Reflections in the Mirror

Prompted by St Francis

2008-07-29T16:21:00.001-05:00

The time has come to
live intentionally
Yesterday is
full of grace
I long for
my life to reflect my values
Now I want to
slow down
No excuses
to leave the present moment
My life
happens one day at a time
Tomorrow is
full of grace

Red hot pizza

2008-06-11T09:16:00.002-05:00

Last night I learned that spices really do alter the taste of food! I usually follow directions with spices, but sometimes I add a "touch" more -- probably in secret hopes that I will come up with some awesome recipe that everyone will love and ask for.

So I made homemade pizza last night. The recipe calls for a little bit of crushed red pepper, and I followed the instructions perfectly. But then I remembered that the last time I made pizza, Adam had said the dough was a little tasteless. So I thought, hey, I'll just add some spices to it. So I added some garlic powder, and onion salt, and... crushed red pepper. Lots of it.

Adam took one bite and had to get a drink of water immediately. He managed to eat 2 pieces, but downed 3 glasses of water in the process. And afterwards he said his lips were burning! Hmm. He can eat more spicy foods than me, so after watching him, I knew I was not going to get my nice pizza dinner last night. I picked at it here and there, and ended up eating a bowl of cereal instead :(

I had also planned on giving some of the pizza to Ivy, as I'm trying to give her the same foods that we eat, but after seeing Adam's reaction, I opted not to!

Despite the spicy-ness of the pizza, Adam said he wanted to save the rest of it. So, it's in our fridge. Anyone want some red hot pizza?

My other baby

2008-05-13T09:23:00.002-05:00

Sweet Ivy Grace turns 1 year old today. She has brought so much joy to our lives. We love her so much!

My baby

2008-03-10T09:33:00.003-05:00

Dedicating today to the memory of my first born son, Zach, whom I lost two years ago today. He will always be my first born, and I will never stop loving him.

In loving remembrance.

Current reflection

2008-02-07T14:05:00.001-06:00

For the first time in a number of years, I can honestly say that I am happy. Happy.

My long winter is over. I feel springtime inside me and I have been wanting to share the blooms. Hopefully I can get back into blogging soon. I don't know if I can hold it inside much longer.

2007-12-14T14:25:00.000-06:00

Disappointment
Disillusionment
Distrust
Despair
Depression
Death

Hope
Help
Healing
Harmony
Humanity
Holiness
Him

Isn’t that what Christmas is all about?

What a difference a year makes

2007-09-15T12:08:00.000-05:00

One year ago today we found out I was pregnant with Ivy. That began 9 long months of hope mixed with fear. But we made it through and now she is here with us. We have experienced so much healing through having her in our lives. I cannot imagine life without her now. I love her so much!

Suprised by joy, gratitude... and grief

2007-07-24T15:04:00.000-05:00

What a summer this has been. There were many days (months, years!) that I wondered if I would ever be spending my days caring for a baby - my baby. The joy and wonder and relief have been powerful. During times of intense frustration and exhaustion (common to all new parents, I know), I am sometimes overcome with a sense of gratitude. The theme of remembrance is still at the front of my mind- remembering where I have been, what I have gone through, what it has taken to bring little Ivy into the world. When I remember the years of hopelessness and pain and grief and longing, the current sleeplessness and feelings of being overwhelmed are a little more bearable. What a true gift she is - I just cannot get over the realization that she's really here, and she's healthy, and she's all mine. I am living out a dream that only existed in my mind for such a long time. And for that, I am thankful.

Alongside of this is remembrance of those around me who are hurting in this area. I have three dear friends who all have been trying to conceive for over 2 years. So many potential babies lost, every month! A professor at my old job just lost his 6 year old son to cancer after fighting for his life for 4 1/2 years. The funeral was heartbreaking and gut-wrenching. I almost had to leave, it was so painful. I just heard today about a classmate of my husband's whose baby, diagnosed with severe defects, died in the womb just a few weeks away from the due date. I also heard today about a friend of a friend, who had a miscarriage last year and is pregnant again, only to find out this baby has severe defects of the limbs (though as I understand it, thankfully this baby should live). These precious little children! It hurts so much to see them and their families suffer. My heart breaks and tears flow with each of these as I remember them and their pain, and again I am filled with a sense of deep gratitude. Why have we been blessed when others are hurting so? We have been showered with grace - and that is part of the reason we chose Grace as Ivy's middle name.

Still, despite my joy and gratitude, I did not expect to be simultaneously overwhelmed with grief. While I know from reading about others' experiences that it is not uncommon for a bereaved parent to experience renewed grief upon the birth of a subsequent child, I had hopes that I had done "such a good job" at working my way through my grief over Zach that perhaps it wouldn't still haunt me after Ivy was born.

But it does. The intense grief I often save for my counseling visits - at home I really dont have the time or energy to fully immerse myself in it. After all, I've got a beautiful baby girl to love and take care of, so the thoughts that pop up into my head are usually relegated to a sense of sadness of what should have been. After all, tomorrow, we should have been celebrating little Zach's 1st birthday (it is the anniversary of his due date). The realization of this fact is incredibly painful - the intensity of which has surprised me. Honestly, if I think about it for very long, I get a very real physical pain in my heart.

And yet, the fact remains that while I do have two children, I can never have both of them here with me. While I feel that I would do anything to get Zach back, I wouldn't give up Ivy to get him back. A mother's heart torn. (I realize no one is asking me to choose between my children - but it is a feeling I struggle with). The birth of my precious daughter has given me renewed hope, real joy, and an overwhelming sense of relief. I love her like crazy and am so happy she is here. But still, complete peace evades me, for I have two children, yet we are a family of three, not four. The word I think that best describes this situation I'm in is bittersweet.

Tomorrow Adam and I are going to the cemetery where little Zach is buried. I'd like to go remembering not only him and what would have been, but the others I've mentioned.

Dedicated to the memory of my little baby boy Zach, who would have turned one year old tomorrow.

The Couch

2007-06-08T17:50:00.000-05:00

I love our living room couches. This was the first set of furniture that Adam and I ever bought, and we have been pleased with our purchase since day one.

I have spent many hours on the main couch. Many evenings I have sat on the couch and read books, or watched a movie with Adam, or visited with friends or family. Since I went part time at work, I have spent many afternoons napping on this couch as well.

Today I laid on this couch in our living room and let my sweet daughter take a nap on my chest. She napped with me for over an hour. I began reflecting in wonder on this.

This is the same couch where I spent much time dreaming of being pregnant and having children, and crying in frustration (sometimes alone, sometimes with Adam, sometimes with friends) as we dealt with infertility. This is the same couch where my parents were sitting when we first told them we were pregnant with Zach. The same couch where I napped when pregnant with Zach, dreaming dreams of the little baby inside. This is the same couch where I spent hours agonizing and grieving over his death and trying to grasp what happened to my precious son. Where I sat furiously writing my thoughts to God in anger and anguish, where I tried to soothe my wounded heart listening to soft music, and where I spent hours watching people and cars go by through the window. Where I spent much time reading every book I could get my hands on that would minister to me. Where I was sitting when I thought I might be miscarrying after finding out I was pregnant last May. And it is the same couch where Adam was sitting when I told him the doctor's office had told me I was pregnant with Ivy last September (and where I freaked out, worrying that it was going to be another miscarriage).

And now, I am taking naps on this couch with my beautiful daughter. I can't believe she's here. I can't believe she's real. I can't believe she's mine. What a joy to share this couch with her.

Here comes the sun

2007-05-16T14:17:00.000-05:00

Ivy Grace Moore
Born Mothers Day, Sunday May 13th, 3:27 am
7 pounds, 20 inches

_________________________________

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it's all right

Little darlin' it's been a long cold lonely winter
Little darlin' it feels like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it's all right

Little darlin' the smiles returning to their faces
Little darlin' it seems like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it's all right
...

Little darlin' I feel the ice is slowly meltin'
Little darlin' it seems like years since it's been clear

Here come the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it's all right

Here come the sun, here comes the sun
It's all right, it's all right

Reflections

2007-05-10T14:36:00.000-05:00

I realize it has been awhile since I've posted. My "reflections" have been few and far between as of late. My brain, heart and body have been extremely preoccupied and overwhelmed by a million thoughts and emotions as I prepare to give birth to a healthy, live, baby -- something I have many times wondered if was ever possible. (See my "waiting" blog for the birth plans...).

Being a naturally introspective and reflective person, I feel like I have lost myself somewhat in the last few months - but then again, that feeling is not new at all. It's something I've dealt with over the past 3 to 4 years. A kind of numbness or emptiness, I guess.

However, I do feel some yearning inside. Yearning for a sense of who I really am, but more than that, yearning for my God. I can say that it's been awhile since I've consciously made time to think about/spend time with Him, especially since my reading material has been solely pregnancy/baby/parenting for the last 2 to 3 months. The last "spiritual" book I read was "Where is God when bad things happen." (very well worth my time, by the way). However, just because I haven't consciously made time to think about Him does not necessarily mean He has not invaded my thoughts here and there.

I feel almost like I'm setting myself up for defeat if I expect to reconnect with God at the same time as trying to take care of a newborn infant (and being a first time parent). You know, all the people that say your life as you know it is over, you'll never sleep again or have time to yourself, etc. I'm not saying those things aren't true - I certainly want to have realistic expectations about parenthood, and in all the years I've been strongly desiring to be a mother, I have never tried to gloss over all the difficulties and hardships that I know/have been told come with it. But I, and Adam, for that matter, do have a hope (even if just a small one) that this birth and subsequent relationship with our child will begin (continue?) to bridge a very deep chasm between us and God - that is, that it will be a strong agent towards healing. Deep healing. Will you hope with us?

Zach's genkgo

2007-04-02T10:41:00.000-05:00

I am happy to say that Zach's genkgo tree survived the winter! This picture was taken last week - and the tree has changed tremendously even since then. There are many more green leaves on it now. It's really beautiful. We really are relieved to see it budding, because all during the winter it gave us no sign as to whether it was still alive or not, and we don't know the first thing about "raising" trees...

I'm still here

2007-03-28T12:49:00.000-05:00

Sorry for the lack of posts recently. Some of the things I've been thinking about lately can be found on my friend Mark's blog (see posts on Kusher)...

Glasses

2007-03-15T10:27:00.000-05:00

I have been wearing my glasses (instead of my contacts) now for a year. I had just bought a good pair of glasses a few days before we lost Zach (ironically I had bought them to wear in the hospital - I just wasn't expecting to wear them so soon). After losing him, I felt this great urge to keep wearing them - even though I hadn't worn glasses since the 6th grade. After what I went through, I wanted to look different. I was not the same person anymore. As silly as it sounds, wearing my glasses was very meaningful to me. But it went beyond just how I looked. It also was a reminder of how much my vision of life had changed. You see, the theme of my blog since the very beginning has been "Reflections in the Mirror." At different times I have had different subtitles, such as "Things are not always as they seem" or the verse from I Corinthians 13 that says "Now we see but a poor reflection in the mirror" etc. The reason I chose this theme for my blog is because it has been a theme in my own life for the last 3-4 years now. Things have not been as they seem, and I have been discovering this through some rough life experiences. The strongest I have felt this theme has been in the last year, when I learned that I am not invicible and that life can be incredibly painful. And that God is not who I thought he was. I have seen so many things in the last 12 months that I could probably write a book someday. I dont mean to say that all these things I have seen are necessarily new and profound - some of them would probably sound very basic, others not so much so - but to me, they have all been incredibly significant and have shaped me into who I am today.

... And I have to say, as much as I would undo the tragedy that Adam and I have gone through IN A SECOND, I don't want go back to being who I was before, or seeing things the way I did before. You just can't go back. Both Adam and I feel this way. We have gained something unspeakable that will be with us always.

And so for now... I continue to wear my glasses.

2007-03-13T10:51:00.000-05:00

Adam and I spent Saturday remembering and honoring baby Zach with our close friends and family. The memorial was beautiful - it was exactly what we wanted and everything we needed. We have been reminded of how much we are truly loved.

March 10th

2007-03-10T19:40:00.000-06:00

It’s very hard to believe a year has gone by since our hearts were broken by baby Zach’s death. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about him, in some way or another. I often wonder what he would have been like – his personality, his looks, his character. Would he have been outgoing, or shy? Would he have been a bookworm like his parents? Would he have had his daddy’s dry sense of humor, or been over-analytical like his momma? Would he have loved sports and supported the Steelers, like his dad, or loved the piano, like his mom? Even little things, like would he have pulled Toby’s tail out on the deck, or chased him around the yard? It’s sad to think that we will never know the answers to these questions.

There are so many unwritten “memories” that I have of him – things that will never come to be. His first steps, first day of school, first girlfriend, first time behind the wheel, high school and college graduation, wedding day, etc. This is what is the hardest about grief over one who died in the womb – you don’t have any memories. They are all just dreams that stay dreams.

It is difficult to know how to mourn for one I never met, but one whom I loved nonetheless. The world often has a hard time validating the significance of babies, especially ones that were never known or held. But we know that Zach was special – that He was God’s gift to us, and that he was greatly wanted and loved. I know I didn’t grasp this until we lost him. For truly, my short time with him has changed me forever. I am not the same person I was before him. That, if nothing else, serves to remind me just how precious he is. What little relationship I had with him in the womb was powerful – I didn’t even realize how much so until he was gone.

