March 10th, 2013 was my due date for the sweet little one I lost. In a perfect world, I would've met my David Zephaniah on *or around* March 10th...today. I plan to write him a letter in a separate post, and I have a whole post that's been sitting in my drafts for months about going through the experience of miscarrying and the dealings afterwards. It's raw but real, and I may share it at another time. For now, this is where my heart is. (I share because I like to write, and just maybe it will strike a chord with someone else.)
I sometimes experience waves of emotion that hit me at unexpected times. Like when I'm going through the baby section at the store to get the little boy underwear we need, and I see the pacifiers hanging in the next aisle. I choke up. I ache. Tears fill my eyes. I miss my baby I never knew. Sometimes it's just sadness, sometimes it's overwhelming ache and grief, and other times it's a simply a sweet memory that causes a smile to creep across my face because I *know* about his life. Because he was here, I can miss him. We still share that special bond even though I never held him. I'm thankful for the touch he's had on my life, and how that will continue until we meet in heaven.
Through the loss of David (or Zeph), I have had a new understanding of how precious life is and what a gift it is. God's a fan of life too. His very being is life giving and life breathing. It's true, He gives and takes away, but He is the Author and Creator of abundant life, and my little guy, whatever was wrong before is renewed now, and God is working it for our good. I know that He is because otherwise I wouldn't have the hope that I do.
Life is SO precious. Yet, we can take it for granted so easily. We can even think that we are the creators of life and in charge. For me, through losing our little one and not being entirely "Fertile Mertile" (though it may appear to some that we are, having 2 in 22 months and David would've been, crazily enough, 22 months after Lydia... and maybe because we're more open to children?), I am growing more keenly aware of the Giver of Life. I am learning to trust more and learning I don't have to be in control. (Yes, I'm still learning that.) What fits into our "schedules" and perfections of timing and stages of life minimizes the preciousness, the sacredness, and the wonderful gift that life is. A child does not "fit in on Monday." A child is a life, a blessing. He or she is uniquely crafted and created by our Heavenly Father with a purpose and with wonderful gifts and talents to encourage others and to bring glory to His name ....and all of these things, "for such a time as this." (Anybody else out there a big fan of Esther?) I have a purpose, my family members each have a purpose, and you have a purpose..."for such a time as this."
Our little one's pretty incredible. He wasn't left out. I don't know why I was not able to carry him to term, to be able to see, to touch, and to kiss his sweet face on this very day. But, I do know he has left a mark on my heart for which I am eternally grateful. Even his name reminds me to store up my treasures in heaven, for my treasures are a reflection of my heart and what I place the most value in. My child has brought me closer to my Savior, a Savior Who loves me enough to have given me His Son. He loves me that much.
Even though my little one was only weeks in my belly, he will forever be in my heart. He's my treasure. He reminds me to keep looking heavenward with whatever time I have been given. I know God has more plans for us and for our little family that include loving more treasures, more little lives. We're seeking Him as He unfolds more of the story, and I'll keep sharing when I can. For now, I'm remembering my sweet little one, cherishing his big brother and big sister, and walking hand in hand with their amazing Daddy while seeking to share with the world that life is precious. And if you haven't heard it in awhile, "You are dearly loved."
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Monday, March 4, 2013
I Was Not Blogging
...when this happened. If you want to know why I rarely blog, here is 1 reason.
(Picture quality, terrible I know. I had a little one following me. But, you get it right?)
Her name is spelled L.Y.D.I.A.
Do I mention this was the same day she had gotten into some cookies? (And the kicker is, we usually don't have so much "good" stuff in the house. We were potty training. Extra treats were needed all around.) And, Lydia knew. She knew. My kids love chocolate as much as their parents. How does she get into things? She epitomizes "Where there's a will, there's a way!" She tore the top right off! In case you're wondering, she "only" ate from the donuts that are pictured. The other row and a half missing was eaten by Matt and yours truly. Phew. Not all at once either. Phew.
