Grace and a Crappy Birthday

On May 21st a year ago I was rushing to get to my 16 week checkup for my unborn child. I had some anxiety since I hadn't felt movement yet but I constantly talked to myself, "It's fine, you are past the first trimester.  Don't fear what happened before, you'll be fine, the baby is fine." I said a prayer for peace and awaited the Doctor.  What happened after that is a blur.  I just remember the static of the heart monitor and the doctor frantically looking for signs of life.  Tears started to roll down my face as I feared the absolute worst.  The doctor left the room for a second to see if she could order an ultrasound.  I just laid on the table in absolute shock.  She came back and broke protocol.  There was an ultrasound machine in the exam room and she turned it on.  There I got to see my baby for the last time....lifeless.

I fell apart, she asked if I needed time.  I was alone and just wanted out. "I've been through this before, what's next?," I asked through tears.  She explained that I would need a D&C and they would schedule it for me.  "I'm assuming you want it as soon as possible?," she asked.  I nodded yes and she left the room. I remember hearing through the walls the baby monitor of another patient in the next room, the heartbeat was loud and clear.  It was a cruel irony. A nurse came in with a lot of paperwork.  My D&C was scheduled for the 23rd. I signed everywhere she told me to, put on my sunglasses and walked through a crowded waiting room of pregnant women to escape to my car.

Sobbing in the parking lot I call Jerry to tell him the news. I told him everything that had happened and the surgery date.  I told him he needed to come get me, I was too upset to drive.  I ended our conversation saying, "and tomorrow's my birthday."

I mean I've had "bad" birthdays before.  The kind where I was running late, spilled my coffee or got in a fight with someone I loved.  I always had a final on my birthday in high school and college so I knew what it was like to have a bummer birthday.  But I never had a birthday so bleak, so heavy, or so tragic as this day.  It was a birthday of tears.

And so it's been a year. I've mulled over the timing of this tragedy.  I've gotten mad and bitter. I've questioned and cried.  But the number one question I have been asking is, "do I deserve a good birthday?"

My birthday is a day that I virtually had no say in.  I was born, my mom labored and had to recover. She bears the scar that occurred on May 22nd.

So what is it in me that declares my birthday as a "drama free" day?  May 22nd was the day I was born, the end.  It doesn't merit me to have loads of gifts, praise, and adoration.  I don't need to have all the people in my life to make me feel special, I didn't do anything on my birthday to deserve any of this.

As this day approaches, I want to be sad and bitter about the events that occurred last year.   But I am starting to realize that my birth was a gift from God above.  Birthdays are another example of Gods amazing grace.  Grace is defined as:  "the free and unmerited favor of God on sinners who do not deserve it."  I do not deserve a party.....my mom does.  But not once did my mom ask for accolades in her labor.  Not once did she refrain from pouring her love and affection on me year after year when it was a day that she worked so hard for.
And that's the most amazing thing......I get a party for showing up.  I get the gifts, the kind words and affirmations for a day I did not destine.

This year in particular, I get to share a birthday season with another child that I can't hold on my arms.  I get to always remember what true blessing birth is and be grateful to God for His goodness in letting me be a mother to two phenomenal girls.  I get to celebrate birth and the intricacies that come with forming and completing life that only God can do.  I get to give Him the Glory for allowing me to be here on this earth for the short amount of time I have.

I get to celebrate His Grace.  I can undeservingly accept the love that others give me on this day. So on this good or bad birthday I will thank Him. I thank Him for life, birth, and for the special bond I will have with my angel in heaven. I will thank Him for the family I have and the never-ending blessings He bestows on my life everyday. I will thank Him for His word and His presence which has given me hope and allowed me to continue this journey with Him.

I know the best birthday gift I received last year was a verse that I came upon in the first few days after the loss.  Since then it has been my foundation this year.

"Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things." (Philippians 4:8 NASB)

Therefore on this day: my day of birth, I will dwell on these things. I can rest knowing Gods' grace is wrapped up every year into the perfect gift waiting for me to open and accept it no matter what the day brings.

Easter Saturday

I've grown up in the church my entire life. Easter has always been a time where we dress up and spend an enormous amount of time at the church in preparation for the service of the year...Easter Sunday.

Good Friday is another day to pause and contemplate all that Jesus went through on crucifixion day.  There are movies, services and TV shows depicting this atrocity to help us truly grasp this sacrifice.

But for 2 years now I have been thinking about Easter Saturday. The day in between the cross and the empty tomb. I keep thinking about those in Jesus' life.....how were they on Saturday?  Obviously watching the crucifixion brought shock and horror for them but did they even get out of bed the next day?  That day was Sabbath for them, they had no choice but to contemplate on the things they just experienced.

I know the end of this story, I know how it plays out.  But I wonder what went through the minds of Jesus' loved ones on Easter Saturday.

Perhaps they questioned in disbelief:  "He said he was the Son of God, but was he? Wouldn't he be alive? Surely God wouldn't allow this!?"

Maybe they were fearful angry:  "How can you do this God!? What will happen now!? Where will we go? Where are you God!?"

