Another year gone by

"Do not regret growing older; it is a privilege denied to many." - unknown

As yet another birthday approaches and the feelings of gloom and the ache of what still is not settle in, I force myself to try to focus on this statement.  But lately, I haven't been too successful.

There was the day a few weeks ago when I dragged my poor, sweet, patient husband to Hobby Lobby in search of these tiny baby feet shaped garden stones that someone else had shown me.  I had decided the day before (after two solid days of not being able to get a grip on my emotions) that I desperately wanted to have somewhere that I could go, sit, and feel sad, angry, hopeless, hopeful, wistful-- and to remember.  And so my husband had listened, as in between uncontrollable sobs I told him that I needed a place.  A place for my babies.

"You want to plant some flowers, Beck?  Get a bench maybe?"

"Yes -- sob sob sob-- I think-- sob sob sob-- that would be ---sob sob sob -- nice."

And so we now found ourselves scouring the aisles at Hobby Lobby, looking for the teeny tiny baby feet that I just couldn't imagine not having in my flower bed.  After about 20 minutes, we came to the conclusion that while they may have been in the store at one time, they were definitely gone now.

And.  True to form.  You guessed it.  I broke down in the middle of the Hobby Lobby aisle right in the midst of the garden gnomes and the Jesus music and everything.  And as Jesse tried to offer suggestions of calling the Avondale store and looking online, something on the bottom shelf caught my eye.  Jesse was probably mid sentence when without a word, I walked halfway down the aisle, knelt down, and began digging in the items on the bottom shelf.  He calmly followed me and watched as I pulled out a small statue-- intended to look like 3 mushrooms growing out of the grass, but each was covered in tiny flowers-- pink, blue, and yellow.

And just as quickly as my tears had stopped, they started again.  Unable to speak, my husband read my mind, as he often does, and said "You're crying because you like it?"  I nodded.  "because it's perfect?"  I nodded again.  "Okay well of course we are going to get it, but you have to carry it because it's covered in glitter."

Did I mention that I love this guy?

And so I've been working on my "spot for the babies" over the last couple weeks, and it's been cathartic and healing.  Perhaps one day I will have a real garden in a quiet place in the backyard far away from the destruct-o-puppies that currently reign, but until then, it will do just fine.

As of late, something like this little incident has happened about every other day.  There are always the new pregnancy announcements of dear friends and coworkers, the days where just the smallest thing reminds me of what has been lost, and the different anniversary dates that physically make my heart hurt.  Call them triggers, call them whatever you want-- they can come any time, anywhere, and without warning.  They do not discriminate against who I might be with or what my current responsibility or task might be.  And they can, without fail,

knock.  me.  down.    

But as I am reminded that yet another year has passed by, another "1" added to my age, I can't help but to struggle to find the Hope in it all.

Sometimes I wonder if all the happy endings are being used up on everyone else.

And as much as I know that that thought isn't a Biblical or Godly perspective, some days, it's just where I'm at.

This past December we found out some news, that while not a "deal-breaker" necessarily, has discouraged me greatly.  As it turns out, we aren't just facing my unexplained predisposition to recurrent pregnancy loss, but also another factor related to fertility.  To put it simply, I don't have as much time to have children as we originally thought.  You might be thinking "but you can obviously get pregnant, right?  So...does that really matter?"

From the few people that I've explained this to, the response that I've received more than once has been that exact sentiment.  While I am logical enough to recognize that that response comes from a genuine place to encourage and offer hope-- "yes, but you can get pregnant, so everything is going to be fine!  It's all going to be okay!  Let's eat some ice cream now!"-- and can appreciate that, it actually kind of hurts.  It makes me instantly feel invalidated and like my current grief journey, which includes a lot of fear about the future, isn't warranted or real.  Yes, I can get pregnant.  But up to this point, I can't have a baby.  And to be quite honest, what I want is not to be pregnant.  I'm terrified to be pregnant.  I dread seeing those two pink lines because I know that that means.  To me, two pink lines equal certain miscarriage.  Is that entirely logical?  Maybe not.  But that's been my experience.  3 times, that's been my experience.  What else am I supposed to go on?  I don't want to be pregnant.  I want to have a baby.  

And so, I will confess that while we are now seeing a specialist and taking some steps to treat this fertility factor, the inescapable sound that I hear in my mind is the relentless and pervading tick-tock, threatening to run out at any given moment, without warning, and before I've had my chance .................dramatic?  Perhaps.  And yet.  Once again, some days.  It's just where I'm at.