As for now, a year later, I’m still working hard to sort through all my feelings and thoughts regarding everything that has happened concerning Zach. I think I will be doing this for the rest of my life, although I anticipate greater relief and peace the further along I go. I believe he wants our joy to be restored, and our heartache to be redeemed. I like to believe that Zach is in heaven smiling at us, knowing how much we love him and wanted him to be a part of our earthly family. I like to believe that God has given him the ability to understand our difficulties in trying to grieve for him but also move on. That he knows he will always have a place in our heart as our first born son; even that he is excited about a baby sister coming for his mommy and daddy to hold. His sister will make us a family of four, even though only three of us are physically together. I’ve often read that a woman who loses a child, even one that was still in the womb, forever feels that her family is incomplete. I believe that is true.

This day is a powerful reminder of the excruciating pain and loss that Adam and I experienced with Zach’s death. There are no words to do it justice. Yet, we are comforted that while we wrestle with grief, Zach is at peace, in the arms of Jesus. While I know he wants to be with us, at least we can know that he is well taken care of, and that we will see him again someday. One of my favorite images of him to remember is a video of a sonogram that we had done just a few weeks before he died. At one point in the video, you can see him hold his hand up, and it appears he is waving to us. At the time we thought he was saying hello to us, but now, it is the final scene in my mind of saying goodbye. What a treasure to have that image of him, our baby boy.

Lovingly dedicated to the memory of Zach Moore, our first born son, who died before he was born on March 10, 2006.

March 9th

2007-03-09T09:00:00.000-06:00

Dedicating this post to the memory of Katie Laine Wrublesky, who was born too soon and passed away one year ago today, and who is in heaven with my baby Zach. Wishing peace and comfort on all of Katie's family.

Momentous week

2007-03-06T08:59:00.000-06:00

I am entering into a momentous week, for two different reasons. One being that I have reached the third trimester with this baby (name to be announced soon), and am beginning to feel and experience hope and joy at having made it this far - even some belief that Adam and I actually will get to hold this little girl, and that she will be a part of our family on earth, not just in heaven. The other being that I am approaching the one year anniversary of the day we lost our baby son Zach - and all the memories that go along with that (many of them still very vivid). Try to imagine the conflicting emotions. I honestly have struggled with how to feel this week.

Adam asked me the other day if I felt like it had been an entire year since that tragic day. I said no, because for me, time stopped last March, and didn't really pick up again for several months. I don't really have the sensation of experiencing a full year. He felt the same way.

We are holding a small memorial for Zach out at the cemetery on Saturday, the day of the one year anniversary. We did not have a funeral last year, and very few have even seen the grave marker. Adam and I are anticipating this as being a very fitting and comforting way to spend the day, having those closest to us surround us in loving memory of our first born son. We were also blessed to have some friends offer to host a reception afterwards at their house. We truly have felt loved.

10 years of being Valentines

2007-02-15T08:23:00.000-06:00

Adam and I just celebrated our 10th Valentines Day together. The picture above is from Valentines Day in 1998. At the time we were seniors in high school.

I can honestly say we are more in love now than we've ever been.

Article on grief.

2007-02-07T11:17:00.000-06:00

Thanks to Catherine for posting this article on grief (don't worry, it's short). I just thought it was worth sharing.

The many windows of God

2007-01-31T09:04:00.000-06:00

I like allegories, imagery, and word pictures. I will admit that sometimes they are cheesy, but for the most part, they are at least helpful to me.

One that I have come to think about frequently in the past year or so is the idea of God being a house with many windows. We don't really know for sure what it's like in the house until we are in heaven, but in this life we are given the opportunity to look inside a window or two.

For much of my life, I think I have only looked in one (or maybe two) of God's windows. I only had a few views into his house. And for a long time, that was all I needed. In fact, I didn't even realize there were other windows to look into.

I have now been torn away from that window and placed in front of another window. Another room in the house of God that I didn't know existed. One that many other people, I'm sure, don't know about, either (though to be sure, there are many who have looked inside this window). I want to share what I see in that window - that is, when I can see through the window. Many times the curtains have been closed, or when they are not, the glass is so dirty it's hard to see in. Those who do visit this window usually are in a hurry to move on, so very few take care to clean it for others who might come along after.

As for what I see, I will venture to say that though it often may not sound orthodox, it is just as valid as the view into any of the other windows of God. Perhaps in heaven I will learn that the window I have been looking through was a false window - but I don't think so.

I want to tell my friends and whoever may be reading this that I do not presume to say that the window I used to look into, or the one you are looking into, is no longer real or valid. I believe it is. But for it to be valid, my window must also be valid.

As for what I see through my window, it would take pages and pages to even begin to describe it. But I can probably share a few things. I see a God who did not live up to my expectations - who was not who I thought he was - who did not do the things I thought he would do, or say the things I thought he would say. Who, according to my human perception (which is all I have right now), abandoned me in my greatest time of need.

I see a God who refuses to fit into any mold I have ever tried to place him in; who is full of surprises and mystery; who is still real despite seeming as absent as ever; who somehow has not given up on me despite the years of drought and doubt; who has created beautiful people to sustain me when he is "not enough"; and who somehow has remembered me even when I feel forgotten.

This is just a tiny bit of what I see.

a note from me

2007-01-30T11:05:00.000-06:00

I just have so much to say that I have nothing to say, if that makes sense. I'm working hard at sorting through many difficult and often conflicting emotions about many different issues/situations and am just overwhelmed and bogged down. And, I've just had a particularly hard time in the last week and a half. I'm really looking forward to relief from internal turmoil... someday...

In the meantime, I'm thankful for my husband and friends for putting up with me lately. Their love is what keeps me going.

2007-01-21T21:57:00.000-06:00

Sometimes, life is just painful.

How I long for better days.

2007-01-18T16:56:00.000-06:00

Yes, I realize I have had a scarcity of posts lately. I don't like it that way. I often really do feel that I am a writer at heart, and when I don't write for periods of time, all the stuff inside of me starts to back-log (for lack of a better expression). Then it becomes overwhelming and because I am a perfectionist in writing and only want to present clear, logically organized thoughts, I just shut down and don't even make an attempt. Not a great way to function, really.

So, what has been on my mind lately? Many things. But one thing I thought I might write a little bit about is a book I read recently, called "A New Kind of Christian." The author of this book (Brian McLaren) is quite a controversial figure within the Christian world and because of that, I want to be careful in what I write here. This is a book that would have greatly upset me, even just a few years ago (and there were definitely still parts in the book that I had trouble with, don't get me wrong!). So, my intention in writing about this is not to offend anyone, only to share what has been going on within my spiritual life with the help of this book. I was very surprised to find how helpful this book was in explaining much of what I have been going through for some time now.

So, that said, for me, the book was right on. It is not for everyone, but it paints a very active picture of what has been happening in me lately. I have known something wasn't right with me for awhile now, in my faith, my view of God, my role in the "church", my understanding of science/religion, of "witnessing"/evangelism, of loving my neighbor, etc etc etc. Many times as I was reading the book, I had "lightbulb" experiences that seemed to shout "No wonder I have been feeling/thinking this way!" , or "No wonder I have been having problems with these concepts/ideas/beliefs!" It all makes so much sense, and the best part about it is that it made me realize that I have not lost my faith (or even just gone "liberal" - a bad word in the evangelical conservative circles I grew up in!). The problem is, I am just unable to function as a Christian in a "modern" sense - the way I grew up, the way that is still practiced around me by many, the way that is still expected of me (even by myself). The world has changed, and that is not a bad thing. The wonderful news about this is that I am not alone in this - there are many, many Christians going through this.

The book talks much about "postmoderism" as opposed to "modernism". I realize that "postmodernism" can carry quite a negative connotation within the evangelical/conservative world, but the book really described it in a way that really made sense to me and was not offensive (perhaps because my thinking has been changing for some time now). My favorite thing about postmodernism (that is emphasized in the book, anyway) is focusing on a new way to think of things (hence the title "A New Kind of Christian"). That is, thinking outside the box, one of my (many) soapboxes over the last few years. The book is a (fictional) conversation between two friends who are discussing the changes of being a Christian when going from the modern way of thinking to the postmodern way of thinking. The first man, Dan, is a pastor who is trying to understand and enter this new postmodern world, and the second, "Neo," is a former pastor-now school teacher who has a really good grasp of postmodernism and who shares what he learns with Dan. So often in dicussions Dan would try to pin Neo down by trying to get him to take a stance on one of the many issues that are so prevalent today - say, homosexuality, pluralism, different denominations/religions, science/evolution, tolerance, politics etc etc. While Neo has opinions on these issues, and doesn't deny that there are important issues, the theme throughout the book, again and again, was: You're missing the point! This is the stuff that we get so tangled up in, but this is not why we're here! Neo often draws a line on a piece of paper and on one end has the "liberal" view and on the other end has the "conservative" view. He points out to Dan that the majority of modern man's thinking tends to be somewhere on that line, whereas postmodernism rises above that line and sees things in a whole new light.

I. LOVE. THAT.

I'll stop here. Perhaps there will be more later, perhaps not.

More closure - sort of

2007-01-08T08:48:00.000-06:00

Well, Zach's grave marker is in and it is already set in the ground. We were excited and went out to look at it. The good news is the wording on the bronze plaque is perfect. The bad news is they ordered the wrong size granite stone that it sits on. They are going to correct it for us, but it will take another 3-4 months.

It doesn't look bad, it's just not as proportional as it is supposed to be (the granite marker is supposed to be smaller, so that the bronze plaque doesn't look so tiny). And it doesn't match the other infant grave markers, either. And, most of all, it's just not what we ordered...

Anyway, we are frustrated, but at least we have something out there for now...

Absence of Presence/Asking the wrong question

2007-01-04T10:23:00.000-06:00

I recently finished a book called "A Sacred Sorrow: Reaching out to God in the Lost Language of Lament" (by Michael Card). There is so much from this book that I have gained and would love to write about, but the main thing I can share from it is the theme of Presence.

Card writes about how so often we view lament as crying out about our suffering - that is, the physical/tangible issues that cause us pain and heartache. And while this is true, he points out that real lament is crying out over the absence of Presence. God's Presence, that is. I would venture to say that I could have gotten through these last few years alright if I had felt God's Presence with me. It was the absence of Presence that broke me, not the infertility struggle and subsequent loss of baby Zach.

Think about it. On the cross, Jesus cried out "My God, why have you forsaken me?" Not - "Why am I being crucified?" or "Why am I suffering?" He was lamenting the loss of Presence. I can think of many times when I thought to myself, "I think I could bear this burden if I just sense His Presence. But it is gone!"

I recently started reading another book called "Where is God when Bad Things Happen" by Horace Duke (not to be confused with the Kushner book "When Bad Things Happen to Good People" or other books along those lines). I have only read through two chapters yet, but have been blown away already by the book. The thing that has struck me the most in what little I have read is this: in times of pain like I have experienced, often we ask the wrong question. That is, we ask "Why is this happening to me? Why do bad things happen? Why am I suffering?" While those are real and valid questions - and do need to be asked and worked through - the real question, the one that really needs to be addressed, is "Where is God when bad things happen?" Where is the Presence?

THAT is the real issue.

The last day of 2006

2006-12-31T11:33:00.000-06:00

It's the last day of 2006 and I am more than ready to close out the year. As I face 2007, I am clinging to HOPE.

Hope for healing and redemption - can this awful year ever be redeemed?

Hope for new life - not just for our new baby but for Adam and me as well.

Hope for dreams to finally be fulfilled.

Hope for the inner peace that has evaded me for far too long.

Hope for restoration with God.

Mercy, Abba.

On the sonogram table

2006-12-21T13:21:00.000-06:00

For much of this month, I have been thinking about looking for God. Or, not even so much actively looking for God as even just being open to seeing Him. If that makes sense. I have been thinking some on the concept of Advent - watching and waiting in expectation of Him. I grew up without celebrating the tradition of Advent (or Lent, or other higher-church traditions), so this is somewhat unfamiliar to me. But the more I have thought about it, the more that the Christmas season has meant to me. And the more I have desired to keep my eyes open, just for the faint possibility that perhaps I will see, or experience, God.

And, I think I did. In the sonogram room at Waco Center for Women's Health on Tuesday afternoon: We are having a baby girl. That is unreal to me. I can't tell you how much it means to me to be having a girl. It is not just the fact that I wanted a girl - and that this is the beginning of the fulfillment of a dream of mine - it goes way beyond that. I just can't express the significance of this in words, but I'll try. By having a girl, Adam and I have a chance to create a new experience, instead of following the same path as our last pregnancy when at this point in the pregnancy we were expecting a boy, talking about boy names, and trying to decide on boy-ish nursery themes. If we were having a boy this time, it would be hard and almost eery to be back in the same place as we were last time, since it all ended so tragically.

It goes without saying that Adam and I desperately don't want to repeat our last experience. And I know that having a girl doesn't guarantee anything as far as having a successful pregnancy, but what it does help do is make this path that we are now on already different from the last pregnancy.

