Up On the Mountain

For a while now, it’s been my husband’s and mine conviction to let God plan our family.  If you know me, you’ll recognize that it took a lot for me to get to that place—a lot of prayer, time spent in the Word, and a lot of Biblical counsel from Godly men and women.  I adore my children, but mothering hasn’t always come easy to me.  Yet once I did get there—get to that place where I put my total trust in the Lord to deliver the children in our family according to his perfect plan—it didn’t turn out like I thought it would. 

 
Have you ever experienced a situation like this? Where you desire something good, acceptable, and perfect (Romans 12:2)… and instead of everything falling into place, you have to wait? And wait, and wait, and wait?

Just FYI: This post isn’t (really) about my fertility.  Bear with me.

When I chose to turn over the number of and space between children to God, He really did a number on me.  I grew up believing I’d only have 2 (maybe, if things got crazy, 3!) children, because that’s all I knew. (I’d like to make a disclaimer here—this is our personal conviction.  If you are reading this and do not share this conviction, please do not be offended.  I believe this is a non-salvation issue; for us, it has been a sanctification process.  Also, if you have had a struggle to have any children at all, or have not been able to, please know I do not mean to equate what God has taught me with your pain and your journey.  This is merely meant to encourage anyone who wants something “good” and has been told.. patience, Grasshopper.  End disclaimer).  When God changed my heart, He went all out—I honestly went from being terrified to have “too many” children to DESIRING a “quiver full” (Psalm 127).  I longed for a large family, and because it had taken SO MUCH for me to get to that place, and because it was a “good” desire…. I assumed that instantly, I would get it.  I was on that spiritual mountaintop we've all been on—I had found such communion and joy in the Lord, I couldn't imagine ever questioning or doubting ever again, because God has revealed Himself to me! I had finally surrendered! Even if I would never admit it, I really believed, deep down in my heart, that all God needed from me was surrender, and then He would bless me.

Imagine my surprise when things haven’t turned out this way.  I have friends still in their 20’s and very early 30’s who have 5 and 6 children, and will almost certainly have more… and here I am, believing and practicing the same things, and I have 2.  I realize that I am young, and have plenty of time, but patience isn’t my strong suite.  And please know that on this earth, my two boys are THE greatest blessings.  But it is my heart’s desire to have more children, so with every passing month that it doesn’t happen, I start to question what’s going on—with my body, with my life, with my faith.  I started wondering WHY God would put a longing in me for something that he LOVES: children!, if I wasn’t going to have any more children RIGHT AWAY, or even, not at all. 

Recently, I’ve come to see that this struggle I’ve been having isn’t necessarily about the size of my family.  It’s not about how strong my faith is, or how amazing my witness is, or about showing the world how different I am because I love Jesus.  All of these things are GOOD—we should want what He wants, desire for His desires, love what He calls good and hate what He calls evil (Romans 12:9).   

This is something more personal.  It’s between me and God.  It’s about doing what I thought I was doing initially—giving up every ambition and hope, every dream, even if it is good, to the will of God.  In those moments when I reach the “peak,” I believe Him completely. 

And then we come down the mountain, and live life as we must, in fact, as God calls us to—through refinement and struggles and persecution.  Maybe, for you, your desire and hope is a Godly husband or wife.  Maybe it’s a career to provide for your family.  I have dear friends who have a heavy burden to care for the orphan through adoption.  Yet every time they move forward, in faith, God shuts doors and opportunities are lost.  How can this be? How can a God who loves us deny us “good” things?

You see, if I trust Him, I need to give up any expectation or goal or dream to Him.  If I want to obey and serve Him, and be in a right relationship with Him, I need to acknowledge and accept that He is going to use painful situations to teach me.  God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son, for goodness’ sake! And he was willing to do that. Through this time of hoping and waiting, I have come to realize that even though I’ve “come down from the mountain,” and my expectations aren’t coming to fruition, God is using this circumstance to refine me.  I have got to get to that place, where I thought I was the first time, of when I say “not my will, God, but yours”—I really mean it.  I need to turn that easy obedience into practiced obedience, and that easy trust into implicit trust.  I need to come down from the mountain, yet remain in the spirit of my experience there. 