When I occasionally share my heart in this way, people have tried to offer their encouragement with "if it's meant to happen, it will" or "don't forget, God wants to give you the desires of your heart" or "don't worry, He doesn't give us more than we can handle."

I love each and every one of the people who have expressed these sentiments to me, but as I usually just nod and smile when they are offered in conversation, I'd like to take a brief moment here to express my thoughts on these statements.

First of all, absolutely none of this is about me or about Jesse.  It's not even really about the babies that we grieve or the future that we might fear.  It has always been and must always be about Christ's love for us and the ways in which His power can be evidenced in our lives.  As for "He doesn't give us more than we can handle", it's a really nice sentiment that paints a picture of a loving God who doesn't want to see us hurting-- but it's really only half of the true picture.  Nowhere in scripture does it say that He will not give us more in this life than we can handle.  Nowhere.  If we were not given more than we could handle in our own strength, then why in the world would we need a Saviour?  We would be just fine without Him.  And that's not how He created us-- He created us to need Him.  And the passage that states "Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart ( Ps. 37:4)"-- I really don't think that this is saying "if you want it, He'll give it to you"  That isn't the God that I know.  The God that I know, however, does have the power to change my heart to be more like His-- more selfless, compassionate, patient, kind-- and as I spend time with Him ("delighting" myself), my heart begins to be more like His, and thus, my desires will begin to mirror His.  He never promised me a happily ever after.  And he never promised me that even if what I wanted is a good thing (a new life a good thing!) and if I did everything that I was supposed to do in this life, that I would be rewarded with that thing that I want most.  He loves me too much for that.  See, these past couple of years have brought great sorrow to me and to my husband.  We have been down down down to the depths of the deep dark pit.  We have sat in the ER or the dr's office and time again had our hopes and our dreams crushed into smithereens right before our eyes.  We most definitely have been given more than we can handle.  Believe me-- I cannot handle this.      Spend 24 hours living with me and you'll see.  And without a doubt, the deepest desires of my momma heart remain unmet.

And yet.

In being given more than I can handle, I have realized and given into, my great need for Christ.  Forget "leaning" on Him in all of this-much like my pudgy fluffy German Shepherd Elliotte in the middle of a long and tired walk, I have quit, too exhausted to take one more step, and laid down right in the middle of the road.  Leaning on Him?  No.  I am being straight up carried by Him at this point.  And while carried, I experience the healing of His love as He patiently binds my wounds and works to heal my broken heart.

As for my unmet desires-- perhaps He will choose to meet them in the way that we are hoping for, asking for, praying for.  Or perhaps He won't.  Because there is always the chance that in knowing what is best for Jesse and for me, in knowing what the ending that will bring Him the most honor will look like, that He will, instead, change my desire.  That as I open myself up to letting Him make my heart look more like His, he will give me new desires, bigger and better than the ones I have now.  Does that scare me?  Uh.  Yeah.  I still want what I want.  But I also have to trust His heart.  He has proven Himself wayyyyyyyy too many times in my life for me to doubt Him now.  This is my God.  And I know Him.

And so--it would seem fitting that my husband has announced that we are escaping to the Happiest Place on Earth next week  in celebration of my big day.  I have no doubt that there might be a certain stroller or a specific mother/child moment that I will witness in a giant park geared toward kiddos that will trigger a few tears.  That will awaken yet another new desire in me-- to one day take my own kiddos to the Magic Kingdom-- and that that thought as sweet as it might be, might also be tinged with a little bit of pain.  But I also plan to take some time in the midst of Indiana Jones, a Dole Whip, pictures with Mickey, a sudden free fall, and clinging to Jesse while in the Haunted Mansion (yes, I'm still terrified of it, okay?!)  and reflect on these things that I do have--the promise of seeing my little ones again, the unconditional love of a Savior who loves me too much to give me everything that I want, to leave me how I am, or to leave me stranded and exhausted in the middle of the road and the crazy selfless love and kindness of a husband that I do not deserve.

31, I'm a little nervous and scared, but here I come.

We Remember You Update

Hello there! This is Karen, and I think this is like my second entry here! I don't often get to be the author on this blog (I need about 12 more hours in my day!!), so I am excited to be the one to update you on our very first We Remember You conference!

