Waiting in the Silence

Lately, as I do only those things that are within my power to do for my child, within, I still feel so incredible helpless.  I have to leave the rest up to God - as it is all in His hands anyway.  It is just really hard - to continue to pray every day for a miracle and dare to hope for one, but to be met with silence.  I know that God works and is at work even when we can't see it, but oh I really need to see it!  As I have witnessed more fellow NH moms give birth over the past two months and have seen more negative outcomes then positive ones, my heart falls within in me and I scream out, "Please God not us too!!!", and I am met with silence.  I beg for reassurance, and even as I went to another ultrasound this week and everything looks great at this point that isn't reassuring, because at this point with Ethan everything looked fine too.  And in reality we won't know anything about the health of this child until the moment he/she is born, and the tests come back.  We have gotten to the point now where we are looking forward in hope to the birth of this child, but it is tinged by its fair share of fear.  Just last night my husband and I were talking on the way home from running errands and marveling at how quickly the weeks have flown by, and how soon we will be at our target week date; then we both just fell into the deep silence of our own thoughts, trying in vain to smile at each other in hope but both still so acutely remembering Ethan's birth and the horror that followed.  And so we pray that there will be joy in this birth, and that we will continue to walk through the silence in faith - believing that God is performing a miracle within me.  My greatest hope is for a healthy child - but beyond that I yearn to breastfeed this baby like I have my others.  It is what I longed to do for Ethan and never could and to this day that remains my deepest hurt of the time I stood helplessly by his side.  But, this baby has to be born with no signs of NH for me to do that, and I want so desperately to do so - I long for the bond that is just mine with my baby - but I am afraid to ask God for it.  It is ridiculous really - I should be totally focused on a healthy baby no matter what the implications might be following testing and yet a huge part of me is hung up on what comes after.  But that is the reality in which I find myself - in a place of hope and fear constantly swirled together - surrounded by silence.  Even thought my husband and I have each other through this process and I have the amazing support of the other moms whom have also traveled this road - each case is unique though no one knows why and again we have no answers and again we wait in silence - praying and hoping that all will be well but not knowing that it will be.  So in that difficult waiting place - we strive to love this little one and pray so desperately that God wills a miracle for us.

Praying For A Miracle

As I write this a fellow NH mom waits in a NICU beside her child, hoping and praying for life.  It has been such a blessing to be connected to fellow NH mom's who know the bitterness of the sudden death of their little ones, and witness their journeys toward healing through the treatment of a subsequent pregnancy as we are now attempting.  And yet, as the past two to deliver have been compromised by NH, my heart cries out selfishly - please God not us!  The last place that I ever wanted to be again was the NICU - the very smell of the floor as the elevator opens turns my stomach.  It is inevitable that we will be there, but I pray that it is only for the 24 hours for tests to come back perfect!  I hope and I pray for a miracle - I long to spend the next 16 weeks down on my knees never moving from the feet of my Savior begging for a miracle, weeping for one.  Not only for the healthy birth of our child, but that tests come back perfectly normal - no sign of involvement with NH - so that not only can we bring a healthy child into our home but that I can nourish that child myself.  Sometimes I fear that I should not ask - I should just go with the flow and live with the fact that God is the only one in charge of what will or will not happen and not insert myself into it.  But, I am a mother and I am already desperately in love with my child and I want the best, hope for the best, and want to believe.  There isn't a moment that goes by that my heart isn't issuing silent prayers for a miracle - a true - Soli Deo Gloria miracle!  I know that I will love, live, and believe no matter what happens, but yet I pray my selfish mother's heart prayer for a completely healthy miracle by none other then our God.  "My God...My God...deliver us safely through!"

