Into the Beautiful

On the day that I found out that baby b, Cayden, had died, I remember driving out of the hospital lot in sort of a stunned silence. It was before I knew they were girls, had ever heard of TRAP, or even imagined that things would not continue normally. All I knew was that I had two babies and lost one. I called Paul and told him. I went to my parents to pick Mia up and told them. As I was driving home from there, I remember being stopped at a train. I looked down at the seat next to me and picked up the ultrasound picture – it showed both babies. I turned on the radio because the silence of my thoughts was just too much. The first song that came on had a chorus with the words….

"Take me into the beautiful."

As I looked at that ultrasound and saw the twins and heard that phrase repeated in the song, the tears finally came. I immediately had the image of my baby being brought into the beautiful, into heaven. Running into the arms of her Creator. Of her heavenly maker. And it was beautiful. Heartbreaking but beautiful.
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I had a dream last night that I was having another routine ultrasound. I was laying there, belly exposed, jabbering away about something unimportant and irrelevant. Until I caught the look in the technician’s eyes as she searched the screen. It took me a few moments too long to recognize that my biggest fear was being realized. I too looked at the screen and saw the beautiful shadow of my baby. Laying perfectly still. Too still. I saw her profile, her chest, her belly and her legs. And there, where the pumping heart should be, typically the most re-assuring piece of information on the screen, was pure stillness. Blackness.

In the next scene, I was driving out of the parking garage listening to the static of the radio get clearer and clearer as I reached ground level. Then, as I pulled out of the garage and into the light, the radio station picked up the signal and I heard that familiar song again. Take me into the beautiful. And this time, Cayden was there to greet Summer into heaven.

I woke up feeling very disturbed. Anxious. Spooked. It was one of those dreams that was a little too real. Like when you dream that your husband was mean to you and you wake up hurt. And you stay mad at him even though you know it was just a dream. But it was just so real that the feelings linger. That’s how this was. I woke up and laid there with my hands on my belly waiting for the kicks of reassurance and for my heart rate to steady. Once both happened, I had to mentally replace my panic with the truth.

It was a dream. Summer is alive and doing great. It was just a dream. Only 4 months to go and this will all settle down. It was just a dream.

And dreams aren’t real. But they do represent real things. Real feelings. Real ideas. Real fears. And I happen to be an excellent dream interpreter. Well, I think so anyways. And I think Paul would agree. (Although when I just asked him if he thought so he laughed and said ‘it’s always entertaining’. Hmm.) Either way, I also love what Sigmund Freud has to say about dream interpretation. In fact, that’s where my love affair with dreams began – high school English class.

My teacher was very unique and somewhat off center and I think that’s what made him so interesting. (He was also the only teacher in my entire educational career that ever sent me and a friend to the Deans office for talking during class. Maybe that’s why I think he’s off center.). Anyways, he was an interesting teacher so the topics he taught on were interesting and one of those topics was Freud and dream interpretation. I really became interested in why we dream what we dream. Of course much of it has to do with what’s going on in our lives, what inputs we’ve had lately (ie what we have seen, read or talked about), and our subconscious.

Whether or not I actually know how to interpret a dream with any accuracy, this last dream was easy to decipher…

Recently, my sister in law gave me the book Heaven Is for Real. It’s about a boy who died in surgery, went to Heaven and then lived to tell about it. He was only 4 and much of the stuff he began to describe in the months after his surgery made it clear that he couldn’t have made it up. (If you’re going to read the book, you can skip to the next paragraph so that I don’t ruin a part for you). One of those things was meeting a sister he never knew he had. Here's an excerpt...

One day Colton said, “Mommy, I have 2 sisters. You had a baby die in your tummy, didn’t you?”

“Who told you I had a baby die in my tummy?” Sonja said, her tone serious.

“She did, Mommy. She said she died in your tummy.”

Sonja slid off the couch and knelt in front of Colton. I knew what my wife must be feeling. Losing that baby was the most painful event of her life. We explained it to Cassie, she was older. But we hadn’t told Colton, judging the topic a bit beyond a 4 yr olds capacity to understand.

“What was her name?”

