It was exactly 3 years ago last Friday, April 20th, that our world swiftly tilted. 

So last Thursday, April 19th, I paused.

I tried to recollect how I was (who I was?) before April 20th happened. I imagined myself going about my day that was probably nothing far from ordinary. Was I happier? Smile more? Worry less? Calmer? Because that was all before. Before the madness. Before the shatter. Before I ceased to be who I was and started to become who I am now. 

And I think about God, the God of April 19th, and who I thought He was. 

Or more like, who I had made Him out to be.

The God of April 19th looked something like this: He would allow bad things to happen to good people, but not super-terribly-crazy-bad things to happen to anything-above-lukewarm-Christians. Crazy, I know. I probably would not have admitted to believing that, but reaction to circumstance is pretty indicative of what I (and people in general) believe. He was kind and good and somehow it was so much easier to believe because the really ugly-gives-you-goosebumps-nightmares only happened to "other people".

Until they didn't.

And then I was "other people".

And I have come to realize, among many other things over the last three years, that the God of April 19th not only doesn't exist, He never did. I had made for myself a graven image, God as I know Him, instead of the true God that He really is, despite what I want to believe Him to be. And since then, my relationship with Him has become much richer, deeper, and more intimate than I could have ever thought. Suffering takes your heart to places with God that can not be reached in any other way. 

I remember a phrase that I somehow repeated to myself in that ultrasound room when I thought I would die right there of a broken heart: He is still the same...He is still the same...He is still the same. 

And He still is.
 
 

Lots of Bits & Pieces

I suffered through the stomach flu last week. It was several days of discomfort and one day of total misery and yuckiness. I recovered in time to make some fabulous food for Easter weekend.
**
We went to an Easter egg hunt and won an ipod shuffle in a raffle! I felt like I was on The Price is Right, complete with waving arms, whooping, and running towards the front.
**
The Husband is jobless again. It is disappointing in many ways, but not unfamiliar territory. I am relying, not only on God, but also on all the hard earned lessons learned in difficult seasons past. I am leaning hard into focusing on the positives (family time galore!) and enjoying the reconnection with my lover. I know God will not let me go hungry and does care about even my smallest needs.
**
This is our last week with our current Safe Families baby. I think I will actually be sad to see him go! We have decided to expand our acceptable age range to 0-8 and are looking forward to who God brings us next.
**
April 20th marked the two-year anniversary of our devastating ultrasound with Olivia. There was only lingering sadness and a few brief times of painful memories. One comment that still stands out in my mind is when speaking with one of OBs by phone, she said, "Don't do anything heroic." (They wanted to admit me to the hospital because of high blood pressure for the duration of the pregnancy.) Little did she know that I would do the most heroic thing I could think of: continue to love a daughter that was destined to live a brief life. It's an irony that I still shake my head at.
**
We are building bunkbeds! Remember the farmhouse bed we built for ourselves last fall? We are doing farmhouse style bunkbeds (with an arch) for our girls and I couldn't be more excited! We have had the materials for some time now and now that the Husband has lots of free time, we are getting them made. I can't wait to show you the final product!
**
The Husband and I are becoming increasingly interested in pursuing training in Biblical counseling. We have taken an introductory course regarding this and have purchased a book which we are studying independently. We really feel God moving us forward together in this area of ministry and are both looking forward to serving Him together as offer help and healing to hurting people.

I think that catches you up on most of the big happenings in our corner of the world!

A Choice

Friday marked 20 months since we said goodbye to Olivia, our third daughter, our fourth and last child, thusfar. That might seem like a long time to most, but there are moments when it feels like it all happened not that long ago. Time is a good cure, but it does not heal all wounds. After much reflection on the subject, I've come to believe this one simple truth: healing is a choice.


Some physical wounds are shallow and nearly inconsequential, take a paper cut for example. It might hurt for a few seconds, but then you scarcely notice it even happened. Other wounds require more attention, but probably can be handled on your own, like a scraped knee. You wash it up, apply a little antiseptic and a bandage, and you're out riding your bike again in no time. Some injuries require professional help, like broken arms and deep lacerations needing stitches. And other situations, say a severe car accident, might need surgery, a hospital stay, and months of rehab.

