20 Weeks

I've been filled with a quiet excitement.  I've wanted to shout aloud for all to hear: I'm pregnant!!  While this is true, there has also been a part of me that has wanted to harbor my gift, to keep it safe and quietly protected. Excitement and joy have filled my spirit, but everything about the last 4-5 months has been a time of sobriety. The new, amazing, I'm-pregnant bliss that I had with Scout, and with Grace, has been tempered greatly, and I've just not experienced that mountaintop, everything's-going-to-be-amazingly-wonderful attitude.  It's as though my innocence has simply been lost in that regard.  This tempering process, while very good and necessary, has also seemingly manifested little holes through which doubts and fears have entered.  Fear has been that unwelcome solicitor who simply refuses to leave my doorstep, providing me with an onslaught of extremely convincing arguments as to why I should buy in, and ultimately squelch any excitement that bubbles within.

I am 20 weeks and 5 days pregnant...not that I'm counting.  I am two days past where I was when we found out that we lost Grace.  Every step of this journey has been a cycle of tears, joy,worry, anxiety, tears, joy, worry, anxiety. Each appointment and ultrasound I've had has involved insomnia, night-time imaginings of an outcome that will surely result in pain and heartache, insanely heightened nerves accompanied by a crazy-fast heart beat that I'm convinced is audible to an outsider, a steady stream of prayers and pleas that offer rest and a soothing to my soul, followed by the moment-of-truth breath holding while the doppler searches for my baby's heartbeat...and ultimately, a sigh of relief and praise to my God that He is sustaining the little life that is growing within me.  He is knitting this baby together perfectly; this baby is healthy; this baby is His gift...to me, and I'm overcome with gratitude.

Today was the first appointment I've had where I've not gone through my fear cycle.  I didn't feel nervous or anxious.  I knew at the start of this pregnancy that the first 20 weeks would be challenging, which it absolutely was.  I also know, and have known, that I'm not guaranteed to hold this sweet baby, even by making it past this 20 week mark.  But making it to 20 weeks was such a huge emotional and mental milestone that I find myself strangely content, relieved, and at peace.  God has been so very faithful to calm my fears over, and over, and over.  And I somehow feel like He's given me the okay to relax, and to fully enjoy this little baby.  I feel her gentle movements throughout the day, and have been for a couple weeks now, which almost brings tears to my eyes each time. It feels like her movements are God's whisper to savor this time, to allow myself to enjoy her, and to really invest in her.

Thank you to our dear family and friends who have been so loving, supportive, and prayerful.  Thank you for crying out along with us for God's grace, protection, and sufficient love to surround our family. We have felt it all, and we are so incredibly grateful.  Please continue praying for our family, and for this baby girl.  We hope with all hopes that we get to hold her in our arms in early April.

With love,
Andrea

Summer's Bounty

By no means are we done, because, let's be honest: we never will deem it all complete.   We are, however, loving the slow evolution of our yard.  This has been the best year yet.  

The dahlias have, as always, been a joy, promising fresh bouquets by the day.  Our veggie and fruit yield has been...well...overwhelming.  Cucumbers and tomatoes, anyone?  I am sort of slacking, actually, in the canning/preserving department, and think it's high time to get my booty in gear. Thank goodness for tomorrows.

The mammoth sunflowers were some of our favorite early arrivals, which are now sort of sad, and incredibly weighed down.  Seriously, those things are insane in the membrane.  I'm convinced a single head weighs at least 15 pounds.

And one of our new favorite discoveries has been the "Kiss Me Over the Garden Gate"annual that we started from seed this spring.  The pink clusters were such a fun surprise!

Summer is wrapping up.  In fact, as I type, the wind is howling, and rain is threatening.  I know it has been a good summer when I actually welcome the heat's departure.  Thank you, summer, for your early arrival, your hot, hot days (well, I guess I could've done with a few less of those days where the inside of our house was over 90 degrees), and the blooms that brought me much joy these past several months.

Like I said, we are nowhere near "done."  But, people, we are getting somewhere!

The day before...

Today is the day I would have been tapping my foot, wondering when you were going to make your appearance, wondering why you insisted upon being late to the party like your sister.  Couldn't you come today, like you were supposed to?  Today is the day I hoped for, longed for, planned for.

I've reserved this date for you.

Today is a day I cry.

Today is a day I miss you.

Though we have already said goodbye, I say goodbye again.

Though it is time to leave this now-familiar place of sorrow, I will never depart from loving you, and missing you.

Sweet baby Grace...your mama loves you.

...

Thank you, my God, for your faithfulness.  Even in the darkest of places, there your love persists. Thank you for doing a new thing, for making a way...

