The Baby I Wouldn’t Hold Had It Not Been For the Death of The One Before

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I’m now in my third trimester with our sweet little baby boy. I feel all his little kicks, squirms, and wiggles. He’s already showing differences with how he moves and responds to touch than my daughter, my first pregnancy. Our boy is much more squirmy than my daughter was, and is quite active at night (in fact, as I write, I’m also watching my belly move!). And, we’ve FINALLY begun getting the third bedroom set up for him. Now, you can see the floor, and the crib is in place. His clothes are mostly hung in the closet, although I still need to clear my own out… oops. Yes, I’m guilty of taking up part of three closets in the house. (Gotta rotate seasons!)

This morning I cried in the shower. I don’t know why my miscarriage hit me so hard. I was thinking about this sweet little boy in my womb, and then I began thinking about our angel baby Jordyn. I thought about how much I wish I knew him/her, what s/he would have looked like, what s/he would have felt like. Jordyn would be 6 months old by now.

As soon as the thoughts swelled inside my heart about holding and meeting my little Jordyn, I realized that had that longing come true, I wouldn’t be holding this little one this summer. Had it not been for the passing of Jordyn, this little man wouldn’t have been conceived and wouldn’t be making an appearance in the world. His genes would have passed by, never having formed into being. Life almost went on without him; and, yet, I know the moment I see him in a short three months, I won’t be able to imagine life without him.

Once I hold my son, could I really wish Jordyn here? Is it possible to wish for both babies at once, while knowing the reality is it would be one or the other? Absolutely.

I then wondered if Jordyn had been a boy or a girl. I imagined how much different life would have been had Jordyn been a girl and we had two girls instead of the girl and boy we will have now. We’d have a house FULL of ladies! Pinks, purples, dress up clothes, tea parties, nail painting, all things girly. I imagined how my daughter would be the big sissy and would probably play dolls with Jordyn, and, perhaps, as older girls, they’d go out, talk about dates, and perhaps even share clothes.

Now, we will be blessed with both a daughter and a son. There will be batman toys mixed in with Barbie, swords in a dress-up basket with tutus, and muddy tennis shoes laying beside little princess high heels. The bond they share will be just as sweet, but much different than what sisters share. How easily life could have taken another route!

I miss Jordyn. I wish I met Jordyn. On the other hand, I’m so happy to meet this one, and hold him in my arms. I wish for both babies. I both mourn and I celebrate. I can’t help but to feel the sacrifice that Jordyn made to bring this brother here into the world. Without that sacrifice, I’d never have known my son.

The Honest Truth: My Second Child, My Sweet Baby Boy

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In October we found out we were expecting, and on January 24th we got to see our squirmy little baby BOY on the ultrasound monitor. Making it to this ultrasound was extra special – for one because it’s the ultrasound we never made it to with Jordyn, but also because seeing my second baby on the monitor suddenly made things REALLY real. I’m going to be a mommy of TWO sweet little children, a girl and a boy!

I had never considered, TRULY considered, what it may be like to be a little family of four. As a lay beside my joyful, squirmy little daughter while reading her a book, I’ve teared up thinking about how this time with her, my undivided attention, is slowly coming to an end. I KNOW there will be so many joys to come, but with every stage of life, there is something sweet you must leave behind for more blessings to come. 

At night we always do “family hug” before she lays down for bed. My husband takes us in his arms while I hold my daughter and we all embrace. I think about my new little addition and where he will fit in this family hug. Will my daughter stand by my leg and I hold this little boy in my arms? Will I attempt to hold my daughter on one hip and this little boy on my other hip?

I smile when watching my daughter play — knowing that she will be such a sweet, caring little lady. I imagine her watching her little brother and wanting to help me take care of him. I imagine him smiling up at her, laughing at her little gestures.

Then, I wonder if my daughter will feel misplaced, forgotten, or ignored. I pray that she won’t. I pray that if she does it’s temporary. And I pray that I never get so consumed by bottles, diapers, baby cries, and sleepiness that I forget to love on my daughter too.