I think emotional wounds are somewhat similar. Some are shallow and quickly forgotten. Others might require a little more attention. And still deeper wounds....need work and maybe even professional help.

I've often wondered why some people that I've encountered still seem truly bruised, battered, and broken, even years after their loss. Their personal pain appears raw and fresh. While others, although forever changed by their loss, seem to be working towards healing and reclaiming their joy. I remember feeling angry that after all I had endured, I had to actually work towards mending my heart and spirit. WHAT?! It just doesn't seem fair. But fair or not, I believe it is what is required.

One month after Olivia had died, I remember reading something that convicted me into making a distinct choice: I would focus on Christ instead of on my suffering. And it is a choice I have had to make again and again.  

A choice to heal. 

A choice to live. 

A choice to find joy.

Praying for the choices you face,

A Letter

Dear Sorely Neglected Blog,

It's been far too long, hasn't it? On a few rare occasions over the last couple months, I have thought about deleting you, but that would be like throwing out a journal just because it's been awhile since the last entry. I would never do that and I still have journals from 10 years ago to prove it. I guess I've just been busy. Busy making new friends, busy cherishing the old ones, busy living life, busy grieving, busy entertaining, busy homeschooling, busy crafting, busy with a little Etsy shop, busy building things, busy decorating. Just. Plain. Busy. And then after so much time passes, I wonder where to even begin. Just pick up where I left off? Jump head-first into the details of my latest project? Tell of all the ways God has shown up in the last few months?

We have celebrated each day that the Husband has had his full-time job and this Thursday will be his 4-month-iversary. We are thankful. Although, I'd be lying if I didn't admit to carrying around a lump of uncertainty in my heart. When bad news has stricken so many times, it leaves one feeling jumpy. I have been relishing the security that a regular paycheck provides and continually reaffirm in my heart that 'it all comes from Him anyways'.

We celebrated 12 years of marriage back in October and decided to forego an anniversary getaway in lieu of decorating our master bedroom. I say 'decorating', as opposed to REdecorating, on purpose. One would have to have had something already decorated in order to redecorate it. With these last several lean years, cans of paint and curtains have been the last thing on our purchasing list. Heck, they haven't even been on the list. But I think God is slowly fanning the flame within me to make my home more of a haven, to use my creative skills to feather my nest, and to really think & plan out how I can make this house a softer place to land. I can't wait to tell you all about the big bedroom projects that the Husband and I undertook together.

My only son turned 3 yesterday and it leaves me feeling bittersweet. I clung to his babyhood so fiercely because of Olivia's death. In God's mercy, Sebastian was still young enough for snuggles, rocking chair lullabies, walks in the stroller, and cries of "Mama". But there is no denying that his baby days are long gone, only to be replaced by a young boy who is smarter than his years, who thinks in paragraphs but talks in fragmented sentences, who is witty but shy, who is crazy about Spiderman/Iron Man/Superman, who loves the measuring tape, who hates baths and still suffers from eczema, and whose favorite song is "Jesus Loves Me", which he refers to as " 's I know".

This time of the year will always leave me missing Olivia more than the other seasons. I discovered I was pregnant just two days before Thanksgiving and the holidays make me think about family more often. We do lots of things as a family, have our family picture taken, hang up the stockings for our family, get together and celebrate with family, and yet, although some 19 months have nearly passed, I am keenly aware that our "whole" family will never be together on this earth. She will always be missing, until the day when everything will be made right. The girls desparately want Olivia to have a stocking to hang up with the others and I'm supposing I will have to get to making one. The rest were hand-made by me and I really should make one to match. I'm thinking only a tiny stocking will do, but my heart needs to brace itself just a bit more before I undertake it. I pray that before Christmas day I will be able to add that little reminder to our holiday decor.

I hope this letter finds you well, dear blog, and all my friendly readers too.

