Layers

"It never ceases to amaze me how we pray and pray to see God's hands move.  Yet, even when we do we still fight against the work He is trying to accomplish."

Like a craftsman preparing to restore a damaged piece of furniture, I can feel Him using this time, stripping away the layers of my pride and independence.  Yet my entire being is kicking, screaming, and crying out in agony with each pass of the blade.  My body and mind are tired, my soul is weary, and the pain is real.   I am scared of how much more He will ask of me, I am not sure I how much more I can take.  So how do I willfully surrender to this discomfort?  How do I "count it all joy" as we are urged to in James 1 when my spirit is anything but joyful? 

I think that this is the crux of my relationship with Christ, this inability to fully release the grasp I have on what I consider "mine."  My independence has at times defined me and I relished in the ability to "do it all," but how many times did it blind me to occasions He presented?  How many opportunities did I miss to share His goodness, His grace, or His comfort because I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts and desires? 

Perhaps what I thought was an integral part of "me" the Lord looked at more as thick coat of poly. Something that covered up the reality of what was hidden underneath with a shiny exterior, one that looked good but was also impenetrable.  What if what I thought of as a shield others saw merely as hard?  Maybe it is only through the painful scraping of each layer that Christ can be seen, when we are exposed, when we are raw and unprotected, that His work can be completed.  Maybe it is only through my brokenness that others can see His light in me. 
    

"My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the trying of your faith worketh patience.  But let patience have it's perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing."  James 1:2-4

Beauty from Ashes

Chiffon, tulle, and satin spilled from the racks, transforming the room into a thing of beauty with little effort.  This was a place of magic, this bridal store that held within its confines the dress that I would wear when I pledged my life to my forever love.  My hands couldn't help but reach out and touch the gowns that I had spent hours perusing online.  The "perfect" dress was already pulled in anticipation of my arrival and as I stood in the dressing room I drank in the moment, overwhelmed by the magnitude of emotions that coursed through my veins, overcome by the reality of the event, this moment in time of which little girls dream.  The satin skimmed against my skin and I relished the feeling of "my" gown as it hugged my body in  all the right places.

I stepped onto the platform fully expecting to love what I saw yet instead I HATED it.  This dress that adorned my desk in countless pictures was not at all what I was expecting, not at all what I was wanting.  My mom instantly noticed the distress on my face and my sisters ran to pull countless options from the overflowing racks.  Dress after dress was met with disappointment until only two remained.  One a beautiful mermaid flare that fit like a glove, but covered with lace, an option I had never even considered, it didn't seem like me.  The other an A-Line adorned with beautiful scroll work forming a cross on the train and delicate pearl detailing along the bust.  The design I loved, the fit I despised.

Not willing to commit to either I left the salon frustrated, irritated, and saddened by the prospect of being unable to find "the" dress.  My mom felt like it would serve me well to take a step back so we went to a local mall.  My sisters were concerned, none of the joy that should be present on such a day was evident in my demeanor.  When I squealed over the procurement of a denim jacket they all felt the day was lost. 

Pregnancy for me is much like that trip.  It was something I dreamed of, something I prayed for, something I looked forward to with joy and anticipation.  Yet after two miscarriages, one micro-preemie, one full term delivery, the diagnosis of an incompetent cervix, an emergent cerclage, and 14 weeks of bed rest, it is instead a journey riddled with trepidation, anxiety, and fear. A constant awareness that the light at the end of the tunnel just might be a train.

No one prepares you for the "ugly" side of this experience and in truth no one can.  Each road is different requiring first hand travel for knowledge to be gained and wisdom garnered.  No one can explain the depth of hurt that follows the loss of a child or the sea of emotions that accompany seeing your daughter fight for a life full of unknowns.  No one can prepare you for the emotions that come when the bottom falls out once again or foresee the sacrifices required to bring a healthy child into this world.

We headed back to store for one last attempt and were met at the door by their seamstress who was convinced she could combine the fit of the one with the design of the other.  I slipped into the A-Line again and watched skeptically as she pulled and pinned, clipped and folded the gown, shaping it into something new entirely.  After what seemed liked hours she stepped back and told me to look.  I did, and was amazed at the transformation that had taken place.  Something I despised had been turned into a thing of beauty...