So much time, effort, thought, and love went into the planning of this event. We had such amazing support from volunteers who took on setting up, baking, decorating, and so much more. Becky, Rachel, and I cannot thank those people enough. We have felt so loved and so supported by your sacrifices to make this event a success! The decorations were beautiful, the food was delicious, the garden was precious, the crafts were amazing, the speakers were wonderful, and the women were blessed.

What a beautiful, beautiful day. I think pictures speak louder than words, so here are a few from the event...

We had a WONDERFUL turnout of about forty women, and each one had a unique and special story and reason for being there. I talked to women who were struggling to start their family, who had an abortion years ago, who lost one baby, two babies, five babies through miscarriage or stillbirth. There were women who's losses were four weeks ago and women who's losses were forty years ago. There were mothers, sisters, and friends of women who've struggled, who came simply to support them and learn more about how to love them through their grief. There were women of all ages and all walks of life, and it was truly an honor to be counted among them.

I personally was able to sit in on two workshops, and it was so amazing to listen to the stories, the encouragement, and the truth that was offered to these women from others who have walked the same road. I am so proud of each of the workshop facilitators who took such a huge risk at being vulnerable, real, and honest in sharing their stories and the lessons they've learned. I learned a lot myself!!!

Because each woman that attended has such a unique background and experience, I am sure that each woman walked away with something completely different. I can only speak to what I walked away with, and that is how incredibly strong we are, how incredibly special we are, to have been chosen to carry so much pain. Many times in my life, especially in the past couple of years, I have felt...almost cursed. As if I had been "pegged" by God, to be picked on and tested and asked to carry far more than I was capable of. I look at other people and wonder why they seem to have it so easy in this life. Why is it that some of us just seem to be "chosen" to be the Jobs of this world, and some of us seem to fly through life unscathed?

I have come to believe, though, that those of us who have been "chosen," have been plucked up by the hand of God himself, just as a beautiful flower you can't resist picking, and have been given the honor of experiencing a deeper and more intimate relationship with the Lord, because of the deep sorrow we have endured. As I sat among those women, I felt incredibly honored to be one of them, and I realized that I did not feel cursed, I felt chosen. I don't think a single one of us would have asked to be there, would have chosen this path for ourselves, but there we were. And we were together in our pain, together in our healing...just together. It was a pretty powerful thing.

There were a lot of wonderful things about this day, but I have to share with you the MOST wonderful thing, and that is that one of the women that came decided to accept Christ!!! That one decision, that one woman coming to the event and speaking with our mentors and deciding to accept the free gift of salvation and begin a relationship with Jesus, that makes all of it, and I do mean all of it, completely and totally worth it. 

From the event, we have also been contacted by several people who either attended or heard about our event, and Becky and I are busy trying to follow up with each of them and are so excited to see where all of it leads!

Thank you so much for your prayers and support in these past several months as we have launched this ministry and planned this event. We cannot wait to see what God does with it all. Each of us within Forget Me Not feel very strongly that God has big plans for this ministry! We hope you will continue to follow us along this journey and see where it takes us!!!

...Someone Doesn't Want this Event to Happen...

I walked down the driveway feeling encouraged.  Hopeful.  Like this could all really happen.  And yet.  And yet her final words to us were still ringing in the back of my mind.

"If you are going to do this, then you better be ready.  Because this is from the Lord and it will be used in huge ways if He continues to bless it.  And there is someone who will not want that to happen.  So be ready.  Because the enemy will do everything he can to stop you.  Be ready."

And that was July 11, 2013.  Nearly 8 months ago.  And this week, her warning rang true.

See, it's been a week.  No...it's been a week.  I will spare you all of the gory details, but to make some very long stories short-- I made some  mistakes at work (that nearly could have cost me my job--in fact, they really could have-), was left to clean up my own mess--  And then there was the nasty case of respiratory crud that hit (which is really not that unusual for this asthmatic), but hit in the mist of the work fiasco and nearly drove me to the ER on Thursday night.  We managed to avoid that, but I have been down and out for the last day and a half, dead to the world and unable to work on anything for the ministry or our fast approaching event.  And in the midst of it all, my mind has been plagued with overwhelming thoughts of worry, despair, and darkness.

Worry?  Despair?  Darkness?  These do not come from God.  These come from one place only.  And that is how I know

Someone does not want this event to happen.

