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.

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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.

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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.

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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?

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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~

Why share?

Me again. But then, who did you expect?

I need to follow-up on my post the other day, but really wanted to make sure that my words didn't just get lost in the comments section. I want ya'll to know that I realize some of my thoughts are irrational. That they don't make sense. That they probably, at times, go against what my God has told or promised me. That sometimes those thoughts are in total conflict with each other. That sometimes I just plain don't know what to think or how to feel. And I'm so grateful that the collective 'You' are there to point me back to His word, just hear me out, or share your own story.

Most of the time our blogs are like better versions of our selves. They are our best foot forward. Kinda like a first date. Or a re-touched glossy magazine cover. We try to leave a good impression and, maybe for some people, a different impression of who we really are. I've always tried to keep it pretty real around here, yet for a girl who's used to writing about new recipes or craft ideas, some of these posts are just down-right scary to publish. Even with many of my earlier thoughts on Olivia's diagnosis, her death, the grief, I've kept it........nicer. No need to make anyone squirm at their computer desk. But recently, two things have happened: I've run out of energy to make my posts nice and pretty, just to make sure no one is uncomfortable reading them, and secondly, I don't think God wants me to.

Letting you in close enough to watch me try to make sense of it all or give you a glimpse of my aching heart is....well...it isn't easy. It probably seems like a radical change from happy-go-lucky-suburban-homeschooling-mom to grief-stricken-brokenhearted-wrestling-with-God-mom. {Although much has changed, much of me has stayed the same & a lot of what has changed has done so for the better.} And even though some of what I write might seem totally foreign to you, I want to be transparent anyways. So that you have a glimpse into what I'm going through, if you're not familiar with this side of grief, in order to comfort someone else. So that if you are in that sad, painful place, you'll know you're not alone. That I am there. That He is there.

Judging from some of the more personal comments and private emails, I know this is how He wants me to continue. {For the record, it's not that I'm convinced that I am to blame. Just sharing that part of my process.} The journey isn't over. And so I'll continue to share it. Because even from that very first moment in the ultrasound room, I knew.


He chose me for this.



HE chose ME for THIS.




And I still believe it.

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."

18 Months of Spunky

I am a big 'ole grouch today. Besides that, I am so *exhausted* I can barely lift my limbs to move around. Those things aside, I couldn't miss the chance to share my thankfulness for my 18 months with Sebastian Judah, aka Spud. It was on December 5, 2007 that my first son was born.

*blink*

And there he is today. My big brown-eyed, bottle lovin', chupy needin', blankie draggin', finger pointin', tantrum throwin', eczema sufferin', mischief makin', book readin', spoon feedin', cuddly clingin' little boy.

Once you have lost a child, you have a whole new perspective, love, and appreciation for the ones you do have. Oh, how my heart swells for this little fella!

5-30-09: A Hard Day

I made it through Saturday {obviously}, which was Olivia's memorial service. A hard, but good day. I was a train-wreck on Friday night, but I decided to write out some thank you cards as therapy. It helped guide my heart from a woe-is-me attitude to one of gratefulness. In case you were unable to attend, I thought I share some of the small details of the day. I am so proud of how Olivia's program turned out. I love the photos I chose. The cover says:

Once upon a time, there was a hope. Hope of a new life, another daughter, a beloved sister, a precious granddaughter, an adored niece. A hope of beautiful memories to be made, a hope of a family of six, the hope of a sweet little girl. We named that hope.....Olivia.

Tatiana helped me pick out corsages for all the grandmothers and I bought one for each of my daughters as well. I lovingly presented each one, telling the person that it was so that everyone would know that they are Olivia's grandma or big sister. Just another way of trying to make the day 'special'.


I worked for hours on making two photo boards of some of our memories with Olivia. This was really healing for me. Weird, I know. I think it's that whole creative process thing. I have them sitting on my mantle for the time being & enjoy looking at them every night before I go to sleep.




We worshipped. We cried. We watched a beautiful slideshow set to the song 'Homesick' by Mercy Me. We were all touched by the beautiful song that I mentioned here, which was sung by my dear friend Stephanie. My husband gave the 'message', if you will, and shared much of our story. He's not much of an emotional guy, so when I say that he was having a hard time getting through it, you'll know how really difficult it was for him to share.