 



Our Lord, like the seamstress, is waiting to make something of beauty from situations that to us seem impossible. We are promised in Isaiah 61:3 that the Lord will "...provide for those who grieve...to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of His splendor."  Sometimes we just have to open our eyes.     

Please Lord may mine be open...

Strength

Thanks to a sweet friend I am working through BRAVE , my first Angela Thomas study, and so far I am throughly enjoying it.  The premise of the study is finding biblical answers to the honest questions that women ask.  With weekly topics like "I Am Worn Out," "I Am Suffering A Thorn," "I Am Undisciplined," "I Am Trembling Inside," "I Am Invisible," and "I Am Broken" it seems to cover the entire range of emotions that accompany this journey.  I LOVE watching how God weaves the words that we need to hear into our lives at the perfect moment and as I read through this weeks lessons I was overcome by the knowledge that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. 

The study delved into Isaiah 40:28-31..."Do you not know?  Have you not heard?  The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.  He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom.  He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.  Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles, they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." 

I have heard verse 31 on countless occasions but have never really paid attention to those verses that preceed it.  I am so thankful that she presented it in a manner that made me.  How awesome is it that we serve a God that will not grow weary and is perfect in His understanding?  It is so easy to feel isolated and alone during this journey, so easy to be overcome by the thought that no one understands, but these verses give hope.  In fact they say that if we put OUR hope in the Lord that will renew our strength.  I needed that.  I needed to know that I am not alone, that not only does someone understand but they do so perfectly, and that I need to only place my hope in Him to receive renewal. 

The longer I am on bed rest the more convinced I become that this battle is primarily a mental one.  Don't get me wrong the physical aches and pains are real but it is the war raging in my head that has the ability to debilitate me. 

 

How refreshing it is to know that when I am weary He is strong, when I am overcome by the darkness He is the perfect light.   

Paint

As the days go by I am beginning to find myself frustrated with the routine that I have established. What once was comforting is now irritating, the monotony is starting to take its toll. It's almost as though I contracted the mid-semester blues like so many of did in college. Those classes we were so excited to take consistently fell from grace after 7 weeks in the classroom. Yet I can now change my schedule without fear of losing my scholarship and today I took full advantage of the freedom to do so.

I silenced the alarms on my phone and quickly gathered materials, the smile on my face returning as I stared at the blank canvas before me. Back and forth my brush began adding layer upon layer of color, bringing life and warmth to what was once cold and barren.

I used the dark to outline the bright, to highlight the richness within, and as I examined my work I couldn't help but wonder if our lives werw any different?

It is so easy for me to imagine God...shading and developing me into the servant He wants me be. Yet upon closer inspection it is with life that He paints. The joys and sorrows, the laughter a and the tears, all blended together to make a thing of wonder. What if it is those times of darkness that truly amplify His light? What if it only through the trials that we finally see the beauty of the work He is creating no matter how painful it may be?

When the Rain Comes

I am tired of this game.  Today marks our half way point, 47 days spent in bed or on the couch, 6 and a half weeks spent rewiring myself from staunchly independent to willingly dependent.  I marked this day on my calendar thinking it would be one of excitement and celebration.  Instead, it has been one of anxiety and darkness.  The thought of 47 MORE days spent doing the same is enough to send me into a downward spiral.  One where sleep envelopes me, gently providing at least a temporary respite from the reality of this thing called bed rest.

I understand that this situation is temporary.  That blessings are tiny specs of light in the this midnight colored world and that I must only lift my eyes to the heavens in order to see them.  But to be honest even that simple act seems too much right now.  I can feel myself pulling away, retreating into the depths of my own self trying to cope yet feeling so inadequate.  At least the darkness feels authentic, the light feels artificial. 

Tears flow over the strangest situations further indicating the extent of my instability, yet even in this I cling to the fact that darkness can only last for a time.  Just as day repeatedly banishes the night, the blessings will once again outweigh the inconveniences if I allow them to.  God has ordained my time here and I will praise Him through this storm, when the winds rage and the rains come, I will praise Him. 