I really just can't seem to put into words what a big deal this is to me. It has only become clear to me how big of a deal it is since Tuesday when we found out it's a girl - I was amazed by the amount of relief and hope in me that I have felt. Even - imagine this - some joy and happiness. I really, really needed for this to be a girl. And I didn't even realize that until this week.

But God did. Realize it, that is.

And so, as I lay there on the exam table in the sonogram room experiencing both amazement and joy that we were actually going to have a girl, I saw God.

Baby Girl Moore

2006-12-20T09:38:00.000-06:00

Yesterday we found out we're having a girl. I can't tell you how happy this makes me. For more details and pictures, see www.waitingforthemorning.blogspot.com. Please remember us in this critical period when we are so afraid of preterm labor and losing this new baby.

2006-12-14T08:48:00.000-06:00

The other day I was searching for a photo on my computer at home and randomly came across the picture file of the last sonogram we have of Zach. I have to admit, it made my heart skip a beat. There was his beautiful head, with a perfect view of his profile. I still can't get over the fact that this was a real person who is no more. That he died before he even lived.

A pen-pal friend of mine who lost her baby at 6 months the very day before me wrote to me about experiencing this Christmas without her baby girl. She is having a hard time with it. I thought about that some. I think that I definitely would be having a much harder time if I were not pregnant again, but even so, when I really let myself go there - I come up against some raw, sharp pain. What do you do with the thoughts of "what should have been"? We were supposed to be celebrating little Zach's first Christmas, and smothering him with love and gifts.

I just can't even comprehend it, so I think sometimes I just don't think about it. I don't know if that is healthy or not. Probably not.

We found out that Zach's grave marker is supposed to arrive at the cemetery next week. Actually, it is supposed to arrive on the same day when we are scheduled to have a sonogram to find out if we're having a boy or a girl. What a mixture of emotions - joy and heartache.

My children.

Blah

2006-12-11T10:49:00.000-06:00

I hate writer's block. I have all these thoughts swirling around in my head, day after day, and I am unable to get them down on paper (er, the computer screen).

Blah.

Zach's ginkgo

2006-11-28T08:22:00.000-06:00

The leaves on our new ginkgo tree turned a beautiful yellow recently. This is part of the reason we chose this tree (among other things).

Unfortunately, we didn't get to enjoy it for too long, because the leaves have already started falling off! (In fact, it's starting to look a little bit like Charlie Brown's pathetic Christmas tree).

Still, it is pretty to see the sprinkling of bright yellow leaves among the green grass.

Here's to hoping Zach's tree makes it through the winter...

One year ago today

2006-11-16T14:07:00.000-06:00

A year ago today Adam's and my lives were changed forever. That was the day we found out I was pregnant with Zach. I will never forget that day. After wanting to be get pregnant for 2 1/2 years and trying for 18 months of that time, I was pretty spent, and unsure it was even possible. But after using a miracle ovulatory drug, I conceived. We were elated - although I do still remember being nervous about a possible miscarriage (not nearly to the degree that I am now though!). Still, we enjoyed getting to tell all our friends, family and coworkers. A few days after we found out, Adam and I had already had a trip planned to go down to San Antonio and stay at a hotel on the Riverwalk. It was quite a wonderful trip, having just found out I was pregnant. I think we spent the trip trying to comprehend the big news. Then a few days afterwards, we went into Thanksgiving having a very big reason to be thankful.

This year as we approach Thanksgiving we have another reason to be thankful - another chance at bringing a child - ours - into the world. The pessimist in me finds it hard to be thankful, since I know I can lose this baby at any given moment. And, because no matter how much joy I could potentially receive from this child, it doesn't take away the pain and grief tied to my first baby. Still, I am remembering the words written by John Claypool that spoke of gratitude being the only way out of the pit of grief and despair. I want to be grateful for this new baby – and to be grateful for Zach too. For the few months we he was in our lives, he did bring joy.

On this special anniversary day, here’s to hoping that Zach’s younger brother/sister will live to meet us and that someday we can share this with him or her.

Feeling anguish today

2006-11-13T09:22:00.000-06:00

Life can seem so cruel sometimes. Why does one person have to go through extreme suffering and loss after years of waiting for a child, and another naively welcomes a baby easily conceived into the world without a second thought that anything could have gone wrong.

Why is my son dead and another woman's is alive?

About the only consolation here is that I'm not alone in asking this question.

I'm missing my baby boy

2006-11-07T10:11:00.000-06:00

Do not hurry
As you walk with grief
It does not help the journey

Walk slowly
Pausing often
Do not hurry
As you walk with grief

Be gentle with the other
Who walks with grief
If it is you
Be gentle with yourself
Swiftly forgive
Walk slowly
Pausing often

Take time, be gentle
as you walk with grief

--GMD

Waiting for the morning...

2006-10-25T10:27:00.000-05:00

9 years ago today Adam and I went on our first date. It was the start of a beautiful love and friendship, and I have never, ever regretted it. We have made a commitment to each other to stay together no matter where this road takes us. We have held true to that, even through the most difficult of journeys. Now, we are once again choosing to embark on a long journey that we desperately hope will end in smiles and not tears.

I am pregnant again.

While there is much relief and some amount of hope, there is also great fear and anxiety. This will not be the pregnancy we had dreamed of. No, it is too late for that. There is not ever going to be a point in this pregnancy where we can breathe a sigh of relief. Not until we are holding a full term, healthy baby in our arms.

Still, we are trying to be cautiously optimistic about this one and hope that in time we will be able to allow excitement over the pregnancy to become real to us, and not hollow, as is it now.

Adam and I are chosing to take a great risk - to love. Hopefully we will not lose again. We need much love, prayers, and support to sustain us on this long journey.

___________
As a side note, I have chosen not to make my new pregnancy the focus of this blog, and have created another one for that purpose: www.waitingforthemorning.blogspot.com. However, I'm sure I will write updates on this blog as well, from time to time.

The flame is dim

2006-10-23T16:29:00.000-05:00

I am not satisfied. I feel lost. And empty inside.

I work so hard at personal recovery and personal growth, especially coming out of a horrible tragedy, and the years before that of disillusionment and severe disappointment. I've never been one to just "let myself go." No, I have always sought help in every way I can. I’m committed to my counseling, to talking and writing about what I’m going through, reading endless books, staying healthy, keeping up with friends as much as I can, and continuing hobbies like playing the piano. I set high goals for myself, many of which may be unattainable. I feel like I am on the right path - after all, I am seeking.

Adam and I had a long talk last night. Often when I feel lost and empty inside, no matter how hard I try to reconnect to God, I feel like I hit a dead end. When we talk about this, we often talk in circles until the conversation finally turns to the person of Jesus, and what He has to do with me and my life. That is, what difference does He make to me? Many times I don’t know. Oh, I could give you an intellectual answer, but that doesn’t satisfy me and it wouldn’t satisfy you either. This is a hard place to go, and yet I know this is exactly where the conversation needs to end up.

I’ve read some really truthful and touching books on Jesus (particularly by Phillip Yancey), all of which are supposed to gently help me get to know and experience Him personally. These books really have touched me, and not just intellectually. I feel like I really have seen some things – even to the point of being moved to tears. I’ve read things that have made me think, as I was reading, “There are some real answers here. I’ve got to read this again and again until I ‘get’ it. I know the answer is here in the person of Jesus – I can sense it, but I just can’t grasp it!”

Why can’t I grasp it? What is wrong?

I don't want my flame to die out.

__________________
Please forgive me for turning off the comments here. I'm just too sensitive at the moment to allow comments. And after all, this is something I'm going to have to experience on my own anyway. Let's hope that day comes soon.

True or not, it still touched me

2006-10-17T10:36:00.000-05:00

I just read one of those email forwards with the touching stories that people send you, that ends with a statement telling you to send it to lots of other people. I am not a big fan of forwards, but I actually read this one because it told the story of a very prematurely born baby - one born just 4 weeks older than baby Zach when he was born. I have no idea if this story is true, but it had lots of pictures of the tiny baby and family. If it's not true, someone went to alot of work to put this together. Anyway, I'm not going to copy the whole story and pictures here, but I'll just summarize.

A lady had to have an emergency C-section at 24 weeks, and amazingly, the baby survived without any of the problems the doctors predicted. She is now a healthy child. The story focuses on the first several months of her life, though, when the parents could not even touch or hold the baby because she was SO premature that skin contact would harm her.

The story then fast forwards to a day when the child was sitting outdoors with her mother, and said "Do you know what it smells like?" Her mother looked at the gathering thunder clouds and replied, "Yes, it smells like rain." "No," the little girl responded, "It smells like God when you lay your head on His chest."

The email then says that this was evidence to the mother and the rest of the family that God was indeed caring for the young baby during the time when they could not physically care for her themselves. God was so close to her that she remembered His scent years later.

This gave me hope that baby Zach was lovingly taken care of in those last few minutes when he was dying in my womb.

________________
If you want the actual email with the pictures, etc, let me know and I can email it to you.

2006-10-12T09:28:00.000-05:00

Ok, so it's been awhile since I've posted, and it's been a REALLY long time since I posted anything light-hearted. A co-worker of mine sent the following to me by email and it made me laugh so I thought I'd share it. The last line is kind of cheesy so I almost deleted it, but "19 ways..." doesn't sound as cool as "20 ways..." Anyway, my personal favorites are #7, #17 and #18.

20 Ways to Maintain A Healthy Level Of Insanity.

1. At lunch time, sit in your parked car with sunglasses on and point a hair dryer at passing cars. See if they slow down.
2. Page yourself over the intercom. Don't disguise your voice.
3. Every time someone asks you to do something, ask if they want fries with that.
4. Put your garbage can on your desk and label it "In."
5. Put decaf in the coffee maker for 3 weeks. Once everyone has gotten over their caffeine addictions, switch to espresso.
6. In the memo field of all your checks, write "For Smuggling Diamonds."
7. Finish all your sentences with "In accordance with the Prophecy."
8. Dont use any punctuation
9. As often as possible, skip rather than walk.
10. Order a diet water whenever you go out to eat, with a serious face.
11. Specify that your drive-thru order is "To Go."
12. Sing along at the opera.
13. Go to a poetry recital and ask why the poems don't rhyme.
14. Put mosquito netting around your work area and play tropical sounds all day.
15. Five days in advance, tell your friends you can't attend their party because you're not in the mood.
16. Have your co-workers address you by your wrestling name, Rock Bottom.
17. When the money comes out of the ATM, scream, "I Won! I Won!"
18. When leaving the zoo, start running towards the parking lot, yelling, "Run for your lives! They're Loose!"
19. Tell your children over dinner, "Due to the economy, we are going to have to let one of you go."
and the final way to keep a healthy level of insanity.......
20. E-mail this to someone to make them smile.......it's called therapy.

Remembrances

2006-10-01T13:36:00.000-05:00

Here is the tree we planted in baby Zach's memory. We planted it right outside the room that would have been his nursery. It is a gingko tree, and its leaves will turn a beautiful yellow/gold in the fall. Wish us luck at keeping it alive - we don't have a very good track record with plants...

Adam and I recenlty learned that gingko herbs are used to enhance memory. We thought that was pretty cool, seeing as Zach's name means "The Lord will remember"- and this tree is in honor of him.

The other remembrance we have purchased is a ring. It is a March birthstone ring - in memory of the month baby Zach was born. The stone is a heart-shaped aquamarine set in white gold. I love it.

What's in a name?

2006-09-28T10:17:00.001-05:00

Apparently, alot.

Adam and I have taken the big plunge and have decided to name our baby boy who is no longer here with us.

For the first six months since we lost him, we weren't able to name him. We did not already have a name picked out when he was born, and we didn't feel right about just picking a random name.

But something happened a few weeks ago. All of a sudden it became clear that it was time to name him. And so we did.

We have chosen the name Zach. It means, "The Lord will remember." We felt it was really appropriate, especially since the remembering applies both to our baby and to Adam and me.

Sweet baby Zach.

The Third Path: Tracks of Fellow Struggler, Part 3

2006-09-25T09:42:00.000-05:00

I call this one “the road of gratitude,” and interestingly enough, it is basic to the story of Abraham and Isaac that serves as our text. Years ago, when I first started taking the Bible seriously, this whole episode used to bother me a good deal. What kind of jealous God is it, I wondered, who demands even a man’s child as a sign of devotion? As I moved more deeply into the biblical revelation, however, I came to realize that the point at issue in this event was not that at all. What God was trying to teach Abraham here and throughout his whole experience was the basic understanding that life is gift – pure, simple, sheer gift – and that we here on earth are to relate to it accordingly.

The promise that came originally to Abraham from God was literally “out of the blue.” Just as he had not been in on the creation of the world or his own birth, so Abraham had done nothing to earn the right of having a land of his own or descendents more numerous than the stars. Such a promise came as a pure gift from God. Abraham was called on to receive it, to participate in it fully and joyfully, to handle it with the open hands of gratitude.

And this, of course, was a picture of how man was meant to relate to existence itself. Life, too, is a gift, and it is to be received and participated in and handled with gratitude.

But right here is the problem. God was having to start all over again with Abraham because mankind had lost this view of life and instead had tried to earn life by the ardors of legalism, or to possess it totally as if it belonged to them alone. And all these mistaken relations served only to curdle life and make of it a crushing burden or a prison of anxiety.