Well all praise and thanks to God for carrying me (literally carrying me-- ever had one of those days/weeks/journeys where the evidence that He gently picked you up and carried you when you could no longer walk was just undeniable??!) through my work mess, giving me the strength  to face the office another full 3 days this week, and to make it through this illness while managing to avoid any major setbacks.  It all could have been a lot worse.  Much worse.

And guess what else I realized in all of this?  I have been handling a large part of the administrative responsibilities with this ministry and next Saturday's event--but I was MIA the majority of the week because of all that was going on and -- things kept on moving right along without me.  

Cuz guess what.  This ministry is going to move forward regardless of my involvement or what the enemy decides to throw in our way.  Because there is a need.  (4 boxes went out this week alone.)  A  need for wounded women to find hope and healing through Christ and His love.  And He isn't about to let anyone or anything to get in the way of that.  He's too big.  And He cares too much. 

One more time-- here is the kick off event info.  https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B9-zYE2WlmteRGRwamJxOUVWVmM/edit

And so.  Come rain or shine.  Regardless of whether all of our planned tiny details come together perfectly the way that we've planned or they don't.  This event is happening.  And there is a team of us who have been praying for you.  Praying that if your heart is hurting in this area, that you will come.  And that we will be able to encourage you.  To love you.  To show you that you're not alone.


Many are the plans in a person’s heart,

    but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.   Proverbs 19

We Remember You - A Day of Hope and Healing

You've seen our fliers.

You've watched our video.

http://vimeo.com/83794360

You've heard about our box ministry.

You've read our requests for help and prayer.

So what's this all about?

This is our dream.  This is our hope.  Our mission.

The first step was our box ministry.  Our vision was that through the church, any woman who knew of a friend, family member, neighbor, or perhaps even herself, in need of comfort and encouragement because of a miscarriage, late loss, stillbirth, or early infant loss could get a small box of comfort items and to her know that both she and her baby were remembered and loved.  And to date:

-50 total boxes are ready to go

-8 boxes have gone out

-1 box went to a family who just lost their baby boy on Christmas Eve

-2 of those boxes have gone to two different churches in Oklahoma--those two pastors are now planning to work with us to help them build their own FMN ministries at their churches

-many MANY conversations about FMN and thus about Jesus have transpired between those of us in the ministry and others--some of which have been perfect strangers (strange things can happen at the Jo-Anne's cut counter, ok?!)

And the second step is really what this post is all about. 

We Remember You is a day of healing for women affected by pregnancy loss, abortion, or infertility.   We invite you to attend this special seminar on Saturday, January 18th, 2014 in the Education Center at Palmcroft,  9am- 1pm with a light brunch beginning at 8:30 am.  If you are able, the suggested donation is $5.  Palmcroft is located at 15825 N. 35th Ave.

Click here for event flier

In exactly two weeks, we will be holding this, our first kickoff event.  This is likely the part you have seen us advertising whenever and wherever we can, but you're probably still asking yourself, "what is it??"

Want to know if this event is for you?  Or who you should consider inviting?  So here's the scoop.  This Saturday morning event is going to be run like a workshop.  In fact, here are some details that we haven't previously released:

Healing From Pregnancy Loss (Workshop 1)

This session will be directed toward women who have experienced any type of pregnancy loss including early miscarriage, late loss, stillbirth, and abortion.  Questions and topics discussed will include:

• Will I see my baby again?
• How do I deal with the emotions that follow loss for months and years to come?
• Why is God letting this happen to me?
• Why do other women get a healthy baby while I do not?
• If I had an abortion, does God forgive me and how do I deal with guilt and grief?  Will I see my baby again?
• If I had an abortion, how do I talk about that with other Christian women?  Won’t they look at me differently?

The Struggle of Infertility (Workshop 2)

This session will be directed toward women who have experienced or are experiencing difficulty in conceiving.  Questions and topics discussed will include:

• Why is God allowing this struggle in my life?
• Why do other women who get a baby while I don’t?
• If I take advantage of modern medicine to try and conceive, am I “playing God?”
• How do I maintain romance and connection with my husband in the midst of this journey?
• What does the Bible say about infertility?
• What does the Bible say about IVF and other options for conception?
• Why should I/shouldn’t I consider adoption?