Lessons Learned

• Time with God is always time well spent.
• No matter how hard I try I will never be everything to everyone.
• My husband's arms have miraculous powers. When I am wrapped in them, they make everything else fade away.
• New sweats can be just as exciting as a new dress...it just depends on the time in your life.
• Accepting help doesn't mean I am weak it means that I am smart enough to know I can't do everything on my own.  
• My children don't care about the BIG things in life.  It's the cuddles, the stories, the giggles, and the games that make their day.
• If the floors aren't mopped and the counters aren't clean life will go on.
• Life happens in the minute not the milestones. 
• Not every day is going to be a good one.  Anticipate and appreciate the valleys...without them you wouldn't understand the beauty of the view from the mountain top.
• If the girls clothes don't match it isn't the end of the world...especially if they are out with Daddy.
• Fuzzy socks make even the worst day a little bit brighter.
• Having a "to do" list is good but knowing when to throw it out the window is even better.
• Embracing the life I have been given ensures that one day I won't look back and wonder where it went.
• Investing in people instead of things has a much higher ROI.
• Admitting you are not perfect takes strength, realizing you don't want to be displays wisdom. 
• Most days the only thing I have control over is my attitude.  Good or bad, that one thing changes 99% of the way I view everything else.
• Friends make life 100xs sweeter.
• The best place to cry is the shower.
• Books are way cheaper than plane tickets and sometimes the trip is even more exciting.
• Alone time will never have the same meaning.
• Sometimes life is hard but God is ALWAYS good.

26 and 3

August 16, 2005 started out like any other morning. 

3am
ERR...ERR...ERR...ERR...  Flailing in the darkness I silenced the alarm that threatened to  disturb my sleeping husband and quietly as possible I rolled my ever growing body out of bed.  Replaying the events that had taken place the night before I had to giggle,  "Hurry up Bethany otherwise we are never going to be able to take a walk," my mother called.  I groaned and pushed heavily to my feet, my back protesting the movement.  "I just don't think my body is made to be fat."

I showered quickly and dressed for the day amazed at the way my belly stuck out from under my uniform making it appear as though I was wearing a tent instead of a shirt and after struggling to tie my shoes I tiptoed to the door.  Opening and closing it without a sound I stepped into the dark.  There was something about the stillness of the morning and the crisp feel of the air surrounding my body that made me feel alive, new, in awe.  The stars were just beginning to fade as I climbed into my car and headed to work.  Unwilling to break the silence I mentally ran through the list of things that needed to be accomplished before the day was complete. 

4am
Work...meeting with my advisor...walk...groceries...the list continued until I pulled into my parking space and turned off the engine.  My abdomen tightened as I opened my door but I shrugged it off due to the normal aches and pains of pregnancy.  I was 26 wks and 2 days so the growing and stretching was in full swing and after the loss of two babies I was relishing each kick, pull, and jab no matter how painful they might be. 

6am
I went about my morning duties occasionally noting the recurrence of the tightening.  Over and over I would feel the twinge and although I was convinced that I was imagining things I began a log.  Within an hour a pattern was evident.  My mind raced as I typed "signs of preterm labor" into the search engine on the office computer. 

6:30am
I clicked on the March of Dimes link and my heart stopped, the world around me fading into the background.  Contractions...change in VD...pelvic pressure...low, dull backache...pelvic cramps...abdominal cramps...six symptoms and I had four. The incessant ringing of the phone seemed to last an eternity as I waited for the on call doctor to pick up.  Finally he answered and after a five minute discussion I was asked to come in for observation.  "I am sure you are fine" were his words "Everything was perfect on Friday..."  "Let's just be on the safe side" 

7am
Dialing my husband's number I once again waited anxiously.  He answered in a groggy state of mind trying valiently to make sense of the rapid stream of words being hurled at him.  Finally, something broke through and he understood that I was on my way home and we had to head to hospital.  Hanging up I crumbled...what was going to happen, how would this end up?  The trail of questions left little room for any other thoughts.  Motor memory took over and before I could comprehend what had taken place I arrived home.

