Mixed Bag.

I'm kind of to the point that I am tired of writing about myself and all this stuff.  But here goes.  I've been  a mixed bag lately.  The good point of that is that I have had some very happy times.  The not so good part is that I can go from happy to not happy in a split second time.  Church was great today.  For the first time, I was not overwhelmed and could actually talk to people. All was going well this afternoon.  It was a true blessing.

Then Adam left and a cloud of despair rolled in.  Last Sunday, I had the same feeling.  It is an overwhelming feeling of everything looking impossible and of me not knowing how in the world I will make it through the week.  It is full blown loneliness, sadness, and vulnerability, all with a little "I feel crazy" mixed right in.  That is how I feel as I type this.

Now, I know God's Word.  I KNOW that He is the one that will get me through this week.  SO I do want for my faith to be stronger,  that I will walk in what I know and not in what I feel.  This seems impossible at the moment.  There is such a disconnect between my heart and my mind at times like these.

So I am praying.  In the hardest times of my life Isaiah 40 has always been a source of strength for me.  I love the whole chapter, but here are a few verses:

"27 Why do you say, O Jacob,
and speak, O Israel,
'My way is hidden from the Lord,
and my right is disregarded by my God'?
28 Have you not known? Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
his understanding is unsearchable.
29 He gives power to the faint,
and to him who has no might he increases strength.
30 Even youths shall faint and be weary,
and young men shall fall exhausted;
31 but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;
they shall mount up with wings like eagles;
they shall run and not be weary;
they shall walk and not faint."

The sweetest morning

This morning's wake up was drastically different than most recent days.  For one thing, I actually slept completely through the night (I feel a difference already).  But the best thing about this day is my sweet little guy, Andrew, who is 22 months old.

At about 6:30  I hear a sweet low voice coming from his room, "Mommy," drawn out so it actually sounds like, "Mmooommmmmmmmmyyyyy." This is unlike the usually moans and cries to get out of bed.  When I get him out of his crib he has an ear to ear grin and we lay down together in his bed for a moment.  He asks me to sing, "Sing Jesus."  So I begin to sing "Jesus Love Me."  Only half awake it turns into a hum.  He again asks me to sing.  I made up a song that goes something like this, "I love my buddy boy, he gives me kisses and he gives me hugs, I love my buddy boy."  As I say kisses, he leans over with a big grin and gives me a kiss.  Then he lays back down and says, "Thank you."  My heart just melts.

Thank God for a day that I wake up in joy.

My Ultrasound experience

I have one image of Baby Ashlynn Haven. The doctor couldn't find the heartbeat on the doppler. "Sometimes, they are stubborn."  He sent the nurse to get the ultrasound machine.  At first I was excited, not only was I going to hear the heartbeat, I was going to SEE my baby.  How lucky.  He had trouble finding it and kept the screen turned from me.  I wanted so bad to get up and look at the screen.  He said, that it looked like I wasn't as far along as anticipated, and left to see if the bigger ultrasound machine was available.  I waited and anticipated seeing my baby for the first time, sorry that Adam was not there to share in the experience.

I went in to the room with the ultrasound tech.  At first she explained every detail of what she was doing.  There was my baby.  Little head, little feet, little hands, still and what looked to be sleeping. She measured it several times from rump to crown, she checked the size of my uterus, the size of my ovaries.  By now she didn't say much.  "There must be something wrong," I thought, "can we just see the baby again?"  She measured one last time.  Then she sent me back to the room to see the doctor.  "All of these images have been sent to Dr. H.  He will be able to go over all of this with you."  Okay, I left.

"WHAT?  all of this?  This doesn't sound good.  This can't be right.  This is ALL WRONG!"  I waited and waited and waited.  "Surely there is some explanation, something that will make it okay.  Surely IT WILL BE OKAY."

But it wasn't.  The doctor gave me the news as lightly as he could.  I was alone and couldn't believe what he was saying.  I couldn't take that news.  No heartbeat.  I never got to hear the heartbeat.  I did get to see my baby early, but it was the only time this side of Home.

At first I thought it was cruel that I had to see a baby I will not get to hold.  But now I am thankful. I'm thankful to have had even a small glimpse to remember of our baby.

God's Word is amazing

I am amazed at the way God's Word can come so close to my innermost heart and relate perfectly.

Psalm 77

1 I cry aloud to God,
aloud to God, and he will hear me.
2 In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord;
in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying;
my soul refuses to be comforted.
3 When I remember God, I moan;
when I meditate, my spirit faints. Selah

4 You hold my eyelids open;
I am so troubled that I cannot speak.
5 I consider the days of old,
the years long ago.
6 I said, “Let me remember my song in the night;
let me meditate in my heart.”
Then my spirit made a diligent search:
7 “Will the Lord spurn forever,
and never again be favorable?
8 Has his steadfast love forever ceased?
Are his promises at an end for all time?
9 Has God forgotten to be gracious?
Has he in anger shut up his compassion?” Selah

10 Then I said, “I will appeal to this,
to the years of the right hand of the Most High.” 

11 I will remember the deeds of the Lord;
yes, I will remember your wonders of old.
12 I will ponder all your work,
and meditate on your mighty deeds.
13 Your way, O God, is holy.
What god is great like our God?
14 You are the God who works wonders;
you have made known your might among the peoples.
15 You with your arm redeemed your people,
the children of Jacob and Joseph. Selah

16 When the waters saw you, O God,
when the waters saw you, they were afraid;
indeed, the deep trembled.
17 The clouds poured out water;
the skies gave forth thunder;
your arrows flashed on every side.
18 The crash of your thunder was in the whirlwind;
your lightnings lighted up the world;
the earth trembled and shook.
19 Your way was through the sea,
your path through the great waters;
yet your footprints were unseen.
20 You led your people like a flock
by the hand of Moses and Aaron.

Meaning described

The previous post is a painting I did tonight expressing a lot of emotion from the loss of our baby.  To the best of my ability, I'll explain what it means.  You may want to take a look at it before reading on. There will be some things that I just can't explain and may not have even discovered yet that are expressed in the painting/drawing.  After all, a picture is worth a thousand words.

Title: Jan. 25, 2010.  I'll never forget this date.  It is the day that I thought I would hear my baby's heartbeat for the first time, but instead discovered that it had no heartbeat.  As much as I will remember my living son's birthday, I'll remember this day as the day I lost my baby.

Orange/red violent looking sky.  Many times I have gazed into the sky for peace and freedom from all that is going on in my life.  The vastness of the sky usually brings great awe and wonder of the mercy and grace of God and of His creative handiwork.  However, when I looked to the sky recently, I was flooded with turmoil and questions.  Instead of peace and freedom, there was anger and lonliness and tension.

Middle ground/ Ocean scape.  Represents the tears that I've cried.  in the picture it is up to my neck, signifying being close to drowning in my tears.

Figure.  Hands over womb.  The bonding I have had with my baby has been mostly of hopes and dreams for the future.  But I also would love to hold my belly and think about how big the baby was. I would read week by week the development and what was new with my baby.  A strong bond was being formed.

Little Heart-  my baby. It is black to represent that there is no life.  My baby has died.

Big Heart.  My heart.  It is half black and half red symbolizing that a part of me has also been lost with the passing of my baby.

Tears, streaming and flooding the ground.  Sadness and pain (a lot)  The puddle on the ground is flowing in little streams to the bigger body of water, signifying that the vast body of water is from the tears that I've cried.