"God Is Not Dead; Nor Doth He Sleep"

Last night my sister took me out for a date.  We went to listen to the Christmas concert for the East Valley Mormon Choral Organization. 

It was beautiful.  Music is truly the universal language.  I loved the whole thing. 

The program ended with the director challenging the audience to discover the heartaches that Henry Wadsworth Longfellow experienced as he penned the words to "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day."

I accept your challenge, sir.

According to Tom Stewart, Longfellow and his wife, Fanny, were married for nearly 20 years and had five children.  In 1861, the Civil War broke out.  That June, Fanny cut their seven-year-old daughter's hair and decided to save the cut hair in an envelope sealed with wax.  The wax from the candle dripped onto her dress.  Her dress caught fire.  Fanny tried to save the two little girls who were in the room with her.  She carefully ran with them to Henry's office and he tried to extinguish the flames with a rug.  When that didn't work he threw himself on her, burning himself in the process.  She died the next morning.  Between grief and his severe burns, he couldn't attend her funeral.

Two years later his son was shot while in battle.  The bullet entered under his shoulder blade and injured his spine, however, the wound did not kill him. 

Holidays were the hardest for Longfellow to endure.  Life was difficult to survive without his wife.  And the injury of his son seemed to haunt him as well. 

Yet, somehow, Longfellow found some hope:

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!"

This story touched my heart.  The choir's performance was beautiful.  I wish I had a recording of it. 

Longfellow must have been a strong man to have endured so much trial and pain and yet still write one of the greatest carols of hope for the Christmas season. 

I've been a little afraid of Christmas this year.  I had some weeks of envisioning the mini-stocking we'd use this year for our unborn baby, the one we used for the other kids when we were pregnant with them.  That stocking is back in the box with other unused decorations for the season. 

But this carol is a wonderful reminder.  God has not left us in our sorrows.  He loves us, despite the trials and heartaches we experience.

And That, My Friend, Is What They Call "Closure"

Ever heard of "closure"? 

And THAT, my friend, is what they call CLOSURE from Leo Carbonell on Vimeo.

Closure is a popular psychology term. It refers to a conclusion to a traumatic event or experience in a person's life.  --Wikipedia

Pardon my use of this century's pseudo-Britannica, but it works.

Yesterday was our opportunity to find closure with our miscarriage.  Maybe you're sick of me talking about it, but let me talk about it some more so you can see my point of view. 

A friend of mine told me over facebook: "I still get tears in my eyes when I remember my miscarriages. They hurt, and those who havent' had one can sometimes be insensitive, by wondering what the big deal is. But those of us who have been through it understand. We send our love and prayers. It is proper to morn, in fact it is probably very healthy to do so. I won't lie to you. You'll always remember, but with time, the pain of that remembrance will ease. God bless you."

I know it's true.  I'll always remember this.  It's with me forever. 

But it's also true that time is starting to help us heal.  I began my emotional healing just over a week ago when I crossed the finish line of the first 5k I did.  It triggered something in my mind that ultimately lead to a buffering in my heart.  It's hard to explain it, but it had nothing to do with crossing the finish line before that girl that kept trying to run way ahead of us, got tired and then fell behind then ran way ahead again and again.  She was just annoying.  No.  This was something bigger.  Something to remind me of my strength and ability to carry on.

The physical part was confirmed during our doctor's appointment yesterday.  The baby is for sure gone.  And so is nearly all of the physical preparation for him/her.  My doctor has been incredibly kind and helpful during this time.  She took the time to talk to us and let us know when we can try to have another baby.  (Btw, she said docs used to say three to six months, mostly so they'd have a previous period to use as a due date calculator, but there's no physical reason to wait.  She did suggest to wait until after my next period just so everything is cleared out and it's easier for a new egg to implant.) 

So I should have closure now.  And to an extent, I do.  I'm at the "conclusion" of a "traumatic event."  My emotions and body are able to move on.  However, my memory will always hold this "traumatic event" close.  It won't hold me back, but it will never be lost.