“She doesn’t have a name. You guys didn’t name her.”

How did he know that?

“You’re right Colton,” Sonja said. “We didn’t even know she was a she.”

Then Colton said something that still rings in my ears:
“Yeah, she just can’t wait for you and daddy to get to heaven.”

When Colton left the room, the tears spilled over. We had wanted to believe that our unborn child had gone to heaven. Though the Bible is largely silent on this point, we had accepted it in faith. But now we had an eyewitness; a daughter we never met was eagerly waiting for us in eternity.” (Heaven is for Real by Todd Burpo)

Wow. That’s amazing. Makes you think about so many things – miscarriage, abortions, heaven. It’s obviously why I dreamed about Summer going to heaven and meeting her sister.

Sometimes the phrases we use about death and loss are clichés. But most of them are still true. We just don’t like to hear them because they don’t really make us feel better. He’s in a better place. She’s shining down on you. He’s your guardian angel (ok, that one might not be true, I’m not sure it says anywhere that WE turn into angels when we die). But one thing that we should not consider a cliché is the idea, or the reality rather, of Heaven.

Heaven is not a romanticized place that we tell kids that their pet hamster went to. Saying that the baby you lost is up in heaven is not just a sweet idea to make you feel better. It’s the truth. It is very much a reality. Like the title of the book says, Heaven is for Real.

Heaven is very real.

And I can honestly say that Cayden is in heaven with Ethan. And Tiffany. And Virginia. And Abigail. And your 11 embryos. And all the other babies that you’ve all told me about that were never named.

And they are there together with Jesus. And even as our arms long to hold them, and we feel as though we have been robbed of our babies, we know deep down that they are in arms even more loving than our own.

They have been taken from us, yes.

But, they have been taken into the beautiful.

Picture Perfect

It’s Wednesday and I spent the morning running errands and keeping busy prior to my doctors appointment. All the while I was keeping track of the movement in my belly. Ensuring that it was constant. That I could feel her twirl and kick and spin. My plan was to be able to confidently go into my appointment knowing that the heart beat would be there. And it was. In fact, the appointment itself was encouraging.

Baby b is there but just kind of in the background - not growing, not getting smaller. Summer is doing well and the high risk doctors said I don’t necessarily need to see them every week if my regular doc would take me back. That I would continue with them for ultrasounds but see my regular doctor for prenatal visits. However, they warned, it’s possible that your regular doctor won’t want to take you back because of how complicated this pregnancy started out as.

That kind of sums up this whole pregnancy – being somewhere in the middle. Not being totally high risk anymore but not low risk either. Not quite out of the woods but not quite in imminent danger either. The fluid on the brain could be this or that or it could be nothing. I’m just somewhere in the middle. And that’s a hard place to be. In fact, God himself even says not to be in the middle. Not to be on both sides of the fence. Pick a side and go with it. That’s better than just being lukewarm.

In these situations I can’t even pick a ‘side’ because I have been placed in the middle. But here, in the middle, I can choose what to focus on. And instead of focusing on what might be, I need to focus on what is. What I know to be already true. Not what the possibilities are but what is real today. Right now.

At this moment. Today, I have a husband. A daughter. Am pregnant. Have a job. A family. And way too much more to list. Those are things I can focus on.

A friend told me recently that she lost a twin. And at the unexpected times, that twin surfaces in her heart. When she sees her daughter dancing in front of the mirror – she thinks of the twin there. That’s what the 2 of them would have looked like together. When she sees her 2 boys and her daughter in the rear view mirror, she thinks of the twin and what it would have been like. But she also said something encouraging – when she sees her family portrait, it’s picture perfect. It’s just as it should be - nothing is missing.

That sentiment really touched me somewhere deep inside. It was that reminder that while the what could have been’s and the what should have beens can be so powerful in our minds, the WHAT IS, is what matters. It’s what counts. It’s what’s real.

My family portrait, if and when we have Summer, will look exactly as it should look.

My family portrait right now; me, Paul and Mia, looks exactly as it should.

Because it's what is.

And it's picture perfect.

