November 28 marked six months since Carina was born. It's hard for me to see other 6 month old children. I think about Carina doing the same things they are doing. Sitting up, up on all fours, solid foods...so many things. As the holidays approach it's been a bit harder. Autumn loves Christmas and everything is "Amazing!" I imagine Carina would have been in awe of everything as well. We are teaching Autumn about the true meaning of Christmas (she is excited about Santa as well, as are most 3 year-olds), and she understands that Christmas is Jesus' birthday. We will be making cupcakes to celebrate! Maybe they're having cake in heaven to celebrate, too.
I've been learning some things in my devotions. Back in the days of blacksmiths and silversmiths, the process for refining precious metals was, and still is, to put it in the midst of intense fire. The silversmith would crush up the ore, put it in a fireproof piece of pottery, and place it in the middle of a great fire. The workman knew exactly how hot to keep the fire and for how long to keep the metal heating in order to skim off the impurities that would come to the surface. The goal: to see his reflection.
This process is exactly how God takes us through suffering and why. He places us in His loving hands (fireproof pottery), allows trials and suffering into our lives (fire), in order for His glory to be revealed and for us to become more like Him (reflection!).
I had heard this analogy before. But while reading my devotions this week, the author mentioned that it's possible to reject this refining. Jeremiah 6:29-30 says, "The bellows blow fiercely to burn away the lead with fire, but the refining goes on in vain; the wicked are not purged out. They are called rejected silver, because the Lord has rejected them." He heats up our lives to purify us and bring glory to Himself, but if He can't find purity in our lives, He rejects those.
I still don't know the big picture...the real WHY behind what happened with Carina. But I sure don't want to miss it. What could God be doing in me, and through me, that would cost me so much? Whatever it is, it will be glorious!
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
Heaven
This week's devotion has been on Heaven. I've come to realize a few things. A few things about myself, as well as a few things about God. I love it when some of His many mysteries are revealed! It makes me feel like I'm heading in the right direction.
Something I had to see about myself is that I can't wait to get to heaven. But the thing I had to admit to myself is, where I am so excited to see Jesus, meet with the disciples, chat with Mary and Esther, and singing in the most AMAZING choral group imaginable, I am even more anxious to meet Carina. I have never admitted that to myself until this week, let alone tell anyone else about this desire. Is it wrong? Is it wrong to have a deeper desire for heaven just because my daughter is there? Shouldn't my deep desire to get there be solely because Jesus is there?
This week, the author of my devotional --who lost two babies-- gave me some peace. It's not wrong. I shouldn't feel guilty. Heaven is more real to me now. Before it was just a place I knew I would go, and really did desire to be. But now, I want it more. And God uses this desire to make me more aware of Him. Quoting from the author, "Our inner longings are from God to reveal inner emptiness and need for Him and His love." I long to be with my daughter, as well as my other family members who have passed away. And in that longing, I am drawing closer to God and what He has planned for me.
At the end of the Narnia chronicles, C.S. Lewis writes that as the Narnians died, they found themselves in a wonderful new land, reunited with each other and Aslan. He says, "They were beginning Chapter One of the great story for which no one on Earth has read, which goes on forever, in which every chapter is better than the one before."
Today is the 28th. It's been 5 months since Carina was born. I came across an email to my mom last December where I was bouncing baby name ideas off her. I miss her. I will always miss her. And I will have that desire to hold her and love her until I see her again. It's the separation that is the hardest. But when someone passes away, God puts a little bit of heaven in our hearts so we will never settle for anything less than what He has in store for us there. I can't wait to start Chapter One in the book no one has read. Where each chapter is better than the one before. What will that be like? My daughter already gets to start that book. And all those in heaven are seeing the big picture before we are.
I am looking forward to heaven. And everything, and everyone, that will be there.
Something I had to see about myself is that I can't wait to get to heaven. But the thing I had to admit to myself is, where I am so excited to see Jesus, meet with the disciples, chat with Mary and Esther, and singing in the most AMAZING choral group imaginable, I am even more anxious to meet Carina. I have never admitted that to myself until this week, let alone tell anyone else about this desire. Is it wrong? Is it wrong to have a deeper desire for heaven just because my daughter is there? Shouldn't my deep desire to get there be solely because Jesus is there?
This week, the author of my devotional --who lost two babies-- gave me some peace. It's not wrong. I shouldn't feel guilty. Heaven is more real to me now. Before it was just a place I knew I would go, and really did desire to be. But now, I want it more. And God uses this desire to make me more aware of Him. Quoting from the author, "Our inner longings are from God to reveal inner emptiness and need for Him and His love." I long to be with my daughter, as well as my other family members who have passed away. And in that longing, I am drawing closer to God and what He has planned for me.
At the end of the Narnia chronicles, C.S. Lewis writes that as the Narnians died, they found themselves in a wonderful new land, reunited with each other and Aslan. He says, "They were beginning Chapter One of the great story for which no one on Earth has read, which goes on forever, in which every chapter is better than the one before."
Today is the 28th. It's been 5 months since Carina was born. I came across an email to my mom last December where I was bouncing baby name ideas off her. I miss her. I will always miss her. And I will have that desire to hold her and love her until I see her again. It's the separation that is the hardest. But when someone passes away, God puts a little bit of heaven in our hearts so we will never settle for anything less than what He has in store for us there. I can't wait to start Chapter One in the book no one has read. Where each chapter is better than the one before. What will that be like? My daughter already gets to start that book. And all those in heaven are seeing the big picture before we are.
I am looking forward to heaven. And everything, and everyone, that will be there.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Going Through The Bins
This past week I dug into Autumn's closet and pulled out bin after bin of outgrown clothes I'd been saving.
See, I do this multi-family indoor yard sale twice a year and there's another one in a few weeks. And since Ken and I are looking to move a bit closer to our families and our church, I know we'll probably need to sort through our belongings and downsize. No need to take ALL our clutter somewhere else. And chances are, we'll be in a smaller house so it's good motivation to de-clutter our lives. That being said, I had about 10 bins of outgrown clothes in Autumn's closet. They've been taking up space, but I'd saved them for when we had another baby and if it was a girl.
It was time to go through the bins.
It was hard to open them up and pull out outfit after outfit, remembering the way Autumn looked in them and knowing no future child of mine would ever wear them again. Imagining how Carina would look in some of them with her adorable arms and legs that were so much shorter than her sister's. The local Christian radio station was on and, of course, played song after song that soothed my heartache. I didn't cry, though. I teared up, but the tears never fell. It's all a process, and the process is becoming normal.
We are getting an updated family picture this weekend. It seems odd to say that. It won't really be updated because Carina won't be in it. But it will show how much Autumn has grown in 2 years (the last family picture we did was when she turned 1), and how much weight Ken and I have gained, and how different my hair looks now...those updates will be there. But this picture won't be able to show the update in my heart. Or the update in my spiritual life. Or the update on how much more I love Autumn. Sometimes I wish pictures could do that.
I'm still rummaging through the emotional bins, too. Feelings I've had and put away, pictures I haven't looked at in a few months, the heartbeat bear I haven't listened to in awhile. It's important to remember and be sad as long as I don't stay there in the bins. I'm so thankful for this time in my life. I'm thankful for the memories, good and bad. I can revisit the bins when I need to and continue moving forward because I know the end of the story. But for now, I'm still living it.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Third Month
Much has happened in the last month. Birthdays, anniversaries, beginning of school, going back to work, vacations...Life is moving on. It's strange, actually, to think of myself moving on. I still have my moments of tears. Things hit me once in awhile but those times are really coming less and less. My mind was actually so preoccupied this past Sunday I had completely forgotten what the date was. I had thought about it earlier in the week..that the 28th was coming up...that it had been 3 short months yet sometimes it feels like forever ago. Is that a good thing or bad thing? Does it make me a bad mommy? Or is it good that I wasn't at all sad on that day?
I had planned on starting to work a little. Autumn is 3 now and I thought it would be good for her to go to pre-school a few days a week and my friend who runs a daycare offered to let me work there at the same time Autumn was attending. A few days a week...bringing in a little extra money..why not? My first day ended up being my last day. I thought I was emotionally ready to do something like this; be away from Autumn and take care of other peoples kids. Turns out I'm not. I cried nearly the whole day. Being away from Autumn was harder than I thought, even though she was only two doors away. I know she will eventually go to school and I will have to let her go, but it had only been 2 months since Carina was born and I wasn't ready. I didn't realize how much of a salve Autumn has been to my broken heart. It also hit me that I shouldn't even BE there. I should be home with a 2 month old. I should be seeing her first smiles. Hearing her cries. I should be drinking decaffeinated coffee. I should be dealing with sleepless nights. I shouldn't be raising someone else's children. So I quit. I gave it a whole day, but I knew I wouldn't be able to come back. Maybe in a few more months, but I'm not going to push myself. I don't break down like that very often, but maybe that was my body's way of telling me I NEED to do that once in awhile.
For my birthday weekend my sister and I got matching tattoos honoring Carina's memory. She had the most perfect little feet so my sister suggested we get her footprints as a tattoo. We spent a month or so working with the artist to design how we wanted it to look and here's what we came up with:
I actually hugged the tattoo artist when she was done. I'm sure they don't get many people who do that. She knows about Carina and was very honored to help us design something special. Autumn talks about the footprints and I remind her that they are Carina's. She sort of understands that they were from "the baby in mommy's tummy," and she says she wants to get footprints too. I told her not until she's 30. Just like dating.
As each day, each week, each month passes by, I get a little stronger. My normal is different but it's becoming more of a normal. I'm different, my parenting is different, my marriage is different, my faith is different. But my God is the same.
I had planned on starting to work a little. Autumn is 3 now and I thought it would be good for her to go to pre-school a few days a week and my friend who runs a daycare offered to let me work there at the same time Autumn was attending. A few days a week...bringing in a little extra money..why not? My first day ended up being my last day. I thought I was emotionally ready to do something like this; be away from Autumn and take care of other peoples kids. Turns out I'm not. I cried nearly the whole day. Being away from Autumn was harder than I thought, even though she was only two doors away. I know she will eventually go to school and I will have to let her go, but it had only been 2 months since Carina was born and I wasn't ready. I didn't realize how much of a salve Autumn has been to my broken heart. It also hit me that I shouldn't even BE there. I should be home with a 2 month old. I should be seeing her first smiles. Hearing her cries. I should be drinking decaffeinated coffee. I should be dealing with sleepless nights. I shouldn't be raising someone else's children. So I quit. I gave it a whole day, but I knew I wouldn't be able to come back. Maybe in a few more months, but I'm not going to push myself. I don't break down like that very often, but maybe that was my body's way of telling me I NEED to do that once in awhile.
For my birthday weekend my sister and I got matching tattoos honoring Carina's memory. She had the most perfect little feet so my sister suggested we get her footprints as a tattoo. We spent a month or so working with the artist to design how we wanted it to look and here's what we came up with:
I actually hugged the tattoo artist when she was done. I'm sure they don't get many people who do that. She knows about Carina and was very honored to help us design something special. Autumn talks about the footprints and I remind her that they are Carina's. She sort of understands that they were from "the baby in mommy's tummy," and she says she wants to get footprints too. I told her not until she's 30. Just like dating.
As each day, each week, each month passes by, I get a little stronger. My normal is different but it's becoming more of a normal. I'm different, my parenting is different, my marriage is different, my faith is different. But my God is the same.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Faith Like A Child
I was able to spend the day with my mom and little sisters a few weeks ago, driving around on several different errands. Isabel and Olivia were laughing and playing with Autumn, looking at a little book with family pictures in it. Autumn showed them her picture along with family members and said something about her sister. So Olivia asked, "Does Autumn have a little sister?" I answered, "Yes, Carina is her sister," and wondered if that would be all to the conversation. Neither of them had ever really talked to me about Carina. "Oh yeah," she said. Then they started talking about Autumn's birthday and one of them asked if Carina would have a birthday in heaven. I honestly told them I wasn't sure, but I believed Jesus would celebrate it in some way because it's the day she came home to Him. They agreed that would probably be what happened. Then they asked if she would grow up, or if she would stay a baby? And what toys would she play with --big kid toys or baby toys? I said I don't know if babies who die when they are babies stay little or if they grow up, and I told them she probably gets to play with whatever toys she wants to play with.
This type of conversation went on for awhile and then Isie asked, "So how did she get to heaven?" Death is such a hard thing to explain to children. They understand about someone not being here on earth, and how now they are in heaven with Jesus, but they have a hard time understanding the process of 'how.' I did my best to explain. "Well, Jesus came and took her," I said, not sure if I should go into what a "soul" is or anything. They didn't understand. "So, did you see Jesus?" they asked. "No, I didn't see Him, but I know He was there." They asked if He was invisible and I tried to explain that it was more like His spirit came and took her spirit, and we can't see spirits, but we can feel them. I don't think I explained that part very well, but all they said was, "So....how does that work exactly?" I thought about it for a minute and answered, "Well, Jesus gave me a big hug and just...took her." Isie spoke up and said, "Or maybe the angels came and got her." I quietly said, "Well I don't think He sent the angels for Carina. I think that Jesus knew it was a very special job and wanted to do it Himself." They all agreed and that was the end of the conversation.
I expect to have more conversations like this with the girls and I hope they will always hold onto their childlike faith. The 'not having to see what we believe in order for it to be true' kind of faith. I pray it for myself and I pray it for you because it's the only way to survive the unknown.
This type of conversation went on for awhile and then Isie asked, "So how did she get to heaven?" Death is such a hard thing to explain to children. They understand about someone not being here on earth, and how now they are in heaven with Jesus, but they have a hard time understanding the process of 'how.' I did my best to explain. "Well, Jesus came and took her," I said, not sure if I should go into what a "soul" is or anything. They didn't understand. "So, did you see Jesus?" they asked. "No, I didn't see Him, but I know He was there." They asked if He was invisible and I tried to explain that it was more like His spirit came and took her spirit, and we can't see spirits, but we can feel them. I don't think I explained that part very well, but all they said was, "So....how does that work exactly?" I thought about it for a minute and answered, "Well, Jesus gave me a big hug and just...took her." Isie spoke up and said, "Or maybe the angels came and got her." I quietly said, "Well I don't think He sent the angels for Carina. I think that Jesus knew it was a very special job and wanted to do it Himself." They all agreed and that was the end of the conversation.
