Remember: Every Life is Beautiful

Boss and I last February. I was newly pregnant with baby number four.
Photo by Heather Matthews Photography

 Yesterday was an emotionally intense day of remembrance for me for a number of reasons.

 

The first reason is probably pretty obvious. The tragedy of 9/11 touched our entire nation. It touched me. I was just beginning my sophomore year of college that September, sitting in a class on government when I first heard the news. I actually don't remember how I initially felt upon watching the planes fly into the towers . I don't recall my initial reaction. I don't think that I even had one. I am one of those people where it takes quite awhile for emotions to sink in. After a lifetime of feeling things much too intensely, by college I had a nice big wall built up around my heart, and I had to choose carefully what feelings I would allow inside of my wall. Feeling nothing usually won out, and I am ashamed to say that it won out on 9/11, as well. I felt nothing. It was easier that way. And as the days went by, and it was still all that anyone was talking about, I then remember moving from feeling nothing, to feeling angry. Because the longer people talked, the more times they showed the horrific footage on the television, the more likely it was becoming that I couldn't ignore what had taken place.

 

It finally hit me several days later while I was in the shower. And then all of a sudden, I felt fear. Fear of being alive, fear of not being alive, fear of a religion I did not understand, fear of moving about freely, fear of being away from my family. And I kept thinking about those people on the planes. And I knew that my fear could not even begin to compare to what they had experienced that day. So I cried the ugly kind of cry. I slid down the side of the shower until I was sitting on the cold floor of the tub and I let the warm water wash over my body, praying it would wash away my pain in the process. I have always been a fearful person, and the events of that particular day drew me in to my shell just a little bit more. I began to view the world differently. I had known that the world could be cruel, but that day showed me that it was also unsafe. 9/11 made me question God. Not in a bad way. Just in a way that was new for me. And eleven years later, I still don't have answers to some of my questions.

 

So yesterday, I remembered. I remembered the people who lost their lives. I thought of and prayed for their families. It was a good reminder that I am not the author of my own days. I am not in control. It was a good reminder that every life matters. Every single life has the ability to impact another. Yesterday I remembered that every life is beautiful, even the lives that end too soon.

 

But yesterday had me remembering the loss of another life, as well. Last February, I miscarried our fourth child. Sweet baby would have been due this month. The first several weeks after the miscarriage were hard, but after awhile, life got back to normal. I still thought of our sweet baby from time to time, but I could do so with a smile. But then September came, and my heart started hurting again. I should be heavy with child right now. I should be feeling little kicks and washing tiny clothes. Our baby should have had a name. But it never will. Last night Boss and I watched a movie, and in one particular scene, a mama is handed her brand new baby, all wrapped up in the white hospital blanket striped with pink and blue, little cap snug on his head. And before I knew what was happening, I was weeping. Weeping for the little baby that I was never meant to hold. Weeping for life not turning out the way that I would have liked for it to. Weeping for all life that has been ended too soon.

 

So yesterday, I remembered. I remembered sweet baby number four. It was another good reminder that I am not the author of my own days. I am not in control. It was another good reminder that every life matters. Every single life has the ability to impact another. Sweet baby number four has certainly impacted mine. Yesterday I remembered that every life is beautiful, even the lives that end too soon.

A Tiny Tribute

One of the first things that I did once I discovered that I was pregnant with number four, as I previously mentioned, was to call my super cute and talented photographer friend, Heather. I wanted pregnancy announcement pictures! With each of my other pregnancies I have always had Boss or my mom snap a few pictures of me here or there as my belly grew, but I had never had professional maternity pictures taken. The reason? I never really liked the way that I looked before I got pregnant, so I certainly did not like the way I looked once the extra pounds were packed on! I was always in awe of my pregnant body, thinking the whole process of growing a life was beautiful, but I never, ever thought that I looked beautiful pregnant. At only five feet tall, when pregnant, I look more like an oompa loompa. Just speaking the truth here. Perhaps a cute oompa loompa, but an oompa loompa all the same. So I always passed up the opportunity to capture each pregnancy in time through photographs. Another reason I passed pictures up was because I always assumed that there would be a next time. Next time, I would be thinner before I got pregnant so obviously pictures would be cuter then. Next time, I would grow my hair longer so my face would not look quite so round. Next time, I would have a better wardrobe. Totally shallow, but it is what I would think.

But suddenly, back in 2010, I found myself the mama to three beautiful children and I did not think that we would ever have any more. And I began to mourn all of the things I did not do in my pregnancies. Did I cherish my swollen belly enough? Did I implant deep in my mind and heart what it felt like to be heavy with the miracle of child so that I would never forget? And why, oh why, did I not take more pictures? Why didn't I document everything from the very beginning until the very end? I vowed then and there that if I ever became pregnant once again I would do those things. I would celebrate my pregnant body the way that it deserved to be celebrated.