Headlights

Life’s a journey, not a destination – that’s a line from an Aerosmith song that I loved in high school. (Ok fine, I still love it.) It’s also a common sentiment – that the journey we are on is what counts, not so much reaching the destination. Of course, that is a bit of a cliché and kind of devalues the goal in mind. But it does remind us that the changes that take place in us on the journey are important. Are irreplaceable.

But truth be told, we are a society that focuses on the destination. On getting from point A to point B. Sometimes literally, as in when sitting in traffic, point B really IS our only goal. But even within personal goals – getting a certain degree, a certain job, achieving something specific etc; these are all point B’s in our life that we work so hard to get to. For some of these things, the journey IS the best part. Take College for example – hands down, the best part of college for me was the journey. Those 4 years in Iowa City - meeting lifelong friends, creating memories that will literally last me a life time, and becoming much of the person I am today (which includes making some major mistakes – but it’s all part of who I am now). Oh, and learning a thing or two as well. Go Hawkeyes.

But in other situations, point B becomes more important to us than the journey. Grad school often becomes about that degree. The job that comes with it. The promised life of fortune and success. Or marriage – it has the expectation of a lifetime of love and happiness. Or having a baby; if we can just attain these goals... but no one told you that the journey included such hard work and sacrifice. For grad school, marriage and parenting. And when too much focus is put on point B, we are just setting ourselves up for disappointment. What if you don’t get a job offer after grad school and are left with nothing but debt? Or your marriage is way harder than you expected? Or you can’t ever get pregnant? Then what? Then you become riddled with bitterness because point B, and all it’s heightened it up to be, failed you.

But what about the times that we don’t know even what point B is? It’s one thing to know what your goal is and fail to achieve it (often by no fault of our own), but it’s another thing to not even know what you are heading towards. How can we enjoy this journey of life if we don’t know where we are going? But I think there ARE times in our lives when we don’t know where we are going. And that’s a hard place to be. Not only do we want to know what point B is so that we can get there, but we also want to know the exact distance, how long its going to take, how much it’s going to cost and what the weather is like there. We want the details.

Unfortunately, God doesn’t work that way. I say unfortunately but I’m sure God would say ‘fortunately.’ (if I can speak for God, which I probably shouldn’t). God doesn’t always show us the whole path. He doesn’t give us a nicely lit map. But he does give us His words. His promises. There are some Bible verses that I grew up learning but never really thought about. I mean really thought about. One of those is a song as well (I can’t read the verse without humming the tune...)

Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.

It’s simple. It’s powerful. And the imagery is actually pretty cool. It makes me think of a cold, dark, fall night. No lights outside. But I have a lantern. A little lamp that I can hold at my feet. And it gives me just enough light to take my next step. And the next one. And the one after that. Eventually, this light has provided guidance for my entire path. From A to B. It’s all I need. Like headlights.

“Headlights have the purpose of illuminating the road ahead during periods of low visibility, such as darkness or precipitation.” (Wikipedia)

Isn’t that what God’s light (ie directions and guidance) is for? Especially during times of low visibility, when we are blind with sorrow, confusion, pain, bitterness, anger or whatever other emotion we all have felt? And during times of precipitation – when the storms of life are pouring down on us? Unemployment, illness, pregnancy woes, and so much more? Sometimes I not only want to be in a car with bright headlights but I even want to put on one of those helmets that literally has a light shining out of it, like miners have. Seriously! I might look strange but at least I would be able to see where I’m going! One of my favorite authors reminds me that we don't need to see the whole path...

It’s like driving a car. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.” You don’t have to see where you are going, you don’t have to see your destination or everything you will pass along the way. You just have to see two or three feet in front of you.” (Bird by Bird, Anne Lamont)

Sometimes we know what point B is. We see it in the distance. Like Las Vegas – all lit up and beckoning us. And it provides that goal to work towards. Like a North star. But sometimes, all we have in the darkness are headlights – just enough light to get us safely to the next step. And while it’s sufficient, it takes faith. It takes trust.