I knew I wouldn't have the strength to speak publicly, so I decided to write something included in the program. If you only knew how many drafts I went through before coming up with the end result; I was nearly driving myself crazy. Everything just seemed too....fake. Like I was only writing 'nice' things, so that no one would feel uncomfortable. I think what I wrote is heart-felt, yet honest:

That day in the ultrasound room was the worst day of my life. I will never forget the doctor's words, "There's a lot going on here....". The next few weeks were an agonizing roller coaster of hope & despair. I lived 'stuck' between praying for a miracle and planning for the probable. The hardest part was having the courage to love Olivia, even knowing that I would probably have to let her go. I thought my heart would break into a million pieces, but even so, this Mama just couldn't help to love her daughter fiercely. My constant prayer was for God's mercy, whatever tha might look like for me. He knew best & chose to take her Home on Mother's Day. I have never longed for Heaven like I do now, knowing that I will see Olivia again. Only Jesus makes that possible, so I will hold onto Him with all that I have until I see her again. Oh, how I love Olivia more than words could ever say.

I am so glad that I had the chance to thank and hug everyone who was there & had been a part of ours and Olivia's lives. {Since many of you are a part of our journey as well, I will fill you in on a little project I have for you in a upcoming post.} After the service, we enjoyed lots of sweets, drinks, and fellowship with our friends.

It was a really hard day.

Terrible, yet beautiful all at the same time.

With the socks?

It must be around here somewhere. In the hall closet? Nope. Junk drawer? Uh-uh. Kids' overflowing toy box? No luck. Maybe it ended up where all the socks mysteriously go to when you put two in the washer but only one comes out in the dryer? Not a chance. What am I looking for?


My old life.


I know, though, that it is gone for good. Never to be seen again. I miss it though. And I am still adjusting to this new one, trying to at least feel comfortable in my own skin. I feel like I'm trying to put together a 5000 piece puzzle, except without the picture on the box as a reference. There is some frame here {I *always* put those straight-edged pieces together first}, but it seems like it will be a long time before I figure out what this new life is supposed to look like & how all the pieces will fit together.

There was a time when I just desperately wished I could've turned back the clock to a time when my life was less painful & complicated. I know, of course that that isn't possible, and besides, there is an appreciation and spiritual awareness to this new life that I'm living. I feel like there is a certain beauty to the different person that I've become {is it conceited to say that?} because of the sweet brokenness that Olivia has brought to my life. But at the same time, there are so many rough and broken edges to me that just feel so....unfamiliar. I apologize in advance if I accidentally hurt you with one of those jagged pieces of me. I really would never mean to. There have also been plenty of times, from our T18 diagnosis up until the present, that I wish the clock would just spin forward a year or so, but I know, yet again, that there would be so much that I would miss. So much that I need to go through, not just get over.

And so I'm just gonna stop looking for it, my old life. Hopefully, wherever it went, it has some nice, clean unmatched socks to keep it company.

My Creative Touch

What else can I do at a time like this other than make creative stuff to include in Olivia's memorial service? I guess creativity is just such a part of me, it can't help but show itself during whatever season of life I'm in. Here's just a small part of what I worked on today:




Those are each of my daughter's hands, holding something meaningful to our life with Olivia. I had previously scanned Olivia's footprints, so I've been using those as accents to the program and handouts for her service. Maybe people will think they are just a cute little pink decoration, but I think it's all the more special that they are her actual footprints! I have this intense need to make everything as special as possible. I think it's because I feel like this is the last thing we will ever do for Olivia. I don't know if other parents who have gone through this have felt that way or not. Having lots of little details to take care of is pretty exhausting, not to mention the grief itself, but it is kinda healing in a way to be able to do all of these creative little things for my daughter. Guess it's just another small way of expressing my love for her.

Holding on to Hope...

...is the title of a book sent to me by my wonderful blogging friend Saralyn. Subtitled, A Pathway through Suffering to the Heart of God, the author's words are both amazing, encouraging, and soul-piercing all at the same time. I cry every time I pick it up. It reminds me of exercise in a way: I really don't *want* to do it, but I know it's good for me & I'll feel better after I do. Yesterday, my mom was here babysitting & when we returned she said, "I picked up that book and started reading it. How does she know exactly what I'm feeling?" Drawing on her own personal journey through painful {infant} loss, the chapters are short, but cut straight to His truth, based on the book of Job. I'm sure this won't be the last time I share about how God is changing me through what I've read....