He wants us to desire good things. 

Mostly, He wants us to desire Him.

"This I Know"-- my new song obession, by (who else?) David Crowder

Up on the mountain

Where You taught my soul to sing

Amazing grace the sweetest thing

This I know

And then the storm rushing in

And here I am again

This I know

Take me up to where I was

When I never wanted more than You

Lift me up to feel your touch

It wouldn't be that much for You

This I know

This I know

This I know

This I know

Up on the mountain

Where You took me by the hand

Taught me to dance again

This I know

Up on the mountain

Where You took this heart of stone

Put life back in these bones

This I know

Take me up to where I was

When I never wanted more than You

Lift me up to feel your touch

It wouldn't be that much for You

This I know

This I know

This I know

This I know

Today I Baked a Cake: A Poem

A little poem for my faithful readers.  AKA my Grandma.  Ha ha.

My little men helping me in the kitchen

Today I baked a cake
I made it with my sons
It wasn't hard to make
We all had lots of fun

I measured out the flour
We spilled some on the floor
We baked it 'bout an hour
And then could wait no more

I set it out to rest
High upon the counter
I noticed I hadn't dressed
Nor had I even showered

I warned my sons I was watching
I told them not to touch
While I was busy washing
I didn't hear too much

If you have toddlers playing
Their laughter is so dear
But when they're disobeying
Silence you will hear

Alas, my chocolate
Confectionary treat
Was scattered around the faucet
And underneath my feet

"I wonder who did that!"
They said with a chocolatey grin.
I guess now we'll have a chat
About how lying is a sin.


This is a true story.  I made another one.
The end.

Advice to a 19 Year Old

I recently read this blog post which made me laugh really hard.. mostly because it described me to a "T" around the age of 21.  If you're not aware, I have actually been engaged twice-- once, of course, to my wonderful husband of 7 years, and once to.. someone else.  I'm not going to go into it, and I wish nothing but the best for that person, but to make a long story short-- it was a terrible decision, and we would have BOTH been miserable, and ending the engagement was one of the best things we could have ever done.  Anyway, I was reflecting on who I was THEN, when I got engaged at the ripe old age of 19, and who I am NOW, 10 years later at age 29.  If I could whisper in the ear of my 19-year-old self, and give her a little advice, I would say the following:

Summer 2003! Left to right:
Me, Trisha, Erin, Gretchen, Stace
All beautiful sisters in the Lord, all still friends of mine today

*If you feel, in your gut, that it's wrong-- it is.  I love reading advice columns ("Dear Prudie" is always interesting...) mostly because, on the outside, it is pretty obvious what the person is asking for-- permission and/or absolution.  Many of us know what the right thing to do is when faced with decisions, and yet we waver, I believe, because of our inherent sin nature.  James 4:17 makes it pretty clear: "Therefore, to him who knows to do good and does not do it, to him it is a sin."  Whether we knew we were wrong getting into the situation in the first place and don't want to deal with the consequences, or we suddenly have to do something very difficult and are trying to avoid getting hurt or hurting someone else.  Doing hard things has become a mantra of mine for this very reason-- I used to ignore or put off making a decision if it was going to be hard.  But trust me, the longer you put it off, the harder it gets for everyone involved.

*Don't buy that Ashlee Simpson CD.  Not only is it terrible, but CDs will be obsolete in about 10 years. And then you will be ashamed that you ever owned such a CD.

*It's okay to feel lonely.  Feeling this way is what draws you to the ONLY ONE who will never leave you or forsake you: Jesus (Deuteronomy 31:6) Stop trying to cling to people and relationships that are unhealthy just because you're scared to be alone-- God is giving you this opportunity to learn to lean into and trust in Him completely.

*When you pray, listen.  1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 says, "Rejoice evermore; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you."  Pray unceasingly and yes, ask God for the things you (think) you want and need, but mostly, concern yourself with listening and obeying what He tells you.  I have never audibly heard the voice of the Lord, but I *have* heard His voice. Being in the Word is so crucial-- much more so than having a date tomorrow night or getting an A on that project that's due next week.