Until I write again,

One Year Ago: Repost

This post was originally published one year ago, September 14, 2009 and it seems just as appropriate today as it did 365 days ago. I have only changed the words to reflect how much time has passed

It has been sixteen long months.
Sixteen months...
...since Olivia left us....
...of snuggling and sleeping with a baby blanket, instead of with a baby...
...of painful memories...
...of trying to put back together the pieces of all that has been broken...
...since the miracle we hoped for was lost...
...of longing for Heaven like never before...
...of spoiling our other three children on earth...
...of trying to make sense of that which just can't be understood...
...of sleepless nights and tear-stained pillows...
...of wondering what Olivia's legacy will be...
...of running to God and running away from Him...
...of imagining how things could've turned out differently...
...of dreaming of how Olivia looks in her Heavenly body...
...of missing the joy of another daughter.

Oh, Olivia. Mommy still cries great big tears for you. How I selfishly wish you were here. It seems like forever since I felt your little fluttery kicks. My heart still aches to have you near and hold you in my arms. Will our family ever feel complete while we are separated by eternity? Will my heart ever feel whole again? I miss you, sweet baby girl. I miss you something awful.

A Brief Glimpse

Written in honor of Olivia's due date, August 2, 2009, exactly one year ago today.

A small spritely girl toddles around the fields of heaven, picking wild flowers. Every bouquet clutched by her warm, chubby fists is beautiful perfection. She grasps splendid colors of pink, yellow, purple and white, only to toss them into the gentle breeze and begin picking again, giggling all the while.

From time to time, she stops to delight in clusters of tasty berries, juice dripping down her petite defined chin. The Son's radiance highlights the auburn streaks in her wispy and unruly jet black hair. She laughs and toddles and laughs some more, pausing to plop down for rest beneath an always azure sky.

The ever-present melody of the heavenly host beckon her to stand and twirl, and as she does, the whisper of another love song caresses her heart, its refrain barely audible across the chasm of eternity. But without even stopping to listen, she already knows the familiar chorus....We love you, Olivia, We love you, Olivia. We love you.

He Carries Me

In Honor of one year without Olivia (05.14.09) ~

There were photographs I wanted to take; things I wanted to show you....

:: my niece and daughters, except for Olivia ::

:: an (almost) family Christmas picture ::

People say that I am brave but I`m not. Truth is I`m barely hanging on.
But there`s a greater story, written long before me, because He loves you like this.

So I will carry you, while your heart beats here.
Long beyond the empty cradle, through the coming years.

I will carry you, all my life.
And I will praise the One who`s chosen me to carry you.

Such a short time, such a long road. 

All this madness, but I know 

 that the silence has brought me to His voice and He says....

I`ve shown her photographs of time beginning, walked her through the parted seas, 

 angel lullabies, no more teary eyes.

Who could love her like this?

P. S. These words are taken from the lyrics of the song "I Will Carry You" by Selah based on Audrey Caroline's story, which you can read about at Bring the Rain. I think these simple words sum up the course of this last year better than any earthly words written by me could.

A Tilted Planet

I am in a renewed season of mourning. Kind of like renewing a lease. Only worse. Now that you know, I don't have to explain why more than a third of the month is gone and this little blog has been too quiet. I guess know it's because April 20, 2009 was the date we had our level 2 ultrasound and my world shifted on it's axis. (My true north was no longer near the pole anymore, but maybe more like somewhere in Canada.) And the anniversary of that date draws near. The memories are still nothing but painful, although now more of a dull ache instead of a raw piercing.

I have the best of intentions when it comes to making new blog posts. I get inspired. I take pictures, trying to find the best light. But when I imagine myself trying to sound giddy happy pleased about, oh, I don't know, a new recipe let's say, it just seems hollow. Because the grief has settled in again, following me wherever I go. 