I expect to have more conversations like this with the girls and I hope they will always hold onto their childlike faith. The 'not having to see what we believe in order for it to be true' kind of faith. I pray it for myself and I pray it for you because it's the only way to survive the unknown.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Milestones
Today is Autumn's birthday. She's three already! It's hard to believe it sometimes. So much has happened in her short life.
I recently 'met' another mother who also lost her sweet girl to the same fatal disorder that Carina had. She has a blog as well and I was reading through it and am amazed at how similar our situations were/are. She was writing about milestones in one of her posts. How most people celebrate the moments their kids learn something new; their milestones. I was able to celebrate those "firsts" for Autumn. Her first smile. Her first laugh. Her first poop explosion....(okay MAYbe I didn't celebrate this one). Her first time lifting her head. Her first crawling experience. Her first cheerio. Her first M&M (not too far away from her first Cheerio). Her first steps. Her first words. Her first song. Her first time saying "I love you" without being prompted. Her first 'accident free' day in potty training. Her first swim lesson....Three years of firsts.
Firsts that we don't get to see with Carina.
My new friend put it bluntly, but perfectly: We experience firsts in different ways now. First holiday without her. First 6 months without her. First year without her. First smiles we don't get to see. First teeth. First steps. First dates. Missed milestones.
It's not something I wanted to think about today. Honestly, I just wanted to think about Autumn today. And when I'm done with this post, that's exactly what I'm going to do. I'm done (hopefully) with the tears for the rest of today. Though they do tend to sneak up on you.
One thing I will say, as I think about "firsts..." Carina's first breath was breathed in heaven. What better milestone is that?
I recently 'met' another mother who also lost her sweet girl to the same fatal disorder that Carina had. She has a blog as well and I was reading through it and am amazed at how similar our situations were/are. She was writing about milestones in one of her posts. How most people celebrate the moments their kids learn something new; their milestones. I was able to celebrate those "firsts" for Autumn. Her first smile. Her first laugh. Her first poop explosion....(okay MAYbe I didn't celebrate this one). Her first time lifting her head. Her first crawling experience. Her first cheerio. Her first M&M (not too far away from her first Cheerio). Her first steps. Her first words. Her first song. Her first time saying "I love you" without being prompted. Her first 'accident free' day in potty training. Her first swim lesson....Three years of firsts.
Firsts that we don't get to see with Carina.
My new friend put it bluntly, but perfectly: We experience firsts in different ways now. First holiday without her. First 6 months without her. First year without her. First smiles we don't get to see. First teeth. First steps. First dates. Missed milestones.
It's not something I wanted to think about today. Honestly, I just wanted to think about Autumn today. And when I'm done with this post, that's exactly what I'm going to do. I'm done (hopefully) with the tears for the rest of today. Though they do tend to sneak up on you.
One thing I will say, as I think about "firsts..." Carina's first breath was breathed in heaven. What better milestone is that?
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Pictures and Pearls
Today is the 28th. This day of the month will always be in my mind and heart. Eventually I will come upon a month that the 28th doesn't cause me pain, but for now I am very mindful of this date and its significance.
Two months have passed. Two months of good days and bad. Two months of tears and smiles. Two months of processing and grieving and moving forward. Two months of sharing. Two months of roller-coaster emotions. Two months of remembering. None of it I would change.
Some of what I have learned these past few months is refreshing and some of it is painful, but all of it is good. This past week in my devotional book, I've been studying death. This may seem like a heavy topic, but I'm going to try to lighten it up a bit.
Death is scary. There, I said it. Most people try so hard to fight it, delay it, ignore it...but you can't. And only One person overcame it. And whoever knows that One person, knows the truth about death. It's not scary at all. It's something to celebrate. Ecclesiastes 7:1 says, "The day of death is better than the day of birth." The day we are born, we enter a painful, sinful, sad, depraved world. But the day we die, those who are in Christ enter a beautiful, love-filled, pain-free place full of the glory of Christ. Not just for a time...but forever. What better reason to celebrate?
Everyone knows where shadows come from. They are the blocking of light. Psalm 23 talks about the 'valley of the shadow of death.' When we're in that place of shadows, and can't see the light, it doesn't mean the light isn't there or that it's no longer shining. When we find ourselves in the shadows, it's there we find Christ beside us, chasing the fear away. Fear of the unknown. Fear of judgement. Fear of pain for you or those left behind after death. Whatever the fear is, He is there comforting us, reminding us that the sun is still there and it's still shining. When we know Christ, that 'valley' becomes a peaceful place of comfort. It's here we are most aware of God's presence.
But who wants to celebrate a loss? Not me! Not in my head, I don't. I don't want to go back to that moment when the doctor told us about Carina's diagnosis. I don't want to remember the countless tears I've cried. Who wants to do that? But in my heart, I know better. I know that the celebration is not in the pain of losing her. The celebration is in the joy of knowing her future. Death is not the end of the story. It's a continuation for many. A beginning for Carina.
On July 4, we watched a beautiful fireworks display and I remembered that the last time I watched the fireworks was when I was pregnant with Autumn. It made me, of course, think of Carina and how I wished she could see the beautiful colors lighting the sky. Then as quickly as I had those thoughts, in my mind's eye I could see Carina sitting on Jesus' lap watching the same display we were, her eyes shining with excitement. I pray that I never let myself dwell on missing her. Of course I miss her, I'm not saying I don't. That will never change. But I don't want to dwell on "the missing." I don't ever want to wish she was here with me. Not really. I miss her. And of course I wish things were different. But I don't really. You see, she's never known anything but love. Never known pain. Never known sadness. Never known loss. She's only ever known love. Why would I want to wish otherwise for her? I would never want her to experience sadness or pain, and she would if she were here. So I can't allow myself to wish she were here. I miss her. Everyday I miss her. But everyday my heart remembers how much better she's got it where she is. How lucky she is!
So who wants to celebrate death? Not me. So I don't consider it 'death' that I am celebrating. We will always remember Carina on the 28th of May. And for some time I will remember her on the 28th of the month. But I celebrate it as her "Heaven Day." Not a birth day. Not a death day. Heaven day.
Happy Heaven Day, Carina!
Two months have passed. Two months of good days and bad. Two months of tears and smiles. Two months of processing and grieving and moving forward. Two months of sharing. Two months of roller-coaster emotions. Two months of remembering. None of it I would change.
Some of what I have learned these past few months is refreshing and some of it is painful, but all of it is good. This past week in my devotional book, I've been studying death. This may seem like a heavy topic, but I'm going to try to lighten it up a bit.
Death is scary. There, I said it. Most people try so hard to fight it, delay it, ignore it...but you can't. And only One person overcame it. And whoever knows that One person, knows the truth about death. It's not scary at all. It's something to celebrate. Ecclesiastes 7:1 says, "The day of death is better than the day of birth." The day we are born, we enter a painful, sinful, sad, depraved world. But the day we die, those who are in Christ enter a beautiful, love-filled, pain-free place full of the glory of Christ. Not just for a time...but forever. What better reason to celebrate?
Everyone knows where shadows come from. They are the blocking of light. Psalm 23 talks about the 'valley of the shadow of death.' When we're in that place of shadows, and can't see the light, it doesn't mean the light isn't there or that it's no longer shining. When we find ourselves in the shadows, it's there we find Christ beside us, chasing the fear away. Fear of the unknown. Fear of judgement. Fear of pain for you or those left behind after death. Whatever the fear is, He is there comforting us, reminding us that the sun is still there and it's still shining. When we know Christ, that 'valley' becomes a peaceful place of comfort. It's here we are most aware of God's presence.
But who wants to celebrate a loss? Not me! Not in my head, I don't. I don't want to go back to that moment when the doctor told us about Carina's diagnosis. I don't want to remember the countless tears I've cried. Who wants to do that? But in my heart, I know better. I know that the celebration is not in the pain of losing her. The celebration is in the joy of knowing her future. Death is not the end of the story. It's a continuation for many. A beginning for Carina.
On July 4, we watched a beautiful fireworks display and I remembered that the last time I watched the fireworks was when I was pregnant with Autumn. It made me, of course, think of Carina and how I wished she could see the beautiful colors lighting the sky. Then as quickly as I had those thoughts, in my mind's eye I could see Carina sitting on Jesus' lap watching the same display we were, her eyes shining with excitement. I pray that I never let myself dwell on missing her. Of course I miss her, I'm not saying I don't. That will never change. But I don't want to dwell on "the missing." I don't ever want to wish she was here with me. Not really. I miss her. And of course I wish things were different. But I don't really. You see, she's never known anything but love. Never known pain. Never known sadness. Never known loss. She's only ever known love. Why would I want to wish otherwise for her? I would never want her to experience sadness or pain, and she would if she were here. So I can't allow myself to wish she were here. I miss her. Everyday I miss her. But everyday my heart remembers how much better she's got it where she is. How lucky she is!
So who wants to celebrate death? Not me. So I don't consider it 'death' that I am celebrating. We will always remember Carina on the 28th of May. And for some time I will remember her on the 28th of the month. But I celebrate it as her "Heaven Day." Not a birth day. Not a death day. Heaven day.
Happy Heaven Day, Carina!
Friday, July 8, 2011
Being Used
I read something interesting yesterday. It was the story of when Mary went to visit her cousin Elizabeth. Elizabeth told her she (Mary) was blessed among women. That she was so amazing because she believed what God told her. The next verses are what has come to be known as Mary's Song. Mary says, "My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior..." "...For the Mighty One has done great things for me--holy is His name." She was full of hope for the future. She was also full of joy for being chosen to be used by God in such a way.
Later on in the story, Mary and Joseph take Jesus to the temple to be blessed. A man, Simeon, took Jesus and blessed him. He also prophesied saying Jesus would be rejected by many, but there would also be those who believed in him. I imagine he looked deep into Mary's eyes and added, "And a sword will pierce your own soul too." I'm sure Mary didn't know what he meant by that at the time, but I'm sure she remembered the old man's words echoing through her heart as she watched her son dying on the cross. As the Roman soldier pierced Jesus' side with a sword to ensure He was dead, did her soul feel pierced as well? I know it did. That pain was a 'soul pain.' A pain that can be used.
Finding out about Carina's diagnosis, choosing to continue our pregnancy, carrying her as long as we could, and losing her, have all been stages of 'soul pain' for me. A pain that can be used.
One of the first things I wanted to do after Carina was born was get back to church. Being able to worship with my church family. Worship is funny. It doesn't require that we understand or approve of what God is currently doing in our lives. It only requires a heart that has a desire to trust God. And worshiping through pain is some of the sweetest to His ears.
People have noticed this about me. I don't promote myself or my situation, but nearly everyone knows and they are watching me. Some from a distance, some close up, but I know they're all watching. I know they're curious, but I also know they're questioning how they would handle things if it were them. They are pushed, in their own lives, to demand more of themselves in their own spiritual walk. I am being used. My pain is being used. It's not being wasted. This 'soul pain' is helping others get closer to God. It's been so humbling to hear how my words and the testimony of my life has been touching people's lives.
I've been asked by many if I'm going to do something with this blog. Put it in book form or manuscript form...to get Carina's story out there for others who could benefit from hearing it. I can only answer as Mary did. My soul magnifies the Lord. He has done great things for me. Holy is His name. I'm thankful I was chosen to be used. I don't want this 'soul pain' to be wasted. Whatever that means for me and my story. He gets the glory.
Later on in the story, Mary and Joseph take Jesus to the temple to be blessed. A man, Simeon, took Jesus and blessed him. He also prophesied saying Jesus would be rejected by many, but there would also be those who believed in him. I imagine he looked deep into Mary's eyes and added, "And a sword will pierce your own soul too." I'm sure Mary didn't know what he meant by that at the time, but I'm sure she remembered the old man's words echoing through her heart as she watched her son dying on the cross. As the Roman soldier pierced Jesus' side with a sword to ensure He was dead, did her soul feel pierced as well? I know it did. That pain was a 'soul pain.' A pain that can be used.
Finding out about Carina's diagnosis, choosing to continue our pregnancy, carrying her as long as we could, and losing her, have all been stages of 'soul pain' for me. A pain that can be used.
One of the first things I wanted to do after Carina was born was get back to church. Being able to worship with my church family. Worship is funny. It doesn't require that we understand or approve of what God is currently doing in our lives. It only requires a heart that has a desire to trust God. And worshiping through pain is some of the sweetest to His ears.
People have noticed this about me. I don't promote myself or my situation, but nearly everyone knows and they are watching me. Some from a distance, some close up, but I know they're all watching. I know they're curious, but I also know they're questioning how they would handle things if it were them. They are pushed, in their own lives, to demand more of themselves in their own spiritual walk. I am being used. My pain is being used. It's not being wasted. This 'soul pain' is helping others get closer to God. It's been so humbling to hear how my words and the testimony of my life has been touching people's lives.
I've been asked by many if I'm going to do something with this blog. Put it in book form or manuscript form...to get Carina's story out there for others who could benefit from hearing it. I can only answer as Mary did. My soul magnifies the Lord. He has done great things for me. Holy is His name. I'm thankful I was chosen to be used. I don't want this 'soul pain' to be wasted. Whatever that means for me and my story. He gets the glory.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Seven Times Seventy
It has been one month already. I can't decide if it's gone fast or slow. It's just gone.
I have been a few days behind on my reading and devotions, which have been marking the days for me. I missed the devotional for June 23...it was our original due date and I just tried to keep myself busy that day instead of dwelling on anything that would bring me pain.
Unfortunately the pain found me.
I was browsing a famous social networking site and came across something that made me laugh. It was innocent, and it made me smile, and I was thankful for something that would bring light to my day. So I 'liked' it. Had I known the hurt that would inevitably cause me, I would have ignored my simple action and moved on to another site. But I didn't and it did. Someone got offended that I 'liked' this joke, (which wasn't off-colored, offensive, or anything...it was a funny comment someone else made that made me laugh), and then proceeded to spew poisonous darts at me regarding Carina, just to hurt me. But the two situations, this joke and Carina, had absolutely nothing to do with each other. This person simply wanted to hurt me. I think what made it hurt the most is that this came from someone I know very well. Someone who has crossed the line with me and my family before, but never this badly.
