on getting stronger.

in retrospect...going straight from the couch to the soccer field may not have been the best strategy.  but i can't pretend that i've ever been something other than impulsive.

i told my team mates to put me down as a sub.  i wasn't sure when i would be able to play again and i wasn't sure what my body would even allow me to do.  i have been out of the sport for a good 3 months...and on the couch for the last 25 days.  but my body was begging me to do something.  anything.  just get up.  move.

my mind and heart, however were not quite there.

they lagged behind...

they were all,

"but we have been through a thing.  and we need the break.  we deserve a break."

our team captain (and my sweet friend) shot me a text saturday morning.

"game tomorrow at 6.  want to sub in?"

i thought for a second...

my head and heart having a substantial inner argument with my body...

and replied,

"i can try."

she said, "yay!!!  we will make sure you take it easy."

i made sure to be honest.  heaven forbid these people...these team mates...these friends actually rely on me.

"i have no idea what i'll be able to do, to be honest.  but i have to start somewhere."

yesterday...(the day of the game)...i went to church (against my will); took the kids to ihop while chad made announcements at the next service (that new french toast commercial had been calling out to me); and then declared that i was going to lay down for just a minute to rest and read my book.  3 hours later...i woke up.  i looked at the clock, like it was a ticking time bomb.  4:00.  good lord.  i only have 2 hours till the start of the game and i have yet to even see if i can run without doubling over.

i lay there until 4:30...my mind and heart doing their absolute best at trying to talk me out of showing up for the game.  i had my text all planned out.

"i'm really sorry.  i thought i'd be ready...but i'm just not.  i need more time."

and i knew...without a shadow of a doubt that my text would be received well.  after all...i have been through a thing.

but my body just wouldn't let me do it.  i knew the truth.  it's not gonna get any easier.  even though i am still bleeding...my doctor had cleared me to play.  i was cleared to "resume" all normal activity.  like...ok...this whole thing is done with and you can just pop on back to your normal life.  only...as i discovered on the soccer field last night...it just doesn't work that way.

i went into my room...dug to the bottom of my dresser drawer and located my uniform.

clarkson.  number 8.

that seemed like a lifetime ago.

it was a short lifetime.  but it was a lifetime.  my baby's lifetime.

i put it on without thinking.  if i thought about it...i would fold it right back up and reach for the sweat pants.  and that wasn't gonna help anybody.

i went through the motions.  fastening my shin guards and ankle brace.  slipping my feet into the sambas that i once loved to lace.  packing my bag with extra pads in case all the running caused me to bleed heavily.  filling the water bottle with cold water.

the hardest part was walking into the room were the kids were... and watching their eyes adjust to that version of my "old" self and saying, "MOM!!!  ARE YOU GONNA PLAY SOCCER????"  i could only imagine what they were thinking.  "no way.  you've been sleeping for a month.  this is gonna be a disaster."  but then i realized...those were just my thoughts.  ok...and maybe chase's.  he did sit down next to me and say..."i'll pray for you."  followed by something like, "don't break anything."

****

i walked into the building and luckily avoided the staff asking me where i'd been?  my entire team trickled in and no one even said anything stupid.  i say this...because i am notorious for saying stupid things in these sorts of situations.  no one ignored the situation.  but they didn't get all weird and uncomfortable...making me feel equally weird and uncomfortable either.  they were perfect.

they told me that i was only allowed to play 2 minute bursts...to get my feet wet again.  and it wasn't in a "you're so out of shape that you are going to humiliate us" way...it was in a "we know what you've been through and whatever you can do is ok and we are here to support you and take care of you" way.  and that was a relief.  no one was expecting anything.  they were just glad i was there.

soccer was something that brought me such satisfaction and joy before.  and i hoped it would do so again.  however...when i took my place on the field...i realized,

"my heart is not here."

i was up against a girl that was so fast and quick that i probably wouldn't have beaten her when i was at my best this time last year...scoring hat tricks and connecting assists and never tiring.  although i was never some soccer superstar...i at least made a difference in the game. but last night...when i was running to try to win a pass down the line...being chased (and caught) by this girl who had absolutely no idea who i was...all i could think was...

"who even cares!  why am i here???  beat me to the ball!!  i don't care!  i'll lay a red carpet out for you to score a goal.  this means nothing.  my baby just died."

used to...i would have to be called off the field.  used to...nothing mattered to me more than bringing it out there.  nothing mattered to me more than scoring and making great passes and performing to the best of my ability.  it made me happy.  it made me satisfied.

i felt like a porcelain doll last night.  i felt like i was two seconds from shattering all over the field.

and nothing about that made me happy.  nothing about that made me satisfied.

 i was just...

sad.