Yesterday's chapter was titled "Mystery". It reflected on how we feel when God just isn't speaking to us, when it seems like He's silent as we're seeking answers or attempting to understand our suffering. Job can relate. I can relate. And I'm sure most of you can too. Job questioned. He struggled for it all to make sense. God didn't explain. He only answered Job's questions with more questions: Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Have you ever in your life commanded the morning...? Have you entered the springs of the sea or walked in the recesses of the deep? Have you entered the storehouses of the snow, or have you seen the storehouses of the hail...? {emphasis mine}

The author explains that God didn't reveal His plan to Job and He doesn't reveal everything to us either. Instead He reveals Himself. But it was one short sentence in the chapter that stopped me in my tracks. The rest of what I read was a blur because all I could think about was these seven difficult words:

God does not owe us an explanation.

And still now, it's so true, but yet I can't get 'past' that truth. After that sentence the author goes on to say that if He did explain the reason for our suffering, we think it would make the suffering easier. But would it? I'd have to agree with her that, no, it would not make the pain more bearable. I would not cry any less tears. My heart would not be any less broken if I knew the whys or what fors.

Over the last weeks, I've felt like the more I learn about God, the more mysterious He seems {if that makes any sense} and the more sovereign I believe Him to be because it is revealed more and more to me that 'His ways are far above our ways'. And so I dare not even ask why {although all along I've always known the answer, which I'm sure I'll share in another post} and I pray I'll come to accept that He doesn't owe me an explanation for my pain. Moreso, I hope that, like Job, since I know who God is, I will be able to accept what God gives , even when I don't understand it.

Still Holding On~

While I Wait

This is the song I picked to listen to while viewing Olivia's obituary online for the first time. Here is a simple video of the song in case you are unfamiliar with it.






While I'm Waiting

I'm waiting
I'm waiting on You, Lord
And I am hopeful
I'm waiting on You, Lord
Though it is painful
But patiently, I will wait

I will move ahead, bold and confident
Taking every step in obedience
While I'm waiting
I will serve You
While I'm waiting
I will worship
While I'm waiting
I will not faint
I'll be running the race
Even while I wait

I'm waiting
I'm waiting on You, Lord
And I am peaceful
I'm waiting on You, Lord
Though it's not easy
But faithfully, I will wait
Yes, I will wait
I will serve You while I'm waiting
I will worship while I'm waiting
I will serve You while I'm waiting
I will worship while I'm waiting
I will serve you while I'm waiting
I will worship while I'm waiting on You, Lord


And just as in the days following our T18 diagnosis, I find myself waiting again. Waiting for the heartache to dull a little. Waiting for Him to lead me from the darkness into the light. Waiting for the day when I can see Olivia again.

Trying to be faithful in the wait~

One Month Ago...

One month ago today, I awoke to a seemingly normal day. Showered. Got dressed. Had breakfast. The usual. My mom arrived late morning to care for our munchkins & Hubs and I headed off to our level II ultrasound appointment. I remember the weather being unseasonably nice. We stopped at Panera and grabbed some lunch, eating in the car as we drove along. I got us lost {I thought I remembered the directions.....} and we arrived at the hospital a few minutes late. We didn't wait too long before being ushered into the ultrasound room. We got to see our beloved Olivia on the BIG flat-panel screen, which Hubs was quite impressed with. They were short staffed, so the tech left and returned several times, trying to get the doctor to come and discuss our results. I remember Hubs saying, "You're not worried, are you?" I did feel a little silly for maybe being too concerned about something that could turn out to be nothing. And then the doctor came in. Rick remembers him saying, "Has anyone talked to you about anatomy?" As he scanned, the doctor typed all sorts of terms on the screen: Dandy Walker. VSD. Left cleft lip/palate. Most of what he said next was a blur, but I remember how he began.

There's a lot going on here.

And that's the moment when I felt like my whole world came crashing down around me. All I could do was scream, alternating between "NO" and "GOD". Unless you've experienced it, I'm not sure I could describe it. It's as if that noise was coming from somewhere down deep in my soul and I just. couldn't. stop. My dear husband, bless his heart, did the best he could. He cried. He held me fiercely. I remember him telling my mom on the phone, "Just pray. It's really bad." I remember that I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eyes. To this day, I still don't know why. Maybe if I could avoid the pain and fear in his gaze that I knew was there, I could convince myself that things weren't so terrible.

No amount of convincing, though, could change the path that our lives had so suddenly careened upon. Trisomy 18 had entered our lives and would change them all forever. And as I sit here, exactly one month later, only 4 weeks between diagnosis and Olivia's death, I'm still shaking my head at the.....suddenness of it all. What happened to my old life? Did it really change in the blink of an eye? Is life truly that fragile?

