pursues so intently. We only have to be accepting and allow Him to show us.

What it's really like living on support

One of the hardest parts for me about being a missionary is raising our own support. We took a course on Partnership Development and we learned all about why it’s okay to ask for support, why it’s necessary and even beneficial for those giving. We learned that it’s Biblical and how to do it well. We also learned that it should be comfortable and a blessing to all those involved.

We learned so much about raising support. The only problem…I still feel so awkward. Nothing stuck for me. I didn’t suddenly get comfortable doing it. I didn’t suddenly feel great about it. The idea of support raising, asking individuals and churches to support us and our ministry financially still makes my palms sweat, makes my stomach turn and makes me feel so awkward.

I’ve often told Phillip that I wish we could make our own money. Maybe get part time jobs and support ourselves. That way we could buy whatever we wanted and not feel guilty about doing certain things with our income because it was given to us. I feel uncomfortable eating out, going to Starbucks, taking the kids to the zoo. I always think “would our supporters be upset that I’m using their money for this?”. I know that it sounds silly, but when we are paid by individuals and not necessarily an organization I really start to think about what we’re doing with this money and what other people would think about it.

It’s stressful sometimes too. Living on support. To be completely honest, there are times that we don’t know if we’ll have enough money to make it through the month. Sometimes people forget. It’s normal. I’ve forgotten to pay a bill before. And if it’s not coming out of our account automatically, I have to put up reminders to pay things. Life gets busy. People forget.

Sometimes people have to stop supporting us for whatever reason. We get it. It’s not personal. But it also means that we have to figure out how to raise that extra money.

You see….for me, living on support is difficult. It can be awkward, it can be uncomfortable and we have to constantly do it.

But here’s the flip side. Here’s what makes it all worth it (for me anyway):

Living on support is living on faith. We have to trust God for EVERYTHING! I cannot tell you how many times we have been on our knees asking God to come through on our behalf because the support just wasn’t there. And it’s crazy you guys, just absolutely crazy because God does come through. Every. Single. Time. He comes through. He’s a miracle worker!

About a week or so after we miscarried I was feeling pretty crappy. Not only was I mourning this incredible loss, but we were cutting it very close in the finance department. I was growing increasingly agitated and grumbling at God about how we’re supposed to be doing His work yada yada yada, and He’s not even there for us. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. I was mad at God for not providing and for allowing us to live this uncomfortable life.

Seemingly out of nowhere, I got a card from a girl in my Bible study expressing her sorrow about our loss, but also exclaiming that God laid it on her heart to give us this money. The money was just the amount we needed! God is faithful. But He’s more than too. Yes, He faithfully provided the money that we needed, but He also provided some measure of comfort that I was longing for.

A few weeks before Christmas we decided that we would drive back “home” to visit with family and pick up some welcome baskets a supporting church made for refugees coming into our area. We were hesitant to make the decision to go because we just didn’t have the money. Like…we did not have the money. At all! But we knew we needed to go because we had to get those welcome baskets back here somehow, AND my dad told us he wanted to buy us a new vehicle! And so we prayed! We told God our needs, asked Him to somehow provide for us and thanked Him for His continual provisions. And we set out for the Midwest.

I kid you not, within the first 2 days of our trip we received $1000 from various people. One thousand dollars! Is that not insane?! We were blown away. Even now as I am writing this, I’m getting all choked up thinking about how God prompted several different people to give of their hard earned cash. He cares! And He provides.

These stories are not unique to us.

It’s funny though because I continue to worry and stress when bills come in and there isn’t enough in our bank account to cover everything. I still get nervous when a supporter doesn’t give one month or when checks come in late. I still sometimes doubt that God will come through this time, for whatever reason.It’s living on faith. Constantly, every day.

Often Phillip and I will discuss whether or not we should get jobs outside of the ministry, to help offset some of our costs, to pay off our student loans, to save some extra money. These conversations usually take place when we are smack in the middle of money stress. It seems that within moments of these conversations (that may be slightly exaggerating. Maybe hours or days) God provides for our needs in very specific ways. And then we say “Well, I guess He wants us to just keep doing what we’re doing?!”

Living on support is a love hate relationship for me. I still don’t always enjoy it, I still feel awkward sometimes. But I love that it causes me to have to trust God completely. I love that I have to rely on Him, that I get to pray about specific things all the time. And I love the ways in which He provides. It’s always different, it’s always amazing.

And really, I love having a connection with our supporters. I have such amazing feelings towards them. I’m humbled all the time by their generosity, by their love and support. More than most people, my heart goes out to them. I think about them and pray for them often because they are allowing us to do this work among refugees without the added worry of working a traditional job to afford it. 

We are certainly blessed.

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!