"See, I am doing a new thing!  Now it springs up;
do you not perceive it?  I am making a way in the
desert and streams in the wasteland."
--Isaiah 43:19

TWO!  Scout and Hadley just celebrated their 2nd birthday, and were pretty happy about it.  Though they are still a bit unsure of how to answer the question, "How old are you?"  They waffle between answering, "Almost two" and "Almost two today." Hadley's got her finger counting worked out pretty well, which is something Scouty's still trying to wrap her brain around.  Scout still talks about her "Happy Birthday Party", and her favorite song at this point is "Happy Birthday."  We sing it most often to Pinkalicious these days, and second most often to baby Wy-Wy, her newest cousin, but we also manage to sing it to everyone in the family.  A lot.  Like, really. 

To say that I have a deep love for these two little peanuts is a severe understatement.  What were our lives like before they entered?  They fill our lives with immense joy...and entertainment.  While there are marked personality differences between Scout and Hads, their love and excitement for one another is the same, and incredibly heart-melting.  They are such sweet friends.

My heart continues to ache over the loss of our baby, but having my first precious baby to hold in my arms is the sweetest reward I could ask for.  I am filled with joy celebrating her beautiful and radiant life.

Life marches on... somehow.

5th Anniversary

Brett and I celebrated our 5th anniversary last weekend.  It was our second celebration done totally and completely right...stuffing our faces for an entire weekend.  I'm not sure we can go any other way now that we have tasted the forbidden fruit.  And DANG does it taste gee-double-oh-dee!  Last year we gallivanted about the City of Roses, where it all began.  This year we decided to try San Francisco on for size.  We left Scout with Nana and Papa on Thursday, drove to SF, and stayed there for three whole nights.  It was pretty fabulous.  Yes, we did miss Scout, and we did talk about her, but it was so fun being together, just the two of us.  We stayed out past 7 pm (gasp!), and we didn't worry about getting back for nap time, though there were certainly times when I could've really gone for a nap.  Eating is...such...hard...work.

We dropped our car off on Thursday, upon our arrival, and didn't drive it again until we left on Sunday morning.  We had such a lovely time aimlessly wandering about the city by foot.  We are no strangers to walking, and walking, and walking, as we did all the time while we lived in Portland.  I discovered pretty quickly that my feet are no longer accustomed to this.  Gone are the days of cruising around for miles and miles in my Chucks.  Long gone.  But it took a day to remember this.  Day one I was in my normal mint green boat shoes.  Day two, which was our actual anniversary, in an attempt to salvage my pinky toes, I definitely looked like Jerry Seinfeld by rocking my skinnies and tennis shoes.  H-O-T.  Comfort over cuteness is my newfound motto.  Perhaps it is a nod to my thirties?  Not sure. 

We spent a lot of time biking, too, once we got over our intimidation of the big city thing.  We are totally used to urban biking, Portland-style.  But SF is a step up from that, especially with the addition of all the blasted hills.  BUT we got the vote of confidence from our friends who live there full-time (pictured below), and decided to give it a go.  That was totally the way to do it.  We went joyriding along the Wiggle, through Golden Gate Park, along the Presidio to the base of the Golden Gate Bridge, made special trips to Bi-Rite Creamery--twice--and to Tartine--four times (shhhh), and, and, and.  We left each morning by 8 am, and didn't return until at least 10 pm.  It ruled.

Everywhere we ate was really good.  Standouts are Bi-Rite and Tartine (dessert/pastry places listed first, naturally) and Pizzeria Delfina (holy-housemade-sausage-amazingness).  

We ate at Mama's, which is a breakfast place that has a crazy-a$$ line, especially on weekends.  Yes, we were there on a Saturday.  With everyone and their mother...or their mama.  We had nothing but time on our hands, though, so we didn't mind waiting almost an hour (uh, yeah, we were there 30 min before it opened!!  Notice the line behind B.  There were at least 20 people ahead of us).  It was delicious.  I don't know that I'd wait an hour again, but it was good.  

I wished we hadn't gorged ourselves so hardcore at Mama's upon our arrival at the Farmer's Market, however.  The food there looked insane in the membrane.  Brett and I both found ourselves staring at plates of food that passed with our mouths open.  Even though we had JUST eaten like 5,000 calories worth of hollandaise sauce and Italian meats.  We did not--could not--eat anything else, but we wished we could have.  Next time.

We had a surprise meet-up with our dear friends Sam and Sharon, which was, as always, wonderful.

  We took a final selfie, which sort of documents the amazing sunny weather we had the whole time.

We got into a semi-heated argument (it's not all rainbows and butterflies, people), AND ended our trip on a lovely note.  What a wonderful, challenging, joyous, hilarious, profoundly beautiful five years it has been.   Thanks, San Francisco, for celebrating with us, and for treating us well.  We may not be fat, but we are happy.

