Remembering.

As for our redeemer, the LORD Almighty is his name, the Holy One of Israel.

Isaiah 47:4

Sing praises to the Holy One in the presence of the Almighty, my sweet Baby Love. 

Alzheimers Walk

Sunday morning we walked a few miles for Alzheimer's.  Daniel's grandma has Alzheimer's.  He doesn't really like to talk about it because he has such special memories with his grandma and it just hurts too much.  He was home schooled until he was in high school (which I enjoy telling people.  I like to imagine him being that sweet boy, doing his school work and helping his mom, although I am certain he was a rat sometimes!) and he and his siblings took turns spending Sunday nights with his grand parents.  On the way to the walk, he was telling me all about his days with them-the way he used to stay up late to watch movies with his grandpa and play games with him when his grandma had hair appointments.  He told me how his grandma used to take him to Taco Bell for lunch and she'd always have one taco and a coffee (he ate more than this, I assure you). 
Sometimes I am so sad that we have to live in a fallen world.  I am sad that there is death.  I am sad that there is sickness.  I am sad that wives don't know their husbands, parents don't recognize their children, and grandparents don't know their grandchildren.  Why?  Why can't people just get old and physically stop working?  Why can't we keep our minds while everything else fails?  I just don't understand.  I don't understand why God created specific sicknesses and why he allows them to happen.  What glory does he find in them?  Goodness.  He finds goodness.  He promises he turns all things for good for those who love him.  I just can't see it now, but I know, one day, when we are all risen, we will see it.  I am thankful that, even though our world is fallen, God sent His Son to die for us so that we could spend eternity with him.  It will all make sense someday.

The walk is usually on Saturday, but it would have interfered with the Diabetes Walk this year, so they moved it to Sunday.  Which, for us, was great because we had a Junior Bible Quiz meet Saturday and wouldn't have been able to walk.  Our team raised $1125!  The Alzheimer's Association had lots of fun things to do before the walk started and several assisted living properties were there giving out freebies.  We ended up walking two miles and had such a great time hanging out with Daniel's Aunt, Uncle, Cousin, and her friend and sons.  It is sad that we can walk for things like this, but it helps to cope for sure.



Boy loves his grandma!

I look like a blimp!  Thank you, 4 shirts in 50 degree weather.



Stretches



Decorating flowers for the walk.  Orange meant general support of the cause.  You could carry a yellow flower if you were walking for someone you knew who has Alzheimer's and is still alive.  Purple flowers meant that you were walking for someone who had died- and one other color for people to carry if they had Alzheimer's.  Not hardly any of those.



Kim.  LOVE her!





"Purple" water for Alzheimer's.  It looked brown.  Use your own imagination on that one.

 

We made it!  Daniel with his Aunt and Uncle.





Champion!  Raised the most money on our team!



Blessed.  Love our grandma!

We Thought You'd be Here

So, October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Month.  Really, a month for this?  I had mixed feelings about it.  It's not like we can organize walks or 5K runs to promote awareness and raise funds for research and prevention.  I've always hated hearing this from well-wishers, but I guess "it just happens" and there is nothing we can do but remember and hurt.  Well, my baby didn't just happen.  We tried for a year to get that baby.  My baby didn't just happen to get stuck.  God wonderfully and fearfully made my sweet child and kept him tucked right where He wanted him so he could call him home.  Wives who lose their husbands are called widows.  Children who loses their parents are called orphans.  But we-the moms and dads who never get to hold their babies or have to say goodbye too soon- we get no name.  So, in a sense, I guess having our own month is, after all, a consolation prize at best.  The prize reserved for the losers that are pitied.  The prize no one wants, because it's a constant reminder that you didn't win.  Cool.

I decided this week I need to blog more.  I feel like the only thing I ever do is blog about how hard life is right now.  So true.  I guess this is just my safe place to grieve.  But, my life is more than that.  Waiting for what seems like forever for a baby you have never met is just excruciating.  Missing a baby you lost and never knew is confusing and deafening.  Through infertility, with its constant disappointment, and miscarriage, with its heart break, it feels like you are walking on glass.  The glass disappears but the wounds still bleed sometimes.  Yet, my heart is redeemed.  Even if it is a daily battle, I will live my life in reflection of what Christ did for me and the arms that hold us so tighly.

