Heart of Mary

The Heart of Mary

Saturday will mark the one year anniversary of our sweet baby, Micah Lee, going to heaven instead of continue to grow inside me and being born here on earth.  One year.  I wonder what he would have looked like.  I wonder if she would be rolling over now, scooting, or starting to steal Jacob’s toys.  I wonder… I remember what it felt like when we found out that we would be expected another little one into the world, and remember the crushing devastation looking at that still, oh too still ultrasound screen.  The day after saying goodbye to our sweet baby we left to celebrate Christmas in Iowa with family. Memories flood back of a difficult Christmas, of tears that wouldn’t stop, of loved ones that wanted to be loving and supportive but didn’t always know how.   Well meaning people wishing Christmas joy that fell on a broken heart, well meaning pastors praying for expectant mothers making me want to run out of the church.   Last Christmas my heart could relate far more to Easter than Christmas.  I wonder how Mary felt as she was surrounded by loved ones after the death of her Son, did she feel alone?  Misunderstood?  Did the tears ever stop falling or could she even cry when she wanted to most?  Did people say things that were so hurtful although well intentioned.   The Jesus in the manger was hard to related to last year, but the Jesus on the Cross and that left the empty tomb, was the Jesus that I clung to.  A Jesus that wept with us.  A Jesus that gave us hope that our sweet baby was safe, and loved and we would see again some day.  Last year I felt that I was able to connect with the heart of Mary in a very different way than I ever had before at Christmas.

Tonight I lay awake, restless, full of excitement, nervous and anxious as we are on the eve of welcoming our sweet baby girl to this earth.  Again this Christmas I find my heart relating to the heart of Mary.  How anxious would she have been traveling such a distance so with child?  How uncomfortable was she on that long journey and how scared when she went into labor?  How much joy did she feel as she felt her baby boy kicking and stretching in her womb.  Tonight I am filled with anticipation, joy, peace, grace and wonder as we are on the eve of welcoming our second child to earth.  This Christmas it is the Jesus in the manger with whom I related.  A vulnerable child whose parents would do anything in the world to keep him safe.  A mother and father who were nervous, anxious, excited and in wonder.  It is in the vulnerability and humbleness of God that I take refuge.  But as we await the arrival of our sweet baby girl, we also embrace and remember our two sweet babies in heaven and their amazing big brother here on earth.  May we all year long continue to embrace these two hearts of Mary, these two sides of Jesus, and all that comes in between.  May we be willing to embrace the pain with the joy, the smiles with the tears, and reach out to those around us to support them in the midst of whatever they may be.

Community

We were not meant to live alone.  Cliche?  Yeah, probably.  But I believe it's true.  I do.  I don't think that God ever had in mind that we would live isolated lives that only intersect in superfilicious ways and that we would try to do life by ourselves.  Many of us don't live alone but in our own nuclear family with a spouse and children, but how often do our lives intersect with others in truly meaningful ways.  Where we can be real, vulnerable and carry one another's burdens.  I think we do in snippets and pieces, I hope that everyone is able to experience community to some degree and to challenge themselves to go deeper into those relationships.  Today, I am grateful for community and longing for more. 

I am grateful for an amazing husband and son, who give me so much joy, love and life everyday.  But, I am thankful that our little family can intersect with the lives of others.  With the lives of my brother's family.  That we can take turns "kidnapping" the 2 year-olds to let them share and enjoy life together while letting the parents have a bit of a break to clean, or sort or rest.  I am thankful for friends that I can call or text and share the joys and the sorrows, the good and the bad.  I am thankful for parents who are supportive and are only a call away.  But, I also long for deeper community, to deepen relationships with others.  I desire to be able to share the burdens and joys of others and to become a part of one another's lives, not just in passing but in a truly deep and connected way.  We would do life together.  We would do ministry together, still having our own identities as individuals and families but a community that relies and depends on one another.  I have no idea what that looks like, but we pray and we hope and we dream, and we try, even if it is in small ways to make that happen a little more everyday.  

Tired

Somedays I am just tired.  Tired of fighting to hold the pieces together.  Tired of putting on a smile.  Tired of it hurting, of not wanting it to hurt or of deciding whether or not it hurts.  Tired of constantly analyzing myself, my family and my life and comparing myself to others.  

Today was a tired day.  But a good day. 

