When A Loss Becomes A Gain

Some days it's hard not to think about what we've lost.  I do wonder if it's possible to lose things that were never ours to begin with.  This question nags at me as the days pass quickly.  The more time that goes by the more time it is since I saw the baby alive, since I felt pregnant, since I was pregnant.  My energy has mostly returned to normal and I'm enjoying outings with the kids, cooking, cleaning, searching for our normal.  But really there's a void.  Another void.  Now would be the time the dr would take a stab at gender.  In a month or so we would know for sure.  We had discussed names, baptism dates, etc.  For me, when I find out I'm pregnant, the baby's whole life is laid out before me.  Those glorious moments when we first meet face to face, the first diaper change, smiles, steps, giggles.  Just like that they are there and just like that they are gone.  And normal is never the same again. 

So here we are traveling into a new month.  A month that I thought would bring relief of morning sickness but instead it's a month without the new life we loved.  Still, we have so much and I know it.  And we believe that our baby's soul is with Jesus.  So she's not gone forever.  Just for a while.  Jesse says each baby in heaven is more inspiration for us to keep striving to get there.  And spring means so much new life.  Flowers, baby animals (Augustine is counting the days until ducklings arrive in the pond near our house).  My broken heart will mend again in time.  Each loss illuminates the absolute miracle that our 12 children on earth truly are.  Each time I somehow love those kids more.  Each time I'm surprised that I can love them more because I didn't think it possible.  But God makes all things possible, right?  And He makes all things new.  Sometimes I think maybe I'll just lose my hope, give in to despair, let the darkness engulf me.  But in the end God shows up and drags me out of myself, wipes my eyes and reminds me of who I am.  I am a His through all the pain and loss and mourning.  He shows me that it's OK to be broken because He came to heal the broken.  I often think if you could look beneath my skin you would see so many cracks all glued together that it would be hard to tell what should go where. 

"Love to be real, it must cost—it must hurt—it must empty us of self."― Blessed Mother Teresa

Someone recently asked me after two miscarriages and the ordeal we had with Jesse - how did we carry on.  I answered casually "God's grace and all that".  But it's true.  It's all GRACE and in the end it's all JOY.  Even the sadness and perceived losses.  I look back on it all and see that what I think we have lost is really a gain.  We are able to unite ourselves to Him, to submit to His will and mean it when we say "Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven", to see the amazing beauty in daily life and everyday happenings.  Death and loss was never God's plan but here it is.  I choose not to get lost in it but to find the nugget of gain (no matter how small it may seem) and embrace all He has to teach me.  After all, life marches on whether we do or not.

 

Living Gratitude

We've had our gratitude jar for a few years now and I've had my gratitude journal but today I decided it was (past) time for the kids to do their own gratitude journals.  So five of the kids and I headed off to our favorite craft store (Hobby Lobby) in search of suitable gratitude journals.

Pope Francis came along to supervise.

After a relatively short amount of time and amazingly no tears each child picked out their favorite journal plus one for Frances who stayed home.

Yesterday I ran across THESE great printouts by Ann Vaskomp (who taught me all I needed to know about counting my blessings!!) so the kids started with those.  It didn't take long for them to have many gratitudes listed in their journals.

The sun was shining and the park was calling so we walked that way journals and all.  Josie listed many gratitudes in the wagon on the way to the park and all the girls kept taking breaks to write in their journals. 

 

We decided that from now on the kids will start their school day with their gratitude journals.  Something I wish I would have instilled years ago.  I want my children to know that even on the darkest days there is always, always, always something to be grateful for. 

{Good Friday}

4:50 a.m.  It's dark and cold.  The words from a Christian rock song are on repeat in my head "You make all things work together for my good."   I wonder, as I see my reflection looking 5 months pregnant and preparing to leave for yet another D and C, if that's actually true.  I putter around the quiet house a bit before heading out into what looks like snow in the air.

At the hospital it feels surreal.  We were just there a few months ago for another loss and then for Jesse's ordeal.  I'm sad and grateful at the same time.  All prayer requests tucked away in my head and heart but I can't speak, really.  Or fake joy.  Not today, not this time.  I keep thinking that it's not real but it is.  I'm there.  A nurse remembers us from last time.  It's an odd comfort but I'll take what I can get.  This time it takes three tries in three different spots and two nurses to get the IV in.  This time I don't feel peaceful but extreme anxiety even though I keep remembering St. Faustina, the Divine Mercy, and "Jesus, I trust in You". 