Strength

I have found myself many times over the past year and a half grasping for strength.  It feels like that horrible nightmare where you find yourself suddenly falling and there right above you is a bar only to find that you either a) can't reach it or b) you grasp it only to find that it isn't attached to anything solid either.  Many have told me, "You are so strong.", or "I see the strength in you.".  But is pretending to be strong for the sake of self preservation and for the greater good of those around you really strength....I ponder this...  There are many times that I have to, as I say it, "Put on my big girl pants" and just do it, just get through another tough day, agonizing conversation, whispered prayer, when all I want to do is yell, scream why until I am hoarse, and run away from it all.  I feel like I am strong on the outside - I have to be, it isn't helpful to my children or my husband if I am not.  I have to be, because it makes others uncomfortable if I am not.  But it also makes me uncomfortable - I would rather not be brittle and show my millions of tiny fractures waiting just waiting to break all the way.  I try desperately hard to daily wrap myself with faith, thankfulness for the little things, and grace towards others, but that doesn't stop the depth of the hole in my heart.  Even as I am incredibly aware of the blessing we have at being able to conceive and carry this child within me, I can not help but quake with trembling fear every moment of every day.  You might not see it looking at me, but I am - desperately afraid.  I want this child to be healthy and in our arms and in our home and to be able to learn this amazing child and his or her personality - I want it so desperately that I can feel it - my arms literally ache.  But, I stop myself from begging for it or hoping on it, because it might not be.  My arms and our nursery may remain empty of a new warm being in our lives.  And so I desperately reach for strength, faked or otherwise as I dance daily with hope and fear.  I love Ethan with all of me and I will until the end of time, and to never be able to cuddle him, kiss him, or watch him simply be is a hole that will never heal in this mother's heart.  I have had to surrender one to the earth and leave our knowing until later, and I don't want to have to do it again.  This brittle vessel is not that strong.

Just Have Faith

It is amazing how I can work myself up into a panic over a doctor's appointment.  Even though I know it is coming, and I know that it makes me slightly anxious and I try to prepare myself mentally and emotionally I just can't prepare enough it seems.  Yesterday was no exception.  We had our second trimester ultrasound, and Felix and the boys came along.  The boys were excited to see the baby for the first time, Felix who worries probably more then I do (which is hard to believe, but true) wasn't so excited and yet went along.  I was terrified.  What if this... and what if that.... went through my brain.  Secretly I have been very very worried because with Ethan I didn't feel good or even slight movement from him until I was well into the 20 weeks.  This precious one has been keeping me on pins and needles as well.  I felt the first butterfly movement at almost sixteen weeks and weak ones every now and then ever sense, but I was growing anxious because why weren't they getting stronger and therefore I worried.  Then in the ultrasound yesterday we found out that the placenta is on the front (which I have never had before) and therefore the baby has to kick really hard at this point for me to feel it - because it has a cushion to go through.  As I laid there absorbing this information, the doctor ticking off each organ and body part (though not the boy or girl ones :))  that we are concerned about, I dwelt on the amazing hand of God and the wonder of faith.  I have been anxiously waiting for the movements and kicks and stressing over it and all the while there is a perfectly fine reason why I haven't been feeling them stronger.  I heard the phrase, "Just have faith"  ringing over and over in my head and had to smile and shake my head at my God who never ceases to bring wonder into my life.  There is so much that is unseen in our lives, things that we may never even know God put into work and yet we feel and experience the after shocks not understanding the fullness of it all.  Only God knows.  There is so much that has come into our lives as a result of Ethan's brief life with us - things that we see occasionally and I am sure many things that we will never know - there has been a lot of difficulty, hurt, and pain, but there has also been in equal measure and sometimes more so, grace, mercy, love, and growing in wonder....faith.

Cautiously Optimistic

When we were pregnant with Ethan I had a feeling, but didn't know that something was horribly wrong. This time I know that something is more than likely not okay, and yet I have to trust that the outcome will be much different. For three weeks now I have been spending 6 hours on Fridays in Sanford with an IV in my arm receiving IVIG, and I have 17 more to go. Each time the treatment starts flowing into my vein I breath a heart prayer hoping it reaches God's ear, a prayer that this will do what it is supposed to and keep this little one safe from my antibodies. I find myself begging God for this little one's health, and then I stop myself and think maybe I shouldn't beg. I have begged for the health of my children before and that hasn't turned out very well. So instead I try to find peace, and trust in the faith that I cling to. I wish that God would lean down and tell me that all will be well, but I haven't heard that audible voice and don't anticipate that I will. I don't know where we will be come February, will we be at home cuddling our little one and breathing in that new baby smell - sending peace to my soul, or will we be standing beside another open cold grave? These thoughts swirl through my mind daily, and I struggle to remain calm in this storm. Not only do I feel my own fears, but I have to also daily address the fears of my sons as they are cautiously optimistic about what is going on and what can be a very real outcome. We don't spend a lot of time planning for the coming of this precious child within, we spend more time planning how to breath through each day, and silently praying that there will be good days to come.