Although it could have been a day consumed by tiredness and slept away, it was filled with little boys' laughter.  It was filled with the joy of two little boys seeing their best friend, of playing in snow, exploring a children's museum and playing with friends new and old.  It was filled with serious, quiet moment.  It was filled with restful moments, moments of laughter, moments of friendship.  Today was filled with the constant love and support of my amazing husband, who loves me unconditionally.  It was filled with silliness, a date, fun, laughter and yes, some tears.  

Somedays are tired days, but even within the tiredness, there is hope.  There is a sense of peace and that this too shall pass.  That even when I don't feel like I am enough or have enough to get through the day there are others standing, waiting ready to help carry me through, and most of all there is a God who holds my hand, cries with me, wipes my tears and helps me through... even on, or especially on the tired days. 

Sucker Punch

Sometimes I can see an emotional ambush coming.  I know that there is going to be something coming up that will be emotionally difficult and I can either avoid it all together or at least set myself up for success by providing myself with whatever structure will be helpful to navigate through it.  But then there are those others times, the sucker punches that I don't see coming.  The times that I didn't have a chance to prepare and something takes me completely off guard.  This week has had both.

I knew that Wednesday was going to be a hard day.  Ash Wednesday.  Ash Wednesday will always have an extra level of grief, sadness and holiness in our family's life.  It was on Ash Wednesday, 2012 that we found out that our second child, Rene Lynn, had died.  After two weeks of wondering, questioning, hoping and being scared to death we found out that our deepest fear had come true and that we had miscarried.  Ash Wednesday stands in my mind as the milestone (although it really started 2 weeks before) of a year that has turned life on its head.  A year full of moments of pure joy and the darkest, most despairing, lonely and sad days that I have ever had.  A year that brought the excitement of another pregnancy and the shattering reality of a second miscarriage.  A year of transition, fresh beginnings, endings, a little man who has been the sickest he has ever been in his little life and a year of exhaustion. 

Today was a sucker punch.  I didn't see it coming.  I wasn't able to be prepared for it and it has knocked the wind right out of me.  A dear loved one is expecting.  I want to be excited, I should be excited, in reality, I am very excited for them and their family.  But it hurts.  It hurts more than I expected it to.  When we go through grief and loss it can be painful in so many facets and have so many levels of complexity.  When we lost Rene what hurt the most was losing the symmetry with my brothers family and for their sweet little girl to not have the BFF that we had hoped for.  With Micah, one of the aspects that hurts the most is that Jacob doesn't get to be a big brother, not right now at least.  He loves babies.  At daycare.  Baby Abby.  At church. At the store, he loves them.  It is really hard for me to look at pictures of siblings.  So today broken my heart to see that sweet little boy so happy, so proud to be holding up a sign declaring he was going to be a big brother.  Not because I don't wish them the best.  Not because I wish them any ill and not because I am not happy and excited for them.  But I am sad.  I am sad that Jacob doesn't get to have that, that I can't give that to him.  And that, is hard. 

So for tonight, I get through the night.  I pray.  I cry.  I am angry and sad and I hold my sweet little man tight.  For tonight, I cry with my love and let him hold me in his arms while I weep.  Then we will pick up the pieces again, we will pray that the Holy Spirt will give us the glue to hold them together and we will face tomorrow as a new day.  Praying that we will have the strength to trust, hope and show God's love and maybe, just maybe be able to be there for someone else that is hurting and let them know they are not alone.

A year ago I started a blog.  I blogged faithfully for forty days.  I processed grief, hurt, pain, and hope.  We had a DNC with Micah the day before Christmas.  Went into a week and a half surrounded by family who was also hurting and loves us deeply but didn't always know how to best show us (and that is okay!)... to a crazy January and February.  When we found out we were expecting Micah I felt like I just had started to put the pieces back together from losing Rene and am so exhausted that I haven't been able to/willing to truly process/grieve and heal.  So, I turn back to blogging.  I turn back to writing to the great unknown.  Putting it out there for others to read if they like, praying that it might be used to help someone else, but writing as a form of prayer and a way to heal.  I dont' know what these 40 days will look like.  I dont' know if it will stop in 40 days or if it will continue on from here.  I don't know if it will only focus on miscarriage, but I don't think it will.  We have 3 children, but only one of them is here on earth with us, and he's amazing.  That is who we are, and that is what I think this blog is going to be about.  This is us.  Messy. Overwhelmed.  Floundering.  Successful.  Faithful.  Questioning.  Real.  Family.  A journey of gluing the pieces back together and the excitement to see the mosaic it will make.