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.
9.19.2012
Finish The Job....
Ah yes, I know - a new post, you've missed me I'm sure.
Finish the job... that is my new motto. I'm a horrible finisher. Well, I might be a bad starter too, but I'm really a terrible finisher. Finishing things is something I've never just quite figured out how to do. Usually its because I'm incredibly ambitious - not always a bad thing - but often times an overwhelming thing.
So, I've started "Finish The Job".
It is a new saying around our house - more specifically - around my head. I say it to myself atleast 50 times a day because, like I stated before, finishing things isn't my forte. I tend to get tired, hungry, bored, want to update my facebook status, find pictures to look at, find a good book I've been meaning to read, sit down to feed the baby, remember I forgot to take my vitamins, you know - could be anything. Either way, a job once started is a job probably not finished.
So this is what "Finish The Job" usually looks like:
- Asking my daughter to take her plate to the sink when she's finished eating as opposed to it sitting on the kitchen table until the next meal - or someone gets the initiative to clean off the kitchen table.
- Reminding my husband that although he took the foil out of the toaster oven, and put the toaster oven away - he also needs to throw away the foil... (not just his problem, something I tend to forget to do also.)
And this is what it looked like for me tonight (the italics are me speaking to myself) :
- Load and start the dishwasher, finish the job followed by wiping down the counter tops and noticing that the kitchen still stinks.... finish the job going through the tomatoes and throwing out the rotten and stinky ones (but leaving the good ones in the middle of the kitchen floor) - looking at the nice counter tops and realizing finish the job I should wipe off the stove too - then seeing the microwave finish the job and that it should also be wiped off (take a break to go feed the baby and put her back to bed) finish the job - on the way back to the counter tops seeing the tomatoes on the floor (still) finish the job and grabbing a bag and picking them up and putting them in the fridge. Then back to the microwave... finish the job wiping off the microwave, finding farkle instructions. finish the job On the way to putting away the Farkle instructions finding a bandaid wrapper on the floor, then a piece of paper, a bobby pin, a hair band, a backpack (with shrimp in it ... I know, what??), and a plastic Snow White. oy keep finishing the job Throw away bandaid wrapper, piece of paper; take bobby pin and hair band to bathroom, finish the job put shrimp in fridge; find stethescope and shoes and My Little Pony; put away Snow White, Stethscope, and My Little Pony; finish the job take shoes to shoe bin. On the way to the shoe bin I find... more shoes. finish the job Put away all the shoes ... all while still holding the Farkle instructions.... only to find... another set of Farkle instructions - in Spanish. finish the job So when this rather interesting montage is over - I will head to bed and finally put away both sets of Farkle instructions... because we need those Spanish ones even though we don't speak Spanish.
And there you have it - my mind and how I keep myself finishing jobs around here. And if you ever notice that my house is what most people would call a "disaster" - you now know its because I usually don't finish jobs.
All this paid off though - at the end of the night as Husband was heading to bed he said "Kitchen looks nice, Babe." and I thought to myself - Yes. It. Does.
Finish the job... that is my new motto. I'm a horrible finisher. Well, I might be a bad starter too, but I'm really a terrible finisher. Finishing things is something I've never just quite figured out how to do. Usually its because I'm incredibly ambitious - not always a bad thing - but often times an overwhelming thing.
So, I've started "Finish The Job".
It is a new saying around our house - more specifically - around my head. I say it to myself atleast 50 times a day because, like I stated before, finishing things isn't my forte. I tend to get tired, hungry, bored, want to update my facebook status, find pictures to look at, find a good book I've been meaning to read, sit down to feed the baby, remember I forgot to take my vitamins, you know - could be anything. Either way, a job once started is a job probably not finished.
So this is what "Finish The Job" usually looks like:
- Asking my daughter to take her plate to the sink when she's finished eating as opposed to it sitting on the kitchen table until the next meal - or someone gets the initiative to clean off the kitchen table.
