Blessed Reminders

            My sister in law and I found out we were pregnant about a month apart, her with her first and me with my fourth.  

             I have been blessed to live near all of my husband’s family and we see each other at least weekly. This made for exciting times. My sister in law and I compared cravings and hormones. We made plans for our future children who we knew would be great buddies.  Of course, that all came to a tragic end when I miscarried half way through my pregnancy.

            I have heard a lot about women who after they have miscarried, they can no longer bear being around their pregnant friends. It is completely understandable watching a mother swell with a healthy growing baby, while all you can think about is your own empty womb-- it is so hard.

            Truth: I cried through my sister in law’s entire baby shower, excusing myself to the bathroom every few minutes to pull myself together. I didn’t want to trade places with her, I didn’t wish she wasn’t pregnant but it was just a reminder of what was lost.  It was slightly embarrassing but guess what? I am glad I went. I am glad I chose not to avoid my sister’s special day and got to be apart of watching her become a mother.  I think that she is glad I was there too.

            Another truth is that my sister in law and I have not always had the best relationship, we have butt heads more than once in the past.  However, God has used this experience to really change and grow our bond. I now consider her one of my dearest friends.  If I had chosen to push away, if I had allowed my grief to overshadow her joy I think it would be a different story and our entire family would probably be harmed from that.

            My nephew turned one a couple weeks ago. We watched him giggle as he opened presents and ate cake.  Watching him grow over the past year has been one of the sweetest blessings.  I held him the night he was born, I fed him a bottle when he was a few months old, I’ve watched him roll over, crawl, and just recently teeter around on his two feet.  Each time I see him my mind flashes to what could have been, I think of the two little boys who could’ve been playing next to each other. I must choose not to let my mind stay there, not to see my sweet nephew as a reminder of what God has taken away but as a reminder of what God has given.

             So if the holidays are looming over you as one painful social encounter after another, go easy on yourself.  I am not suggesting you sit around and talk nursery décor with your pregnant friends, but if you can take the chance not to neglect some of the relationships you’ve been given you might find that God has orchestrated this. He may be using this to help you and heal you. That future child might always serve as a reminder of the life you once carried but in the end you might find yourself thankful for that reminder.  

Magdalena

The Lord blessed us with a healthy, beautiful little girl on August 4^th.  From the moment I first held her I was overcome with awe at what a miracle life is.

I would like to share her name with you and what a special meaning it has.  A few weeks before we lost our son my husband came across a series of letters by Martin Luther that he wrote before and shortly after his thirteen-year-old daughter passed away.  This brought much discussion between us about how painful it would be lose a child. We had no idea that God was using Luther’s example to prepare us for what was to come

"The Death of Magdalena"

 “The beloved child, Magdalena, is sick. Her portrait, painted by Cranach, is seen still in the room where she was lying, a lovely child, with large eyes, clear and deep. Near the bed is now Luther, he prays: "I love her a lot, but good God, if your will is to take her, I will give her to you with great pleasure. Then, addressing her: My little Magdalena, my little girl, soon you will not be with me, will you be happy without your father? The tired child tenderly and softly answered: Yes, dear father, as God wants. Soon, we put her in the coffin. Luther looked Ah! Sweet Lenchen, he says, you will rise again and you will shine like a star, yes, like the sun! I am happy in the spirit, but my earthly form is very sad. You have learned, he wrote to Justus Jonas: I believe the report has reached you that my dearest daughter Magdalena has been reborn into Christ's eternal kingdom. I and my wife should joyfully give thanks for such a felicitous departure and blessed end by which Magdalena escaped the power of the flesh, the world, the Turk and the devil; yet the force of our natural love is so great that we are unable to do this without crying and grieving in our hearts, or even without experiencing death ourselves. The features, the words and the movements of the living and dying daughter remain deeply engraved in our hearts. Even the death of Christ... is unable to take this all away as it should. You, therefore, give thanks to God in our stead. For indeed God did a great work of grace when he glorified our flesh in this way. Magdalena had (as you know) a mild and lovely disposition and was loved by all... God grant me and all my loved ones and all my friends such a death - or rather such a life.” (Source)

Although we did not get to enjoy our son for thirteen years, the description of Luther’s pain displayed how we felt.  The truth that someone who was famous for his bold and strong faith could feel so greatly the sting of death then certainly, it was not because our lack of faith that we felt such pain.

The day we found out we were expecting a little girl my husband told me that he would like to name her Magdalena. The name also means tower. She will always remind us of her brother, I will always remember the painful road that brought her to us, but more than that I want to remember that God has “been my refuge, a strong tower against the enemy.” (Psalm 61:3) Our sweet little Maggie is a living display of God’s grace and mercy, not in just giving her to us but also in sustaining us through the earthly pain of the death of our son who just as Luther’s Magdalena “has been reborn into Christ’s eternal Kingdom”—and that is the truth we cling to.