“The most direct route between point A and point B on your life journey is the path of unwavering trust in Me.” (Jesus Calling Devotional)

By going off track, creating my own path lighted with my ideas, I’ll just be taking the long way. And it’s not the scenic route. Trust me, I’ve taken it many times before. But that verse, that quiet verse that speaks about lighting our path. It’s something to take note of. It’s worth holding onto that lantern in the middle of a world that can be so filled with darkness. It’s comforting to know that there is just enough light for my next steps. And that my footing will be secure on that path because He is leading. And I know He’s not going to lead me down the wrong path.

We don’t want to go overboard on either the journey or the destination. A little balance, a little focus on what’s important is needed. But maybe the focus shouldn’t be on either of those. Maybe its just on the next step.

Right now Paul and I don’t know what our point B is. But we know that we are on a lighted path. The whole thing isn’t lit up; just enough to keep moving forward. Sometimes slowly, but the speed is not important anyways. In times of low visibility and precipitation, slowly is probably best. It’s probably the only way that we will be able to learn from this part of the journey. By slowly but surely, taking one step at a time. By allowing God to light our path with his promises. Not focusing on point B. Or even the journey. But just on the next step.

God’s Word, His promises – they are my miner’s hat.

They are my lantern.

They are my headlights.

Life Out Loud

When we hear about people in the public eye being exposed for some character flaw, we immediately pass judgment. How could they do that? How could they live a lie like that? We shake our heads and snub our noses. But if those flaws are exposed by they themselves, if there is no attempt to hide them, we seem to be more sympathetic to them.

It’s easy to choose to expose just one part of your life. To offer that part up, even in complete vulnerability, as long as the other parts remain protected. We can show weakness in 1 area but that’s all. However, I have been feeling lately like that is also like living a lie. It’s like the Pastor who counsels people on the freedom of life with God but then is addicted to gambling (or whatever else) behind closed doors.

That’s kind of how I have felt lately. I decided to make my blog public because selfishly, I wanted prayer. And then it became healing for me to write. And then I started to hear about how it was helping other people. All reasons I continue to write about my pregnancy. But it’s just a portion. Just a sliver of my life.

The events of the last 20 weeks have really allowed me to dissect certain parts of my thought processes, my inner workings, and have brought me to a place of peace. Of trust. Of awareness. But perhaps only within that sliver. And if it seems like I have learned these lessons in their entirety, nothing could be further from the truth.

I was in the car today, driving with tears streaming down my face. I was angry. I was hurt. And I was pregnant (translated: emotional). And I had the fleeting thought that I needed to write down my emotions because that helps me sort them. And just as quickly, the next thought was but not in the blog, this one is for my private journal. But that struck a chord in my soul. It was like God saying, Why? Why is this private? This is real. This is life. This is what you are saying that you want to share. So share it.

Ok. So here goes.

I got in a fight with Paul today. I guess I should say that I might have been a bit stressed because it’s Wednesday (ie ultrasound day). And I’m pregnant which means I cry easily. And I cry easily anyways. And I might have been a tad emotional. So I may have instigated it. Especially when you compare my husband who is possibly the most level headed, easy going, non reactive, person you have ever met. And as marriage would have it, that is one of the things I love most about him. And the thing that drives me crazy. All at the same time.

I guess you need some background info. I never found this to be pertinent information so I have never shared it; it really never had anything to do with the pregnancy. But since this blog has become bigger than my pregnancy, here is some context for the last 20 weeks…

On July 12th, we got home from Sweden. We were energized. Excited about what we experienced there and ready for the next step in our lives whatever that might be.

On July 13th, Paul found out that he was laid off from his job. One of his favorite jobs that he has ever had. One that matched perfectly with his unique personality, gifts and passions. He was the Pastor for 150 adults with developmental disabilities, and that position, along with 33 others, were let go in a 2nd round of company layoffs. (It’s a great non-profit that we continue to pray for as they deal with their financial struggles). Ok, crushing blow but we still had the wave of energy that we were riding from Sweden. We knew it would be fine.

On July 15th, we found out that baby B was growing, had doubled in size and I was a high risk pregnancy and possibly on my way to surgery. The wave of energy was starting to lose its momentum a little bit but we knew there must be a plan here somewhere. God always has a plan…right?

