I have wanted to write more often, but I've been busy, and overwhelmed by the sheer number of thoughts that go through my head each day. Literally from joy to panic and back again, with some grief thrown into the middle. Such is my "new normal," I guess. I'm going to attempt some coherent updates, but be warned... this will be a long one!

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Christmas was really good! We enjoyed seeing family, watching our nephews and niece run around like maniacs all weekend, opening presents, resting, and soaking in the joy of Christmas. Christmas Day itself was a bit tough... I was concerned that I would lose it during the marathon two-hour gift-opening that morning (I had visions of me crying while trapped in the room by piles of gifts, forcing me to sob in front of everyone), but I was OK. I was OK until we (inconveniently) were at someone else's house. And then I lost it. And spent over half an hour sitting in a bedroom and crying. I couldn't even put into words what I was feeling... my tears were the only way to express how much I missed Asher & Evan. I am lucky that our family is more than understanding, and no one made a big deal of it. And I was fine the rest of the day. I think I just needed some time to acknowledge and feel the pain, in the midst of all the happiness.

J kept asking me if I "had an OK Christmas" like it really sucked but I managed to get through. I tried to emphasize that Christmas was actually really good. My new normal means that I can spend an hour sobbing, and still have an OK day. I'm (sadly) used to it. If that weren't the case I would be completely insane by now.

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I'm slowly catching up on blog reading—and will be even slower to catch up on commenting—but I am so thrilled to see all the rainbow pregnancies lately! I am praying for happy, healthy, normal, uneventful pregnancies for each of you.

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So, the "joy-to-panic-and-back-again" thing. Of course this has to do with Baby 3, who is happily growing in my belly and giving me all kinds of digestive issues. :-) I am thrilled, thrilled, thrilled, and so thankful to be 16 and a half weeks pregnant with this little one. When I am able to focus on the joy I am moved to tears by how thankful I am. However, it's a daily struggle to focus on the joy over the terror that sneaks into my mind. I've had so many thoughts that I would never voice aloud, but have wanted to share here, as I'm sure many of you can relate. I worry how much time I have left with this baby, and feel like a ticking time bomb. Quick refresher: I was admitted to the hospital at 21 weeks, delivered at 22 and a few days. I was most definitely showing signs of pre-e at my 20-week appointment. So, yeah. Did I mention I'm approaching 17 weeks??? As we get closer to 20 my blood pressure will probably rise just from the stress.

I had lunch with my mom yesterday and we talked about being nervous. She commented that I have to try not to be too nervous, but then said, "But how can you do that? How is that possible? Meditation, what? How do you do it?" I shrugged. I just do. What choice do I have?

Aside from praying and surrendering my worries to God, I haven't found anything else that really helps me calm down. Honestly it helps me to remind myself that I have absolutely no control over how this turns out. I. Have. No. Control. This helps because it allows me to stop dwelling and worrying so much about things. It's wasted energy. All I can do is enjoy each day that I have with this baby. I hope and pray that I will have years with this child, but even if it's only today, I'm striving to be thankful just for that.


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And lastly, I know that many babyloss moms out there have "goals" that they want to reach in their pregnancies. Whether or not these dates mean anything, it somehow helps to have small victories to reach. Here are the dates I'm praying for. I will be ecstatic to reach any/each of them:

• January 22: the week of my birthday, 20 weeks pregnant.
• February 9: 22 weeks and 4 days pregnant. This will be the most pregnant I have ever been, and past the day when we lost the boys.
• February 19: 24 weeks pregnant

I can't even think beyond 24 at this point. If I get to 24 with no pre-e I will be crying and puking and sobbing with joy. (Seriously. Thanks to Baby 3, if I cry too hard I start gagging, and you know what comes next....)

This is silly, but I somehow feel like I'm tempting fate by listing these days. Isn't that weird? I mean, I'm a Christian, so I believe God is in absolute control, and He doesn't work that way. Yet every step I take to "commit" more fully to this pregnancy, I feel a little nervous that I somehow jinxed myself. As Mich.ael Scott would say, "I'm not superstitious... but I am a little stitious."