7:40am
Silently I changed out of my uniform and into pink lounge pants, a white maternity tank and a NIKE ball cap.  Reassurances poured in as news spread of the situation yet for some reason I was unable to feel any of the hope that they tried to give.  Over and over prayers were whispered.  Pleas that everything would be alright.  That the baby growing within me would be safe.  That the labor (if that was what it was) could be stopped. 

8am
My mom arrived and the three of us headed outside to load up.  I was climbing into the back of the truck to lay down when I heard the hubs say something about a camera.  Angry, I thought how a camera was unneeded...even if this baby did come today there was no way they would make it.  Attempts at small talk did little to calm my nerves and soon a heavy silence fell upon the cab, each of us enveloped in our own thoughts, our own "what ifs."

9am
Within an hour we were on the elevators that would take us to L and D.  I felt sick to my stomach and the tightness that had subsided during our trip had returned. The unknown that waited beyond those doors was overwhelming.  My feet seemed glued to the ground as they opened.  I couldn't do this.  I shouldn't have to do this.  This wasn't supposed to be happening.

One foot followed the other until we arrived at our room.  This just wasn't right...I had dreamed of the day I would deliver our baby but never did the dream go like this.  It was always surrounded by feelings of joy and happiness not trepidation and fear.  Numbly I changed into the hospital gown and answered question after question from the nursing staff.  Charts were filled out, tests were run, but all with a certain nonchalance. 

10:30am
The midwife arrived, boisterous and bubbly, convinced that although I was contracting, this baby was far from being born.  She reviewed exercises that would help with my lower back ache, even going so far as to get on all fours on the hospital floor to demonstrate, and discussed options for treatment if an infection was evident. 

The on call doctor stepped into our room and he repeated many of her sentiments, sure that nothing would take place anytime soon.  He ordered that a shot of surfactant be administered "Just be on the safe side..."

13:15pm
The calm was beginning to return, the medical professionals were convinced that it was "nothing" so it must be.  I joked with my mom...apologized to my husband, I know I woke him but I would make it up, promise.  At that moment a nurse walked in holding my lab reports.  The peace shattered instantly.  The fetal fibronectin (fFN), a test indicating the possibility of labor within two weeks...had come back positive.  The joking and nonchalance disappeared as options were presented and plans were set into motion for a transfer. 

14:00pm
The hubs was sent downstairs to grab a bite to eat while arrangements for the helicopter could be made.  Right after he left the contractions came on like a tidal wave and what was going to be a flight including myself and my husband now had to include a doctor willing to fly with me in what was considered an unstable condition.  The on call doctor agreed and plans were once again put into motion.  Despite their best efforts the contractions still couldn't be controlled and what they thought would be hours at the earliest turned to minutes at the most.  My mom frantically called my husband "It's happening..."  There would be no time for a helicopter, no time for a transfer, the baby was coming, and it was coming NOW.

14:45pm
Our room was suddenly flooded with nurses and staff, all rushing to make the needed preparations for our child's imminent birth.  I grabbed my hat and pulled the brim over my eyes trying to drown everything out, concentrating instead on breathing through the contractions.  The husband, trying to take my mind off of the situation began discussing names.."Brayden Luke if it's a boy right? And Mayce Grace if it's a girl?  How are we going to spell Mayce."  "M-A-Y-C-E" escaped before I could give it much thought.

15:34pm
Moments later I was told to push.  With each contraction both the fear and the pain became a little more overwhelming until the words "It's a girl" cut through the darkness.  I looked up to see this TINY but perfectly formed little girl that they said was ours.  She cried once before being rushed off to the waiting nurses and pediatrician, each of them frantically pulling from all of their medical training as they struggled to stabilize our precious little bitty. 

 

While they worked on her, the midwife and obsetrician worked on me.  Within minutes they knew the source of my preterm labor.  An infection raged within my body and Mayce's only hope of survival was to get out.

Shortly after her arrival our pastor joined us in recovery and upon learning her name he announced that she was certainly an example of "God's aMAYCEing GRACE."  Although I agreed with him in the moment is wasn't until much later that I was able to see how true that statement was.  God's hand had been evident the entire time I was just too blind to see it.

