2007 v. 2008

Today was the first day that Niels, Daniel and I all attended church together. It was an emotional day in so many ways. First of all, we hadn't even been to church in weeks due to my bedrest. Our church family has been so wonderful, serving us with meals and cleaning. We were welcomed back and our little boy was oohed and ahhed over. As the service began, I thought of all God had brought us through in the last week, from fearing the end of my life to celebrating the beginning of Daniel's new life. And then, too, I couldn't ignore the fact that one year ago today, less than twenty-four hours before my in-laws arrived from Holland, we began grieving the loss of our second baby in three months. 

Holding my precious little boy and singing Christmas and worship songs, including my personal anthem, "How Great is Our God," our hearts are full of gratitude as we celebrate the birth of God's Son with our thirteen-day-old son.

Two Babies

For the last several months, Niels and I have had two things on our mind: getting pregnant and celebrating Christmas with Dutch Dad and Mom. Two babies. Our baby and the Christ child.

Niels and I know that good things come to those who wait. In fact, Niels' wedding band is engraved with the words, "worth the wait." Almost five months into our marriage, I am certain that Niels was worth every minute of the 35 years, six months, and 14 days I waited to marry him.

Because of our age, we talked about our desire to start our family sooner rather than later. We were thrilled to discover we were pregnant in early October, just 11 weeks after we were married. Our joy was short lived, when we miscarried at 5 1/2 weeks. Niels has been such rock to me in our grief, allowing me my sad days and helping me remember all our blessings. One thing he said that has really helped my mindset is the reminder that God has blessed us with so much this year--travel, finding each other, the financial means to pay for a wedding and two homes all year. He had to save something for next year.

As November turned to December, Niels reminded me of this again. We thought if we were pregnant in December, we would tell his parents by putting notes in their stockings. When my period came, I was disappointed for the missed opportunity. They live 6,000 miles away and we won't see them until next Christmas. This would be their only time to see me pregnant with their first grandchild, even if I wasn't showing yet. I was feeling tired and sick all week and felt bad for not being where I wanted to be with all the holiday planning. I wanted everything to be perfect for our first Christmas together.

Friday morning when I woke up, I was bleeding. We called my OB and they said to go to the ER. It was a busy day, so we ended up being there from 11:30 to almost 9. They were a little worried about my blood pressure, which was 104/45. They took some blood and came back to tell us we were pregnant. We were shocked, excited and nervous. We're 5 1/2 weeks, exactly where we were when we miscarried on October 15.

They discharged me with a diagnosis of either a threatened miscarriage or early ectopic pregnancy. I had orders of bedrest for two days when they would check my HCG levels again. For two days my mind raced with the hope of a Christmas baby after all, and fear that I would miscarry again. In the meantime, our radio played a constant stream of songs about another Christmas baby.

Sunday morning we headed to hospital for my blood test. We waited at the lab for the results. We prayed for a big number. The level should be doubling daily at this point in a healthy pregnancy. But, much to our dismay, the number went down and we were told the baby was not viable. We're devastated, again, but we are together, and because it is not ectopic, I am safe.

Niels parents had their own troubles. Weather and customs delays caused them to miss the last leg of their flight, so instead of arriving on the 23rd, they arrived on Christmas Eve. Unfortunately, their luggage has yet to arrive. But they are here and they are safe.

Last night we went to the Christmas Eve service. I was doing pretty well. The pain was tolerable for the moment, and I was able to focus on the service. But when we started singing songs about The Baby, I began to weep for our baby. Niels' mom leaned over, her own cheeks wet with tears, hugged me and said, "I'm so sorry." And after such loss, there really are no other words to say.

Losing two babies this year has changed my perspective of the Christmas story. I identify with Mary more than ever. And I understand the greatness of the Gift. I want so much to hold my babies. I want so much to nurture them in my womb. I want so much to hear their cries as they enter this world. I believe that all life is sacred, and so I celebrate the very short lives they lived.
God didn't give us the son we wanted for Christmas, but He gave us His Son. I wouldn't willingly give up my babies, but God gave up His Son, for the greater good, and the gift of That Baby is life that never ends.

sleep in heavenly peace, little ones

Just Ours

Niels and I just returned from one of our favorite places, the VV B&B in Grand Rapids, MI. We had planned to visit my old stomping grounds a few weeks ago, but attending a shower for one baby and the dedication of another was a little too much for me in the days following our miscarriage. So we rescheduled our fix for this weekend.

One of the things I miss about GR is the local radio station. On Saturday mornings, I would sleep in, dozing in and out of consciousness as I passively listened to the weekly recap of Focus on the Family. Niels and I both like to have a radio on as we sleep, so I adjusted the dial before we fell asleep on Friday night.