Since many of you tell me, "Let me know if there's anything I can do....", I think today I will take you up on that offer. Here's what you can do for me: Hug your babies extra tight. Be a little more patient with everyone. Let the dishes soak a little longer and go play in the grass. Give your husband that extra dose of grace that you may not think he deserves, but so desperately needs. Call that friend that you've been estranged from and make things right.

And then, come back and tell me about it. If you don't want to tell me specifics, feel free to simply write: I celebrated life today. It'll give me blessings to focus on, instead of thinking about where I was one month ago. And I think you might just get blessed in the process as well.

Holding On,

Let ME Help YOU

I have heard some of my dear friends express feelings of helplessness during the last few weeks. Sometimes they tell me point-blank that they don't know what to do or what to say. Sometimes the expression is a little more subtle. Sometimes I wonder if people are avoiding me because my grief makes them uncomfortable or because they just don't know what else to do. I came across a series of ten posts on How to Help Your Grieving Friend written by Molly Piper. The series doesn't take long to read through and it's well worth it. I have read each and every post & can say that they offer excellent insight into how grief upends someone's life.

Let me know if you find something particularly insightful.

Proud to Call You My Friends~

No Words

Missing Her,

Bittersweet

**one of my last pregnancy pictures taken the morning we left for the hospital**





Everything is so mixed up right now, I don't even know what to say. I feel such overwhelming gratitude to everyone for all your prayers. Really. In my entire life, I have never felt such love and care or sense of "community", for lack of a better word, as I do now. I kinda feel like I owe it to ya'll to at least say something. So this is my feeble attempt at (yet another) update.

I realize you might be wondering, but I'll have to be brief about this part. The delivery was....traumatic. I just can't think of a more appropriate word to use. It was...uh...very different from a "normal" delivery. There definitely was God's grace in certain respects {relatively painless comparatively & I praise Him for that}, but in other respects, I couldn't find Him there. The details of what happened are perhaps things that no one ever talks about. Things that even "they" don't want to tell you, so that you won't be freaked out beyond belief. I wish I were more prepared. Then again, I don't even know that there is any amount of preparation that could cover a delivery like what I experienced. I really need prayer that I will actually forget certain things. Please pray that God has mercy on my memories.

As for this moment, we are home now. It is quiet here & I am resting. Other than a backache, which I am going to care for shortly, I am not in any physical pain. We have plenty of food, as we went on huge grocery run on Monday {God must've known I needed to stock up}. Thanks to several angels, our house is clean. I mean, white-glove clean. I don't know what I've done to deserve such amazing friends.

We are preparing for a private burial tomorrow, which I know will be bittersweet. This might not make sense to some of you, but I am mostly feeling a sense of relief. Just relief that this leg of our journey is over, even if I did not end as I so fervently prayed that it would. I can not accurately describe the emotional agony that we had experienced over the last several weeks, so to have that specific chapter come to an end is just....relieving. It has been replaced with a sadness and pain that is altogether different. But like I keep telling others, I am just grieving for myself and my family and what we have lost, not actually for Olivia, if you can gather that.

As I was being wheeled through the hospital to leave, I was crying to myself that I am leaving this place without being able to bring Olivia home. And in that moment I distinctly felt Him say...


...She already is.


Thanking Him for all of You~

Here~

Olivia was delivered, please continue to pray.

Update~ *updated at bottom*

Friend filling in for Ric and Becki:

Please continue to pray for Becki in her delivery of Olivia. They went to the hospital yesterday morning and Bec was started on Pitocin at 8am. Throughout the day only mild contractions. They stayed the night and she has now been started on a stronger medication, if in 4 hours there is no change they with make the dose even stronger. She is dilated to 1 and needs to get to 6.

Thank you so very much to all who are praying, and the encouraging comments given, I know that it means the world to them in this very difficult time.

*I will continue to update anything the family wants me to on this post, so please feel free to continue to check in and PRAY! *

Becki's water has broke and she is now at 2. They have doubled the dosage again so that things continue to move along. Thankfully the dr is determined to help bec deliver today. Thank you again for your continued prayers.

In His Arms

Dear Friends,

I think simply saying what I need to say will be best: Olivia is with Jesus now. I had not been feeling her move for the last day and a half, so this morning we went to the hospital just to check. Little Olivia's heart had, in fact, stopped beating here on earth, but we know that her body is whole, healed, and playing in Heaven! It is the miracle that we've all been praying for, even if it doesn't look the way we quite expected.

