She Laughs at the Days

One Thousand Gifts-Week 25

2009-07-10T22:54:00.000-07:00

Okay so really, it's hardly accurate to call this week 25 since there were those two months that I completely missed, but for the sake of chronology, and ease of titling, just pretend with me. Alright?

The GH has this way of looking up from what he's doing whenever I walk by, looking me in the eye, and smiling at me in a heart melting, knee weakening sort of way.
Little is talking up a storm these days. Everything she does is accompanied by a constant stream of chatter. I have some favorite phrases things I will be very sad to have gone when she starts saying them correctly. "Me wuv you mama, ahso, too!" for example. Or, "No, me do it my big giwl sewf." (That's "me do it my big girl self" for those of you who don't speak toddler.) Also, "ME DID IT!"
Sunday school teachers taking time to pull me aside and marvel at how well my children play together, how kind they are to each other. I marvel as well, and continue to be grateful for such a gift, to them as well as to me.
The Girl has cleaned out my gift wrap closet. She keeps taking out gift bags and tissue and wrapping up her favorite things to give to her friends. If I allowed it I think she might be without toys and clothes altogether. She gets such joy out of it. I do my best to not chide her over using up all of my gift wrapping supplies.
The long chunks of time when the Boy sits and reads to himself, still a little bit out loud so I can overhear, The Chronicles of Narnia books, or the Wizard of Oz.
The kissable curve of a toddler's cheek.
Smiling blue eyes in a 3 month old baby boy's face.
Kites flying at the beach.
The Boy on a boogie board, trying, and sometimes succeeding, at catching the gentler waves near the beach.
The kindness of friends.
The gift of noticing something lovable in a person that I hadn't seen before.
A dip in the pool toward the end of a long sweaty day.
Kisses and whispered conferences with Little in the early morning as we try to convince each other that we ought to get up. (Some days I don't want to, some days she doesn't.)
The scent of magnolia flowers.
The bits of paper that litter the table and floor at the end of a day with the Girl spent making paper dolls. A sign of time well spent, of a home well used, of a life being lived.

The gratitude community is here.

Update-Children's Home

2009-07-08T11:56:00.000-07:00

As you know, in June I announced that we needed sponsors for the kids at our children's home in Northern Thailand that we support through The Charis Project. We did not reach our goal of 80 sponsors by the end of June. But we do have a lot more than we started with. And thanks to many generous one time donations as well we have enough to keep things running for another 2 months!

We have no answers yet regarding a new location, but we at least have a bit more time.

Thank-you, all of you for your generous support and for helping to spread the word.

We are extending the sponsorship drive for another month to try and get to 80 before the end of July.

If I were a better blogger...

2009-07-02T13:05:00.000-07:00

...I would post every day to start with. Not these fits and gaps that I've been doing. Seriously, has it been 6 days since I last posted? It seems like yesterday.

...I would pick up on the frugal trend lately and post about how to patch holes in clothing, as I have been doing, or turn pants into shorts when they get too short.

...I could start a how to make a wedding cake series, complete with pictures tips and recipes. I would be showing you the test taste that is right now cooling on the table so that I can experiment with the blackberry flavored white chocolate ganache between the layers of the key lime flavored Italian Cream Cake. And I would show you pictures of the fresh flower decorations and icing bags and all.

...I would be letting my readers in on the walk through the gospel of Matthew that I've been taking with my mentoree the past few months. I could write a weeks worth of posts alone on what we discuss every Sunday over tea. My favorite moment was two weeks ago when we reached the end and she said, "I didn't really expect it to be that interesting."

...I would show you how I'm sewing sashes and underlay to two Target sundresses to make them the cutest flower girl dresses ever.

...(I could show you the other sundresses I plan to make, but I haven't had time yet.)

...I could put up a picture of the bunk beds the GH built for the kids and I painted, and the princess curtains in progress on the bottom bunk for the Girl.

...I would put more pictures in my posts.

...I would find time to read all of yours and leave comments.

Alas, I am a very bad blogger, and don't expect to improve any time soon. I can't figure out how to do all that stuff, and still have time to write about it. Thank you all for sticking with me any way. I'm off to ice a cake.

7 Quick Takes

2009-06-26T00:01:00.000-07:00

1. Did I ever tell you I once went to Micheal Jackson's house in Los Olivos, or whatever little town that was? It was on the way home after the year I spent as a nomad with 5 other girls and sleeping on floors, feeding homeless people and praying and whatnot. We stopped at the Getty Museum on the way home too for the artists and art lovers among us. One of our number, still a dear friend, and a big Micheal Jackson fan, felt very strongly that she needed to tell Micheal that Jesus loved him. We never went inside of course. We couldn't even see the house from the gate, where the security guard would neither confirm, nor deny, that is was MJ's house. But we sat on top of our big white van and prayed for him as she wrote him the sweetest letter and put it in the mailbox. (The guard wasn't allowed to take it, but we saw him go and take it out after she put it in.)
I find myself wondering today if he ever got that letter, if it ever made a difference. Unlike the love of fans, it was at least one voice telling him that there is a love unlike any other, perfect and complete for him and for all of us. And we don't have to do anything to earn it, we are accepted as we are. I hope he trusted that, before the end.

2. I am reading A Mother's Rule of Life right now, and enjoying it thoroughly. My follow through in implementing some of the ideas quite frankly, sucks, but I know there is truth in it. The main thought that I'm carrying away from it right now is what a difference it could make if I found a few moments at the beginning of the day to pray for each of my children. How would that affect our daily interactions if I had from the outset brought their hearts and minds before God in prayer? HOW would it affect my perspective?