Our small group is studying "Sacred Pathways," based on the book by Gary Thomas. The general idea is that we all connect with God in different ways. For example, for some, being in nature draws them closer to God. For others, being outdoors draws them closer to bug bites and allergies. I've often joked that God speaks to me through sleep. Most of my book was written when I was awakened in the wee hours with an inspirational thought. I'd drag myself down the hall, type up my thoughts as they came, and trudged back to bed. The next morning, I'd read what I wrote as a reader, not the writer, in grateful amazement. I overcame countless blocks that way.

My mind has been whirling with lots of thoughts lately. Mostly due to my health. Applying for disability. Losing our baby. The biopsy on my right breast scheduled for tomorrow (Tuesday).

Saturday morning, God spoke to me through the radio recap. The first segment was on adoption, a way by which Niels and I are excited to expand our family when we become eligible. (Agencies rightly want to give newlyweds time to solidify the foundation of their marriage). The second segment was on divorce, obviously a topic close to my heart. And this segment brought me peace because I felt comforted that I had done what God called me to do, and now, as I focus on my health and marriage, God has raised up others to continue the ministry I was doing. The third segment was about a couple who lost their baby at six weeks, same as us.

Niels and I have talked a lot about grieving our little one. On one hand, we don't want to fixate on it, but we also want to be realistic about our loss. We wanted this baby. We're ready to have a baby. We love this baby. One of our good friends is due the week before we were. We're so happy for them, but it is difficult not to make comparisons as we visited with her this weekend. Grief is grief, and it always comes in stages. My friend's due date will be bittersweet. We know that, but we also love our friend enough that we'll find a way to celebrate in the midst of our sorrow, even though we don't know what that will look like yet.

I realized this weekend that my delayed immediate grief may be related to the fact that on the day I was miscarrying, the doctor found a lump in my right breast. I've had ultrasounds and mammograms and a surgical consult and so far, the doctor hasn't been able to rule out cancer. So tomorrow I'll have a biopsy done. It sounds wierd, but my baby and my breast lump are almost one in my mind. The same ultrasound technician looked for our baby and found none, and examined my breast and found a lump. We're optimistic that we'll have an all clear by this weekend, but there's a possibility that I may not. But getting that answer will make an end to the "miscarriage and cancer scare" segment of my life.

Niels and I think that if I hadn't been pregnant, we wouldn't have found the lump. If we wouldn't have found it, we wouldn't have had it checked out. It's a 6cm lump, so it's grown (growing?) pretty quickly. Maybe our baby sacrificed his life for ours. We'll never know for sure.

As I listened to the couple who lost their baby, I felt God tell me it was time to give our baby a name, to make him (or her) real, to have a way to talk about him as the person we hoped he would be, without having to say miscarriage or losing our baby. I woke Niels up and almost immediately we agreed on a name. Jo. Just Ours.

What Makes a Mother

Last night I was looking at a site for others who have experienced miscarriage and found this poem. Niels and I are doing pretty well emotionally, but this had us both in tears:

WHAT MAKES A MOTHER?

Written by Jennifer Wasik
In memory of Zachery Wasik.

I thought of you and closed my eyes
And prayed to God today
I asked "What makes a Mother?"
And I know I heard Him say.

"A Mother has a baby"
This we know is true
"But God, can you be a Mother,
When your baby's not with you?"

"Yes, you can," He replied
With confidence in His voice
"I give many women babies,
When they leave is not their choice.

Some I send for a lifetime,
And others for the day.
And some I send to feel your womb,
But there's no need to stay."

"I just don't understand this God
I want my baby to be here."
He took a deep breath and cleared His throat,
And then I saw the tear.

"I wish I could show you,
What your child is doing today.
If you could see your child's smile,
With all the other children and say...

'We go to Earth to learn our lessons,
Of love and life and fear.
My Mommy loved me oh so much,
I got to come straight here.

I feel so lucky to have a Mom,
Who had so much love for me.
I learned my lessons very quickly,
My Mommy set me free.

I miss my Mommy oh so much,
But I visit her every day.
When she goes to sleep,
On her pillow's where I lay

I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek,
And whisper in her ear.
Mommy don't be sad today,
I'm your baby and I'm here.'

"So you see my dear sweet ones,
your children are okay.
Your babies are born here in My home,
And this is where they'll stay.

They'll wait for you with Me,
Until your lesson's through.
And on the day that you come home
they'll be at the gates for you.

So now you see what makes a Mother,
It's the feeling in your heart
it's the love you had so much of
Right from the very start

Though some on earth may not realize,
you are a Mother.
Until their time is done.
They'll be up here with Me one day
and know that you are the best one!"