Life has gotten back to {somewhat} normal.  Fall and winter are my absolute favorite times of the year.  I was at Hobby Lobby this week and walked up and down all of the fall/Christmas aisles.  I touched everything.  I just love all things holiday.  Looking forward to pumpkin picking, family time at Thanksgiving, cooler weather, the way my husband looks in sweaters (agh, so good), Christmas, and our anniversary makes me almost forget the hurt of waiting.  When we first lost the baby, Daniel was worried about moving on and felt like doing so and getting better meant we had to forget our baby and leave him behind.  It felt like we were leaving him in a basket on someone's doorstep because we didn't want him.  Oh, how we wanted him.  I didn't really get it then.  I just wanted so badly to try for another baby as soon as possible.  But, now that we are really moving on, I know what that felt to him.  I have never known such bittersweet emotion.  I am glad we are moving on, and that, as time passes, the bad days are stretched further apart and we can love, laugh, and have joy.  But, at the same time, I know my belly isn't growing.  I know it's really over.  I feel like I have to forget it even happened.

We are happy for the most part.  We know God's plan is perfect and his timing is not a surprise to him.  Our marriage seems to get better and better every day.  I have read so much about how miscarriages and infertility strain many marriages, and I was so fearful of that.  I am such a terrible person, which means I can be such a terrible wife.  Daniel takes such tender care of me and I was so worried I wouldn't know how to care for him.  I have never wanted to love more than I have over the last few years. I am on my knees in thanksgiving for the answer to our prayer and desire to build a strong foundation for our family. 

Little things still get at us- baby Christmas stockings.  Knowing I would have been out of my first trimester last week.  Having to get my bridesmaid's dress for my sister's wedding taken in, having had it ordered bigger than needed, with extra length, to accomodate my pregnant belly.  Seeing weekly updates on Facebook of college friends who are due soon- or, even worse- 2 days after I would have been.  Funny to think God saw two precious children being formed at the exact same time, hidden in the womb, yet chose to bring one home to Him.  I just don't understand His ways- but that doesn't mean that they aren't good.  In fact, they are perfect.

He is perfect, but I am not.  It's a hard emotion to hold on to when a barren or empty-armed woman hears that someone else is pregnant or has a small baby.  Not one of us would ever wish this hurt on another person.  Not one of us would wish that person wasn't pregnant.  Not one of us would wish that mom would lose her baby, too, as if to make our pain hurt less (1 Kings 3:16-27 anyone?).  What's hard is thinking, "Why does she get to have a baby and I can't" and "What did I do wrong?"  I know the Lord doesn't necessarily work that way, but the questions are there and I can't make them go away or answer them.

I guess so much of the hurt comes with knowing what would have been.  We thought our baby would have been here by now.  We never thought we'd have to struggle with infertility.  We never thought we'd have to have an ectopic pregnancy. We never thought we'd have to wait even longer now.  Part of me feels like we waited forever to try and have baby.  Did we wait too long?  I have always wanted to be a mommy, but, honestly, early in our marriage I didn't feel like I was ready.  I didn't know how to be a good wife and didn't think I knew how to be a good mom then either.  I wasn't ready to share my husband with anyone else.  I wanted him all to myself.  Was God calling us to have babies then and we just were too sinful to hear it?  Has our time come and gone?

I heard on the radio yesterday morning a song by Wes King.  I have never heard of him- but I read he wrote it when he and his wife were struggling with infertility.  I was late to school because I couldn't see past my tears to drive.  I know it is from the point of view of a Dad, but Daniel would say every single word of this song.  I feel so badly that I have to make this man wait to be a Daddy- but, I know that he will be such a good one when we do have a baby.  In fact, the best there can be. I wouldn't say this song is one of those hit songs I want to listen to over and over again (and I actually just really love the melody), but it's just one that says everything on your mind.  Enjoy.

We thought you'd be here by now
Your mother and I
We're praying through our tears that somehow
We might hear your sweet cry
Have we waited too long
It's getting harder to be strong
Is there something we've done wrong

But if you like dancing
I'll make it rain rhythm, and rhyme, and melodies, child
And if you like dreaming
Your mother will make your imagination run wild
Somehow, we thought you'd be here by now

We have a room just for you upstairs
It's right down the hall
So we'll be close should you ever get scared
We'll come when you call
It's a room full of stories
Waiting to be told
Longing to behold

And if you like laughing
I'll paint you a circus of smiles and ferris wheels, dear
And if you like living
Your mother will fly you to worlds both far and near

Somehow...

I never knew the silence could make me so deaf
I never knew that I could miss someone I've never met
Miss someone I haven't met yet

We'll be waiting

But if you like dancing
I'll make it rain rhythm, and rhyme, and melodies, child
And if you like dreaming
Your mother will make your imagination run wild
Somehow, we thought you'd be here by now

October 15th is the official Day for Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Month and you're supposed to light a candle at 7pm local time and leave it burning for one hour- it's called the International Wave of Light.  The result is a continuous chain of light spanning the globe for a 24 hour period in honor and remembrance of the children who die during pregnancy or shortly after birth.  I suppose I'll light one.  I've got nothing to lose-it's already gone.
Gone, but redeemed.