Out with the old...

Today I took the tree down...when Abigail realized what I was doing, she was very sad and asked why we had to take it down. I responded that we had to take it down so that when Christmas came again, we would be able to put up a new one. After a minute of pondering, she decided that was acceptable (phew). I can understand her sentiment, though -- every year I'm always a little sad when the tree comes down. But today, as with every year (and buoyed primarily by the thought of clutter removal in my house), I forged ahead, all the while blending the sweet and bittersweet reminiscences of this year with those of years past and being grateful for the blessings I have been given. I reflected on my saddest Christmas season ever -- in 2006 -- when I was pregnant but having difficulties, and we lost the baby a few days after Christmas. That was a brutal holiday season. I never would have guessed that two Christmases later, we still would not have another little one added to our family. In one sense the sadness of it takes my breath away. In another sense, it makes me treasure my two beloved children even more, and hug them a little tighter, because I realize more fully what an incredible miracle every baby truly is. I reflected on fun traditions we continued this year -- getting our tree and then going to Starbucks together, frosting Christmas cookies with my kids, gradually filling my house with extended family as Christmas Day approached, roasting marshmallows in the fireplace on Christmas Eve, singing Happy Birthday to Jesus on Christmas morning. I reflected on the new traditions started this year -- making a gingerbread house with the kids, making krusciki with my mom, binding a quilt together (Mom, did you know that's a tradition now?!). And then (amidst contorting to look under and between branches to make sure I didn't miss any ornaments, and trying to remember how I wrapped the lights so that I could unwrap them without tangles, and covering the front of my sweater with needles, and dropping a multitude of glass balls and cringing while I waited to see if they'd break on impact), I reflected on the sweet memory of Christmas Eve eleven years ago when Bruce asked me to marry him...wow. And then I paused in the midst of ornament packing and garland removal to admire my sparkling diamond ring in the colorful glow of the tree lights. Not a year goes by that I don't do that very same thing, and somehow I expect to continue that tradition for the rest of my Christmases. The novelty of wearing that diamond solitaire has worn off, I suppose, but I still get a thrill every single day when I look at it on my hand and see it sparkle; and this year has added an anniversary band to commemorate the ten wonderful years we have spent together as husband and wife. With much joy, I reflected on the truth that the preciousness of the man who gave that lovely ring to me deepens with each passing year. My very best Christmas present ever? No question -- the gift of my Savior sent to earth. An eternal gift. My very best here-on-earth Christmas present ever? That one's easy, too -- the gift of my husband...and the beautiful diamond ring he gave me, too. :)

Two years...another lifetime ago

I couldn't help but remember that it was two years ago today that we lost a little one in our first miscarriage...it seems so long ago. I never would have guessed then that two years out, we would have three losses total and no new little one in our arms. I am so thankful that "O Lord, You have searched me and known me...You have enclosed me behind and before, and laid Your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me..." (Psalm 139) Our heavenly Father has enfolded us in His grace and comfort and peace in these often-difficult two years...

Series on grief

I would recommend that, when you have a quiet few minutes, you click here to read a series on grief (scroll down and start at part 1). It is a series that gives a little insight on what's likely going on 'behind the scenes' for someone who is grieving. Most of us are very uncomfortable around someone who is grieving, in part because we don't know what to expect, to say, or to do. Over the last couple of years, Bruce and I have often discussed that every one of us needs to be taught how to interact with people who are grieving, because it does not come naturally. (Admittedly, even after experiencing some deep grief of my own, I still don't find it an easy thing to reach out to others who are grieving.) A little bit of background: The blog I am linking you to is Molly Piper's (and yes, for those of you familiar with John Piper of Desiring God, this is his daughter-in-law). Molly and her husband lost their little girl last year just before her full-term delivery; baby Felicity was stillborn. At the time of their loss, I was still reeling after our third miscarriage, and from the time we heard their news, I have followed Molly's blog and prayed for them often. I can't imagine the depth of their grief, and Molly has been a real blessing to me in that, although they recognize and acknowledge God's perfect plan for their lives, and glorify Him even through their pain, at the same time she has been very open about the grief that occurs and that is very real and very painful. I hope that this series will be a blessing to you, too -- and to those around you who are grieving and need your love and encouragement.