He had then just as He has now provided a way for our sweet little girl. 

Today on January 29, 2013? I am thankful to be 26 and 3. 

 

  

The Little Things

There is something about being stuck in a bed for 23hrs a day that makes you take account of your life and those things that you allow to fill it.  Family, friends, jobs, hobbies, books, TV shows, blogs, the list could go on for miles in my case.  Unfortunately, being surrounded by so much "stuff" means that sometimes I miss out on the little things.  The minute details that make such a big difference.

 

 A handmade bracelet from MG...

 

A handwritten note from a sweet friend...

 

 A new adventure to begin...

  

A card filled with His hope...

 

Tiny fingers that make me grin...

 

A box of sunshine filled to the brim...

 

 

So much of our lives (or at least mine) has been spent chasing the "big ones.  Yet the more and more I think about it, the more and more I am convinced that it is in the "details" not the "events" that life occurs.  It's in the everyday He calls us to Him. 

Roller Coaster

We are currently 33 days into this 94 day journey and today was just rough.  Our girls had a Valentines Day Mini Session (photos) and as I watched them twirl around the room in their dresses after doing their hair I was overwhelmed with how much I am missing.   And to be perfectly honest I am tired of missing out.  Even though on a logical level I understand that this is what I have been called to at the moment, that this is temporary, that time is passing (relatively) quickly, it is still hard to deal with.

I didn't go into this with illusions of grandeur, I knew when we started this "adventure" that there would be ups and downs but the emotional aspect has caught me off guard.  I swear I feel like I am on a roller coaster waiting to see what twists or turns, valleys or hills are approaching and how I am going to react.  It's much like watching a coaster run from the ground, you might have some idea of what's coming but until you are actually on the ride, you have no clue how it is going to affect you. 

The hubs has been amazing, I truly couldn't ask for more, but sometimes, just sometimes I get overwhelmed and I don't want anyone to do for me.  I want to be able to do for myself.  It's been 33 days since I have stepped foot in Wal-Mart, 33 days since I have driven a vehicle, 33 days since I have had the freedom to just "go grab" whatever I need, 33 days since I have seen my students, 33 days since I went to lunch with friends...

Yet if I allow myself to see the positives it has also been 33 days since I had to cook, 33 days since I had to run to Wal-Mart, 33 days since I had to race to school in order to get there on time, and most importantly  this precious little one within me has been given 33 more days to grow and develop.  So I am not denying that bright spots exist, it just seems that some days the darkness prevails. 

One thing I am coming to realize though is that this is not a game of perfect, nor is it a road of rainbows and butterflies.  This is a trip full of unexpected stops and countless detours but regardless of where it leads or where we end up, it's still up to me to decide whether or not I am going to bemoan or embrace it.  And I have come to realize that some days there may be moments of both.

 

You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trust in you.  Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord God is an everlasting rock.  Isaiah 26:3-4

The First Step

After we arrived home we quickly settled into a routine that involved me laying in bed and the hubs doing everything around the house.  To some it might sound like a vacation but to me it was torture.  I am ALWAYS busy with something but for the time being the Lord had called me to rest.

Christmas came and went with little fanfare, our tree came down two days later.  I think at that point it was just too much to try and deal with on top of everything else.  We were all ready for some type of normalcy to return and even something as simple as rearranging our furniture provided moments of peace in a whirlwind of emotion. 

At our follow-up appointment our doctor once again reiterated the fact that we would have lost this precious little one if we had not placed the cerclage.  My CL (cervix length) before the procedure was 1.8cm with anything under a 2 being considered a high risk situation.  As he placed the ultrasound wand on my stomach my eyes remained glued to the screen watching the cursor and waiting for the ever important measurement.  4.71cm seemed almost magical and I finally released the breath I didn't know I was holding.  Perhaps, this ride wasn't going to be so bad after all was my first thought, and then he opened his mouth to speak.

"You work don't you?"  "Well, yes I teach full-time."  "Not anymore."  My blank stare must have finally jogged something within in him because he looked at me almost apologetically and said "I really want you down.  You may use the restroom, take a shower, make a sandwich if need be, but other than that, down, until you hit 34wks." 