The whole point in the Abraham saga lies in God’s effort to restore men to the right vision of life and a right relationship to it. Only when life is seen as a gift and received with the open hands of gratitude is it the joy that God meant for it to be. And these were the truths God was seeking to emphasize as he waited so long to send Isaac and then asked for him back. Did Abraham realize that all was gift, and not something to be earned or to be possessed, but received, participated in, held freely in gratefulness?

This is the most helpful perspective I have found in the last weeks. And of all the roads to travel, it offers the best promise of being a way out.

Here, in a nutshell, is what it means to understand something as a gift and to handle it with gratitude, a perspective biblical religion puts around all of life. And I am here to testify that this is the only way down from the Mountain of Loss. I do not mean to say that such a perspective makes things easy, for it does not. But at least it makes things bearable when I remember that Laura Lue was a gift, pure and simple, something I neither earned nor deserved nor had a right to. And when I remember that the appropriate response to a gift, even when it is taken away, is gratitude, then I am better able to try and thank God that I was ever given her in the first place.

Even though it is very hard, I am doing my best to learn this discipline now. Everywhere I turn I am surrounded by reminders of her – things we did together, things she said, things she loved. And in the presence of the reminders, I have two alternatives: dwelling on the fact that she has been taken away, I can dissolve in remorse that she is gone forever; or, focusing on the wonder that she was given to us at all, I can learn to be grateful that we shared life, even for an all-too-short ten years. Only three choices, and believe me, the only way out is the way of gratitude. The way or remorse does not alter the stark reality one whit and only makes matters worse. The way of gratitude does not alleviate the pain, but it somehow puts some light around the darkness and builds strength to begin to move on.

Now, having gone full circle, I come back to caution you not to look on me this morning as any authority on how to conquer grief. Rather, I need you to help me on down the way, and this is how: do not counsel me not to question, and do not attempt to give me any total answer. Neither one of those ways works for me. The greatest thing you can do is to remind me that life is a gift – every last particle of it, and that the way to handle a gift is to be grateful. You can really help me if you will never let me forget this fact, just as I hope maybe I may have helped this morning by reminding you of the same thing. As I see it now, there is only one way out of this darkness – the way of gratitude. Will you join me in trying to learn how to travel this way?

The second path (Tracks of a Fellow Struggler -- Part 2)

2006-09-19T10:51:00.000-05:00

Having said that, however, I need to hasten on to identify a second dead-end route, lest I badly confuse you. It is what I call the “road of total intellectual understanding,” the way of explaining everything completely or tying up the loose ends in a tidy answer. To be sure, I have just said that I believe some day God will be able to give an account for what he has done and show how it all fits together, but that eschaton is not now. Accordingly, any attempt at this moment to absolutize or to find an answer that will account for all the evidence will either end in failure or be a real distortion of reality.

I perhaps need to confess to you that at times in the last few months I have been tempted to conclude that our whole existence is utterly absurd. More than once I looked radical doubt full in the face and honestly wondered if all our talk about love and purpose and a fatherly God were not simply a veil of fantasy that we pathetic humans had projected against the void. For you see, in light of the evidence closest at hand, to have absolutized at all would have been to conclude that all was absurd and that there was no Ultimate Purpose. There were times, for example, when Laura Lue was hurting so intensely that she had to bite on a rag and used to beg me to pray to God to take away that awful pain. I would kneel down beside her bed and pray with all the faith and conviction of my soul, and nothing would happen except the pain continuing to rage on. Or again, that same negative conclusion tempted when she asked me in the dark of the night: “When will this leukemia go away?” I answered “I don’t know, darling, but we are doing everything we know to make that happen.” Then she said: “Have you asked God when it will go away?” And I said: “Yes, you have heard me pray to him many times.” But she persisted: “What did he say? When did he say it would go away?” And I had to admit to myself he had not said a word! I had done a lot of talking and praying and pleading, but the response of the heavens had been silence.

But though in moments like that I was tempted to absolutize about life and arrange all existence around that principle, clearer moments made me realize that such simplicity would not correspond to reality. For you see, along the utter absurdity of what was happening to this little girl were countless other experiences that were full of love and purpose and meaning. From people in the clinic and at the hospital, from unnumbered hosts of you the church and the community, came evidences of goodness that were anything but absurd. And I realized that if I were going to judge it all fairly, this data had to be balanced in equal weight alongside the darkness.

I was reminded of a conclusion I came to a long time ago: that you do not solve all the intellectual problems by deciding that everything is absurd. To be sure, it is hard to account for evil on the assumption that God is all-good and all-powerful, but if you do go away with that assumption and go to the other extreme, you are then left with the problem of how to account for all the goodness and purpose that most assuredly also exist. This leads me to conclude that expecting to find one total explanation or answer to this situation is futile.

Never has the stark paradox of real darkness alongside of real light been more apparent to me than in the last days, which means I shall continue to ask questions, but not expect, in history at least, to find an answer. George Buttrick is right in saying that life is essentially a series of events to be borne and lived through rather than intellectual riddles to be played with and solved. Courage is worth ten times more than any answer that claims to be total. We cannot absolutize in such a way that either the darkness swallows up the light or the light the darkness. To do so would be untrue to our human condition that “knows in part” and does all its seeing “as through a glass darkly.”

For me, at least, then, the roads called unquestioning resignation and total understanding hold no promise of leading out of the darkness where I lost my child.

Excerpt taken from "Tracks of a Fellow Struggler" by John Claypool

2006-09-13T20:41:00.000-05:00

Context: Claypool, a pastor, wrote this after his ten year old daughter, Laura Lue, died of leukemia. He is responding to the suggestion that, to endure the suffering, he take "the road of unquestioning resignation." I have underlined the parts that really stuck out at me.

The first of these routes comes highly recommended, and I would label it “the road of unquestioning resignation.” If I have been told once, I have been told a hundred times: “We must not question God. We must not try to understand. We have no right to ask or to inquire into the ways of God with men. The way out is to submit. We must silently and totally surrender. We must accept what God does without a word or a murmur.”

Now there is both ancient and practical wisdom in this approach to deep sorrow, and in one sense it is utterly realistic, for if I have learned anything in all of this, it is just how weak and ineffectual we humans are against the immensities of life and death. Since I was powerless a month ago to do anything to avert this agony, why bother now to struggle with it? I repeat, there is a wisdom of sorts down this road of unquestioning resignation. The only trouble is, it is not a Christian wisdom, and in fact it is a denial of the heart of our faith. I have been frankly dismayed at how many deeply devoted Christians have recommended this way to me, and I have wondered to myself: “Don’t they realize what such an approach implies about the whole of existence?”
To put it bluntly, this sort of silent submission undermines the most precious dimension of our existence; namely, the personal dimension. It reduces all of life to a mechanical power transaction. To be sure, a leaf submits to the wind without saying a word, and a rock allows the flood water to do whatever it pleases without murmur, but are these appropriate analogies for the relation of God and man?

According to the Bible they are not, for in this document the mystery of Godness is depicted as involving more than brute power. The One who moves through these pages is by nature a Being of love, “a Father who pitieth his children,” rather than a Force who knocks about a lot of helpless objects. And of course, words and questions and dialogue back and forth are at the heart of the way persons – especially fathers and children – ought to relate.

Where, then, did we Christians ever get the notion that we must not question God or that we have no right to pour out our souls to him and ask, Why? Did not Job in the Old Testament cry out to God in the midst of his agony and attempt to interrogate the Almighty? Did not Jesus himself agonize with God in Gethsemane, telling him how he felt and what he wanted, and then cry out from the Cross: “My God, My God! Why? Why have you forsaken me” Would the verse “Ask and it shall be given to you, seek and you should find, knock and it shall be opened unto you” ever have appeared in Holy Scripture if unquestioning acquiescence had been the way to meet tragedy?

I, for one, see nothing but a dead end down this road of silent resignation, for it is one of those medicines that cures at the expense of killing the organism it is supposed to heal. After all, my questions in the face of this event are a real part of me now, and to deny them or to suppress them by bowing mechanically to a superior Force is an affront not only to God and to my own nature but to the kind of relation we are supposed to have.

There is more honest faith in an act of questioning than in the act of silent submission, for implicit in the very asking is the faith that some light can be given. This is why I found such help in a letter I received from Dr. Carlyle Marney just before Laura Lue died. He admitted that he had no word for the suffering of the innocent and never had had, but he said, “I fall back on the idea that God has a lot to give an account for.”

Now, to be honest, no one ever said anything like that to me before, and at first, it was a little shocking, but the more I thought about it, the truer it became to the faith of the bible. At no point in its teaching is there ever an indication that God wants us to remain like rocks or even little infants in our relationship to Him. He wants us to become mature sons and daughters, which means that he holds us responsible for our actions and expects us to hold him responsible for his!

I do not believe God wants me to hold in these questions that burn in my heart and soul – questions like: “Why is there leukemia? Why are children of promise cut down at the age of ten? Why did you let Laura Lue suffer so excruciatingly and then let her die?” I am really honoring God when I come clean and say, “You owe me an explanation.” For, you see, I believe he will be able to give such an accounting when all the facts are in, and until then, it is valid to ask.

It is not rebelliousness, then, but faith that keeps me from finding any promise down the road of unquestioning resignation. This approach is closer to pagan Stoicism than Christian humility. I have no choice but to submit to this event of death. Still, the questions remain, and I believe I will honor God by continuing to ask and seek and knock rather than resigning myself like a leaf or a rock.

The jury is still out...

2006-09-12T10:17:00.000-05:00

I am feeling the need to write this morning. However, there are so many directions I could go. I could write about how the pain is particularly attacking me this morning. I could write about grief and all the loneliness, the feeling that no one understands, and all the hurt and sorrow that goes with this.

Or, I could write about death. This weekend marked 6 months since we lost our little baby boy and our lives were changed forever. I have written much about this, but I have not written much about how I still hurt from time to time over the loss of my two grandparents (one died Fall 04, the other Spring 05). I still dream vivid dreams about them often, where I can speak to them and see and touch them, and I just wake up hurting and missing them so much. I have learned from a friend that "grief resurrects grief," and the loss of my baby has resurrected other grief that is still very near to me, such as the loss of my grandparents. I could even expand my thoughts on death to include death of myself - no, not my physical self, of course, but my inner self and who I used to be. And related, death of my dreams. And the piercing pain and humiliation I feel when I see so many around me living out those dreams (and some with so much ease!).

I could also write about some of the things I've been reading/learning recently. Like, the verse in Isaiah about mounting with wings like eagles, running and not growing weary, walking and not fainting. And about how now, at this point in my life, it is all I can do just to be able to walk without fainting. And how that has to be enough for me, and for others - I can't be expected to fly, or even run, at this point in my life. Or I could write about lament, and how God values and desires our laments as much as He wants our worship and our praise. About how He'd rather us be real, even angry with Him, than not think of Him at all. Or about not attributing bad things to God. That God is the giver of life and He does not kill babies. That He is really and truly actually for me.

However, the thing that has affected me the most in the last week is from a book I'm reading called "Tracks of a Fellow Struggler." It was written by a pastor (John Claypool) several years ago who lost his ten year old daughter to leukemia, so he knows the heart of grief and the pain of loss. I don't think he experienced quite the "dark night of the soul" that I have, but he is certainly honest and open in his writings. He talks about being presumptuous, about how we can't make judgments about what is happening in our lives just yet. That is, we haven't seen the other side of the story. This really got me thinking, because in the last few years I have become a big proponent of thinking outside the box and not judging something until you know the whole story. Mainly, about being open. I knew that should carry over into my current life experiences, but when you're hurting so terribly, it's almost impossible to think logically. Anyway, I guess the way I want to feel regarding my life and my pain is that the jury is still out on this one. I don't know what I will find out in the end - whether God really is good, or whether He is not, after all. Whether there was a purpose, or not. I don't know yet. I'm not able to just say with absolute faith that "Yes, He is still good and still in control", but I want to try not to go the other direction so much either. I'd like to be able to be open, and just wait to see what happens. The pessimist in me says, "Don't hold your breath" for any goodness or healing, but the faint bit of hope still alive keeps me from being in total and complete despair.

Lord, if I wait with openness for You, will You disappoint me yet again?

2006-09-08T08:59:00.000-05:00

The other day when I was in Walmart, it seemed like the whole time I was there, I was in range of a baby crying incessantly (and rather loudly). I really was not irritated by the noise. Instead, I began to think to myself with a new realization of shock (yes, even after this long, I'm still in shock at what happened to my baby), "I never even got to hear my baby cry. No sound ever came from his mouth."

No, he never cried. But oh, I have.

"Bless me!" (with reference to Jacob, not Jabez)

2006-09-05T09:55:00.000-05:00

Taken from "Shattered Dreams" by Larry Crabb.

Bless me! Bless me! Not because I am good, but because You are good. Bless me! Not because I deserve Your blessing, but because it is Your nature to bless. You really can't help Yourself. I appeal not to who I am. You owe me nothing. I appeal only to who You are.

