Saturday, November 9, 2013

What a difference 4 years make.

I have so much to share, but so little time! (I am constantly amazed at how little free time I have now that ourl little guy is here).  We've gone from having a little (sort of) squishy newborn who can't even hold his own head up or see more than 9 inches in front of his face to having an almost 6 month old who is babbling, laughing, rolling over, grinning, fighting sleep, almost sitting up on his own, and almost ready for solid foods.  The hormones are mostly gone at this point, but I still get teary almost once a day at how blessed we are.

4 years ago this month I found out I was pregnant for the first time, and by the New Year my life as I knew it was completely wrecked.  For the next 3.5 years I would not be able to see a baby, hear a pregnancy announcement, or drive past Babies R Us without feeling a stabbing in my heart.  I was no longer a happy-go-lucky newlywed.  I was the mother of an angel (then two, then three), and my days had a dark cloud called "grief" floating over them.

Sitting here, on the other side, I can't say it is all better now.  Don't get me wrong, I am in LOVE with our son, and is an incredible blessing, beyond all words.  But, his birth does not erase my losses.

 I still think of the "would have beens", and I can't eat grilled cheese and tomato soup or watch Gilmore Girls without thinking of that night during a snowstorm when I sat alone and miscarried our first pregnancy as my family celebrated Christmas without me.  (Only because I didn't want anyone there with me, and made my husband go to the celebration so people wouldn't let our grief get them down, and they wouldn't feel the need to try to visit to deliver our presents.)  I can't watch The Office or hear the Olympic theme music without immediately flashing back to that winter after our loss when I would stay in bed all day (I was between jobs at the time) and watch TV, just to numb the pain and try to escape.  I can't help but feel guilty for what I have sometimes, because I don't deserve it any more (actually, probably less) than the countless others who are waiting for a baby.

 All of that said, I have a battered, but mostly healed heart, and I am so thankful for our rainbow.  I do not take him for granted.  When people have a baby, they usually say "Oh, it was so worth it.", normally referring to the 9 months of pregnancy and the labor and birth.  I, too, will say it was worth it.  The losses were worth it, the tears were worth it, the 3.5 years of waiting was worth it, and yes, the 9 months of pregnancy and 30 hours of labor were worth it. God walked with me through my trials, and brought me through to the other side.


"Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning." Psalm 30:5


Our joy the past few months:













Tuesday, August 27, 2013

3 months

Planning a longer post when I find the time... (this baby stuff takes a lot of work!!!) :)
But for now, some picture from our Rainbow Boy's first 3 months.


I love this boy more than words can express.  I'm so blessed.

Friday, May 31, 2013

Our Rainbow

Our rainbow baby has arrived!!!
Born Sunday, May 19 at 4:18 a.m.
9 lbs, 11 oz and 22.5 inches of pure perfection.
Delivered via c-section due to his large size, after 30 hours of labor and 3 hours of pushing.

I am overwhelmed with gratitude at God's faithfulness.
Being mommy to this little boy is more than I ever could have imagined, and watching my husband get to be a daddy brings tears to my eyes at least once a day.

We are so in love.

Just Born

1 week old

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Mother's Day...in Limbo

I had expected this Mother's Day to be different than those I've struggled through in the past few painful years.  And it was different, just not exactly how I expected.  I had expected to be holding my baby boy in my arms, filled with thankfulness.  Instead, I had him in my belly, and was filled with thankfulness.

I attended church, almost a week overdue, and had people "sympathize" with me, saying, "oh, it won't be long now, hang in there!" or "you must be so done!".  In reality, while I am incredibly anxious and ready to meet our boy, I'm really just cherishing these last days...the last days (hopefully) of being a childless couple, and the last days of feeling the miracle of our child moving inside of me. There is no sympathy needed. I'm ready, sure- ready to be a mother...but God has this planned out.  His timing is right.  I've been filled with a sense of peace, and am praying that I am right to feel at peace.  That the worst is over, and that a new, joy-filled chapter is about to begin.

As I was saying, I went to church on Mother's Day morning, with mixed emotions.  In the past few years, I've skipped the service on Mother's Day when at all possible, because it was too painful to sit through.  On Sunday morning, we ran into a friend of ours.  He and his wife have been struggling with infertility for years.  We stood in the hallway and chatted for awhile, but I was distracted.  I couldn't help but notice that he was alone.  My heart broke for his wife, because though I didn't ask, I knew his wife was at home, suffering.  I felt guilty for being in a different place this year.  Then, as we walked through the lobby of church, I saw something that reminded me of another friend of mine, much older than me, who was never able to have children.  And I knew that she, as well, was sitting at home on Mother's Day, like she does each year, rather than attending the service, to protect her dear heart.

When we finally got into the service, the kid's choir sang, and before the special speaker for the morning gave his message, he prayed.  And during that prayer, he prayed so genuinely for the women who feel pain on Mother's Day because they have lost children or because they are waiting to be or not able to be mothers.

I lost it.  Verging on ugly crying, I had tears streaming down my face during the prayer.  I was thinking of where I've been, and pouring out gratitude to God for his answer to prayer.  And then I was thinking about where I've been, and of those women, especially my two dear friends, who are still in that place.
That man's prayer meant so much to me.  It's the first time I remember having a pastor or speaker specifically acknowledge childless women on Mother's Day.  Usually there's a blanket statement made, to the effect of "we recognize that Mother's Day can be painful for certain individuals, for various reasons..." but to hear someone pray so earnestly for these women affected my heart so deeply.
This gentleman, who spoke about Hannah's story, shared the story of he and his wife's own miscarriage early in their marriage.

 I know that pregnancy loss, or the longing to have a child is a depressing topic to think about on Mother's Day, but I so appreciated the speaker's message, and his honesty.  Rather than focusing just on the fact that Hannah did become a mother, and that God answered her prayer, he also spent a good deal of time speaking about those days when Hannah struggled, when she was childless.

It was another tearful Mother's Day for me, but for slightly different reasons than in the past.  It was interesting for me to be "in limbo" this year.  Not in the dark place I've been in for the past few years, but not yet with a child in my arms.

For those of you who are thankful to just have "made it through" the emotions of another Mother's Day, I know that pain, and my prayers are with you.  Praying that God fills you with peace and comfort.