This morning I enjoyed, to the fullness of what is possible (as in the hot water ran out), a nice warm shower.
It was magnificent.
30 minutes of uninterrupted thinking time. Alone, with my thoughts.
Usually, for whatever reason, these precious moments lead me to processing through my miscarriages. It seems strange that 6 years since the first, 1 year since the last, I still take so much precious time to think and to remember, to relive, to process through, to analyze, and to understand each tiny little detail of those days.
This morning, it was the people. The people, so many different people, that have entered my life at such a delicate time, and then quietly slipped out - never to be forgotten. Some have stayed as friends, some aquaintances that I enjoy bumping into at the grocery store, and for many our bond only grew as they walked through such a difficult time with me.
There are two such people on my mind today.
The first one is my midwife, Rita.
I'll never forget the very first day I met her. It was July 20, 2006.
The day of my first miscarriage. I'll never forget what she said, where I sat, my uncontrollable sobbing. My husband seated across from me, trying to keep his tears at bay, but having a difficult time. She was kind, professional. She explained how miscarriage can happen, genes lining up, most likely this wouldn't happen again. I cried and cried.
Then my phone rang. I was completely embarrased. I didn't even know it was with me. My husband looked at me like "why didn't you turn your phone off???" It was at a time in our lives that we only had one cell phone between the two of us, and we rarely ever carried it. No one ever called me on it either and if they did it was usually on silent. But here I was sobbing, in a doctor's office, and my phone rang. I felt like an idiot as I fumbled through my jumbled mess of a purse to find it and silence it quickly. It was my friend, Sarah. She had no idea what was going on that day, no clue my worst nightmare was unfolding. She was just calling to chat, strange and unusual since she wouldn't normally have called during the middle of the day.
A few months later, my midwife and I had gotten to know each other a little better by working together at a local pregnancy center. A few months and a couple miscarriages later I became pregnant (and stayed pregnant) with my oldest daughter (now 4) and she was there through my labor and delivery. 3 years, 3 more miscarriages, and 1 more baby later (whom she also delivered) - I now serve on a birth coalition board with my midwife.
In the summer of 2009 I miscarried our fifth baby (fourth miscarriage) on a Sunday afternoon. Monday morning I called my midwife's office to let them know what had happened. That evening I recieved a call from Rita. She asked how I was doing, I said I'd be fine. When she asked why I decided not to come in that day I told her it was because all I would have done was cried. She said she would have cried with me, and I knew it was true. I knew that she would have been there for me, as I needed her to be.
I consider her a mentor and a friend, someone who has seen me at my most vulnerable times. She has seen me through a lot of heartache and a lot of joy. I sat around a table the other night with several women (Rita one of them), 3 of us with babies; some she helped deliver, and I wondered - what must it be like for her? What must it be like to see these babies, and know our stories, and to know just how blessed we feel - and she was a part of it, a big part. Her place in my life is a very very special one, one that cannot be replaced.
The second person is a woman named Joyce.
I met Joyce at a bible study I attended the Summer of 2010. She was in the discussion group I was in. That summer I went through my 5th miscarriage. These women surrounded me with prayer through the whole thing. They were excited with me when I told them I was pregnant and cried with me when a few weeks later it was over. After our bible study ended I didn't see most of them again, including Joyce.
Then in the fall of 2011, I walked into MOPS one morning and glanced in the church office - and there was Joyce, sitting at the desk as the church's new secretary! I was so surprised to see her there!
I had recently announced my latest pregnancy and was eager to tell Joyce! She had seen me through one of my miscarriages and I knew she would be excited to know we were expecting again and this time, things looked really hopeful. It has been almost a year since then, and a new MOPS season is well under way. I see Joyce every other Thursday - and I feel a special connection with her.
Many people know our story, but fewer people have lived our story.
I love showing those people our newest baby. I love bringing her up to them to say "Look! Do you see her! God did this for us! You prayed for this! Do you see? Do you remember? Isn't God good! Rejoice with me!"