_________________________

So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak. When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob's hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man. Then the man said, "Let me go, for it is daybreak."
But Jacob replied, "I will not let you go unless you bless me."
The man asked him, "What is your name?"
"Jacob," he answered.
Then the man said, "Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with men and have overcome."
Jacob said, "Please tell me your name."
But he replied, "Why do you ask my name?" Then he blessed him there.
So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, "It is because I saw God face to face, and yet my life was spared."
The sun rose above him as he passed Peniel, and he was limping because of his hip.

Thank you

2006-08-31T14:42:00.000-05:00

I hope this doesn't sound cheesy, but I just wanted to take time out to say thank you to the people who read my blog regularly. It means so much to me to know that people (both those I know and those who I don't know) are reading what I write. Especially when so much of it is straight from the bottom of my heart. You don't know how therapeutic this is for me.

If you read my blog regularly and I don't know you in person, I'd love for you to introduce yourself. I realize that many people are just lurkers and don't respond to these kinds of things (I know because I'm often a lurker myself), so I understand if no one responds. But if any of you feel like you would like to say hi, I'd love to hear from you. And if by some wild chance, anything I have written has ever touched you, I'd love to hear that too.

Ok, that's all. Thanks again for reading.

Repentance and lament

2006-08-26T17:05:00.000-05:00

Somewhere I read that repentance and lament always go hand in hand. Repentance either comes before or after lament.

Jesus, be gentle with me, for I am broken and what is left of my heart is so fragile. Speak tenderly to me, for I am a miserable wretch in great need.

Look up, Child. I am here.
Arise and come with Me, for your sins are already forgiven.

Quote of the week

2006-08-24T15:20:00.000-05:00

I'm sorry, I couldn't resist posting this. I came across it on the web today and I thought it was both fitting and funny. Maybe no one else will think so... (so I hope I'm not offending anyone!)

"I must admit that other people's "good news" of pregnancy makes me sad and when they tell me they have good news, I hope that they just saved a bunch of money on car insurance by switching to Geico"

Do not pass me by

2006-08-21T16:14:00.000-05:00

Lately I've felt like the sick person that Jesus passed by on His way to heal others. I see so much healing in the lives of those around me; so many of their prayers answered. God seems to have given so many others abundant love and praise for Himself; an ability to see Him and be touched by Him.

Yet I experience none of this in my own life. I feel overlooked, forgotten, and passed by.
__________________
Pass me not, O gentle Savior,
Hear my humble cry;
While on others Thou art calling,
Do not pass me by!

Savior, Savior,
Hear my humble cry;
While on others Thou art calling,
Do not pass me by!

--Fanny Crosby, 1870

Limits/Lamentations 5

2006-08-17T18:01:00.000-05:00

There is only so much pain that a person can endure. There are limits, and when those limits are reached, something has to change.

I'm starting to feel like the only way to continue going through life is to harden myself and become stoic. Although this is NOT how I normally operate, I feel driven by desperation and almost feel as if I do not have a choice. I just cannot suffer like this daily and survive!

There is only so much pain and heartache that a person can bear!

Remember, O LORD, what has happened to me; look, and see my disgrace.
My inheritance has been turned over to aliens, my home to foreigners.
Those who pursue me are at my heels; I am weary and find no rest.
Slaves rule over me, and there is none to free me from their hands.

Joy is gone from my heart; my dancing has turned to mourning.

Because of these things my heart is faint;
because of these things my eyes grow dim.

Why do You always forget me?
Why do You forsake me so long?

Restore me to Yourself, O Lord, that I may return;
renew my days as of old unless you have utterly rejected me and are angry with me beyond measure.

2006-08-14T08:18:00.000-05:00

O Jesus! though thou wilt not yet come in,
Knock at my window as thou passest by.

--GMD, Thomas Wingfold

The beauty of friends who love us

2006-08-10T09:02:00.000-05:00

A bouquet lovingly pieced together and given to us, along with
individual notes of comfort, on the day our baby was due

Even though our friends can't understand, they really do care.

________________________________________________
Note: this is only one of the many ways we were shown love on that day.

Grief, Wounds and Scars

2006-08-07T08:46:00.000-05:00

Last night I was caught off-guard as a tidal wave of grief swept over me, unannounced. Hundreds of images flooded my mind - images that will never be. Of me holding my son, rocking him, singing to him, changing his diaper, feeding him, loving him. The pain was intense.

I have many wounds. Not just from the last few months but from all the heartache of the last 3 years of my life. The biggest wound is, of course, the loss of my baby boy. I thought I had experienced pain before that, but nothing compared to the intense grief I experienced (and still experience) from losing him.

Wounds tend to heal over time. That is, if they are taken care of. They will eventually go away. But scars don't. They remain forever. Each time I've had a wound, a scar has come up in it's place. I feel so covered in scars I can't see any of myself that I even recognize anymore. My image is marred.

From time to time I have thought about victims of rape and have felt a sort of understanding (in a totally different context, of course) with them. Yes, I realize this is extreme imagery. The main feeling I have been identifying with is violation. I have never felt so violated, so humiliated, so used and tossed away. Not by anyone, but by life. Or by God - but I don't know what I think about that. My innocence has been stolen from me. I will never get it back. That thought is suffocating to me.

I am ruined. The damage is irreparable. I've lost so many pieces of me that I feel as if I am a ghost. A shadow of who I used to be.

Not enough tears

2006-07-29T22:36:00.000-05:00

There are not enough tears to cry away the pain and anguish I feel. Today has been one of my blackest days yet. I sat in a darkened room for what seemed like hours and just cried with great bitterness and sorrow.

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

Whoever said "The Lord is close to the broken-hearted" did not have the faintest idea what he was talking about. Either that or he wasn't truly broken-hearted. Or, perhaps he knew a different God than I do.

Life is bitter. I am a barren wasteland.

Weighed down (again)

2006-07-27T16:17:00.000-05:00

I'm so tired.

And I don't just mean physically.

This burden that I carry is becoming incredibly heavy.

Is there any relief to be found?

2006-07-26T08:37:00.000-05:00

In the midst of pain and heartache, one thing (and maybe only one thing) is certain.

Adam and I are loved.

A Lament for my son on his due date

2006-07-25T08:30:00.000-05:00

Precious Baby, you stole my heart from the minute I knew of you.
Do you know how much you were wanted? Asked for? Cried for? Prayed for?
Do you know how much you were loved? How many people longed to meet you?
You were such an answer to prayer. Darling Baby! You were a gift to me.

Your presence gave me such hope, such joy.
Your daddy and I celebrated your life together.
Thoughts of your arrival were sweet and tender.
Preparations were underway for the big day!

I wondered what you were thinking.
What you would look like,
Who you would take after most.
My bulging belly reminded me that I would find out soon enough!

I was well past the time for common miscarriages: Little One, I knew we had made it.
I saw your picture, heard your heartbeat, felt your movement within my body.
You and I were very close and were always together; never separated.
Beautiful Baby, your daddy and I couldn't wait to meet you!

But we lost you! I gave birth to you, but it was not as I had dreamed.
You were violently ripped from my body, and your life was over before it began.
You were unable to live on your own, apart from me, your momma.
Little One, I am so sorry!

We buried you in the ground,
But you are not there!
Where you are, I cannot go in this life.
The knowledge brings such heaviness.

Sweet Baby - your absence has created a gaping hole in me!
Thought I physically never met you, yet I knew you,
And you changed my life forever.
Little Boy, I will never be the same again because of you!

What cruelty! What injustice! What horror!
Death has taken your life before you even took your first breath!
You deserved a lifetime on earth but this you were denied.
You have been taken from me, and oh! how I grieve for you.

Yet how can I begin to grieve for you when I never even met you?
I have so little left from your existence.
Not much to hold, to look at, to remind me of you.
Not much to show others or to let them see that you were mine.

Oh Baby! I never even got to hold you!
To kiss your forehead, to grasp your hand!
I never got to look you in the eyes
And tell you just how much I love you.

Instead of rocking you to sleep,
It is I who have been rocked -- rocked to the core of my very being!
I am your mother, but we are separated!
How can this be?! It is not right!

Little One, I will mourn you always.
You are a part of me that I have lost--
Things aren't right without you.
Our family will always feel incomplete.

Though I can't remain in this place of desolation forever,
Yet today I choose to remember you.
To love you, to mourn you,
To celebrate you.

Because, My Love, even though you have departed this world,
You are still my son. You have left your footprints on my heart!
And I am proud of your life, no matter how short it was.
YOU are a blessing and I love you.

In loving memory of my son, stillborn at 21 weeks on March 10, 2006

Weighed down

2006-07-24T13:55:00.000-05:00

My heart is heavy and my soul is bitter.

What is normal/Lamentations 4

2006-07-21T08:34:00.000-05:00

What is normal for me?

-Taking my temperature every morning before I get out of bed and trying not to let it set my mood for the rest of the day
-Calling my doctor and my insurance company more often than I call my friends
-Trying to decide what to put on my son’s gravestone and visiting the cemetery where he is buried
-Dreading all pregnancy and birth announcements and baby shower and little kids’ birthday party invitations
-Keeping books on pregnancy loss, infertility, spiritual doubt and disappointment with God among my daily reading material
-Going overboard taking care of my cat since I don’t have a baby to care for
-Having constant bruises on my arm from frequent bloodwork
-Looking at myself in the mirror in disbelief – I don’t even know who I am anymore

How the gold has lost its luster,
The fine gold become dull!
The sacred gems are scattered
At the head of every street.

The Lord himself has scattered them;
He no longer watches over them.

I am blacker than soot;
I am not recognized in the streets.
My skin has shriveled on my bones;
It has become as dry as a stick.

I grope through the streets
Like a man who is blind.
Moreover, my eyes have failed,
Looking in vain for help.

Baby steps

2006-07-19T11:36:00.000-05:00

I'm pretty proud of myself.

Yesterday I held a baby for the first time since I lost my own, over 4 months ago.

And I survived.

The Death Angel

2006-07-17T08:38:00.000-05:00

Written by Sarah New, my great-great grandmother (i.e., my grandmother's grandmother), sometime between 1907 and 1913.

Did you ever have the death angel to knock at the door of your home
And take away some precious loved one, for the angel of death will come
When we started in life together, we were happy because we knew
That God, in his wonderful wisdom, would carry us safely through.

For we trusted his saving power, long, long before we were wed
And we’ll trust him for grace and mercy, till through death’s dark waves we are led
By and by, he gave us four children, to brighten our home here below
They were sweet to us, oh! how we loved them, only fathers and mothers can know.

But the death angel came with his sickle, and took our sweet baby of three
So we bow in humble submission, for God knoweth better than we
And we know that the blessed God giveth, and he also taketh away
And we know when our troubles have vanished, we’ll see her again some sweet day.

So we toil on through trouble and trail, with our humble home breft
For we know that God is righteous, and we have three children left
But alas! again he cometh, with his sickle of death “so keen”
And taketh away another, in the bloom of youth, aged eighteen.

We laid her away in the churchyard, beside “the little one dear”
Close by the old house where we worshipped, and oh! how we miss her here—
Yes, the place where we’ve all met so often, where she so often has sung
God’s praise, as a warning to sinners, “to flee! from the wrath to come.”

My heart almost breaks with these trials, but God’s promise “never” will break
And he said he would be in six troubles, and the seventh he would not forsake
So we’re praying to God our dear father, that we may all be reconciled
For we know not who next will be taken, whether father or mother or child.

But we know that at last “when he cometh,” and the trials of life are all o’er
We will meet with our loved ones in glory, where sickness and death come no more
Where angels are praising “in heaven,” where all the redeemed will sing—
O! grave where is thy victory – O death! where – where is thy sting!

Time out

2006-07-11T11:25:00.000-05:00

Warning: this is going to be a really long post, but I hope that it is worth reading…
____________________
I feel the need to take a “time out” and to write some comments about the direction my blog has taken lately. I am not unaware that often my entries are pretty dark and heavy. This type of writing has been very therapeutic and freeing for me lately. I have particularly given myself freedom to lament and grieve this month, as my original due date is coming up on the 25th, and these days are extra hard. However, it is not my intention to stay here forever. I do not want my blog to be permanently defined by this stage of my life. Only temporarily.

Currently, I have found great relief and comfort using my blog for public lamenting. In other cultures, it is acceptable to grieve and lament in public. Not so in the US. While I want my friends, family & acquaintances to know what I’m thinking, feeling & learning, it is not always socially appropriate to launch into it when I see them. So, this has become my way to share. Again, I don’t always expect to be here. But I’m here now.

There is something else I want to comment on that might shed some light on the tone of my recent posts. Those who know me already know that I naturally have pessimistic tendencies. I think I have gotten better over the years, but a tragedy such as what has happened to me has made it pretty easy to give in to doubt, despair, cynicism, and even bitterness at times. Hope and faith are not easy to come by. As I have studied grief and suffering and the ways Christians (and our culture in general) react to those encountering situations like mine (or much worse), I have become very disturbed at what I find. I am not necessarily saying optimism is bad, but… I think it can be harmful, as it often invalidates suffering. I don’t want to gloss over suffering and pain with the excuse that “the Lord is good and faithful” so everything will ultimately be ok. I think that’s a cop-out and can be harmful to those who are really hurting. Consequently, I tend to react pretty strongly against the view that says I, and others, should just “have more faith” or “count your blessings” or even the old “look on the bright side”. Not that anyone has necessarily said that to me, but the general feeling I get from society is that I should hide my grief – or worse, ignore it and just try to move on. I have a book I’m rereading, called “Empty Cradle, Broken Heart: Surviving the Death of Your Baby.” The author is very strong in saying that people NEED to grieve, they NEED to cry, they NEED to be sad for a time. And there is no time limit to grieving – it takes as long as it needs to. To distract yourself and keep busy, or to just try to tell yourself it wasn’t that bad and to try to move on (that is, going around the grief instead of through it), is actually worse than letting yourself feel the pain. You cannot circumvent grief – it will not go away by ignoring it. I feel very strongly about this. I know that I am made differently than other people, but I just cannot comprehend how someone can go through a death of a loved one and not take the appropriate time to grieve and mourn. How someone can just stuff the feelings and move on is absurd to me. Yet that is what society teaches.