Thankful Thursday

Last week I had my annual performance review at work. I've worked for my company for almost 4 years, and I really enjoy my job. Like every job it  has good days and bad days, and plenty of things to vent about. But overall I work at a great company with great people, and I love what I do.

So, my review. I'm always nervous going into a review. But I was particularly nervous this time because this past year has been such a roller coaster. At best it's been filled with doctors appointments and odd hours, both before and after my pregnancy. At worst, I was unexpectedly out of the office for 8 weeks, while hospitalized, and after the boys were born. Granted, I knew my boss wouldn't hold any of that against me. But on top of it all, I have been distracted (putting it mildly) and feel that I've lost much of my focus this year (with good reason, but still).

Well, long story short, my review went really well! As it turns out, I have met all of the goals I set at last year's review, and grown in my job, amazingly. I know it's only through God's grace that I've done so. I honestly feel like I've been phoning it in until just a couple months ago, and I still feel that way sometimes. So... yeah. God is good, for protecting my job and helping me succeed in the midst of grief. And I am thankful for that.

Some days I feel fine. Other days I feel terrified. Some days I am trusting and sure, other days my heart is in my throat and I think I must be crazy to walk this path again. I realize that the path to good things is not always easy. The best things take work. To have children, you must get pregnant (or adopt, but that’s another discussion). For me to have the baby in my arms that I so long for, I must walk this scary road.

I believe that God is with me. I believe that He desires for us to try again, and to fully trust Him on this journey. I know that if I just fix my eyes on Him, it will be OK. I don’t mean I know things will turn out the way I want them, because, unfortunately, I can’t know that. But I know that focusing on Him gives me peace, and more strength than I have on my own. I know that He brought me through circumstances worse than my mind could have possibly dreamed up, and He will bring me through whatever happens next time.

Usually the times that I feel most anxious and lost are the times when I sit and think, and try to work things out in my head. I play different scenarios over and over, each with different outcomes and strategies to handle the cards we are dealt. I play “Choose Your Own Adventure” with my life, as if in the end I will have any say in things, anyway. I waste my time worrying... it’s a waste because it WILL NOT CHANGE A THING. My worrying is not productive.

And so I have to remind myself to STOP, and fix my eyes on Jesus. It is a constant struggle, with all the distractions and worries and thoughts around me. Taunting me to focus on them instead. Tempting me to try and talk myself through this, to rely on my knowledge and strength. And so I tear my eyes away from those concerns, and look only at Him. Only Him.

"Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed." - Luke 10:41-42

Summer Vacation Part 1: Faith's Lodge

At long last, here is part 1 (of 2) of our recent vacation! Our hopes for this time were to relax, get away (that was a biggie), honor and remember our boys, and reflect on the past 7 months. Also to just have FUN and breathe. I think we got all of that and more, and we are so thankful.

The first week of our vacation included three nights at Faith's Lodge in Wisconsin. Faith's Lodge is a nonprofit retreat center for families and couples who have lost a child, or are dealing with the terminal illness of a child.

I cannot recommend Faith's Lodge enough. If you are anywhere in the Midwest (or want to come here) you must visit this unique and serene place. While there we felt both lifted up and supported, and also allowed to sink into the weight of our grief.

The lodge itself was gorgeous! 12,000 square feet, 4 floors. It includes a large commercial kitchen, eating area, wraparound porch, library, craft room, "Eagle's Nest" with beautiful views, and plenty of cozy areas to sit and read or talk.

While there we met 5 other couples who have lost babies. No two stories were alike, but for the first time we experienced a community of others who have truly "been there." J and I have both found encouragement through blogs and the online community, but it was almost surreal to meet people "in real life." It took a little time for everyone to warm up, but we left with new friends and the feeling that we'd known some of the couples for years, rather than days. Slowly, everyone shared their stories, and we connected through similar experiences, while reflecting on the uniqueness of each situation.

There is something incredibly bonding and healing about sitting with people for hours, who you hardly knew until a couple days before, and talking about grief, and pain, and the hardest things in your life, without having to qualify your statements. Everyone just seemed to "get it." I can't describe the feeling, but it was so, so welcome.

