I see you

I see you counting down the days and hoping that maybe this month it will happen.

I see you as the quiet tears fall down your face when you realize that once again, it’s not your time.

I see you sat in waiting rooms, dreading another blood test but knowing you would do anything to hold a baby in your arms.

I see you become an expert on levels and numbers and being so focused that some days you feel like you are losing your mind.

I see you sit in the doctor’s offices holding onto your belly and praying that it’s not true.

I see the pain in your eyes as you try and hold onto the hope that maybe they were wrong.

I see you weeping as you hear the news.

I see you as your heart breaks and you wonder how you will make it through.

I see you as you listen to all the details without hearing a word they are saying.

I see you as you realize the end has come before it really had a chance to begin.

I see you as you drive home silently not knowing what to say.

I see you as you grieve the loss of the life that was so short lived.

I see you as you hold your baby for the last time.

I see you as you to try to comprehend what is happening before you.

I see you as you weep in the quiet, cold hospital room.

I see you as lay there thinking that this pain will destroy you.

I see you as you say goodbye before you had enough hellos.

I see you as you try to figure out how to love one someone so much but then have to learn how to let them go.

I see you as they wheel you out of the hospital with empty arms.

I see you as you enter the house that was ready for a baby you will never bring home.

I see you feeling so empty and alone and wondering if you will ever be the same again.

I see you because I see me.

I see all the times that I felt so alone, confused, and heartbroken.

I see every doctors appointment, every diagnosis, every loss and some days I still feel them like they were just yesterday.

I see you, and I want you to know you are not alone. The grief and loss will hurt and probably for a long time but there are others that have walked this path before you and what I can tell you is that one day maybe weeks, months or even years from now the pain will begin to subside.

Although you will never be the same, you will learn to navigate this life even with the scars. If you allow the Father to carry you when you no longer have the strength, allow yourself to feel the depth of the pain and the loss, you will make it through and one day you will smile again.

Weathering the Storm

You could say that I have been living in survival mode for the past few years. From our infertility journey to our miscarriage to the loss of Oliver, it started to feel like I was waiting for the next bad thing to happen. Psychologists believe that this is just the brain’s way of coping. Normally your brain is in learning mode but when you experience trauma your brain goes into survival mode. There are certainly varying degrees of this, the worst, of course, being PTSD but the way it affects you and your everyday life are very similar. When the brain is in survival mode, it starts expecting bad things to happen and perceives negatively that might not actually be negative at all. It’s the brain’s way of protecting you from future trauma.

When we lost Oliver and my body had been through physical and emotional trauma my brain shifted to survival mode. I think the fact that we had lost the twins within the same year meant that my brain could reason that trauma and loss was going to continue to happen to me so I should protect myself against it.

So that’s how I functioned, day in and day out. On some level I felt like I was moving forward because we were pursuing adoption and I was still getting up every day and going to work but the reality was much different. The adoption process gave me something else to occupy my mind and also allowed me to focus on something that at first I could control. I could fill out the paperwork and organize the home study. The problem only came when the planning and preparing part was over and then we just had to wait.

We applied for case after case and although there was no actual trauma occurring I think over time as we heard that we had not been picked it was like my brain got confirmation that “things just weren’t going to work out”.

Then one day we got the call, we had been picked; I don’t think my brain could actually process it. Thankfully, the time from when Jackson’s birth mom chose us to when he was born was just 6 weeks because by the end I felt like I was losing my mind. I couldn’t sleep, I spent hours upon hours worrying about all the things that could go wrong. I kept telling people I just need him to get here so I know he’s okay. I was never concerned that his birth mom would change her mind but more that something would go wrong in the pregnancy or labor.

Finally, the day came and Jackson was and I breathed a huge sigh of relief, only later to discover that now I had a whole new list of things to be anxious about. All in all, I managed my anxiety pretty well but every so often it would overwhelm me and I would be terrified something bad was going to happen to him. Over time these moments became less and less but what I discovered was that the trauma of the last few years had left me almost holding my breath for the next bad thing to happen. I eventually rationalized that it was unlikely that something bad would happen to Jackson but it would appear in other areas of my life instead.

In the last few months what I have discovered is that I had lived so long in survival mode than I wasn’t sure how to live any other way. I knew that by this point in my journey it wasn’t about the grief or loss anymore, it was about seeing things from a different perspective. It was only through countless hours of prayer, discipleship, and therapy that I had even managed to get to where I was in my walk but I knew that this time it was my choice.

There was one particular day that it became really apparent to me. I was sat in my living room with both our kids and I realized that life was good and I mean really good. God had answered my prayers in abundance. He had given us a house that I could never have dreamed of owning, He gave us 2 beautiful children who are truly gifts from God, he gave us incredible relationships with their birth families and has exceeded my expectations over and over again. In that moment I realized that I had to choose to live this life, not the life my past experience or fears had told me I was living but actually living the life right in front of me.

I don’t know where you are right now, maybe you have just experienced a traumatic loss or maybe it was many years ago now. What I would want to ask you though, is what can you choose today? Can you choose to find a counselor to help you process what has happened? Could you choose to reach out to someone who knows what you are going through and ask them to pray for you? Or like me is it time to choose to see the life that’s right in front of you and not the life your experiences and fears are telling you is real?