3. My exercise regime has until now consisted of walking up and down a full flight of stairs for 15 minutes fast. On alternating days I give my thighs a rest and walk around our apartment building for 15 minutes using hands weights. There is a beautiful state of the art work out room in our community. I have yet to use it because taking three small children in is prohibited, and they are too small to swim alone as I watch from inside through the glass. The stairs are right outside my front door, and I can keep an eye on things as they do their morning jobs inside the house. But I got restless, I heard about the #shredheads on twitter. I ordered the 30 day shred. And now my knees don't work. I tried it for one day, and after the second round of jumping jacks when my knee cap moved sideways in an alarming fashion I quit, and headed outside again for my stairs. Except... no. My knees are gimping out on the stairs now too. I'm trying some knee strengthening exercises, but today it gave 3 times at the 11 minute mark and I had to stop and just walk instead. So thanks Jillian, I am neither able to do your workout, nor my old faithful one. If I never lose this 10 pounds I can now blame you.

4. My oft neglected food blog, the real food revolution, has a new contributor. So I guess it's not just my blog anymore. I'm excited at the idea of collaberating on this. Working with others always inspires me. Go check it out.

5. We are still getting more sponsors and donations. The goal of 80 is still far, but creeping closer. Thank-you, everyone who has helped to share about the need and spread the word. You have helped to change things for 40 kids whose lives have been terribly upended, and give them a home, and a chance.

6. Next month I am making a wedding cake. It was the GH's idea. My girls are also flower girls. So on July 19 I will be icing and decorating a tiered wedding cake, and putting hair up in rags so it curls, and getting people dressed, and trying to not appear too frazzled by the time the ceremony begins. But it's good to be able to do something for a family that we love, and who have been so unfailingly generous toward us for a very long time. That new logo for The Charis Project up above was designed by the bride to be.

7. I read A Fourfold Franciscan Blessing at Ekklesia Journey the other day. It's not what you might expect a blessing to be perhaps. But it is the exact sort of blessing that many of us need. Go have a read.

More 7 Quick Takes at Conversion Diary.

Little things

2009-06-24T14:50:00.000-07:00

There's the return of a monthly cycle, and the sight of blood again for the first time since I miscarried Shiloh.

There's the wonderful joyful news that my little sister just gave birth to a baby girl, at home in her birthing pool.

There's the hard hard wall of a husband who still thinks, as I would agree if I were rational, that trying on purpose to get pregnant this year is foolish. Not forever, just for right now. But oh how I want to. I had hoped...

There are the insurance papers I keep putting off filling out.

There are hormones, and exhaustion.

There are the little reminders every where. "Your baby is gone," they shout. "No tiny bodies and downy soft heads in your immediate future."

And I start to sink into self pity, in addition to the sadness.

I've been trying to stay on top of this. I exercise every day, eat properly, don't get adequate sleep however, and these past 4 days have been too much for me. My eyes leak tears constantly as I go through the motions of keeping family and house in order.

I don't know how to heal from this part, this part of longing for a child I will never get to hold. My heart has been opened, and now lies empty, stumbling along, trying to figure out what to do now.

There are blessings all around me. And I'm not oblivious to them. I have laughed, I have enjoyed my children, my life. But that doesn't mean the tears won't fall again seconds later.

Today my MIL has my children. Today I slept for more than 3 hours in the middle of the day.

I know it will get better eventually. Time will do it's work, the pain will be less fresh. But for just today, I'm simply stumbling through.

My Girl

2009-06-18T16:08:00.000-07:00

She is laying there, in her new bottom bunk bed, wall scattered with stars and flowers, and fake gemstones behind her. Tears streak her freckled skin, make her eyes more brilliantly blue, make me notice her cheek bones, how thin she is. My eyes move to her collar bone showing against her pink shirt. She is the picture of All American Beauty, tousled blond hair, golden skin, adorable nose, pink puffy skirt.

"Is she too thin?" I wonder again. Two weeks of illness plus however many months of parasites before then. And she eats like a bird.

Dark circles are under her eyes, awake too early again this morning. She has gotten out of bed during quiet time, again. We reset the timer for another hour. "Why won't she just sleep? She needs it so much."

"I can't lay down this long," she wails. So impatient, so full of ideas. "Will you lay down with me?"

It's been a month since she moved into this room from mine. A month since I lay next to her and held her until she fell asleep. Truthfully, she doesn't usually need a nap anymore. Quiet time is now my chance to get a break, and hers to learn to entertain herself. But today she needs sleep.

I lay down beside her in the too big bed. Forehead to forehead we lay as she continues to sob. She feels things so deeply this girl of mine. She has no means of discerning between her hurt feelings and the reality behind them.

I rub her back like I used to. Humming the song I made up just for her. Slowly her body surrenders to exhaustion and she lies still, breathing deeply, face at rest. Then I let my own tears flow, dropping silently onto her hair. How much longer will she let me do this, be close to her like this? How do I mother this sunny, impetuous, never resting, beautiful child?

I gently kiss her forehead and dry my eyes before getting up to go on with my day, leaving my heart resting with a tiny little form laying in a too big bed in the big kid room.

Dear California Drivers

2009-06-17T12:14:00.000-07:00

I get it. The last time you walked anywhere was 20 years ago. You slide into your car just to go to the store on the corner. Why would anyone walk all the way over to a place they can see from their house? It's a car culture. I understand.

So of course it doesn't EVER occur to you that there may be pedestrians on the little roadways where you navigate your vehicle. FYI, pedestrians are people who get from place to place by WALKING! Shocking, I know. They also sometimes cross the street, where you are making a left hand turn.

I know you are completely unaware of this fact for you never, ever look to the right when turning left to check for them. You don't think they exist. They could be less than 2 feet from the nose of your car in the cross walk with 3 children in tow and you would still be oblivious to their presence. They might be yelling and waving their hands even, but you in your sporty BMW with the music turned up, you don't need to pay any attention to them. After all, this is SoCal, if they didn't want to be run over they would have taken their car. Right?