Inside I was screaming, but outwardly I just nodded.  I was shutting down, unable to cope, incapable of processing the fact that I would be on SBR (strict bed rest) for 13 weeks.  There is a dream like quality that existed when I look back at that day, almost as though I was walking in a fog, one that allowed me to see the edges but not the details. 

The hubs and I grabbed a quick bite to eat and he tried to make small talk but we both knew that the elephant in the room had to be addressed.  Looking back I can clearly see God's hand at work in those minutes and every one before.  "If they let me teach online than I will be ok," I told him.  It was a glimmer, a spark of hope, something that would require me to have a set schedule and that would also allow for interaction with the outside world on a daily basis.  "Do you think that they will let you?"  "I won't know until I ask." And with that the texts were sent and the waiting began. 

That moment, though short and seemingly inconsequential in the scheme of things acted as a turning point.  The fog began to dissipate and I was finally able to see that my time spent at rest was time that I still had control over.  It was time that could be spent productively or wallowing in self-pity, the choice was mine.  The paths were laid out before me I just had to take the first step. 

The Game of LIFE

Little did we know that hours later when we heard our nurse paged to the phones it was to talk with our doctor.  Fifteen minutes passed before she came in amazed and a bit bewildered.  When the words "He is sending you home" came out of her mouth I wasn't sure whether I should squeal or cry.  Obviously going home was the end goal of all of this but when so much is hinging on a part of your body that you can't see or feel make changes, there is a certain amount of reassurance that comes from being in the hospital setting.

The hubs and I just looked at one another and started laughing at the irony of it all.  The poor man had come prepared for us to stay for days and not four hours later we were repacking everything he had just hauled up to our room.  Even though we were excited to be heading home we both knew that the next few weeks were going to be very different for our family.  It wasn't until our nurse walked in with discharge papers that we found out just how much different it would really be. 

Bed rest...may be up for meals...may get up to use the bathroom...quick showers...lay on left side preferably...stay off of back...schedule follow up for the 26th.  Her voice faded in and out as I processed what this meant for our extremely active family.  We were fully expecting that I would have to take it easy but complete bed rest?  I felt like I was playing the game of LIFE and I had just drawn one of the miss a turn cards. 

"Oh dear Lord, how will the girls react, how will I teach, the hubs is on shift work how am I going to handle a 7 and a 4 year old while he is at work?"  My list of questions was mounting and my insides were starting to twist as internally I began breaking down, the calm fleeing once agian.  The stress must have been evident on my face because seconds later the hubs reached over, took my hand, and just squeezed.  It was a silent signal, a code per say, "We've got this..."

As they wheeled me down and the hubs helped me in to the car silence prevailed.  I just couldn't quite comprehend how much our lives had changed in the span of three short days.  We caught the interstate to head home and I curled up in the passenger seat looking longingly at the cars filled with what seemed to be happy, healthy families whose only concern was finishing up all the loose ends of Christmas. 

We drove for miles it seemed before the hubs broke the silence.  As he placed his hand on my leg his gentle "Hey" was enough to make me  pull me away from the window and shift in my seat to see his face.  "I've got you and we've still got her, we will make everything else work, " and you know what?  He was right. 

The Wrong Place

 

After the procedure I was taken back to triage where they started a mag drip to counteract any contractions the placement may have caused.  At this point we weren't really sure what to expect but after finally being transferred to a room our nurse (who just happened to LOVE Gilmore Girls so we know that she was awesome) informed us that our doctor wanted me in L&D for at least 24hrs but more than likely it would end up being more. 

I should explain a bit about our doctor I guess.  He is probably in his early sixties and is an old Army doc with absolutely no bed side manner.  BUT he truly cares and it is very cautious in his approach.  With everything we went through with MG I would much rather have someone who will tell me how it is than someone who will hold my hand and fill me full of fluff.  (I have the hubs to do that lol!)