My first, "Gibbs-gut" reaction was that this person needed a good 'beat down.' My second reaction, realizing that I couldn't physically accomplish the first reaction, was to blast them all over the social networking site. My third reaction, however, won over....say nothing. Let others read what they said, and hear what they said, and tell them what hideous people they are for speaking such things. But they were smart and deleted the post before anyone else could see it.
Needless to say, I felt extremely wronged. I was shocked that it came from someone I know well. I was hurt. And I wanted them to feel and understand their mistake. All that day, Ken thought of a million things we could say. I thought of hurtful things I could do to this person so they would understand the pain they caused me. I was angry. And I had every right to be.
Then my brother reminded me that hurt people hurt people. I love my brother. He reminded me that anger is okay, and yes I had a right to be angry. I had done nothing wrong and yet I was the target for attack. Be angry and sin not. It's not fair.
A few days went by and I was listening to the radio. There is a song out called "Seven times Seventy." All about forgiveness. You know the passage...someone asks Jesus how many times should they forgive someone who's wronged them...Seven? And Jesus answers, "No...seventy times seven." Not that we should keep a tally and when people reach 490 they're toast....but that we should continually be forgiving others who wrong us. No matter what. This is very, very hard for me. Especially when my heart is so fragile right now. And I'll tell you something...6 months ago, I would have responded very differently.
Well, this song came on the radio. It's not a bad song, but it's never been one of my favorites. Probably because I struggle greatly with the concept. The singer was live on the radio singing the song and he sang it slower, with no instruments other than his guitar. It was beautiful and passionate. And I cried. I knew I had to forgive this person. I can't say I was ready to do it at that moment, however. This hurt was a giant hurt and it had punched a hole in my already broken heart.
That night I was catching up on my devotionals and the one I was supposed to read on June 23rd was all about being co-heirs with Christ. And as sons and daughters of God, we share in Christ's sufferings in order that we may also share in His glory. Belonging to God's Kingdom means being willing to suffer, not just as victims of our circumstances, but as one who chooses to endure persecution for the sake of the Kingdom. Now I know that type of persecution mainly refers to attacks on your claim to be a Christian, but I believe it can also mean spiritual persecution. Persecution where your integrity and witness are tested. You have the choice to retaliate, justified retaliation, or you can choose to let Christ shine through you and turn the other cheek. Obedience is not easy. But the reward is so great!
I am not this amazing person. I am human. Flawed. I struggle so much with forgiveness. Especially when I know that I know that I know that I'm right. But it's not about being right. It's about being like my Savior. I can't honestly say I'm over the need for judgement on this person, but I'm moving on. They're not getting one more second of my time. I know what matters and that's something they can't take away.
I have been a few days behind on my reading and devotions, which have been marking the days for me. I missed the devotional for June 23...it was our original due date and I just tried to keep myself busy that day instead of dwelling on anything that would bring me pain.
Unfortunately the pain found me.
I was browsing a famous social networking site and came across something that made me laugh. It was innocent, and it made me smile, and I was thankful for something that would bring light to my day. So I 'liked' it. Had I known the hurt that would inevitably cause me, I would have ignored my simple action and moved on to another site. But I didn't and it did. Someone got offended that I 'liked' this joke, (which wasn't off-colored, offensive, or anything...it was a funny comment someone else made that made me laugh), and then proceeded to spew poisonous darts at me regarding Carina, just to hurt me. But the two situations, this joke and Carina, had absolutely nothing to do with each other. This person simply wanted to hurt me. I think what made it hurt the most is that this came from someone I know very well. Someone who has crossed the line with me and my family before, but never this badly.
My first, "Gibbs-gut" reaction was that this person needed a good 'beat down.' My second reaction, realizing that I couldn't physically accomplish the first reaction, was to blast them all over the social networking site. My third reaction, however, won over....say nothing. Let others read what they said, and hear what they said, and tell them what hideous people they are for speaking such things. But they were smart and deleted the post before anyone else could see it.
Needless to say, I felt extremely wronged. I was shocked that it came from someone I know well. I was hurt. And I wanted them to feel and understand their mistake. All that day, Ken thought of a million things we could say. I thought of hurtful things I could do to this person so they would understand the pain they caused me. I was angry. And I had every right to be.
Then my brother reminded me that hurt people hurt people. I love my brother. He reminded me that anger is okay, and yes I had a right to be angry. I had done nothing wrong and yet I was the target for attack. Be angry and sin not. It's not fair.
A few days went by and I was listening to the radio. There is a song out called "Seven times Seventy." All about forgiveness. You know the passage...someone asks Jesus how many times should they forgive someone who's wronged them...Seven? And Jesus answers, "No...seventy times seven." Not that we should keep a tally and when people reach 490 they're toast....but that we should continually be forgiving others who wrong us. No matter what. This is very, very hard for me. Especially when my heart is so fragile right now. And I'll tell you something...6 months ago, I would have responded very differently.
Well, this song came on the radio. It's not a bad song, but it's never been one of my favorites. Probably because I struggle greatly with the concept. The singer was live on the radio singing the song and he sang it slower, with no instruments other than his guitar. It was beautiful and passionate. And I cried. I knew I had to forgive this person. I can't say I was ready to do it at that moment, however. This hurt was a giant hurt and it had punched a hole in my already broken heart.
That night I was catching up on my devotionals and the one I was supposed to read on June 23rd was all about being co-heirs with Christ. And as sons and daughters of God, we share in Christ's sufferings in order that we may also share in His glory. Belonging to God's Kingdom means being willing to suffer, not just as victims of our circumstances, but as one who chooses to endure persecution for the sake of the Kingdom. Now I know that type of persecution mainly refers to attacks on your claim to be a Christian, but I believe it can also mean spiritual persecution. Persecution where your integrity and witness are tested. You have the choice to retaliate, justified retaliation, or you can choose to let Christ shine through you and turn the other cheek. Obedience is not easy. But the reward is so great!
I am not this amazing person. I am human. Flawed. I struggle so much with forgiveness. Especially when I know that I know that I know that I'm right. But it's not about being right. It's about being like my Savior. I can't honestly say I'm over the need for judgement on this person, but I'm moving on. They're not getting one more second of my time. I know what matters and that's something they can't take away.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
What Happens in St. Augustine Stays in St. Augustine...sort of
Let me begin by thanking everyone who prayed for us this past weekend. Our trip went well. We had a few times where things didn't go so well, but that's what makes for good memories. I have found that the stories we share that don't contain some kind of sarcasm, humor, or problem that needs solving, aren't really worth the re-telling.
We left for St. Augustine on Friday around 6pm. After dropping off Autumn at my parents house, saying our goodbyes, and giving last minute instruction for our potty trainee, we were off. The drive up wasn't bad, although I missed the exit for the 24-hour Starbucks, and we arrived at the beach resort my sister had booked for us around 10:15pm. I went in with my reservation paperwork and saw the line of about 4 other families waiting to check in. One of witch was a young couple with a daughter about Autumn's age running around. It pulled on my heartstrings a bit because I assumed Autumn would be doing the very same thing at 10:30 at night if we let her. It also was a painful reminder of why we were there.
I waited patiently for my turn, hoping I wouldn't have a problem checking in since my sister was the one who paid for the room. I looked around the lobby, noticing the door behind the front desk was hanging off its hinges and the frazzled, blond lady checking people in had something to say about everything. Suddenly, I heard a giant "SCREECH!" I looked around and saw a bird cage, floor to ceiling, with a parrot inside. I guess this is what makes for good beach decor...? Finally it was my turn. I stepped forward and told her my name, mentioning my sister was the one who paid for the room. She checked us in without a problem, gave me my room keys and I headed back to the car. We drove to the side of the hotel where she said our room should be and couldn't find it. Then we figured it was inside so we parked and got our bags. We found the room and let ourselves inside. As we turned on the light I took in our surroundings and noticed something on the floor. Upon further inspection, I noticed a lot of somethings on the floor. It had not been vacuumed at all. And it wasn't just paper or dirt....it was toenail clippings. I wouldn't even take off my shoes. I walked into the bathroom and saw a hair in the sink and the toilet had not been scrubbed. I came back into the room where Ken was already laying on the bed watching TV, waiting for my inspection to be over. I noticed the TV had duct tape holding it together. I walked over to the window where our "deluxe ocean view" should be and noticed the giant sand dune that blocked our "deluxe ocean view." I turned to Ken and said, "We're not telling Suzy about this." I didn't want to stay but the front desk was so busy and it was already 11pm by this time, so we stayed. We planned to get up early and look for somewhere else to stay.
They say everything looks better in the morning. This hotel was not one of those things. The sun simply emphasized its flaws. Ken was excited, however, because it looked like there was a surfing competition going on at the beach. He soon found out it was a kids competition, but he made a mental note to come back with a surf board the next time we were there. We packed our bags and vacated the room and drove to the nearby Publix for some breakfast. I ran in for some muffins and saw the Starbucks next door. Heaven! Ken had gone over to the Subway for breakfast so I walked down to meet him. We talked about what our plan for the day was and started calling around for another place to stay for the night. The first two places were booked but we got lucky with the third. A nice place not too far from where we were staying and very close to downtown St. Augustine. We drove over so I could inspect the room before we booked it, saw that it was a fine place to stay, and headed back to cancel at the other hotel.
On the way, I called my mom to check in and she asked how the hotel was. Ken laughed because he knew I couldn't go without telling her the truth. So I started to tell her about the door off its hinge in the lobby, the giant bird cage, and then mentioned the floor not being vacuumed and she said, "Wait a minute...let me get your sister." I winced and said, "She's there already??" Oh yes, she was there and ready to fight with the hotel people before I even mentioned the word 'toenail.' I told her we were on our way back to get a refund for the second night and possibly a discount on the first. She said if they give us a problem to let her know.
We arrived at the hotel and I went inside, ready to be nice but firm. I started to calmly explain that we weren't happy with the way our room was when we arrived the night before, would be checking out, and would like a refund on the second night and possibly a discount on the first. She cocked her head and asked what was wrong with the room. So I told her. I said the floor hadn't been vacuumed, the bathroom hadn't been cleaned, and before I could mention the holes in the comforter or the toenail clippings, she said, "Really? I'm really surprised that you would have that kind of complaint from that part of the hotel." My jaw dropped on the floor. THAT part of the hotel? I thought. So there are parts of the hotel that you rent out to actual human beings that you wouldn't be surprised to hear that this happened? I kept my mouth shut, however, and went on to say, "And there were also holes in the blankets on the bed." You would have thought I told her I found a rat or something. She freaked out. She said, "Oh my goodness! You need to write all of this down and I need to tell the housekeeping staff!" So I said okay and wrote everything down, even adding that with what they charge for the rooms, they should be able to buy a new TV instead of using duct tape. She discounted us $20 for the first night and refunded the entire amount for the second, not charging us a cancellation fee. We left happy and began our search for the perfect spot to place Carina's ashes.
Ken and I had talked about looking around the Lighthouse or the beach or maybe at the Fountain of Youth where we remembered there being a few spots that might work. Before we made it to any of those places, we drove by a little farmers market that was near the St. Augustine Amphitheater. We thought it was at the Anastasia State Park so we went in and checked it out. The theater gates were open so we went in and walked around. No one was there and it was so peaceful. There were two ledges near the front of the stage area that had a bunch of trees and they were blocked by railings about waist high. Both Ken and I thought this would be a great place for Carina. Beautiful, peaceful, and the occasional concert to enjoy. We still had places to check out so we didn't decide right away.
We left and walked all over downtown, asking different vendors and information people if there were any gardens nearby. No luck. We checked out the Catholic church with the giant cross (for those of you who know what I'm referring to) but that didn't feel right to us. We went to the lighthouse but they wouldn't even let us walk on the grounds without paying their fee to get in so we nixed that idea. We found some pretty oak trees gathered around near some water but that didn't feel right either. We both just kept going back to the Amphitheater. So we decided to head back there. We stopped by Publix and bought a beautiful orange-coral colored rose. I looked at the time and it was 4:08pm....the time of Carina's birth. We drove, a little nervously, back to the Amphitheater, not sure how we were going to do what we came to do. Should we say something? Should we stay quiet? Should we leave the rose or take it home as a remembrance? Neither of us had any clue. We walked hand in hand down to the front both thinking about how peaceful it felt. Her ashes were in a little black box. We set it down with the rose and took some pictures. Ken opened the box and dug a little hole in the mulch and dirt and poured Carina's ashes in. He covered them up and we took more pictures. He wanted some from the stage of the theater, so he walked away with the camera and his thoughts. I sat on the stage across from where we placed her. When Ken was out of earshot, I sang to her. "I'll love you forever. I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be." It's from the 'Love You Forever' book by Robert Munsch. Autumn and I read it many times while I was pregnant, and it just seemed appropriate to sing it one more time for Carina. As soon as I finished, I heard Ken take a few pictures of me sitting there, staring at the rose. I looked at him and we both smiled sadly. Soon we heard a saxophone begin to play, practicing for the blues festival that was starting nearby. Ken said how she already gets to hear music, took my hand and we sat there crying for a little while. Soon we got up and left, knowing we had found the right spot for her. It was sad and hard, but so healing.
I still have the black box and I took two petals from the rose. They're in the box of memories now. I'll pull them out, along with the pictures we took, and know that someday I'll be able to smell the orange-coral colored roses with my sweet girl as we sing praises to the One who brought us together.
We left for St. Augustine on Friday around 6pm. After dropping off Autumn at my parents house, saying our goodbyes, and giving last minute instruction for our potty trainee, we were off. The drive up wasn't bad, although I missed the exit for the 24-hour Starbucks, and we arrived at the beach resort my sister had booked for us around 10:15pm. I went in with my reservation paperwork and saw the line of about 4 other families waiting to check in. One of witch was a young couple with a daughter about Autumn's age running around. It pulled on my heartstrings a bit because I assumed Autumn would be doing the very same thing at 10:30 at night if we let her. It also was a painful reminder of why we were there.