Si and I at an ISU football game--
Almost exactly 10 years after the top picture was
taken! How time flies, and things change, PTL!

*Shovel the driveway when it snows, and don't use it as a trump card when you get into an argument with your roommates.

*10 years seems like forever.  Right now, it's MORE than half your life.  But trust me when I say that the next 10 years will fly like you can't believe.  Use these 10 years wisely-- trust the Lord, listen to Him, and be patient.  His plan and will for your life is so much more than you can imagine-- some incredibly hard, hurtful times, yes, but these times will draw you near to Him and you will learn to praise Him in all circumstances.

*Last, but certainly not least-- just so you know, the toilet in the basement is actually NOT a black toilet, it is white, and it needs cleaning.

Never Say Never

I've been told that "Never Say Never" is the motto of one Justin Bieber.  However, I'm more familiar with the phrase thanks to the Neverland Pirate Band.

 A couple of weeks ago, I bribed enticed encouraged my husband to do something he swore up and down he'd never do-- run a road race with me.  It was a lot of fun, even he agrees, but it got me thinking about things that I just KNEW I'd never do before I had kids that are now every-day occurrences for me.  Here is a list of things that I have actually done after having children.  Be warned, this is the truth, which is sometimes not pretty.

1. Forget to change the sheets that my water broke on.
2. Sleep on said sheets for approximately six weeks.
3. Breast-feed, uncovered, in front of numerous unknown people, not because I don't value modesty blah blah blah, but because I forgot my cover and decided I didn't care.
4. Have a colonoscopy and have no problems talking about it with people I do as well as do not know.
5. Forget that I left the TV on E! after watching a Katy Perry special (not even a fan) and realize 20 minutes later that my 3 year old is watching an episode of Sex and the City.
6. Very loudly discuss luteal phase defects and implantation bleeding at Olive Garden in front of our 18 year old male waiter.
7. Go out in public with urine and spit-up (also known as vomit) on my clothing.
8. Know about urine and spit-up before I leave and decide changing clothes is too much work.
9. Get a little addicted to the Wendy Williams show when Silas was a newborn and we didn't have cable.
10. Wear leggings as pants, see #8.

Just to tempt fate, I'm now going to include a short list of things I am 100% I will never, ever, EVER do in the future.
1. Eat my own placenta.

Happy Parenting!

This is a picture of Silas and I at the Freedom Fest Balloon Glow.

As you can tell, he is in the process of picking his nose.

Which he then wiped on me.

Do Hard Things

I am far from perfect.  I'm so far from perfect, I can't even tell you what perfect looks like or where it's located.  I yell, more when I'm tired or hormonal.  I use the TV as a babysitter when I shower (or blog, thanks Jake and the Neverland Pirates).  Sometimes, I let my kids eat those nasty little powdered sugar donuts because they were good while we went grocery shopping.  I'm sure there's a million other things I do wrong, but I'm going to stop listing them because it's making me a bit depressed.  Anyway, I'm not perfect, but there is one thing that I've gotten pretty good at over the last 3 years and 8 months of my life.  Let me explain it to you.

I once read the first four pages of a book called "Do Hard Things" by Alex and Brett Harris (you know, the little brothers of Joshua Harris).  I only read the first four pages because, at the time, I was 24 and had no kids and therefore no cares in the world so accomplishing monumental tasks in my life consisted of making sure I was at work before 9 (or 9:30, let's be honest here) and that my grad school papers were in on time (I know there are a myriad of people who have accomplished a lot of amazing feats by the time they're 24-- including having children, but I wasn't one of them).  Anyway, the premise of "Do Hard Things" involves challenging young people to defy current cultural expectations of their generation and work hard, cast off any sense or feelings of entitlement, set one's goals SUPER high, and go after and achieve those goals-- whether that be climbing a mountain or starting a business or going to college, etc.  At 24, I had accomplished some wonderful things-- I had a job I loved, an amazing husband that God had given me, a house, etc.  Yet I had a fear of failure, as many people often do, and therefore I never set a goal that I didn't already know I could achieve.  I didn't really quit things, I just never did anything very difficult in the first place.

