Easter

I was reading a devotion from Angie Smith. It was about Easter. 

The empty tomb. 

The women who went back to the tomb to to treat Christ's body with spices to find him gone. Telling the disciples that He is no longer in the tomb, but has risen from the dead. 

Some believed, excited that it was true. 

Some were skeptical and needed to see Jesus to believe He was no longer dead, but alive. They didn't trust that it could be true. 

They didn't trust. 

I think about where on that spectrum would I be. I am so quick to pray for miracles, to ask God for things, but when they happen, do I remember to give Him the glory? Do I believe it's truly Him that works these things out in my life, or just a "coincidence"?

 I like to think that if I were a disciple, I would have cried tears of joy! Screamed out and celebrated. Believed with every fiber of my being. 

Truthfully, I don't know that I would. 

Sometimes, I'm quicker to distrust than to trust. I'm quicker to search for an explanation than have faith and believe. 

I used to be better at it. Death and heartache has changed me. Changed the way my mind thinks, the way my heart feels. 

I've let it change me. 

I changed. God didn't. 

God didn't change.

 I"m working on trusting God more. I'm working on taking every thought captive. On praying and believing. On seeing the hand of God in everything in my life. 

The pain, and the joy.

 I'm working on changing my heart back, to have that trust, that faith. I want to hear of miracles and answers to prayer, and not just wonder if it was truly God, or someone just exaggerating a little, but TRUST. KNOW.  BELIEVE. 

Easter means so much more to me than it ever did. 

New life. 

Redemption. 

Hope. 

Promises of heaven. 

No more sorrow. 

No more pain. 

No more tears. 

No more death. 

Never again will an infant live but a few days. (Isaiah 65:20)

Easter. I tear up every single time I think about what Easter is. How can you not? (bunny trail.....I may be the only person I know that doesn't do Easter Bunny, Easter baskets, etc. I really noticed that this Easter. But I just want my children to wake up and be excited it is Easter. Wake up and think "Oh My GOODNESS, this is Sunday! This is the day Jesus wasn't dead anymore! Death was defeated! The tomb was EMPTY!!!!" Not, I wonder where my basket is and what chocolate I got, and if there's any fun gift in the basket, etc. I don't want ANYTHING to take away from the power Easter has. The significance Easter is! I fail. Daily with my children. Showing them, teaching them, focusing them. But I know I am trying my hardest at keeping Jesus the center. That He is the reason we have this life. We live this life, and we can have eternity too I like chocolate just as much as the next person. Actually, probably more. Ask my husband. I just give it to my kids all the time. So a basket of it on Easter isn't significant to them. I'm happy about that. My ways aren't right or wrong, just my ways. So please don't take this as "condemnation" or "judgement". This is what works for our family. And this is the way I desire and feel led to teach my children....told you it was a bunny trail.)

I trust that God will do a great work in my heart. That He will complete a great work He started in me when I first trusted back in 1997. Trust will be my first reaction. My instant reaction. That my unbelief will be less and less. I'm so thankful for all He's done in my life and will continue to do. I'm so thankful that all my sins, all my unbelief, were nailed to that cross with Him, I'm so thankful that "it is finished" (John 19:30). I'm so thankful for Easter.

One Year

My son is a year old. Saturday, at 11:39pm, he officially turned One. I was beside myself leading up to his birthday. He is likely my last baby. As of this moment, my husband is off the "let's have more" bandwagon, and so that makes me off as well. We won't pursue fertility anymore, so it is the whole "miracle of getting pregnant on my own" thing that would have to add to our family. I'm still holding out hope. how amazing would that be?! Oh, it makes my heart do flips just thinking about it! Anyways.....back to my son. My baby boy. The most joyful, happy, almost always smiling and laughing, beautiful baby boy. The healing he's brought to my heart is indescribable. The way he holds my face and pulls it in. The way he wraps his chubby little arms around me and hugs me tighter than a baby should be able to hug. The way he stares into my eyes as we rock at night. I love this boy. More than I knew my heart could love.