You are a survivor, you have struggled but you have survived. You have weathered the storms of life and although you may still have the scars you are making it through. There will be hard days and better days but know that you are not alone and one day the storm will pass and the sun will rise again. I have been on both sides of the storm and the one thing I know is that eventually the storm passes and the sun begins to shine again.

The Best is Yet to Come

The best is yet to come is a phrase I have heard many times before but over the last couple of years I have at times found it hard to believe that to be true. As I sat holding my sleeping toddler on Christmas Day evening the tears started rolling down my face as I remembered the last 2 Christmases and how they had both been tinged with grief and sadness. Christmas 2013 was just 8 weeks after we lost our son and Christmas 2014 we lost my grandma just a few days before. I had come to the end of those years exhausted and heartbroken and honestly I couldn’t see past my grief some days but as I held my little boy this Christmas I realized how much hope I had this year. It wasn’t because everything had been perfect. This year has had its own struggles and challenges but it’s also a year where I have begun to see the answer to many prayers, some of which I had never even spoken out loud.

As I started to reflect and pray about the New Year ahead I felt a new level of resilience and strength that I haven’t felt in a long time. 2015 has not only been a year of answered prayers but has also been a significant year in the healing of my heart and body. Until you experience grief, you never realize how long it takes and what an effect it has on you, physically, emotionally and spiritually. After experiencing years of infertility and miscarriage and then losing our newborn son I was bruised and battered from the battle and was almost “waiting for the next shoe to drop”. Every part of me was exhausted and there were many days it took all my energy just to get out of bed and face the day. But slowly over time I began to heal physically emotionally and spiritually.

As 2015 began I felt like it would be a significant year but I couldn’t say how or why. Then in the early summer of last year, it became very clear why this year would be significant in more ways than one. In May God called us to a new city and a new job. He called us to continue to trust him on the journey he was taking us on. When we said yes he began to show how much he loved us and remind us how faithful he really is. I’d like to say that I didn’t need him to prove to me that he was trustworthy but in my frail human nature there were many times over the past few years that I felt he had let me down. Even though He knew he had shown his faithfulness a thousand times before he knew what my heart needed.

That’s the incredible thing about God, though, he doesn’t just love me, He loves me extravagantly. He doesn’t just provide for my needs, He exceeds my expectations and gives me more than I could’ve asked for. He provided for every detail of our move from the jobs we got, to the house we live in, to the wonderful family who cares for Jackson when I’m at work.

I think the biggest thing I will take from 2015 is that the Father loves us in our brokenness and continues to lavish his generosity on us even when we are unsure and find it hard to trust him. He builds us up piece by piece and makes us stronger than we were before. People sometimes tell I’m strong and brave because of all that I’ve been through but honestly, it’s just my Heavenly Father in me that makes me strong. Without Him, I am frail and broken but in Him, I am whole, brave and strong.

So as I step in 2016 I step with new strength. I feel like this year He is calling me to be decisive and determined, to take on new ground. The word he gave me this year is resolute. Resolute means determined, faithful, and unwavering.

As I dug more deeply into what that word meant I found that the synonyms of it are faithful, loyal, constant, staunch and steadfast. As I read into each of those definitions the Lord began to highlight all the areas in my life that he wanted me to be resolute.

He also gave me the verse 1 Corinthians 15: 58.

The NIV translation says

“Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.”

And The Message translation says

“58 With all this going for us, my dear, dear friends, stand your ground. And don’t hold back. Throw yourselves into the work of the Master, confident that nothing you do for him is a waste of time or effort.”

As I read that verse I felt the Lord calling me to look at the areas of my life where I do things out of obligation or guilt or out of misplaced responsibility. He revealed to me that if those are my reasons then it will always feel like a waste of time but if I am doing them for him with determination then I will have a whole new perspective. If they are things that he has called me to do then that this the attitude I should do them with and if they are not what he has called me to do then maybe I should let someone else do them or just let them go.

I don’t know how the last year has been for you maybe it’s been filled with heartache or maybe it’s been filled with joy or maybe it’s been a mixture of both. Whatever it has been I urge you to reflect on the last and all that it has taught you and then ask God to show you what he has for you in this new year. Maybe 2016 is about healing for you or maybe it’s about breakthrough, maybe it’s about strength or maybe its persistence. Just allow the Lord to show you and then dig deep into what he is calling you into this year…. the best is yet to come!

When Everything is Changing

Jackson was 5 months old on Saturday! I can’t believe that 5 months has gone so fast and that I have only blogged once since he came home!

The last few months have been a whirlwind. First Jackson arrived and so we were adjusting to being new parents and then I changed jobs which was another adjustment. We had the holidays and all the chaos that those bring plus right before Christmas my grandma passed away. That was a very difficult time for me and I still miss her every day. I think because of all the grief and loss I have been through in the last couple of years, it brought it all to the surface again and I felt so broken. Then right after Christmas, my house flooded and then in the same week my pastor and the youth pastor at my church (where I also work) resigned and moved away.