There were a few activities planned each day, but we were free to do as much or as little as we chose. We created a bird house and a mosaic stone to add to the boys' garden. We hiked the Inspiration Path. We canoed on the pond. We spent lots of time reading and reflecting.

There is a bridge at the lodge that is surrounded by small, heart-shaped stones. Each of the stones has been decorated and placed in memory of a child. It was actually pretty overwhelming—like stars in the sky, more and more stones stood out to us the longer we looked. We decorated a stone and placed it under a tree to honor Asher and Evan. It was a very meaningful tribute to them.

Faith's Lodge was so good in so many ways. It was also difficult in some ways. Some parts were both good and hard. It was a time of sharing, processing, and healing. We are so very thankful that a place like this exists, and that we had the opportunity to visit.

And now a few pictures:

MFM appointment update (ttc)

Well, the appointment with the MFM went well! It went as well as it possibly could have. I’m so thankful for that. A part of me wants to be able to point to something and say “It was because of that. If I fix that, next time will be fine.” But so far it looks like that’s not going to happen, so I need to learn to accept that I absolutely cannot control the outcome of my next pregnancy. There is nothing I can do that will guarantee a positive outcome. (On the flip side, that also means there’s not much I could do to completely doom a pregnancy either….)

The biggest challenge of any future pregnancy will be learning to let go. Let go of control. Control that, actually, I have never had in the first place.

The biggest challenge of any future pregnancy will be acknowledging and accepting my lack of control. There, that sounds right.

Anyways, here are the details and highlights:

• I had the same nurse that I’ve had at all my visits to this particular office. I never visited this location until after we lost the boys, so in some ways it wasn’t as hard to go back, compared to my regular OB.
• I had a new doctor! This is saying something, because there are 15 doctors in this practice and I’ve seen most of them. I collect perinatal doctors like playing cards.
• Dr. LS was a fast talker, but very understanding and informative, with a good sense of humor. He even copied things out of medical books for me. I appreciate doctors that will explain things in layman's terms, but also aren’t afraid to give you all the information.
• Dr. LS’s best quote of the day: “If anyone tells you to relax, you can smack them.” Thank you (and I may take you up on that if needed)!!
• They are redoing some of my blood work to check for any changes—specifically, looking for any clotting disorders or autoimmune things.
• Dr. LS instructed me to take baby aspirin, starting when we begin TTC.
• My blood pressure was a bit high when I first arrived, but by the end of the visit it had gone down to normal. That was a relief! I seem to have developed a case of "white coat hypertension." :-)
• Another quote: “If things stay normal, we’ll treat you like you’re normal.” (What I wouldn’t give to have a pregnancy be considered “normal.”)
• Also, Dr. LS said that in early, severe cases like mine, if the woman gets past the time when pre-e appeared last time, many times pre-e will not occur again.

That’s about it! We are very, very thankful for a (nearly) green light from the docs, pending blood work. We are thankful for their optimism, wisdom, and the chance to try this again. I have some hurdles to face, and I anticipate a future pregnancy being very stressful and difficult. But I know that there are so many women who are facing, and have overcome, obstacles much greater than mine. Those women will be a source of strength and inspiration in the months to come.

God is Good

When you doubt God’s goodness, you doubt the very core of who he is. Love and compassion and kindness are not his attributes. They are his heart and soul. They are not his hobbies. They are the lifeblood of who he is. They are his fingerprints and his breath. They are his everything.

—Stuff Christians Like blog,
"Having Faith Like Robert Pattinson", June 23, 2010

As long as I've been a Christian, I have believed that God is good. But when the boys died my ideas of faith and God were called into question. For the first time in my life, I felt disappointed by God. If that doesn't shake one's belief system to the core, I don't know what would. Was God really as good as I'd always believed?

For several months after Asher & Evan were born and died, I wrestled with this thought. I could still say "God is good," and know it in my head, but in my heart I felt conflicted. How could a good God take away my precious children? I realize that one day in heaven is better than a lifetime on earth, but why did He do this to me? I knew God was there, but in my heart I wrestled with Him.

"Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him" —Job 13:15a

In the end it all came down to this question: Do I believe that God is who He says He is? For if I could not believe that God is who He says He is, how could I believe Him about anything? It was a pivotal moment for me. For the first time in my life I was asked to really CHOOSE to believe or not believe. My faith cannot rest on my comfort, on some abstract idea that "my life is good, so God must be good." I was confronted with the fact that my faith must be built on TRUTH, and this was a test of whether or not it is. Does my faith in God depend on my circumstances, or the TRUTH of who He is? When life sucks does that mean He has changed? Do I believe God is the same today as He was yesterday?

After much wrestling, I reached a point of peace. My God is the same today, tomorrow, and forever. He was the exact same God the day I learned I was pregnant, the day we learned it was twins, the day my babies were born and died. He is the same. He does not change.

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. —Hebrews 13:8

I finally feel like I can say that again. My God is very good. This fact does not shift or change with my emotions or circumstances. God's character is not dependent on me. I choose every day to believe that He is good, no matter what.

Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever. —1 Chronicles 16:34

You Should Read This Book!

We all grieve differently, and we all hide portions of it in places we wouldn't dare let others see. I have been reminded that I am daily battling an enemy who would love nothing more than for me to shove all my baggage into the crevices of darkness, slam the doors, and pretend I have it all together while I secretly fall apart. As I lie in bed at night and wonder what I could have done differently, he laughs victoriously. He looks on while my marriage suffers and I play the role of happy homemaker because everyone else seems to have their act together.
-- Angie Smith, I Will Carry You

I am just about finished with the book "I Will Carry You" by Angie Smith. Angie's daughter, Audrey, was given a terminal diagnosis during Angie's pregnancy. Angie chose to carry Audrey to term and this book chronicles her experience, her journey through grief, and how Audrey changed her life.

Although my situation is different from Angie's, our journeys through grief have had many similarities. I really admire Angie's faith and authenticity as she shares her story. She is honest about her doubts, her questions, her wrestling with God. She has struggled with many of the same questions I have, and dealt with many of the same emotions. This book could also be good for anyone who knows someone grieving a loss, and wants to better relate to their friend. This book says things I would like to tell others about my loss, and how to relate to me in light of it, but in a more eloquent way than I ever could.

I really admire Angie's daily efforts to learn how to live in this strange place of loss and redemption. I identify with her struggles to daily choose faith over fear, hope over despair. I share her "clumsy" (she said it, not me!) dance of grief and joy, as I learn how to exist in this world without my children. And I really admire how many lives she has touched through her experience, and the amazing impact her daughter had on this world during her short time here. It's a powerful book, and I hope you'll pick it up! (cue Reading Rainbow music)

:::

On an unrelated note, we're about to go to a graduation party for our neighbor's daughter. The panic is setting in... will anyone ask if we have children? I can almost guarantee someone will. And I still don't know how I want to answer this question. Perhaps I'll just throw up on their shoes... that couldn't be any more awkward than telling them I have two dead babies, right?

I came across this quote in an article on the Grieve Out Loud blog today:

Comfort is the one thing you cannot get by looking for it.
If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end:
if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth–
only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin with and, in the end, despair.
~C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

Trust and Trying Again

I spent a great evening with one of my very best friends last night. What was meant to be dinner after work turned into a 4-hour-long gabfest about everything from faith to poverty to poop (seriously). It was so, so good for my heart.

My friend M and her husband are planning to start trying to get pregnant in the near future. I am so thrilled for them, and excited! I was also so happy that she gave me some advance warning. She had the discernment to know that I would be more prepared to react happily (and appropriately) if I knew it was coming.

Today is a slow-ish day for me at work (where did that come from??) and so I've found myself perusing new blogs, including babyloss blogs that I haven't seen before. And thinking. Thinking about "trying again." Trying to have more children. The idea is both exciting and terrifying with a capital T. The stories out there in blog world are not always cherry and happy and "of course the next time will be better." They are real, and hard, and blunt reminders that not everyone gets a happy ending. I find myself pulled between a desire to throw caution to the wind and Just Do It (insert Ni.ke logo here), and a desire to plan everything out, get my affairs in order, and go about things very methodically and slowly. There is no part of me that DOESN'T want to try again. My longing for children on this earth is too strong. Depiste the statistics and the possibility that I may have to endure the same horrible outcome, I can't silence this desire to be a mother to a living child.

I told J last weekend that I am ready to start talking about trying again. I am by no means ready to actually DO anything about it, but I am ready to start the process of, well, processing. I'm the type of person that has to hash everything out, so I imagine there will be many long conversations, many tough conversations. I need to be realistic here. I need to find a balance between realism and hope.

So, I told J I am ready, and I wanted him to know that, but that HE could let me know when he is ready as well. The ball is in his court. He didn't say anything that day. He hasn't said anything since. We have plenty of other issues going on right now, so I would not be surprised if it was quite some time before he is ready to talk. But it's out there.

And all the while, I know God is whispering in my ear, "Do you trust Me??" Because that's all it comes down to. That is all I can control in this whole situation. My life is not my own. All I can do is trust. I say "all," but it is a big "all." And it is so hard to do. But the more I reflect the more I realize that it is ALL I need to do, and all I can do, and it is good enough.

But I am still scared. Lord, help me to trust You more!

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

— 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

Can I get a Do-over?

This weekend did not go quite as planned.

We had planned to have a garage sale on Saturday, participating in the all-city garage sale day. We'd been (OK, I'd been) counting on this day for several months. We had signs, money to make change, all our wares neatly arranged on borrowed folding tables, everything priced to sell.

We started out at 8 am. While J went to get us breakfast at Caribou (he read my mind!) I cheerily made our first (and what would become our only) sale of $1.

At about 10:30, the sky got seriously ominous looking. "This wasn't in the forecast!" I insisted. Indeed, the current weather still said nothing about rain. We nudged our tables closer to the garage and prepared for a mad dash. And then it started raining, and HAILING. We quickly carried everything back inside, shut the garage door, and went inside. It rained for several more hours, enough to effectively cancel our garage sale.

We decided to try again next weekend. We will have another sale. No big deal. Seriously, I mean it's disappointing, but it's just a garage sale, right? And yet as I told myself these things, I began to cry. Fully aware at the ridiculousness of crying about a failed garage sale, of all things. But at the same time I knew that it wasn't really about the garage sale.

Disappointment has been a prevailing emotion since we lost the boys. To put it bluntly, I am used to things working out or me. I don't say that like I'm so awesome, but I am not used to failure. I am not used to plans failing so catastrophically. Losing the boys was by far the biggest disappointment of my life. And ever since that, any time plans fall through it hits me extra hard. It takes me right back to the largest failure of my entire life: failing to "follow through" and complete my pregnancy, ending with two healthy little boys. Now, every little disappointment only reminds me of that.

Something else that contributed to my disproportionate response is that is takes so darn much energy to get excited about anything lately. I was exhausted by the task, by trying to psych myself up for it, and by the let-down of all that energy going to waste.

:::

Also this weekend, some friends of our gave birth to healthy, BIG (7 lbs each at 35 weeks!!) twin girls. I am happy for them. But I cannot talk about it, or say more than that. I am really, truly happy for them, I am. But it just hurts way too much to think about it. I'm taking the week off from Facebook, so I can miss the congratulating, well-wishing, and photos. I really feel like a big jerk. And yet so helpless to feel any other way. Ugh.

:::

So, the weekend was hard. There were other things, but I've whined enough to give you an idea.

On the plus side, we heard a great sermon on Sunday about suffering, and the Good News amidst it all. Our church has gone through a LOT of stuff over the last couple of years. Lots of births, deaths, medical diagnoses, cancer, job loss, etc, etc, etc. In fact, our pastor had a list (without names, of course) of some events we've gone through as a body, and it was pretty amazing to see. The whole point was that life is hard, but we have hope. I am trying to hang onto that truth this week.


