Growing My Faith

I was reading a book this week, and it started out talking about a forest fire. How devastating and long lasting it can seem the effects are, until you look past all the charred pieces, the blackened areas....and see fresh underbrush or flowers sprouting up out of the ground. Like hope in a desolate place. That's what God seems to have always done for me. In tough times I seek him more than the days when things are going well. 

This chapter went on to talk about a Bible story that has been on my heart and mind a lot lately. The story of Lazarus. How fitting that it was my last post, I knew that it was God speaking to me. Right when I could feel my soul saying, "God it's me down here, do you remember me? I am starting to lose hope." And out of my book came hope, springing to life once again my faith and hope in God.

Tears flowed down my cheeks. This time it spoke about a different aspect of Lazarus' story.

I think of Mary and Martha and all the friend who'd gather at the tomb when Lazarus died. Their grief was more than they could bear. Their hope had been that the tragedy would be averted. They had, after all, sent for Jesus. They knew He could keep this horrible thing from happening. 

But He hadn't come. At least not in time. Death had marked their family -- robbed them of their loved one and betrayed their hope. Now there was nothing but cold stone and black stubs. Desolation and death were all they could see. And even when Jesus showed up, all they could say was "If you'd only been here..." 

They could see nothing but death and its finality. They didn't recognize the fact that Jesus causes life to sprout anew. They knew that they would all be together again someday. But right now that big stone across the tomb was more than they could contend with. It cancelled all other possibilites. It overwhelmed their hope. 

....He could have supernaturally moved the rock himself. He could have raised His hands and blasted it into a million pieces. He could have caused Lazarus to walk right through it. But  He didn't. Have you ever wondered why?

The Eyes of the Heart: Seeing God's Hand in the Everyday Moments of Life by Tracie Peterson 

John 11:38-44
Jesus, once more deeply moved, came to the tomb. It was a cave with a stove laid across the entrance. "Take away the stone," he said. 

"But Lord," said Martha, the sister of the dead man, "By this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days." 

Then Jesus said, "Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?"
So They took away the stone. Then Jesus looked up and said, "Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me."  

When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out!" The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face. Jesus said to them, "Take off the grave clothes and let him go."

I never wondered WHY it was that Jesus made them move the stone, did you? Go a step further than that, have you ever wondered what would have happened if they would have stood their ground and not opened up that tomb? What would have happened if they chose in that moment to not believe in what Jesus was asking them to do? What if they didn't open themselves up to the chance to see the glory of God unfolding in front of them? All they had to do was move the stone. Jesus was willing to do the rest.

If I sit here and say, "If only you had been here God..." will I miss the chance of God saying, "Get up and move that stone, Jessica. I'm here now, can't you see...this was my plan. Even if it pains me. Beauty will come from this. You will see my glory if you just believe."

It's easy to see the negative, the horrible bits left behind. The scars are ugly and the eradication complete. But what He showed me in my own life is that I'm not alone, and that I have only to believe and to act on that belief. To take away the stone so that I might see the glory of God.

Tracie Peterson

I must be willing to act on what I profess to believe, to believe in my heart 100% that God DOES have plans for me. Even when it isn't easy. Especially when it isn't easy.

Jeremiah 29:11-13
For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. In those days when you pray, I will listen. If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me.

Romans 8:28
And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.

I am pressing into God and His word to guide me. What stones are you needing to move? I know a few of mine. Making better choices with my heath -- both with exercise and with my diet, maybe this is indeed the "Stone" that needs to be moved for God to resurrect the brokenness of my womb. To allow hope to sprout into real life once more. Beauty from ashes. 

There is one other thing that I am trying to work on this week especially...choosing joy in spite of life feeling like it is getting in the way at times. Choosing not to grumble like the Israelites in the desert, I have been telling myself this verse today: 

Psalm 40:8
I take joy in doing your will, my God, for your instructions are written on my heart.

Honest, Open, Transparent (HOT)

This is going to be one of those HOT moments where, I am thankful no one is awake. The house is silent. It's just me and God. And I'm welcoming you in.

In to the messy beautiful life I call my own. The one that God has called me to  blessed me with.

The world seemed heavy today. I swear the air around me even was weighing me down. I turned to food instead of Christ. Maybe this is my confession, I don't know. I needed, wished, and craved for time with God. Instead, I got puked on by Matthew this morning and pressured this week into working on Sunday. I just wanted Jesus. And instead I got to pass pills, chat with residents and staff...and maybe be a light at my work? Maybe? It's the only thing that makes working Sunday maybe be worth it.

As we laid down in bed tonight, Matthew sleeping between us because some of his bedding from his pukey episode are dirty. Tears leaked flowed freely from my eyes. God has been whispering songs of hope to my soul this week. Speaking to me in the little daily devotional that I have been doing at inconsistent times daily this week. And I just needed time with Him. In the quiet.

Last Sunday we said good bye to another little baby. My heart broke once more. Mourning more silently than we have in quite some time. So tired of expressing more grief. More bad news to friends and family. So exhausted. Getting angry, frustrated, upset, disheartened, whatever it is you want to call it....I was there deep in grief. Wading through the emotions in the quiet.

Pressing into God in the quiet moments. Leaning on Him to carry me through these complex and overwhelming emotions and thoughts. Thinking about his majesty. His holiness, how MIGHTY He is. What a rock he has been during our struggles. And the promises found in His word.