I have spent many days in the last few months feeling like I just was just trying to catch my breath. Like I was standing in the waves and every time I managed to stand back up I got hit by another wave. Now not all those things were bad things though many were. It was more that it was all happening at the same time.

I was chatting to my husband the other day and he was saying how I just didn’t seem like myself and I realized that I needed to start blogging again. During my time of grief, it was an outlet for me to express how I was feeling and process some of what was going on…and the funny thing is I hate journalling! When I sit down to journal it just doesn’t happen but somehow blogging almost seems like a conversation and so the extrovert in me finds it a lot easier to process this way. I think somehow it made me feel less alone. That somehow even though this was something only I could walk through, I had people walking with me, praying for me and encouraging me along the way.

Now as I have thought about the last few months it has definitely been a seen of transition. Transitioning from being a couple to a family again, from working one job to working another one, from living in a house that was reasonably organized to living in a house with no insulation or flooring! It was also a transition to get used to my grandma not being around and that was a hard one. Still, now I think to myself sometimes that I should “call nana and tell her that” and then I realize I can’t.

I think that’s the hard thing with transition though whether it’s combined with grief or not because I think that most of us don’t really like change. Even if we like the new, exciting things I don’t think many of like the process of getting there.

The dictionary says that transition means “the process or a period of changing from one state or condition to another” and to be honest I think that means we are almost always in a state of transition. Hopefully, as a Christian, I am striving to be more like Jesus every day and that is going to mean that change and transformation have to happen in my life.

Transition is also a term that they use for the part of labor when you are getting close to the end when your baby will be born but also I’ve heard people say its also the part when you think you can’t take it anymore. I think that’s really interesting, right when you are about to get breakthrough is also the point when you want to give up.

I have certainly had many of those moments over that last few months; moments when I just wanted to give up. But what I’ve discovered is that perspective changes everything. Some days I would be so focused on the difficult parts of the changes that I couldn’t see all the amazing things too. The changes were stretching me and it was tiring and even painful at times. I was felt like saying I’m too tired, too busy, too sad to keep going and then I remembered God was still right there. Now that might sound silly because of course He was still there but it wasn’t about whether he had left me or not it was about whether I was listening to him or was my head so full of all the things that I couldn’t do that I couldn’t hear his voice.

So I decided to start changing my perspective and remember to listen to my Heavenly Father.  In many areas, I have already seen that breakthrough and for the places that I haven’t, I am relying on him for the strength to get through the time of change and transition.

The other thing I’ve realized is that during a time of transition you need the right support. Whether you are a new parent, or you are starting a new job it’s always easier if there is someone who is a few steps ahead of you. I even found this with my grief journey. It helped to have people around me who knew how I was feeling but also knew that I would make it to the other side.

Finally, I’ve realized that it’s better to keep your “eye on the prize” rather than on where you are at this moment. So whether that’s remembering that one day your baby will sleep through the night, or one day your job will be easier or even that one day your pain and loss won’t hurt so much. Whatever it is your breakthrough will come and eventually be on the other side. Now I also don’t mean that you should always be focused on the future but more that you can have peace in the present knowing that it won’t always be this way.
So during this time of transition and the many more that are sure to come I reminding myself to spend time with my Heavenly Father and listen to his voice, to find the right support and to remember that the breakthrough will come!

I had no idea…

This time last year I had no idea what the next few hours, days and weeks ahead would hold. I thought I was just recovering from a stomach bug but before I knew it I was being rushed to the ER and was told that our son would be delivered that day.

I had no idea the love I would feel for that tiny little person.

I had no idea how often I would have to fight for my life in the days ahead.

I had no idea that it would take all my strength to be wheeled to the NICU every day just to spend a few precious moments with our son.

I had no idea the moments we had would be cut so short.

I had no idea of the heart-wrenching pain I would feel as I held our son for the last time.

I had no idea how it would feel to stand in a little chapel surrounded by friends and family celebrating our son’s short life.

I had no idea what it would feel like to wake up day after day thinking it was all a bad dream and then realizing it was real over and over again.

I had idea how many waves of grief I would feel in the days, weeks and months ahead

BUT

I had no idea that my community would come around us like they did and stay by our side 24 hours a day.

I had no idea what it would feel like to have others stand for me and fight when I couldn’t.

I had no idea how many cards and flowers would be sent from all over the world.

I had no idea of the community I would find amongst the most courageous and strong mothers I had ever met, who knew what it was like to go through every day without their children.

I had no idea what a massive impact our son would have in his short life.

I had no idea that just 12 short months on I would be holding a brand new baby in my arms and what joy I would feel again.

I had no idea that eventually the clouds would begin to part and I would begin to see the sun again.

I had no idea what this journey would like.

And now a year on I still miss him every day and wish that I could hold him in my arms again. I wish he could meet his little brother and grow up beside him every day.

BUT

I am thankful for that he is happy and whole in the arms of Jesus.

I am thankful that I will see him again.

I am thankful that I was able to experience the true strength and love of a community surrounding me in grief.

I am so incredibly thankful for his little brother, Jackson who brings me so much joy every day and heals my heart in ways he will never understand.

I am thankful for the life of my son, Oli even as short as it was. Those 7 days mattered and they always will!