Then we decided to start our family.

If you've read my blog before, you're probably familiar with this post where I share our experiences and struggles with having children.  We have been so, so blessed and are very humbled that God has chosen to give us these two amazing boys, and we pray that someday (really, any day now would be okay, Jesus.... :) he would choose to grow our family.  If you have kids, or have been around kids, or have been a kid, you know that they're an awful lot of work.  And here's the thing about them-- you don't really get to give up. When I first had Silas, my oldest, I was overwhelmed and terrified and probably had more than a touch of PPD, in retrospect.  I felt incredibly incompetent and relied heavily on my God, my mother, and my friends for support, guidance, and love.  It was SUCH hard work, and it was, hands down, the hardest thing I had ever done, both physically and mentally and spiritually.  There were times I went down into the basement in the middle of the night and screamed as loud as I could (don't worry, I didn't startle anyone, as Silas's screams were still louder than mine).  There were times I stuck him in his swing and let him cry himself to sleep as I stared at him because I didn't know what else to do.  So many times, even though I loved him more than my own life, I felt defeated because I just didn't know how to handle this tiny, wrinkly human being-- and my friends were juggling 3 or 4 kids with what seemed like ease.

When Silas was about 10 months old, I went to a week-long Bible camp with my friend Amy.  I'd been to the camp several years before, and always came away refreshed and renewed and excited by the Word of God.  Every other year I had looked forward to it eagerly.  This year, however, I was dreading it.  Why? Because of Silas.  I had to take my still not sleeping through the night 10 month old baby to a dorm room on a not-baby-friendly college campus in a town 2 1/2 hours from home, by myself.  I almost didn't go (seriously, I couldn't even handle a Wal-Mart trip with the kid by myself), but something told me I should power through.  So I did.  I hauled my kid, myself, the pack n play (which ended up being a waste of space because of course he could only sleep ON TOP OF me the whole time, super restful if you're wondering), and ton of other baby junk to Pella, Iowa for a whole week away from my husband and family.  The week I was dreading (I cried on the way) ended up being one of the best experiences of my life.  Not because it was easier than I thought it would be (if anything, it was harder), but because God used the pastors (shout out to Lew and Dave Miller!) to tell me exactly what I needed to hear, not necessarily what I wanted to hear.

The message? Do. Hard. Things.  Well, not that exactly, but the words the pastors spoke about God leading the Israelites through the wilderness, and how we, as believers, may live in the wilderness indefinitely-- and we need to praise God anyway- and not just anyway, BECAUSE we are in the wilderness.  The wilderness is where God teaches and refines us.  He draws us to our knees and humbles us and then pulls us back up stronger and more reliant on him.  2 Corinthians 2:10 is a verse many of us are familiar with- "Therefore I take pleasures in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then I am strong."  I knew this verse, but I had never experienced it.  I was most definitely in the wilderness, with this whole motherhood thing.  I was running away and looking for excuses and reasons to be my "old" self-- my childless self, my selfish self.  But God had chosen me to be a mother, and that self was GONE, whether I liked it or not.  And what I learned at camp was that God was pulling me through the wilderness (I wasn't going willingly) to make me a mother who raises her children in his image, truth, word, and love.  Having and raising my family is hands down the hardest thing I've ever done (and I detassled for five years, folks).  Instead of shying away from the exhaustion and utter fear I was experiencing, I need to cry out to Jesus and embrace it.

At camp I remembered the title of that book, and realized that God was calling me to do hard things-- the hardest thing-- and give up myself, my expectations, my hopes and dreams and fears, and dive headfirst into his calling for me, at this moment in time-- being a mother.  As I laid wide-awake in bed that night, my back aching and my breath short because my 10 month old was sound asleep on my chest, I decided that I would not turn away from the challenges God was calling me to.  I would embrace every difficulty as an opportunity to teach as well as learn, a place to plant seeds in my child(ren) as well as grow myself.  I would trust God even when things were unimaginably hard-- that he had a purpose for this circumstance and would eventually work it for good.