I cannot find my prayer book, where I cry out to God on paper...so here it is. Even if it is a hot mess of emotions.

God, I am pressing into you. My soul longs for you. But so often I turn away, forgetting the path I have walked with you....until one more thing going wrong or sorrow threatens to fill up the empty space in my thoughts, heart, and soul. It seems that in sorrow your light seems the brightest. I don't run from it Lord. I know that you have great plans for me, and you don't promise for a journey that is pain free. You promise to never leave me or forsake me. You never leave me. You hold me up when I don't feel strong enough to stand. You allow tears to fall down my cheeks and you allowed even Jesus to weep. So I know that all tears are not bad. I am doing my best to be faithful, yet I feel like I fail you so many times. I run after you, but I stumble. I'm trying to get rid of everything that weighs me down....symbolically and literally. I'm turning back my focus back to doing my best to ready my body for the moment when I know that you will bless us once more, with a living thriving baby to fill my womb and our hearts. A miracle and testimony to your goodness, grace, and mercy. I might be called crazy, feel tormented like Hannah, or laughed at like Sarah....but I can hear and feel the whispers of hope calling to my soul. Even now.

That has been my cry lately. Like Martha after Lazarus had died, she said to Jesus, "Even now, I know that God will give you whatever you ask." (John 11:22). Even now. Even when others are willing to give up hope. Even NOW, in the midst of our 12th loss and heartbreaking moments...I love you. And I have faith that your will will be done, and the whispers of hope that my heart hears when I pray...I know it is You saying, your babies are safe with us in heaven, your struggle will be worth it, I am mighty, and you are right...I know the desires of your heart, and your story isn't over yet.

Reading the story of Lazarus, tears fell down.

John 11:32-37 

When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, "Lord if you had been here, my brother would not have died. 

When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weepy, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled.  

"Where have you laid him?" he asked.
"Come and see, Lord," they replied. 

Jesus wept. 

Then the Jews said, "See how he loved him!" 

But some of them said, "Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind have kept this man from dying?

Jesus weeps with me. He loves my babies as much  more than I could imagine. In the early months and years into our journey, I was one of the Jews in this story asking, "If he could save HER baby, why couldn't He have kept MY baby from dying?" Now, yes....Even now, I know that Jesus is weeping with me. Just as he is whispering promises and hope into my heart and soul, placing a healing balm on my open wounds.

John 11:38-44
Jesus, once more deeply moved, came to the tomb. It was a cave with a stove laid across the entrance. "Take away the stone," he said. 

"But Lord," said Martha, the sister of the dead man, "By this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days." 

Then Jesus said, "Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?"
So They took away the stone. Then Jesus looked up and said, "Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me."  

When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out!" The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face. Jesus said to them, "Take off the grave clothes and let him go."

 He could have saved Lazarus, but then were would this testimony be in the Bible? He could have saved our babies. Even now, I have hope he will save one more baby. Another hope is that James and I can walk as gracefully as possible through this mess of our life so we too can be a benefit for the people looking in on our lives, and that they too will grow to know that Jesus is the one who we find our source of hope and strength.

The tears have stopped falling, sleep is calling. And I'm not going to edit this post, so hopefully there are very few errors.

Big Brother

I'm not talking about the Big Brother watching us. Or even a happy pregnancy announcement. But rather that Big Brother T-shirt that stares at me in Matthew's closet. Some days I think about being brave and putting it on him. Because he is a Big Brother.

Not to babies here on this earth, but in heaven. This past Sunday we experienced our 12th miscarriage. I felt so empty and sad. I was supposed to work Sunday but James looked at me and told me he wished I could be by his side at church, that he felt we both needed it. So cramping and heartbroken to church we went. Finally deciding my head wouldn't have been focused enough to take care of my residents at work.

I am so tired of announcing another loss. It is exhausting.  Spending each pregnancy wishing for a happy outcome instead of a sad one. It is a roller coaster of emotions and as much as I hope and believe that my womb will experience another happy pregnancy...I hear the echoes and silent doubt pour in from others. Especially when I open up about another loss.

James and I have some tough conversations coming. How many losses will we go through before we give up hope? When we get to that point how hard will it be to close that door forever? My heart weeps thinking about that day and that choice.

The hurt, the pain,  it feels 100% worth it when I look at our sweet miracle. Loveable and adorable. When looking up things that cause recurrent pregnancy loss, or repeated implantation failure I discovered that if we indeed have autoimmune issues that flare up and cause the losses after 5 losses you have a 5% chance of a healthy pregnancy without treatment. Five Percent.

I believe Matthew was that 5%. Now what about after 12 losses? I don't even want to know the statistical number. Let alone know the number of women that have that many losses, and open their hearts up to others for each one.

I am hoping for answers and a new treatment plan. For determination to no longer have fat be part of my infertility. I don't know how much longer we will be on this path, or what our journey will continue to look like.

What I do know is that when people see and hear about our story there is no way they can NOT see the work of God. One day Matthew will be a big brother, my hope is through not only another baby in my womb but also babies grown in my heart through adoption. God is writing our story, I just have to rest in hope and believe that he has plans not to harm us but to give us hope and a future.

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.