What do you store?

Finally.

I accomplished something today that I’ve ignored for years. I knew it was there, just waiting to be gone through- used, packed away for good, or thrown away. The thing was, I couldn’t completely remember what was in there, and it scared the crap out of me to go down that road.

We’ve called it the baby closet. I’m sorry if that sounds creepy, weird, or otherwise, but that’s what it’s been. Over the years through our fertility journey – the highest of highs and lowest of lows – I’d created this cave where sweet little baby nothings go to rest. Things that once held joy but later caused intense pain to see. Well-wishes from loved ones in the form of greeting cards, hand-stitched gifts, hand-me-down gear, teddy bears, & onesies. Half-used pregnancy journals. These things all went to rest in totes & boxes behind a door that could be shut & forgotten. The space disabled me.

Today, I’m 35 weeks & 1 day. That closet just happens to be in the room we’re using as a nursery, and I couldn’t ignore it anymore. So I did it today… I pulled out each box, each item, & sat down in the living room alone to sort through it all. You can guess the mixture of emotions that flowed through my spirit, but I did it.

Last week, I got pretty frustrated with my doctor’s office & the hospital pre-admissions crew. Little things their staff members handle daily are new steps to me, & I’m often feeling left in the dark with insufficient explanation. While I work on finding my voice to ask the right questions, I’m really just trying to keep from crying at every unexpected turn.

When a friend reminded me this week that I have much for which to give thanks, I was a bit taken aback. Of course I’m thankful. Didn’t she remember where I’ve been?
My baby is healthy. Even considering my heart condition, I am healthy. In no way are these beautiful feats lost on me. I surrendered years to the seeming reality that giving birth would not be in my path.
But maybe, in my moments of frustration, fear, & anxiety, I had lost perspective. I know my heart, & my Savior knows my heart, but sometimes the human element takes over & I forget to praise instead of whine.

Thank you, Lord, for not giving up on me. Thank you for covering me in grace while I sort my way through & find your forgiveness & peace. Thank you for lending me your strength to face my demons in the closet.

It’s just a closet now; it holds no power over me.

Finally.

Where can I go from your spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.
-Psalm 139:7-10

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My Angels

Five years ago today was one of the worst days of my life.
Miscarriage #1.

I thought I would die of heartache, and part of me wanted to. I wanted nothing to do with the world, for mine had been crushed – the wind was knocked out of me by a huge crashing wave, and I was drowning, suffocating.

I remember the doctor’s words, the image on the screen, the look on my husband’s face. Suddenly all I could hear was the loud thudding of my heartbeat and a woman wailing in the next room ..but that woman was me. Although they tried not to be seen, I remember the pitiful expressions on the nurses’ faces as my husband guided me out to the car. I do not remember the ride home.

Why should I feel discouraged?
Why should the shadows come?
Why should my heart feel lonely and long for heaven and home?

Two days later was my surgery. “Conflicted” doesn’t really cover it. I never wanted this surgery, yet it couldn’t happen soon enough. The most unimaginable heartache I’ve ever experienced was knowing I was carrying my child that I would never hold.

When Jesus is my fortress, a constant friend is He.
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me

It’s been an emotional zip line ever since, and I’d basically given up hope of carrying a child, feeling it move and stretch inside of me. Everything we’ve been through has impressed upon me how much if a miracle life truly is. I am grateful beyond words to be the mother of the child I’m carrying today. I am also acutely aware of how painful it feels to even see a baby bump or pacifier when your heart is broken.

Our marriage was strengthened, weakened, strengthened.. and so on for 2-3 years. He took great care of me after the surgery, and we moved forward as soon as possible. Intently trying to conceive, failing, testing and trying medicines wear on a marriage in a way for which you cannot prepare. The last few years we have just been ‘us’. Not trying on a schedule, no more medicine, just living our lives. We also began researching adoption options. Even though this time period included more heartache, we were better to each other- kinder, more patient people.

I sing because I’m happy!
I sing because I’m free!
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me

Thank you, Jesus, for carrying me when I couldn’t walk, for keeping our marriage intact through hell and back only to somehow come out stronger together on this side. In six short weeks, we will meet our miracle, our child of God. I pray we are better parents and spouses because of our journey. Thank you, Jesus!

For His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me