And if the first person taking that turn didn't bother to stop, well, why should you bother either? Those pesky laws about right of way are never really enforced anyway. Or, wait, don't you actually have right of way, even if there is a pedestrian in the cross walk? They should have to jump out of your way, or wait until all 4 of you are finished taking you big left turn before continuing safely on their way. If the light changes before they reach the other side, that's just their own fault really for being stupid enough to walk somewhere.

By all means, if one of those pesky pedestrians, who shouldn't really exist anyway, has the audacity to glare at you and stare you down in order to get you to notice and stop your right turn before running over her children, feel free to yell at her out the window as she passes, "But I have a green light!" Duh, how silly for her to expect you to stop for her, that she has a green light and the right of way is of absolutely no consequence.

So dear driver, sleep peacefully tonight, completely oblivious to the number of times today you were almost guilty of vehicular manslaughter. Those images that flash through your head of little white crosses that mark the sides of your roads, and people waving their arms angrily as you pass, and worst of all someone confiscating your keys and forcing you to walk to every place within a two mile radius of where you live, those are just nightmares. Sweet dreams.

Love,
The woman you almost hit with your car the other day.

A Sane Woman's Guide to Motherhood

2009-06-15T13:38:00.000-07:00

Many, many months ago Mary asked me if I would write a review for her book. I am finally writing it.

The real title of the book is, A Sane Woman's Guide to Raising a Large Family. But don't let the title fool you. Mothers of any number of children will find this book helpful. Almost everything in this book is useful whether you have 1, 2, 3, or 10 kids. Don't let the title intimidate you. If you have children this book will be worth reading.

I expected to like the book. I've been reading Mary's blog Owlhaven for more than 3 years now. I expected find more of the same great content that is on the blog, and lots of familiar material in a different format.

I didn't expect to learn so much from this one volume. I didn't expect to come away from it encouraged and refreshed in my own life as a mother. I did not know how very useful this book might be.

I didn't think this would be the book that would solve for me the mystery of how to strengthen the emotional connection between my son and I that I have felt stretching thin the past year. I also learned that I will probably never be as patient as I believe I ought to be, but I can hope to become better at faking it as time goes by. And that veteran mothers of 10 still have moments of frustration when bedtime hits and there are toys all over the floor.

Mary's style is fun, light and understanding. She doesn't pretend to be a perfect mothering guru, just a little more experienced. Her suggestions are practical, and possible. Yes you heard that right, possible! Imagine a book about parenting and managing a family that has advice that you can actually picture yourself accomplishing, rather than overwhelming you at the thought of how big a failure you already are.

The book covers all sorts of topics; debunking myths about what kids really need and that supermoms exist, tips for raising polite children, how to understand what really makes your kids feel loved, and how to help them survive trips to the grocery store without meltdowns. To name a few.

I highly recommend you get your hands on a copy and read it for yourself.

***************
For those of you following the story of the children's home in Thailand, I'm pleased to report that since last week there have been 8 new sponsors, and almost $600 in donations. Thank-you for helping. We still have a long way to go to get to 80 sponsors, so please continue to spread the word. Let us not grow weary in doing good.

What $35 will buy

2009-06-10T20:37:00.000-07:00

In the US $35 can buy a lot of things.

A pair of jeans for instance. If they aren't a really expensive brand name.

3 or 4 shirts from the clearance rack at Target.

A pair of nice shoes.

Dinner out. (Depending on where you go and how many tag along.)

One coffee/day for a month. If you only buy $1 cups of coffee.

10 Starbucks mocha frappuccinos.

2-3 books on your amazon wish list.

A tank of gas, maybe.

4 1/2 pounds of T-bone steak on sale at the grocery store.

or,

Food, clothing, shelter, safe transport to and from school and a home where they are loved for a child like Saewong whose parents were killed by the Burmese Army.

That's what $35 will buy. Most of us, by making a few adjustments to our daily routine; like walking more, or making coffee at home, eating less meat, or just buying fewer things, could afford to take care of a child who has nothing, every single month.

Wouldn't that be worth it?

To sponsor a child go here.

Read also Update on the Children's Home

Children in Crisis

Announcing-Child Sponsorship

Update on the Children's Home

2009-06-08T14:10:00.000-07:00

Update: This was in my inbox when I woke up this morning. It's a note from Chala, the man who took all of these kids in and cares for them. His English is spotty, but it's his 9th language. He's brilliant and could do so many other things with his time and energy. Here is what he says.

your brother just mentioned that he just wants want other to take care of them. (We're trying to find good homes for them in case we have to fold.)
For me I love them so much and there are several reasons that I can't give these kids to the other. finally I will beg the rice from the temple and feed them. I will never give up.
But please find out support for them step by step.
Thankyou very much
Sincerely Chala

Heart breaking.

Have you heard about this yet? How long do you think it will be that a government is permitted to attack it's own people so, to jail and kill any voice for change, to allow through neglect the death of thousands within it's own borders? I wonder what it will take to stop the killing.

This latest attack on Karen people, and influx of refugees is only adds to the number of children in crisis and needing homes. In the meantime the children's home we support through the charis project is also in crisis. The health inspector came and said they would have to move the children to a different house, that it isn't in a safe location and it's not big enough for all of them. That in addition to all the other difficulty may be the final straw. After months of doing all that we know to do to raise enough money to care for these kids, there still isn't enough, there are still not enough sponsors or donors. The home incurs more and more debt each month, food continues to be in short supply, and the situation has yet to stabilize.

If the situation has not changed by the end of the month we do not think that the home will be able to carry on. Every dollar donated has gone directly to meeting their needs. Yet the need is greater than what has been given. We're now looking for a safe alternative for the kids if they need to be moved. We won't just abandon them, you can be sure of that.