Pregnancy, Parenting, and Maintaining a Godly Marriage in the Midst of Grief (Workshop 3)

This session will be directed toward women who are married and experiencing the stressors of pregnancy loss or infertility, women who might experience pregnancy again after loss, and women who are parenting other children through/after a loss.  Questions and topic discussed will include:

• How do I reconnect with my husband after loss?
• How do I reconnect with my husband during our infertility struggle?
• How do we find romance and hope in our marriage in the midst of grief?
• How do I deal with a husband who doesn't know how to be supportive of my loss and/or infertility?
• Does my husband grieve differently?  How?
• What are some practical ways that I can protect my marriage during this time?
• How do I deal with the paralyzing fear that comes with pregnancy after loss (or that comes after watching my friends experience losses?)  
• How do I explain my loss(es) to my other children?  

Supporting a Grieving Loved One (Workshop 4)

This session will be directed toward women who have walked the road of grief as a result of pregnancy loss or infertility with a family member or friend.  Questions and topics discussed will include:

• How can I show love to her during this time?
• What should I say?  What should I not say?
• How do I support her while I grieve the loss and/or unmet desire too (as grandmother, aunt, etc.)?
• How can I love a friend/family member who is hurting from abortion?
• What are some practical things that I can do to help?

Each woman in attendance will be able to choose 2 of the 4 workshops to attend.  Each of these workshops will be led by a pair of very brave women who will be sharing from their own personal life experiences in these areas.  It will be vulnerable and real.  

Think you want to attend but feel like maybe only one session is a good fit for you?  No problem.  While all of these workshops are going on, so will our "Memory Making" session.  This is an informal session in which any woman who attends will be able to make a small craft, like a bracelet, keychain, or Christmas ornament by which to remember their loved little one who is no longer with us.  We will also have the materials to make a beautiful little journal to take home if your struggle is more related to infertility, or if you are attending in support of another woman and wish to make something for her.  

And if the thought of putting together a craft project totally stresses you out (not everyone's favorite color is glitter!!), then we will have places where you can hang out, grab a bite to eat, and even a quiet room where you can go to think, pray, or talk with one of our trained mentors.

We will also be "planting" our Garden of Remembrance.  "What's that??" you ask.  Come join us and find out.  In fact, we can't wait to show you.  We think that it will be a beautiful visual representation of the little ones that we will meet again and of the countless who struggle to ever even conceive.  

We have tried very hard to make sure that there will be something for every woman who attends.

The bottom line we want to make sure that you understand about this event with which we have been bombarding your Facebook newsfeed as of late?

In order to attend this event it is not necessary to have personally had an experience with pregnancy loss, abortion, or infertility.  It is only necessary to have a desire to want to reach out and minister to other women who are hurting in these areas.  And if you're reading this post?  Then you already know one.

We will be announcing our plans for support groups, box packing parties and more at this event.  Please.  Come join us.  We would love to have you.  We hope that this is just the beginning.

Please let us know if you have any questions at all or would like more information or some fliers for your own distribution.

becky.forgetmenot@gmail.com
karen.forgetmenot@gmail.com

Thank you for reading this lengthy post and we hope to see you there.  

If you choose to come?  You will be amongst friends.  Friends who love you, support you, and understand the road you walk.  We don't want you to suffer in isolating silence anymore.

"I don't know how to tell you this, but I'm pregnant"

Sometimes it comes in an unexpected conversation.  Sometimes it comes at a big holiday or event.  Sometimes it comes in a phone call.  Sometimes it comes in a Facebook announcement to you and the whole world.  And sometimes it comes in a text message.  A very long.  Very stuttered.  Very merciful. Very kind.  And yet very painful text message.

"I don't know how to tell you this, but I'm pregnant."

She's nervous.  She's scared.  She's been dreading it.  She's been putting it off.

And she feels guilty.

And she shouldn't  She really shouldn't.  But she knows that there is absolutely zero way that she can share this huge, life-altering, joyous, inevitable news with you.

Without stabbing the deepest of daggers in your heart.

She knows that you've always been close.  She knows that you've always been there for her.  And she knows that you love her.  And yet.  And yet she wonders.

Will she hate me?  

And you have always been close.  And you have always been there for her.  And you do love her.  And you could never hate her.

But the part of your heart that jumps at the exciting, miraculous, divine new that you've just heard is overshadowed by the shattering of what's left of a heart that is drowning in sorrow, jealousy, and fear.