I also think about how I’m a full time working mom. Sometimes I allow the guilt to creep in, that perhaps I shouldn’t have a second child when I only have evenings with them, and weekends — but I know that thought only comes from lies from within of insecurities and silly things I’ve heard hinted by people who don’t understand.

I can’t wait to meet this sweet baby boy and have him in our family. I’m both anxious and joyous to think of the changes this will bring to our routine, our life, our experiences, and our family. What a beautiful blessing.

I’m ready for the dinosaurs, trains, swords, and Hot Wheels to mix in with the shopping cart, stuffed animals, gaudy jewelry, and dress up pink hats.

❤ Welcome to the family sweet baby boy. ❤

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Stay-At-Home Mama, Your Job is Invaluable

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Imagine with me a certain work environment:

You work seven days a week. Your boss, Boss B, calls you every morning at unpredictably early hours to wake you up with an urgent task. Once at work, Boss B stands over your desk as you type out his report, but as soon as you are about to finish what took an hour, he slams your computer shut and laughs. Then, he demands he needs it within the next 5 minutes. When you need to use the bathroom, Boss B follows you, listing off all the things he needs from you and recapping what you haven’t done yet. If you don’t pee fast enough, he starts counting, knocking on the door to the loud, demanding cadence of his voice. Oh and your colleagues? They critique you throughout the day, telling you what you could have done better and that they themselves can easily pull it all off. The day comes to a close, and you must drive him home. You must listen to his music on the way home, not yours. And, he never leaves your side. Also, did I mention you have zero sick leave? Notta. Zilch. Sorry my friend.

Sound like an exhausting job? Maybe now you understand the energy it takes to be a stay-at-home mom. It’s a 24/7 job that never ends and goes without breaks. You’re a cook, a psychologist, a maid, a recreational specialist, a teacher, a coach, a cheerleader, a motivational speaker, a nutritionist, a nurse, and at times a pirate or perhaps a firefighter, or even Elsa. Even vacations are with this tiny Boss B, and so is your lunch break. When nap time arrives, you only relax with part of your mind, the other part in expectation of when your child will awake.

In our society, the significance and energy of being stay-at-home mom often gets downplayed. In society that emphasizes name suffixes, awards, resumes, concrete accomplishments with a start and end date, academic and career achievements, we sweep under the rug the abstract: raising a generation how to be compassionate, how to love, how to think, how to serve. Unfortunately, sometimes stay-at-home moms begin to fall for this lie too, to feel they themselves are less valuable than the suit wearing woman, exchanging their computer of honor for a wipe to clean little red bottoms. 

From working mom to stay-at-home mom (or shall I just say from mom to mom), let me tell you, I SEE YOUR VALUE. And your value is unimaginable, and your job is one of the most physically, emotionally, and mentally demanding careers there are – and one of the most rewarding and beautiful.

You are raising generations. And, you are on the clock constantly: You are teaching a child to love unconditionally. You are teaching a child to think deeply. You are teaching a child compassion. You are teaching a child beauty in a world full of hate. And mama, you are raising GENERATIONS – your love will not only affect this little one, but your little one’s teachings will create ripples in the people he or she comes into contact with, and with the children they someday raise. And when you shut yourself in a closet to cry so no one sees, or when you hide in the bathroom to eat that last cookie, I want you to remember this: Your job has immense value, and I see it.

Your career may go unnoticed. Your achievements unrecognized and unnamed. Your paper resume may sit empty. You may be critiqued for every tiny decision you make. You may feel insignificant when you say “I’m a stay at home mom” – but NEVER feel the need to make an excuse as to why you chose this path. And NEVER accept the lie that you don’t contribute to this society simply because you don’t have some official title and business card.

Mama, you are immensely valuable, an unstoppable force of love, selflessness, steadfastness, and compassion. You are the spark that will someday ignite a flame. You are planting the seed that grows and matures into a forest. Never see yourself as less than this. Never.