A few days later she got her little hands into the vegetable shortening. "Where were you, Mom?" you ask? Oh, I was... 2 feet away from her in the kitchen doing dishes. My problem was...I was looking at the dishes. She was elbow deep in that gooey goodness, squishing it in her hands, saying, "Nice! Nice!" I don't even know how I responded to my happy girl, but it was urgent....skipping right over, "How did you get the lid off (and without me realizing 2 feet away)?" She can think of her ideas and act on them lightning fast. I'm taking notes but still not as efficient as she is. While I quickly tried to intervene...you know, with some urgent yelp, I envisioned smears of a creamy, slippery mess all over our house. (I'm not a neat freak Mom by any stretch, and I often let my kids play with some things that will get them messy. But, vegetable shortening? I don't even like to wash it off of spoons or out of measuring cups.) Well, she listened to her frazzled mother and pulled her Crisco clumped hands out of the container. Before I could get to the paper towels, she eyed the white blobs covering her hands. "Mommy would like me to leave that Crisco alone, and she probably wants me to clean up. I better smear what's left on my hands allll around my pink-shirted belly. That'll do the job. " And so she did.
"Give thanks in all circumstances:" At least I got to her before she could rub it in her hair!
And of course, as busy as she is, I love that smiley little girl, and I love the miracle that her Crisco-covered, happy self is.
Dear Lydia, I love your adventurous spirit, but please get into a few less things each day and take a moment to read a book or play with a toy...or sit on Mommy's lap, relaxed, and singing sweetly while I write, as we share one donut together...or please, just leave the vegetable shortening (and the plunger) alone.
Baby gate #2 for the kitchen has been installed.
(Picture quality, terrible I know. I had a little one following me. But, you get it right?)
Her name is spelled L.Y.D.I.A.
Do I mention this was the same day she had gotten into some cookies? (And the kicker is, we usually don't have so much "good" stuff in the house. We were potty training. Extra treats were needed all around.) And, Lydia knew. She knew. My kids love chocolate as much as their parents. How does she get into things? She epitomizes "Where there's a will, there's a way!" She tore the top right off! In case you're wondering, she "only" ate from the donuts that are pictured. The other row and a half missing was eaten by Matt and yours truly. Phew. Not all at once either. Phew.
A few days later she got her little hands into the vegetable shortening. "Where were you, Mom?" you ask? Oh, I was... 2 feet away from her in the kitchen doing dishes. My problem was...I was looking at the dishes. She was elbow deep in that gooey goodness, squishing it in her hands, saying, "Nice! Nice!" I don't even know how I responded to my happy girl, but it was urgent....skipping right over, "How did you get the lid off (and without me realizing 2 feet away)?" She can think of her ideas and act on them lightning fast. I'm taking notes but still not as efficient as she is. While I quickly tried to intervene...you know, with some urgent yelp, I envisioned smears of a creamy, slippery mess all over our house. (I'm not a neat freak Mom by any stretch, and I often let my kids play with some things that will get them messy. But, vegetable shortening? I don't even like to wash it off of spoons or out of measuring cups.) Well, she listened to her frazzled mother and pulled her Crisco clumped hands out of the container. Before I could get to the paper towels, she eyed the white blobs covering her hands. "Mommy would like me to leave that Crisco alone, and she probably wants me to clean up. I better smear what's left on my hands allll around my pink-shirted belly. That'll do the job. " And so she did.
"Give thanks in all circumstances:" At least I got to her before she could rub it in her hair!
And of course, as busy as she is, I love that smiley little girl, and I love the miracle that her Crisco-covered, happy self is.
Dear Lydia, I love your adventurous spirit, but please get into a few less things each day and take a moment to read a book or play with a toy...or sit on Mommy's lap, relaxed, and singing sweetly while I write, as we share one donut together...or please, just leave the vegetable shortening (and the plunger) alone.
Baby gate #2 for the kitchen has been installed.
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