Sorry for being long winded. I guess what I want to say, is that sometimes when I write, I probably do tend to have an “axe to grind” – although I honestly don’t want to come across that way. Since I have problems with the ways many people view suffering, I sometimes let my posts lean a little too far in the opposite direction, if only to make a point. (Again, not to anyone in particular, but just to people in general). I have a message I feel like I want to get out there. This is my way of doing so.

Ok, one more thing. What I write in my posts comes completely from my heart, but it is not a full picture of who I am and what all my days are like. I tend to write entries when I am down. Sometimes some of my best writing comes from the dark places. However, I have decided that perhaps I should reveal the other side of the story.

My days are not all black.

*I am very, very happily married (6 year anniversary on Saturday!) to my best friend in the whole world. I would rather be married to Adam and have no children than someone else and have lots of children.

*I am very thankful for my family, and for Adam’s family – and I love that we are so close to them. They have been wonderful and so supportive to us – an incredible blessing. I would not want to trade families for anything. I love them very much and am so happy that they love each other, too!

*Adam and I have amazing friends. Friends who have not judged us for being where we are. Friends who are endlessly patient and who are committed to loving us and sticking by us no matter how long it takes for us to get through this. I am constantly amazed by this – I think our friends are the exception rather than the rule in today’s world.

*I have a beautiful home that I love. And, because I am not a stay-at-home mom yet and have continued working, my extra income has allowed us to remodel much of the house and purchase new furniture. The extra income also allowed us to go on an awesome trip last month. And, it allowed us to purchase a beautiful piano last fall, which has been so therapeutic for me to play.

*I have a very loving cat who adopted me last fall. Toby is more like a dog than a cat in that he follows me and wants to be around me all the time. He’s very good for my self esteem :)

*While I don’t want to be working, I do have a good job. I’m thankful that my boss has allowed me to work part time – it has been a life saver. I’m also very thankful for the new job Adam will be starting on Monday. This is a great relief for both of us, for him to finally be in a position that seems to fit more of his calling in life.

*I’m extremely happy with my doctor, who has been with Adam and me in this “mess” since last fall. Though he has not been with us for the last few years of our struggling, he has been with us through the worst of it, and he has been incredibly sensitive and kind and very helpful to us as we try to recover and move on.

This “list” is not comprehensive by any means, but I thought it might help to balance out (if only a little bit) some of the more downer posts I’ve been writing lately.

However, despite all these blessings, I daily carry a heavy burden, wherever I go. It is always there, and I am unable to get away from it. It is not only the burden of grief from the loss of my son (and subsequent second miscarriage) but also the burden of my (still) unfulfilled desire to be a mother and raise a family at home (also complicated by a little clinical depression). I know the grief over my son will lessen with time, but grief over still being childless does not lessen with time – on the contrary, it grows stronger. I also hurt, deeply, over the walls that separate me from my friends who are pregnant and have children. I completely acknowledge that I let those walls be there, but I confess I am only doing what I do to survive. I hope that one day I will be able to give back and show them the same grace and compassion that they have shown me.

Suffering sucks, no way around it. But I think that perhaps sometime in the future I, and others, will be able to see some beauty out of the ashes. And I want to share that on my blog when it happens. That’s all.

Darkness in Lamentations 3

2006-07-10T09:46:00.000-05:00

"I am the one who has seen affliction by the rod of his wrath.
He has driven me away and made me walk in darkness rather than light;
indeed, he has turned his hand against me again and again, all day long.
He has made my skin and my flesh grow old and has broken my bones.
He has beseiged me and surrounded me with bittnerness and hardship.
He has made me dwell in darkness like those long dead.
He has walled me in so I cannot escape; he has weighed me down with chains.
Even when I call out or cry for help, he shuts out my prayer.
He has barred my way with blocks of stone; he has made my paths crooked.
Like a bear lying in wait, like a lion hiding,
he dragged me from the path and mangled me and left me without help.
He drew his bow and made me the target for his arrows.
He pierced my heart with arrows from his quiver.
I became the laughingstock of all my people; they mock me in song all day long.
He has filled me with bitter herbs and sated me with gall.
He has broken my teeth with gravel; he has tramped me in the dust.
I have been deprived of peace; I have forgotten what prosperity is.
So I say, "My splendor is gone and all that I had hoped from the Lord."
I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall.
I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me."

At this point, probably those reading this expect me to go into the popular set of verses that follow about God's faithfulness and his mercies that are new every morning and how, despite my trials and sorrows, God is still faithful. But I can't quote those verses - they are unreal to me! I am not experiencing new mercies every morning. I am not experiencing God's faithfulness - in part because I do not even know what it means anymore for God to be faithful.

I suppose the following may come across as quite negative, but really it's just an observation. I find it interesting that most people (myself included) have forgotten about the book of Lamentations, or if they do remember it, they only remember the famous verses "Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." Yet these are only TWO verses out of the entire book. Most of the rest of the book is complete despair and grief and hopelessness. Why do people only look at the "good" or "spiritual" verses and ignore the rest? Are we afraid to acknowledge the "bad" parts, those that utter heart-wrenching and "blasphemous" words against the Lord? I find that disturbing.

For me, I am much more comfortable with the dark places right now, and the words of Lamentations are soothing to read. They are real to me. And I know I am not the only one that needs them. People like me need to be free to embrace the blackness of suffering and despair, when God seems absent. Do not deprive us of that. It is part of the road to healing.

God was much more tolerant of Job's complaints and accusations against Himself than Job's friends were. I think that is significant.

_____________________________________
Edit: Please know that I am not directing this towards anyone, I am simply making a statement.

Celebrating Velvet, Feline Member of the Gilbert Family 1991-2006

2006-07-06T09:31:00.000-05:00

I feel like I've just lost a dear friend.

Yesterday my parents had to put to sleep one of the kitties I grew up with. She has been part of our family since 1991 - a good 15 years. In our family, we get pretty attached to pets, so this has been hard. As I was flipping through my photo albums to find pictures of her, I was reminded how much a part of our family she was – I’d find pictures of her squeezed in between various events, and she would show up in Christmas pictures, birthday pictures, pictures of family gatherings, etc.

She was born when I was in 5th grade. It was my first time to experience being around a litter of kittens, and I loved it. Velvet was actually the runt of the litter, but we decided to keep her anyway.

(Spots on the pictures are glares from the old photo album)

Despite being the runt of the litter, she grew up strong and healthy, and turned out to be a pretty dominant cat, bossing the other cats around for a long time. (We always had at least 2 cats). However, there were moments when we caught her enjoying the company of other kitties.

She loved the outdoors and spent much of her time out there.

She amused us quite a bit:

In the linen closet...

Playing dead on the stairs...

In a duffel bag...

Going for a bike ride...

Up on the ladder...

Cuddling with my stuffed animals...

And her personal favorite - straddling the top of the recliner. The only problem was whenever we sat down in the chair, the top of the chair would rock back and forth and she'd have to hold on so she wouldn't fall!

But this was the best. This is her on my back (I was only 12 here…). She had this weird thing where if you picked her up, she would climb over your shoulder and if you didn’t bend over immediately, she would claw you trying to hang on. So, it kind of became a joke. I’d let her sit on my back from time to time while I bent over ;) Weird cat.

She lived a long, good life. I will miss her lots.

I know that no one really knows what happens to animals when they die, but I have to believe that if there is something worth loving in them, that something must be valuable enough to cross the barrier of death. I hope so.

In loving memory

Velvet, 1991 – 2006

What should have been

2006-07-02T18:47:00.000-05:00

I have entered into the month of July – the month that was supposed to change my life forever.
Instead, my life was changed forever in March when I became a mother to a child in heaven.

Right now, I should have been 37 weeks pregnant.
Instead, I am barren, with no children in sight and an unquenchable desire to be a mother haunting me and even suffocating me.

I should have been having showers and joyfully preparing for my little one with friends and family.
Instead, I am spending time with doctors discussing getting pregnant again and ways to avoid another pregnancy loss in the future, and spending time with counselors to help me cope through such a tragedy.

I should have been fixing up his little nursery and delicately fingering tiny clothes and fuzzy blankets that I would use to wrap him in.
Instead, I try hard not to cry as I walk past baby sections in stores and when I still receive baby ads in the mail and over email.

I should have been sharing the pregnancy with other expecting friends and mothers.
Pain has handicapped my ability to walk among my friends as I once did. It has only been four months, but it might as well have been yesterday. I yearn to be strong enough to be around those expecting and with children but it is not to be. At least, not right now. The wound is too deep.

I should have been reading books on pregnancy, babies, and parenting.
Instead, I am reading books on grief, crisis of faith, and despair.

I should have been visiting my doctor regularly to be checked for signs of labor.
Instead, I am visiting him regularly as a patient with a history of infertility and pregnancy loss.

I should have been able to quit my job and start my dream of being a stay-at-home mom.
Instead, I continue to make myself go to work each day, without any hope of quitting in the near future.

I should have been happily shopping for my son, purchasing items to take care of him and buying him gifts to show my love.
Instead, I am shopping for his grave marker.

I should have been dreaming sweet dreams of holding my son in just a few weeks.
Instead, my dreams are full of painful memories and agonizing hurt as I think about what I have lost. And what should have been.

My son.

To my lover

2006-06-30T08:12:00.000-05:00

Congratulations! On this, your last day at your old job, I want to tell you that I am so proud of you for all your hard work these last two years. You have done well, and I know you will not be easily replaced.

I am so excited for you as you move on to a position that seems to have been created with you in mind. What a wonderful opportunity. I hope it was worth waiting for!

I love you. I will be with you in this new job, supporting you in every way I can.

Congratulations!

Love always,
your beloved

Edit: Sorry for being sappy, but this is just a really, really BIG deal for us!

2006-06-30T07:12:00.000-05:00

Oh Lord, remember me!

Remember me, even as I struggle and strain to remember You!

Lamentations 2

2006-06-28T17:05:00.000-05:00

The Lord is like an enemy;
He has swallowed up Israel.
He has swallowed up all her palaces and destroyed her strongholds.
He has multiplied mourning and lamentation for the daughter of Judah.

My eyes fail from weeping,
I am in torment within,
My heart is poured out on the ground because my children are destroyed.

My wound is as deep as the sea. Who can heal me?

2006-06-22T16:09:00.000-05:00

"If you find God with great ease, perhaps it is not God that you have found."
-- Thomas Merton

I read this quote in "Reaching for the Invisible God" recently and it really comforted me.

Treasures in Lamentations 1

2006-06-20T21:20:00.000-05:00

Bitterly she weeps at night, tears are upon her cheeks. Among all her lovers there is none to comfort her... People have heard my groaning, but there is none to comfort me.

Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by? Is any suffering like my suffering that was inflicted upon me, that the Lord brought on me in the day of his fierce anger? From on high he sent fire, sent it down to my bones. He spread a net for my feet and turned me back. He made me desolate, faint all day long.

The Lord has sapped my strength. He has handed me over to those I cannot withstand... This is why I weep and my eyes overflow with tears. No one is near to comfort me, no one to restore my spirit. My children are destitute because the enemy has prevailed.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
I feel... I feel as though my very faith is slipping through my fingers and I am powerless to stop it.

Over the Rhine, New York City, June 14 2006

2006-06-14T22:19:00.000-05:00

i radio heaven

i get mixed signals

i move the antenna

i switch the channels

i lie in this bed

my satellite dish

is there room in the universe

for one last wish

the wound is deep

i'm just trying to confess it

A note

2006-06-08T14:22:00.000-05:00

There is some discussion going on over on Adam's blog regarding his posts about the "overrated faithfulness of God." I'm not about to join that discussion (at least not at this point) but I just want to say that what he wrote, specifically his entry on 6/5, comes from my heart as well. What he wrote resonated with me so much that I just wanted to say "yes!" outloud. His post means alot to me, because of where I am and what I am going through.

People who read it can take what is said the wrong way, and that is a risk of blogging these kinds of thoughts. And, as Adam said, they are just thoughts. But I think if people remember his heart, and mine, they can better understand where we are coming from and why it is that we need to walk this path.

Our false god has been knocked down and we are left sifting through the pieces to find the real God. Please be patient with us.

The music

2006-06-06T09:24:00.000-05:00

I can't hear the music anymore.

That is one of the quotes from Joyce Landorf Heatherley's Silent September that just really, really resonates with me. I have been disturbed, and even frightened, by the fact that I have not been able to sing to God, for quite some time - even years now. When I've been in the presence of other believers who have wanted to sing, I try, but end up just being silent. Is it because I am too angry with God to sing? Perhaps, but this is not always the case. There are times when I have wanted to sing, have even yearned for it. But I just can't. And now I know why.