I waited patiently for my turn, hoping I wouldn't have a problem checking in since my sister was the one who paid for the room. I looked around the lobby, noticing the door behind the front desk was hanging off its hinges and the frazzled, blond lady checking people in had something to say about everything. Suddenly, I heard a giant "SCREECH!" I looked around and saw a bird cage, floor to ceiling, with a parrot inside. I guess this is what makes for good beach decor...? Finally it was my turn. I stepped forward and told her my name, mentioning my sister was the one who paid for the room. She checked us in without a problem, gave me my room keys and I headed back to the car. We drove to the side of the hotel where she said our room should be and couldn't find it. Then we figured it was inside so we parked and got our bags. We found the room and let ourselves inside. As we turned on the light I took in our surroundings and noticed something on the floor. Upon further inspection, I noticed a lot of somethings on the floor. It had not been vacuumed at all. And it wasn't just paper or dirt....it was toenail clippings. I wouldn't even take off my shoes. I walked into the bathroom and saw a hair in the sink and the toilet had not been scrubbed. I came back into the room where Ken was already laying on the bed watching TV, waiting for my inspection to be over. I noticed the TV had duct tape holding it together. I walked over to the window where our "deluxe ocean view" should be and noticed the giant sand dune that blocked our "deluxe ocean view." I turned to Ken and said, "We're not telling Suzy about this." I didn't want to stay but the front desk was so busy and it was already 11pm by this time, so we stayed. We planned to get up early and look for somewhere else to stay.
They say everything looks better in the morning. This hotel was not one of those things. The sun simply emphasized its flaws. Ken was excited, however, because it looked like there was a surfing competition going on at the beach. He soon found out it was a kids competition, but he made a mental note to come back with a surf board the next time we were there. We packed our bags and vacated the room and drove to the nearby Publix for some breakfast. I ran in for some muffins and saw the Starbucks next door. Heaven! Ken had gone over to the Subway for breakfast so I walked down to meet him. We talked about what our plan for the day was and started calling around for another place to stay for the night. The first two places were booked but we got lucky with the third. A nice place not too far from where we were staying and very close to downtown St. Augustine. We drove over so I could inspect the room before we booked it, saw that it was a fine place to stay, and headed back to cancel at the other hotel.
On the way, I called my mom to check in and she asked how the hotel was. Ken laughed because he knew I couldn't go without telling her the truth. So I started to tell her about the door off its hinge in the lobby, the giant bird cage, and then mentioned the floor not being vacuumed and she said, "Wait a minute...let me get your sister." I winced and said, "She's there already??" Oh yes, she was there and ready to fight with the hotel people before I even mentioned the word 'toenail.' I told her we were on our way back to get a refund for the second night and possibly a discount on the first. She said if they give us a problem to let her know.
We arrived at the hotel and I went inside, ready to be nice but firm. I started to calmly explain that we weren't happy with the way our room was when we arrived the night before, would be checking out, and would like a refund on the second night and possibly a discount on the first. She cocked her head and asked what was wrong with the room. So I told her. I said the floor hadn't been vacuumed, the bathroom hadn't been cleaned, and before I could mention the holes in the comforter or the toenail clippings, she said, "Really? I'm really surprised that you would have that kind of complaint from that part of the hotel." My jaw dropped on the floor. THAT part of the hotel? I thought. So there are parts of the hotel that you rent out to actual human beings that you wouldn't be surprised to hear that this happened? I kept my mouth shut, however, and went on to say, "And there were also holes in the blankets on the bed." You would have thought I told her I found a rat or something. She freaked out. She said, "Oh my goodness! You need to write all of this down and I need to tell the housekeeping staff!" So I said okay and wrote everything down, even adding that with what they charge for the rooms, they should be able to buy a new TV instead of using duct tape. She discounted us $20 for the first night and refunded the entire amount for the second, not charging us a cancellation fee. We left happy and began our search for the perfect spot to place Carina's ashes.
Ken and I had talked about looking around the Lighthouse or the beach or maybe at the Fountain of Youth where we remembered there being a few spots that might work. Before we made it to any of those places, we drove by a little farmers market that was near the St. Augustine Amphitheater. We thought it was at the Anastasia State Park so we went in and checked it out. The theater gates were open so we went in and walked around. No one was there and it was so peaceful. There were two ledges near the front of the stage area that had a bunch of trees and they were blocked by railings about waist high. Both Ken and I thought this would be a great place for Carina. Beautiful, peaceful, and the occasional concert to enjoy. We still had places to check out so we didn't decide right away.
We left and walked all over downtown, asking different vendors and information people if there were any gardens nearby. No luck. We checked out the Catholic church with the giant cross (for those of you who know what I'm referring to) but that didn't feel right to us. We went to the lighthouse but they wouldn't even let us walk on the grounds without paying their fee to get in so we nixed that idea. We found some pretty oak trees gathered around near some water but that didn't feel right either. We both just kept going back to the Amphitheater. So we decided to head back there. We stopped by Publix and bought a beautiful orange-coral colored rose. I looked at the time and it was 4:08pm....the time of Carina's birth. We drove, a little nervously, back to the Amphitheater, not sure how we were going to do what we came to do. Should we say something? Should we stay quiet? Should we leave the rose or take it home as a remembrance? Neither of us had any clue. We walked hand in hand down to the front both thinking about how peaceful it felt. Her ashes were in a little black box. We set it down with the rose and took some pictures. Ken opened the box and dug a little hole in the mulch and dirt and poured Carina's ashes in. He covered them up and we took more pictures. He wanted some from the stage of the theater, so he walked away with the camera and his thoughts. I sat on the stage across from where we placed her. When Ken was out of earshot, I sang to her. "I'll love you forever. I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be." It's from the 'Love You Forever' book by Robert Munsch. Autumn and I read it many times while I was pregnant, and it just seemed appropriate to sing it one more time for Carina. As soon as I finished, I heard Ken take a few pictures of me sitting there, staring at the rose. I looked at him and we both smiled sadly. Soon we heard a saxophone begin to play, practicing for the blues festival that was starting nearby. Ken said how she already gets to hear music, took my hand and we sat there crying for a little while. Soon we got up and left, knowing we had found the right spot for her. It was sad and hard, but so healing.
I still have the black box and I took two petals from the rose. They're in the box of memories now. I'll pull them out, along with the pictures we took, and know that someday I'll be able to smell the orange-coral colored roses with my sweet girl as we sing praises to the One who brought us together.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Need vs. Want
I had a headache most of the day on Thursday. Probably from all the crying I did that morning.
Wednesday night I had realized that the funeral director had not brought back the beautiful little pink dress we bought for Carina that she wore at the hospital, nor the little yellow blanket my mother crocheted that she was wrapped in. I emailed him that night and asked about them, thinking he simply forgot to bring them. He called me first thing Thursday morning and told me that Carina had been cremated in them. I had to bite my lip so I wouldn't scream at him on the phone or burst out crying...I couldn't decide which to do at the moment. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I told him we had asked that those things be returned and he said he didn't get that message. It's very possible that he didn't. He wasn't the one to pick up Carina from the hospital. But I would have thought they would ask me about them...just to make sure. I don't really remember the rest of our conversation but I think he said something about how now those things are with her forever (like that was supposed to make it better). I remember even thanking him for calling. I felt numb. I hung up and couldn't stop the tears. Those things I wanted back so badly. They were my last link to her. My heart was breaking in a way it hadn't yet. A piece I didn't think I could ever get repaired. I called my mom and she let me cry. When I was done, she gently reminded me that I have so many other wonderful memories in the box and that it would be okay. I knew she was right. But my heart was still broken.
I was supposed to have a friend come over and visit about an hour after I got the phone call and I almost canceled. I'm so glad I didn't. She came over and we chit chatted for about an hour and then she asked the inevitable question, "How are you doing?" I smiled sadly and told her what had happened that morning. When I was done, through tears, I said (kind of flippantly), "Maybe God has some reason that I wasn't supposed to have those things." At that moment I didn't believe my own words. But I said them, hoping that by saying them out loud, I would believe them.
My friend started telling me about a section of verses she had been reading. About how God gives us what we need, not necessarily what we want. As she said that, I immediately felt in my heart that God didn't want me to have those things because I didn't need them. He knew I would use them to grieve the wrong way. He knew I would probably sit and breathe in her scent from the blanket until it disappeared. I would finger the bloodstains on her little pink dress until it faded or was washed away by my tears. It would be so easy for me to stay in that sad place if I had those items.
Another verse my sweet friend reminded me of is Proverbs 16:9. "In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps." My plan was just that...to sit and hold onto those things as long as I could. Just like I hold the heartbeat bear. The difference in those things is that the heartbeat bear reminds me of her life. I hear that strong beat and remember the happy memories. I remember life. The blanket and dress would only remind me of her death. That day. I want remember the day, but I don't need to stay there. He knew what I needed.
I had my own plans for that stuff. But the Lord lights the path I should take. My ways are not my own. So I give Him my broken hallelujah.
Wednesday night I had realized that the funeral director had not brought back the beautiful little pink dress we bought for Carina that she wore at the hospital, nor the little yellow blanket my mother crocheted that she was wrapped in. I emailed him that night and asked about them, thinking he simply forgot to bring them. He called me first thing Thursday morning and told me that Carina had been cremated in them. I had to bite my lip so I wouldn't scream at him on the phone or burst out crying...I couldn't decide which to do at the moment. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I told him we had asked that those things be returned and he said he didn't get that message. It's very possible that he didn't. He wasn't the one to pick up Carina from the hospital. But I would have thought they would ask me about them...just to make sure. I don't really remember the rest of our conversation but I think he said something about how now those things are with her forever (like that was supposed to make it better). I remember even thanking him for calling. I felt numb. I hung up and couldn't stop the tears. Those things I wanted back so badly. They were my last link to her. My heart was breaking in a way it hadn't yet. A piece I didn't think I could ever get repaired. I called my mom and she let me cry. When I was done, she gently reminded me that I have so many other wonderful memories in the box and that it would be okay. I knew she was right. But my heart was still broken.
I was supposed to have a friend come over and visit about an hour after I got the phone call and I almost canceled. I'm so glad I didn't. She came over and we chit chatted for about an hour and then she asked the inevitable question, "How are you doing?" I smiled sadly and told her what had happened that morning. When I was done, through tears, I said (kind of flippantly), "Maybe God has some reason that I wasn't supposed to have those things." At that moment I didn't believe my own words. But I said them, hoping that by saying them out loud, I would believe them.
My friend started telling me about a section of verses she had been reading. About how God gives us what we need, not necessarily what we want. As she said that, I immediately felt in my heart that God didn't want me to have those things because I didn't need them. He knew I would use them to grieve the wrong way. He knew I would probably sit and breathe in her scent from the blanket until it disappeared. I would finger the bloodstains on her little pink dress until it faded or was washed away by my tears. It would be so easy for me to stay in that sad place if I had those items.
Another verse my sweet friend reminded me of is Proverbs 16:9. "In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps." My plan was just that...to sit and hold onto those things as long as I could. Just like I hold the heartbeat bear. The difference in those things is that the heartbeat bear reminds me of her life. I hear that strong beat and remember the happy memories. I remember life. The blanket and dress would only remind me of her death. That day. I want remember the day, but I don't need to stay there. He knew what I needed.
I had my own plans for that stuff. But the Lord lights the path I should take. My ways are not my own. So I give Him my broken hallelujah.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Ready or Not
On Friday, Ken and I will be heading up to St. Augustine, Florida. I have a final job to do as Carina's mother. Ken and I spent our 1-year anniversary in St. Augustine and it holds a special place in our hearts. It will soon hold a special place for another reason.
When we first found out about Carina's diagnosis, after the initial shock wore off and we realized we had to start making some plans, we decided to have her cremated. Then came the decision of what to do after that. I knew I didn't want to have her ashes sitting in some jar. (No offense to anyone who has done that, or wants to do that, it's just not something I wanted.) I also didn't want to put them just anywhere. Ken suggested the beach but I knew every time we would go to that beach, or passed by that beach, it would be a sad remembrance for me. I wanted to put her ashes somewhere that would be a purposeful place. Somewhere we could go and visit with a purpose. Somewhere close to our hearts. And so we decided on St. Augustine.
This weekend we will drive up and find the perfect spot. Some secluded, shady, flowery, beautiful place meant just for her. Maybe by the water because I know she would have loved the water just like her sister and Daddy. It's silly, I know, because she's not really going to be there. And no matter how beautiful a spot we find, it can never compare with the beauty of heaven. I know it's not really for her, but for me. I need to pretend. I need to pretend that part of her is still here. Just for awhile. I'm still not ready to let go.
The funeral director came by again today to drop off the death certificate and some little card that tells what date the cremation took place. I want to burn them both. But I'll keep them in the special box my brother made for all things Carina related because every little piece I have of her life, good and bad, is so precious. Have you ever played the "if there was a fire what's the one thing I would grab after everyone got out safely" game? Over the years my answer has changed. Today I would grab the box. I don't think I'll change my mind anymore. I need those memories. I don't ever want to forget what she looked like. What she smelled like. Her perfect feet. Her dark hair. I'm just not ready to let go.
As a Christian, grief looks different. I think I've said that before. Tears look the same but they come from a heart of hope instead of a heart of fear. You can't be comforted from someone who hasn't been there. That's why you can always turn to Jesus. He has been overwhelmed by grief. He has felt the pain of loss; felt like all the air is sucked away. He has felt it all and He gets it. Seeing Jesus as someone who has felt sorrows just like us is a confirmation that tears don't mean "lack of faith." They are actually a companion to authentic faith. Hebrews 5:8 says, "Although He was God's Son, He learned obedience through what He suffered."
Obedience is a continual process. It takes work. Commitment. Faith. Tears are a byproduct. I'm thankful for the opportunity to be obedient. To share my faith. To have the tears. But I'm not ready to let go yet.
When we first found out about Carina's diagnosis, after the initial shock wore off and we realized we had to start making some plans, we decided to have her cremated. Then came the decision of what to do after that. I knew I didn't want to have her ashes sitting in some jar. (No offense to anyone who has done that, or wants to do that, it's just not something I wanted.) I also didn't want to put them just anywhere. Ken suggested the beach but I knew every time we would go to that beach, or passed by that beach, it would be a sad remembrance for me. I wanted to put her ashes somewhere that would be a purposeful place. Somewhere we could go and visit with a purpose. Somewhere close to our hearts. And so we decided on St. Augustine.