Will you help? Will you sponsor a child? Tell other people they can sponsor a child? All it takes is 80 people who will commit to sending $35/month to feed, clothe, house and educate a child.*

The blogging community is big, and often generous. Surely by working together we can find the 80 people who are able and willing to help these kids. My stats finder shows at least that many people come here every day. If we all told at least two other people in real life, wrote a post about it, passed it on to other bloggers we know, how many would we reach. How many would be able to help? Saving this children's home is entirely possible. It could happen this week even.

I think often we look at a need and think that others are sure to help, and in the end, few people do anything because we're all expecting someone else to do it. You have the power to save a child in your hands. You have the influence to recruit another to save one more. Will you use it? Will you help?

I know many of you have been faithful supporters of this project from the beginning, and I thank you for that, from the bottom of my heart. Without you we would never have made it this far. Will you help one more time and share the need with others?

You could post a link on Twitter, Facebook, Myspace, and whatever other networks you are part of. You could paste the sponsorship widget where others will see it, and write about why it matters. Will you help? My heart is breaking at the thought of what will happen if no one does. But I have seen this community of bloggers do amazing things. I'm hopeful that we can turn this thing around. Together.

To find out more about sponsoring a child click here, and here.

*Most sponsorship programs don't provide housing, or round the clock care, or help with homework. They are a supplement to children living with family or friends, providing some, but not all of their basic needs. Needing to provide all of their basic needs is why each of our kids needs two sponsors. If we can do this together, these kids will be raised in a home where they are loved, in their own culture, that the Burmese government is working unceasingly to obliterate, and saved from the danger and anonymity of either street life, or large institutions where abuse is often prevalent due to low adult to child ratios.

The miracle of life-By the Girl

2009-06-05T10:52:00.000-07:00

This just in...

Girl: If I had a penis but was still a girl, and the Boy had a vagina but was still a boy then he would have to shoot that stuff that makes babies out of his vagina and into my penis. And that would be just weird.

(Not to mention the idea of making babies with your brother, that's not weird at all sweetie, not at all.)

The Zen of Poo*

2009-06-04T00:36:00.000-07:00

As if the title weren't warning enough. Don't read if you have a weak stomach.

A couple of weeks ago I twittered this little tidbit.

Just collected the Girl's stool samples and put them in my fridge. You'd think once they're potty trained... but you're never done with poo.

My friend pointed out how zen like that little sentence is. You really are never done with poo.

Tonight it was a phone call at 9pm from the Girl's pediatrician. The good news is that she doesn't need to get blood drawn tomorrow, because they already have a diagnosis. We now know the reason she sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night screaming and clutching her stomach.

It was dramatic when it happened, but so intermittent that we figured it was just gas pain. She is our resident drama queen after all. Except that even drama queens don't usually start yelling before they are really even all the way awake.

But my mother in law had two dreams in a row about the Girl having worms several months ago. Then my little sister in law had one that was very similar. So we had it as a thought flitting around when she started pointing to her lower intestine when we asked where the pain was. It seemed to fit, and I finally made an appointment with the pediatrician our HMO assigned us, whom we had avoided up to now.

I called her office the week I was miscarrying Shiloh and said, "Look, my kids aren't vaccinated. It's not because I'm stupid or lazy. I've spent a lot of time and done a lot of reading and I'm comfortable with my carefully considered decision. I think my daughter has parasites. I do not have the energy this week to get into a conversation about shots or have the doctor yelling at me. So is this going to be a problem or can I bring her in?"

Poor receptionist didn't know but promised to ask and call me if the doctor had a problem with it so we could switch care providers. It turned out that she was a very gracious middle eastern woman with a voice that sounds almost exactly like this actress. She ordered a full spectrum of tests.

And that's how I found myself catching and scooping poo into vials for the past few weeks.

We were right. It's apparently fairly rare here in the US. She starts a course of treatment tomorrow for a type of flatworm. In the words of Forrest Gump, "It happens."

*How many philosopy geeks are there who will get that one?

Redemption?

2009-06-01T11:17:00.000-07:00

I'm fine. In case you were wondering. Except when I'm not, and then I burst into tears at completely random seeming intervals. But that seems to be at a rate of twice a week or so, so it's not that bad.

I'm continuing to marvel at how many women are telling me that this record I am keeping of my experience of losing a baby is helping them deal with their loss as well. I certainly didn't set out to help other people by grieving publicly. It was more for me than anything else. I mentioned a few posts back how I trust in a God who promises to redeem all things. I have in the past year or so come to suspect that it is possible to go through suffering in a way that is actually redemptive. That's what certain verses on the subject seem to be saying anyhow.

I've not had a chance to test that idea until now, as I've not had much sorrow or suffering to go through. I feel kind of silly even mentioning it, like you will all think I think too highly of myself. It's just a little thing really, or a series of little things. Like my neighbor admitting that she's afraid to get pregnant again because she might have another miscarriage, and then choosing a name for the baby she lost and somehow that's helping her, talking about it is helping her. Or the many people who have told me that I've articulated for them a grief they couldn't speak and that has helped. I'm only passing on, inadvertently, the wisdom of women who have gone before me, and counseled me to name my baby, to allow time and space to grieve. They said it makes it easier in the long run.

I don't know. It seems pretty small. But I wonder if this small series of colliding ripples, where other people are comforted somehow as we process our shared grief together, is a foretaste of what it's like when something wrong is redeemed. If even out of an unexpected grief, comfort can come to a circle of women, what happens when the kingdom of God really comes?