Perhaps they were hopeless: "There is nothing to live for, no more purpose. We have lost our leader, we have no hope."

Maybe they felt guilty: "What if I...? Maybe I could have...?"  Imagine being Peter who denied him 3 times thinking, "I failed him, what if it's my fault?" Or Mary his mother wondering, "Could I have done something more to save him?"

And maybe there were some who were rock solid in their faith. Unwavering they had a hope that something greater would come.

But most likely the people in his life were a little bit of everything, riding on an emotional roller coaster on this Saturday.

I think my favorite part about Easter is not only the part where Jesus raises from the dead (duh), but I love how he responds to his loved ones when he sees them.  He could have come back super irritated thinking, "Did they not learn anything from me!? Get it together people!" He could have gone to the doubters wagging his finger saying, "I told you so."

But instead he let Thomas, who didn't even believe Jesus was standing in front of him, touch the holes in his hands and the gash on his side. He blessed Peter the denier with loads of fish and then ate with him restoring his spirit in conversation.

What God/Jesus did on Easter Saturday is he allowed humans to be human.  He wasn't surprised or angered by the reactions of those around him.  He knows anger, doubt, fear and guilt.....He created them, He felt them.
I know that on any given day I can feel completely secure in God's promises and then the next minute doubt Him.  I can stand firm on His word and then waiver in my circumstances.  I can count my blessings and then worry about my future. But my humanity doesn't surprise Him.

On my days of disbelief, He gently opens my eyes to his scars.  On my days of temper tantrums and denial He restores my spirit.  On days of weeping He collects my tears.  And just as He used every opportunity with a loved one to share His story, I know He will use my shortcomings too.

I think every Easter Saturday will bring a time of reflection for me.  It paints a perfect picture of imperfect humanity and it is another reason why I desperately needed Jesus to save me.  It reminds me that on my best day I am still human.  And God, perfect in all ways, allows me to be human.  He meets me in my humanity, and teaches me through those roller coaster days. Today I am reminded that by grace Jesus came to take a human body and live a human life.  I am forever grateful for his vast forgiveness and perfect love that saved a wretch like me on this Easter Saturday.

Elephants: The Second Child

This "elephants" series began at the first year anniversary of my son's death. I anxiously anticipated it with fear and trembling not knowing how I would handle re-living such a horrible time in my life. My counselor told me the story of elephants when I was speaking to her about my anxiety on this significant date. She told me elephants remember where their loved ones remains are and every year they go to the bones and cradle and caress them lovingly. It's as if they are remembering them with the sweetest of memories and all they meant to them. Never before did I think I could relate to the memory of an elephant. But on or around February 9th, I lovingly remember my boy.

As I sit here and blink, another year has gone. Six years has passed since I held my boy in my arms.

This year is different, strange and just so odd.  This year my memories are clouded, jumbled, and not as distinct.  I have a hard time focusing on the day, hours, and moments of February 9th 2009.  It has really bothered me that I've been struggling with this.  However, thinking through this last year a couple of things have been making more sense....

Loss is a tricky thing.  My most recent loss is taking over, overshadowing and occupying my memories.  It washes together creating one big memory of grief. This anniversary brings memories of both losses, there is little to no segregation and it frustrates me.

It's so hard to explain and express.  The closest thing I can relate it to is having a second child.  A single child means they get your undivided attention.  They are listened to, played with, and cared for at the very moment they need it.  When the second child comes along, things change.  They must wait to speak, play alone at times, and their needs are met when convenient for all involved.

You see I never thought I would have a second lost child, but now that I have, he/she is taking up my memory space and clouding my remembrance. I'm having to share these feelings of grief on this date. I feel bad for having my second loss take from Jerin what we had alone for 5 years. So odd, so strange, yet true.

Even still, as I cradle these bones this year an image of Jerin is very strong in my mind.  I remember holding his tiny body, not even the length of my forearm.  I remember he had all his fingers and toes. He had the most precious lips and eyelids. Even in his limp body I marveled at Gods miracle creation. So tiny yet already formed in so many ways.  He looked like a little man, peacefully sleeping.  I remember thinking how content he looked.  No distress or fear was in his face or body, he was free of all that.

I remember seeing Jerry hold him and talk to him.  Oh the fathers love for a son is a beautiful thing. We passed him back and forth until it was time to say goodbye.  I kissed him on the forehead and he was out of my arms but forever in my heart.

I didn't realize how important that precious moment of closure would be until now after experiencing empty arms in a different way. I treasure that moment with our Jerin.  I pray that the image of my boy will always be a strong memory no matter what comes my way.

Throughout this  year a phrase from a worship song has been floating through my head, bringing me such peace in times of turmoil of which I am so grateful.

All these pieces
Broken and scattered
In mercy gathered
Mended and whole
Empty handed but not forsaken
I've been set free
I've been set free

Yes I am broken and scattered in a million pieces. But God, the only one who can, has kept me together enough, blessed me with what I have, and opened my eyes to see; that although I am empty handed.....I am not forsaken.  If I tried to hold in my two arms all the things I am grateful for, they would be overflowing. It would be impossible to count, collect and hold all the mercies, blessings, and treasures I have in my life today.  I'm not forsaken....not forsaken.