And never in your whole life have you ever wanted to feel something so badly.  To be able to grit your teeth, tell your emotions to shove it, and push through with smiles, laughter, and join in the excitement.  And so you try.  And you try.  And you try.  And every time.  You fail.  Because, no matter the size of the pep talk you give yourself, no matter the amount of analytic that was passed on to you by your oh so logical and wise engineer of a father, you absolutely cannot, will not succeed in harnessing the "mind over matter" mentality.

But there is no mind over matter when it comes to matters of the heart.

Because Christmas came and went, and your miracle did not come.  Because you are grieving, even still, loss upon loss upon loss.   Because your doctor has just given you news that stacks just one more odd against you.  Because you are facing the cost and anxiety of insanely expensive treatments and less than favorable odds.  Because your hope is deferred and your heart is sick.  Because you feel out of place with the people you have always felt comfortable with.  Because you are jealous.  Because you are sad.  Because there is no end in sight.  And because you are tired of being lapped by everyone else.  Again.  When you can't even get around the track once.

And as Max Lucado puts it in You'll Get Through This:
  "[You] fear that the depression will never lift, the yelling will never stop, the pain will never leave.  Here in the pits, surrounded by steep walls, we wonder, will this gray sky ever brighten?  This load ever lighten?  [You] feel stuck, trapped, locked in.  Predestined for failure.  Will [you] ever exit this pit?"

And those announcements are never easy to receive.

Even when they come from the women you love most in this world.

And you  may not be able to pull it together enough to send the congratulations they deserve.  Or to go to the showers.  Or to buy the little bunny pajamas that their little one would look ridiculously cute wearing.

But some day, you might.

Because as Max continues to point out, "[...] life in the pit stinks.  Yet for all its rottenness, doesn't the pit do this much?  It forces you to look upward.  Someone from up there must come down here and give you a hand.  God did for Joseph.  At the right time, in the right way, He will do the same for you."

And so today, I may not have the fortitude to gush out the "Congratulations!!!! <3 <3 <3" that she deserves.  And I may struggle and fight and claw and grapple to get my attitude to cooperate.  But last week?  Last week, I did something that I never would have guessed possible.  I attended and participated in a gender reveal party for one my dearest of friends.  With all of the family and the frosting filled cupcakes.  And the squeals.  And the cameras.  And the baby shower planning.

And I brought the bunny pajamas.

And it was.  One of the most bittersweet moments of my life.  There was no way that it would not be tinged with the sadness of my own loss and longing.  But for one night.  For one friend.  I looked upward and was given a Hand of strength, of mercy, and of gentleness,  to overcome.  To smile.  To celebrate.  And to be joyful for her miracle.  It doesn't sound like much.  But it was the most victorious of milestones for this grieving girl.

And the next announcement will come, just as it did today.  And it might be gentle, sensitive and kind.  And it might not.  And I will be glad.  But I will also feel the inevitable sting.  But I will try and try and try to show her the kindness and the joy that she deserves, though it will likely not be enough.  And so here and now.  You [all] know who you are-- let me just say.  I love you.  Do not, I repeat, do not allow my current calling to sorrow steal from your joy.  The enemy would love nothing more.  You can still love me (as I have no doubt that you do).  And you can still cry for my struggle, as many of you have told me that you do.  But do not.  Allow.  Your joy.  To be stolen.  I love you.  I may be distant for a time.  But darn it if when this season subsides, your little boy or girl won't have the cutest shoes in his or her closet.  Courtesy of Aunt Becky.

And in the meantime, I will try to remember this charge:

"This chapter in your life looks like rehab, smells like unemployment, sounds like a hospital, but ask the angels.  'Oh, she's in training.'
 God hasn't forgotten you.  Just the opposite.  He has chosen to train you.  The Hebrew verb for test comes from a word that means 'to take a keen look at, to look, to choose.'  Dismiss the notion that God does not see your struggle.  On the contrary, God is fully engaged.  He sees the needs of tomorrow and, accordingly, uses your circumstances to create the test of today.  
Does He not have the authority to do so?  He is the Potter; we are the clay.  He is the Shepherd; we are the sheep.  He is the Gardener; we are the branches.  He is the Teacher; we are the students.  Trust his training.  You'll get through this.
[And] compassion matters to God.  This is the time for service, not self-centeredness.  Cancel the pity party.  Love the people God brings to you."  (Max Lucado, You'll Get Through This)

From Our Greatest Sorrows

...6 hours, 20 minutes and counting.  