Remembering loss...again

I usually don't post deep thoughts on the blog, since its main purpose is to keep all of you updated on the kids etc...but every once in a while I get a little deeper, and this is one of those days. The hard things in life and the resulting emotions and reflections are all part of our lives, too...it's just not "warm and fuzzy" stuff. It is rather heavy on my heart that the little one we lost in our third miscarriage would have been born around this time. It's times like these that make my arms ache for another little one, but the Lord has not yet seen fit to allow that. We choose to cling to the knowledge that His plan is always good -- is always best -- for me, for us, for our family, for our children...both the two precious ones that are with us and the three that we won't hold this side of eternity. I am so thankful for David and Abigail. I am so thankful for a husband who loves me and is such a comfort and support through these tough times. I am thankful for an extended family, both our blood family and church family, and friends, who love me and are there for support, too. I am thankful for a heavenly Father Who is all-wise and all-good and Who loves me even though I am undeserving. At times like this I am careful to remind myself of these things constantly...because it is a struggle sometimes not to be bitter, or to be resentful of others' joys, but rather to rejoice with those who rejoice, and to give thanks always. Praise God for His love for us, for His perfect plan, and for the strength He gives to be thankful and joyful, because I could not do it in my own strength. Our prayer is that every part of our lives will be a testimony of His love and grace, and that it all will bring glory to Him. Thanks for your continued prayer for us. And thanks for letting me share what's going on in my heart of hearts today.

A goodbye to "Grandma" H.

A dear lady from our NY church family went home to be with the Lord last night...it is so sad to know that she is no longer here on earth with us, although there is sweetness in knowing that she is with her Saviour, reunited with her mom, and is no longer in pain... Our love goes out to her family during this time of grief.

...another little one lost

"But as for me, I will hope continually,

and will praise You yet more and more.

"My mouth shall tell of Your righteousness

and of Your salvation all day long;

For I do not know the sum of them."

~Psalm 71:14, 15

~

We found out this past week that we were expecting another baby -- and yesterday we experienced another miscarriage. Last night Bruce and I were reflecting that we have now lost more little ones than we have "kept". How very grateful we are for the two that fill our hearts and arms -- and yet we ache for the others that we will not know in this lifetime. Still we choose to look to the Lord and know that He loves us perfectly and will carry us through...the verses above say it all.

Remembering

Today was the due date of the little one we lost in our first miscarriage...although, considering my history, we likely would have had the baby around Thanksgiving (!), for us this is still a day to remember. For some reason, in our society, there is a reluctance to publicly acknowledge a miscarriage, but I have never, even prior to our own experiences, understood that reluctance. This is a loss like any other loss, and results in a grief like any other grief, and it is a heavy burden to try to carry in secret. It is -- and always will be -- a part of who I am and who we are. So anyway, I've marked the day...and now on to all of the busyness a normal day holds. I will try to do a quick post later, after the kids' audio. appointments, to let you all know results.

Ringing out the old year...

Well, the holidays didn't go according to my plans, but isn't that life?! Three weeks ago we found out we we were pregnant, and everything looked good. We were planning to make the news public after we told the kids (ultrasound was scheduled for the end of this week). But I started some spotting that put me off my feet over Christmas, and we miscarried this past Friday. I don't know what else to say, really -- we are still grieving the loss of this little one and it will just take time for the pain to lessen. This past year was a rough one for our family -- two little ones lost through miscarriage, the kids' LVAS diagnoses, etc etc -- yet at the same time full of the grace of God and an extra measure of His peace, comfort, and joy. As Old Testament Job said, although right now we are in "sackcloth and ashes" (i.e. mourning), still we say "...yet will I trust Him." Trusting the Lord does not mean an absence of grief, but rather a purpose and strength (HIS purpose and strength) in spite of the pain. We are clinging to Him during these hard days...