Dear Baby

As I recount the last 24 hours of the moments you were living inside of me I think of the joy that had my heart overflowing. The excitement of your gift of life, the secret that only a few knew of, the counting ahead of the months to come and when I would finally get to meet you, get to hold you.

The night before you were lost to me forever I spent playing in an orchestra concert. I was proud to be playing my violin, glowing from the inside out, feeling strong as a woman who could create life and create art at the same time. Chatting with fellow musicians about the day, all the while beaming from within and wanting to shout from the rooftops that I carried not only my own soul, but yours as well.

Going to sleep that night I spoke to your daddy and we talked through names that we wanted to name you. I know you were still so small, so tiny, but your presence emanated from my every thought. You were there with us… or at least I thought you were.

The next morning, we went to church and as I sang to God I thought with expectation of the coming weeks when you could begin to hear me, begin to know me. We came home and had pizza for lunch and before eating I noticed one small spot of blood… the thought that you may no longer be here crossed my mind, however I didn’t let it take over. I didn’t think that your precious life could be taken from me so suddenly. I didn’t think that God would allow for your spirit to soar ahead without me. 

As I drove the hour to get to my second orchestra concert of the weekend I tried to let peace overtake me. Tried to reason that all would be ok. I reached the auditorium, set my violin down and headed towards the bathroom. And that’s when I knew you were gone. Though I still held onto a small hope.

Rushing back into the auditorium white as a ghost I was approached by some fellow violinists. One grabbed me in her arms, held me fiercely tight like a mama bear to her cub and prayed to Jesus for you. Prayed to Jesus for me. I grabbed my violin and ran back to my car and made the trek home. My sweet baby, it was a long ride… not knowing if you were still there with me. 

The next morning was hazy. At the doctor’s office… staring at the women and their swollen bellies, the women and their newborn babies, I waited. And then I was told that you were gone. As I lay on the chair and stared at the screen that was supposed to show your life, all I saw was emptiness. And I felt empty.

I had to get blood taken three more times after that trip to the doctor’s office. Watch the numbers in my blood that shouted of your existence fade away. Diminish. It was like you were never even here… 

But. You were.

Missing you and loving your brother so much

It was that same chair that I laid on and the same screen that I stared at 3 short months later when I saw your brother wriggling around. Where I heard his sweet, strong heartbeat. Where I was able to accept that he was alive in that moment. But you were on my mind. I would never get to see you in such a way. I would never get to hear your heartbeat. I loved your brother, baby, but I missed you so so much. I didn’t want you to think we had forgotten you. That we had just decided to replace you with another. 

I can’t wait to meet you. I can’t wait to see your smile and bury my head in your hair. I can’t wait to tell you how much I have always loved you. You will never be forgotten. Your very being filled me with unspeakable joy.

You will never know what pain is, or suffering. You will never be scared or hurt. All you will know is the unbridled love and peace of our Savior. One day I will share this with you. Until then… you will always have a piece of my heart.

Summer

It's the summer. That means 3 kids, all day, all the time. A new thing for us. I'd love to write more,

but it's a miracle I have a moment to stop at all today amidst packing for our first vacation as a family of 5.

I'll just say this... these past few weeks have made me feel like I have never worked harder in my life. But in reality I have... I worked to save my life through my depression and that work started almost 4 years ago to the day. I'm not reminding myself of this to diminish the feelings I'm having now, but to bring empowerment that I am stronger then I have ever been.  Praises to God for all He has given me and gotten me through!

Going going all day long.

No time to sing my own song.

Little hands and little feet.

Guiding, teaching, keeping sweet.

Moments of pure joy and fear.

Moments of how did I get here.

Will I raise them up to love?

Will I raise them to know the one above?

Overwhelmed and always tired.

Fact is I'll never be fired.

Hearts so pure, so open, so true.

Little lips saying "I love you."

It is a season, a blip in time.

Slowly speeding... but it is mine.

Grace to Pull the Rip Cord

Lately I've been feeling a lot of this...

50,000 things I could do.

10,000 things I should do.

10 things I am able to do.

I spend most of my time in freefall trying to manage three little ones. Commitments have fallen by the wayside, things I once found pertinent to maintain a sense of self have been shelved and a new way of managing the chaos is... well... it's still developing. When I find myself about to fall into the abyss, never to be seen from again, I somehow (ok truly by the grace of God) am able to grab the rip cord, give it a big tug, and once again fly upwards, clear and free, into the chaos.

As the chance of  being able to fulfill commitments, housework, growing my marriage, friendships, taking a shower, all pass by me at an alarming rate, I have let discouragement creep in. Misery loves company doesn't it? And that tiny little gnat of self doubt nipping at my ear turns into a giant mosquito biting me at every turn and blindly leading me into comparing myself to others.