Don't mistake me, there are moments of sweetness. I have been happy (at times) about Spring. I have felt swollen amazement when I look up at a crystal clear sky full of stars (no more winter cloud cover)! I have felt tickled at using my grill on warm Spring evenings and thinking about new and tasty grilled foods and side dishes. I have been totally inspired by my discovery of Foodzie (where have you been all my life?), which is like etsy, only for tasty, hand-crafted, natural artisan foods. I have enjoyed digging in my plots of earth  and planting little seeds. Tatiana and I were over-the-moon to get a box full of school books for next year. I even took pictures! 

But last year's memories linger, like a broken tooth that your tongue just can't seem to leave alone. Especially on days like Friday, when instead of my mail lady bringing books to my door, it was a slightly confused trucker with a small granite headstone on his dolly. 

Apparently, this delivery trucker usually takes his loads to the cemetery, not to a little white house with a homemaker nervously waiting at the front door.

"Do you get this kind of delivery here often?" he asked, slightly puzzled.

"No, sir..... Hopefully it's the only one I'll ever need."

And even that one has been almost more than I could bear.

P.S. Keyboard Soup. (Mom, you know what I mean.)

Clinging,

Of all.

We received a lot of really nice gifts for Christmas. Things that I will truly enjoy. But the best gift of all didn't have a price tag and wasn't purchased at a store. It was from my 83 year-old grandmother; she just didn't know it at the time. While visiting her home on Christmas Eve, we enjoyed a nice Polish meal and began to open gifts. I crossed the room for some reason and noticed a picture frame sitting next to her television. The frame said, "Families are forever" and inside were some things to remember Olivia by: a card that we had given out at her funeral, tiny hand-cut angels, Olivia's footprints hand-cut out of a memory card. My grandma has been suffering from arthritis for God-only-knows how long and for some time now is either unable to do the things she loves, like knitting, crocheting, and sewing and has taken to wearing hand/wrist support gloves for most of the time. I can only imagine the time and (possible) pain that she had to endure to hand-cut all these little decorations and the love that such sacrifice requires. In that very moment, I was nearly reduced to a puddle just thinking about it. And then she proudly declared,

"Olivia is still a part of our family."

And to my husband she whispered under her breath,

"She is waiting for me."

And that made the best Christmas memory of all.

One of us

One of us had the most amazing Christmas possible.

One of us is in a place where Christmas is celebrated everyday, not just on December 25th. One of us could hear the angels singing, instead of singing about angels. One of us has the complete peace, joy, and love that all the Christmas songs refer to.

That is because one of us is already with the One for whom Christmas is all about.

One day, we will all celebrate Christmas together as a family.

Forever and ever.

 

Merry 1st Christmas Olivia! You were loved and missed around our Christmas tree.

Just a Box

I'm sure it must've been a lovely sentiment at the time. In all honesty, it could've been I who bought the item to stash away until the appropriate season. Whoever it was is irrelevant, I suppose. It's just another insight into how something so seemingly harmless as unpacking Christmas decorations can reduce a fully-grown woman to tears.

What should've been Baby's 1st Christmas, as the ornament in the photo suggests, will be the first Christmas without our baby. People say that the first holiday is the hardest. I sure hope that is true.

It's difficult for other people, especially some that love us best, to understand why we are taking a different approach to this Christmas season. But it's because of things like unpacking a ornament or a family photo that doesn't quite feel complete or wondering if Olivia will even be remembered around the Christmas tree, that give us pause. And pause we should, if we are not to miss the true meaning of the holiday.

And as I sit here, blurry-eyed with tears, God gently reminded me that along with being heart-broken about a box, I can be heart-filled about a different box. The one that held a baby some two-thousand years ago. And so, I guess that is just what I'm gonna try to do.

Thinking about a box,

Missing for Five

I think this quote I stumbled upon says it best:

For a short time, I had your body in my body.
I carried your belly in my belly.
And now, though I have your heart in my heart and feel your soul in my soul,
I will never have your hand in my hand.
I miss your life in my life.

I have been missing Olivia for five months now. Missing the way she would've fit into our lives, the way she would've been growing, the joy she would've brought, the sleepless newborn nights and endless warm snuggles. Missing her life in mine.

Quatro Meses

It has been four long months.

Four months...

...since Olivia left us....