I can honestly say that from that moment on, my life has been different.  The Holy Spirit completely changed my attitude, my mind, and my heart.  I still get frustrated and angry and lose my temper.  Yet I honestly look at every challenge I face as a mother-- from big things like how to raise my children to love truth and righteousness, to small things like how to get them to stop spitting on each other-- I always have a peace that comes from God.  I know that even if this is taking a loooong time (and with little ones, EVERYTHING takes a long time) that there is a purpose for it.  I know and understand that anything worth doing is hard. "And whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the reward of the inheritance, for you serve the Lord Christ." -- Colossians 3:23-24

I may never climb a mountain, or run a marathon.  I may never get my PhD or write a book.  But I know that I will rely on the Lord to raise my children to know him, serve him, and love him.  And that, my friends, is the hardest, most rewarding, and most important thing of all.

Now if you'll excuse me, my children are both yelling because, apparently, they're both trapped in Oliver's crib.  I best investigate, or else they'll both be soaked in spit momentarily (that "how to get them to stop spitting on each other" thing is a real problem).

This is a picture of Silas at around 6 months old.

This also is a pretty accurate representation of how I felt the majority of Silas's first year of life.

Little House in the Iowa Cornfield, or, Farmer Girl, or, By the Shores of Lake Wandu

The actual Ingalls Homestead in De Smet, SD

For as long as I can remember, I've been a little bit obsessed with Laura Ingalls Wilder and her Little House  book series.  I started reading them in second grade, and haven't stopped since.  I still work my way through all of the books once every couple of years or so, and though I have probably read the books ten times each, every time I read them I love them a little bit more.  When I was in third grade (shout out to Mrs. Blin!) I even dressed up as Laura and made a little storyboard for a book report, sunbonnet and all. Recently, I learned that the brother of a dear family friend is the owner and operator of the Ingalls Homestead in De Smet, South Dakota, and I've made it a personal mission to get my family there for a trip ASAP.  My husband, who has never read the books, has a hard time understanding my enthusiasm for such a trip.  He doesn't get my pop culture (pioneer culture??) references every time there's a snowstorm and I tell him to tie a rope between the back door and the garage.  Anyway.

I think this lifelong love of the story of a pioneer family probably has something to do with my current obsession with homesteading.  If you're not familiar with homesteading, it's living pretty much like Ma and Pa Ingalls did-- being able to be self-sufficient and self-sustaining from your own home.  I love the idea of being able, if need be, to survive and thrive "off the grid."  Our belief that this may be a necessity, and that we could even attempt such a lifestyle, comes from a couple of things:

1. The belief that we may live through the Tribulation and/or Zombie Apocalypse.  Could be the same thing.
I like to say I'm optimistically Pre-Trib, but I'm not the world's greatest or smartest eschatologist.  Better to be safe than sorry, as they say.
2. I've watched a heck of a lot of Bear Grylls.  Pretty sure I could skin a sheep and use its layers of fat and wool as a sleeping bag.
3. I was in 4H.  If we do live through the Tribulation, I may have the Coggon Clippers to thank for teaching me how to sew, cook, and raise farm animals.  Head, Heart, Hands, Health, ya'll.

My family, mind you, is far, far, FAR from being true survivalists.  We don't have a bunker.  We are not currently stockpiling weapons.  We have electricity and satellite TV and smart phones.  But we are slowly moving towards the ability to go without them, if we have to.  We have a fairly large garden and I'm learning how to store seeds.  We are moving away from using any sort of chemicals in our home, and my husband said he'd build me a coop so we can get chickens (yay!!).  We live on a small acreage in the country, which allows us some freedoms in terms of having animals and space to grow things.  I learned how to can a couple of years ago and have spent significant time the past few summers adding our home-grown vegetables, jams and jellies, pasta sauce, salsa, etc. to our pantry.  We heat our home exclusively with a wood-burning stove in the winter, and are looking into getting a rain barrel.