This weekend we will drive up and find the perfect spot. Some secluded, shady, flowery, beautiful place meant just for her. Maybe by the water because I know she would have loved the water just like her sister and Daddy. It's silly, I know, because she's not really going to be there. And no matter how beautiful a spot we find, it can never compare with the beauty of heaven. I know it's not really for her, but for me. I need to pretend. I need to pretend that part of her is still here. Just for awhile. I'm still not ready to let go.
The funeral director came by again today to drop off the death certificate and some little card that tells what date the cremation took place. I want to burn them both. But I'll keep them in the special box my brother made for all things Carina related because every little piece I have of her life, good and bad, is so precious. Have you ever played the "if there was a fire what's the one thing I would grab after everyone got out safely" game? Over the years my answer has changed. Today I would grab the box. I don't think I'll change my mind anymore. I need those memories. I don't ever want to forget what she looked like. What she smelled like. Her perfect feet. Her dark hair. I'm just not ready to let go.
As a Christian, grief looks different. I think I've said that before. Tears look the same but they come from a heart of hope instead of a heart of fear. You can't be comforted from someone who hasn't been there. That's why you can always turn to Jesus. He has been overwhelmed by grief. He has felt the pain of loss; felt like all the air is sucked away. He has felt it all and He gets it. Seeing Jesus as someone who has felt sorrows just like us is a confirmation that tears don't mean "lack of faith." They are actually a companion to authentic faith. Hebrews 5:8 says, "Although He was God's Son, He learned obedience through what He suffered."
Obedience is a continual process. It takes work. Commitment. Faith. Tears are a byproduct. I'm thankful for the opportunity to be obedient. To share my faith. To have the tears. But I'm not ready to let go yet.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
777-JESUS
Kids are pretty amazing. And they often say amazing things.
My dad was saying nighttime prayers with my little sisters just a few days after Carina was born, and they suddenly said, "We need to make a phone call." Dad was a little taken back and asked who they wanted to call. Isie, who is 8, replied, "We need to call 777-JESUS. We need to speak with Him." My dad, at first, thought they were just being silly, but realized soon that they were completely serious. He asked why they felt they needed to call Him. They said, "We need to ask Him to let Carina come back and play with us." Dad let that thought sink in for a minute and then said, "Well you know, whenever we want to talk to Jesus, we don't have to use a phone. We can just talk to Him." They nodded and waited. "And I understand that you want to be able to play with Carina. But it wouldn't really be fair for us to ask her to come back." Of course they wanted to know why. Dad answered, "Because in heaven, she is completely whole and healthy. She'll never be sad. She'll never even cry. She gets to be with Jesus and she's so, so happy." My youngest sister, Livie, who is 6, had just recently had the stomach bug. My dad turned to her and said, "Livie, there is no throwing up in heaven." Her eyes got real big and she said, "Oh that's a great place."
Dad continued and said, "But you know what we can do...we can ask Jesus if Carina can show us all around when we get there. Because she's going to know all the cool places to see, and all the neat people to meet, and all the fun things to do! So we can ask Jesus for that."
They really seemed to understand and agreed that it would be better for Carina to stay where she was. Then Livie said, "Daddy, we'll get pretty old before we get to see her again, won't we?" And dad answered, "Yeah it probably will be awhile. But we can ask Jesus to help us while we wait."
It's so cool that they get that. If they didn't have a basic foundation of heaven and who Jesus is, Carina would be lost to them forever. Instead, they now have hope.
Yesterday was particularly hard for me. I heard from the funeral director and he told me that Carina's cremation was going to take place yesterday. I knew it would be this week, but I didn't know what day. Right before he called, I had been looking at some pictures of her. So most of the day after that, my emotions were on high alert. I read my bible and prayed. Took a shower (which is the best place to cry, by the way), and just let my heart miss her.
Later that night, Ken turned the radio on while I was getting Autumn ready for bed. The Steven Curtis Chapman song, Cinderella, came on. It's the song that played on the radio as soon as Ken and I got in the car after hearing Carina's diagnosis from our first ultrasound. I cry every time I hear it now. The song right after it was Strong Enough, by Matthew West. I had heard it many times before, but never really listened to the words. Have you done that? The words were a perfect reminder to me last night.
He sings, "You must think I'm strong to give me what I'm going through. Well forgive me if I'm wrong, but this looks like more than I can do on my own. I know I'm not strong enough to be everything that I'm supposed to be, I give up. I'm not strong enough. Hands of mercy won't you cover me, Lord right now I'm asking you to be strong enough. Well, maybe that's the point; to reach the point of giving up. 'Cause when I'm finally at rock bottom that's when I start looking up and reaching out. 'Cause I'm broken down to nothing but I'm still holding on to the one thing: You are God and You are strong when I am weak!"
Excuse me...I have to make a phone call.
My dad was saying nighttime prayers with my little sisters just a few days after Carina was born, and they suddenly said, "We need to make a phone call." Dad was a little taken back and asked who they wanted to call. Isie, who is 8, replied, "We need to call 777-JESUS. We need to speak with Him." My dad, at first, thought they were just being silly, but realized soon that they were completely serious. He asked why they felt they needed to call Him. They said, "We need to ask Him to let Carina come back and play with us." Dad let that thought sink in for a minute and then said, "Well you know, whenever we want to talk to Jesus, we don't have to use a phone. We can just talk to Him." They nodded and waited. "And I understand that you want to be able to play with Carina. But it wouldn't really be fair for us to ask her to come back." Of course they wanted to know why. Dad answered, "Because in heaven, she is completely whole and healthy. She'll never be sad. She'll never even cry. She gets to be with Jesus and she's so, so happy." My youngest sister, Livie, who is 6, had just recently had the stomach bug. My dad turned to her and said, "Livie, there is no throwing up in heaven." Her eyes got real big and she said, "Oh that's a great place."
Dad continued and said, "But you know what we can do...we can ask Jesus if Carina can show us all around when we get there. Because she's going to know all the cool places to see, and all the neat people to meet, and all the fun things to do! So we can ask Jesus for that."
They really seemed to understand and agreed that it would be better for Carina to stay where she was. Then Livie said, "Daddy, we'll get pretty old before we get to see her again, won't we?" And dad answered, "Yeah it probably will be awhile. But we can ask Jesus to help us while we wait."
It's so cool that they get that. If they didn't have a basic foundation of heaven and who Jesus is, Carina would be lost to them forever. Instead, they now have hope.
Yesterday was particularly hard for me. I heard from the funeral director and he told me that Carina's cremation was going to take place yesterday. I knew it would be this week, but I didn't know what day. Right before he called, I had been looking at some pictures of her. So most of the day after that, my emotions were on high alert. I read my bible and prayed. Took a shower (which is the best place to cry, by the way), and just let my heart miss her.
Later that night, Ken turned the radio on while I was getting Autumn ready for bed. The Steven Curtis Chapman song, Cinderella, came on. It's the song that played on the radio as soon as Ken and I got in the car after hearing Carina's diagnosis from our first ultrasound. I cry every time I hear it now. The song right after it was Strong Enough, by Matthew West. I had heard it many times before, but never really listened to the words. Have you done that? The words were a perfect reminder to me last night.
He sings, "You must think I'm strong to give me what I'm going through. Well forgive me if I'm wrong, but this looks like more than I can do on my own. I know I'm not strong enough to be everything that I'm supposed to be, I give up. I'm not strong enough. Hands of mercy won't you cover me, Lord right now I'm asking you to be strong enough. Well, maybe that's the point; to reach the point of giving up. 'Cause when I'm finally at rock bottom that's when I start looking up and reaching out. 'Cause I'm broken down to nothing but I'm still holding on to the one thing: You are God and You are strong when I am weak!"
Excuse me...I have to make a phone call.
Monday, June 6, 2011
What Does Grief Look Like?
I have been wondering this past week if I am grieving "properly." Although I don't know what that means. It's something I wondered about before Carina was born as well; what does grief look like? I honestly can say I don't know. I do know it looks differently to everyone. For me, I go through my day as I normally would, and small windows of sadness creep in. I cry for a moment, and then I stop and continue on, almost as if it didn't happen. I still know it happened, and if I remember it again later my reaction is the same, but somehow I'm able to keep moving on.
My pastor says I need to "go with my emotions." This is what my emotions are doing; changing. I have up moments, where I'm able to laugh (actually laugh!!), and down moments where I can't actually believe what happened, and middle moments where I end up most of the time; neither happy nor sad. I just 'am.' I'm back to being "okay" at these times. So I just "go" with them.
I have really been enjoying (am I even allowed to say I'm enjoying anything?) this book, The One Year Book of Hope. It's helping me (I say helping but I really mean forcing me to focus) pick up my bible on a more regular basis. All these verses and things the author is bringing to light are really helping me process. I do feel like I've been preparing myself for these feelings for awhile, but the author is helping me organize them. It's kind of hard to explain. She is starting out the book just acknowledging the brokenhearted feeling. I have definitely had this feeling for quite some time, and it's come back again and again since May 28. She describes how she dealt with this emotion. Not that it has to be fixed, or 'over' in any certain amount of time. Just that it is there and you need to understand it, allow yourself to feel the loss, and see what the bible has to say about it.
I am still sad. But I don't stay sad. And sometimes I wonder if that's a good thing or bad thing? I feel like I should be sad a lot more than I am. And yet, as a Christian, I know that's not where God wants me to stay. It's so easy to say, "I'm good," or "I'm fine," or "Hanging in there," or even, "I'm okay." It's a knee-jerk response for me, but it's also a true response. I really am doing well, considering all that we've been through in the past 4 months. I really am able to carry a conversation without crying (doesn't mean I always do), or laugh when something is funny, and I really am still able to find joy in life. And sometimes I feel almost guilty. Like I shouldn't be able to find any happiness so soon after the loss of my sweet child. But just as quickly as that thought appears, another one comes. One that speaks deep in my heart and says, "Carina is happy. She's whole and she's perfect and she's happy. Why shouldn't you be, too?" And the guilt goes away for the moment.
I guess this is how grief looks for me. So if you see me laughing, don't worry and wonder if I'm handling everything okay. If I'm doing my logical, to the point, drill sergeant type deal, remember I'm not stuffing my emotions. This is just how it looks for me. This is how my heart is healing. Time heals. Jesus heals. But I don't ever expect to stop grieving in some way. I just expect it to keep changing.
Thank you for letting me be real. "I will never forget this awful time, as I grieve over my loss. Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: The unfailing love of the Lord never ceases! His mercies never come to and end." Lamentations 3:20-22
Friday, June 3, 2011
Don't Forget The Manna
I'm starting to read this book called, "The One Year Book Of Hope." In the introduction, the author has also just lost a child. She asks her sister-in-law how you get through the loss? How do you get through the grief? Her sister answered, "Manna." Such a perfect answer!
When the Israelites were wandering the desert, they had to depend on God daily for their sustenance; manna. Just as they had to depend on it daily, so do I. I have to depend on Him daily to get me through my grief.
I tend to be a "ritual" person. I get up, get Autumn's breakfast, fix Ken his lunch, eat....my day starts pretty much the same. The middle sometimes changes, but it doesn't vary much. Being ritualistic is not what will get me through my day. I need the manna. And the thing about manna is, you can't store it up. Just as the children of Israel couldn't store it up. They needed a new supply daily. I am determined to remember my daily need for Him. Only His word and His strength are unchanging.
Don't forget the manna.
When the Israelites were wandering the desert, they had to depend on God daily for their sustenance; manna. Just as they had to depend on it daily, so do I. I have to depend on Him daily to get me through my grief.
I tend to be a "ritual" person. I get up, get Autumn's breakfast, fix Ken his lunch, eat....my day starts pretty much the same. The middle sometimes changes, but it doesn't vary much. Being ritualistic is not what will get me through my day. I need the manna. And the thing about manna is, you can't store it up. Just as the children of Israel couldn't store it up. They needed a new supply daily. I am determined to remember my daily need for Him. Only His word and His strength are unchanging.
Don't forget the manna.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Days Going By
We are so blessed.
I was having a particularly hard day yesterday thinking about my girl. It's been hard to feel the physical pain yet not have the joy of a newborn to take its place. It's been hard to see my changed body that holds all the memories of Carina. It's been hard, sometimes, even seeing Autumn. Carina had her lips. Then she smiles, or sings, or laughs with those lips...and my heart is so torn. I want to smile and sing and laugh with her, at the same time I think how unfair it is that Carina can't do those things with us. I know she's being loved and taken care of in a way I never could, and that our family members there with her are making sure she is singing and laughing and smiling. But it's hard. One of these times happened yesterday with Autumn and she caught me crying. She reached over and wiped my tears saying, "Don't cry, Momma. Don't cry." Then she started singing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star (because that song makes everything better), as she continued to wipe my tears and smile at me. She is such a sweet girl with a tender heart. She knows we are sad, doesn't understand why, but does whatever her 2 year old heart can think of to fix it. And then, just like that, love poured into my hurt, and I was able to smile and sing with her.
Even though I know that the details of Carina's birth were perfect and planned and I wouldn't change anything, Satan has been badgering me about my decision to not have any fetal monitoring. If we had, we probably would have known that the placenta had ruptured and could have done an emergency C-section to spend a little time with her alive--maybe. But we chose, in advance, not to do that. He tries to make me feel like a bad mommy, but deep down I know that to have chosen differently would have been so selfish on my part. I would have done it for me not for Carina. A friend of ours called yesterday and was just checking in. I hadn't told her how I had been feeling but God must have. She told me how she and her family were praying for us all day Saturday and when they found out that Carina had been born still, they were sad, but had the realization that Carina didn't have to breathe one breath in this sinful world. She has only, and always, known love. She has never felt pain. She breathed in comfort within me and now she breathes in comfort with Jesus. I am so thankful for that!
I ache to hold her again, so I grab the "baby bear" with her heartbeat and just hold it and cry. These moments come a lot, but they don't last long. I know this is because of Christ. He is still carrying me, giving me just the right amount of grace at the perfect time. I have seen the proof of His faithfulness and I will continue to praise Him. Even with the physical pain. Even when I see my changed body. Even when I am all of a sudden struck with sadness. Because those are the times He is the nearest to me.