And I know, I know, they do.
10.19.2012
The People We Know
This morning I enjoyed, to the fullness of what is possible (as in the hot water ran out), a nice warm shower.
It was magnificent.
30 minutes of uninterrupted thinking time. Alone, with my thoughts.
Usually, for whatever reason, these precious moments lead me to processing through my miscarriages. It seems strange that 6 years since the first, 1 year since the last, I still take so much precious time to think and to remember, to relive, to process through, to analyze, and to understand each tiny little detail of those days.
This morning, it was the people. The people, so many different people, that have entered my life at such a delicate time, and then quietly slipped out - never to be forgotten. Some have stayed as friends, some aquaintances that I enjoy bumping into at the grocery store, and for many our bond only grew as they walked through such a difficult time with me.
There are two such people on my mind today.
The first one is my midwife, Rita.
I'll never forget the very first day I met her. It was July 20, 2006.
The day of my first miscarriage. I'll never forget what she said, where I sat, my uncontrollable sobbing. My husband seated across from me, trying to keep his tears at bay, but having a difficult time. She was kind, professional. She explained how miscarriage can happen, genes lining up, most likely this wouldn't happen again. I cried and cried.
Then my phone rang. I was completely embarrased. I didn't even know it was with me. My husband looked at me like "why didn't you turn your phone off???" It was at a time in our lives that we only had one cell phone between the two of us, and we rarely ever carried it. No one ever called me on it either and if they did it was usually on silent. But here I was sobbing, in a doctor's office, and my phone rang. I felt like an idiot as I fumbled through my jumbled mess of a purse to find it and silence it quickly. It was my friend, Sarah. She had no idea what was going on that day, no clue my worst nightmare was unfolding. She was just calling to chat, strange and unusual since she wouldn't normally have called during the middle of the day.
A few months later, my midwife and I had gotten to know each other a little better by working together at a local pregnancy center. A few months and a couple miscarriages later I became pregnant (and stayed pregnant) with my oldest daughter (now 4) and she was there through my labor and delivery. 3 years, 3 more miscarriages, and 1 more baby later (whom she also delivered) - I now serve on a birth coalition board with my midwife.
In the summer of 2009 I miscarried our fifth baby (fourth miscarriage) on a Sunday afternoon. Monday morning I called my midwife's office to let them know what had happened. That evening I recieved a call from Rita. She asked how I was doing, I said I'd be fine. When she asked why I decided not to come in that day I told her it was because all I would have done was cried. She said she would have cried with me, and I knew it was true. I knew that she would have been there for me, as I needed her to be.
I consider her a mentor and a friend, someone who has seen me at my most vulnerable times. She has seen me through a lot of heartache and a lot of joy. I sat around a table the other night with several women (Rita one of them), 3 of us with babies; some she helped deliver, and I wondered - what must it be like for her? What must it be like to see these babies, and know our stories, and to know just how blessed we feel - and she was a part of it, a big part. Her place in my life is a very very special one, one that cannot be replaced.
The second person is a woman named Joyce.
I met Joyce at a bible study I attended the Summer of 2010. She was in the discussion group I was in. That summer I went through my 5th miscarriage. These women surrounded me with prayer through the whole thing. They were excited with me when I told them I was pregnant and cried with me when a few weeks later it was over. After our bible study ended I didn't see most of them again, including Joyce.
Then in the fall of 2011, I walked into MOPS one morning and glanced in the church office - and there was Joyce, sitting at the desk as the church's new secretary! I was so surprised to see her there!
I had recently announced my latest pregnancy and was eager to tell Joyce! She had seen me through one of my miscarriages and I knew she would be excited to know we were expecting again and this time, things looked really hopeful. It has been almost a year since then, and a new MOPS season is well under way. I see Joyce every other Thursday - and I feel a special connection with her.
Many people know our story, but fewer people have lived our story.
I love showing those people our newest baby. I love bringing her up to them to say "Look! Do you see her! God did this for us! You prayed for this! Do you see? Do you remember? Isn't God good! Rejoice with me!"