So today, Oli, I celebrate you and all that you were and still are to us! We will love you always and look forward to the day we will see you again.

Happy Birthday my precious boy!

Working in Our Waiting

I sit here in our nursery and look at the empty crib and the books on the shelf. I think of the child whose laughter will fill this room and of the joy of watching our child sleep and wake in that crib, of all the memories we will make here.

My sister and sister in law turned the nursery back into a guest room after Oli died. I was so thankful for that. I was so glad that I didn’t have to pack away all of his things and say goodbye all over again.

When we had completed our home study I decided to start decorating the room like a nursery again. I moved the bed out and put the crib up. I got a bookshelf and started filling it. I decided that I would do a little something, create something or decorate an area of the nursery each week.

Unlike a pregnancy, I have no lead up this time or framework on how long this will take. So for me being able to engage in the process by creating and decorating and dreaming is my own way of making a place for our child in our home and getting to find joy in the journey. As I have done these things it’s also like I am making a place in my heart for this child. When I was pregnant it was like our babies had a place in my heart from the moment I saw that blue line. They were eternally connected to me and I think that’s why it was so hard to let them go.

But this journey is different there is no blue line or week-by-week progression. There is no app to tell me what to do each week so instead, I have to make my own journey. I try to daily go in the nursery and turn the lamp on and pray for our child. Although I can’t talk to him/her or sing to them like I did to Oli I can find a way to connect with the process and make a place for them in my heart and our home.

This adoption process is certainly an emotional rollercoaster. Nearly every week we apply for a new case and hope for the best. We hand in our papers and pray and hope each time and so far every time we’ve been disappointed. There are days when its so hard to find the courage again to apply for another case knowing full well we could be disappointed but also knowing this time it could be “our” child.

One day we will apply and we will get the call that we have been chosen. “Chosen” is an unusual word because it basically means to be preferred. It means that a birthmother somewhere has decided that she would prefer us to care for her child rather than anyone else.

I don’t get a chance to sit down with these birthmothers and convince them that I would be the best mother for their child. I don’t get to show her the nursery and explain that I have prayed for this child every day. I don’t get to do any of those things so all I can do is wait.

The word wait in the Bible has many meanings including to hope and to expect. For example in Isaiah 40:31 it says

 

“But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;

    they shall mount up with wings like eagles;

they shall run and not be weary;

    they shall walk and not faint.”

 

The entire English phrase “Those who wait upon” (or “Those who wait for”) is translated from one word:vekovye (וְקֹויֵ֤). This word finds its root in Hebrew qavah.

If you look up the Strong’s entry for this word, we see this:

1.     to wait, look for, hope, expect

a.     (Qal) waiting (participle)

b.     (Piel)

i.                to wait or look eagerly for

ii.              to lie in wait for

iii.             to wait for, linger for

 

In Old Testament Hebrew thought, to wait was an active phrase, not a passive one. To wait on something was not to sit around and hope it will happen to you, but to actively pursue – a bit like a waiter presenting the options on a menu.

One of my favorite songs has a line in that says “You are working in our waiting” and this is what I hold onto every day. I hold to the fact that me praying for each of these children changes something. That somehow me interceding on their behalf alters the path that their life could have taken. That even if this child isn’t our child they can still have incredible parents who know God and will love this child more than anything and that somehow this will bring breakthrough and redemption to the lives of all involved. I pray that each one of them will come to God as their Heavenly Father. For me, it’s my way to be an active participant in the waiting.

I think God called me to this journey not only because He wants to redeem and restore all I have lost but because he wants to teach me how to wait well and so that I can pray for each of these children. We have applied for 10 cases so far and every day I think and pray for each of those children. I have their names written down in my journal and I know that God knows each one of them.

I’m choosing to trust and believe that He is “working in our waiting”. That he has a bigger plan than me or my family and that it’s all working together for his bigger or better plan. I already love this child and have hopes and dreams for them. They are already ours and have been ordained by God to be in our family. God knew before the beginning of time that this child would be our child.

I believe that one day we will get “the call” and we will bring home our child- what an amazing day that will be! But while I wait, I will pray, and while I pray I will think of each of the children God has chosen for us to cross paths with and for our little one wherever you may be.

Will you stand?

Recently I attended a memorial service for families who had lost babies at the hospital where we had our son, Oli. I knew it would be a day full of emotions. As I stood in that chapel with so many other families I was struck my how many broken hearts there were in the room; each one of us was in a different place on our grief journey. Some had just lost their baby and their emotions were still raw. Others were months or even years into their grief and the emotions were less raw but you could tell the pain was still there. There stood so many mothers who just a few months before had been overjoyed at seeing that little blue line and in a moment it all fell apart. Some had lost babies before they were born, others like us had lost them after a few short days in the NICU and others had lost them later on.

As we all sat there tears streaming down our face, listening to the music wondering why it was us sitting there grieving our children, each one of us missing our babies, the Chaplin stood up and gave a brief talk. He spoke of the journey of grief and the long road that we must each travel and then he said something that has stuck with me ever since. He explained that as a father he had walked his own journey of grief after losing his daughter to SIDS but as he walked that journey with his wife and countless other people he truly believed that, “no one could ever know the pain of a mother’s broken heart.” He was explaining how we each go on our grief journey as mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, and grandparents, yet there was something uniquely profound about a mother’s grief.