To the Friend that Only Called When They Needed Something

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I love you.

I’ve heard so many people speak down about your type. The one that’s here for a season for assistance and then gone for a year. The one that only calls to ask a favor, but never calls to say “how are you?”

We all have seasons.

Some seasons are harder than other seasons. Sometimes, you need attention. Sometimes, you need to know you’ve been heard. Sometimes your current backlog of issues are so overwhelming that hearing about someone else’s may make your anxiety and depression crumble you to pieces. Sometimes you don’t have the confidence that you could help anyone, so you don’t ask. Sometimes you haven’t learned reciprocation. Sometimes, you don’t know how to communicate you care. Sometimes, you’re so extremely busy with work and kids and marriage and school that it’s difficult to fit one more thing in for a friend. Sometimes mental illness only allows you to reach out when it’s really bad. And, perhaps you called me because your closest friends wouldn’t listen, or ran from you when things got bad.

Call me.

You may not ask me “How are you?” although I’d love for you to. But, I’ll be here to listen either way. Because someday, that might be me on the other line — too overwhelmed and distracted by life to realize I never asked you how you were doing before I began crying on your shoulder.

You may not stick around for my season of need.

But I’ve learned a lot from you. I’ve learned how to be a listener. I’ve learned how to calm someone down. I’ve learned to be patient with you. I’ve learned that sometimes it doesn’t have to be about me. I’ve learned to say “No” when I can’t help you more. I’ve learned life from your eyes. I’ve learned that when I give you my time, it doesn’t mean I’m owed anything in return. I’ve learned how to love this moment because it means you trusted me enough to call.

Of course, I hope you stick around. I hope you call me just to ask how I’m doing. I hope that you’ll be there in my time of need, but perhaps that season is for another friend. And, that’s okay.

In the meantime, I’ll love you. In the meantime, I won’t demand anything in return. In the meantime, call me anyway.

Announcing early after a miscarriage

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SURPRISE!

That’s right! We are expecting baby number 2 in June 2017! 

Anyone who has followed our journey knows that we had a traumatic miscarriage earlier this year — a loss that was truly unexpected and sudden, happening days following our first ultrasound, where we witnessed our baby’s heartbeat healthily beating, a checkup that came with the diagnosis of “Looks perfect! Congratulations. See you back in a few weeks.” The week that followed our miscarriage was filled with confusion, worry, regret, grief, depression, and lack of knowledge. We passed baby naturally, and ended up burying our second child under a Japanese Maple Tree. We sought closure as we named our baby Jordyn, and found peace in the fact that our child never experienced earthly suffering, our baby WAS with us all along even if for a short time, and that our child was in the arms of the One that we would have wanted him to be in all along.

Today, we announce our 3rd pregnancy while at 7 weeks pregnant. Some people are surprised by an early announcement. Yes, I acknowledge that the unthinkable could happen again. I understand the risk I am taking.

But here’s the thing — I want to announce baby now, because I want time to celebrate the LIFE that I feel and know and am experiencing. Miscarriage shouldn’t be taboo: I think society NEEDS to understand how unfortunately often it happens, and recognize the suffering that families experience from such a loss. There’s strength in community, even in one filled with pain. There’s strength in knowing you aren’t alone. 

Whether or not my baby survives, baby is living right now, with a heart beating inside me. I don’t feel the need to “wait” to see if my child will be alive later when my child is alive now. 

In only announcing the death, I miss the journey (whether short or long) of fully celebrating this beautiful child’s life now. If I announce only death, I am the only one that truly experienced the joy of the life now. I would experience it alone, and only in death would there be community.

I take a risk. But, tonight, I celebrate the beginning of life.

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*NOTE: This post is NOT to shame those who wish to wait to announce their child. And, if you’ve experienced a miscarriage, I mourn with you and am truly sorry for your loss. There is NOTHING wrong with waiting or desiring privacy — or wanting to keep personal matters private, or keep mourning private. This is only my own personal reflection of why I wish to not wait, and how I wish to give other moms courage to announce and celebrate life, even when paralyzed by fear.