And I know, I know, they do.
It was magnificent.
30 minutes of uninterrupted thinking time. Alone, with my thoughts.
Usually, for whatever reason, these precious moments lead me to processing through my miscarriages. It seems strange that 6 years since the first, 1 year since the last, I still take so much precious time to think and to remember, to relive, to process through, to analyze, and to understand each tiny little detail of those days.
This morning, it was the people. The people, so many different people, that have entered my life at such a delicate time, and then quietly slipped out - never to be forgotten. Some have stayed as friends, some aquaintances that I enjoy bumping into at the grocery store, and for many our bond only grew as they walked through such a difficult time with me.
There are two such people on my mind today.
The first one is my midwife, Rita.
I'll never forget the very first day I met her. It was July 20, 2006.
The day of my first miscarriage. I'll never forget what she said, where I sat, my uncontrollable sobbing. My husband seated across from me, trying to keep his tears at bay, but having a difficult time. She was kind, professional. She explained how miscarriage can happen, genes lining up, most likely this wouldn't happen again. I cried and cried.
Then my phone rang. I was completely embarrased. I didn't even know it was with me. My husband looked at me like "why didn't you turn your phone off???" It was at a time in our lives that we only had one cell phone between the two of us, and we rarely ever carried it. No one ever called me on it either and if they did it was usually on silent. But here I was sobbing, in a doctor's office, and my phone rang. I felt like an idiot as I fumbled through my jumbled mess of a purse to find it and silence it quickly. It was my friend, Sarah. She had no idea what was going on that day, no clue my worst nightmare was unfolding. She was just calling to chat, strange and unusual since she wouldn't normally have called during the middle of the day.
A few months later, my midwife and I had gotten to know each other a little better by working together at a local pregnancy center. A few months and a couple miscarriages later I became pregnant (and stayed pregnant) with my oldest daughter (now 4) and she was there through my labor and delivery. 3 years, 3 more miscarriages, and 1 more baby later (whom she also delivered) - I now serve on a birth coalition board with my midwife.
In the summer of 2009 I miscarried our fifth baby (fourth miscarriage) on a Sunday afternoon. Monday morning I called my midwife's office to let them know what had happened. That evening I recieved a call from Rita. She asked how I was doing, I said I'd be fine. When she asked why I decided not to come in that day I told her it was because all I would have done was cried. She said she would have cried with me, and I knew it was true. I knew that she would have been there for me, as I needed her to be.
I consider her a mentor and a friend, someone who has seen me at my most vulnerable times. She has seen me through a lot of heartache and a lot of joy. I sat around a table the other night with several women (Rita one of them), 3 of us with babies; some she helped deliver, and I wondered - what must it be like for her? What must it be like to see these babies, and know our stories, and to know just how blessed we feel - and she was a part of it, a big part. Her place in my life is a very very special one, one that cannot be replaced.
The second person is a woman named Joyce.
I met Joyce at a bible study I attended the Summer of 2010. She was in the discussion group I was in. That summer I went through my 5th miscarriage. These women surrounded me with prayer through the whole thing. They were excited with me when I told them I was pregnant and cried with me when a few weeks later it was over. After our bible study ended I didn't see most of them again, including Joyce.
Then in the fall of 2011, I walked into MOPS one morning and glanced in the church office - and there was Joyce, sitting at the desk as the church's new secretary! I was so surprised to see her there!
I had recently announced my latest pregnancy and was eager to tell Joyce! She had seen me through one of my miscarriages and I knew she would be excited to know we were expecting again and this time, things looked really hopeful. It has been almost a year since then, and a new MOPS season is well under way. I see Joyce every other Thursday - and I feel a special connection with her.
Many people know our story, but fewer people have lived our story.
I love showing those people our newest baby. I love bringing her up to them to say "Look! Do you see her! God did this for us! You prayed for this! Do you see? Do you remember? Isn't God good! Rejoice with me!"
And I know, I know, they do.
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