- Reminding my husband that although he took the foil out of the toaster oven, and put the toaster oven away - he also needs to throw away the foil... (not just his problem, something I tend to forget to do also.)
And this is what it looked like for me tonight (the italics are me speaking to myself) :
- Load and start the dishwasher, finish the job followed by wiping down the counter tops and noticing that the kitchen still stinks.... finish the job going through the tomatoes and throwing out the rotten and stinky ones (but leaving the good ones in the middle of the kitchen floor) - looking at the nice counter tops and realizing finish the job I should wipe off the stove too - then seeing the microwave finish the job and that it should also be wiped off (take a break to go feed the baby and put her back to bed) finish the job - on the way back to the counter tops seeing the tomatoes on the floor (still) finish the job and grabbing a bag and picking them up and putting them in the fridge. Then back to the microwave... finish the job wiping off the microwave, finding farkle instructions. finish the job On the way to putting away the Farkle instructions finding a bandaid wrapper on the floor, then a piece of paper, a bobby pin, a hair band, a backpack (with shrimp in it ... I know, what??), and a plastic Snow White. oy keep finishing the job Throw away bandaid wrapper, piece of paper; take bobby pin and hair band to bathroom, finish the job put shrimp in fridge; find stethescope and shoes and My Little Pony; put away Snow White, Stethscope, and My Little Pony; finish the job take shoes to shoe bin. On the way to the shoe bin I find... more shoes. finish the job Put away all the shoes ... all while still holding the Farkle instructions.... only to find... another set of Farkle instructions - in Spanish. finish the job So when this rather interesting montage is over - I will head to bed and finally put away both sets of Farkle instructions... because we need those Spanish ones even though we don't speak Spanish.
And there you have it - my mind and how I keep myself finishing jobs around here. And if you ever notice that my house is what most people would call a "disaster" - you now know its because I usually don't finish jobs.
All this paid off though - at the end of the night as Husband was heading to bed he said "Kitchen looks nice, Babe." and I thought to myself - Yes. It. Does.
8.28.2012
Remembering....
I've been thinking a lot lately. About many many things - believe me. But right now I want to write about these things. These 6 babies and how they infiltrate my life. How I can't tell the story of my girls or their names without bringing in these 6.
A few weeks ago we had an open house in celebration of Zemirah's life. An open house to thank all of those who have prayed for her with us, prayed us through dark days, or carried our load when we just couldn't take another step.
At that open house I had these balloons - 3 pink, 3 blue; 6 in all for my 6 littlest ones.
My heart still aches somedays for them. At the strangest moments, when I'm cuddled up on the couch reading to Am and Z, when I'm holding Z and breathing in her sweet scent, or even just picturing the size of family we will have someday. We named our girls specifically - that their names would tell their story. And they do.
They open the door to share God's miracles and provision in our lives.
I always wonder what our lives would have been like if miscarriage wasn't such a large part of our story. Would we still want as many kids? Would we value them like we do now? Would we even understand true grief? I don't know. We've learned a lot over these years - and I know we have much more to learn.
And I look forward to the day that we will meet Baby K, Tiny, IddyBiddy, Cinco, Woven, and Bunnin.
8.20.2012
Musings on cloth diapering....
Cloth diapering... somedays I love it, somedays I hate it. Today is diaper day - which would make you think that today I hate it... but today, I love it.
It is on diaper day that I usually most love cloth diapering. Yes, it can be a hassle. Yes, it is sometimes time consuming. Yes, my diaper pail can get pretty stinky.
BUT...
Here are some reasons I love it:
- When you go to the store and forget everything important, atleast you don't have to worry about having forgotten diapers. Lets face it, the neighbors might have honey and chicken noodle soup when you have a cold, but what's the chance they have any size 2 diapers laying around?
- That baby butt only gets cuter when you put a little purple on it :)
- Sometimes washing diapers is what pulls me out of an "I'm tired and don't want to do anything" funk. I have to wash the diapers, regardless, the baby will poop and I will have to change her into something.