So, the anticipation that he was turning ONE, that he was going to no longer be my "infant" son, and start his journey into toddler hood, that was overwhelming to me. I wanted to freeze time. I wanted to pretend that he would be my baby forever. Each milestone is bittersweet. I'm so excited and happy for him when he learns something new. His face lights up, he gets excited too. I'm also so saddened that he has to get bigger, that he is reaching milestones I never thought I would get to see again, and that his brother's and sister never did get to meet. I panicked almost every day of his pregnancy that it would end in death. Even after he was born, it was like I waited. Waited for SOMETHING to go wrong. Something to take him away from me. (I still do this, with Claire as well!). I pray against these feelings daily. Sometimes, multiple times a day. Some days, I'm even distracted enough that I don't think about these things. For those days, I'm so grateful.

Saturday was his birthday. One whole year with him. One whole year of life. I planned his party around his bedroom theme. We did the same with Claire for her 1st birthday as well. The decorations were all hand made. The cupcakes were homemade. The food was simple and easy to put out. I got to enjoy the party. I got to celebrate with friends and family. I got to see my son enjoy his party. It was a beautiful day. I took a lot of pictures, and so did my sister-in-law. I will post a few on here. For the rest, you will have to go to my facebook page.

So, here marks the start of the toddler journey with my son. I'm excited. I'm nervous. I'm saddened. Life after loss, children after loss, it's so different. My heart is so tender. My emotions are so raw. My feelings are so sensitive. I pray that I don't change that. I pray that I can always look at my children, and no matter how little sleep, how loud they scream, how many pointless tantrums they throw, and how many messes they make, that I can pause, look them in the face, and see the miracles that they are. The joy that they bring. The little pieces of heaven on this earth that God has allowed me to be a mama to.

I can't believe my baby is One.


Sigh.....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Stream of Consciousness

Apparently 2 months can fly by. There's so much to journal about, I can't just pick one topic. Life is busy. Too busy. And every time I make a firm "things must slow down" stance, it's like life laughs in my face and adds a few more things to my pile. Let's just back up a bit. To the last journal entry. My mother's moved in. She's recently sold her house, and needed to have a place where she could live, without worries, without the responsibilities of being a home owner. She's not "old", but she's not a spring chicken anymore either. Her health isn't top notch, and let's be real, it's the way things were made to be. Eventually, you take care of your parents. OBVIOUSLY, 6 yrs into my marriage wasn't the time I ever thought this would happen, but if we are being real, and we are, nothing in this life has gone the way I thought was best. I was created selfish. I only think of me and my family most of the time. Not the whole picture. Not what God has planned for me, at least not if it doesn't always align with my plan. Man, has God been growing me these past few months. So solution, mom moves in. Bedroom was already down there because we built it in 2011 when we planned on her moving in because the triplets were going to be born. The living room/playroom was added in the fall of 2011 because we needed to busy ourselves with a project, and we thought a playroom would be fun. So now, my husband just finished the kitchenette. I'm jealous of it. It's gorgeous. Starting this week he will be framing out the bathroom and then finishing up that and putting in the flooring. It's going to take some time as he's also going to class Monday and Wednesday nights for a class for his job, and Claire has gymnastics, we both work full time, and we juggle a schedule to keep Dominic out of daycare right now as he's been sick more than healthy in his short year of life. If I never see an ED pediatric room again, it will be too soon. And as for 5 visits a month for the pediatrician, we are trying to keep that to a minimum too. I'm happy to report that he hasn't needed his nebulizer in almost 2 months. PRAISE GOD! Now let's bring on summer! This winter is kicking my butt. In other news, that pediatric ED? Yeah. That was an awful week of our lives. Dominic started with the stomach bug, and getting severely dehydrated and losing 4 lbs in just 24 hours. It was scary. First visit, they sent us home. He didn't "look" the part enough I guess. Just 17 hrs later we were back. And his number were "really really bad"...at least that is what the dr kept telling me. His wreck of a mom, alone in the ED with my poor sick child. Dad and sister were at home puking, and I got to drink ginger ale like it was going out of style while them pumped my son full of fluids for 4 hours. He wouldn't expand on "really, really bad". I could only imagine after he was having diarrhea at least 15 times an hour for almost 48 hours. I didn't have enough energy to ask either. We hadn't slept or ate in 40 hrs. It was what I imagine hell to be like. The room was hot too. Sickeningly hot.  This very sick boy took a week and a day to recover, and recover he did. He's standing by himself, he's taking 4-5 steps by himself, and he eats like food may disappear any minute and NEVER APPEAR AGAIN! Seriously. Anthony and I joke that we will need a second job just to feed him. He's hungry. Perpetually hungry. And he turns a year on Saturday. A YEAR!!!! My baby is not going to be a baby anymore! I can't handle it. I think I've cried a hundred times this week. I've snuggled him longer before putting him down to sleep, I've stared at him more than ever, studying every little bit of his chubby toes, his squishy cheeks, his toothy grin, his beautifully handsome face, his deep blue eyes (that just may stay steel blue!)....my baby boy. I'm one sad momma. I'm so happy that he's healthy, and able to celebrate his birthday here on earth, but so so sad that my baby is not much of a baby anymore. I've been pulling late, late nights finishing the decor for his birthday. So excited to see it all come together, and to celebrate with our closest friends and family this weekend. He brings us such joy. This boy. This miracle that grew out of grief and love and hope. This boy who helped my heart heal a bit more. This boy who God is going to do mighty, mighty things through. He's going to be a year old in 4 days. I don't even know where this year went.....oh yeah. We spent the majority of it in the dr's office or at the hospital. ;o)