Just a little while longer and it will all be over again.  Until next year.  But I can't even think about that right now.  I just need to get through today.

No idea what I'm going to do to pass the time until Jess comes home, but I have to do something.  So I pick up my phone and end up talking with one of the only other people on the planet that I know will get it.  Who will listen without judging.  Who will offer not just a word of encouragement, but one steeped in experience.  Who will, without a doubt, understand.  

And in the midst of it all, I tell her I have to do something.  Really do something.  I will not survive any of this, if I do not do something.  

And so we began to dream.

I scrambled for a notebook because suddenly, the ideas began to come.  Not just one, or two, or three.  But a flood of jumbled names, places, projects, topics, books.  Who do we know?  Where can we do it?  What should we include?  And suddenly, page after page became filled with endless possibilities.  

But as we wound down our chat sometime later, I flipped through the pages and wondered.  Will we ever do this?  I've been here before.  I've had dreams and thoughts and hopes and desires to use my pain for something lasting.  Something bigger than me.  Will this time be different?  Will we really be able to turn this into something?  Will God decide that it's worth it?  Is this really what we're supposed to do?  

I never thought it would end up looking like this.

And so we began to plan.  We furiously wrote down our ideas before they slipped out of our brains as quickly as they had come.  And all the while, I wondered.  

What is all of this really going to be?

And so I retreat to my bedroom tonight in order to sit and get this out, not because my room provides the ultimate inspiration for the amateur blogging of this tired girl, cross-eyed from exhaustion.  But rather because downstairs, there really isn't anywhere to sit.

There isn't anywhere to sit because tonight, 6 months after that phone call, my couches and my dining room table are currently occupied by yards of ribbon, lace, and burlap, by 45 brown shoe-sized boxes, by stamps, tissue paper, candles, devotionals, flower seeds, and the tiniest crocheted booties that you've ever seen in your life.  There isn't anywhere to sit because

this is really happening.

And it's all just a little surreal.   

Because of what's been provided to us, because of the support, love, encouragement, work, and resources that have been given to us, 45 women deep in the valley of grief and isolation might feel just a little less lonely.  Just a little less like no one understands what they endure.  Just a little less like no one cares.  And just a little less like everyone but them has forgotten what was lost.  

Because of this.  Because of this, my heartache doesn't have to be where it ends.  It can't be.  

I refuse to let it be.

And maybe the next Mother's Day won't feel as bad.  Next year, I won't be 3 days fresh off of my second loss.  Maybe it will feel worse.  But whatever comes, I will keep doing something.  My broken heart will not be where it ends.

B:  "Maybe my babies keep dying so that I will have more time to do this."

K:  "Oh Becky, No.  I mean.  I know their loss will have a purpose, and you are creating purpose from their loss.  And you need to continue doing it.  But this is not what was ever supposed to happen.  God never wanted this for either of us.  But He knew we'd be ones to create meaning from sorrow.  Our greatest ministries are born out of our greatest sorrows."

Dear Nadia

As I stood in the baby section at Kohl's just a few hours ago, it only took a few minutes for me to realize that I was in over my head.  Everything began to blur and I knew that if I didn't make my choices and get out of there quick, I was going to find myself in the midst of a full on public meltdown.   I grabbed the closest rattle to add to my stack of onesies and made my way back to the main aisle,

much like a frantic swimmer close to running out of breath under water, I gasped for air 

and beelined for the closest cash register.  I knew this would be a challenge, but I didn't expect to affect me in such a deep and immediate way.  Perhaps it was this day, or perhaps it was the fact that I haven't been able to bring myself to walk through a baby section for the past 12 months.  Either way, it was clear that I had underestimated the emotional fortitude required for the task at hand.

A few hours before getting the spins in the Carter's section, Jesse and I were discussing ways in which we could honor our little ones over this holiday season.  In particular, I was desperate to find an activity to honor the daughter that we were supposed to be meeting

tomorrow, December 2nd.  