I can't hear the music anymore.

It can't rain forever

2006-06-01T14:45:00.000-05:00

Today, as I was reading through a miscarriage support message board, I came across the words “It can’t rain forever.” That put into words a hope that I’ve been carrying for a few years now. I think it’s part of my mind’s way of coping with my seemingly endless heartache. To make myself believe that this can’t go on indefinitely. It has to end some time. Right? Kind of like the statement in my last post about making payments into the I’ve-suffered-enough account. It has to get full at some time, right? Pain has to lose its fury at some point, just like any storm in nature. Right?

Yet, like the author of my last post, I am continually surprised and even amazed at the endurance and intensity of pain. It appears to have no limit, nor does it has respect for human levels of tolerance. I often think to myself: “Why I am so surprised, again and again, at unfairness and injustice in the world?” Why are any of us surprised?? It is nothing new - we have been fighting it since birth. I recently got a call from my mother-in-law, who said it appears she had some sort of a mini stroke that permanently took away some vision in one of her eyes. The doctors are worried it will happen again and attack her other eye. What?? Where did that come from? She’s a healthy person – how could that happen? Again… I am surprised when these things happen. But I am learning that these things – and other things, like my grandfather’s awful death, and my dad’s bout with cancer, and my brother’s hard times, and my beloved friend’s depression, are not interruptions in life. They ARE life.

So why are we still so surprised? A few thoughts come to mind. The first, which is not very original, is that we are fish out of water. We weren’t created for this imperfect world. The reason I am shocked is because this really isn’t how things are supposed to be, so no wonder we are feeling the absurdity of it. We were supposed to be experiencing life altogether differently. It will never, never feel right to us; we will never get used to it. The second thought, actually borrowed from Adam, is that it may be due largely as a result of teachings many of us have received that, in so many words, tell us that, once we are Christians, life will not include the types of suffering and burdens that it does for those who are not believers. And that God is never silent, or hidden, or unfair. You know, the people who only ever talk about victory in Jesus. And who avoid the darkness.

Lately I am finding a need to accept the presence of this darkness. By that I don’t mean embrace it, but I mean to stop fighting against it. I think part of that means taking a hard and fast look at the belief that “it can’t rain forever.” I am beginning to think that maybe… it can. Really. Not for everyone, but maybe for some. Wouldn’t you consider Paul one who experienced a lifetime of rain? That doesn’t mean he didn’t have happy times and blessings, but he lost everything.

When Jesus was on earth, he didn’t heal everyone. It has recently occurred to me as a very real possibility that I may be among those who remain unhealed. From childlessness, that is. Sure, God can heal me, but perhaps the way He will choose to do it is by healing my heart, not my empty womb. Adam and I have discussed altering the direction of our prayers, to some degree. Not that we will no longer ask for children, but that our prayers may be more along the lines of “Help us to live with this” instead of only “Please give us our heart’s desires.” Using the picture of unending rain, the image becomes a prayer of “Since the rain continues, and the floods abound, teach us to swim!” That is a hard change in direction to take. By doing that I face fears that I may resign myself to my greatest nightmare – no children. I know that is not necessarily the case. God could still chose to bless me with children. But there are greater things at stake here. And I do so want to have my hands open when He finally chooses to fill them.

“As surely as the sun rises, He will appear; He will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth.” Hos 6:3

2006-05-29T08:46:00.000-05:00

The following is an excerpt from “Silent September” by Joyce Landorf Heatherley. My initial reaction upon reading it was, I could have written this myself.
----------------------------

Pain has scraped away
the last visible traces of hope
off the edges of my soul.

So begins my personal journey of pain, in the early months of 1982. It continues with,

Naively I always think that pain can do nothing more to me. Yet I am always wrong.

There is a certain amount of head knowledge within me that says someday the Lord, in His mercy, will step in and stop this hideous round of pain, which is attacking on a never-ending basis. Isn’t that what a loving heavenly Father would do? Yet here, in my heart, I cannot see, hear, touch or feel God; and the silence of my life is deadly. God seems to be doing nothing – nothing at all.

Continually I rationalize that after pain has robbed, raped, and smashed the courage and hope out of me, it will have spent its fury – like the last gusts of wind from a retreating thunderstorm. Often I fantasize that since pain has devoured so much of me already, my dues into the I’ve-suffered-enough-account have been paid in full, and there will be no need for further payment. Or, I think, at least pain will lessen the force of its rage and give me some respite from its devastation.

But, it seems I tend to underestimate the enormous penetrating power of pain. I minimize the tenacity of its excruciating grip. Somehow I hold tightly to the crumb of hope which says maybe, just maybe, I’ll be mysteriously and miraculously given the grace and strength of God to go on, in spite of these crushing encounters.

Yet, with each new day pain swoops down like a huge demolition crane, swinging and smashing its steel and concrete ball of destruction against the flimsy walls of my battered body and soul. I’m left shattered, broken, without a shred of hope.

I am no novice in walking the paths of pain. And I am no stranger to climbing the mountains of grief suffering. But this – this I do not understand, for suddenly I am aware that I don’t hear the music anymore.

I’m a nightingale with broken wings. I’m a nightingale without a song. Oh yes, it’s true that I’m a born “night-singer” – one who can sing the sweetest songs of God, even in the darkest dead of night. But now, I don’t hear the music of God or His angels; and I am frightened… alone… and hurting unbearably.

Someone told me today that they see a light at the end of my tunnel of pain. Someone else said that I should rejoice in my “tunnel experience” for tunnels are the only way to get through the mountains to one’s destination. And often, along our journey in life, tunnels provide lessons and opportunities for growth. But, as another friend pointed out, there is a light at the end of my tunnel; however, it happens to be the headlight of a train which is coming straight at me, 100 miles an hour! The only lesson I’m learning here is that I’m going to be flattened like a pancake by this growing “opportunity.” My soul panics at the scenario.

My life is consumed by my search for medical solutions, for emotional enlightenment, and for theological explanations. But answers seem in very short supply. How many more mornings will I wake up hearing David’s words, “This is the day the Lord hath made…” and then feel the icy grip of pain’s reality remind me just what kind of a day it will be?

I am also angry! And not just for me, but for millions of others. This is unfair. It’ s unjust. It’s undeserved!

Is it conceivable that God stands passively by my bed of pain and says, “Of course I can heal you, Joyce, but I wont”? If this is true, then I am going to have a difficult time loving, trusting or accepting this heavenly Father. It seems there is a theory that says God can heal me, but because I am doing something which blocks His will from being accomplished, He won’t. This crushes all hope within me and God begins to sound remarkably like some earthly fathers I’ve observed. Fathers who could say “I love you,” but won’t. Fathers who could affirm and encourage their children, but won’t. This comparison between a heavenly Father and an earthy one becomes increasingly disturbing to me.

Or, does God sit on the edge of my bed when I am writhing in the highest level of pain – just before insanity – when I am crying out to be rescued and, at that fragile moment in time, calmly say, “My child, I want everybody well, including you, but Joyce, you’re doing it all wrong. You need to read the instruction manual. You need to claim the right formula. You need only to follow the ten easy steps to healing”?

On the other hand, would the God I love and serve be chastising me by allowing this pain? Is He teaching me a lesson? What kind of father punishes his child when the child is not disobedient? What kind of father goes on teaching a painful lesson long after the child has learned it?

I don’t know where to turn for help anymore. The darkness is too deep, and the God-silence is too great. I am isolated, lonely, untouchable. Worst of all, because I can’t hear the music of God anymore, I feel like an abandoned orphan. Maybe someday someone will come along and rescue me, adopt me, and hold me in their arms of love until the pain subsides. But who? I’ve sung and written the music of God for thousands of others. Won’t anyone now sing for me? Won’t anyone bind up what pain has broken and help me hear the music once more?

Another miscarriage

2006-05-27T12:16:00.000-05:00

My puzzle has been knocked off the table again. Not only that, but many of the pieces have been thrown away. I'm not going to be able to put it back together again.

I'm tired of contributing to the nursery in heaven!!!!

That makes TWO babies in heaven, and ZERO babies here on earth with me.

I'm sorry but I'm just a LITTLE angry about this!

10 things I love about my husband

2006-05-23T08:58:00.000-05:00

1. His ability to relax and have fun without neglecting responsibility
2. His tenderness and sensitivity towards me
3. His dry sense of humor and his ability to be more silly than anyone would guess
4. His passion for what really matters
5. His desire to take care of things - our house, yard, possessions, personal appearance, etc
6. His love for others and his ability to encourage those who come into contact with him
7. His love of books and his never-ending desire to learn new things (including physical things like learning the piano)
8. His amazing love for me - the intensity of which has surprised us both
9. His friendship, which is mine forever
10. His smile, which can still make my heart skip a beat

Happy Mothers Day

2006-05-14T21:31:00.000-05:00

(Copied from the Hannah's Prayer message boards)

Dear Mommy, heaven is great. I can do all kinds of things I couldn't do on earth... and I am healthy and strong and happy.

I sit with Jesus in the afternoons and he tells me stories. Sometimes he tells me about you. Funny stories about when you were a little girl. Sometimes he tells me how much you love me, how much you wanted me to live with you on earth. Other times he takes me swimming or plays with me.

I love to get tickled. I laugh so loud you can hear me all over heaven. I love to worship. I sing and dance and paint. Jesus says my art is so beautiful. He says I got my talents from you and Daddy.

I'm not sad, but I miss you. I miss hearing your heartbeat. I know who you are. You are my mommy and I love you. Happy Mother's Day. I have to go now, time to have lunch with my friends. If you listen, maybe you can hear me laughing.

Jigsaw Puzzle

2006-05-08T13:22:00.000-05:00

I'm stealing the following analogy from a book I'm reading, although I've rephrased it in my own words.

Grief is like being forced to put together a gigantic jigsaw puzzle. It takes lots of time, endless energy and patience, concentration, and lots of help. Most of the time it is very frustrating, and it's the last thing you want to be doing with your time. Sometimes there may be rewarding moments, when you can start to see some of the big picture. The majority of the time, though, it's simply too overwhelming, and you wouldn't be working on it except for the fact that you are forced to. You want to walk away from it, but you can't. You don't have a choice. The puzzle is your life, and you cannot ignore it and let it stay in shambles.

There are many times where you feel like you are beginning to place pieces together that fit and are perhaps even making some progress, but then it is as if someone comes and knocks your puzzle onto the floor, and all the pieces come apart and are scattered (some may even become forever lost underneath furniture). This happens not only once, but sometimes weekly, sometimes daily. Imagine having to pick up the pieces of this gigantic puzzle and start all over, again and again and again. Sometimes you're just too tired to work on it, but if you don't pick up the pieces, you have a mess on your floor.

After this happens so many times, you may begin to identify certain pieces that fit together quicker than you did at first, so putting the puzzle back together may not be quite as labor intensive as it was originally. Perhaps even some of the pieces stick together after they fall off the table and you don't have to redo that part of the puzzle.

But not for me. For me, the entire puzzle is sent flying into the air, and I'm left to start over from scratch, each time. Again. There is no worse feeling, nothing else that sends me into despair quite like this.

O God, have mercy. Remember me!

Forgotten

2006-05-05T08:08:00.000-05:00

How long, O Lord, HOW LONG?

Remember me!

Remember me, that I may remember You.

Please don't make me sing this song

2006-05-03T12:11:00.000-05:00

By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept
when we remembered Zion.
There on the poplars, we hung our harps,
For there our captors asked us for songs,
our tormentors demanded songs of joy;
they said, "Sing us one of the songs of Zion!"

How can we sing the songs of the Lord
while in a foreign land?

Forsaken

2006-04-25T11:23:00.000-05:00

How long, O Lord, how long?

My eyes are a river of tears
My fists are clenched in pain
My heart bleeds uncontrollably
My chest constricts, I cannot breathe
My head throbs with the reality of it all
My mind is numb, my body is exhausted.

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

2006-04-18T19:42:00.000-05:00

I'm sorry in advance for posting this, but it's honestly how I feel.

Life SINCERELY sucks.

That's all.

A letter

2006-04-06T20:43:00.001-05:00

Dearest little one,

I miss you so. You were such a part of me, although I never knew you. We spent five months doing everything together – eating, sleeping, going to work, taking walks, seeing friends and family. I played music for you on the piano as often as I could. Your daddy and I had such hopes and dreams for you, and were anxiously counting down the days til we could meet you. Remember how you waved to us when we saw you on the sonogram? Oh darling, how we wanted you!

But you were taken from us, precious little one. We would have done anything in the world to save you if we could have. I mourn the loss of your life and the emptiness your death has left in your daddy and me. You can never know the depth of our hurt and grief over losing you, nor the great love we will always have in our hearts for you.

I do not understand why we have been separated – I don’t think I will ever know. At times my tears seem endless, but, sweet son, I hold onto the hope that I will hold you someday, in heaven.

Until then, all my love,
Your mommy

2006-03-11T10:52:00.000-06:00

Oh boy!

2006-02-25T23:16:00.000-06:00

Frogs and snails and puppy dog tails... that's what little boys are made of!