BUT...

when i got home...and chad asked,

"how do you feel?"

i had to reply,

"supported."

because...as hard as that game was for me...there was joy to be found there.  every member of my team had my back.  they didn't care how i performed.  my worth was not in what i could or couldn't do.  my worth was in "who" i was.  they would not let me go against the "linebacker" on the other team.  they wouldn't let me get too tired.  they wouldn't let me stay out there too long.  they were watching me closely.  not because they cared what i contributed to the game...but because they cared about how i was.  they cared about my heart and my body.  they knew me...and they knew where i was.  and if my heart wasn't in it...that was ok.  and they would be patient with me.  and they would teach me to be patient with myself.

****

i now view myself like a muscle in the body.

you tear it down...in order for it to come back stronger.

last night...i was emotionally and physically torn down.  and i let it happen.  i came home...took a shower...and went to bed.  i went to bed sad...dissatisfied...frustrated...hopeless that i would ever feel "good" again.

but when i woke up this morning...

i felt a little bit stronger.

i made myself get up.  and it was different this time.  because my heart wanted to get up.  i went to the y.  i tried a new body pump class.  sure.  i used the lightest weights.  i did a fraction of what i would have done 3 months ago.  but i felt strong.  and i didn't let myself quit when it got hard.  and when i walked out of the front doors into the sun...

i knew that i had come back a little stronger.

and with a little more hope.

and something about that made me smile.

on recovery

i've decided that one does and thinks strange things while recovering.  it's been 12 days since i officially miscarried our baby, and 24 days since i found out that something might be wrong.  in that time...i've done a lot of "feeling."  and it's really amazing how quickly emotions can change.

i spent a good 4 days in bed.  not because i wanted to.  i didn't have a choice.  people don't know how hard a miscarriage can be on a mother's body.  not to mention her heart.  and the two pains together??  well...they are nearly unbearable. for 2 of those days...annslee wouldn't leave my side.  she would saddle up next to me in bed and watch sprout or play my phone as i fitfully slept.  one of the games she would play on my phone had a child's voice calling for it's mama.  i would hear it in my sleep and dream it was my baby calling for me to come.  i would try to find the voice...but i never could.  and sometimes i would cry with the voice.  i would call back.  i would cry out that i was sorry i couldn't find it...i was trying...i wanted to reach it and hold it and rock it...but i couldn't.  when i would finally wake...i would ask annslee to play a different game.  and she would.  but she never knew why.

so...last friday morning...(which was 5 days post miscarriage)...i tried to stand up after chad got the kids off to school.  i had tried the morning before and realized that i couldn't stand up straight without it hurting pretty badly...so i collapsed right back in bed.  and on that friday morning...i could stand up.  i walked into the kitchen and made a cup of coffee.  this was a huge success for me.  it's weird how the simplest task feels like a monumental occasion after going through something like this.  and i didn't even cry at the realization that i could now drink caffeinated coffee because i was no longer pregnant.  it's also weird how quickly you get used to protecting that baby.  no coffee.  no alcohol.  no hot, hot baths.  no emptying the kitty litter.  no eating weird, soft cheeses.  and all of a sudden...i didn't have to worry about that stuff anymore.  however...i still caught myself questioning it.  wait...is the water too hot????  oh yeah.  it doesn't matter anymore.

on that friday morning, while my coffee was slowly dripping into my mug, i looked around the kitchen.  it seemed like a foreign place to me.  i had been in bed for 4 days.  i only saw my bedroom and my bathroom.  my mother and chad had taken charge of the kitchen.  and it wasn't used to me being in it. i stood there a while...sort of introducing myself again.  and that room sensed that i was somehow different.  i would never be the same.  but it welcomed me anyway.  and it said that who i was now was ok.

the first thing i did was rip the "may" page of the calendar off and throw it away...revealing the blank month of june.  i was done with may.  i needed may to be over.  i needed to look ahead.  i didn't need to look back at may anymore...or see where i had excitedly written that first appointment down...expecting to see my baby's heartbeat.  i didn't need to look back at those days when i was still pregnant and happy.  i needed to see the future.  i needed to see june.

and then i just started rearranging the entire kitchen.  the coffee pot was all wrong where it was and needed a new home on the opposite counter.  i worked for 2 hours.  i cleaned every service of that kitchen.  and when i was done...it looked like a new room.  it was ready for summer.  and so was i.