Life, Persistent, Persistent Life

2009-05-26T13:42:00.000-07:00

I used to resent it when I was younger. This way life has of carrying on in spite of things. I took it then as a sign of how little anyone else cared about my suffering, all the teenage weight of angst that I bore, and I hated it. I just wanted the world to stop and let me have my break down. Now, I find myself grateful for the persistent way that life has of pulling me along with it, into the bright light of day.

The last time I saw my great grandmother alive, about a year before she passed away, she told me, "Oh, I'm so tired these days dear. This morning I didn't think I would get up. But then they brought me my breakfast, and it smelled good, so I sat up and ate it. And then they helped me go to the bathroom so I figured I might as well get dressed. And then you came to see me, so it's good that I got up today." We joked that living was such a habit for her that she couldn't figure out how to die. I think I'm starting to get what a blessing it is, these inescapable details of being present here, in bodies that require attention, in relationships with people who require our attention. The practical upshot of these bodies of clay is that we are forced to attend to life, even when we would rather not.

There is a toddler who needs a bottom wiped, a 5 year old copying words she can't read out of a book so I can read them back to her. A seven year old who needs comforting. There are bunk beds to paint and rooms to rearrange, and all this continues in spite of and through sorrow and joy.

We buried Shiloh yesterday afternoon. Our family, and the GH's, took a moment from our labors in painting, building, cooking and gathered at the front of the house, in the quiet spot near the porch swing that my MIL had newly prepared. The tiny bit of flesh that once housed Shiloh was wrapped in linen and tucked away in a cedar box crafted by a loving father who waits to someday join his child. The GH wept for the first time since this began as he pressed handfuls of earth back into the hole. We cried and embraced, and grieved for what might have been, as we planted flowers in the dirt above and placed a paving stone bearing Shiloh's name to mark the place.

Then it was back to work, a meal, dinner clean up, finish the painting, and bedtime. These simple tasks an insistent reminder that life will go on, and there are gifts everywhere. A hummingbird floating in front of the kitchen window for several minutes, evening breezes, siblings gathered round table together, warm sunshine, cool earth, savory food. There can be such pleasure in living.

Last night just before going home I snuck out the front door again. (No one uses the front door at my in laws house, only the side doors.) There around the paving stone were smaller stones and flowers, arranged by the Girl when no one was looking. I realized that even this, the need to make a space for Shiloh's remains, is a blessing, for all of us.

This is probably a mistake

2009-05-23T00:57:00.000-07:00

Don't write it. It's too horrific.

What do I do with it then? What do I do? I didn't know what to do.

You should have left it there. Let them send it to pathology. Then there would be nothing to tell.

But I would know. I couldn't forget. I was all alone in that room, and there was all the blood everywhere, and the smell. I didn't have a phone to call anyone.

You shouldn't have looked. You should have just let it go. Now what are you going to do with it?

But it could have... I might have seen... I had to know.

And now you know. Is it any better?

Than not knowing? It's too late to find out.

You were laughing before this. You were getting through.

I thought it was a funny joke. An OB who couldn't find my cervix. I thought it would turn out to be a big deal over nothing.

You didn't notice how nervous she was? She just kept talking and talking...

I had never met her before, how was I to know?

and the cupboard doors banging and the scrambling around to find things.

Well, I did notice that, but I still thought we were in a comedy. There was the speculum hanging out of me, and her having no idea what to do. I thought it would be one of those uncomfortably funny posts. Where we all have a good laugh at my discomfort. And when I mocked her for her terribly technical use of terms, "Some stuff hanging out of your cervix", I thought that would be funny too.

when did you know?

When she asked for the specimen jar.

You didn't have to ask...

Yes I did. I needed to know if it was a... a body.

And now you know too much.

Yes.

Now you have a mental image that haunts you.

It was not a good time to have the background in birth that I do. Because now I understand what could make an impassive OB almost lose her cool.

Her voice kept cracking. She kept saying necrotized over and over. She ran out of there as soon as she could.

She left all the bloody things lying around.

Did it hit you then?

No, I was too busy trying to decide what to do with the specimen jar.

Why didn't you leave it? It's not Shiloh any more.

No, but it was for a while.

And now you have a half rotten fetus in your fridge.

Yes. We're going to bury it.

Where will you put it that the dogs won't dig it up? The balloons were a much nicer image.

But this is true. I would have figured it out anyway.

True. Your baby spent a week dangling from your cervix and rotting away inside you, you kept wiping away black rotten strands of your own child's body until you realized that it wasn't just blood clots and called someone. True is ugly. How will you go on now?

I don't know. I will, because I have to. Beautiful is true as well. Little's downy head with her fist tucked next to her cheek also came through my cervix. I can think of that instead.

It doesn't always work.

But it helps. Life and death hold hands sometimes.

You still can't say it without crying.

No. Not yet.

Don't publish it, you're being melodramatic.

That's what kept me from calling the doctor for 3 days, the thought that I was imagining it because I knew it was possible, and that I was being overly dramatic.

Well, if you had waited much longer you probably would have gone septic.

See, melodrama might have saved my life.

Now you're being dramatic again.

I guess, except that it's true.

No one wants to read this. It's too horrifying.

But it's true. Do I just pretend like it didn't happen? We're not good at pretending things, you know that.

Maybe, just this once, it's better to let it be.

Maybe... I... I don't know. I can't sleep. Maybe writing it will help me to let it go.

What to say when someone miscarries.

2009-05-19T13:55:00.000-07:00

Because I'm analytical, even when I'm in the middle of life altering events, I tend to make observations and file them away for later when I have time to think about them.

A lot of people I love have had miscarriages before I did. I've cried, and wondered what to say, and prayed for them, and wondered what on earth I can do to show my friend I care.