Article

2006-02-17T09:31:00.000-06:00

I'm going to pull an "Adam" and post a link to an article that I think is interesting. It addresses the Ephesians passage about husbands and wives, and submission and sacrifice. I found it very interesting, enlightening, and worth my time reading. Feel free to comment/not comment on it... I don't expect a lively debate like on Adam's blog, but if you have something you want to say, go ahead :)

Bridging the Ephesians 5 divide

PS - I borrowed this link from Christy Correll's blog - just wanted to give her the credit for finding the article!

10 inches gone... forever...

2006-02-13T15:47:00.000-06:00

Ok, for those who don't see me on a regular basis, here is a picture of the haircut I got last Thursday. I don't know if I'd call it "drastic", but I did cut 10 inches off, so maybe it does qualify as drastic!

And thanks to Mary's influence, I donated it this time, to Locks of Love. (Not that I hadn't wanted to dontate it the last few times I cut off that much, but I just never thought to do it before).

Um... I guess that's all for now. The only other "big" news in the Moore household is that we now have a wooden privacy fence around our yard (well, around 2 sides of our yard -the white picket fence is still on the one side). I should have taken pictures of this too, so I could post. Oh well. Many thanks to our brother-in-law Matt, whose company did an awesome job and gave us a really good deal, too!

2006-02-07T08:12:00.000-06:00

Congratulations to Adam for his team's win at the Superbowl! He has waited for this his whole life (literally) - as the last time the Steelers won the Superbowl, he was just 2 days old...

So... can you see our little one wearing one of these next football season?

Or, even better:

2006-02-01T10:43:00.000-06:00

So, the bad news is I've been down with the flu since Friday (although I'm definitely on the mend now), but the good news is Adam and I get to find out whether we're having a boy or a girl in just 3 weeks! We go in for a sonogram on Feb 21st...

In other news, I had a massive tangle war with my hair the other day, and am at my wits' end. The day is coming where the scissors are going to be beckoned... and it may be sooner than you think... :)

More random happenings

2006-01-24T11:51:00.000-06:00

I'm wearing my first piece of maternity clothes, today (black dress pants, for those who are wondering...)

I tried out Rosa's Tortilla Cafe Factory or whatever it's called last night. It was good and I will definitely go back but it did not satisfy my cheese enchilada crave. I mean they were good enchiladas but not up to my standards. Still, I really enjoyed the food. And I enjoyed visiting with friends. There were many of my friends who met me there who are already moms and they shared lots of helpful advice with me concerning baby budgeting and what to buy/not to buy and register for/borrow.

Adam refused to eat our left over chicken/cheese/macaroni casserole last night while I was out at Rosa's so now I will eat it for lunch. I refuse to waste food! ;) (And, it's still good. I always play it safe with leftovers).

The other day I decided it's time to buy some new (eye) glasses. The ones I have are from 1999 and aren't as fashionable as they were when I first bought them. And, my prescription has changed slightly since then. Normally I don't care - I just wear them at night after I get ready for bed, but I figured I might want to wear them more often after the baby's born. Who wants to mess with contacts when you're sleep schedule is going to be screwed for who knows how long?

Yesterday I had an exciting interaction with a faculty member at my job who played the role of a 2 year old. Nice. I had to stop myself to say in wonder and disbelief - "did you really just say that??" Also, I had a new student worker who completely didn't show up for his shift. I gave him a whole day to contact me and tell me how he was in this awful car accident and his phone was crushed so he couldn't call, etc etc, but no word from him. One more strike and he's out. I'm sorry folks but this is a real job. You don't just not show up and not call and get away with it.

Some of you know that Adam and I live in the North Pole over at 4201 Sanger. (At least, that's what it is in the winter. In the summer, it's the Sahara Desert). Anyway, after keeping our heat at 68 degrees (which should be sufficient, but not at our house!) and still receiving a $200 gas bill, we decided it was time to buy a portable heater. So we bought a nice one at Lowes - the only one that looked child-safe to us (all the rest get too hot for a kid to touch after it's been on awhile but this one doesn't). Anyway this one has a thermostat and a remote and you can even use a timer on it. We have used it in our bedroom at night and in the living room in the evenings and it makes SUCH a difference! I don't have to go to bed wearing sweats and 2 pairs of socks and mittens! Wow, we should have bought this a long time ago. Our only hope now is that whatever we might save with lower gas bills doesn't balance out with higher electric bills for running this electric heater for hours on end ;)
(Side note: I'm sure the above paragraph was fascinating to read. I just couldn't resist sharing. After knowing that there was nowhere in my daily life where I could warm - cold in my office at work, cold outside, freezing at home - feeling some warmth in our home is very exciting to me!)

I'm going to go visit my grandmother today in the nursing home she's at here in Waco. I try to go about once a week to see her. After all, she must get pretty lonely and bored and it's the least I can do. She only lives a few minutes from my house. She's doing well and is much more mentally alert and seems more herself than she did several months ago. But, still, I don't look forward to going. I don't enjoy the nursing home environment, and I don't like seeing her "reduced" to this. It is just sad. And it makes me miss my grandfather (speaking of which, the other night my family watched some home movies from when I was a baby and there was a shot of my grandfather holding me... very sweet). But anyway, still I make myself go to see her. And you know what, I'm almost always glad that I did. In fact I think I am always glad that I went, after I go. She enjoys seeing me and we have a good visit. It is a good thing. So, even though I usually don't want to go, I'm glad I do.

That's it for now.

Nothing's coming to me!

2006-01-11T10:08:00.000-06:00

I've been wanting to post again for awhile now, but absolutely nothing is coming to me! I keep thinking I'll come up with this wonderful post, but no...

Wanna see more random pictures? :)

This is the house I grew up in. I really miss it.

Friends in Chicago :)

Random nitrogen tank in the streets of downton Kansas City...

Gazebo outside my dorm at UMHB where I spent alot of time...

Rishi and Amanda playing a silly game at their baby shower a few years ago (hope they don't mind me posting this!) If I remember right, I think the object was for them to get as many cotton balls from the glass jars to the bowls next to them using a spoon - but they had to do it blindfolded. And since cottonballs dont weigh anything, it was a little difficult to tell if they had any on the spoon!

Really cute picture of Halle & Chloe a few years ago...

Our living/dining room with no furniture in it... (this was after we painted it and had the wood floor redone)

A Quaker meeting house in Philadelphia. As Adam and I were walking toward it, the doors were open with a sign that said "Open - visitors welcome." Then right as we turned in to go down the sidewalk to the front door, someone came out, removed the sign, and shut the door. The timing was almost as if they saw us coming, and then shut the door on us. I didn't feel so welcome!

I have no idea whose cat this is, or even where I got this picture. But I think it's funny!

Ok, it won't let me post any more pictures, so I guess I'll stop. Sorry for the lack of anything interesting to say lately...

Oh yeah

2005-12-29T15:51:00.000-06:00

I forgot, I was supposed to "tag" 5 people to also share 5 weird habits/characteristics. So, Adam, Amy, Aaron, Jackson, and Kim Jones, tag, you're it! :)

5 things...

2005-12-20T08:57:00.000-06:00

Ok, so awhile back I was tagged by drmeans to post 5 weird habits/characteristics of myself. I know I'm quite weird, but it took some time to come up with the following items. Sorry for the delay, dr means. Here you go:

1. I am pretty much anti-condiment. I dislike ketchup, mayonaise, mustard, barbeque sauce, salad dressing, etc. My husband is also bewildered that I love peanut butter but hate peanuts! (rather, all nuts). I say it's no different from those that love ketchup but hate tomatos, but he says it's different.
2. I dislike belly buttons very much. I don't know why or when it started, but it makes me squeamish.
3. I have never had cable TV - ever. I was going to post instead that I went without having a TV for two years in college, but Adam though it was more impressive to go without having cable for a lifetime than going without a TV for a few years. Whatever.
4. I have been accused of treating my cat like a human being. I admit I do fall into the trap of anthropomorphism - that is, assigning human characteristics (and even speech) to animals. However, my excuse is that I'm practicing for taking care of our future child. Or something.
5. I am at the same time both a neat freak and a complete slob. Also, I highly value being on time but am often late. How I've managed to pull off having these contradictory characteristics, I don't know, but it sure creates a lot of havoc in my life!

There... how's that? I hereby authorize anyone else that thinks of anything else weird about me to add to my list. I know there's more... I am weird, I just can't think of any more examples :)

2005-12-08T09:07:00.000-06:00

So... do you think Baby looks more like Adam or me? ;)

Ok, Ok, Ok!

2005-12-01T09:39:00.000-06:00

So I've been told that ERAS HAVE GONE BY since I last updated... and it's true. I guess I just really haven't had much to say lately! Sorry guys. How about I post some (really) random pictures?

Isn't this cool? This is the little theater in the small country town my dad grew up in. I love that it's called the Majestic! Funny story: My dad told me that when he was a kid, the theater didn't have air conditioning, and so they would leave the doors/windows open for air. Well, directly in front of the theater is a train track, and anytime a train came by during a movie showing, they would have to stop the movie until the train had passed (because it was SO loud), sometimes several times during the movie! (He said this also happened at his school, which was on the other side of the street... the teachers would have to stop teaching for several minutes each time the train went by).

Isn't this cute? I took this picture at the Botanical gardens in Chicago this summer...

Adam and I took a recent vacation to San Antonio. No, this is not where we stayed. But I took this picture because I thought it was hilarious that underneath the sign that says "Hotel Robert E. Lee" it says "Air Conditioning." (And on the other side of the hotel it says "100% Air Conditioning"). I know it's hard to see from the picture, but it really does say that! How long now has AC been standard in public buildings and hotels?? :)

Adam and me at the new Bear Pit...

Family picture from Thanksgiving this year...

My wacky sister-in-law...

My desk at work... (in case you were wondering where I do all my blogging...)

Adam's desk at work, where he does NOT do his blogging...

Isn't this pretty? This is right outside of Canton, near my grandmother's grave.

My little cousins (actually I think technically they're first cousins once removed or something like that)

Adam and his cousin Victoria last summer at his sister's wedding...

Adam the weekend before our wedding... (actually I don't know if this actual picture was taken then but he did go cliff jumping the weekend before our wedding. I could just see him hobbling down the aisle on crutches...)

This is the actual ship where "Master and Commander" was filmed. We got to go on it when we were in San Diego last year.

Ok, it won't let me post anymore pictures, so I guess I'll stop now. I'll do some other random picture posting at another time when I have nothing else to say. That's all folks.

Eras gone by

2005-11-04T21:22:00.000-06:00

In the last 2 weeks I have visited the hometowns of both my parents - towns that I will probably not visit very often anymore, if ever, as none of my grandparents live there anymore (two of my three grandparents have recently died and the last one lives in Waco now). I hadn't been to my mom's hometown in 10 years and it was a little emotional going back, since the last time I was there my grandfather was living.

I admit I am probably odd in that I like to dwell on these things more than most people. I am way too sentimental about eras gone by. And since the death of these two grandparents I really have turned into a family history freak. I love hearing stories and reading old letters and seeing old pictures of family members. I can't help it... since I lost my grandfather (mom's dad) and grandmother (dad's mom), these places where my parents grew up and were nurtured are alot more special to me than ever before. Kind of in the same way it is that sometimes you don't realize how much you love someone until they're gone.

They are places that I used to visit as a kid, but no longer have a reason to anymore. I am sad to close this chaper in both my life and that of my parents', but I think instead of dwelling on memories and the past that I have tried to learn so much about, I should instead share a little something which I have only started to grasp in the last year.

These places have shown me something important. They are part of who my parents are. My parents are people independent of me. My mom is not just my mom, she is her own person and she existed before me. I know this sounds silly, but how many of us think of our parents as individuals in their own right without thinking about them in relation to ourselves? I mean, just in referring to them as Mom & Dad, we can easily forget that they too have names, feelings, dreams and desires, disappointments, and a past that does not include us at all. I'm not advocating children calling their parents by their real names, and I'm not saying we should stop viewing our parents in relation to ourselves. All I wanted to say is that it's very easy to forget that they're real people too, just like you and me.

I hope this post is not cheesy. I tried hard to leave out the cheese and just share what I was thinking. So thanks for reading. And here's to Mom and Dad. You are both beautiful people and I'm so blessed to be a part of your lives.

PS This is a picture of my parents at the front of the church where they were married 32 years ago.

Introducing... Toby the cat

2005-10-24T11:01:00.000-05:00

So, he just showed up on my deck last week and was just the friendliest cat I'd ever been around. He did not hesitate to follow me around and jump in my lap the first time I sat down. And he purrs like nobody. I thought perhaps he would be a new neighborhood friend, like the other cat (Lillie) that visits me from time to time. However, it appears he is not owned by anyone, and he was obviously very hungry. I held out a whole day to see if he'd leave the house and go somewhere else, but he refused to leave our deck. After 24 hours of his heart-breaking cries of hunger, I gave in and fed him. Next came the little cat shelter (the temperature was in the 30s last night!!) and next comes the vet. You know how they say that sometimes animals end up adopting you and you don't have a say in the matter? That's kind of what happened here. I really had no intention of adopting a cat right now. Isn't he beautiful? I love him so much. Already.