A Free and Ready Favor

"That that which tears open our souls, those holes that splatter our sight, may actually become the thin, open places to see through the mess of this place to the heart-aching beauty beyond.  To Him.  To the God whom we endlessly crave."

One Thousand Gifts, Ann Voskamp

I've struggled to find goodness; in fact, there are days when none can be found.  I've sought to find color amidst the grayness of my sorrow, only to resolve that somedays color simply does not exist.  My heart has heaved and hurt.  The pressure of my sorrow has ached so deeply that pieces of my heart seem to have crumbled into a mess in the hollow of my soul.  And there I have sat with the crumblings, sorting through it all, sifting it numbly between my fingers.

Grace means favor--a free and ready favor.  I was given grace. And Grace.  And yet, at times I have felt that no favor has been extended to me, but rather a sacrifice has been required.   While sacrifice and favor do not seem the most inherently companionable, being that a sacrifice is a surrendering of something or someone, a forfeiture, a relinquishment, and favor is a kindness performed or a privilege--a token of love; somehow they have proven a compatible tag-team.

First came the sorrow, the sadness, the sacrifice.

Then came the grace, my Grace, my free and ready favor.

Through Grace, and because of her my soul has been torn open.  I have wanted to stitch it up tightly, bandage it and protect it.  But I haven't known how--divinity, perhaps.  Instead I have found myself sorting and sifting, overlooking the dark and vast valley of sadness and sorrow, tempted to dive in headfirst.  But it is through my sorrow, through the un-bandaged, un-repaired tear in my soul that I've instead caught blinding glimpses of that heart-aching beauty beyond.  I am led to my God, to His glory, His grace..His Grace.

God's free and ready favor to love and restore has been the result of the relinquishment, the forfeiture.  He offers the promise of life beyond, where within lies color, life, and vibrance in abundance.  Promise.  Hope.  Beauty.

Saying Something Even When There's Nothing to Say

"...You need everyone you know after a disaster, because there is not one right response.  It's what paralyzes people around the grief-stricken, of course, the idea that there are right things to say and wrong things and it's better to say nothing than something clumsy."
--An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination


Perhaps you are not aware of the pain associated with the loss of a child.  Perhaps you've never before known anyone to miscarry, or if you have, you haven't deemed it a big deal.  Let me tell you: it is a big deal.  It is a very big deal.  A beloved friend of mine miscarried toward the end of my pregnancy with Scout, and reflecting on my response, I am filled with regret.  Being on this side of a miscarriage I now see that I just did not get it.  I was very sad for her, but truth be told, I didn't know what to do.  I didn't know how long she would be grieving the loss of her baby, I didn't know what to say, I didn't climb down into the trenches with her.  I regret not being that kind of friend to her.  It was not due to a lack of love, for I love her dearly, but it was because I simply did not understand.  I am ever-grateful that she has been that climb-into-the-trenches-and-sit, even in silence, kind of friend to me.  Because of this experience, because of my sweet friend and other very beautiful souls I have a fresh understanding of compassion, support, and love.

You will meet more women who miscarry.  You just will.  I want to encourage you to reach out of your comfort zone, if it is required, and do something--say something...anything.  It is the words and the blessed actions of others that serve as fuel to the grief-stricken.  I realize that every person processes grief differently, so perhaps there are variations to the support one requires, but I would like to offer my opinion on the matter (it's my blog after all).  This is my attempt at un-silencing the sorrow of miscarriage, and giving you a little help and guidance as to what to do (or what not to do).  

Un-silencing the Sorrow of Miscarriage

1.  Say something--Even if you don't know what to say, even if you don't know the grief-stricken well, even if you are shy, or clumsy, or ??? SAY SOMETHING.  It can be as simple as, "I don't know what to say.  I'm so sorry you are going through this."  I cannot fully express to you how much I have clung to the words, sympathies, condolences of family, friends, acquaintances, strangers, alike.

• Call--If you feel like calling, do it.  Don't expect the grief-stricken to answer, and don't even expect a phone call back.  But don't be scared to call, to use your voice, to use your words...to cry if you must.  I received phone calls from friends who cried, and apologized for crying, but couldn't help it.  I so appreciated their calls, and their tears.  It was a message that they shared in my pain, and that their heart ached with mine. 
• Email/FB Message--It can be short and sweet, or long and labored over.  So long as the message is expressing sorrow and support, type away.
• Text--It takes mere seconds to send a text.  Seconds!  There's no excuse not to send a quick note that lets them know you're thinking of them.  Believe me, you are not interrupting, or bombarding, or being annoying.  Let them know that they are not far from your thoughts.
• Snail Mail--Pick up a pen and write a note, or send a card.  I'm telling you that all forms of communication are so, so, so welcome and needed.