On July 19th, we found out that the employees laid off do not qualify for unemployment because of the certain status this particular non profit holds. (Something I still don’t quite understand but try not to think about otherwise the seeds of bitterness start to embed in my soul.). The unemployment would have been how we would afford the temporary insurance coverage for my high risk pregnancy and weekly ultrasounds. Ok, now the wave was not only losing momentum but starting to crash down.

Fast forward to September 7, 2011.

Paul and I have a fight. Which, in our relationship means, I say something sassy and unnecessary. Paul raises his voice. I start to cry. I know, totally lame and anticlimactic. But what was the fight about, you ask? Hmm. I think it might have been about the fact that he had my computer and wasn’t answering his phone. And then it turned into not taking some free time we had today to look for a job. And then somehow we got to when his last speeding ticket was…?? Not sure how that happened.

Ok, so maybe it’s more helpful to figure out what the fight was really about. Which rarely has to do with the words that are flying around in an argument. And I think this one had to do with a sense of panic that has been building in me over the last week. A culmination of this wave collapsing on itself. On us. If you’ve ever been caught in an undertow you know the strength of it, and how hard it can be to get out of it. It seems the more you struggle, the weaker you get. That’s how I felt today.

I have a really cool devotional book that is written from God’s perspective – it takes scripture and phrases it as if God is speaking directly to you. I try to read it every morning. Well, everyday is more accurate. Actually, I have it by my bedside table to read 1st thing but by the time I see it, I am already running late and I throw it in my purse to read when I get to work. But then I don’t think about it until I am back home and see it in my purse when I am digging for my phone. And it ends up back by my bedside table for me to read before I go to bed. A terrible habit I know. But I can still say that I read it every day.

So today, I came home and saw it. I just had this feeling that God was saying ‘you should have read this in the morning…there’s something good in it specifically for you’. And of course, there was.

Trust in me with all your heart, and I will make your paths straight. The farther you roam along paths of unbelief, the harder it is to remember I am with you. Anxious thoughts branch off into all directions, taking you farther and farther from awareness of my presence. Trust in me. This simple act of faith will keep you walking along straight paths.

Ahh. There it is. Maybe if I had read that, I would have remembered that there is a plan. There is a path that we are on. In the past, I have written about how I want peace and how I finally figured out how to have peace regarding my pregnancy. I have written about how I want to trust in Gods presence and have figured out how to do so in the pregnancy. And just yesterday, I wrote about having awareness and how I have learned to foster that. Well, unfortunately, I didn’t learn these lessons enough to extend them into my whole life. Only in the sliver of life I have been sharing about. The sliver that is my complicated pregnancy. It’s a big sliver, but it’s not the whole picture. And I see now that there is no point in applying a lesson learned to only a piece of your life.

It’s like learning how to ride your bike on the grass but not on the concrete. What’s the point? Inevitably on your ride, you are going to encounter both terrains so you need to learn how to ride regardless of the kind of ground you are riding upon.

Just like I need to learn how to apply that peace, that awareness, that trust in God to all areas of my life including this phase in our lives of uncertainly. Not just my pregnancy. Otherwise I am like that person that looks in the mirror, walks away and forgets what he looks like. Would you believe that is also from the Bible (can you tell I’m married to a pastor!)? It’s in a verse that basically says, if you listen to or read what’s in the Bible but then don’t follow through on it (ie. do what it says, let it translate into your life), then it’s like looking in the mirror and walking away and forgetting what you look like. What’s the point of looking in the mirror then? We’ve got to apply what we learn. To our whole life – not just the convenient or easier parts.

So I guess I am trying to be intentional about living out loud. I guess that’s really the only way to live anyways. It’s not just about sharing those parts that we are comfortable with. Or that we have control of. Sometimes it’s about asking others to go into the water with us, and letting others in as we learn to apply what we are learning to all areas of our lives. And share the joy as we ride the wave together. Or to catch us when we crash into the shore. And who knows, if Cayden means of the sea, maybe she is riding these crazy waves with us; our very own guardian angel.

Oh and yes, Paul and I made up.