This morning was so beautifully clear and sunny as we drove to the hospital. Truly majestic. I cherished the peaceful car ride, the blue sky, and His warmth on my face. I told my Lord that He created this day and whatever He had for me, I would accept it. I prayed for immeasurable comfort and peace, as I planned to have confirmed what my heart already knew: Olivia was home.

The last three weeks seem like such a whirlwind and at times, it barely seemed like it was truly my own life that I was living. One prayer that has remained constant for me was for God's mercy. I would cry out to Him and tell Him that I didn't know what that mercy looked like for me, but that I needed it so desperately. And He is so gracious to have heard my prayer and granted me what He knew I needed. I know that tomorrow, once again, I will need His mercy more than ever.

Please pray for our broken hearts during this time and especially for me tomorrow, as I begin the induction process at 6 am. I'm sure it will be one of the longest and most difficult days of my life, not only physically, but for my tender heart as well......as I prepare to say Hello and Goodbye all at the same time.

Most Grateful for Your Prayers~

Other People

I think until something really life-shattering happens to us {or to someone we're close to}, we tend to look at circumstances from the vantage point of "other people". I would hear about something truly terrible on the news that happened to a family or a child and maybe gasp out a "OH! How sad!", then carry on my merry way. I would watch a Dateline special, with slight sad surprise at another family's scary circumstance, feeling an invincible distance.

That would never happen to me.

Those kinds of things only happen to other people. I may not have said it out loud, but it was definitely there. We don't think our kids will ever get abducted. We can't believe our children would be victims of a school shooting. My child be sexually abused by someone I trust? Nope. Not mine! Or perhaps it's something like your house being foreclosed on, stumbling upon your spouse's addiction, or hearing your doctor's words: it's cancer. Other people, right? The things is: it's someone's child. It's someone's family. It's someone's life that was shattered in an instant. With a phone call. When an officer showed up at their door. When a drunk driver ignored the red light. When the ultrasound tech took much longer than necessary examining your baby.

I guess I feel like that invincible distance has been taken away and the few family members I've shared this with feel the same way as well. Because of how our lives have changed, I can no longer hear things like I've mentioned and just sigh from my comfortable vantage point. Just yesterday I ran across a news story about a 33 year old woman in Texas who is the first American citizen to die from the swine flu. She was pregnant & her baby was delivered by c-section after she slipped into a coma. Judy Trunell also left behind a 4 year old daughter. And I couldn't just read that, not immediately be stopped in my tracks, and with tears in my eyes start praying for her family.

I am other people now.

HE is my Haven

Yesterday Rick & I visited with a perinatal hospice group in our area called The Haven Network. They provide practical and emotional support for families with adverse prenatal diagnosis {how I wish these words weren't even in my vocabulary} and families grieving through infant loss. Although I am really thankful that this is available to us & feeling a sense of relief regarding some of the details, it was just. Too. Much. I'm praising God that Best-Hubby-Ever was right by my side. He asked the questions & filled in the details that I just couldn't. Later yesterday evening I came across this poem and it was just what I needed to read at the moment.

When you are the neediest,
He is the most sufficient.
When you are completely helpless,
He is the most helpful.
When you feel totally dependent,
He is absolutely dependable.
When you are the weakest,
He is the most able.
When you are the most alone,
He is intimately present.
When you feel you are the least,
He is the greatest.
When you feel the most useless,
He is preparing you.
When it is the darkest,
He is the only Light you need.
When you feel the least secure,
He is your Rock and Fortress.
When you are the most humble,
He is the most gracious.
When you can't,
He can.
~Author Unknown

Sometimes I feel like I just "can't". And now I'm reminded....that I don't have to.

Holding on to Him~

Stitches

In the few days after our level II ultrasound which revealed some of Olivia's imperfections {can you believe that was exactly 2 weeks ago?}, I dug out a bunch of my unfinished cross-stitching projects. I think keeping my hands busy and seeing the seemingly random stitches come together to make something beautiful is just what I needed. It's proved to be calming during a very stormy season. Speaking of......


Tatiana {7 1/2}: Mom, do you think God will answer our prayers and Olivia will be able to come home with us?

Me: I sure hope so! God always answers our prayers, it's just that....sometimes the answer is "no".

T: If God does a miracle and Olivia is healed and is able to live on earth with us, what will we do about the hole in her mouth? {cleft lip/palate}

Me: Well, she'd have to have surgery. They would stitch up that part of her mouth.

T: {thinking} Kinda like cross-stitching..only...on people!

Me: {chuckling} Yep. Kinda like that.