So on this day Lord, I lift up to you these pieces, the pieces of my shattered heart, and the pieces of my fragmented mind.  Take them, mend them, and use them for your Glory.  Thank you for the memory of my son, I know I will recognize his amazing perfect features in heaven.  Thank you for my many blessings, too many to count and too many to hold. I lift up these empty hands to you, in suffering, grief, doubt, and despair, for I know you are here weeping with me in my times of sorrow.  Thank you for the comfort you bring in so many ways on days like today. I sing to you...

You take our failure
You take our weakness
You set your treasure
In jars of clay
So take this heart Lord
I'll be your vessel
The world to see
Your love in me

Dying Inside

Here I was again, crinkling the white paper that covered the examination table. It was an all familiar scene.....the doctors office.  I had been here more and more than I would like to be.  It started during the pregnancy, and continued after the loss...my thyroid levels were off.  And then a growth was discovered on my thyroid.  Today was D-day.  I squirmed and kept myself busy on my phone while waiting for her, my thyroid specialist, to walk in.  She finally came in after what seemed like an eternity.  I sat and watched her mouth move and it was like nothing was coming out.  Finally I heard her give her final assessment, "We will need to remove the growth."  No big deal I thought. "So you just take the growth off?" I asked.  "Your growth takes up the whole left side of your thyroid.  We would need to remove half of your thyroid."  My heart sank as she added, "It's most likely not cancerous but we won't know until we take it out and test it."

I felt like I was on a roller coaster.  I would go between deciding that it wasn't a "big deal" to plummeting into doubt and despair.

A week later I found myself sitting on a tiny black stool in a very different doctors office.  I struggled to get enough saliva into a tube to be tested. There was an apparatus that I didn't recognize that had tubes going into a computer. The doctor put my tube of saliva into to a glass sculpture of water.  This was a homeopathic doctor looking at my cellular levels using my saliva and urine.  After my results showed up, I watched his mouth move and it was like nothing was coming out.  I finally tuned into the important part, "We need to kill the growth.  You need natural chemo to stop it from growing and thriving. You need to have a smoothie diet of kale, spinach, berries, and coconut water for 2 weeks.  Then we will re-assess you."

I felt strangely hopeful yet terrified.  Christmas was around the corner, this regiment would mean I would miss out on all the dinners, desserts, and traditions. I started to wonder, how will I feel?  What if it doesn't work?

I anxiously awaited the supplements to arrive so I could start this anticipated journey.  When the box finally came, I diligently counted, bagged, and sorted my 72 a day regimen.  The smoothies started and I was eager and hopeful as I downed my first handful of supplements.

My eagerness soon faded as nausea, a headache, and body aches took over.  I had made it all the way to day 2, and wondered if this is how it was going to be.  I dragged myself into bed and thought that I may not wake up the next day.  I felt so horrible.  I felt like death.  Sleep was hard to come by as I writhed in pain.  I was surprised when my eyes opened the next morning.  I was talking to my mom about my "near death experience" the next day.  "I felt like I was dying," I told her.  After my endless complaining she said the most profound thing, "Don't forget, you do have something dying inside."

After I got off the phone with her, I realized how true that statement was. This physical decay of my growth started spreading through other areas of my life.  As my body weakened in its fight, my strength weakened too.  A grocery cart became my walker, nap time became a necessity, and mommy time-outs were often.

I was emotionally weak.  I cried, I screamed, I feared.  I felt sorry for myself, I whined, I wanted to give up.  I desired what I thought I needed to be happy.

I feared, disbelieved, questioned, and doubted God.  I realized I had unrealistic expectations of what He would do for me.  I begged, pleaded, and groaned out to Him.  I was spiritually broken.

Forty days, two trips back to the doctor, and three phases later I am still fighting and learning.  Truth be told, I want this growth gone now. But dying takes time.  It is a slow process.  Every turn, every corner reveals another aspect that needs decay.  Every selfish thought, every manipulation and new expectation that creeps up in raw reality reveals more and more the true nature of my heart.

Death and decay are continually taking over every aspect of my life.  Some days I die physically, others emotionally.  Yet lately, on most days, it is in this death that I am finding life. Dying to myself has been one of the most freeing feelings. The release of control, the giving up, and the complete incompetence I have has been a relief.

Because I can't. I can't fix this with a magic pill. I can't make it go faster.  I can't understand it, I can't rely on my own strength. I just can't.

I give up. I give it all up....up to my Savior, up to my Lord.  I lay down the spoiled brat that I am and weep in His arms.  I lift up my hands in surrender and let go.  I release my grip on this body that has seen better days. I give up.

More than that, I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ, and may be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own derived from the Law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteous which comes from God on the basis of faith.

Not that I have already obtained it or have already become perfect, but I press on so that I may lay hold of that for which also I was laid hold of by Jesus Christ.

Philippians 3:8-9 and 3:12

So die on growth.  Die on old self.  For it is in this death that I live.