The Unexpected

It’s amazing how the unexpected hits you and literally takes your breath away. Or makes your heart skip a beat. Or stops you in your tracks. There are the obvious times that this happens – the phone call about the car accident, or news about the cancer cells you were convinced you had beat, or hearing that the perfect couple is getting divorced. Those are almost so unexpected that you have a sense of dread that it might be coming.

Meaning, you are not expecting it but you know it could happen at any time so in a sense, you at least have an awareness of the possibility.

But then there are the not so obvious unexpected moments. Like when you come home from a long day at work and your husband has a beautiful gourmet dinner waiting for you. Or when you have been told that you will never be able to get pregnant and then those 2 pink lines show up, clear as day. Or when your ex-boyfriend walks into the restaurant and your heart jumps into your throat and your cheeks flush red. And you don’t know if you are more surprised at seeing him or at your physical reaction.

These are the unexpected moments that you don’t even have an awareness about – they aren’t even on your radar as a possibility and so they catch you off guard.

I was in Boston this weekend with Paul and my in-laws and had one of these moments. It was almost a slow motion type of experience. Waiting for the bus at the Boston airport on Labor day weekend, suffice it to say there was a lot of noise, crowds, and offending smells. People scurrying determinedly dragging their rolling suitcases, cabs honking and tailgating, and busses letting out bursts of air as they pressurized each time they stopped and started again. As we waited amidst the black exhaust coming from each vehicle that passed us, I clutched Mia as my most important piece of luggage. Our bus finally came, and we scrambled over to it, along with 50 other people, counting our pieces of baggage as we walked. Then, as we came to a halt waiting for the people on the bus to get off, I saw a beautiful little girl stepping down, holding her mom’s hand. Then the mom half turned towards the bus and I realized her other hand was holding that of another child. And this one was just as beautiful as the first.

In fact, they had the same face.

Identical twins.

And all of a sudden the noise stopped. The smell of exhaust ceased and the constant movement around me became slow motion. I found myself watching them in amazement as they hurriedly walked towards their next destination. In that split second, before the noise came back and I was pressured to get on the bus by the waiting line behind me, my heart skipped a beat. My breath was taken away. I was stopped in my tracks. Just as quickly as the slow motion of the moment came upon me, it vanished. I looked at Paul wide eyed to see if he saw them. He did. I don’t know what expression I had on my face but it was enough for my mother in law to turn around and say, “It’s ok.”

On the bus, I started to process. I was so surprised by my reaction. It’s not that surprising to see identical twins, so just like with the reaction of seeing an ex at a restaurant, I was more surprised by how I reacted to it than to actually seeing them. I had a lump in my throat – which just means that the tears were armed and ready to be fired but there is a wall holding them in until given the go ahead. Being as I was on the bus, I let the wall remain erected until the tears were able to be swallowed away.

Why did I have tears anyways?! I thought to myself.

I felt a familiar ache somewhere deep in my heart. It was the kind of ache of something missing. Of what could have been. Maybe what should have been. Like how the working mother feels when told about her baby’s first steps. Or first words. Or when her baby calls her nanny ‘mommy.’ The ache that tells you that you are missing out on something significant but there is nothing you can do about it.

Where is this ache coming from?

Alongside that ache, was this feeling of utter surprise. The kind you don’t recover from right away because it had such a physical reaction in your body. Something that literally makes your endocrine system shoot out different hormones than usual, or makes your circulatory system actually change the pace of your breath or speed of your heartbeat – those things require some mental processing as well.

What is this reaction I am having?! Haven’t I already dealt with all this?

Maybe not. Maybe I dealt with losing a baby. Maybe I dealt with saying goodbye to Cayden. But maybe there is more there. Even though it’s just an idea, just a concept, just a dream, it still has power. Identical twins. I prayed for twins. And as I wrote in my last post, verbalizing that desire really made it stronger, gave it a voice. Weird to think something like that is such a strong desire of my heart. I mean seriously, one kid at a time is enough to deal with! But it’s not about me having those identical twins – its about them having each other. That’s the part of twins that I absolutely am in love with. That connection. That bond. There is nothing like it. Siblings come close. But it’s not quite the same.