Now don't get me wrong-- I love my air conditioning.  I am a pretty big fan of electricity, as it runs my treadmill and keeps my TV on and charges my phone so I can check who's cat is doing what stupid thing on Facebook.  But it's comforting to feel like we could survive without all these things.  Every time I go out to my garden to pick something, I pretend I'm Laura Ingalls and keep an eye out for wolves and papooses, with my trusty bulldog Jack (my yippy mutt Flufferbutt plays the part well) by my side.

I've always wondered what happened to Mr. Edwards.  I hope there's an exhibit on him in De Smet.

In case you're wondering, "Lake Wandu" is the name of a tiny farm pond about a mile from my house, and the closest body of water to us.  No idea who actually owns it.

Ma and Pa 

Laura as a young girl

Even So, It Is Well With My Soul

Our Little Miracles!

Oliver, 5/5/12

Silas, 9/27/09

This is not a post I particularly want to write.  This post will probably not be too witty, or include any funny anecdotes at all, actually.  But it's something God has been putting on my heart lately and though I've been fighting it for several weeks, I guess I'll just go ahead and obey (things always go better when you listen to Him.  If you're wondering.)

If you didn't know, I actually have three children-- Silas and Oliver, here with us on earth, and our first baby, who is in heaven.  I found out I was pregnant in early October 2008, after trying for one month.  We were shocked and surprised and more than a little scared.  I remember the day I found out we went to an ISU football game (those were the "before kids" days when we had money, thus season tickets) and I just felt so... weird the whole day.  I couldn't wrap my brain around it, I didn't really want to talk or think about it-- I was excited but right from the get go, I was absolutely terrified and had a feeling that something was wrong.

As the weeks went on, I told only a few friends about the baby and continued on with life.  I continued to have a nagging feeling that things weren't right, but I tried to push that aside and think about having a baby in early June.  When I was about 8 weeks pregnant I started to have a pulsing pain on my left side.  It wasn't too bad at first-- for several days I just felt uncomfortable.  As time went on, however, it got worse.  I called my doctor and spoke with a nurse, and tried to explain that I was having periods of intense pain in one localized area.  I said, literally, "I really think there is something wrong-- could I please come in for an ultrasound?" The nurse dismissed me as a hypochondriac first-time mom, and told me to take a laxative.  (No joke, that's what she said.)  I hung up the phone feeling like maybe I *was* crazy-- after all, I'd never been pregnant before, what did I know? I wasn't having any bleeding, so I thought maybe she was right.

I woke up the next morning and the pain was still present.  I actually have a pretty high pain tolerance, so I ignored it and went on my usual 5 mile run before I left for work, where I was scheduled to teach in a local sixth grade classroom.  I remember during my run that every time my foot hit the ground, my left side ached and pulsed-- it felt hot to the touch, and was a little swollen.  Still, I finished my run and got ready for work.  As the morning went on the pain got worse and worse-- towards the end of the class I had to pull a stool over to myself and sit while I talked to the kids, which is something I never do-- I like to walk around and interact when I'm teaching.  When the class was over, I gathered my things and started towards my car.

Between the office where I signed out and the parking lot, the pain became so intense that I had to walk bent over, and I was having trouble breathing.  I got in my car and started to drive to Cedar Rapids, and I called my friend Amy to let her know I was in trouble.  The ironic thing is Amy was pregnant too-- due just a few days before me.  She had been there when I called my doctor about the pain, and she knew I didn't feel right about the pregnancy.  Amy started to cry and offered to come and get me.  I told Amy I would have my husband pick me up, and just to pray for me.  I then called Jamie, and told him something was very, very wrong, and he needed to come take me to the ER.  By this time I had pulled over and parked in the Touch of Class parking lot because I couldn't drive anymore.  I then called my doctor and told the nurse that I was having excruciating pain and I didn't know what to do.... and she proceeded to put me on hold for seven minutes.  It would have been longer, but I hung up and called back again.  This time, I got another nurse who told me I needed to go to the ER right away.  Jamie pulled up and lifted me into the truck, and we sped off to Mercy, where I was admitted right away and had an ultrasound within the hour.  The admitting doctor mentioned the possibility of an ectopic pregnancy.  I knew, instantly, that that was what was happening to me.