So when we found out that number four was on the way, I wasted no time in calling Heather and having her come out to capture our new joy with her lens. I had so much fun in our little photo shoot! The sun was shining, the air was crisp, and Heather has a fantastic way of making everyone feel beautiful. How lucky am I to have such a talented friend?! It might seem silly to be posting these pictures now, considering that I lost our baby this week, but I am actually so thankful that I have these photographs! I am so glad that I did not think that I would just get pictures next time or later. Because this week has taught me that there might not always be a later. These pictures are my only memento from my fourth pregnancy, our baby that was not meant to be, and I will always cherish them. I think I might frame one and put it in my kitchen. That way I can always remember. A tiny tribute to the tiny one who taught me to celebrate each moment of life to the fullest. Who taught me not to take anything for granted, and who taught this mama to open her eyes to the beauty that is all around her instead of always wishing for something more. Thank you, Heather, for using your gift to gift me. May we all remember to celebrate and find joy in the lives that we have been given, and may we continuously praise our Father in Heaven who is the giver of life and all good gifts!

**** All photographs courtesy of Heather Matthews Photography. If you live in the area and are in need of a photo shoot, you can contact her at heathermatthewsphotography@gmail.com. She is so fun and awesome! ****

Vision

My miscarriage has continued for the past 48 hours, and time is still marching on. Sometimes I wish the clock would just stop, just for a little bit, so that I could climb into my bed, pull the covers up over my head, and have a little bit of time alone to sort all of this out in my head. But so far that has not happened, the clock stopping, so I just keep pressing forward. We did have a nice, quiet (as quiet as a house with five teenagers and three children can be!), Valentine's day yesterday. After we completed our school assignments in the morning, the girls and I baked Boss a peanut butter and chocolate trifle. We sure do love Boss, and he sure loves peanut butter and chocolate, so we figured that would be a nice surprise for him. The girls got to lick the bowl, so they were happy campers. We also decorated the house with all of the party supplies I had intended to use for our baby announcement party the evening before. After dinner my little ladies took a candlelit bubble bath, and we all agreed that this day had been better than the one before it.

Today I had to drive back to the hospital for a follow up blood draw. I won't know until this afternoon what the results are, but basically, if the numbers have gone up there might still be hope, but if they have gone down, I have indeed miscarried. My heart already knows the results. It seemed cruel that I had to first explain to a stranger why I was there, and then that I had to sit in a waiting room full of women with large, lovely, baby bellies, who were there getting their glucose tests or a variety of other things done. It didn't matter to me that I had three healthy children at home. I know there are some families who have lost living children, some who have experienced multiple miscarriages, some who have no children at all to love. I know how blessed I am, I feel it and am thankful, and I know that this miscarriage is not a tragedy. It is a disappointment. But I did want this particular child. I wanted the September birthday, exactly two and a half years apart from Jack, and I wanted all of my children born in even numbered years. It was supposed to be 2004, 2006, 2010, and now 2012. (I never said that I was normal! Ha!). So for two days I have been mourning (pouting about?) all of the things that I had wanted this pregnancy to mean for our family's future. It has not been pretty.

It was when I was sitting in the chair, when the tech was about to stick me, that I noticed it. I had turned my head away so that she would not see my tears, when my eyes took notice of the picture on the wall. Perhaps it was a picture of a rainbow? I am not certain, but I am certain about what the caption at the bottom said. The picture was entitled VISION, and the line underneath read:

"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes." ~ Marcel Proust

And right there in that plastic hospital chair, my heart was given a clear vision for the first time in days. Perhaps years. Life is not about where I am or what happens to me. It is how I see it and what I do about it that matters! Essentially, it is all about perspective! I know I have heard this particular lesson preached before, probably from my mother, but it took root in my soul in a new way for me today. My life has been sorely lacking vision. It was sorely lacking before I lost this baby, and it will continue to lack if I don't begin to open my eyes and look around me at what is really there, instead of only looking at what I want or desire to be there.

I have felt restless for quite some time. Years, really. Always thinking that changing this, or doing that will make things better. Add some spice to my life. I am ashamed to admit that I have even felt that way about having children. When you are pregnant, even if you are doing nothing, you are still doing something! Growing a person! But, oddly enough (or not really oddly at all), it never does. The change never lasts forever and the new thing never stays new. The babies grow up into delightful little people and need me less and less. They find their independence, while I am left still wondering what I am going to be when I grow up. And before long I feel restless once again. But sitting in that chair this afternoon, I realized that I don't need new circumstances. And I don't need a new life. I certainly would have loved a new baby, this baby, but what I most desperately need is a new set of eyes.

I don't know why I could not keep this particular baby. I sure wish that I had been able to. But I know that God knows why, and that this is just a tiny part of my entire story. A tiny person, a tiny part of the big picture, but a big part in perhaps giving this Mama a new set of eyes. A new life created that ended up giving me a new way of looking at life. And that feels pretty amazing. I know that God is at work, and I can't wait to see how He finishes this chapter. I have my eyes wide open, and I am ready to see.