I don’t know if its because we carried them and so it feels like we lost a part of ourselves or that its just the way God created us, to be forever connected to our children. I think it’s a just part of God’s heart that he gave uniquely to mothers. Now please don’t hear me say that a father’s, aunt’s, uncle’s or grandparent’s grief isn’t valid or true. I think that everyone who has lost a child experiences pain & loss I just thought it was interesting that from a father’s perspective who lost a child and someone who has walked with so many through grief and loss that he thought there was something unique about a mother’s pain.

As I have been thinking about this over Lent, I started thinking about Mary and the loss and pain she experienced. I wonder how Mary must have felt on the day she discovered that Jesus was going to die. I’ve always wondered if she had always known. My guess is that even though she knew that he was her Savior that her heart as his mother would have continued to hope that there would be another way. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to stand at the cross watching your Son die knowing that it was unjust. The pain must have been unbearable as she watched her son take the pain and suffering of everyone on his shoulders.

I have no idea what Mary’s thoughts were or even how she managed to make it through those days. But, over the last few months, I have had a glimpse into what that must have felt like. I have always been struck by the fact that even in his final moments Jesus made sure his mother had someone to look after her. He knew that her grief would be unbearable. Until this year I had never really thought about how her grief must have continued even after he ascended to Heaven. I had always got stuck on the fact that he had risen and was in Heaven but his mother was still left without him. She still had to go on every day without the son she had raised and watched grow. Even though we know our children are safe and in Heaven, it doesn’t take away the pain of wanting them here with us.

Jesus was not only Mary’s son but her Savior as well and so he knew she would need someone to stand with her in the days, weeks and years ahead. This last year I have learned a lot about the power of people standing with you in grief. Some days are good and we don’t need people as much, some days are hard and we just need to know someone is there. Grief is so unpredictable and this can make it hard for people stand with you in your grief. A knowing smile, an outreached hand, a thoughtful text all make us feel slightly less alone. Even though it doesn’t take the pain or loss away it makes slightly easier to bear.

I think sometimes people get afraid that they will say the wrong thing and so don’t say anything at all that, I think a lot of the time that’s worse though. We just want to feel like we are not alone and that are children are not forgotten. I had one friend send me a gift and a card a few weeks after Oli had died,  it just said that she couldn’t imagine what I was going through but that she guessed it was hard to see everyone going back to their normal lives when I was still dealing with such unbearable loss. She wanted me to know she hadn’t forgotten. I wept as I read the card but they were good tears. They were tears of a mother whose heart was thankful that someone loved me enough to take the risk. Handling people in their grief is risky and unpredictable but I can tell from someone who has experienced it and continues to experience it, it’s worth the risk.

So I will leave you with this, at some point we will all know someone who experiences grief and probably the loss of a child and the question is will you choose to have the courage to stand with them when they need you the most?

Will you STAND with them when the world falls apart and they have no idea how they will make it through?

Will you STAND with them as they say goodbye to a life gone too soon?

Will you STAND with them as they pack away their hopes & dreams in little boxes that will never be opened again?

Will you STAND with them when it takes all their strength to just get out of bed?

Will you STAND with them when they need to cry?

Will you STAND with them when they just don’t want to be alone?

Will you STAND with them when they have nothing to say?

Will you STAND with them when all they want to do is talk?

Will you STAND with them on the good days?

Will you STAND with them when they start to laugh again?

Will you STAND with them remind and them that you will never forget the precious life we lost?

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And these three remain…

As I came to the end of the most difficult year of my life I began reflecting on what remains when everything else falls apart. When the world falls apart and nothing makes sense anymore what can I hold onto? As I reflected on this I was reminded of the verse in Corinthians about faith, hope, and love.

 “And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.” 1 Corinthians 13:13

Hope is an interesting concept for us as human beings. I believe we are designed to instinctively put our hope in things. We make plans based on what we hope for. When I was pregnant I bought a stroller and decorated the nursery. I planned a baby shower. Now, none of these things were bad things (I had to prepare for the upcoming arrival of our son) but the problem is that when it doesn’t happen the way you expected you are more disappointed. It’s a natural human instinct to put our hope in things, especially when we believe they are what God has promised us. But that’s when our idea of hope can get blurry.

With everything that has happened in the last 12 months, I’ve wrestled with the idea of hope. I have hoped for things that I have seen happen but I have also hoped for things that have not happened or didn’t go the way I expected. I hoped that Phoebe (second twin) would survive and be healthy but that didn’t happen. I hoped that Oli would be well and that we would bring him home but that didn’t happen either. Those were big hopes and I fully believe that they were godly things to desire. The struggle for me was how to keep having hope after things had gone so wrong. How could I keep hoping in the midst of such devastating loss?