...of snuggling and sleeping with a baby blanket, instead of with a baby...

...of painful memories...

...of trying to put back together the pieces of all that has been broken...

...since the miracle we hoped for was lost...

...of longing for Heaven like never before...

...of spoiling our other three children on earth...

...of trying to make sense of that which just can't be understood...

...of sleepless nights and tear-stained pillows...

...of wondering what Olivia's legacy will be...

...of running to God and running away from Him...

...of imagining how things could've turned out differently...

...of dreaming of how Olivia looks in her Heavenly body...

...of missing the joy of another daughter.

Oh, Olivia. Mommy still cries great big tears for you. How I selfishly wish you were here.  It seems like forever since I felt your little fluttery kicks. My heart still aches to have you near and hold you in my arms. Will our family ever feel complete while we are seperated by eternity? Will my heart ever feel whole again? I miss you, sweet baby girl. I miss you something awful.

Missing at the Zoo

       Dear Olivia,

       Today would've been your first trip to the zoo. If things had gone as I had planned, you would be only a few weeks old by now. With that considered, you probably would've slept through most of this outing! I found myself missing you a lot today. Maybe because today fell into the 'special family outing' category and so my motherly heart just felt incomplete without you here. While driving to Madison, I even looked back several times in the mini-van, trying to imagine your little car-seat there, amongst your brother and sisters. Would I have had to 'shush' them so as not to wake you up? Your big brother would not have understood. Maybe by now, you would have adjusted to his screeeeches and learned to sleep through them.

       We traveled with another family, some of our nearest and dearest friends. While stopping at a restaurant on the way, Mommy's friend let me carry their one-year-old baby girl inside. I loved unbuckling her from her little carseat and the feeling of her weight of against my body. That was a gift to me. I managed to croak out some words of thanks, but I'm not sure my friend could really understand that gift of just letting me hold her daughter. It made me miss you more and less, all at the same time. We used the double stroller at the zoo, although one seat remained empty for most of the time. I thought it fitting though. You should've been there, Olivia, in that empty seat.

       Your sisters were so excited to move from exhibit to exhibit. Your brother though, was just anxious to find a way to get out of that stroller! I think he was tired of being strapped in. I know you wouldn't have minded though, being so little. Would we have taken the snuggly along for you to ride in? Or maybe the baby sling? It was such a beautiful day. Perfect weather for a newborn, really. It was kinda ironic in a way, because it was raining and drearily miserable at home, but mildly warm with sunny blue skies at the zoo. In my version of Heaven, the weather would be just like it was today.

       Your dad and I read many of the signs that accompanied each exhibit, trying to fit in some learning for your sisters along the way. At one particular stop, we watched an American Black Bear roaming around his fake habitat. At about the same time, both Dad and I read that the black bear babies are born weighing less than a pound-and-a-half. I cradled my arms and cried out, "That was about the size of Olivia!" It was amazing to look at that big black bear and think that once upon a time he was just so itty bitty.

       We built some nice memories as a family today. Even though you were not physically here, sweet girl, you were ever present, my thoughts of you intertwined with those memories being made. On our way home, despite some lingering sadness, I remember looking out the window, sunglasses on, warmth on my face and being reminded of my devotional this morning on Deuteronomy 30:19 about a choice that I have. A choice that has been so hard for me to make, to just keep on living and not let myself wither away inside. But I think you would've been proud of me as your Momma today. Because in that moment, even though I was missing you terribly, I said to myself, "I choose life." And that was a great moment, I think. It is only more evidence of how someone so small (you!) has had such great impact, even beyond the grave.

       I'm sure your day was perfect today, as I would think all days in Heaven are. Just know that even though you are gone from this earth, you are not forgotten and are still missed dearly. Especially on days like today.