We are so blessed.
I was having a particularly hard day yesterday thinking about my girl. It's been hard to feel the physical pain yet not have the joy of a newborn to take its place. It's been hard to see my changed body that holds all the memories of Carina. It's been hard, sometimes, even seeing Autumn. Carina had her lips. Then she smiles, or sings, or laughs with those lips...and my heart is so torn. I want to smile and sing and laugh with her, at the same time I think how unfair it is that Carina can't do those things with us. I know she's being loved and taken care of in a way I never could, and that our family members there with her are making sure she is singing and laughing and smiling. But it's hard. One of these times happened yesterday with Autumn and she caught me crying. She reached over and wiped my tears saying, "Don't cry, Momma. Don't cry." Then she started singing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star (because that song makes everything better), as she continued to wipe my tears and smile at me. She is such a sweet girl with a tender heart. She knows we are sad, doesn't understand why, but does whatever her 2 year old heart can think of to fix it. And then, just like that, love poured into my hurt, and I was able to smile and sing with her.
My little sisters asked if Autumn was ever going to be a big sister to anyone. The truth is that she already is. But I know what they're really asking. Is she going to be able to share secrets with someone? Get in trouble with someone? Fight with someone? Have an unexplainable bond with someone? Protect someone with her life? Be a big sister. The truth to that is, I don't know. I don't know what God has in store for our family. But whatever it is, I still believe it will be the best thing for us. He has had our best interests in mind this whole time...why would He stop now?
Even though I know that the details of Carina's birth were perfect and planned and I wouldn't change anything, Satan has been badgering me about my decision to not have any fetal monitoring. If we had, we probably would have known that the placenta had ruptured and could have done an emergency C-section to spend a little time with her alive--maybe. But we chose, in advance, not to do that. He tries to make me feel like a bad mommy, but deep down I know that to have chosen differently would have been so selfish on my part. I would have done it for me not for Carina. A friend of ours called yesterday and was just checking in. I hadn't told her how I had been feeling but God must have. She told me how she and her family were praying for us all day Saturday and when they found out that Carina had been born still, they were sad, but had the realization that Carina didn't have to breathe one breath in this sinful world. She has only, and always, known love. She has never felt pain. She breathed in comfort within me and now she breathes in comfort with Jesus. I am so thankful for that!
I ache to hold her again, so I grab the "baby bear" with her heartbeat and just hold it and cry. These moments come a lot, but they don't last long. I know this is because of Christ. He is still carrying me, giving me just the right amount of grace at the perfect time. I have seen the proof of His faithfulness and I will continue to praise Him. Even with the physical pain. Even when I see my changed body. Even when I am all of a sudden struck with sadness. Because those are the times He is the nearest to me.
We are so blessed.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
A String of Pearls
Dear Friends,
We are so thankful for all our friends and family’s support throughout our pregnancy. Understandably, we know you all would love to continue your support and shower us with love and possibly gifts. We are very appreciative and want that to be evident. However, rather than having a house-full of flowers, we would rather you direct your monetary giving in another way.
When Carina’s diagnosis first was revealed, I was in touch with another mother, Laura, who had also chosen to carry her baby even though she, too, had a fatal diagnosis. After her daughter,
She then sends out these packages at no charge to the families who are grieving the upcoming loss of their child. Not only does this precious lady send out these packages, but she also is available to talk to, personally, whenever needed. She sends encouraging emails and letters to families and especially to the mothers.
This organization runs completely on donations and we would love for her to be able to continue helping others as she has helped us. If you had planned on sending flowers or any other gifts, please think about donating the money instead to this organization. Because of Laura and A String of Pearls, I had the courage to get in touch with the bereavement counselor at the hospital, who then put me in touch with another counselor who connects families with similar diagnoses. I was then put in touch with another mother whose daughter also had a lethal form of dwarfism. I was able to write to, and form a relationship with, someone just like me. When we didn’t know anyone who had ever walked this same journey, I was able to find someone. And it all began with Laura and A String of Pearls.
Thank you, again, for all of your support, love and continued prayers. If you choose to donate to this amazing organization, you can find all the necessary information on their website: http://stringofpearlsonline.org/
With much love,
Ken and Kristin
Changed For Good
I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you
Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good
It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a hand print on my heart
Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a sky bird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good
A Few Things I Forgot....
When the funeral person from Farley came to meet our pastor and take Carina, it was 9:30pm. He was dressed in a nice suit, very respectful, regardless of the time of day. I felt like that was so special and kind.
Also, I just want you all to know how raw my last post was. I cried through it, was falling asleep while writing, but I wanted to get my heart out and since it was all so fresh, I needed to write it as soon as I could. I love my baby. Thinking about her brings me to tears, as I know it will for many days, weeks, years down the road. I want to keep blogging and journaling about this process because it will be good for me, but also because it will benefit more than just me.
I love you all.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Hello, Goodbye
Our beautiful baby girl, Carina Faith Parks was born still today, May 28, 2011, at 4:08pm. The whole day, from start to finish, was carved out with the very hand of Jesus that we've been holding this whole journey. Let me share with you how our God carried us today.
Ken and I put the last minute items in the car and kissed Autumn goodbye this morning at 7:09am. She was sent to Grammy's for the day with my sister-in-law for a day of fun and playing with her Aunts, who are 6 and 8 years old. It was the best place for her today. We had made the decision not to have Autumn with us today at the hospital. We struggled with it, wanting her to meet Carina yet needing to be able to have 100% of our focus on Carina and Autumn tends to steal the show. But in the end, we decided it best to leave her in a safe, familiar place with people who would shower her with love and attention. I know she didn't worry about us today at all.
Ken and I hit the highway and arrived on Bee Ridge Road at 7:40am, making great time. Ken needed fuel so we stopped at McDonalds, and I "needed" a Starbucks. I had started to feel afraid on the drive up, because of all the unknowns, but I simply breathed a prayer and immediately felt at peace. We got to the hospital right at 8am and Ken dropped me off while he parked the car. I ran (ahem...waddled) up to Triage, not realizing I was to go straight to Labor and Delivery. I got there by 8:10 and they had me hooked up by 8:20. I had my IV and the contraction monitor was saying I was having regular contractions. All our family arrived and the nurse did my ultrasound, checking to make sure Carina's head was still down. (Let me preface some things and say that we chose not to have any fetal monitoring. We decided that unless there was some danger to me to continue vaginally, we would not do a C-section).
Originally they were going to give me a special pill to get my contractions moving, help me dilate more, and get me thinned out, but they checked me and decided to simply break my water. At 9:50am the doctor broke my water. All I will say about that experience is normally a pregnancy fills the bowl they use once. I filled it at LEAST 7 times.
After they broke my water, they checked me and found I was 4cm and 60% effaced. The worry they had about breaking my water is that because there was so much fluid, there was a possibility of the placenta rupturing and tearing away from the uterine wall. As long as I didn't drain quickly, it should be fine. Which it ended up being. Even though so much fluid came out, it was steady instead of all at once. One of the many, MANY blessings we had today.
My contractions slowed down a little but got put back in gear quickly. By 10:30 I was feeling I should get my epidural. I was still only 4 cm, but with as quick as I went with Autumn, they felt I would go quick with Carina and didn't want me to miss the opportunity for me to get the epidural. I had to get a full bag of the IV quickly before the epidural, and that took about 15 minutes. It gave me the shakes pretty badly because my body temperature was 97 and the IV fluid was a cool 72. The anesthesiologist came in and got me set up for my epidural. The process was pretty involved. Because of all my fluid, I had formed a blood clot which made it harder for them to find the right spot to insert the needle. On his second try, he found it. Thankfully, throughout my shakiness and contractions, I was able to remain still. The epidural was given successfully at 11:30 and by 11:45 I was feeling numb. They gave me some pitocin because my contractions slowed way down after that. The nurse got me flipped on my side to allow the baby to continue moving down on her own.
The family all came back in and we talked for a bit, but very soon I grew extremely tired. The nurse explained that since I have not been sleeping well for quite some time because of the pain, once the pain was removed, my body took over and said, "And now you will sleep." And sleep I did. My nurse took control and told everyone I needed to sleep. At 12:30 I fell asleep and didn't wake up till 3pm. As soon as I woke up, very groggy, I saw my mom in the room with me and she told me our nurse asked her to let her know as soon as I woke up because I needed to be checked again. They checked me and I was already 9cm. Now that is the way to have a baby. Get your epidural and fall asleep while your body does the rest. I was still having the shakes pretty bad because, as my nurse explained, even though I was sleeping, my body was still working. So it was behaving similarly to if I had been hiking for 2 hours.
They brought the family in and, even though my epidural was still working, I could now begin to feel the pressure and I could tell my contractions were closer together. Within 15 minutes, they decided to check me again. I was already 10cm. So they brought all the family back in to give me hugs and love. Our amazing pastor prayed and read a scripture that brought us all to tears. Knowing what we were to be facing in such a short time. The time had come.
I started pushing at 3:35 and by 4:08 Carina was born. As soon as they laid her on my chest I asked if she was alive or breathing. The nurse couldn't tell. She got a stethoscope and checked her, hearing nothing. She got a bigger stethoscope, thinking she may have heard a faint sound. She moved Carina to the baby warmer and listened as hard as she could. But there was no sound. There had been no sound. After I delivered the placenta, they determined that it had in fact ruptured away from the uterine wall sometime in the short time I was pushing. I know it had to have happened then, because I felt her kicking all the way up until that time. But since we didn't have any fetal monitoring, we don't know exactly when she passed away.
Our wonderful nurse had her weighed and we were shocked. She weighed 5 lbs 12 oz. They didn't expect her to be more than 3 or 4 lbs! The nurse then brought Carina back to us and let us hold her and talk to her and look at her. She had the most perfect, beautiful features and the cutest feet (no exaggeration). The nurse asked if we wanted her to bathe her for us and we said yes. I was still being stitched up and Ken and I were holding each other's hands and didn't want to let go. We just cried and smiled and talked with our amazing doctor. My epidural was beginning to wear off as he stitched me up, but it lasted just long enough for him to finish. Yet another blessing.
Ken and I talked a little about how even though we wanted to spend some time with Carina alive, we really think it was so merciful that she didn't spend anytime struggling to breathe. We know she didn't suffer. She passed quickly, quietly into Jesus waiting arms just as her body passed quickly, quietly into the doctor's hands. We are 100% sure that this was the most perfect thing to have happened. Praise God! And even as we waited for her to be bathed and for the doctor to finish with me, we had tears, but an amazing peace. I can't even begin to describe it. We just felt so enveloped in love and comfort.
The nurse gave Carina back to us and we just looked her over, every inch. Her eyes never opened, but I believe she still saw us watching her. She heard every word we said to her. We told her about Autumn, about her family, about how special she was and how loved. By 5pm the doctor had finished and gave me a huge hug, saying he'd see me tomorrow. The room cleared and our photographer had arrived. They all gave Ken and I some time alone with Carina and we just continued to talk with her and love her. After about 10 minutes we called the nurse and the photographer back in and began with the pictures. I did very well...until the photographer had me hold her close to me over my shoulder. She smelled so sweet and I just snuggled her and wept. I cried for all the future moments I wouldn't get to snuggle her close like that. I cried because I wished I could hold her forever. But I also wept because my heart needed to. The photographer gave us a few minutes alone and I was able to calm down when she returned, thankful for those precious moments. We got some amazing pictures taken, and were able to shower her with kisses and love. I couldn't get over how much dark hair she had and I was simply mesmerized by her perfect toes.
By 6pm, we were on our way to the recovery room. They had us set up in a huge room with two beds, so Ken was able to be in a bed tonight. They brought our family in and they all spent time holding Carina, weeping, and loving her and us. It was a perfect, God-centered time.
The nurse brought me in some food to eat, which I simply picked at, while I talked with everyone and loved my baby. Our pastor prayed and read another scripture, once again speaking the exact words that were needed. We all sat and talked some more just enjoying the time we all had together.
We were told that the funeral home didn't think the hospital would release Carina's body after 6pm, so we were concerned. We didn't want her to go to the morgue. I know it's not like the morgues on TV, but it bothered me that she'd even be there. The nurse double checked that rule and found out they were able to change it for us. We still wanted Carina's hand prints and footprints, etc, done before we said goodbye, so our pastor stayed with us while we said goodbye to the family. It was around 8pm at this time and our bereavement counselor came in and got all the stuff ready for the keepsakes. The funeral director was called, the keepsakes were done, and by 9:30 it was time for our final goodbyes. We dressed her back in the beautiful pink dress we got for her, making her look like a perfect princess. (She had also been able to wear one of the hats I made for her in the pictures. Everything else ended up being too small. So my first hat attempt that I thought was way too big, ended up being perfect. We didn't have a hat on her after the pictures because we wanted to show off her beautiful dark hair). I kissed her several times, and told her again how much I loved her. I handed her to Ken who did the same. I wrapped her gently in a homemade blanket, and handed her to our pastor who once again prayed with us before leaving with our precious baby.
When they left, Ken and I were alone. We both felt such peace and comfort at the way everything went today. I mentioned again how perfect it was that we didn't have to watch her struggle to breathe. And remember how we didn't get to have any of the three nurses we originally wanted? That, too, turned out to be perfect. One of the nurses we wanted was someone we knew but weren't super close with. Another nurse was a family member whom we love, but when we talked about it, we felt it might have been somewhat awkward because she is family. And the third nurse is not a Christian and would not have been as receptive and responsive when our pastor prayed and read the verses with us. The nurse we had was hand picked by God to be our nurse for today. It just reminded us that even though we plan for things, and think it's really the best thing for us, God knows better. WAY better.
So many things that happened today were God-things. There's no other way to explain it, no other way to see it, no other way to believe. He had His hand all over this day from start to finish. I knew that He was telling us all week that He had seen how today was going to go and had prepared our day to be simply perfect.
I am so incredibly thankful for all the prayers that flooded the throne of God today on our behalf. God heard every one and answered in the beautiful way that only He could. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. And my soul, though it may be heavy, continues to praise Him for the beautiful day He gave us.