Here's a few pics to recap the last few months:

Christmas Time is here....

  "Christmas time is here
Happiness and cheer
Fun for all that children call
Their favorite time of the year

Snowflakes in the air
Carols everywhere
Olden times and ancient rhymes
Of love and dreams to share

Sleigh bells in the air
Beauty everywhere
Yuletide by the fireside
And joyful memories there

Christmas time is here
We'll be drawing near
Oh, that we could always see
Such spirit through the year
Oh, that we could always see
Such spirit through the year..."

 

Christmas time used to be filled with so much joy and excitement for me. I looked forward to every tradition, seeing family, exchanging presents, Christmas service, all of it. Parties leading up to it, the leftovers after Christmas day actually came, listening to Christmas music from Thanksgiving to Christmas day, every single thing about the Christmas season was filled with wonder and awe for me. I was like a giddy child, even into my adulthood.

 

The past couple of years though, that excitement, giddiness, joy, it's dwindled. We still go through and do most traditions, I still try to make the season filled with excitement and joy for my children, but my smiles, my squeals, they are mostly just forced. I don't enjoy it too much anymore because I walk around with pieces of me missing. I just don't feel like I can have traditions when half my family isn't here.

 

I am always trying to find ways to include Nathan, Malia and Anthony Jr into the Christmas season. This year, I made an ornament again. Also, our family did a toy drive at my place of work to be donated to the hospital in memory of the triplets. I was overwhelmed at how many participated, and even friends and family from outside of work stopped at my house to drop off toys. It made my heart happy to know that others were giving in memory of my children. We also did a few things at our church, giving back from each of our children. I also made memory ornaments for each of them to hang on our tree.

This year, as it's been 3 Christmas' without my entire family, the anxiety is just as high. The want to avoid the holiday and bunker down with just my family and all the snuggles one can handle is just as great. But, my husband is the opposite. He wants to have big family events. Have lots of food and fun. So I oblige. Claire loves "parties", Dominic is pretty indifferent. It's funny. Claire is just like her dad, and Dominic is just like me. He's happy as long as he has his mommy, daddy and sister. He needs no one else. He actually prefers no one else. Maybe we'll be bah humbugs together!