Last time I was asleep before I hit the operating room but not this time.  I'm awake as they belt down my legs and arms.  I'm in the shape of a cross.  I wonder if it's wrong to unite this minor suffering to Jesus on the cross.  Jesus being nailed to His cross, for me, for us, on this very day.  One of my godsons says this isn't Good Friday but "worst Friday" because Jesus is gone.  I have often thought the same.  Good Friday and Holy Saturday leave me feeling like I'm wandering alone searching for something, or rather, Someone.  Someone to talk to, to take away the pain, to love me just as I am in all my ugliness but Who loves me enough to nudge me forward toward beauty and light.  As an adult who has read a few things I know that Good Friday really *is* good.  Love poured out for us on a cross from a Man Who never committed a single sin can be nothing BUT good.  Still I get what Dylan is saying and I appreciate it for what it is.  What a sweet boy.

Then I'm asleep, then awake and in pain.  I didn't have pain before but today I have pain.  I have people around me, helping me.  Jesus has people (me) inflicting pain on Him.  I cry in sorrow and gratitude at that thought. 

I hear some people think Christians who say that God works all things together for good (Romans 8:28) are just grasping at any kind of comfort.  They ask what kind of God allows a mother's sorrow at the loss of her child, children to lose a parent, the Holocaust or a million other horrific tragedies that happen everyday.  I look back on my life and see it's the kind of God Who gave us free will so that we could freely love Him.  I don't think God wills evil but He does allow it.  When I was going through a particularly dark time in my life, finding out about decades of events that I hadn't been aware of I remember thinking "WHERE WERE YOU JESUS???".  Music speaks to me.  God knows this and I happened upon the Matt Maher song "You Were On the Cross".  That song was a game changer for me.  He was there, on the cross, through it all.  Dying for all that ugly sin that He never committed.  He was taking all the bad and making it good.  And deep in my heart I know He still does.  Even when babies die or terrorists attack or hearts break. 

In my journal I have pages of names and prayer requests.  I will continue to pray over that as the weeks and months pass.  I wonder if today is the last time I will ever be pregnant.  I will never be *done* being a mother, mothering others, my children.  I have dreams of becoming a nurse one day, maybe, if it's God's will.  But today I'm pondering all that has happened in the last 40 days.  On Ash Wednesday we found out about this baby and on Good Friday we said goodbye.  Surely there is a deeper meaning there that I can't see yet.  I'm sure He will reveal it to me in His time.  Until then I will patch up my heart as best I can and try to "Be still and know..." (Psalm 46:10)

A Joyful Mourning Heart

(This post is a piece of my heart and is written with full knowledge that I could live in much worse places with much worse circumstances.)

My eyes squint open and I think to myself "I'm still here".  Here as in on earth here.  I wasn't whisked away in the night to the arms of my Savior as I often wish to be.  The newly weaned toddler who has alternated between kicking Jesse and I all night is rubbing his fuzzy head in my face.  I gather my thoughts, do my early morning gratitudes, check my texts and prepare for the day.  Lent is nearly over.  It hasn't ended much better than Advent did.  More tears and another baby gone to be with Jesus.  This life is hard.  I remember a friend texted about how God doesn't promise us happiness in this world but only in the next.  A quote from a Saint.  It's true.  Happy seems to be the golden calf and the driver behind all sorts of unhealthy behaviors and addictions.  I remember that Joy is what I strive for.  In my sorrow and mourning I know I can still find joy. 

A few minutes later I step out of the shower and hear the sweetest voice "Brown Bear, brown bear what do you see?".  It's Cecilia (7) reading to Augustine one of his favorite books.  I marvel that maybe it's not so bad that I'm still here.  How many people get the chance to hear their children read to eachother?  Children who I taught to read and write and, most importantly, to love Jesus.  Next she reads about St. Patrick.  Augustine loses interest but I don't.  I'm enamored by the sound of her lovely voice.  15 minutes out of bed and I'm filled with a joyful heart.  A joyful, mourning heart. 

I tell Jesse about my morning and how maybe it's not so bad to be here.  I look back over my life and am reminded of that line in Peter Pan, "second star to the right and straight til morning".   I know Jesus is my second star to the right.  I have made a lot of wrong turns in my life but I hope if I just follow Him now, straight on til morning, I'll find the ultimate joy when my time has come to not be here anymore.  Until then I'll just keep moving forward.  Or trying.  Sometimes I get stuck.  Sometimes I ask why or how or when.  My domestic church fills me and drains me all at the same time.  I wonder when these early pregnancy symptoms, hunger, nausea, tiredness, will go away.  I wish to escape the reminders and discomfort because I know there isn't a rainbow after this storm.  I try to list my friends in need and offer it for them.  Minor sufferings, really, in the big scheme.  After all, this life hasn't been so bad to me.  I don't always get what I want, of course, but I always have what I need.  With that in mind I will give thanks to God in all circumstances.

"The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.  Blessed be the name of the Lord"

Job 1:21

(Now this is happiness AND joy)

 

(This photo was from Karol Josemaria's memorial that we were finally able to have on Saturday.  Looks like we will be heading that way again sometime soon.  Our newest baby who is now with Jesus will have the name Zelie after St Therese's mother)