As I pondered this a deeper question emerged; do I really understand what hope is, and am I putting my hope in the right place? Many of us use hope in statements such as “I hope I get that promotion” and “I hope it doesn’t rain.” I’ve said many of these myself but I don’t think this grasps what hope is really about. Hope in an earthly sense is about expecting something to happen based on what we know. The problem with that kind of hope is that our knowledge only goes so far. We can’t see all the pieces and so when it doesn’t go the way we expected we feel let down. We can’t understand why God didn’t intervene and do something. After losing Oli I really struggled with the idea of hope because after losing the twins and then finding out I was pregnant again with Oli I had started to let myself hope again. I made plans based on the fact that Oli was going to be born and that I would be his mum. I started attaching things to what I was hoping for.

We look at verses like Jeremiah 29:11 and think that means that bad things won’t happen to us but that’s actually not the promise in the verse. The promise of the verse is that He knows the plans and that regardless of what we can see, he will continue to work for our good and that give us hope. But this kind of hope is different. This is the hope in who God is and that is something that won’t change.

After losing Oli I thought about the things that I knew God had promised me and what I could be sure of. When the world around you has been shaken you have to find what’s unshakeable. As I thought and prayed about this I realized that God never promised me that Oli would be okay or even that I would be pregnant in the first place. He did promise that he loves me and that he sent his Son to die so that I could live. He did promise me eternal life and that he would never leave me. So even though things didn’t work out the way I had “hoped” I’m learning how to trust and hope in who He is and not what I think he is going to do for me. And that kind of hope is like the hope spoken of in Hebrews 6:19  “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure”

It is something we can hold on to regardless of circumstances. His character never changes, so even when everything is shaken and the word falls apart we can hold onto the unshakeable.

And when we start to have this kind of hope it allows faith to rise within us.

The bible says “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Hebrews 11: 1). So it’s not about wishful thinking or about hoping for things that we have no guarantee of. Faith is an assurance in something and someone who has shown himself to be trustworthy. Faith is about trusting in a God that sent his son to die and who rose from the dead. Faith is knowing that we have salvation because of what he has done for us. It’s about trusting in the bigger picture about continuing to believe he has good things for me despite the painful events of the past few months. It’s trusting that one way or another God’s promises always come to fulfillment, but it is not always the way we thought. We can have faith in a God that love us and that will never change.

When I was growing up I was told that love is not just a feeling but a choice. There are days when I choose to love the people in my life even though they annoy me or make bad choices. But there is also a kind of love that I discovered this year that is unlike any other kind of love, and that is the love of a mother for her child. When I saw Oli for the first time there was no question about whether I loved him or not. The feeling was so overwhelming and so deep that I could never deny it. After losing him I began to reflect on the kind of love God has for us and the pain he must feel when we turn away from him. When you have loved someone that deeply, the pain of loss goes that deep, too. I cannot imagine what it must have been like for God to watch us turn from him after all he had given us. Although I cannot fully grasp the depth of love and therefore loss that God feels for his children, I feel like I’ve begun to get a glimpse of it. This year has given me a greater understanding of the kind of overwhelming incredible perfect love He has for us and how it reaches us in our darkest hours. The amazing thing about the kind of love He has for us is that it’s perfect. It has no faults. And that kind of love is like a light. It pierces through darkness and fear. Where there is light there is no room for darkness. Light and darkness cannot occupy the same space. As it says in 1 John 4: 18 “ Perfect love casts out fear”. God’s perfect love cannot occupy the same space as fear.

This year I have experienced things that I would have thought would have gripped me with an overwhelming and unending fear like losing the Ezekiel, Phoebe & Oli. But what I discovered is that even in the most painful and scary moments, if I allow God’s perfect love to occupy my heart, then there is no room for fear. The thing with this kind of love is that we have to allow it to occupy those spaces in our hearts where fear lurks. We have to give God permission to meet us in our fear with his perfect love. It might sound crazy but when I held Oli for the last time and said goodbye, I felt no fear. Instead, I felt completely enveloped by his perfect love.

In the days following Oli’s death, I have truly felt God’s love surrounding me all the time. Sometimes it is quiet and gentle, like his hand resting upon me, and sometimes it is powerful and overwhelming like a wave, but it’s always constant and it never fails me. So even though I come to the end of this year knowing loss and pain like I never have before, I also have experienced a love like never before. As I allow him to love me in the way only He can, my fear begins to disappear and hope begins to rise in my heart again. So as I stand on the edge of a new year I know that his love will continue to find me and that I can trust in His gracious plan for my life.

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Thankfulness

As I sit surrounded by my family this Thanksgiving, I’m reflecting on all that has happened since last year. This time last year we had just had our first failed fertility treatment and were anticipating trying again in just a couple of days. I was disappointed but hopeful.

If someone had told me then all that would happen in the next 12 months, I probably wouldn’t have believed them and I would have certainly never thought I would have survived it. Losing 3 children in less than a year would have seemed impossible to live through. But I’m still here, breathing, surviving, making it through one day at a time. I’m constantly amazed at how much capacity the heart has to love and to lose and then continue beating.

One thing I have learned though in the last year is about the power of thankfulness. Now don’t get me wrong, there have been many times in the past year and especially the past few weeks that I haven’t felt very thankful. As I held my baby as he took his final breaths I was certainly not overwhelmed with gratitude, or when the doctor told me that they couldn’t find a heartbeat for the second time in one week. But as the overwhelming pain and shock subside, I realize how much I still have to be thankful for.