- When I put a certain diaper on my baby I'm reminded of how blessed we truly are and am reminded to pray for orphans around the world... see The Little Bee Co.
- I never run out of diapers!
- Folding diaper laundry is brainless and surprisingly fun, makes me not feel so guilty about not folding the rest of my laundry.
- Not that I should strive to be "cool" but when I wash diapers and hang them out on the line I feel a little bit like my mom when she was a farm wife - and she's pretty cool :)
- I love the smile Z gives me everytime I smear coconut oil on her butt.
- There are so many different options for cloth diapering, I get to have a little fun when I pick out what diaper to put on next.
- Sometimes I make my baby's diaper match her outfit. (rarely, because I have a hard time matching anything)
- Babies with giant butts look like Weeble Wobbles and who doesn't love a Weeble Wobble?
And Finally -
I love Cloth Diapering because I'm saving a whole lot of money! (which may be what carries me through on the days I want to give the whole thing up)
8.02.2012
the end of July
July is over. and to that you say "I know, Brie. I've seen the calendar"
but with the end of July we have:
the end of miscarriage anniversaries for a few months
the death of most of my garden (either from rabbits, weeds, or heat - although I'm still pulling for some tomatoes)
the end of swim lessons for another year (side note: my 4 year old impressed the pants off of me and passed level 2 swimming, however she will not be able to advance to level 3 until she's 6. my little swimmer...future olympian there.)
and finally what feels like a little bit of a breather.
but really, who am I kidding? This month is already filling up and my little big one starts preschool the first week of September. My life is moving faster than I'd like it to.
Saturday we are hosting an open house for the baby, I will *hopefully* post pictures following!
Until then....
but with the end of July we have:
the end of miscarriage anniversaries for a few months
the death of most of my garden (either from rabbits, weeds, or heat - although I'm still pulling for some tomatoes)
the end of swim lessons for another year (side note: my 4 year old impressed the pants off of me and passed level 2 swimming, however she will not be able to advance to level 3 until she's 6. my little swimmer...future olympian there.)
and finally what feels like a little bit of a breather.
but really, who am I kidding? This month is already filling up and my little big one starts preschool the first week of September. My life is moving faster than I'd like it to.
Saturday we are hosting an open house for the baby, I will *hopefully* post pictures following!
Until then....
7.13.2012
remembering Bunnin
It was a year ago today that something didn't feel right. More spotting, very little queazies, something felt off. My dr. sent me for a blood test, by 3pm I had the results. I sat down, I hugged my (then) 3 yr old, and I let it all sink in. My levels had dropped to nearly nothing, it could be a few days yet because of the progesterone injections, but the truth was - the baby was gone. again.
It's hard to understand timing, circumstances, loss. Looking back, a year later, with a surprise miracle next to me, not quite 2 months old - it's hard to understand today's significance.
Another loss, but without this loss - I wouldn't have this life... I hate the paradox that these losses put me in. I hate the loss but love the win that wouldn't have happened without them....
It's so hard to balance it all.
So today, while I snuggle and cuddle and kiss my old bundle and my new bundle (the old one is 4 now) I'll remember Bunnin; a part of my body for just a short time, but a part of my heart forever.
I love you, Bunnin. I am blessed beyond measure to be your mom.
It's hard to understand timing, circumstances, loss. Looking back, a year later, with a surprise miracle next to me, not quite 2 months old - it's hard to understand today's significance.
Another loss, but without this loss - I wouldn't have this life... I hate the paradox that these losses put me in. I hate the loss but love the win that wouldn't have happened without them....
It's so hard to balance it all.
So today, while I snuggle and cuddle and kiss my old bundle and my new bundle (the old one is 4 now) I'll remember Bunnin; a part of my body for just a short time, but a part of my heart forever.
I love you, Bunnin. I am blessed beyond measure to be your mom.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)