Thank you, Jesus, for our baby girl. Thank you for the time You gave us to gaze on Your miracle and just love her. Thank you for Your wisdom in our journey. Thank You for our friends and family. Thank you for Your strength and continued peace.
Ken and I put the last minute items in the car and kissed Autumn goodbye this morning at 7:09am. She was sent to Grammy's for the day with my sister-in-law for a day of fun and playing with her Aunts, who are 6 and 8 years old. It was the best place for her today. We had made the decision not to have Autumn with us today at the hospital. We struggled with it, wanting her to meet Carina yet needing to be able to have 100% of our focus on Carina and Autumn tends to steal the show. But in the end, we decided it best to leave her in a safe, familiar place with people who would shower her with love and attention. I know she didn't worry about us today at all.
Ken and I hit the highway and arrived on Bee Ridge Road at 7:40am, making great time. Ken needed fuel so we stopped at McDonalds, and I "needed" a Starbucks. I had started to feel afraid on the drive up, because of all the unknowns, but I simply breathed a prayer and immediately felt at peace. We got to the hospital right at 8am and Ken dropped me off while he parked the car. I ran (ahem...waddled) up to Triage, not realizing I was to go straight to Labor and Delivery. I got there by 8:10 and they had me hooked up by 8:20. I had my IV and the contraction monitor was saying I was having regular contractions. All our family arrived and the nurse did my ultrasound, checking to make sure Carina's head was still down. (Let me preface some things and say that we chose not to have any fetal monitoring. We decided that unless there was some danger to me to continue vaginally, we would not do a C-section).
Originally they were going to give me a special pill to get my contractions moving, help me dilate more, and get me thinned out, but they checked me and decided to simply break my water. At 9:50am the doctor broke my water. All I will say about that experience is normally a pregnancy fills the bowl they use once. I filled it at LEAST 7 times.
After they broke my water, they checked me and found I was 4cm and 60% effaced. The worry they had about breaking my water is that because there was so much fluid, there was a possibility of the placenta rupturing and tearing away from the uterine wall. As long as I didn't drain quickly, it should be fine. Which it ended up being. Even though so much fluid came out, it was steady instead of all at once. One of the many, MANY blessings we had today.
My contractions slowed down a little but got put back in gear quickly. By 10:30 I was feeling I should get my epidural. I was still only 4 cm, but with as quick as I went with Autumn, they felt I would go quick with Carina and didn't want me to miss the opportunity for me to get the epidural. I had to get a full bag of the IV quickly before the epidural, and that took about 15 minutes. It gave me the shakes pretty badly because my body temperature was 97 and the IV fluid was a cool 72. The anesthesiologist came in and got me set up for my epidural. The process was pretty involved. Because of all my fluid, I had formed a blood clot which made it harder for them to find the right spot to insert the needle. On his second try, he found it. Thankfully, throughout my shakiness and contractions, I was able to remain still. The epidural was given successfully at 11:30 and by 11:45 I was feeling numb. They gave me some pitocin because my contractions slowed way down after that. The nurse got me flipped on my side to allow the baby to continue moving down on her own.
The family all came back in and we talked for a bit, but very soon I grew extremely tired. The nurse explained that since I have not been sleeping well for quite some time because of the pain, once the pain was removed, my body took over and said, "And now you will sleep." And sleep I did. My nurse took control and told everyone I needed to sleep. At 12:30 I fell asleep and didn't wake up till 3pm. As soon as I woke up, very groggy, I saw my mom in the room with me and she told me our nurse asked her to let her know as soon as I woke up because I needed to be checked again. They checked me and I was already 9cm. Now that is the way to have a baby. Get your epidural and fall asleep while your body does the rest. I was still having the shakes pretty bad because, as my nurse explained, even though I was sleeping, my body was still working. So it was behaving similarly to if I had been hiking for 2 hours.
They brought the family in and, even though my epidural was still working, I could now begin to feel the pressure and I could tell my contractions were closer together. Within 15 minutes, they decided to check me again. I was already 10cm. So they brought all the family back in to give me hugs and love. Our amazing pastor prayed and read a scripture that brought us all to tears. Knowing what we were to be facing in such a short time. The time had come.
I started pushing at 3:35 and by 4:08 Carina was born. As soon as they laid her on my chest I asked if she was alive or breathing. The nurse couldn't tell. She got a stethoscope and checked her, hearing nothing. She got a bigger stethoscope, thinking she may have heard a faint sound. She moved Carina to the baby warmer and listened as hard as she could. But there was no sound. There had been no sound. After I delivered the placenta, they determined that it had in fact ruptured away from the uterine wall sometime in the short time I was pushing. I know it had to have happened then, because I felt her kicking all the way up until that time. But since we didn't have any fetal monitoring, we don't know exactly when she passed away.
Our wonderful nurse had her weighed and we were shocked. She weighed 5 lbs 12 oz. They didn't expect her to be more than 3 or 4 lbs! The nurse then brought Carina back to us and let us hold her and talk to her and look at her. She had the most perfect, beautiful features and the cutest feet (no exaggeration). The nurse asked if we wanted her to bathe her for us and we said yes. I was still being stitched up and Ken and I were holding each other's hands and didn't want to let go. We just cried and smiled and talked with our amazing doctor. My epidural was beginning to wear off as he stitched me up, but it lasted just long enough for him to finish. Yet another blessing.
Ken and I talked a little about how even though we wanted to spend some time with Carina alive, we really think it was so merciful that she didn't spend anytime struggling to breathe. We know she didn't suffer. She passed quickly, quietly into Jesus waiting arms just as her body passed quickly, quietly into the doctor's hands. We are 100% sure that this was the most perfect thing to have happened. Praise God! And even as we waited for her to be bathed and for the doctor to finish with me, we had tears, but an amazing peace. I can't even begin to describe it. We just felt so enveloped in love and comfort.
The nurse gave Carina back to us and we just looked her over, every inch. Her eyes never opened, but I believe she still saw us watching her. She heard every word we said to her. We told her about Autumn, about her family, about how special she was and how loved. By 5pm the doctor had finished and gave me a huge hug, saying he'd see me tomorrow. The room cleared and our photographer had arrived. They all gave Ken and I some time alone with Carina and we just continued to talk with her and love her. After about 10 minutes we called the nurse and the photographer back in and began with the pictures. I did very well...until the photographer had me hold her close to me over my shoulder. She smelled so sweet and I just snuggled her and wept. I cried for all the future moments I wouldn't get to snuggle her close like that. I cried because I wished I could hold her forever. But I also wept because my heart needed to. The photographer gave us a few minutes alone and I was able to calm down when she returned, thankful for those precious moments. We got some amazing pictures taken, and were able to shower her with kisses and love. I couldn't get over how much dark hair she had and I was simply mesmerized by her perfect toes.
By 6pm, we were on our way to the recovery room. They had us set up in a huge room with two beds, so Ken was able to be in a bed tonight. They brought our family in and they all spent time holding Carina, weeping, and loving her and us. It was a perfect, God-centered time.
The nurse brought me in some food to eat, which I simply picked at, while I talked with everyone and loved my baby. Our pastor prayed and read another scripture, once again speaking the exact words that were needed. We all sat and talked some more just enjoying the time we all had together.
We were told that the funeral home didn't think the hospital would release Carina's body after 6pm, so we were concerned. We didn't want her to go to the morgue. I know it's not like the morgues on TV, but it bothered me that she'd even be there. The nurse double checked that rule and found out they were able to change it for us. We still wanted Carina's hand prints and footprints, etc, done before we said goodbye, so our pastor stayed with us while we said goodbye to the family. It was around 8pm at this time and our bereavement counselor came in and got all the stuff ready for the keepsakes. The funeral director was called, the keepsakes were done, and by 9:30 it was time for our final goodbyes. We dressed her back in the beautiful pink dress we got for her, making her look like a perfect princess. (She had also been able to wear one of the hats I made for her in the pictures. Everything else ended up being too small. So my first hat attempt that I thought was way too big, ended up being perfect. We didn't have a hat on her after the pictures because we wanted to show off her beautiful dark hair). I kissed her several times, and told her again how much I loved her. I handed her to Ken who did the same. I wrapped her gently in a homemade blanket, and handed her to our pastor who once again prayed with us before leaving with our precious baby.
When they left, Ken and I were alone. We both felt such peace and comfort at the way everything went today. I mentioned again how perfect it was that we didn't have to watch her struggle to breathe. And remember how we didn't get to have any of the three nurses we originally wanted? That, too, turned out to be perfect. One of the nurses we wanted was someone we knew but weren't super close with. Another nurse was a family member whom we love, but when we talked about it, we felt it might have been somewhat awkward because she is family. And the third nurse is not a Christian and would not have been as receptive and responsive when our pastor prayed and read the verses with us. The nurse we had was hand picked by God to be our nurse for today. It just reminded us that even though we plan for things, and think it's really the best thing for us, God knows better. WAY better.
So many things that happened today were God-things. There's no other way to explain it, no other way to see it, no other way to believe. He had His hand all over this day from start to finish. I knew that He was telling us all week that He had seen how today was going to go and had prepared our day to be simply perfect.
I am so incredibly thankful for all the prayers that flooded the throne of God today on our behalf. God heard every one and answered in the beautiful way that only He could. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. And my soul, though it may be heavy, continues to praise Him for the beautiful day He gave us.
Thank you, Jesus, for our baby girl. Thank you for the time You gave us to gaze on Your miracle and just love her. Thank you for Your wisdom in our journey. Thank You for our friends and family. Thank you for Your strength and continued peace.
Friday, May 27, 2011
One
I have been waiting all week for Friday to be here and when it came I was disappointed. I felt like this week had dragged by, but now that Friday is here it feels like it's come too quickly.
But today was a good day. My cousin-in-law (technically that's what she is!) and her son came to visit and we spent an hour or so at the playground enjoying getting to know each other a little better and letting the kids tire themselves out.
Ken was able to come home and eat lunch with us which is always a nice surprise.
A friend of mine dropped off a book I've been wanting to read (Pride and Prejudice, if you're curious. I've seen the movie, but I've been told the book is definitely worth reading).
Another friend came and cleaned the house for me so that when we come home from the hospital we'll come home to a clean house.
My sister-in-law flew in today just so she could help in anyway with kid care. She also did bath duty, dish duty, and played a mean game of Quelf with me (aren't you all jealous?).
The same friend who cleaned my house came back to enjoy some coffee and Quelf with me and my sister-in-law. We had a great girls night. (I sent Ken out with his friends for a night of hockey and laughter. A night we both needed.)
So I was hardly alone today, which was good. I didn't have to worry about tomorrow. And even as I sit here writing, I'm not worrying. I worried all week about saying the right words to Carina when we see her. I worried about the timing of everything. I worried about everything. But I'm okay now. It's such an odd thing...to know exactly what tomorrow holds, but in reality, know nothing. But I'm okay.
A wise friend told me that being a friend to someone, a REAL friend, means living life with them. It means coming over and cleaning someones house. It means making a meal for someone. It means telling them you love them. It means checking in with them regularly. It means saying nothing and just listening. It means allowing them to have an opinion that may differ from yours, and loving them anyway. It means just being there for someone. It means living life with them. I am so blessed to have found my real friends throughout this journey.
Tomorrow we will face the hardest day I think we've ever had to face, but we are able to look on it with joy. Because of Christ, we can have that joy. I know that no matter how much time we have with Carina tomorrow, SHE is the lucky one. She gets to see Jesus.
Praise Him, for He is good.
But today was a good day. My cousin-in-law (technically that's what she is!) and her son came to visit and we spent an hour or so at the playground enjoying getting to know each other a little better and letting the kids tire themselves out.
Ken was able to come home and eat lunch with us which is always a nice surprise.
A friend of mine dropped off a book I've been wanting to read (Pride and Prejudice, if you're curious. I've seen the movie, but I've been told the book is definitely worth reading).
Another friend came and cleaned the house for me so that when we come home from the hospital we'll come home to a clean house.
My sister-in-law flew in today just so she could help in anyway with kid care. She also did bath duty, dish duty, and played a mean game of Quelf with me (aren't you all jealous?).
The same friend who cleaned my house came back to enjoy some coffee and Quelf with me and my sister-in-law. We had a great girls night. (I sent Ken out with his friends for a night of hockey and laughter. A night we both needed.)
So I was hardly alone today, which was good. I didn't have to worry about tomorrow. And even as I sit here writing, I'm not worrying. I worried all week about saying the right words to Carina when we see her. I worried about the timing of everything. I worried about everything. But I'm okay now. It's such an odd thing...to know exactly what tomorrow holds, but in reality, know nothing. But I'm okay.
A wise friend told me that being a friend to someone, a REAL friend, means living life with them. It means coming over and cleaning someones house. It means making a meal for someone. It means telling them you love them. It means checking in with them regularly. It means saying nothing and just listening. It means allowing them to have an opinion that may differ from yours, and loving them anyway. It means just being there for someone. It means living life with them. I am so blessed to have found my real friends throughout this journey.
Tomorrow we will face the hardest day I think we've ever had to face, but we are able to look on it with joy. Because of Christ, we can have that joy. I know that no matter how much time we have with Carina tomorrow, SHE is the lucky one. She gets to see Jesus.
Praise Him, for He is good.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Two....
Two more days. I can’t tell if they’re getting longer or shorter.
I had my
I had to pick up some funeral home papers today (thanks for helping with that P.T!) but I haven’t opened the packet yet. Ken and I both have to sign everything and since we really don’t need to do anything with them until Saturday, I have put them on the table, secretly hoping they will vanish. Or maybe Autumn will use them to color on….anything but having to sign them. I thought I had prepared myself for this step but I haven’t.
On the drive home I heard that Mark Shultz song “He Will Carry Me.” Yeah, I needed to hear that song. I needed to be reminded of that line, “Even when I’m walking through the valley of the shadow, I will hold tight to the hand of Him whose love will comfort me.” It’s kind of where I feel I am right now…the valley of the shadow. But just as I mentioned in yesterdays post, I am just holding His hand for the next few days (and beyond).