I have a friend with triplets. And she told me once, “I figured out what my problem is. I hate the triplets.” As I started laughing at her clearly exaggerated comment, she went on to explain that she loves them each individually but as a unit of 3, they are a nightmare. I love that. It makes me think that there is something special about those 3 boys – an inseparable bond that they will have for life. A secret code that only they can understand.

Part of me (and I'm sure many of you) wants to say be thankful for the one you have. Or, why would anyone pray for twins, do you know how much work that is? Or I thought you were over the drama? I thought you dealt with all this already?

*Sigh.* Me too. And that’s why I was so surprised at my reaction.

But figuring out why you have strong reactions to something is important. It’s your body’s way of telling you that there is something there. Feelings that need to be dissected and understood. Most often, if you don’t take the time to dissect them and see what the real underlying meaning is, you will misinterpret. And that can be dangerous. You might think that you are still in love with your ex because of the reaction you had to seeing him. Most likely, however, it’s just a reliving of the past. It’s a memory of what was. But your reaction can also show you that you miss that. That excitement, that intensity. And you can use that awareness to work on bettering your own marriage.

It tells you what your hearts desires are. If you have strong reaction to seeing your high school bully – the feelings aren’t hatred (at its root). They are actually showing your hearts desire of wanting love and acceptance and how painful it is to be treated with the opposite. If you have a strong reaction to seeing you spouse talking with another woman, it doesn’t mean you don’t trust your spouse. It might mean that your hearts’ need is to feel more security in your relationship.

That’s the thing about writing. About journaling, prayer or meditation. It brings you to a certain sense of awareness. Awareness about your feelings, your thoughts. While this is a great benefit to you personally, it’s also exhausting.

There’s something to be said about living life unaware. Sort of a the “ignorance is bliss” idea.

Since it doesn't seem like I get to live in that kind of ignorant bliss (mainly because I over think everything!), I tried to see where the tears, the ache, and the reaction came from. I guess the awareness was that my heart really does have a longing for twins. That's where the tears came from. It’s weird. It’s uncommon. I know. But I think the ache in my heart was for Summer, as she was the one who was going to be missing out on what could have been. Missing out on that bond with her sister.

I do have to say that it made me smile. Seeing the twin girls, each holding one of mommy’s hands. It made me smile. I wasn’t jealous. I wasn’t even sad. I just had a strong reaction to coming so close to having something, a desire in my heart realized.

One that may or may not not ever come to fruition. And that’s ok. I got on that bus and hugged Mia a little tighter. Felt Summer kicking and realized that the path my life is on still has a long way to go.
And it’s exciting. And its exhausting.

And that sometimes, being stopped in your tracks isn’t all that bad.

A Little Clarity in the Clouds

So it’s been 7 days since my ultrasound and today was the first day I looked up ‘fluid on the brain’ on the internet. Before you judge, remember 7 days is a long time – especially for me! I lasted that long partly because I have been so busy lately and partly because I was purposely trying not to look it up.

But now, the secret is out. I looked it up. But to tell you the truth, I’m not that concerned. Even though I broke down at 7 days and looked it up the internet, I think those extra days helped me be ok with whatever the outcome.

I have heard myself say a few times this week, 'I’m over it.' Not out of cynicism or resignation but out of genuine peace. Meaning, I am over the stress, over the drama, over the fear and anxiety. And I am just ok with whatever.

As a matter of fact, I was kind of annoyed when the doctor told me what the fluid might mean at birth – I wanted to say, 'let’s deal with what’s happening in utero, and then at the birth we’ll deal with what happens there.'

Choroid Plexus Cyst. That’s what my the official label is for the fluid on Summer’s brain. And like I said in my previous post, it could be nothing. In fact, they think that there are many of us walking around with these fluid pockets on the brain. On the other hand it can be indicative of Trisomy 18 or Trisomy 21. But only 1% have that chance. And that’s only if there are other rare conditions in the pregnancy. Like identical twins. Or TRAP sequence.

Hmm.

But still, I have heard so many encouraging stories of other people who were given that diagnosis, even with twins, and there were no other issues in addition to the fluid. So I’m not too worried. Not much I can do about it anyways.