after that...i decided that i needed a new purse.  like...right then.  so...obviously i decided to go shopping.  i went by myself.  colton watched annslee for me...and i looked at every purse in the bay area like my life depended on it.  i bought 2.  plus a wallet.

i've read my bible more.  because that's what i do when i'm struggling.  i try to find answers.

i haven't found any answers.  but i have been comforted.

last saturday morning, i woke up around 9:30.  that's been another thing.  people tend to just let me sleep.  and i've slept a lot.  i didn't hear anybody...so i wandered into the front room where i could see the driveway from the front window.  that's when i noticed that chad and the kids had decided to tack on to another garage sale on our street and had trudged a bunch of stuff out of our house and garage to the end of the driveway with a "for sale" sign in the yard.  i stood there for a minute and then saw some random lady holding up a piece of my old lingerie in front of her body.  i guess i was too numb to even care...because i just stood there...sipping my coffee...watching articles of my undergarments being sold for a dollar.  whatever.

sometimes people say all the right things.  and sometimes they don't...and i get mad.  i don't get mad at them...i just get mad in general.  the anger doesn't last long.  but one thing i've learned about myself is that the worst thing for me is when people pretend it didn't happen.  like...they just don't say anything and they don't acknowledge what i am going through.  like, "we're just gonna pretend this whole thing didn't happen."  yeah...i've learned that's not helpful.  i know people are different and for some...that would be the best thing.  but not for me.  so...i know that there are some times...that i will have to be uncomfortable so that someone else (the person who likes to sweep things under the rug) will be comfortable.  and it's ok for me to distance myself from that if i need to.  it won't feel that way forever.

****

chase made the battle of the alamo out of blocks and army men.  this kid really amazes me with this sort of stuff.

i've tried to get outside more.  the sun going down and the cool breeze in the evening is like a friend's invitation for coffee.  and after sitting for a spell...i even felt like grabbing my camera.

 

i'm working on teaching myself how to photograph in manual.  it's harder than it seems it should be...but the colors are amazingly better than in automatic.

 

i see the most difference in their eyes.

 

i started a book.  and that has been useful in softening some of those sneaky emotions.

i've always been able to be absorbed into characters...forgetting a bit of myself...becoming them...in the safest way.

 

on this particular evening...the sun lit the clouds like magic and turned them into the prettiest orange.  aiden pointed out this cloud and whispered, "it looks like heaven."

i instantly pictured my grandparents...both of my uncles that died a few days after their birth...chad's grandparents...and best of all...Jesus...holding and loving my baby.  i pictured them happy and laughing.  i pictured a beating heart and a sweet smile.

 

yes...one does and thinks strange things while recovering, indeed.

the story

i knew this would be a hard story to tell.  and most of all...i didn't want it to ever be my story.  but it is.  and there is absolutely nothing i can do about it...other than accept it as such.

so many of you already know what has happened.  but so many of you don't.  and i've never been one to hide.  i can't walk around in life half way.  i can't always wonder...

did they know??

about 5 weeks ago...chad and i found ourselves pregnant.

i say it that way...because that's really what it was like.  we weren't expecting it...or trying for it...or waiting for it.

that's what made it so different from the previous 4 times we had been in that situation.

it brought shock, first.  and for me...that shock faded quickly...and turned into excitement.  and the excitement gave way to pure happiness.  and the happiness paved the way for dreams.  and within a week...it was impossible to think of life before there were 5.

5 children.

i was going to have 5 children.

at my first appointment...as well as i could guess...i was around 7 weeks pregnant.  and i was going to see my baby's heartbeat.

she said...here's the yolk sac.  here's the baby.  it's measuring 5 weeks and 5 days...which is too early to see a heartbeat.  she finished up and helped me sit up.  i had been through this 4 times before...and every time...i smiled through this whole event.  and i realized...i hadn't smiled.  at all.  something was wrong.

she said, "please don't worry.  i can see it on your face.  don't worry.  come back next week...and we will do another ultrasound.  hopefully the baby will have grown and we will see a heartbeat.  everything looks like it should.  your numbers are great.  don't worry...you don't know your dates...so chances are...you caught the pregnancy really early."

and no matter what i did...no matter how hard i tried...i could not make those dates add up.

that's when we started praying and calling on family and friends to pray.  that's when i started having to trust God for the outcome of this baby.  and truly...i did.  i trusted Him like nobody's business.  i believed that He could breath life into this baby.  i believed that He was going to do just that.   i believed that at the next ultrasound appointment...it was going to be the beginning of a happy day.  i waited.  i prayed.  i begged.  i believed.

when the next appointment came...nothing had changed.  and that was devastating.  i'll never forget putting my face in my hands and silently sobbing.  i'll never forget the frozen image of our baby on the screen.  i'll never forget the technician saying, "i'm sorry."  i'll never forget looking at chad...with his head in his hands.  i'll never forget him saying, 

"ah.  that's not what i was expecting to hear."

and he wasn't saying it to me.

he was saying it to God.

he was grieving.

it seemed like an eternity...waiting for my doctor.

i remember chad saying...