No Shave November, Beauty, and The Sterilized Inhuman ‘Womanly’ Appearance 


So back in college, I participated in no shave November. Yep, for real. I did. And, I won the contest for hairiest legs for women. 

I think some women couldn’t believe I did this… and couldn’t believe I appeased the entire men’s basketball team by giving in to their request for a close up during the game where we presented our legs at halftime. It was fabulous. Seriously – wish you were there.

Now listen, leg hair may not be attractive to our culture — but we are also a cultural overly obsessed with a woman’s perfectly sterile appearance: no body hair allowed, must have acne covered by makeup, must lose all body weight gained after a baby, must have perfect hair without fly aways or frizz, must have thigh gap, must never have sweat showing through clothes, nor odor should ever be smelt — it’s ridiculous really, and frankly inhuman. Our culture sees us as “less womanly” with these human features…

Perhaps I thought it was good to go the extreme to show women to be confident in what makes us human. We can’t live up to a magazine standard, and most days we just don’t have the time nor energy to put on makeup or shave our legs. (Perhaps we thought spending that time with our kid was more important!) And guess what? That’s okay. You’re beautiful. Your legs don’t define you. Your makeup doesn’t define you. Your hair doesn’t define you. Your body shape doesn’t define you. Your clothes don’t define you.

And women can be the worst to engage and perpetuate this false identity and markers of worth, degrading a woman for her appearance. Instead, start valuing the heart — and start talking about the heart. Stop complimenting what she’s wearing and compliment her smile, her humanity, her love, her intellect, her dedication. Because that’s what continues to grow beautiful with age. That’s what we need to recognize. Make her hold tight to that, not what time will steal away from her.

Lord, bless this mess . . .

 

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Here’s my view from where I’m writing this. There’s Chex on the coffee table (and floor) that my daughter more played with than ate. Books that she emptied off the bookshelf, dolls she strung out, a shopping cart she tipped over, a dirty high chair, her favorite bunny she must cuddle with, and more.

Typically in these moments, I put my daughter down to bed and then rush to tidy the house from the tidal wave of a two-year-old. I stress. I tell Tucker to help. I scrub. I get frustrated. Or, sometimes it relaxes me to place everything back in its perfect order. Sometimes I even fantasize about the times before children, with the house a beautiful serenity of peace, quiet, cleanliness, breakable decorations, and candles. Once everything is in order, I pause and soak in the serenity. Don’t we all? I mean it only lasts for a few hours…

Tonight though, I decided to stop. Sit. Stare. In the middle of the mess and chaos, tonight I see beauty and blessings. I see home. I see a place where my child plays and feels safe and secure. I see carpet that pads my child’s knees when she crawls on the ground pretending to be a cat. I see food left out, meaning my child was able to eat her fill and we were yet blessed with more. I see toys given by thoughtful relatives. Toys from birthday parties and baby showers – where we celebrated life, another year, and family. I see clothing folded in the chair, not yet put away – clean clothes that I am able to wash when needed in the comfort of my own home.

Instead of rushing to sanitize the chaos of life and place it within order, comfort, and control, tonight I pause. This mess means that I have abundance: of safety, of comfort, of entertainment, of food, of procreation, of family, of home. Being able to even HAVE a messy house, or a house to fuss about in general, means we are beyond rich.

And isn’t this just like LIFE? Right when we believe everything is out of order, we’ve lost control, we can’t find our way, we’re drowning in to-dos and should-dos, and we feel there’s no where to go to find peace, the veil is torn away in the middle of the storm to see its strength, beauty, and life giving water.

Lord, help me to see this mess for what it is instead of seeing it as a chore and a fuss. Help me to be able to sit in the chaos and feel warmth and beauty, giving thanks for my home, family, and life — beautiful messy life.

Lord, bless this mess.