There have been so many precious conversations similar to this one. Tatiana is just....sometimes so wise beyond her years. It has been amazing to see her understand more about miracles, God, life beyond this earth, healing and more. And since this is just as much my childrens' journey as it is mine, I figure I better preserve a few of these sweet talks for us to look back on in the years to come. Hope this one brought a smile for today.

More Blessed than I Deserve~

Joining the Journey

I wish I could comment personally on all your wonderful thoughts, but know that I am thankful beyond words that y'all have decided to join in this journey with us. I've said it before, but I can't tell you how encouraged both Rick & I are when we hear that someone else is praying for us or that someone we've never met is thinking of us. With that in mind, I just wanted to touch on a couple of different ways to "make yourself known".

A bit about a blog....
I know that many of you reading never knew what a "blog" was before visiting us here {it's simply an online journal, in case you haven't yet figured that out}. You might not know all the details of a blog, so I thought I'd give you crash course. I'd love to have you "comment" on my posts: leaving your thoughts, questions, kind words that relate to whatever I've written. To do that, you simply click on the word "Comments", which is located just below the post, to the right of the time it was posted. It will have a number in front of it detailing how many comments there are so far. On the following page, you'll type in your comments and select "anonymous", if you don't have a blogger account yourself. Be sure to sign your name in the comments box, so I know who you are. It's that easy. Go ahead and try it! You're only a couple of clicks away :>)

Mail.....
Can be found on the right sidebar of the blog by clicking on the words "email me". Or to make it easier, it's chefgirl96 [at] yahoo [dot] com. If there is something you want to ask me or have some more personal words or an offer of help, please feel free to email me privately. I *love* email and really, all kinds of mail for that matter. I appreciate you sending me websites of other families that have walked this same road, as it is not something I am able to research myself at the moment. I have a growing collection of those & should probably sort them so that I can find everyone more easily. Even though it is utterly painful to have to read about how another family has suffered, at times this journey feels incredibly lonely since it is not something anyone else we know has been through. We also have a growing collection of cards on our mantle from those that are thinking of us and if you want to send us something via snail mail, please email me for my address.

Phone calls....
Don't be afraid to call me. Seriously. I have caller ID and if I don't feel like talking, I just won't answer. This isn't the case the majority of the time, but really, you're not bothering us. It helps to hear about what's going on in other people's lives, since mine just feels really one-tracked right now. Don't feel badly if something really great is happening in your life! I want to hear about it & be able to celebrate in God's goodness with you.

Again, thank you for your prayers. I probably wouldn't be making it through the days without them. I am privileged to call you my friends and have you walk beside us through these dark days.

With a Heart of Thankfulness,

Faith Like Potatoes

Rick & I watched this movie yesterday and both enjoyed the message it presented. We were both especially struck by the following quote:

The condition for a miracle is difficulty, however the condition for a great miracle is not difficulty, but impossibility.

I think we definitely meet the condition for the second one! I use this phrase now that we are "praying for the impossible, but planning for the probable". We know that God is fully capable of miracles, but we also know that those may not look like what we expect or that He may choose not to do them for His purposes. There are times when I feel like I don't have enough faith to even ask for one. Just yesterday I told Rick that it feels like that mustard seed might as well be the size of a watermelon. Even so, Oh, what I wouldn't give to have Him do a great miracle for Olivia!

Much love,


P.S. Another precious family has just received a diagnosis of Trisomy 18. She found me and commented on my last blog post. Please pray for them and/or send them kind words at her blog: chadandnikki.blogspot.com

Heart Failure

As Olivia gently kicks around while I type this, I believe I might just have heart failure. Not the literal sort, lest you be worried. Heart failure for a reason that I wonder if anyone else can understand:

I am afraid to love her.

I just know that the more I do, the more my heart will break into a million pieces if/when she is taken from me. I am afraid to hold my belly, hoping to feel her moving within, knowing that every kick, every movement only joins my heart a little more with hers. There are times when I am scared to say her name, as every time I do she is that much more a part of our family and lives.

And yet, all the fear aside, I just can't help it. There is nothing anyone can do to keep me from loving my sweet, precious Olivia. Even though it makes no earthly sense to continue to love on, think of, care about, passionately pray for someone who it seems will be gone from me far too soon, I press forward. I am her mama and she is my daughter and there is no medical diagnosis this world can offer up that will ever change that.

Even with my pending heart failure, I am comforted by this verse:

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. Ps. 73:25-26

Oh Lord, please strengthen my failing heart. I thank you for the privilege of loving Olivia.