How does one commemorate such a day?  As I was painfully reminded, it's not like we had a place that we could go to lay flowers or place a teddy bear.  We didn't have a book of photos to look through or really any positive memories of her short existence.  We have been left with almost nothing.  I say almost because she is actually the only little one of which we ever got an ultrasound picture.  But it is tucked away in a special place for mine and Jesse's eyes only, and we both feel strongly about keeping it that way for now.  At any rate, we landed on the idea of choosing an Angel Tree child to buy gifts for each year in memory of our little girl who would have come to us so close to Christmas.  In fact, when at Walmart last night, I chose an Angel Tree card for a little 1 month old boy who is living in CPS's possession.  With tears in my eyes (as of the past few days, my eyes are just at a constant state of watering, so now I just go with it), I knew that he was the one and thought about how we would be buying this little one's gifts at the very age we would have been buying them for our own child.  As we continued to explore this idea today, we landed on the decision to, from this point on, support one Angel Tree child for each of our babies in heaven as the years go on, hopefully choosing children at the age that our children would have been.  Finally.  A way to keep their memories alive and to do something for someone else in their name.  I couldn't visit their graves and I couldn't look through their baby books,

but I could do that.  

As I sit and think of the "supposed to be's"  "could'ves" and "would'ves" that plague most of my thoughts on days like these, I also remember the journey that we took as a result of this little one.  From the moment we learned of her to the inconclusive ultrasounds that led to waiting and waiting and waiting to learn what the outcome would be.  Days of hope would crash down into days of despair.  And the next morning would bring another day of hope only to be smashed to smithereens in another day of devastation.  Until at about 9 weeks and after an entire day at Banner Thunderbird and a trip to the OR, the last flicker of hope was gone and we lost her.

There are, as you might imagine, many moments that transpired during that roller coaster of quiet madness that are not expounded upon here as just in this very minute I have chosen to leave some things to the memories of my husband and to me, out of respect for this most vulnerable and intimate of experiences.  Moments that can't really be described with words.  With that being said, on May 8, 2013 we said goodbye to our precious second little one and suffice it to say, that experience changed us forever.

Jesse felt pretty strongly that she was our little girl, and so after careful thinking we landed on a name for this little one-- Nadia Larrayne.  If we did our homework correctly, then her name bears the meaning of

Hopeful Sorrow.  

And as we received our second handmade baby quilt from my mom, ordered our second Forget Me Not made of stained glass to hang in our front window, and tucked our only photo of our little nugget into a safe place, we were most definitely living an existence that was cloaked in sorrow.  Not the kind that comes and goes when that great job passes you by or when you hear that sad story about a stranger in the news,

but that deep, pervading, gut-wrenching, ugly cry, sob yourself into hysteria  kind of sorrow.  

The kind where it feels like something inside of you has been most unnaturally and unfairly ripped from you and what's left is nothing but a bleeding, irreparable, gaping hole in your heart. And the days are dark and the smiles are few.  And yet, in the midst of it all, as ill-prepared as I may have been for what would come next, a short 5 months later, I still felt a sense of hope that this would not be the end of our story.  And in fact, it isn't even the end of little Nadia's story. Scripture is very clear that the concept of mortality does not apply to believers in Christ and to those who have not yet reached the age of accountability.  And so, our little pink Forget Me Not has not died, but rather is living in Eternity with Christ until the day that we see her again.  We are heartbroken that we did not get to meet her today as originally expected, but look forward with great hope that we will meet again.

Because in Christ, there is no death.

In closing...

Dearest little Nadia,  
First, we miss you.  Like crazy.  There are some days where you are all that we think about and other days where every tiny thing that I see or hear reminds me of you.  I realize that sounds a little nutty given the brevity of our time together here on earth, but in my mind, you are a whole person with likes and dislikes, a personality, and even a sense of humor.  I think you would have been the spunky one, giving your dad and even Juno a run for their money with your antics and your scheming.  I think you would have had my hair and your dad's eyes and I just know that you would have been the dose of stubbornness and mischief that both of your grandmas were waiting for ;-) <3 I think about what it would have been like to finally meet you and see your face, and how it would have felt to bring you home and show you our Christmas tree and your very first ornament from Auntie Rachel.  But don't you worry-- for as long as we are around, you will always have ornaments on the tree and guess what-- because of you, some little boy or girl will always get a Christmas present who may not have otherwise received one.  We will always think of you during this holiday season especially as you were going to be our most favorite present of all.  And when the hard days come, I will look at the flowers your daddy gave me when we lost you and I will snuggle the blanket that I made for you and listen to the lamb that Grandma brought for you as it plays "Jesus Loves Me".  And I will probably feel sad and I might even cry, but I will keep memories of you close by always and I will never ever forget you and will take comfort in knowing that this is not the end of your story, dearest little one.  

Love, Mom