Some of this was in a way helpful while I was going through it. Just as when in labor it often helps to think of all the women who have given birth, who are giving birth right now, there was something about my awareness that I'm not the only one this has happened to that made it easier. That miscarriage is, in a way, commonplace, doesn't make it any more right. But knowing that it happens, and that people get through it somehow, did help in a way.

But since I have now been on both sides of this situation, I found myself paying attention to which responses were the most helpful, because it was answering a question I've had for many years. What do you say when someone you love has a miscarriage?

(I want to take a second, again, to say thanks to everyone who commented. You are all good at this I guess, because your comments were great.)

I love you.
I'm here if you need me.
We're thinking/praying about you.
I'll watch your kids/cook you dinner/come over if you need a break/etc.
I'm sorry to hear that.
Talk about other things if your friend shows they want to.

What not to say.

Any variation on the theme of, maybe it's for the best that your baby died, and speculation as to why that might be. You may need to try and make sense of it for yourself, but do not do it aloud in front of the bereaved. It's just not helpful.
Don't ask how it affects any other plans you know the family has. Even if you are dying to know.

The end.

I hope this little list will be helpful for someone.

If you have anything to add in the comments please do so. Especially if there was something especially meaningful and helpful that someone did for you.

I just remembered this to share with you. We have been going to the same store for so long, several times a week, that a cashier sent home flowers with my husband when she learned what we had just been through. I thought that was very thoughtful. Especially given the nature of our acquaintance. We might just be forming a community after all, even in SoCal.

Saying Goodbye

2009-05-18T13:04:00.000-07:00

We named our baby Shiloh, which means "His gift". I wanted for us to always be reminded when we remember this child, that his/her short presence here with us was a blessing. I know this for sure.

I do not wish for a second that I wasn't pregnant at all in order to be spared this pain. The time that we were expecting, the work we did in our hearts to welcome this baby in, the joy we felt together in anticipation, I wouldn't trade any of it even if I knew the outcome from the start. I know that the presence of Shiloh healed us in some way, of our fear of another pregnancy for one thing. It only strengthened the ties we have with each other to have, and to lose, a child so dearly loved.

We had a little ceremony yesterday, with some family and friends that often gather together on Sunday evenings for food and fellowship. And so, in the evening, with the sun behind and the blue, cloudless sky above, we each let go of a helium balloon as we whispered goodbye to Shiloh. It seemed an appropriately ephemeral memorial, in keeping with such a brief life. We watched as the balloons trailed each other and were caught by a slipstream, forming spiral patterns high up in the sky and then clustering together and seeming to hover just above us for a long, long time. As they got farther up the sunlight reflecting off of them made them seem like little colored stars. We watched until our eyes watered trying to focus, and then they were gone, just as Shiloh is gone. I didn't expect it to be so beautiful. My main thought was to help the kids understand/gain some closure. I won't ever forget it.

I want to be clear. I'm not of a theology that believes God had some higher purpose and that's why my baby died. I'm not one of those who is comforted by the thought that God is in control and everything happens for a reason. I don't believe that.

Our Father who is in Heaven, holy is your name.
Your kingdom come, your will be done,

My Bible says that the Kingdom of God, that place where there is no sickness or death, no sorrow or tears, is not fully come. It paints a picture of a war, a kingdom advancing, one battle after another. A struggle that is carried out by those who are alive in His spirit and choose to do His will, to participate in His kingdom, to love their enemies, to do good to those who persecute them, to choose constantly the path of selflessness, to lay down their lives and live them in Christ. The death of a child is never a good thing. Never "for the best". It's a sign that our world is still broken, still waits to be healed.

On earth, as it is in heaven...

But I trust in a God who is good, who has promised to redeem all things. I believe that. I know this peace I feel is from Him, and that He is carrying me through. I know He makes all things new.

Ode to a Genius Husband

2009-05-16T16:32:00.000-07:00

Who asks, "Do you need me to come right now?" when I call him weeping because I'm bleeding.

Who, a day later when I really do need him, drops everything, leaves a major project at work hanging, and stays at my side for the rest of the day.

Who stops on the way to pick up groceries and plans meals for the next 3 days since he knows I won't be up to much.

Who makes killer margaritas, and keeps me supplied with them and chocolate ice cream to kill the pain until I am ready to lay in his arms and cry.

Who calls everyone and talks to them when I cannot.

Who holds me and says nothing trite or easy while we deal with this together.

Who tells his brother he won't let himself fall apart until he's sure I am OK. And then still doesn't fall apart, because he's already at peace.

Who watches the kids and deals with the neighbors when I realize I'm not ready for all that yet and go hide out in the bedroom to rest.

Who is right now watching the kids at the pool, after marinating the meat for chicken fajitas that he plans to make for dinner tonight.

Who gives hugs and back rubs and quiet moments of reassurance.

Who tickles and laughs and plays with our children, and says all the right things to help them through this too.

Who knows just what to say to make me laugh, even when I don't think I can laugh at all.

Who has been in every way there for me in exactly the way I needed him to be.

I'm so glad he's the one I'm living life with.

Again with the Unexpected

2009-05-14T18:24:00.000-07:00

My baby is dead. It probably has been for 3 weeks. Yesterday morning I started to miscarry. Today a sonogram confirmed what we most feared, and suspected.

It makes sense of why I haven't had nausea these past few weeks. Why I haven't really felt pregnant at all.

I remember thinking when I wrote about this baby that I was being a bit presumptuous, assuming that a pregnancy meant a baby at the end of it. But I decided at the time, that even if something went wrong, it would be silly to pretend that there was no baby at all, just because it didn't live full term.

Yesterday was a surreal sort of day that started with me calling my midwife crying, and looped through things I never expected, like praying with my MIL and my midwife in her office. Or having the nurse at the pregnancy care center pray for me before sending me away, with a referral to a lovely family practice that took me in in a second and handled everything today. (My midwife isn't covered by insurance and miscarriages tend to be expensive. Thus the search for a doctor.)

Welcoming this baby, so unexpected, has been an exercise in trust, and saying good bye has been the same. I'm surprised that rather than asking "Why me?" my thought is more, "Why not me?" I've been very blessed thus far to have 3 completely healthy, complication free pregnancies. It's really only a matter of time before I experience the opposite as well. To live is to suffer from time to time, to love, to be heartbroken. No where is the fragility and triumph of life more apparent in our culture today than in birth. Death and birth walk hand in hand, and often happen in the same womb. I've been thinking about how odd it is, our culture, that resists the experience of death so strongly. In many cases it's led to good things, better medicine for example.

But I find this quiet acceptance I am experiencing, however foreign it seems to me at the moment, to be a more peaceful road than I ever imagined I would walk so close with death.

I am sad. I have wept. But I feel held. I feel unafraid. I don't feel alone. And that really is a gift I never expected to receive in a moment like this.

I want to thank you all who have been praying for me since this whole journey started. It means so much. It has helped me so much. Bless you all.

Avoiding Elephants

2009-05-13T14:09:00.000-07:00

I want to write about today. But in order to do that I would need to mention the elephant in the middle of my room. And until I'm sure one way or another about the existence of said elephant, I don't really want to write about it.

So I'll settle for this. It's been a really hard day. Yet, I am in awe of how much I feel carried through it. I feel like I'm being held in loving arms and gently wrapped up in love and prayer. All day has carried with it little unexpected gifts, and I feel lifted by grace as I move through this.

I know that's terribly cryptic. I promise I'll tell you more tomorrow.

Hallmark would be ashamed

2009-05-10T21:26:00.000-07:00

So I forgot what day it was until my friend at church gave me a hug and wished me Happy Mother's Day. It was happy. I saw a friend and her latest baby for a few minutes who lives on the other side of the country. (Hi Esther.) Then we went to the community college dance recital to watch my sil shake her thang on stage. Seriously, she performed a belly dance routine to Celtic music in a sort of fusion style that was kind of awesome. Also there were some tahitian dances, afrocuban dances, lame modern dances, some frightening amateur ballet routines, and by frightening I am referring in particular to the guy in the dance cup and the lycra pants, and some very entertaining hip hop numbers.

After that, because I am a good mom, I consented to going to Del Taco for dinner instead of going home to the dinner I had planned, because my kids wanted to go, and also my MIL was going with many of her children. The Boy got me a dolphin pendant on a string from the vending machine as a mother's day present, and the girl got a silly key chain. Obviously there was a lot of forethought and planning in these gifts. But, hey, they gave me the coveted vending machine items instead of keeping them and spent their own money, it's actually kind of sweet.

We came home to eat the cake I baked last night. My neighbor came over with a mixing bowl full of failed white chocolate mousse. She put in too much milk and needed to start over, did I think I could use it for anything? [I'm not the only one these kinds of things happen to am I? Tell me you have experiences like this too.] So I added some flour, sugar, baking powder, more eggs, and came out with a halfway decent, though dense cake. More like bread pudding. We ate that with fresh fruit when we got home from eating fast food tacos.

The GH and his sister started scheming about taking their mom to a movie tonight while we were eating dinner. He asked me if I would mind putting the kids to bed by myself. I didn't.
However, his mother's response to the plan, when announced, was to feel uncomfortable with him "abandoning me on mother's day" as to not want to do it. At this point I picked up the phone and said, "I hope I'm at least emotionally healthy enough that if I say I'm perfectly happy for him to go out with you tonight that I actually mean it."

"Oh, you mean he talked to you already?"

"Uh yeah, of course he did."

Then the GH got on the phone and continued to make fun of her by commenting on how odd it is that her first conclusion is that our relationship is so idiotic that that she would need to make sure it's OK with me. This is how we talk in our family. In her defense, we know she was trying to be thoughtful, but since she's the one who raised every one to say what they mean and only what they mean, no manipulating back talk, it's funny to us that she would assume otherwise.

There, I've just ruined all the humor in that interchange by analysing it. That's how I roll. We're probably the only ones who think that was funny anyway.

Before he left the GH said, "I've been trying to think of something I could get you for Mothers Day, and I can't really think of anything."

I smiled and said, "I can't either."

"Yeah," he said, "that's what I thought."

"I mean besides fantasy items, like a day spa package, a resort vacation, things I would never actually want you to spend money on. I have all the stuff I need already."

"Here's something I can do," he said, taking me in his arms. "You are doing a really good job. You are a great mother. I'm happy that you are the mother of my children. I'm proud of you. I goof of with you and say silly things a lot, but I'm always proud of you."

And then I melted a bit, and maybe a tiny tear hovered for a second before I blinked it back and kissed him.

My children are sleeping. I'm going to watch The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.

It's been a good day.

1000 Gifts-Week 24

2009-05-08T11:37:00.000-07:00

I've missed a few weeks. Sometimes life turns you on your head and routines are disrupted. But through it all it's a blessing to be able to see just how many gifts each day brings with it.

Here are a few that I've been enjoying the past few weeks.