I'm trying to feel festive. I'm trying to find my "Christmas spirit", and while it is getting a bit easier to relax and enjoy moments, those moments are still not as many as they used to be. Maybe in future years Christmas will look like it used to, or at least more of a resemblance to Christmas' past, but for now it's still a struggle in my heart to get through the Christmas season. I'm mostly ok with it though. I take more time to remember my children that aren't here. I have made new friends that understand my heart. They check in and make this season a little easier. They help me feel like I'm not alone, and not crazy. I'm sure that it will never be the same....and until that day when I see them face to face in heaven, my heart will feel this emptiness, especially around this season. They sure make it a bit easier though!

We had our Christmas services at church this past weekend. All the children were dressed to the nine's. The church was decorated in such beautiful garb. The message was touching and delivered with such grace. My heart got into what Christmas was all about for that time. Jesus pulled me closer to Him. Settled my heart and my mind. Spoke to my spirit. I had peace. For an hour my body relaxed and my mind stayed on Him. The reason we celebrate Christmas. Sometimes, I wish those moments wouldn't end. It's like a little bit of heaven here on earth. I feel His presence, I drink in His grace, and He touches my wounded heart. I am so thankful that Jesus came to this earth as a baby. I'm so thankful that in all His wonder, the gift that He has given to me is more than just getting to see my babies again. He's given me eternal life with them, and more importantly, eternal life with Him. The one who knitted each of them together.

Merry Christmas, broken or not.  From my family to yours.


The Woman I am Called to be

I'm in a small group, it meets online. It's with other women who have lost their babies. It's something I think I needed, and with a group of women who "get it". One of the topics for discussion was what kind of woman do you want to be.

Some days I really don't want to stay married. if i'm being honest. some days I really don't give a rats behind if I have joy or not, if I keep my friends or not, if I am alone or not. some days I just want to be down right miserable and not feel guilty that i'm being a "bad Christian" because of it. My hope is there, when I look deep down. my joy is there, I still believe my Lord did what He did for me and I am still ever so thankful for that. But I want to be pitiful sometimes. 

On my good days, I do desire to be the wife that my husband needs. to support him in all things, be the encourager he needs to be the man of God that he needs and desires to be. I want to be the kind of mother where my children are always so excited to spend time with me, they know they have my undivided attention all the time. I want them to trust me, look up to me, be able to follow me and call me blessed. I want them to see a relationship with Christ that is so amazing that they aspire to have that kind of connection. I do strive for those things. Most of the time. I want my friends to all believe and see me strong, faithful, trustworthy. I want to be an example to the younger generations of what it means to live a life fully devoted to Jesus, interwoven with His word, that when they see me, they see the me that is only there because of grace and mercy and love.

There are days though that I don't know which end is up. I'm so angry that my husband hasn't mentioned my children in days and complains that the baby isn't sleeping through the night, or my daughter isn't napping anymore. I am thankful that these moments aren't moments I have to long for. It could be worse. They could not be on this earth with me either. I will get up a hundred times, and believe me you, I do. I would take a cranky, exhausted, stubborn 3 yr old, as frustrating as it is, because the thought of me longing for those moments with my triplets is too much for my heart to bear. There are times I don't care if I'm married, I don't care if he goes away and leaves me alone because the complaining makes my heart ache even more. There are days that I'm so short tempered with my children that they see the ugly come out of me. I don't know how to pay attention to the demanding 3 yr old, the teething 7 month old, and still feel like I'm taking time out to love and grieve my 3 beautiful children that don't get to be on this earth with me. How do you stretch yourself in all those directions? I don't want people to see me as the "one who came unraveled", but some days, lately more often than not, my rope is too short. I'm left trying to keep my head above the water when all I really want to do is strive to be the person that God created me to be, the example of hope and faithfulness to those who would look at me. But I'm failing.

The work it takes to be the woman I know I should be, the one I know I was made to be, and can be, it's hard. And while some days I feel I've been successful, more often than not, I want to bury myself under every blanket and pillow in my house, scream out in anger and failure and be left alone. It's a lonely place. Go figure. Wanting to be left alone is a lonely place. Feeling like no one gets it. That's the loneliest place. Feeling like I have to pretend every day, that is more exhausting than letting God do His work in me. Yet, I find myself fighting it more than letting go. I'm my worst enemy when it comes to being the woman God has called me to be.