Celebrating Life and Love

About a month ago I found out I was expecting number four. A new blessing to love! I have always wanted a large family, so my heart was overjoyed at the thought. Four children! Me, the mama to four little ones! I felt complete awe that God, in His goodness, had chosen to allow me to grow another tiny one in my womb. It was a very happy time. For the first time ever, I decided to keep my pregnancy a secret. Usually I shout my pregnancies from the rooftops (or yell excitedly about them into cellphones), but this time I decided to savor it. I wanted everything to be perfect. No blurting it out or making a fool of myself in my happiness. This time needed to be sweet and special.

I waited 48 whole hours before I told Boss. I didn't know when, exactly, I was going to tell him, I just knew that it needed to be special. A moment that he would never forget. 48 hours later and our moment arrived. We were standing in a space that has to do with some of our upcoming changes, when Boss suddenly pulled me into his arms and began praying with me for our family, our life, our children. This type of togetherness is new, and oh so special for us. It still makes me catch my breath when he draws me close and prays to our Father on our behalf. There are not many sweeter moments in life than praying with your love for your life together, so when he ended the prayer, I whispered it. I told him that he was going to be a daddy again. His eyes filled with tears and shown with such joy and tenderness at the news. Creating a new life together never gets old! Afterwards, we went out to dinner to celebrate!

The next month went by and we told very few people. A few family members knew, a few friends. But to most, we kept this new life growing inside of me a secret. It was actually kind of exciting! And during this past month we planned out how we were going to tell the children that they were going to be getting a new sibling. I decided that I wanted to tell them around Valentine's day. I have always wanted to incorporate a pregnancy surprise into a holiday, and this was my chance. Besides, what better way to celebrate a day of love, than by celebrating a new life that was created in love? I planned every last detail of our surprise party. There were going to be streamers, balloons, and confetti. We were going to have a bistro style meal of sandwiches, soups, and salad, with my mom's strawberry cake and chocolate trifle for dessert. I made each of the children shirts with numbers on them that told of their birth order. Emma 1, Kate 2, Jack 3, and a tiny onesie with a sweet little 4 on it. Each child would get to open their goody bag filled with their shirt and treats, and then together they would open the package with the onesie in it and see if they could figure out the surprise.

Besides our children, grandparents would be our guests of honor. My sweet and talented photographer friend, Heather, took pregnancy announcement photos for us, and we were going to gift the grandparents with a little album each. I could barely imagine the joy that was going to be surrounding our table once the surprise was figured out. My own heart nearly burst at the sight of four small shirts laid out on my bed! I had never felt more lucky or blessed.

All month long I had been talking up this surprise with the girls! Their guesses of what it was ranged from a tea set, to headbands, to a movie, a pony, a board game, a new brother or sister, to a trip to Disney World! My favorite part? They actually would have been happy with any of those gifts. But when I asked them what they wished for the very most, a new sibling and Disney World always topped the list! Our party was supposed to be tonight, and last night the girls were so excited they could hardly sleep! We were all ready for today to arrive!

My mom showed up early this morning to take the kids for the day, so that I could finish shopping, decorate the house, and cook. But as soon as she pulled away from my house it happened. I started to bleed. I knew what was happening before I even went to check. And my heart crumbled into a million little pieces. I called Boss at work and he came home to hug me. Since I had not seen a doctor yet, we decided to just go to the emergency room. And two ultrasounds later revealed what my heart already knew to be true. This tiny little one was not meant to be a part of our family here on this earth. Where I should be nearly eight weeks along at the very least, the screen only showed a pregnancy that looked to be around five weeks. There is a very slim chance that my dates are simply wrong and it is still too early, but combined with my bleeding that is not likely. Most likely I will never hold this fourth little one in my arms, and it is funny how you can miss someone so much that you never even had the chance to meet. We drove home in silence with orders to come back on Wednesday for a final blood draw, but my head already seems to know what the answer is going to be. My heart is simply having a hard time accepting it.

When we got home we pulled our bigger babies onto our bed and told them the news. That we had wished so much that we would be celebrating the news of a new life with them tonight. Sweet sisters cried over their tiny brother or sister that they will never know. We hugged and held, and my heart did begin to feel better. Somewhere in the midst of the hugging and loving, someone suggested that we celebrate anyway. Because there was in fact a new life created and we do in fact have love. So that is what we did. We ordered Chinese food and ate cake. Jack made us all laugh, and we talked about heaven and whether we thought this baby would have been a boy or girl. We did celebrate both life and love tonight, just not in the way that I had imagined we would.

I have not lost hope that this baby might make it, because I know that my God can do ANYTHING, but I am simply praying that whatever the outcome, that I draw nearer to Him than I was when this started. Isn't that really the point of anything? To find God in everything? And I know that He is here. Waiting to bring me to Him whether I end up rejoicing or mourning.

Oh, sweet baby number 4. You were already wanted and loved by everyone in our family. You will always hold a special place in my heart. I was so excited to be your mama! Your daddy and I had already talked of you often and dreamed about your life. My arms sure wish that they could hold you. We will always celebrate your life, no matter that it was short. You will always be loved.