"do you want me to go get someone in here?"

no.  she'll come when she can.

after all...this was the same woman who had dropped everything and come to me when she wasn't even on call to deliver annslee.  she would come when she could.

and she did.  and she shared her own story.  and she offered comfort.  and she offered hope.  she said our stories were similar.  and that made all the difference.

she also said...i really think we should wait until monday.  i will squeeze you in.  i want to scan you again.  i want to be 100%.

that's when i decided that i would wait.  even thought i didn't want to.  i would wait.  but i wouldn't hope.  as excruciating as the waiting would be...the hoping would be worse.

those 5 days were the hardest.  my baby was inside of me.  lifeless.  and there was absolutely nothing i could do about it.  i'm convinced that those 5 days will become lost somewhere in my memory eventually.  except for one night.  one night...i realized what my friends and family were praying for without telling me.

a miracle.

and i wondered...would i ever forgive myself if i didn't ask the creator God to perform a miracle on this baby?  and i knew the answer.  i had to become vulnerable before Him.  i had to open myself up to hope one last time.  and that prayer was the hardest of all.

it was then that i bowed before Him and asked for a miracle.  i opened myself up to hope.  and after that...i told him that if He didn't see fit to it...that i was willing to give over my child.  i gave up my child to Him.  and i cried.

the next ultrasound showed the same and this time...i didn't cry when i saw the screen.  i knew that that baby was gone.  that baby was with Jesus.  and that baby was ok.

the doctor called it a "missed miscarriage."  somehow...my body had missed it.

i had had a miscarriage.

that sentence held so much more weight than it ever had before.  you don't fully understand the weight of that sentence until it has to be uttered out of your own mouth.  you can mourn with friends after it has happen to them.  you can feel sad.  you can feel sorry.  but you don't feel the weight.  you just don't

i had two choices.  i could have surgery to remove it...or i could take medicine to make it happen at home.  one would be quick.  one would be excruciatingly painful...both emotionally and physically.  we choice the latter.  surgery has risks and is expensive.  if possible...i felt that, for the first time in my life, i had the smallest understanding of Jesus in the garden.

"please Father...i can't do this.  please...let this cup pass from me.  this is going to hurt...so bad.  this is going to hurt me.  please."

chad said, "i won't leave you."

and he didn't.

i took the pills alone.  knowing what those pills were going to do...i willingly swallowed them.  and i lie down and waited.  i waited for the storm to come.  i waited for the pain to come.

and it did.

throughout that night...as our 4 children peacefully slept...i walked through hell.  i experienced pouring death from my body.  chad would feel me writhe with pain and walk beside me to the place where it would pour out.  there were baseball sized clots of tissue coming one after the other followed by gushing blood and fluid.  my hands would shake as i tried to clean myself up.  and i would sob.

my body was going through it...and as a mother...i was going through it.  and as i watched, what should have been life, drain from my body...chad had his hand on my back.  he was steady as a rock.  the look on his face was not one of disgust.  it was one of compassion and strength.  i would remove the tissue and he would take it from me.  he never made me have to decide what to do with it.  he never made me throw it away.  he knew...without me ever having to say a word...that i could not be the one to physically let it go.  he cleaned the floors on his hands and knees...over and over again.  he was with me.  i wasn't alone.

the next day...i couldn't even stand up because of how much blood i had lost.  i slept.  i slept all day.

and slowly...as the days have passed...my body and spirit has begun to recover.  i keep telling myself,

"you are strong.  you can do this.  you will be okay."

and i will be.

finding joy

may is supposed to be such a happy month...the quickly approaching summer...the evidence of the promises of new life...warm breezes replacing cool evenings...lemonade.  yet life has the ability to present trials without warning or preparation, threatening all joy in it's wake.

the trick when faced with sadness, is not getting stuck in the anger.  with sadness comes grief.  and with grief comes anger.  and with anger comes...doubt.