In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.
—John 16:33

The Valley Song

by Jars of Clay

You have led me to the sadness
I have carried this pain
On a back bruised, nearly broken
I'm crying out to you

I will sing of Your mercy
That leads me through valleys of sorrow
To rivers of joy

When death like a gypsy
Comes to steal what I love
I will still look to the heavens
I will still seek your face

But I fear you aren't listening
Because there are no words
Just the stillness and the hunger
For a faith that assures

I will sing of Your mercy
That leads me through valleys of sorrow
To rivers of joy

Alleluia, alleluia
Alleluia, alleluia

While we wait for rescue
With our eyes tightly shut
Face to the ground using our hands
To cover the fatal cut

And though the pain is an ocean
Tossing us around, around, around
You have calmed greater waters
Higher mountains have come down

Alleluia, alleluia
Alleluia, alleluia

Oh, Lord sing of Your mercy,
Mercy
Your mercy

Signs of Healing

I attended church alone this morning for the first time in several months. J often has worship stuff on Sunday mornings, and until today I found myself unable to sit in church without him. It was just too much—the music, the babies, the people. I would spend the entire service simply trying not to cry. It wasn't even worth going, because I didn't hear a word of the sermon. I was too absorbed in my own pain.

This reaction has always seemed odd, because the church has been one of our biggest sources of support through all of this. Everyone there wants only to love us. And yet I couldn't stand being there without the buffer and protection of J by my side.

We've been able to go together several times over the last month, which seems to have helped. This morning, I got up and got to church myself, enjoyed worship, was able to listen to the sermon. No tears! I even chatted with a couple people after service, instead of making a beeline for door. It seems small, but this is a significant thing for me! I feel good knowing that I am doing better than I was a couple months ago. It is encouraging, too, since the last 3 weeks have felt very dark and difficult. Little by little, I am healing.

Encouragement

I've been having a lot of trouble lately with my emotions. I've even been questioning God, and doubting His faithfulness. If I'm being 100% honest, I feel disappointed with Him for how things turned out with Asher & Evan. That is a terrifying thing to admit. But I know that God already knows how I feel, and He will be with me through my doubts.

This morning I had a follow up appointment with my eye doctor, and I was reminded that God is there, and He is faithful to me. I have some damage to my retina because of the pre-e, and it has resulted in the loss of a little bit of my central vision. This sounds scary—OK, is scary—but I still have 20/20 vision (with contacts) and the distortion to my retina is very mild (says the doctor). I was reminded today how much worse things could have gotten. How very, very much worse. While I am complaining that I have a couple of spots in my eyes, I should be thanking God that I am not blind. Seriously. I can still read, drive, do my job, etc. Praise God for saving my sight through all of this!

Another encouragement came this morning from a blog I read, by a girl (Kerry) who recently lost her baby girl. I don't know her personally, but I have felt a connection through our similar experiences. She had a great video that lifted my spirits, and reminded me that GOD IS GOD. No matter where I am, no matter my circumstance, God is God. That will not change. I am thankful for the reminder this morning, and the encouragement to keep pressing on. I really needed it, and God knew exactly what I needed today.

Happy Easter!

But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. —Isaiah 53:5

It's an absolutely beautiful, sunny day outside. A wonderful day to remember and celebrate the death and resurrection of JESUS my Savior. And as our pastor pointed out this morning, it is not just Jesus who was resurrected to new life, but I am also living a new life because of Him! Because of Jesus, I don't need to fear death, because death is not the end. Death is not the end, and WAS not the end for Asher and Evan. I know my boys are rejoicing today and enjoying a party in Heaven. I miss them terribly. They should be here, in cute little Easter outfits. I selfishly want them here, even know I know they are somewhere far, far better.

How is it possible to feel happy and heartbroken all at the same moment? Such is my life.

I've wanted to post several times this week, but work has been so ridiculously busy! I haven't had much energy for anything else.

On my heart today is a girl named Kerry. She is in the hospital with Pre-e/HELLP, and is being induced tomorrow. Her baby girl will most likely not survive. My heart just breaks for her. I remember the day we had to decide to induce delivery. It was one of the worst days of my life. I would never wish this excruciating journey on anyone. Kerry and her family are heavy on my heart, and in my prayers today. It's amazing how many people out there have been affected by this horrible disease that I'd barely heard of, before it happened to me. It seems so unfair.

This past week has been pretty good overall. We had our first appointment with a grief counselor on Thursday afternoon. The counselor seemed very kind and compassionate, and I think we'll be a good fit. She told us that it seems like we are doing really well, considering. There's something comforting about having a professional say that, especially when I feel like a psycho half the time! For our next session, J and I are supposed to think of things in our relationship that have been frustrating (related to our grief), and topics for discussion. Basically, how the counselor can help us.

Last weekend we went to the Minnea.polis Insti.tute of Arts. We hadn't gone to a museum together in quite a while. It was fine, but I was in kind of a funk that day. I find it difficult to enjoy doing things as much as I used to. We were in the contemporary section when a mother and her little boy came in. The mom was asking the boy all kinds of questions about the art, and really engaging him in the visit. It was exactly what I've always imagined J and I doing with our kids. My heart broke all over again, and I totally lost in in the middle of the museum. Our boys are supposed to be here. We should be looking forward to their first museum trip. It made me feel so lonely.

Of course after that, all I could see were the little boys everywhere in the museum. I swear it was "Bring Your Adorable Son to the Museum" Day. Every time we'd turn a corner I'd think "Are you KIDDING me!?!" because there would be another cute little boy with his parents. We left soon after.

Those are the kind of things that make me feel psycho. I cannot predict when I'm going to be hit especially hard by something. Grief feels like a mental illness in that way. My reactions and emotions can be so unpredictable, and leave me feeling completely vulnerable. That may be part of the reason I don't enjoy going out and doing things quite as much—I always have to be on my guard for potential emotional minefields. I don't know what will set me off. At any moment I will step on a soft spot, and BAM! burst into tears. A lot of times I don't have the energy for it, so I'd rather stay home.

Luckily, J is not letting me stay home. And I have no intentions of becoming a hermit, really, so we keep trying. I feel bad that he has to deal with my explosions. They must feel even more unpredictable to him.

Anyways. The weather is amazing lately, which helps my mood. Tomorrow is Easter. I'm hoping to take some time to sit and meditate on the amazing gift of Jesus, and His death on the cross. I honestly haven't thought a lot about it yet this season. But it is all that I have, and all that keeps me going. I'm so glad for the hope I have in Him, even when I don't focus on it as much as I should. I hope tomorrow isn't hard... it will be the first extended family gathering since the boys were born. It should have been their first family holiday, or I should have missed it because I was about to pop. It's hard to say when they would have arrived, but I sure wish they were here now.

Wishin', and Hopin', Plannin' and Dreamin''

Do I dare even "say" this aloud....?

WE ARE GOING TO COSTA RICA!!!!!!

(!!!!!!!)

I am so excited I could scream! We've been thinking about our summer trip for quite a while, and Costa Rica has been in my head as a possible spot to go, after our week at Faith's Lodge. But, we had to wait and see how some things would shake out financially, before we could really determine what kind of vacation we can afford. Well, thanks to a very nice tax refund, we can totally afford to travel to Costa Rica!!!!!!

The idea of going back there practically makes me cry, I love it so much! I've wanted to return ever since I studied there during college. And going back with J so that we can experience it together... it's too awesome to even think about!

I have to admit, as off-the-wall excited as I feel, I am also hesitant to get that excited, because, well... our plans haven't exactly panned out lately (obviously). This may be something to cover in our upcoming counseling sessions. I often feel like the ground has been pulled out from under me. How could I possibly plan for anything, or hope for anything, when the harsh reality that things CAN and DO go wrong has smacked me right in the face? I've always been a worrier, but now I sometimes go around half expecting to trip and fall at any moment. I think that I'm going to die in my sleep. I worry that Jason won't make it home from work. Bad things have happened to me, and I find it challenging to hope and look forward to the good, because my experience has jaded me. It has been a major shock to my system.