Pregnancy after Loss

         For the last two months or so, my house has been a bustle of activity, there has been some remodeling, painting, scrubbing, more painting, organizing, re-organizing, re-arranging, clearing out, setting up. You see, I am about 37 weeks pregnant and almost every waking moment has been consumed with the preparation of my little girl’s arrival.

             Last summer my life did not look this way, it was surrounded by a darkness that I thought would never lift. That gave way slowly to the desire to bear another child, and then to the disappointment in not conceiving.  Then finally with joy and much fear the realization that we were expecting again. My little girl, who at this very moment I can feel squirm in my womb, what an incredible blessing, I cannot wait to have her here in my arms.

            Being pregnant after a loss has been nothing less than a roller coaster of emotion, the anticipation of the first kicks, the sweet relief when they finally came, and the sheer panic of not feeling them often enough. It has been a daily lesson of trusting in the Lord and realizing once again my lack of control. At this moment my body is giving life to my daughter but it is not sustaining it—the Lord is.

            When I found out I was pregnant it was just a few short weeks after what would have been my due date with my son. The first thing I realized was that my grief did not vanish, I was not somehow healed by the promise of another baby. I don’t think I consciously expected to be, but somewhere deep inside I thought it would right everything in my world. Instead I was faced with an onslaught of emotions I really didn’t know what to do with, the instant love for the new child and the profound and deep sadness of moving farther away from my son. I wanted to be excited, but didn’t want to forget our son; I didn’t want others to forget him either. I also did not want to allow myself to get too excited about the new baby, knowing that God could choose to take her as well.

            When a loved one is dies, people often put unrealistic expectations on themselves about how they should act and when, sometimes feeling guilty for allowing themselves to be happy. I have not been immune to this struggle, the truth is I can simultaneously miss and grieve our son and look forward with joy and excitement at the arrival of our daughter.  Sometimes it is not so easy to accept blessings; sometimes my heart is clouded in pessimism and I can’t see a pleasant future. The Lord wrote our season of sadness and now it seems that he is bringing us into a season of joy- we should celebrate that without the expectation of tragedy.

            Last year the Lord took our son away, this year he has given us a new little girl. He has not changed, he does not love us more now than he did then, and we did not pass some sort of test. He would be the same merciful and gracious God if he had chosen to never give us another child again or if He chose to take another one away.

“The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” Job 1:21

David's Hope- Then and Now

It has been an eventful year.  We "officially" had our kick-off early in 2015.  We were in the beginning stages with just a vision and some ideas on how to make things happen.  Now, a little over a year later, so much has changed...  So we wanted to take a few moments and tell you about where we were, and where we are now.

My husband and I used to be very active in the pro-life movement.  But in 2008, things began to change.  It was the fall of that year that we suffered our first miscarriage.  This was a very difficult and trying time for us; it would be followed up 18 months later with a second miscarriage.  Through this process we began to see some things we never had realized.  We learned how frequent pregnancy loss occurs- 1 in 4 pregnancies to be exact.  We realized how many families are affected by this tragedy- and how much silence there is on the issue.

Silence because there is very little offered to help those who suffer the loss of a child through miscarriage.

We heard personal stories of loss, hurt, anger, pain- many that had not been shared before.  We heard voices of frustration, hearts that had suffered- yet were unsure how to deal with the grief presented them.  Because we had been there too- our hearts hurt with familiarity and empathy.  It was through these stories, and much prayer, that the vision for David's Hope was born.

A need for outreach to families who have been through pregnancy loss was shown to us, and we became determined- through God's guidance- to do our best to address that need.  We began doing research, study, and building a plan to reach out to others, and at what we felt was the right time, we launched David's Hope.

We started off with the idea of reaching out to local families by offering naming and memorial services, certificates of life, and memory boxes.  But that quickly evolved into much more...

In the very beginning we put together, and mailed out a memory box to the daughter of a good friend.  We took some pictures of the box and posted them online in hopes to bring local awareness of what we were starting.  We did not expect what happened next...

Friends from out of state saw the pictures.  People we did not know found our facebook page and saw the pictures.  Before we knew it, what was intended to be a one time outreach for a friend blossomed into nationwide requests, from California to Maine, Washington to Florida- we have sent out over 100 memory boxes to more than 26 states, and still more requests regularly coming in!  Of course, we would not have been able to accomplish this without the many volunteers who have helped by donating finances, hand made baby blankets and other items.

Of course this is not all we have accomplished.  We have expanded from our home to an actual office, and as executive director, I took counseling classes and have obtained a license in lay counseling.  This has been helpful, as I have been able to meet and counsel women in the local area in a safe and intimate setting.