       Love,

       Mommy

Shoulda been

I have scheduled and rescheduled this post so many times that I've lost count. I wrote this not too long after Olivia died, but at the time felt that it sounded very much like I was wallowing in my sea of grief and almost seemed just too sad to publish, if you can gather that. I decided to save it and have actually read it time and time again for my own benefit. So, I am posting it today, August 2, 2009, in honor of Olivia's due date. Even if I am not consumed with the Shoulda beens as much as I was in the early days, I still think it gives excellent insight into the type of grief I've experienced. Here is the post, in it's entirety, which has been waiting for this day:


Once upon several weeks ago, Hubs was having a really bad morning. He was truck driving, but not driving the 'usual' truck & just couldn't figure this 'new' one out. The thing just wouldn't cooperate. So he calls me for some prayer. At 5:58. AM! {You mean people are actually awake & functioning at that hour? But I digress.} Anyways, I pray for him for awhile, then fall back asleep. He calls again at 6:21 AM for more prayer. Yes. It was that shocking to my system that I remember the *exact* time. I told him if this continued all day, I'd have to hire a nanny just so that I could effectively be his prayer warrior. This time, he had gotten the gears figured out {praise God!}, but was upset about how much time had been wasted. He should've been so much farther along than he was. He shoulda been way down the road, but he was only not-as-far along. And what did I have the nerve wisdom to say?



Don't worry about where you should've been. All you can do is focus on where you are now.



I've thought about that morning from time to time, what I told him {those words stayed with him for the rest of the day}, and boy does that medicine taste pretty yucky now! Sometimes my thoughts are filled with Shouldas, especially on Sundays when the 'new' pregnancy week would have started. So this last Sunday it was 'Shoulda been 33 weeks pregnant'. Shoulda been bringing up the bassinet & cleaning up the car seat. Shoulda been planning a co-ed nursery, picking out paint, sewing new curtains. Shoulda still been working on Olivia's middle name {we never did end up giving her one}. Shoulda been getting back massages from Hubs due to pregnancy back pain. Shoulda been cherishing little kicks and bumps and tumbles from Olivia. Shoulda been feeling excited, nervous, happy, anxious.

And then I remember my own advice. There is nothing I can do about where I Shoulda been. Nothing. All I can do is focus on where I am now.

I guess the hard part about doing that is that so much of what I am grieving is what Shoulda been. Since we didn't know Olivia outside of the womb, it is not even so much that I am grieving her, just grieving over.....what Shoulda been, but never will be. I think ahead to her first Christmas. Shoulda been. I think ahead to May 14, 2010. Shoulda been. To all the games of "attack the dad" where there Shoulda been four little bodies piled on top, instead of only three. To girly times together where one of my girls will always be missing. A million Shoulda beens.

Focusing on now means coming face-to-face with the idea that I will forever have an Olivia shaped hole in my heart. Until the day that I die. And that thought is just so, so painful. But it also means, trying to enjoy this moment. Hugging my babies here on earth. Crying when I need to. Laughing when I can. Praying that joy, for me, is right around the corner.


Longing for what Shoulda been~

On Sunday Morning

I had to leave the room.

I'm not exactly sure why. Everyone around me was worshiping and praising. I was just crying. I thought it best to just excuse myself before I really started sobbing and began to distract other people. The songs were, I would say, more devotional than they were uplifting. {What's the opposite of uplift??}

You know how 'they' say that your greatest strength can also be your greatest weakness? Well, sometimes when I start thinking along a certain track, it is very difficult to switch tracks. Sometimes this is a great asset for those tasks that require a lot of focus. Sometimes it is just inconvenient and difficult when the timing is wrong. It's especially difficult to 'change lanes' when that line of thinking involves Olivia. Now, back to my story.

So there I was, already on the Olivia track, with these emotionally intense songs offered for worship, and it was. Just. Too. Much. I quietly left the room and headed for the car. I do have to mention that the Husband, much to his credit, did come after me to make sure I was okay. I wish I could've had better reasons for him, but I could hardly understand myself at the moment.

The weather was so perfect. There was a really big tree in front of me that was somehow calming to look at and I could hear the birds singing. Little did I know that as I appreciated the serene surroundings, He was setting the stage for my own personal time of worship. I opened my Bible to make sure the verse I have come to love was still there. Yep. It was.