Ah comparing.

It's like a curse word whispered underneath the breath of all young moms. Her baby is a week old and she is ALREADY walking two miles?! She has 4 kids and she looks like THAT?! She homeschools all 7 of her children and can still provide a home cooked meal to those in need?!

Come on... you know you've done it.

It's something we all do and have all done since we understood people were different then us. Some are more prone to compare, to lay judgement, others are able to be truly glad for the strengths they see in their peers and applaud them for their achievements.... but no one is perfect.

Typically I am the latter, often seeing what others can do as good for them and then moving on. However, lost in the chaos that is now my life, I've found it easier to look at so and so and see if they "seem" to have it all together then so should I.

A few weeks ago I was feeling discouraged about being unable to fully support Dhrumil in a struggle he was facing. Unknowingly I started comparing myself to him and how he had been able to walk by myside during three years of grueling postpartum depression with the right words to say, the right things to do and being one of  the most important supports in my recovery. It took a dear wise friend to tell me to stop comparing myself to him. She reminded me that he has his own strengths and I have mine. He may be able to support me in ways that I can't support him, however that does not mean I don't have my own strengths and ways to support him.

Again and again I have heard the same message from different friends over the past few weeks and through them God has been telling me...

You have your strengths, they have theirs. They don't look the same, they are not the same, but that doesn't mean your strengths or their strengths are any better. If you are unable to do what they do, that is ok! Stop comparing! I have created you as a unique, beautiful individual who can do and will do many amazing things... and they are what I have created you to do. You are enough.

Last night I was talking to a fellow mom of three about my frustration with still not being able to figure out how to manage my life and the lives of three little ones. She laughed, threw her hands up in the air and told me that having three is chaos and you just have to embrace it. As she shared some of her experiences a weight was lifted off of me as I heard my own struggles in hers. Why do we not share are struggles more openly? Think of how supported we would feel. She may approach her struggles differently, but that doesn't mean her life is still not just as chaotic as mine.

And so... here I am. At the end of my post.

Perhaps what I wrote will help others embrace what they can do and stop comparing to others what they can not do. I'm going to challenge myself this week to fully embrace the 10 things (or at least three tiny people things) I am able to accomplish and smile and cheer for my peers who are accomplishing the other 9,990...

OR are they really?

Who cares!! Up I float once again out of the abyss for my God has got me.

35

This is the first year I feel old.

I know for those of you who are older you're probably rolling your eyes... I'm sure I will roll my eyes when I reread this post in years to come.

However, today I feel old.

Yesterday we were eating lunch at church and a group of younger people sat down and joined us. As I was attempting to dart sweet potatoes being spit at me by Colin, I smiled, said hello and asked if they were in high school. Turns out they were in their last years of College... and two of them were engaged. I then proceeded to recount our engagement story where we didn't have a camera to capture the moment and had to run to CVS, grab a disposable and return to the recreate the gorgeous scene (which I might add did not work very well.) One of the newly engaged remarked "well it's easier nowadays to capture moments." "Yeah," I replied "we didn't have cameras on our phones back then." Blank stares. I felt old.

This weekend we went out to celebrate my birthday. Dhrumil looked dashing in his sports coat, I
wore red lipstick. I felt grown up, fun and trendy. After a lovely dinner followed by a drink at a jazz club, we decided to go home... at 10pm. I felt old.

On a trip with just one child, Colin, people assumed he was our first. When I corrected them, told them he was our third and that our oldest was 7. I felt old.

Last week was our 10 year wedding anniversary. 10 years?! How could 10 years have passed already!? I looked at my husband who has grown stronger, more handsome and even more brilliant with age. A man who constantly knows what I'm thinking before I do. I felt old.

With age comes wisdom. Right? My 34th year was one of redemption. I worked through grieving the baby that we lost. Colin was born, making my heart bigger, stronger and more resilient. I've spent the six months of Colin's life postpartum depression free. I have been stretched in new and crazy ways by juggling 3 kids, Dhrumil's new jobs and no sleep. I am far from super woman, however I know my limitations and am aware enough when to ask for help and when too much is too much. My personal growth has taken off and instead of continuing to rebuild myself as I have been doing for 4 years, I am now adding new windows and doors and even additions! I feel whole. I feel complete. I am more sure of myself, more confident, more ME! And it feels good... I am ever changing, ever evolving and yet I'm ok with that because I finally know I have a good base to add too.

So come on 35... you may feel old, but I bet with age comes comfort, strength and endurance to continue on.

A baby 7 years after the first and so much fun!