Anyway, the worst part of the whole ordeal hands down was the catheter.  Getting comfortable was impossible and sleep, which is what they wanted me to do just wasn't happening.  I finally had to ask for meds just to help keep my mind off it.  I felt like a total wimp but at that point it was either meds or rip it out.  I took what most would consider the lesser of the two.

We really struggled with what to do next.  The hubs felt so torn, he wanted to be with me yet we both knew we had two little girls at home that were confused and needed their daddy so home he went.  Being there by myself wasn't ideal but I was armed with two seasons of Gilmore Girls, Netflix, Sweettarts, and Cheez-Its so really, what more could I ask for? 

After a fitful night and a stellar breakfast of cold cereal and yogurt (I tried the "real" food the day before, let's just say I am not sure how real it was) the hubs arrived with everything we thought that we would need for our 3-4 day stay.  At this point the nurses were even discussing the possibility of me being there for Christmas.  That didn't exactly go over well but I was still contracting 3-4 times a hour and they just didn't see him releasing me anytime soon.

I tried to cling to the calm that I had felt in the OR but I was floundering as I imagined not being there when the girls woke up on Christmas morning.  I remember feeling SO devastated yet as I look back I can see God's hand in every step.  Funny how sometimes it takes simply pushing through the pain to be able to see the beauty on the other side. 

The admin came in with our admittance paperwork, the hubs signed my releases, paid my copay, and then just sat in silence as we both processed how very different the next 16wks were going to look.  After some time he reached out his hand and as I placed mine in his he looked me straight in the eye and said "It's going to be ok."   As long as I live I will never forget that moment.  It was me and him against the world doing whatever we needed to do to make sure our little girl got the best shot possible. 

I thank God for that man and that moment as it made me realize I was not alone and hadn't ever been.  I was just looking in the wrong place. 

The Unexpected Journey

I should begin by saying that nothing that I/we have ever done would be considered "normal" for some reason we always tend to be the one in a million which, as you can imagine has its ups and downs.  When the hubs and I found out that we were expecting #3 we were thrilled.  Granted it was in a kind of "Oh crud what are we going to do about A, B, and C" since the timing was a bit off from what we had discussed but nevertheless we were excited about adding another little one to the bunch. 

We knew that I would be considered high risk due to my past history but the 17p shots aren't horrid and we felt like we had traveled the road before so what was another trip.  Should have known better than to assume it would be the same.  Shortly after we found out that little bitty #3 was another precious girl I began experiencing what most books and websites would consider typical symptoms, but with my experience that just isn't ever the case.

After a call to the office, an hour and a half drive and a 15 minute visit we were faced with a new diagnosis and scheduled for an emergent cerclage at dark thirty the next morning.  That night was a struggle to say the least, my emotions would run the gamut from one extreme to the next within minutes and my poor husband just sat back and watched.  It's hard to explain to someone that hasn't experienced the same.  It's almost as though I was working through the 7 stages of grief, I was already struggling with what we had to do to bring a healthy child into this world and now this?   Even for me, someone who wasn't expecting a "perfect" pregnancy I certainly wasn't expecting what took place. 

We left for the house at 2:30am the following morning, arrived at the hospital by 4, and was I was in the OR by 5:45.  The only way to describe the entire procedure is as a God thing.  The OR was unbelievably cold and for me, someone who is cold natured anyway it was miserable.  As I sat on the operating table waiting for them to place the spinal I tried and tried and tried to bring portions of James to mind.  (I participated in the Beth Moore study last April and have large amounts committed to memory...or so I thought.)  No matter how hard I tried though it just wouldn't come but something else did.  If you have never heard Louie Giglio's Star Mash Up its worth the 14mins of your life.  Over and over this began to play in my mind, as they laid me back, as the doctor suited up, as the surgery started it remained in the background.  When two minutes later my doctor said "You are open (dilated)" the Lord graciously made it louder, drowning out everything else in the room until the procedure was complete. 

Our doctor later told the hubs that we would have lost our little girl within a week if we had not gone into the office that day.  That next week?  Was Christmas.  I was immediately overwhelmed by God's goodness and provision in spite of my crappy attitude.

And that was the beginning of this unexpected journey, the twists and turns have been many but God is faithful, so in Him I will rest...