Weary

Isaiah 40:29-31

29 He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. 30 Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; 31 but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

This is my mantra as of late. I'm having a terrible time of feeling weary. I'm tired of expectations. I'm tired of fakeness (I made that a word ok? ok.). I draw strength from the Lord, and place my hope in Him daily. Ok, more realistically, hourly. I remind myself that I can't do this on my own, put my cross down, lay at His feet, and surrender my everything to the One who created me. He holds me in His hands, He catches every single tear that falls (and let me say, that's been quite a few lately).

I have no one in my "real life" that has ever been through the type of loss we've been through. I know no one who's had to be wheeled down the labor and delivery hall to leave the hospital with boxes of their children's belongings instead of a car seats with cute, pink newborns in them, pick up their child, in an urn, from a funeral home (that drive still haunts my dreams, day and night). People lose eye contact, get fidgety, change topics, run (ok, maybe not run, but I bet they think about it) when I start to talk about my children. I need to talk about my children. I need to reminisce about their smells, their looks, their personalities, just like I talk about my living children. You can consider me obsessed, but no more obsessed than I am with my children that are living, and no more obsessed than others are about their children.

I started going to a group that is local. This group is full of women who have walked a similar path that I've walked. I have been trying to connect for quite some time, but whether through fear, or scheduling, it hasn't worked out. I bit the bullet and went this past week. How refreshing. To talk about my children in a setting that doesn't judge, squirm, shut down, ignore. A group who can relate, who I don't feel crazy with, or like I need to walk on eggshells around.

I also joined a bible study/small group with a bunch of women who also can relate. I'm very much looking forward to this. I need this. Like water in a drought, my soul needs to be refreshed, revived, poured into. I need to not feel like this alien anymore. I need to not feel like I am walking around as one person, but yet inside of me, someone else is screaming, clawing, begging to come out.

I want to be accepted. I need to be accepted. This means my children too. My children who are no longer alive.

I'm so weary. I have nothing left to give to others, and I hate that. I want to support others in their struggles, in their joys, but I just haven't been able to. At least not truly. I can fake it. Boy, can I fake it. On the inside though, I'm dried up. There's nothing to draw from. I need to renew my strength. Or better put, I need the Lord to renew my strength. I need to run and not grow weary, to walk and not be faint.

Happy Birthday (Part 2)

This year we decided we wanted to go to the zoo. Dominic loves to be outside, and when we asked Claire if she wanted to do the museum or the zoo, she chose the zoo. I was so glad she did. It was a hot day though, and it made for a cranky kid, and claire and dominic had their moments too (just kidding hunny!) I packed a picnic lunch, and we stayed up til nap time. We all had a lot of fun, and the animals were the most active I've ever seen them. Of course I forgot my camera though, and the only shots I had to time to take with my iPhone were few and far between. We came home, napped, and then made a nice dinner. After dinner we sang "Happy Birthday" and blew out the the candles on the cupcakes. We went outside to sit at the stone and eat our cupcakes. While we were gone Aunt Becca stopped over and brought the triplets favorite (what they demanded of me all day every day while doing time on the inside) Nutter Butter Bars, roses, and little notes. She gets me every time. Best friend and auntie to her kids a girl could ask for. 

My emotions were up and down. I was so thankful and excited that Dominic was here to celebrate with us this year. Last year, I was just starting my 2nd trimester with him. I was scared, and highly doubted I'd ever get to add him to our family. I was too distracted with both kids to have time to break down until the end of the day. When all went to bed, and I reflected on my day, I wept. Another year without them. Another year wondering. Claire understood way more this year. It broke my heart when we got the cupcakes out to sing "Happy Birthday" and Claire protested because we needed to wait for Nathan, Anthony and Malia to get to their party. I tried to explain that they were in heaven looking down on their party and having a great party in heaven. But it didn't fly. She was a little upset that they weren't coming, and we couldn't go to their party in heaven. So unfair. I agree baby, I agree.

 

Here are some pics from our day: