Imagination vs Faith During the Holidays

The thought of Christmas coming up and the assuredness I felt about NOT doing Santa, followed up by the dentist giving me a letter to the "tooth fairy" as essentially an excuse for not having the teeth that he had gotten pulled that day at home with him, because they were much too "sick" to be picked up at home....well it all left me feeling a little discombobulated. It left me questioning if we were making him miss out on something so fun, and where the boundaries were for these make-believe icons.

I am writing this more for me to get my thoughts out, so bare with me. My thoughts on why not to do Santa are really quite simple. My mom was AWESOME at doing Santa. I really had no clue that he wasn't a real person until I was much older than most other kids. I remember the devastation that not only did the magic of Christmas not really exist in Santa, but also the tooth fairy and Easter bunny we fake. I felt lied to. Completely let down. Betrayed. I know it may sound silly to some people, but it really changed the way that I saw holidays. Growing up I did not believe in Jesus, or really know much about Him at all. What if I had? How can you explain to a little girl that is wrapped up and has complete and utter faith in you telling her that these fictional creatures are real, that you lied to her about them....but Jesus is the real deal?

Can you imagine the questioning that would have came about with my faith, if I had believed then? It makes my heart ache to just imagine. Is that what Jesus would want for our son?

I want Matthew to believe in miracles. Not magical beings.
I want Matthew to know that you should always choose the right thing, not just during the month of December.
I want Matthew to know that Jesus loves him unconditionally, and he doesn't reward pending on a "Naughty or Nice" list.
That we work for the things we have, a jolly old fat man doesn't make nice things for us in the North Pole....in spite of the fact that sometimes I wish it really did work that way.
I want him to be thankful and not feel entitled for whatever he gets. (Maybe that should be on another post...)
I want Matthew to know that Christmas is the celebration about Jesus's birthday, and that gifts to each other during this time are WONDERFUL and FUN but not what the season is about.

On the flip side, what do the holidays, or events like losing a tooth look like for a family that doesn't step into these traditions of fairy tales that society participates in? Do we lose the magic? Not setting out cookies and milk for Santa? Not getting excited for a quarter (or a dollar) due to losing a tooth? Not believing in the Easter Bunny bringing you baskets and hiding your eggs for a hunt? And how do we teach him delicately to not dash the dreams and beliefs of other children whose parents have allowed these beliefs? Do you see where I feel I am sitting? Right between a rock and a hard place. My heart feels grieved that we have to look at things like this. I almost wish some days I didn't feel that gentle pull (or hard tug) at my heart from God leading me in a different direction than mainstream...because mainstream is easier. But I have to make sure I am following God's will for our family, and not society's perception of how things should happen.

James says we have time, not to worry, because Matthew won't understand for quite some time. But there is this ache and this hunger to try to figure out the best way to honor God in the midst of all of this. I cannot judge and say that your way is wrong if you choose to believe in the magic of Santa at Christmas. Because I do believe there is a place for Santa. He is a fun idea, and an excellent conversation piece in my opinion. Children should be able to make-believe and have an imagination. I love holiday movies like The Santa Clause with Tim Allen (Classic), Elf, The Polar Express, and Rudolf. I look forward to watching them every year. Yet, I do have to say, I am MORE excited for Matthew to officially open the book "God Gave Us Christmas" and start a tradition of reading it to him every holiday season. It does an awesome job explaining that God gave us Christmas and is much easier to find than Santa. So there is a place for Santa..., just in what capacity of a role will he play? A leading role? Or a minor one. Someone that has a lead solo, or simply someone that sings in the chorus?

I do think it would be fun and I hope to one day play Santa for a needy family, having Matthew go shopping with us to pick out toys, dropping them off without them knowing who did it, showing them the love of Christ in the Christmas season with presents, food, and a letter of God's love for them....but this wouldn't lose it's fun after December was over. People are needy year round! And Joy isn't only present in December.

One thing is for certain, Santa will not be the reason for the season in our house hold. The reason for the season lies in Jesus Christ. A little babe that was born in a manger, fulfilling a huge story that began long ago by God, who was born so that later he could die to save us all from the sins of this life. And of God, who loved us all so much, that he allowed his one and only son to suffer in spite of his innocence. Just so we could have the ability to have a bridge allowing us to cross the gap to spending eternity in heaven with them, without strict regulations and legalism that had to be followed, as long as we accepted and confessed we believed in Him.

Faith will lead Matthew through his life time. The child-like beliefs of these fantasy items are not worth the questioning of Jesus in my opinion. Am I willing to chance the outcome and impact on his faith to enjoy the seemingly innocent, short years that he would believe full-heartedly in a magical man, or bunny, or fairy...? *Sigh*

Parenting choices are hard sometimes friends.

Late Night Ramblings

"When I speak up, I feel no better; if I say nothing, that doesn't help either. I feel worn down."

Job 16:6-7

"Lord, sustain me as you promised, that I may live (and the babies that you bless us with!)! 

Do not let my hope be crushed.

Psalms 119:116 NLT (emphasis added)

This Sunday my soul yearned to go to church to find my little place at Jesus' feet and worship him with fellow believers. Pour out my heart with songs of praise flowing from my lips. I just wanted to be with Jesus, at church. Outside of the house, with full intention to find healing for my heart.

Matthew didn't have his listening ears on. We were running late, James was exhausted from the emotions of the week, the hours he has been working, and his early morning attempt to go hunting....he was sleeping. The frustration built up in me as I was feeling like a crazy lady trying to get myself and this little squishy boy that is normally cute, but exceedingly more irritating in that present moment...yelling, "I running! I running!" as he slips out the door that I opened to let the dogs out, in his socks, across the wet yard.

It was that moment that curse words may have slipped from my mouth and asked myself, seriously, what is the point? We were going to be late. The frustration almost didn't seem worth it. And we could just go inside and watch whatever movie of Matthew's choice while I got housework done. It would make it seem more productive at least.

The point was that I needed to attend church. I know that may sound silly to some. But my soul yearned for it. I haven't yearned like that to go to church in a long time. In my brokenness it seems I always know who it is that I need to run to. (I wish that was the same for all of the good days)

James and I had been talking Saturday about this loss and how essentially he hates the pain that each loss causes. The emotional strife that it places on both of us, while we are forced to go forward with our usual day to day lives. We talked about choices that we could make for testing, and where we go from here. There is a lot of pressure that I feel to lose weight and get more healthy, so much of our infertility is carried by me that I just feel worn out some days. Because I am the infertile one...yes we are an infertile couple...but it is my stupid body that causes all of the issues that we have, and I am also the one that carries the biggest heart wanting to carry babies because the experience is so amazing. To me, all of this pain and heartache is worth the moment when we are able to experience another healthy pregnancy. I believe in my heart that God will bless us at least one more time. Maybe just one more time, but it will happen. I just don't know how many more losses God is going to allow us to wade through before he lets us out of this waiting room with a doctor that comes out with joy shinning from the face instead of sorrow to tell us bad news, once again.

Pregnancy is not a promise for a baby. Just as grief is not a cookie cutter experience for all. And joy isn't only found where rainbows and butterflies roam. Pregnancy is a miracle, a blessing, no matter how short of the life. Grief and Joy both have this amazing little dance in my life. Joy for Matthew, Grief over losing another one of his siblings. Joy over knowing this last little one was a girl, grief over wondering what she looks like, what her laugh would sound like... It's a daily dance my friends. It will get better, easier some days, but the grief never goes away. It isn't always a wailing thunderstorm trying to drown out the sun, eventually it turns into a little cloud in front of the sun, or a white little butterfly fluttering by on a beautiful breezy summer day.

My heart is all sorts of achy and sad. Most of the waterworks seem to spill out at night, after Matthew has fallen asleep and I look over at James sleeping peacefully. My two favorite men in this entire world. I think about how blessed I am to have them in my life, and how I wish I could give them so much more. Thoughts about our lost babies echo in my head, memories of heartaches past, years of tracking my cycle, loss after loss, after loss. The excitement I had after seeing a positive test this time when I found the Big Brother shirt I purchased in 3T the first time I found out I was pregnant this year, because surely if that pregnancy didn't end up a happy ending...one would by the time he was in a 3T. (He wears 3T shirts most days now). I think about all the work I have to do to lose weight, and how much I have been drowning my emotions in food and unhealthy crap. Of ways to approach my doctor to have her do the labs that I wish for. Ways for God to have his glory shown in the crappy situations we find ourselves in at the moment.

Because God is good, all of the time. I never Even if I sometimes doubt question it in the midst of the struggles of this life. He is enough. He is enough, even if we never have another healthy thriving pregnancy. He is enough in my brokenheartedness. He is enough in the darkness of night when sadness invades. He is enough. He is able to heal my heart, to turn my mourning into dancing. He will make something beautiful out of this pain. He hears our prayers and cries. He doesn't turn a deaf ear to me in the middle of the night, when tears start to wet my pillow. He is enough. He holds, at the same time, my babies in heaven, and the babies he has yet to bless us with. He is Alpha, Omega, Beginning, and End. He knows no time constraints. He is omnipresent and omnipotent. He knows the plans he has for me, for US as a family. He knows the hearts that will be added to our little family. He knows what it will take to have the family he has created and planned for us.

He is enough for my dreams, even when they seem daunting to most. He is enough.

So for now, I will cling to my dreams and promises that I have heard Him whisper to my heart and ignore the nay-sayers. I will once again start praying for a clear path for how and when our family is to grow. I will fervently and audaciously pray for another healthy pregnancy, while praying that God is kind and guards the hearts of our future children that will come our way through foster care. That he will bless them with resilient hearts, mind, and bodies. That they will choose Joy in the midst of hard times, and grow to love Jesus. That our family will show them love and safety as they have never known. And that God will heal their hearts and minds from whatever was in their pasts to bring them to us via the foster system. I will continue to pray for the opportunity to come to us to adopt internationally. I will continue to pray that our family will be the family that God wishes for us to be, and that it matches up with the desires of my heart.