Another reason that I’m sort of ‘over it’ I think has to do with writing Baby b, Cayden, a letter. Many people have asked me if it made a difference to see her on the ultrasound last week after writing her a goodbye letter. And yes, it did make a difference. In fact, I had no idea it would make as much of a difference as it did or I would have done it earlier. It’s funny how that works. How hindsight is 20/20 (or at least a little clearer hopefully!). But I wonder if we really can do things differently much of the time. Or if we do in fact have to go through the process of certain things in order to come to a place of peace.

When we decided to name her and write her a goodbye letter, we just wanted some closure on the constant worrying. I wanted to focus on Summer and start to get excited about having another baby. Something that has been prevented with all the drama surrounding this pregnancy. But I had no idea how effective that letter would be.

When Paul and I were in premarital counseling, our pastor told us how important it was to verbalize our feelings. That sometimes, by not giving words or a voice to our feelings, it prevents us from actually moving forward. In a way, it stunts our personal growth. (Maybe that’s why I’m so tall – I never stop talking!)

But I have really found that to be true. And my husband, (who is not one to use more words than necessary to get a point across), would also agree that even though it might be a challenge for him to find the appropriate words to describe what he is feeling, once he finds those words, there is freedom in them. Freedom from what, I’m not sure. I guess freedom from emotions needing an escape route. Freedom from confusion. Assigning words to feelings provides clarity.

When we named Cayden Marie and wrote her a goodbye letter, each word in the letter carried a lot of weight. Each word was heavy with emotion. When I began writing the letter, I felt frustration and sadness. By the end, I felt gratefulness and peace.

What I didn’t realize until the last ultrasound when I saw baby b on the screen, was that those words literally CARRIED MY emotion. They were more than just words; each one represented my emotions. Even took that emotion. The words of that letter relieved me of much of the frustration and sadness and allowed me to feel gratefulness and peace.

So when I saw baby b on the ultrasound, I didn’t see Cayden Marie. My little Cayden is in heaven. What I saw instead was Summer. And next to Summer, a mass of cells that was growing slowly enough to allow me a few more weeks of calm. Of gratefulness.

Even now, until I started writing this post, I didn’t realize how this past week has had an underlying sense of gratefulness. But it’s true, I have felt particularly thankful since the ultrasound. I think that feeling is what allowed me to not look up fluid on the brain. I was just thankful for so many things, I didn’t want to ruin it. Thankful for Cayden. For baby b’s slow growth. For Mia. For Summer. Every time I get heartburn, feel her foot lodged underneath my rib, or can’t sleep because I’m having pregnancy hot flashes – it makes me thankful. For support from family and friends. For all your prayers.

Prayer is a funny thing. It’s hard to understand it. Why pray if God knows what we feel and think anyways? Well, maybe it’s not so much for HIM to hear the prayers, as it is for US to figure out what we really are praying for. What we are really feeling. Maybe there is a reason He tells us to do that. Maybe because He knows us, and He knows it’s what we need to do to continue our personal growth. You know, because He created us and all.

All I know is that if I didn’t start writing frequently, I would be a bundled mess of emotions. I would cry at commercials rather than the real reason I was sad and get upset about traffic jams rather than the real reason I was upset. Writing and prayer have been that clarifying agent for me. (Though I do still cry at commercials and I do still hate traffic jams.)

The 7 days I waited before looking up Choroid Plexus gave me some time to just bask in the blessings I have. So that while reading about the realm of possibilities regarding the fluid, I was able to remain grounded in reality. That, coupled with giving a voice to my feelings through the words of each blog post, has provided me with clarity. A sense of calm.

And even a sense of anticipation.

For the first time since seeing those 2 pink lines on a pregnancy test 5 months ago, I think the front-running emotion I feel is finally excitement about having another baby. Another baby girl. I’m ready to take out Mia’s infant clothes and begin preparing to bring a 2nd child into our home.

The shadows of doubt seem to have dissipated. The cloud around the whole pregnancy has thinned. We can see, or better yet feel, clearly now. We are ready. We are thankful.

Though the season is coming to an end, Paul and I are finally ready for Summer.