#8 I'm Thankful For.....

I've had ten days to prepare for this post.  I had hoped it would be: "I'm thankful for the new baby joining our family."  But that's not the case.

October 29 I had an ultrasound to check the baby and get a more accurate due date.  Evidently, I ovulated really, really late this cycle so I wasn't nearly as far along as I expected.  At our first ultrasound we couldn't get any dates because the baby was too small.  But we saw the wee heart beating.  The second ultrasound, the one ten days ago, started out bad.  The tech suddenly stopped talking to us.  You always know that's a bad sign. 

We had to wait for the doctor to tell us that it looked like we lost the baby.  She wasn't 100% sure, but she seemed fairly positive.  But we decided to schedule another ultrasound for this morning to confirm everything. 

Halfway through the week, I was sure everything was okay.  My pregnancy symptoms continued and I just felt that everything would be fine.

I began spotting Sunday morning (yesterday), right before I headed off to church to help wrangle a bunch of Nursery kids.  The cramps began that afternoon.

So, what am I thankful for?  I could say something like, "I'm thankful that I get to start losing weight again" or "I'm thankful that I can try to run that half-marathon in January" or "I'm thankful we don't have to worry about the cost of childbirth" or "I'm thankful I can stop being so tired and sick now."  And I'm sure I am thankful for those things.  But I don't want to be thankful for them.  Not right now.

What I'm really thankful for is the Love of God.  Josh came home from work yesterday morning right before I had to run off to church.  He used the power of the Priesthood and gave me a blessing, a direct message from my Heavenly Father.  Things didn't work out the way I wanted, but He helped me know that it's all going to be fine.  In the blessing I was told that if this isn't the time for our baby, that I need to know that I didn't do anything wrong.  I already knew that.  The Love of God had already testified that to me. 

I've had faith that we will find comfort through this experience.  And I think we have.  But I've decided something.  Just because I have faith in God's plan, does not mean that I cannot experience the human emotions of loss.  I've lost the opportunity to love and nurture a child at this time.  I'm sure I'll have another chance sometime, but for now I mourn my loss. 

I used to think that mourning indicated weakness or a shaken testimony.  It's neither.  It's a natural reaction in our mortal lives.  Even Jesus cried when Lazarus died.  And I'm sure He knew He was going to raise His friend from the dead just a few minutes afterward. 

Being sad doesn't negate my faith in God.  I know He loves me.  I know He has specific plans for our family.  I know it is in His hands.  And I'm thankful for my friends and family that personify God's love.  He may not hold me in His arms, but He will send others to do so for Him. 

I'm thankful for that.

No, I'm Not Complaining

I've had a request.

My husband would like me to write something on here.  He misses my writing.  I think it gives him a nice break to just sit and read some of the nonsense that goes through my head.  And since he hasn't mastered the art of reading my mind (imagine that), I'll oblige him.

I haven't written a new post for a while because the only thing truly on my mind is this:

Ah, crap, pregnancy is killing me!

And I have several more months to endure and complain.  If I start complaining too much now, will anyone (including Josh) even read anything I write anymore?

Well, I haven't done a Top Ten List for a while.  So here we go:

Top Ten Things I'm Trying to Avoid Complaining About:

10.  I've finished my Couch to 5k program but have no 5k to participate in.  What the heck, man?  I'm not allowed to do my half-marathon.  So now what?  Just run for my health???  Seriously???

9.  My house is so dirty.  I truly have to wonder: Am I experiencing Nesting or is my house really just trashed?  I'm so afraid to know the answer.

8.  I am tired.  All. The. Time. 

7.  If I thought I was weepy before, then I better buy stock in Kleenex now.  I was watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.  I know that show can pull at the heart strings, but I started crying when the team did a Flash Mob to notify the family they were chosen for the makeover.  What's a flash mob, you ask?  A sad and/or sentimental thing?  No.  It's when dancers are planted in a crowd and start dancing to amplified music.  That's not sad!  It was clever!  And I was crying!!  Give me a break.