Breath Held

I have not written a lot lately because I have been at a loss.  My heart has cried out so many words, but I could not find a way to make them translate through my fingers onto the screen.  I looked back on my past few blogs remembering how they were so close to the one year anniversary of Ethan's entrance into and exit from our arms and all the raw pain that raised again, and how in that moment I felt without but desperately clung to hope.  I remember that next weekend sitting out on the back porch with my husband reminiscing on a beautiful summer night and raising those questions, fears, and dreams that we seem to be only able to say to each other anymore.  All those crazy things that we quietly fear would make others eyebrows raise...  I asked my wonderful husband "What if God doesn't want us to have more children, what if this is our family story?"  He looked at me in his quiet confidence and said, "I have no fears about that, we are going to have more."  I felt hope and disbelief run through my soul at the same time and do a crazy dance there.  I thought on what my husband had said for several days; asking myself if I had that kind of quiet insistent faith.  I felt ashamed to say that I didn't - I still had doubts as to what God could and would do in our lives.  And that plagued me...I desperately wanted to lean into my Savior and believe but I was struggling.  Little did I know then, as I struggled with my faith, my God was doing what I had come to believe was impossible for us and had lost real hope of.  It is now a fact that on the day of that conversation, God had already begun the work of a possibility of a miracle in our lives.  As I write this I am 18 weeks pregnant, and holding my breath.  Believing that God is doing a miracle in our lives, and I am blessed to be a part of it.  Even as I endure the stress, the sleepless nights, the tears, fear, and hours of infusions I have to trust in my Savior because even as I hold my breath, He has breathed new life in me.

Roller Coasters

The mere thought of getting on a roller coaster sets my heart racing.  The last time I was actually physically on one was almost 8 years ago on our honeymoon.  My new husband wanted me to come with him and I, the much in love new wife, agreed - what he did not tell me until we were strapped into our seats with our feet dangling below us was that this was the highest and fastest in the park - gulp....great!  My palms were sweating, my heart threatening to pound out my of chest, my breath was coming in short fast puffs, and my eyes were tightly squeezed shut from that moment until the ride came to a complete stop.  My legs did not quit shaking until we had gotten off, walked a short ways to collect our valuables and I collapsed on a bench.  I will never voluntarily get on another man made roller coaster in my life.  It just is not my idea of fun, never has been and never will be.  What is it about roller coasters that get me - it might be the height, but I enjoy expansive breath taking views in nature...maybe the speed - no really I like the rush....the tummy flopping twists and turns - that probably has a lot to do with it, but what really sets my body into the fight or flight mode is the fear of the unknown.  I have no idea what is going to happen once that seat starts to move and all I can do is pray that it will end, and thankfully it eventually does - probably over much faster then the amount of time I spent in anxiety over the pending ride.  Translate that into my real life roller coaster - up and down, twists and turns, the unexpected, the fear of the unknown, and the speed.  The only difference is that this extreme roller coaster that we find ourselves on right now doesn't seem to want to slow down or stop to allow me some time to recover.  There are definitely days when one thing rushes in after another and the space in time from point A to point B in a day has taken so many twists of emotion and fact that I am dizzy from it all and all I want to do is get off.  A lot of people find roller coasters fun, I don't...I find them exhausting.  But if I am real about it - they are exhausting and this roller coaster of extremes that my life, family and marriage is on right now is exhausting because I do not have control.  I have to rely on the roller coaster operator to get me safely to the end of the ride.  Once I was strapped into the seat on the roller coaster beside my new husband I had no choice but to trust the one in charge - I was in for the ride and went where they took us.  But answering the question of do I truly trust the One who is in charge of this roller coaster of life if much harder.  I feel that I have to be prepared every day for fight or flight and that is exhausting.  I want to desperately believe that the One I believe in is in control and He is guiding us and has for us a hope and a future.  But, really I am desperate for this life passage to quit twisting and turning, for my God to lean down, let me off, and lead me to a resting place.