Sure enough, the ultrasound confirmed that the baby had implanted in my left fallopian tube, which had then burst.  I was bleeding internally to a great degree.  Jamie called my parents who came as soon as they could.  I was an emotional mess, crying because my baby had died and why had this happened? I didn't have any risk factors for ectopic pregnancy, it didn't make any sense to me.  I was rushed into surgery and the burst tube and my baby, no longer living, was removed.

Needless to say, I was devastated, and remained so for several months.  Yet the point of this story is not my sadness or anger or "why me?" attitude, though I did go through all these emotions for quite some time.  The point of this story is that God is good, and sovereign, and works all things together for good for those who love him.  What, you may ask, good can come from a baby dying and my fertility reduced by over 50%? What good can come from grief so deep I didn't know if I would ever find my way back out? Isaiah 55:8-9 tells us,
For my thoughts are not your thoughts, says the Lord.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.

Several things have come to my attention recently.  My doula recently posted this article that hit home for me. I spent so much time angry with my former OBGYN and his staff that they refused to see me when I knew something was wrong.  Yet what if they had? I would have found out that yes, my pregnancy was a TRUE ectopic pregnancy (unlike some in the article) and I would have been pressured to have an abortion.  I thank God for protecting me from this decision.  Yes, I do believe it is better to have lost a tube than to have killed my baby.  Yes, my baby died anyway, but it was an act of God for a purpose.  I believe the purpose of my baby dying in the manner she did (in my heart I know she was a girl) was threefold.

One: My husband's mother died shortly after our baby.  It had been an absolute dream of hers to be a grandmother.  She could talk of almost nothing but us having a baby! When we told her, just days before she passed, about the baby in heaven, her eyes lit up and she said, "I get to be a grandma in heaven!" She was anxious for her pain to end (she had had a stroke and was now dying from cancer), and to be in heaven with Jesus, but the knowledge of a grandchild in heaven waiting for her, I believe, gave her a lot of peace in the very end.

Two: The circumstances of Oliver's conception and birth.  I now only have one fallopian tube (the right).  When I became pregnant with Oliver, we had an early ultrasound to establish due date (I have a very irregular cycle so I didn't really know when I'd ovulated).  The ultrasound tech was astonished to see that Oliver had in fact come from the left ovary.  By the grace of God, the egg that would be come little Oliver traveled alllll the way over to my right fallopian tube to become fertilized.  The tech told us she had read about such phenomenon, but had never seen it, nor known anyone who had seen it, in 15 years of doing ultrasounds. I believe that this happened to testify, tangibly, to the grace and power of God.  Oliver really and truly is a miracle.

Three: It changed my heart.  When my baby died, I got my first taste of what it actually means to yearn for heaven.  No, I didn't ever contemplate suicide or anything like that, but the pain I felt was actually a tool God used to shape and mold me into a more compassionate, caring person.  It also allowed me to truly understand, for the first time, that this world is not my home.  And to be very, very thankful for that.

To close this book (how do I always seem to write SO MUCH??? Sorry about that!), I hope this story encourages someone to know and truly believe that God's power and glory and knowledge are so much higher than our little brains can understand.  When I am in my darkest moments of grief for whatever reason, because of the experience of our first child, I now have peace and a deep understanding that God is in control, even if I don't like the circumstances or I can't quite see the good in the outcome yet.  I think this is best summed up by the words to one of my favorite hymns:

1. When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
   When sorrows like sea billows roll;
   Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
   It is well, it is well, with my soul.
   • Refrain:
     It is well, with my soul,
     It is well, it is well, with my soul.
2. Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
   Let this blest assurance control,
   That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
   And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
3. My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
   My sin, not in part but the whole,
   Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
   Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
4. For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
   If Jordan above me shall roll,
   No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
   Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.
5. But, Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
   The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
   Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
   Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul!
6. And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
   The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
   The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
   Even so, it is well with my soul.