God has opened other doors for us in the past year- we have built relationships and partnerships with local crisis pregnancy centers, OB/GYN's, funeral homes, and are now reaching out to churches as well.  This has helped get the word out about the important work we are doing.  We also had the privilege of working with legislative PAC Idaho Chooses Life to help pass the Unborn Infant Dignity Act, which gives the parents who have suffered the loss of unborn children the right to a death certificate and the right to determine what happens to the child's remains.

As I said, a lot has happened in a year's time.  As I prepare this week to both send off a check to the IRS to complete our non-profit status, and to start Bereavement Doula classes, I am reminded of what God has done in such a short time.  I am excited for where God is taking us, apparently, in the near future.

In closing, I want to ask something of you.  We cannot do this alone- so I want to ask you to be a part of our team.  I ask for your prayers, both for the families we minister to, and for us at David's Hope.  We are still a very small operation when it concerns personnel- we have a small board of directors, trying to still work out the kinks as we grow much faster than expected.  So prayers for wisdom and guidance are greatly appreciated!  And financial support is greatly appreciated as well- everything we do, we offer at no charge to those we minister to.  Which means cost must be covered in other ways.

At the end of the day, we are so excited to see how things progress.  While we do not like the reality of sorrow, we understand also that it is a reality- and we are honored that God would choose to use us to minister to others.

A Note about Father's

From the moment a man finds out his wife is pregnant suddenly he is protecting her that much more, making sure she doesn’t lift anything too heavy, running out at 10 p.m. to get pistachio ice cream,--- and maybe pickles. He talks to his wife’s swollen belly, rubbing the baby he can’t yet feel, and certainly already falling in love.

So often in the case of miscarriage we focus on the mother and her loss, often forgetting the father or at least downplaying his grief. In a society that already views men’s emotions as a sign of weakness, as Christians we ought not to act this way.

People mistakenly think that if you bring up a sad subject it will make everyone sad and cause more pain. The opposite is true, for someone grieving a child the recognition of their child’s life and existence by family and friends is incredibly comforting. I promise you they are already thinking about their loss, they are already sad. Comforting them validates their emotions and allows them to grieve openly. It can make the difference between a day that they were just gritting their teeth to get through and a day where they felt the balm of kind words and the encouragement of fellow saints.

This Father’s Day if you know a father who has recently lost a child to miscarriage, give him the blessing of remembering his child. A simple asking, “how are you doing?” is enough.

 “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” Galatians 6:2

Scars, Sons, and a Puppy

          

        Scars come in all shapes and sizes; you have them on your knees from learning to ride a bike, on your hands from accidently touching the hot pan, or maybe on your abdomen from a surgery. 

When we are hurt or cut, our body instantly sends collagen to the wound and very inefficiently distributes it, leaving a lasting reminder of our gash. Our skin can be left weaker and more tender, over time and special care the scar tissue can be stretched and “remodeled” to function properly, but if the wound is reopened again the process begins again and you are left with a mess.

           My husband and I sat down together last week and he said carefully, “We can’t keep him, we just can’t give him what he needs.” Although I logically agreed, it felt as though my scars were being ripped open-- my heart hurt.     

We got the dog last summer, just a few months after losing our son.  I have two daughters and a five-year-old son, so a boy dog seemed fitting—in our minds, if my son could not have his brother at least he could have a dog.  We picked him out from a litter our friends had.  He was a little piece of excitement for us; his loyal loving eyes stole our hearts. We named him Rufio and he brought a lot of chaos, and a lot of fun to our household.

            
         Through a series of unfortunate events over the last few months, it became clear to us that our neighborhood was not the best environment for him and by keeping the dog we may just be prolonging our children’s and our own inevitable pain.  My father in law wisely shared his opinion with my husband, confirming what we already knew-it was the right thing to let him go, he would be better off somewhere else.

            Telling my five year old that we were getting rid of his dog was a terrible moment as a mother. Holding him as he cried I was reminded how deep some scars run, they can thread their way deep into your body where there is more damage than the eye can see.

             Our pup was like the collagen in our family trying desperately to help close a wound he could never heal. As a family we threw our energy and focus on the dog, allowing the chaos of having a puppy distract us from what we didn’t have. 

            Giving him away was a logical and planned decision, but it didn’t change the fact that we felt helpless.  We tried to tell ourselves that he was just a dog, but he wasn’t, his entire place in our family had so much more significance, it was our feeble attempt at bringing at least a playmate in for our son.  We felt our scars opening, exposing the mess underneath letting us know there is still much healing that needs to be done.
          Saying good bye to a dog would never be so hard except for the connection between the loss of our baby and Rufio. It was a reminder that we are forever changed, that the death of our baby boy has left us more tender, and more easily wounded. We are not stronger, we are that much more dependent on God's strength and His mercy to get us through this life. Thankfully He is merciful and willing to carry us through.