I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living! Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord! (Ps. 27:13-14)

I love to personalize that Scripture for myself, praying it back to Him and did so that morning as well. HE then led me to 1 Corinthians 15.

...You foolish person! What you sow does not come to life unless it dies. And what you sow is not the body that is to be, but a bare kernel, perhaps of wheat or of some other grain. But God gives it a body as He has chosen, and to each kind of seed it's own body....There are heavenly bodies and earthly bodies, but the glory of the heavenly is of one kind, and the glory of the earthly is of another...So it is with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable; what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power.

Even now, as I type, my eyes are flooded with tears at these thoughts. I sat there, riveted, imagining Olivia. Coming to life because of her death. My bare kernel. If you could have seen how broken her little body was, you would be able to truly understand how much these verses mean to me. Her body which perished in my womb...now imperishable. Sown in the ground in weakness. Raised to heaven in power. A glorious heavenly body.

And I received comfort there. Reading and rereading. Immense comfort. When I left for church that morning, I never expected Him to meet me there. But He found me. Sitting quietly in the front seat of a rusty mini-van.

Wordless Wednesday

P.S. I know this is supposed to be 'wordless', but I can't help but add additional details. Olivia's name was written by To Write Their Names in the Sand. You can see Olivia's memory post here.

Remembering Her Birthday: 05/14/09

Dear Olivia,

One month gone by and I miss you terribly. I wish I were still enjoying your little kicks and tumbles, instead of visiting your grave today. Mommy loves you so, so much and is still broken-hearted about not having you here. I can't wait for the day when I get to see you again in your new beautiful body to match your sweet little spirit. Love you, dear daughter.

Mom

Tidbits

Sienna inspired the title of this post. She asked today what 'tidbits' are, then practiced using the word. Mama's definition was pretty close. So, here, little girl, is your official definition:

tid*bit: –noun

1.	a delicate bit or morsel of food.

2.	a choice or pleasing bit of anything, as news or gossip

This post will mostly be the second one, although I don't know how pleasing, with a little bit of the first one mixed in. So here they are, in no particular order, pieces of my life.

**********

A few weeks ago, Tatiana was running on the treadmill, while her dad was biking next to her. I think she likes to do that so that her & dad can have some special time together. She told me that after her 'workout', she went over to the corner of the basement and stood next to the bassinet. The one that Olivia would have used. She told me that made her really sad. Seven-year olds grieve too. That nearly broke my heart.

**********

I am reading lots of books. Devouring them actually. I am so not a book reader. I love cookbooks, does that count? I loooooove magazines, but novels, notsomuch. I needed a diversion after Olivia's diagnosis, so I started reading. So far I've polished off four Sophie Kinsella books, Holding Onto Hope, one Yada Yada Prayer book, and Waiting with Gabriel. Guess I'm just that much closer to meeting my 2009 goal.

**********

I went to Target the other day to pick-up some bigger sized onesies for Sebastian. To most people, this seems like a relatively easy task, except for the fact that they are located in the baby aisle with lots of other baby items for soon to be born little babies. I nearly broke down crying. Why can't they just keep them with the Men's undershirts?

**********

My sister-in-law {might as well just refer to her as my sister for that matter} sent me an email a little while back about her tears for Olivia. The thing that sticks out the most (and makes me smile even now at her preparedness} is how she described that she had already mentally arranged her mini-van seating chart for where all the carseats would go when she would watch all my kids. Just reminds me that I'm not the only person who had plans for Olivia that would never see them come true.

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It's just so cruel that a Mama's milk has to come in when there is no baby to drink it. Didn't my boobs get the memo? It's almost like my body's own way of weeping. The leaking is just a constant reminder that Olivia's not here. So cruel.

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I went to pick-up the book Waiting with Gabriel at the library the other day. It's another family's personal story about their adverse prenatal diagnosis & how they too prepared to say Hello & Goodbye to their son, all in the same breath. I was trembling as I approached the desk to ask for it, as it was on special hold. Would the librarian notice the title? Would she ask why I was checking out the book? She didn't. I left with tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat.