6.  I got the worst advice ever from my doctor: Only eat what sounds good.  Great.  You know what sounds good?  Carmel rolls.  Ice cream.  Carmel popcorn.  Chocolate.  Chocolate covered peanuts.  Ice cream with chocolate, carmel, and peanuts.  Mmmmm......

5.  My boobs hurt.  Just putting that one out there.

4.  Millie is getting too smart.  She knows when she's made a bodily noise.  It's too hard to blame her for mine because she'll rat me out.  And we have no dog.  Life isn't fair.

3.  Did I mention I'm tired a lot?  I basically have one good effort of energy a day -- and usually that's used to roll out of bed.  Any activity requiring more energy than that doesn't stand much of a chance.  Oh, you're hungry?  There's the peanut butter and jelly.  Have fun.

2.  I told my friend Cindy that I feel like I have the flu.  Minus every single symptom but fatigue and nausea.  Although, I think I can add body aches back in there.  I'm pretty sure I could get a note from my doctor to excuse me from strenuous activity if need be.

And Number 1:

If you missed my post on Facebook, here it is again: "Pregnancy mood swings are like a pendulum. A pendulum that's just been round-house kicked by Chuck Norris after he was yelled at by his pregnant wife and he's still clueless as to what he did wrong. ~Shelly"  Oh my goodness, my mood swings are just beginning, but they keep popping up.  "Oh, I love my children.... HOLY HECK, WHO LEFT THEIR BOWL ON THE TABLE?..... I have the best life in the world..... EVERYBODY ZIP IT AND LEAVE ME ALONE!!  Yep, I'm a stereotype.

And those are the things I've been avoiding complaining about on my blog.

Baby News

Ten years ago, when I was pregnant with Emma, there's no way I'd be given an appointment to see an OB before I was at least 12 weeks along.  The idea was that if I lost the baby, there was nothing that could be done anyway, so it wasn't worth the doctor's time.  Okay, that's the tactless way to say it, but that's what the idea was.

Seven years ago, when I was pregnant with Matt, I was lucky to get more than one ultrasound of my baby boy.  In truth, we were all lucky that I got more than one ultrasound since that's what, in essence, saved him when he was born.  But that's a whole other story.

I noticed with Millie that things were different.  I got to see the doc almost immediately.  I got an ultrasound at that first visit, if for no other reason than to verify my due date.  All this early attention makes having a baby that much more fun.  And when you're preparing for your body to endure the most uncomfortable, painful, confusing, and sometimes grotesque nine months of your life, some positive attention is a very good thing.

Baby 5 is no different.  I called my new OB and got my first appointment within four days of calling.  That first appointment lasted a couple of hours as we detailed my OB and health history, drew my blood work, had the oh-so-wonderful physical exam, and yes, saw our baby for the first time.



It's hard to see, so let me explain a little about this picture.  According to the dates, my due date should be May 28.  But the ultrasound shows that our baby is much smaller than that.  The ultrasound equipment can't measure anyone who is less than 2 mm.  Our baby is 1 mm.  So little!! 

**In my head I call our baby a "she".  Is that bad?  I don't know who's coming into our family, but until we know, I'll just trust that the girls will continue to overrule.**

Anyway, the machine couldn't pick up her heartbeat because she's not 2 mm yet, but we could see it.  We could see the heart of our 1 mm baby beating.  Imagine, if she's 1 mm, how big must her heart be?  And we saw it beating.  Oh, the beautiful miracles of life. 

Anyway, in the photo above, our baby is the little tiny smudge in the upper corner of the central circle that the arrow is pointing to.  The words there say, "Baby 1 mm." 

As of right now, the ultrasound says our due date is June 10.  Due dates can fluctuate so much that I'll just plan on her being born sometime around the first of June since we have to plan another c-section. 

That's a rant for another day.