What not to say: 

1. "Miscarriage is so common."
2. "You'll get pregnant again soon or someday." 
3. "I knew someone who had a miscarriage, and this is what happened..."
4. "Let me tell you MY story."I feel I must expound on this.  Your experience can certainly serve as encouragement, and create a kind of I've-been-through-it-too bond, so there's nothing inherently wrong with eventually sharing your story/experience.  What I do not recommend is immediately shifting the focus from them to everything that happened with you because it downplays what the grief-stricken is experiencing, and makes them feel as though their story and sadness is not as important as yours.

2.  Do something--You may be one that doesn't want to barge in on someone's space, which is a very good thing to consider, but this should not be a preventative from thoughtfulness.

1. Drop off flowers or plants (or have them delivered)--  Our house was filled with flowers that served as a reminder of life and color in an otherwise gray and sad existence; people brought plants to put in the garden; we were given a gift certificate to a local nursery, which we promptly used (it was so therapeutic just being in the garden); a sweet friend, and my step-mom, knowing of my love for dahlias, sent some along.  It all meant so very much to us.  
2. Deliver food--Food is good for the soul!  Go to the store and put together a little sampling of snacks, and drop it on their doorstep.  Bake some yummy sweet treat, and drop it by.  You can also see if they might be interested in receiving a meal, and coordinate (via text) how to get it to them.  If they are home when you go by, don't expect to stay long, as communication is...hard.  But don't be awkward!  Don't ignore why you're there, and don't pretend like the sadness isn't present--it is.  It's okay to talk about it, briefly. Some friends of mine didn't ask if I wanted a meal, but texted and asked if they could drop something off on my doorstep.  They were fully prepared to leave a couple meals in a cooler and everything.  It was such a kind and thoughtful gesture, and one that blessed me immensely.
3. ???--The sky is the limit, so long as the something that you're doing is a gentle reminder that you CARE.

3. Don't put the ball in their court-- While it is incredibly kind to tell them, "If I can do anything, let me know," chances are, they are not going to call you and tell you what they need.  They're most likely not going to ask you for a meal, or for snacks, or to go to the grocery.  Ask them specific things--"I am going to the store today.  Can I pick anything up for you?"  "I would love to watch your child any time.  Would that be helpful?  If so, what day?" Or just DO something for them without asking...so long as it's not a complete invasion of their much needed space.
4. Be real--Don't try to cheer them up, or put on a show.  Don't ignore or gloss over what is really happening right now.  Don't be awkward, don't be contrived (unless you really are awkward).  Be real.  Be exposed.  They are, after all, in their most raw, most exposed, most vulnerable state.  Be willing to open your heart to feel what they are feeling.
5. Keep your story-telling to a minimum--It's tricky, I recognize, figuring out what to talk about.  You don't want to make them keep talking about their feelings, and you don't want to keep them focusing on the sadness of it all, but I guarantee that most of your unrelated stories will sound like the grown-ups from Charlie Brown: "Wah-wah-wah-wah-wah-wahhhh."  It is okay to ask questions.  This is going back to #4--be real.  The truth is that they are in the midst of an all-consuming sadness.  It's okay to climb in with them and sit there.  Ask meaningful questions, and ask if it's okay to talk about it...or if they'd prefer otherwise.  They are most likely not going to start pouring out their heart to you without you asking questions.  This goes back to #3.  If the ball is in their court, they will probably just look at it, and continue staring off into the void of their sadness.
6. Cry--Don't be afraid to cry with the grief-stricken.  It serves as a reminder that they are not alone, and that they are not crazy for feeling what they feel.  I think that tears are a beautiful reflection of the soul, and a sensitive, caring and compassionate heart.
7.  Follow up--Your life moves on at normal speed (or turbo), but those who are in the thick of grief find themselves in a world that is madly spinning around them while their life is at a seeming stand-still.  After a week, or two weeks, or three, or four...or 52...they may seem to have returned to normal, but I assure you this is not the case.  Remain sensitive to the fact that recovering from a loss can take a LONG. TIME.  Check in.  Even if they don't open up to you and cry on your shoulder, check in, and see how their heart is...and let them know that you think of them (and their sweet baby).

I hope that you and your loved ones are spared the grief of losing a child, but I think it is important to be prepared to impact someone's life for good.  What a beautiful gift it is to have a sensitive heart, and to offer compassion and love.  I encourage you to be a friend who climbs into the trenches, and who loves constantly.

Thank you to our dear friends and family who have loved us well.  Thank you for the ways you have whispered and shouted your love.  We have needed you.  Thank you for the ways you have shared in our sorrows, have stood in the trenches, have shared the burden of our aching hearts.

Thank you to the brave ones who have reached out to me, and have offered love, encouragement, support, empathy, even though we had no relationship prior.  Thank you for opening your hearts to me, and recognizing the importance of...saying something.