I think that is enough rambling for tonight, my eyes are getting droopy, and the tears have subsided. I feel at peace. God is good. He is all that He has promised. And I can definitely find Joy in the midst of this suffering my heart is going through.

I Will Carry You

"It was good therapy for me to sit on my bed in silence and pour my heart out to the keyboard. I didn’t have to see the look in people’s eyes or watch them uncomfortably search for the right words when we both knew there just weren’t any."
Angie Smith -  I Will Carry You

I decided it was time for me to read this book with my heart achy from loss I figured the tears were going to fall anyways so I might as well help them to fall. I am only three chapters in and it has been administering to my soul.

Reminding me of the years of blogging my heart out in pain and agony as we tried for a little one of our own. Blogging because people face to face were sick of hearing our journey. Uncomfortable to see our pain.  Annoyed with bitter statements.  I was tired of the looks they would unknowingly give. I started to hear statements about if we one day had children of our own.

Guarding my heart from potential hurts, and getting much needed emotions off my chest,  I blogged to women I didn't know "in real life" who knew too well the path I was walking.  They became good friends. They became my sounding board. Numbers were exchanged. With many texts sent. One  friend even sent me a gift when we finally had Matthew.

I have been blessed by this journey of brokenness. Even though some days I feel like it is a curse. Because of it,  I am not afraid of uncomfortable conversations when others are in pain. I can minister to women the way many cannot.  I know the pain of infertility and loss and when taking to others when I say I understand,  I really do because I have walked the path feeling disheartened and wondering if my hope was really false hope.

The good thing is "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever." Hebrews 13:8 NLT He is the same Jesus as when I first discovered him. When I first fell in love with Him. The same Jesus present when James and I got married. When both of us were born.  The same Jesus the day we lost our first little one. The same as when we were diagnosed with infertility. The same Jesus as when we found out we were expecting Matthew. And the same Jesus as we said goodbye to Julianna. 

Jesus is the same in our joy. In our trials. In our brokenhearted moments. He is the same in our celebrations and our grieving. He carries me through. Just as I carry the short lives of our babies in my heart.

To my little ones, I will carry you in my heart. Until I meet you in heaven and can finally carry you in my arms.

Julianna Grace.

My heart broke a little bit more this month. This past Sunday night (11/30) I took a pregnancy test after a week of heartburn, knowing my period was due soon, and unexplainable exhaustion. Even without  holding my urine long it came up positive.

Tuesday I went for my first beta. 47. I already knew it was going to be a loss by that first number but before I got the results I let my hopes soar. I created two announcements to print after good labs to have a cute way to tell James and after our first ultrasound to be able to take photos with and put in Christmas cards.

I didn't guard my heart. I got excited. I prayed to see those tiny little fingers and toes. For Matthew to be a big brother. Hope soared.

And then crashed down. Next beta was 45.something and progesterone was 11. Yesterday's beta was 11.5 So tomorrow will be my last. I called in this weekend expecting with the horrible cramps I had that miscarriage #11 would start quick and fast. Wrong seems 40 days are the lengths of my miscarriages since having Matthew.

In the meantime between second and third beta I prayed hard and gave it to God for his will to be done. Grieving the loss of another nameless baby, something that has been daunting to me...8 babies of ours without names? It doesn't seem right.... Anyways, I prayed for tiny fingers and toes I will not get to see and hold. When goose bumps ran over me and I heard Julianna Grace. I thought to myself, what? And said the name out loud and once more was overcome by goosebumps and just the knowledge that God was speaking to me. We have a daughter that is with Jesus. And her name is Julianna Grace.

I don't know how to feel any more. Blessed because of the miracle of Matthew but hurting because this sucks. Only allowing myself to cry when others aren't around because I hate the pity I see in their eyes. The questions of why we keep trying. And those that brush it off, and don't ask if I am okay. My heart aches. But is healing, when I remember God's promise to me in the basement last Christmas season "I have done it once, I can do it again."

My plan? Start progessence plus by young living, a supplement/herb my friend recommended, and get immunology testing. I want to talk to my Dr about taking lovenox sooner after ovulation. I need to get serious about losing weight. I simply do not believe there is not another reason for every loss these past 2 years to be within 2 days of the same bench mark of pregnancy. There has to be something else at play in my crazy body.

To my little Julianna Grace -- I cannot wait to see your face my precious little baby. So thankful Jesus knew your name to tell me. It blessed my heart and brought a huge smile to my face as tears streamed down. I cannot wait to hold you and look into your eyes. I love you. Say hello to your big brother and sisters for me. Let them know how much I miss them and how treasured they truly are. Until we meet I will carry you in my heart.