Being prepared for what’s to come is good and bad. It’s helped us make purposeful memories. To bond with Carina in a different way than we probably would have. To have prayer support from family and friends. We’ve been able to have things ready for when we meet her (memory photos and keepsakes), and even funeral home arrangements. And, sad to say, it’s good that we haven’t prepared to bring a baby home. The hard part of knowing what’s to come is just that: you know. You have to have some hope that the outcome will be different but…you know. You live each moment tossing between happy and sad.
Today I found Psalm 71 about God’s constant help. It talks about God being with you your whole life and how having hope in Him helps us to keep going and keep serving Him. “But as for me, I will always have hope; I will praise You more and more. My mouth will tell of Your righteousness, of Your salvation all day long, though I know not its measure.” The best part of knowing the outcome? Trust. Hope. Faith. God knew when Ken and I got married that we would be facing this. He had faith in us to continue the pregnancy and give Carina the best life we could and parent her for however much time we had. I have come to understand a tiny bit more about God and I believe that we are in this place so that we can learn to trust better. To praise more. To share the hope we have in Him without shame.
And if that was the only reason He had for giving us Carina…praise be to God.
“But as for me, I will always have hope.”
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Three...
Three days to go.
We got our official date and time for the induction. Saturday the 28th at 8am. They expect everything to go smoothly and don't think I will need a C-section. I have another OB appointment tomorrow where they will check to see if I'm dilated any further. We're praying for three more days. I can tell my body is ready to give up the fight soon. I've been resting all this week which has helped, but I'm moving very slow. I feel bad for Autumn because she constantly wants me to get on the floor and play with her. She doesn't understand that I want to but can't. All she knows is mommy won't play with her and it breaks my heart. But she's such a trooper. She just says, "okay" and continues to amuse herself. Until about 10 minutes goes by and she's asking me to play again.
I went to the hospital today to meet with one of the counselors there and sign some paperwork. I also found out that all three of the nurses we wanted to be there, can't be there for one reason or another. So I met the nurse who will be with us on Saturday. She's a Christian, which is wonderful! We also determined who would do the footprints and hand prints and that sort of thing, and we had to discuss the process of what will happen after.
I've been reading in the Psalms today and since I really didn't know where to begin, I looked up the different topics in the Psalms and started at the beginning: afraid. Psalm 27 was one of the options so I went there. This Psalm is full of lines from some of my favorite worship songs. It's one thing I love about the Psalms. "The Lord is the stronghold of my life--whom shall I fear?" I looked up 'stronghold' and found that it is 'a fortified place or fortress; a place of survival or refuge.' This is the place I want to be in for the next three days. (I need to remain there indefinitely, but I know I need to be there for the next three days.) I have always feared the unknown. God's given me so many areas to trust amidst the unknown in the past 4 months. And I've done my absolute best to do that. It has not always been easy, and as we approach the end of this road, I have found myself trying to rely on my own strength to get me by. I'm constantly reminded that this is bigger than me and being near the end, I'm actually starting to fear the end. This chapter has reminded me that with Christ, I have nothing to fear. He knows what tomorrow holds. He knows what Friday holds. He knows what Saturday holds. He's been there, can see how everything unfolds, and is holding out His hand for me to take, assuring me that everything is okay.
The chapter ends with "I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in this life. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord." I am confident in this. I know that whatever the next three days holds for us...we will see the goodness of the Lord. Whatever happens on Saturday, God's goodness will be evident.
~~Selah
We got our official date and time for the induction. Saturday the 28th at 8am. They expect everything to go smoothly and don't think I will need a C-section. I have another OB appointment tomorrow where they will check to see if I'm dilated any further. We're praying for three more days. I can tell my body is ready to give up the fight soon. I've been resting all this week which has helped, but I'm moving very slow. I feel bad for Autumn because she constantly wants me to get on the floor and play with her. She doesn't understand that I want to but can't. All she knows is mommy won't play with her and it breaks my heart. But she's such a trooper. She just says, "okay" and continues to amuse herself. Until about 10 minutes goes by and she's asking me to play again.
I went to the hospital today to meet with one of the counselors there and sign some paperwork. I also found out that all three of the nurses we wanted to be there, can't be there for one reason or another. So I met the nurse who will be with us on Saturday. She's a Christian, which is wonderful! We also determined who would do the footprints and hand prints and that sort of thing, and we had to discuss the process of what will happen after.
I've been reading in the Psalms today and since I really didn't know where to begin, I looked up the different topics in the Psalms and started at the beginning: afraid. Psalm 27 was one of the options so I went there. This Psalm is full of lines from some of my favorite worship songs. It's one thing I love about the Psalms. "The Lord is the stronghold of my life--whom shall I fear?" I looked up 'stronghold' and found that it is 'a fortified place or fortress; a place of survival or refuge.' This is the place I want to be in for the next three days. (I need to remain there indefinitely, but I know I need to be there for the next three days.) I have always feared the unknown. God's given me so many areas to trust amidst the unknown in the past 4 months. And I've done my absolute best to do that. It has not always been easy, and as we approach the end of this road, I have found myself trying to rely on my own strength to get me by. I'm constantly reminded that this is bigger than me and being near the end, I'm actually starting to fear the end. This chapter has reminded me that with Christ, I have nothing to fear. He knows what tomorrow holds. He knows what Friday holds. He knows what Saturday holds. He's been there, can see how everything unfolds, and is holding out His hand for me to take, assuring me that everything is okay.
The chapter ends with "I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in this life. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord." I am confident in this. I know that whatever the next three days holds for us...we will see the goodness of the Lord. Whatever happens on Saturday, God's goodness will be evident.
~~Selah
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
The Countdown Begins
(Warning: Some TMI may follow in this post.)
I had another ultrasound yesterday. Probably my last. At my last ultrasound, the doctor said my fluid should taper off and possibly decrease. At yesterdays appointment, I was told my fluid had increased. Not a big jump, I'm at 41 now, but still increasing. I don't know if I've ever explained why this is happening. Basically, because Carina's chest is so small, she's unable to drink, breathe, or absorb the fluid in any way. And so it just backs up. And it will keep backing up until she's born. Even though she was practice breathing, she isn't actually taking in much fluid. At our last appointment, the doctor also said she fully expected Carina to come between 36 and 37 weeks. Normally, babies with Achondrogenesis are born between 28-35 weeks, but the doctor knew we had defied all odds up to this point. She was pretty certain, based on how big I'm measuring, that Carina would be here between 36-37 weeks. Tomorrow I will be 35 weeks. 37 weeks put us right at Ken's birthday. He and I had talked about it and, if at all possible, we didn't want to be celebrating a birthday and remembering Carina at the same time every year. Our ultrasound doctor had said she'd like to see us go to 36 weeks, but that all depended on Carina's cooperation. 36 weeks would be right around Memorial Day weekend. Ken and my parents both have that Monday off for the holiday, so we thought, logically, we should ask about being induced that weekend. Some of the benefits of being induced are that we could make sure all the nurses we want there will be there, our photographer will be there, and our family will be there. But even more than those things, in this time of being unable to plan for anything, we can at least feel somewhat in control of something. (It's still ultimately up to God, but that was our thought).
At my OB appointment last week I spoke to my primary doctor and asked him if he thought that was a good idea, and even possible. I wasn't induced with Autumn so I didn't know what to expect or what was required. The OB said he was okay with it, but our ultrasound doctor needed to give her permission.
So at our appointment yesterday, after finding out that the fluid was still increasing, I brought up the possibility of being induced. She actually was in favor of this. Since my fluid keeps increasing, the concern for me and future pregnancies increases as well. When you are measuring bigger than normal, your uterus becomes thinner and thinner. One of the reasons twins are usually born early. This can make it dangerous to carry future pregnancies, and sometimes even impossible, if your uterus gets too thin. So our ultrasound doctor agreed that as long as my body was starting to get ready for delivery (WARNING), meaning I have a "favorable cervix," she was giving the green light for being induced. She said that since I'm already having contractions, Carina's head is still down, this is my second birth, and because Autumn came so quickly, we should be able to have a successful vaginal delivery.
And to top it off, our ultrasound doctor will be on-call that weekend! She has been with us from the beginning and it's so appropriate that she see us through to the end. She expressed her desire to be there for us and that, to me, is amazing. We have such an amazing medical staff! She also told me that there was a big hospital meeting about me last week, just informing everyone of everything so that there wouldn't be any questions or freaking out or worry about what to do with me. Everyone is prepared and ready for our arrival. How incredible is that?
Part of this meeting was to make sure that everyone knew what could possibly go wrong with me. Because I'm measuring so big, there will be a LOT of extra fluid, possibly excessive bleeding, and they worry that my uterus may not contract down on its own after Carina is delivered.
Today's OB appointment was pretty quick. Dr. Cohen came in and measured me (measuring 49 weeks today), and found I am already 2 centimeters dilated, 50% effaced, and he could feel the baby's head. He agreed we should schedule for May 28th. He also mentioned, as did our ultrasound doctor, that it's very possible I won't make it to the 28th. There is no danger to wait that long, but they're all saying my water could break on its own (like it did with Autumn). Since there's so much fluid, if that happens, I have to get right to the hospital. Needless to say, we're praying that Carina waits for the 28th!
So the countdown has begun. 10 days left. (Maybe less). Our ultrasound doctor said she knows I'd stay pregnant till I actually was 49 weeks if I could. And I would. As uncomfortable as I am, as little sleep as I'm getting these days, as hard as it is...I would keep her alive forever if I could. But I can't. But even knowing how very little time is left, I am so thankful for all the time we did have. She wasn't supposed to make it this long. I shouldn't be able to still feel her kicking because of all the fluid. So I'm thankful. We've been able to make so many memories with her. I'm thankful that we have been able to prepare, to some degree. I'm thankful for all the support we've had and continue to have. The clock has always been running, and even though there's an actual number now, I'm still thankful. I'm nervous, excited, afraid, happy, and sad...but thankful. 10 days or less...the time has come to start our goodbyes.
I had another ultrasound yesterday. Probably my last. At my last ultrasound, the doctor said my fluid should taper off and possibly decrease. At yesterdays appointment, I was told my fluid had increased. Not a big jump, I'm at 41 now, but still increasing. I don't know if I've ever explained why this is happening. Basically, because Carina's chest is so small, she's unable to drink, breathe, or absorb the fluid in any way. And so it just backs up. And it will keep backing up until she's born. Even though she was practice breathing, she isn't actually taking in much fluid. At our last appointment, the doctor also said she fully expected Carina to come between 36 and 37 weeks. Normally, babies with Achondrogenesis are born between 28-35 weeks, but the doctor knew we had defied all odds up to this point. She was pretty certain, based on how big I'm measuring, that Carina would be here between 36-37 weeks. Tomorrow I will be 35 weeks. 37 weeks put us right at Ken's birthday. He and I had talked about it and, if at all possible, we didn't want to be celebrating a birthday and remembering Carina at the same time every year. Our ultrasound doctor had said she'd like to see us go to 36 weeks, but that all depended on Carina's cooperation. 36 weeks would be right around Memorial Day weekend. Ken and my parents both have that Monday off for the holiday, so we thought, logically, we should ask about being induced that weekend. Some of the benefits of being induced are that we could make sure all the nurses we want there will be there, our photographer will be there, and our family will be there. But even more than those things, in this time of being unable to plan for anything, we can at least feel somewhat in control of something. (It's still ultimately up to God, but that was our thought).
At my OB appointment last week I spoke to my primary doctor and asked him if he thought that was a good idea, and even possible. I wasn't induced with Autumn so I didn't know what to expect or what was required. The OB said he was okay with it, but our ultrasound doctor needed to give her permission.
So at our appointment yesterday, after finding out that the fluid was still increasing, I brought up the possibility of being induced. She actually was in favor of this. Since my fluid keeps increasing, the concern for me and future pregnancies increases as well. When you are measuring bigger than normal, your uterus becomes thinner and thinner. One of the reasons twins are usually born early. This can make it dangerous to carry future pregnancies, and sometimes even impossible, if your uterus gets too thin. So our ultrasound doctor agreed that as long as my body was starting to get ready for delivery (WARNING), meaning I have a "favorable cervix," she was giving the green light for being induced. She said that since I'm already having contractions, Carina's head is still down, this is my second birth, and because Autumn came so quickly, we should be able to have a successful vaginal delivery.
And to top it off, our ultrasound doctor will be on-call that weekend! She has been with us from the beginning and it's so appropriate that she see us through to the end. She expressed her desire to be there for us and that, to me, is amazing. We have such an amazing medical staff! She also told me that there was a big hospital meeting about me last week, just informing everyone of everything so that there wouldn't be any questions or freaking out or worry about what to do with me. Everyone is prepared and ready for our arrival. How incredible is that?
Part of this meeting was to make sure that everyone knew what could possibly go wrong with me. Because I'm measuring so big, there will be a LOT of extra fluid, possibly excessive bleeding, and they worry that my uterus may not contract down on its own after Carina is delivered.
Today's OB appointment was pretty quick. Dr. Cohen came in and measured me (measuring 49 weeks today), and found I am already 2 centimeters dilated, 50% effaced, and he could feel the baby's head. He agreed we should schedule for May 28th. He also mentioned, as did our ultrasound doctor, that it's very possible I won't make it to the 28th. There is no danger to wait that long, but they're all saying my water could break on its own (like it did with Autumn). Since there's so much fluid, if that happens, I have to get right to the hospital. Needless to say, we're praying that Carina waits for the 28th!
So the countdown has begun. 10 days left. (Maybe less). Our ultrasound doctor said she knows I'd stay pregnant till I actually was 49 weeks if I could. And I would. As uncomfortable as I am, as little sleep as I'm getting these days, as hard as it is...I would keep her alive forever if I could. But I can't. But even knowing how very little time is left, I am so thankful for all the time we did have. She wasn't supposed to make it this long. I shouldn't be able to still feel her kicking because of all the fluid. So I'm thankful. We've been able to make so many memories with her. I'm thankful that we have been able to prepare, to some degree. I'm thankful for all the support we've had and continue to have. The clock has always been running, and even though there's an actual number now, I'm still thankful. I'm nervous, excited, afraid, happy, and sad...but thankful. 10 days or less...the time has come to start our goodbyes.
"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings.
Calloo-Callay come run away,
With cabbages and kings."
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings.
Calloo-Callay come run away,
With cabbages and kings."
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