One of the reasons that I choose to be thankful is that it increases my hope and doesn’t allow the enemy to have a hold on me. The enemy has already stolen so much already that I’m not willing to give him any more. If I dwell on what I have lost and how it should have been, then it’s very hard to have hope and believe that God still has good things for me. Now that is not to say that I should ignore the pain and loss of those things but instead it is to acknowledge the pain, the grief, and the loss and then choose to be thankful in the midst of it. If I choose to be thankful, then I’m choosing to believe that this is not the end of my story and that my Heavenly Father is still faithful even in the valley. Thankfulness also doesn’t take away the pain of losing my children or make the grief any easier, but it does realign my heart to one who holds all the pieces. It helps me have an eternal perspective and remember that His promise was to wipe every tear and redeem every loss. So today, as families all around the country gather and remember what they are thankful for, I’m going to choose to be thankful again.

This year, and especially today, I am thankful for:

–       My family and how they have carried me through the last few weeks. Who cared for me when I was sick, who held me as I cried, who planned the most beautiful memorial service for my precious son. For every little thing, they do for me every day to help me get through. I have no idea what I’d do without them.

–       My nephew whose smile and laugh has brought me so much joy in the last few weeks. Who heals my heart in ways I will never fully understand.

–       A community of friends that stood by us as we fought for Oli’s life, held us as we said goodbye, prayed for us, made meals, bought coffee, sent flowers, have given hugs and have wept with me.

–       For a husband who prayerfully fought for our son every day of his short life and never left his side.

–       Seeing those two little heartbeats of our twins and for the 10 weeks, I got to carry them.

–       Oliver and the 26 weeks and 4 days I was pregnant with him. For every kick, for every scan, for the sound of his little heartbeat. I thankful that I got to meet him and hold him and tell him how much I loved him.. I am thankful for every hour I spent with him in the 7 days he was here.

–       Most of all I am thankful that I have an eternal hope in a Heavenly Father who loves me and who sent his son to die for me. That even though I don’t always understand His ways, He still has good plans for me. And that He has my children with him in Heaven and that I will be reunited with them one day.

Loving & Letting Go

I remember the moment I found out I was pregnant with Oli. In our apartment in Phoenix surrounded by boxes, just hours before we left on our next adventure across the country. I was so overwhelmed in that moment. Could it really be true? Were we going to have our miracle baby? Doctors had told us just a month before that we would probably never be able to have children and there it was that little test showing me that God had different plans.

As you know the next few months weren’t exactly smooth but after my issue with the blood clot, everything seemed to settle down. I watched my belly grow every week and looked in awe at every scan. It was really happening! I was going to have a baby. I remember the first time I felt him move. It was like he was tumbling inside of me. Every flutter, every kick reassured me that he was okay.

We had made it past the first trimester and were just days from finishing the second trimester when everything started to go wrong.  On Friday, October 25th I woke up feeling like I had been hit by a truck, just typical as this was my day off. I text my sister and told that I felt awful and she said she would be around to check on me in a few minutes. Within 10 minutes I was throwing up and we decided I just go and see the doctors. They took my blood and said that I had the Nora virus and sent me on my way with some anti-nausea tablets. Over the weekend I started to feel a little better but I couldn’t get over this nagging feeling that this pain I was feeling in my back and side wasn’t right. So on Sunday morning my husband and I decided we should go to the ER just to be safe.

The ER we had to go to was over an hour away and as we drove the pain got steadily worse.  By the time we got to the ER I was crippled with pain. They took my blood and did an ultrasound of my liver and gall bladder and checked that the baby’s heartbeat sounded good. Then the doctor came in to explain what was happening. The next few moments changed my life forever. Even as he explained my diagnoses I had no idea what was about to unfold. I had HELLP syndrome, which is basically a severe form of preeclampsia where the red blood cells starting breaking down, the liver enzymes get elevated and your platelet count starts dropping. Basically, you are dying and the only way to save you is to deliver the baby.

The next few hours were a whirlwind of emotions and medical procedures as they transferred me to MUSC. As I lay in my hospital room with my mum and husband at my side, trying to take in all that was happening, I knew that the baby being born so early was risky but that he would also be in the best possible hands. The NICU at MUSC is one of the best in the country and as the doctor explained to me 90% of babies born at his age survived. 90% that a good statistic right?! Plus I didn’t have a choice I was dying and they had to deliver the baby.

The next thing I knew I was waking up back in my room next to an incubator with my tiny baby in it. There he was Oliver Philip Beresic the son I had waited and dreamed about for so long. They showed him to me for just a moment and then he was gone. I sent my husband with him so he wouldn’t be alone. The next 24 hours were awful as I had to recover in bed and I couldn’t see my baby. My husband and family kept assuring me that he was strong and he was doing really well. Finally, on Tuesday morning, I was well enough to see him. As they wheeled me into the NICU I remember thinking how surreal this all was. But then I saw him, my precious little Oli, all wired up but safe in his incubator. He was so tiny but I could tell he was strong. He had been breathing really well and all the nurses kept telling us how well he was doing. That afternoon I visited him again and they let me touch him. I placed my hand on his head and he sighed this deep breath like he knew his mum was there and that he was okay. It was such an amazing experience. Of course, I was worried about him all the time and I hated that he was so far away from me, a few hospital floors seem like a very long distance when its keeping you from your baby. But I kept trusting that he was in the best possible place and the medical staff kept saying how well he was doing.  I visited him every day. I would just sit there and talk to him and tell him how much I loved him. He looked so tiny in his incubator but he was strong and he kept fighting.