Commit to the LORD whatever you do, and your plans will succeed.
Proverbs 16:2-4

Then there's this verse. I would certainly like to think that we committed every aspect of our pregnancy to God... but our plans didn't succeed. So what does that mean? Maybe we didn't fully commit our plans to Him? OR is this a case where His will/plan overrides this verse? I don't know what to think anymore. I am having a lot of trouble with this verse today.

Well, enough of this rambly post. The good news is, a trip to Costa Rica is (Lord willing) in our future! Yay!

2 Things

1. This morning on the radio they read a list of "Top 10 Classiest Baby Names." Before they even got to the list, I had a feeling one of my babies' names would be on it.

Number 5 classiest boys' name? Asher.
Gosh I love hearing their names. Anywhere, any time. It always feels special, I can't explain it.

2. We went out to dinner with Dad and L a couple evenings ago, and L was being very purposeful and thoughtful in talking about the boys. I guess J told her how much we appreciate people mentioning them, using their names, etc. It was very nice and I could tell she was making an effort. She eventually said that D, my stepbrother, talks about them sometimes. He reminds her that even though Asher and Evan aren't here, she is still a grandma, and he is still an uncle. Can I tell you how that melted my heart? I totally lost it and started crying, I was so touched. Any time I hear of someone talking about my boys without my being there or instigating the conversation, it absolutely fills my heart with joy. My greatest wish is that they not be forgotten, and it blesses me so much to find out when other people remember them.

I hope that my babies have left an impact on this world, even though their time here was short. I know God had a purpose for their lives. Even though I know, of course my whole family has been touched by them, it's nice to be reminded that I'm not the only one loving and missing them. :-)

Well, it's Thursday again. Sometimes I feel myself waiting, just killing time each day. I catch myself in the evenings, just kind of "waiting it out" until I can go to bed. Often times I would be perfectly content to sit and do nothing until the day is over. I don't often have any particular excitement or anticipation of the next day, it just "is." This is a feeling I do not like, and when I notice it I try to make myself do something, to make the day worthwhile. But I've noticed that feeling cropping up more often lately. Something to watch out for, for sure. I don't want to let the months just pass me by, without feeling or enjoying anything in particular. A quick look back through my entries on this blog shows me that, yes, I do in fact have days that I feel joy and happiness. So that's good. If I ever get to a point where I have this feeling for weeks, I will know there is a problem. If nothing else, this blog will be useful to keep track of/monitor my spiral into insanity—ha.

In honor of Thankful Thursday, today I am thankful to be alive. No further explanation is needed, I'm sure. But I read some preeclampisa stories this morning, and it is breathtakingly terrifying how similar some of the stories are to mine, except those women died. God was surely watching out for me and preserving my life, because there were many, many opportunities for my illness to get out of control. I could have had a seizure while driving to the clinic to check my BP. Heck I could have ignored my instinct and not even had it checked! Then what? I shudder to think of it. I could have gotten much, much sicker, much, much faster. I could have bled to death. Honestly, I know I've talked about this before and I don't want to be a broken record, BUT I am so lucky to be alive. SO LUCKY. Surely God saved my life for a reason. He must have a plan and a purpose for me. I will praise Him as long as I live!

Good Day Sunshine

Today has been a really good day. It's a nice contrast to most weekends, when grief seems to hit harder than during the week. I feel good today—kind of a foreign feeling, but I'll take it.

J and I have spent the whole day together. This morning he worked on freelance while I started a Cuban stew in the crock pot. In the afternoon we went for a nice long walk. Then we did some errands, including finding a thrift store book for me to use for collages. I've had lots of ideas floating around in my head, so I'm glad that some of them can now be realized. We also bought a steam mop (thrill!) which promises to revolutionize the way we clean our floors.

This afternoon we also had a nice rendezvous, which was unexpected and GREAT, and in addition to time spent together last night. That alone would make me one happy girl. :-)

The stew turned out well, and we've just been hanging around the house tonight. J doesn't have to get up early tomorrow, so things feel nice and relaxed. I made my first collage, after the song "Stop and Stare." It feels good to 1) do something creative and 2) express my feelings in a different/artistic way.

That's about it! It may be two steps forward, one step back, but I am so thankful for those tiny steps forward. God is good.