as i have walked this dark road...there have been times that i felt courted by the enemy.  and to be honest...i spent a good, full day listening to him.  he whispered lies of God's character.  he invited me to dance to the music of false hope.  he offered me fruit of destruction to eat.  he wanted me to believe that anger and a hard heart would make it hurt less.  he taught me to laugh at God and His promises.  and he did it in such a sneaky way.  he disguised it as...normal.  this is a "normal" way to feel.  after all...that God of yours gave you something...only to take it away.

i spoke with a friend for a long time that night...after i had been courted all day.  i told her of my new thoughts about this God that we serve.  and as i was speaking my new thoughts...it was then that i realized that they weren't really MY thoughts...but his.

i've been clutching tight to my friend's words over the last few days:

"don't listen too long, friend."

and i've realized that when i am faced with something i don't want to be faced with...that tends to be my weakness.

i listen too long.  my mind becomes weak...and it starts believing things that are untrue.  it starts believing things that are dangerous.

and although this month of may has me facing sadness...there is also joy.

without sadness in life...would we even know joy?

today...i choose to find joy in...

saint patrick's day green:

my son playing "home" on the ukulele:

my mama dove friend who returned home:

 

the color yellow:

 

innocence:

 

tip-toes:

 

big brown eyes and light blonde hair:

 

twirling:

 

hatching eggs:

expressions:

 

her turning my favorite number:

a husband who loves his family:

 

four generations on mother's day:

 

the fact that she asked for a "skillet" for her birthday:

 

fairy gardens:

 

those four generations making cookies:

 

and obviously...my sweet chase.  even if he is going through a "no pictures please" phase.

 

joy is always around.  but sometimes...you have to be willing to see it.

it's a comin'...

today was the last day of co-op.  that means that i no longer teach pre-school every tuesday and thursday.  i loved those kids...but hollllllaaaaaa...this girl is ready for summer.

summer means...life relaxes into a softer, slower rhythm.  don't get me wrong...i can get excited about new back packs; a fresh box of crayons; never written in spirals with the promise of maturing stories; and freshly sharpened pencils like nobody's business.  and i always start strong.  schedules and meal plans taped to the fridge.  lunch kits taking residence on a main shelf in the pantry.  alarm set at 6:45 and outfits picked out the night before.  but that's not where i like to live.  i do it.  and i find joy in it for a while.  but i wear down after christmas.  and then it's just...hang on till summer!  it's a-comin'.

because summer is where laid back lives.  and that's pretty much where i like to dwell.

summer is reading books for fun.  it's piling in mama and daddy's bed for a late night movie.  back packs are replaced by swim bags on the hooks by the door.  lunch kits are replaced with a picnic basket.  the alarm clock is switched off for good.  schedules are replaced with a summer bucket list.  and once a week ice cream outings with friends are put into affect.

yeah.  some people are school year people.  and i love that about them.  but...you'll never hear me say, "laaaawwwddd have mercy...i can't wait to get these kids back to school."  i like to live in summer.

and it might as well be the day after thanksgiving...where the magic of christmas is upon us, this last month of school!  because each night gets a little more relaxed.  homework gets a little less "necessary."  we head out barefoot.  we linger in the driveway, laughing with neighbors a little longer.  it's a-comin'.

enjoying lately:

MASTER'S SUNDAY!

little girl sleepovers...complete with shirley temples:

sleeping in tents and summer jammies:

perched lip photos and the fact that she constantly wears that dress-up veil.  she calls it her hair...cuz she wants hair like her sister's:

it's a-growin' puddin' cup...don't you worry.  besides...you look like a doll.  and...you got pixie flair!

 

familly hang outs:

a visit from a friend from s.c.

she happens to take the best pictures!  i only wish we had gotten some of her!

little girls in pink leotards.  just because:

looking tired:

being windblown:

 and looking up:

here's to looking up.  summer's a-comin'.

i'm gonna live there a while.

wrong again

sibling love and support and celebration is a happiness that surpasses most anything else.  it never ceases to bring laughter and swelling pride.

 

in soccer...scoring 3 goals in a game is called a "hat trick."

 

it is not easily done...and is a right of passage, of sorts, for a soccer player.

my girl did it.

unfortunately...her big brother didn't get to come to the game to see her.  however, his reaction upon hearing the news was the best big brother reaction i think i've ever seen.

 

 

this relationship of theirs...

it grows every day.  and it's beautiful...and raw...and real...and kind.

it's love.

her little sister followed suit.

 

when i stood on the side-lines of the soccer field, watching my girl play and make things happen...i felt a pride and excitement that i didn't think could be matched by any other moments that day.

and then we came home.

and i had been wrong.