On Saturday morning I visited the NICU to do Kangaroo care with Oli. Kangaroo care is where they lay your baby on your chest skin to skin. There is evidence that it helps babies in the NICU get better faster. It has been shown to regulate the baby’s heart rate, improve breathing patterns and oxygen saturation levels. It was the most amazing experience. He was so tiny and he just lay there asleep for two hours on me. I talked to him and sang to him and slept. I was finally holding the baby I had longed for and dreamed about for so long. He was my son and was overwhelmed by how much I loved this tiny little person. He had only been born a few days but he had already stolen my heart.

Late Saturday night I woke up to my husband explaining that Oli’s health was deteriorating and the NICU doctors weren’t sure why.  During the past week, my husband had spent every waking hour with Oli and I could see in his eyes that he was concerned about our little boy. We called my parents and they gathered together our incredible extended family and started a 24hr prayer cover for Oli and me. Over the next 24 hours, my husband rarely left Oli’s side as he stood and prayed and fought for our son. The strength and determination he showed in those hours were truly incredible and as I lay in my hospital bed too weak to be up in the NICU but I knew that my baby was safe and covered in prayer.

Then on Sunday at 3:30 pm everything began to fall apart again and this time there was no coming back. I was sitting in my hospital room with my friend when the NICU nurses came rushing in and told me I had to come to the NICU now. I could tell by the look on their faces that something was dreadfully wrong. If I had had the strength to run I would have, nothing could get me to my son fast enough. As they wheeled me into the NICU there were 20 or so doctors stood around my precious son trying to keep him alive. My husband arrived moments later and as we sat there hoping & praying I watched the numbers on his screen plummet and I knew we were going to lose him.  In that moment I remembered what I had told myself all through my pregnancy which was that I trusted God with my child no matter what the outcome. I had to hold on to that even as I dreaded the worse.

After crashing for the 2nd time the doctor came over and explained that they only way they could keep alive was to continue the compression and that it was probably time to let him go. As we nodded in agreement the world fell from underneath me. They stopped what they were doing, took off all his wires and handed me our son as he took his final breaths. As I wept over him I couldn’t believe this was really happening. How could he be gone already? We hadn’t had enough time! But even as I held him and the tears flowed down my face I knew I had to let him go. In my heart, I gave back the baby I had longed for and prayed for and trusted him to be held by Jesus till I could see him again. Somehow I knew that if I tried to hold on to him it would end up destroying me. Just as I had trusted him to God every day of my pregnancy I had to do it one more time. Even as my heart broke I gave him back and held onto the hope of seeing him again.

For the next hour and a half we wept and held our son as our friends surrounded us with love & prayer. Then my parents and siblings arrived and the NICU nurse came to give him his final bath. I will never forget sitting in that room with my family weeping over my son as the nurse bathed him and we took photos of him for the last time. I kissed him goodbye and told him I loved him and then he was gone.

How could it be true? The baby we had longed for and dreamed about was gone so soon. Over the next few days, my mind was filled with questions and confusion. Why did this happen? Why didn’t God heal him? How much heartache does one person have to go through? Was I not supposed to be a mother? Was every child that I loved going to be taken away from me? And the most nagging of all – Could I really still trust a God who would let this happen?

Many of the questions I asked and pondered will never be answered. I will never know why God didn’t intervene and heal Oli but over the days and weeks following his death, I have come to know a few things.

Some days the pain is so overwhelming that I think it will swallow me up but I know the loving arms of my Heavenly Father hold me through the pain and never let me go. Other days the anger is so raw that I just want to scream and shout at the top of my voice but even then he just listens and never turns away.

Now more than ever I am aware of the battle we face every day for our lives and the lives of the people we love. It’s easy to forget that there is a ruler of this earth that wants nothing more than to destroy the people of God.  Our enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour and sadly sometimes we lose. I don’t know why we lost this battle and I probably never will but I do know that my God fights for me & my children every day. Maybe he fought to give me the time I had with Oli, the precious moments I will never forget. Maybe he fought to let me hold him and then said it was time to take him home. Though we lost this battle and the precious son we longed for I know that the victory is ultimately still ours.  Although this road is painful I can be sure that every loss is redeemed and that Oliver will be waiting for me when the final battle is won. I’m forever changed by Oli and I’m honored that I got to be his mum. I’m sure I will miss him every day and wish he was here with me but I’m thankful for the time we had with him and more than that I will be with him for eternity.

Right now my heart is broken but through the pain and through the tears I will choose to still believe in a Heavenly Father that loves me and knows the plans he has for me. Though I don’t always understand His ways or His timing I know one day I will see it all more clearly and until then I will put my hand in His and let him lead me.

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Oliver Philip Beresic

October 27th, 2013 – November 3rd, 2013 

We love you always!