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I fell in love with a scone recipe from Julia Child for buttermilk scones. I add orange zest & dried cranberries and have made them about a half-a-dozen times in the last few weeks. Could that have anything to do with the few pounds I've gained? Speaking of Julia Child, I can't wait to see the movie coming out called Julie & Julia. Right up my alley. The other recipes I've savored just recently have been this Key Lime Pie & Iced Coffee. Another 2009 goal that I'm closer to completing.

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As Sienna's karate class was ending today and the next one was beginning, the waiting area filled up with babies. Seriously. There were two baby girls, one baby boy and a toddler girl, all seemingly looking at me. I thought I would stand up and scream. I didn't. But inside I did.

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I don't sleep very well. Even with taking a sleeping pill, I just don't. I don't know if it's because I am so busy taking care of house, laundry, three children during the day that I don't have time to process or grieve, so it all starts slowly seeping out, then pouring out, at night? Because that's when I finally have time to sit down & catch up on the blog happenings that sometimes leave me in tears? At least I can be somewhat productive. Like scheduling my blog posts for 7:00 am, so that you won't know that it was really typed at 1:55 am, the morning of.

Off to search for zzzzzzzs~

Blame

This will probably be a week of sharing a lot of my thoughts. The Good. The Bad. The Downright Ugly. They are starting to pile up. Here goes.




I blame myself.




For Olivia's trisomy and ultimately for her death. Even if that doesn't make sense.

Rewind....
It was two days before Thanksgiving when the pregnancy test read positive. I purchased the test, along with all the groceries needed for my Thanksgiving dinner for 20. Oh, how I wanted to just cancel Thanksgiving. Can we please just call all the guests & tell them not to come? I bawled. I locked myself in the bathroom. I didn't even tell Hubs what the test said. Guess the red eyes, blotchy face & hyperventilating when I got out of the bathroom gave it away. This pregnancy wasn't planned {not by me at least}; it wasn't even Sebastian's first birthday yet.

Fast forward...
The words no mother wants to hear, "Trisomy 18", "Incompatible with life", "Fifty-percent stillbirth rate". And so I blame myself. I deserve this suffering. If only I would've wanted Olivia from the very beginning, God wouldn't be punishing me this way. That is the biggest If Only. There are other smaller If Onlys too. If only I would've taken my prenatal vitamins. If only I wouldn't have said in the ultrasound room, "I don't want to raise a child that is severely disabled." If only I would've prayed harder. It must be my fault because I'm the Mama; she was inside of me. At least I could've carried her to full term so that I could meet her alive, face-to-face. But No. I couldn't even get that right.

I recently opened my journal & these are the words I wrote, nearly one year ago:

07.10.08
I do think, often, that suffering in my life is because I did something wrong or is a punishment from God. It's not too often that I associate suffering for doing good or what is right. I do believe that suffering strengthens my faith in the Lord. When times are extremely tough, I find myself praying more than usual. I don't think I have yet learned how to "embrace" suffering. I need to have a clearer mind now about the peace and purpose of suffering in my life.

One year and heaps of suffering later and part of me still believes that. And then I read parts of Job. And then I read 2 Chronicles 31:20-32:1. And then I read Ps. 103:10, "He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities" and Romans 8:1-2 "Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death". And His Word tells me something different than what my sinful flesh {and Satan} wants me to believe.

So what does this mean for me now? That even if I did sin by not counting Olivia as an immediate blessing, that God does not punish me accordingly. It's still just so hard not to thnk that 'I got what I deserved'. Most of me knows that it really wasn't my fault. That there really wasn't anything I did wrong or could've done differently to change the outcome. It's easier when there's someone to blame though, don't ya think? Even if it's ourselves? Because the alternative, well........the alternative would be to wrestle with God about why He allowed this suffering to pass through His hand. The rest of my journal entry from nearly a year ago gives me a glimpse at the anwser:

"Testing and suffering are not our enemies. In fact, they may be our allies in producing in us the sweetness of the character of Christ and in deepening our dependence on Him."