The Girl and Little whispering secrets to each other and giggling.
My dear friend and neighbor brought over an envelope a week after I found out I was pregnant. In it were several prettily made home made coupons for things like, "One load of laundry," or "One really long nap," or, "One take out dinner," to redeem whenever I needed a break. It was so thoughtful I cried on the spot. I haven't needed any yet, but just knowing that kind of care and help is nearby is a gift.
The GH holding the Girl when she's sick and getting her to smile.
The Boy still needs his mama. He seems so grown up sometimes. It's a relief to realize again that he's still very much a little boy, and he still needs mothering.
Little bursting in the front door after a visit at Beema's house and telling me all about it in short emphatic phrases. "Me back Mama. Me back, Beema's house! Me pway. Mama, chicken. outside. me dancing. YEAH!" etc.
The Boy offering to make me breakfast in the morning.
Birdsong in spring.
The GH being careful to keep in stock the foods that help me feel better when sick.
The bounty of needing to figure out what to do with leftovers.
I don't feel nearly as bad as I expected I would right now. There's been hardly any nausea at all, by comparison to my other pregnancies. I keep wondering if I'm really pregnant after all I feel so, normal.
A day sans l'enfants courtesy of my MIL and her desire to take all her grandchildren to Sea World together. It's very quiet here right now.
I'm finally at a place in my life that I no longer struggle with guilt when I say, "No, I just can't do that right now. I need to rest." I'm finally at peace with taking care of myself too.

The gratitude community is here.

Of teeth, toilets, and other boring stuff.

2009-05-07T09:16:00.000-07:00

Um hi. You still here? I've been uh, busy. Birthday parties, the Girl has tummy trouble, friends moving away for good, and finding out just exactly how much it will cost to fix the Boy's jaw so his teeth come in straight. (Hint: less than a car payment...but more than we pay for the dental insurance that doesn't cover orthodontia.)

I'm not getting into a write during the day groove at all. I used to post in the evening, after the kids were asleep and I had the mental space to compose sentences. Now that I share with the GH, he uses his laptop at night, and I get it during the day. Slow to adapt, that's me.

I have a 1000 Gifts list coming soon though.

Tomorrow my MIL is taking my children to Sea World. That means I'm child free for several hours. The GH and I are even going to go out for lunch, by ourselves. Of course, they were originally supposed to go today, which was how I was going to recover from the week of tummy trouble and busyness and get the house caught up before friends come for dinner tonight. Time for plan B, which involves compelling small children to scrub out the toilets.

(Actually, last night while I was brushing my teeth, I heard a suspicious splashing sound next to me. As I had already taken out my contacts I couldn't tell exactly what was going on for a second. Little had her hand in the toilet bowl and was wiping it out with toilet paper. "I clean mama!" she exclaimed, with a brilliant smile, while I gagged a thousand times and washed her hands just about as many. Sweet and disgusting all at once. Only a two year old can manage that.)

I have swine flu, and cupcakes

2009-04-30T16:19:00.000-07:00

Well, I have a respiratory illness anyway. Have had since Sunday. My condition seems to be improving however so I won't be one of the panicked people spreading their germs around while sitting in the doctor's office. Also, I can't smell very much, and I also don't seem to be sick at all either. I'm thinking the two are related. And I would rather be snotty than puking so...

Here's a list of thoughts on the subject.

1. Interesting that there is suddenly a "pandemic" (only no one has died and few are sick in the US) during which the nomination of Sebelius (opposed by many Americans) is pushed through and confirmed in a rush so the CDC can have someone to "handle the CRISIS". Call me a cynic, but there seem to have been a lot of crisis these past hundred days that push major policy change.

2. The people dying of swine flu are dying from severe pneumonia complications that arise. Mexico city has very poor air quality, and lots of poor people with compromised immune systems. Mystery solved.

3. It's a good idea to let children, and yourself, cough when they are congested rather than give them cough suppressants. Then their body can do the work of getting stuff out of their lungs and it won't become pneumonia. Just like fevers are how a body fights off illness by elevating the body temperature to kill the bug. Suppressing fevers allows illness to last longer. But what do I know. I'm just a mom.

***************
The GH turned 34. We celebrated with lime cupcakes and homemade pizza. We also let the kids have some, drum roll please... root beer! The great thing about forcing our children to lead such deprived lives is that they are fawning and adulatory when we do let them have something sugary and fizzy. Of course this wasn't just any root beer, this was Virgil's micro brewed. Nothing but the best for our poor soda deprived offspring.

I have more than a dozen cupcakes hidden in the oven still. I'm not sure what to do with them, it's too much sweet for us.

The big party is Sunday, with friends and family, and it turns out, every one else who has a birthday in April or May that we know, which is a lot of people. Should be fun.

Around the World in 80 Clicks

2009-04-22T20:17:00.000-07:00

During what I now refer to as the great computer death of 2009, which is an ongoing saga of not having my own working computer anymore, Beck tagged me for the Around the World meme started by "Her Bad Mother and her friend David". And since I heart Beck, and I can actually think of something to say about this meme, I'm going to participate.

I'm supposed to list my 5 favorite things about being a mom.

1.) That moment in the middle of the night when they wake up in a panic and I can soothe them back to sleep with just a touch and a comforting murmur of assurance. I love the way my hand on their back or the sound of my voice has the power to make everything all right for them again when they are little.

2.) Watching a child discover or do something for the first time. Sometimes there are moments, just sitting on the floor with them watching them stack blocks, or make pretend food for me to sample in play dishes, or write their name for the first time, that I am so aware and present in the moment that my body starts to tingle a bit. Kind of weird I know, but neat.

3.) Getting to know their emerging personalities, quirks, humor. Those moments when they act just like a person, only smaller.

4.) Those golden moments when they all play together, are kind to each other, and seem to really like being together.

5.) That somehow this colossal task of needing to help these short people somehow grow up into adults, who will have all the skills and life training necessary to make it on their own, has caused me to grow up myself.

6.) The GH wants me to list making them in the first place. Which is true, but kind of goes without saying I think.

So now I get to tag people. I tag...

Journey Mama who is in northern India with her husband and 4 kids right now.
Embejo in New Zealand
The Hojos who started out in the UK an are now in Australia
My best friend Chantelle who is in Niger with her family
and Adam, in Thailand, who is another friend irl whom we are looking forward to hanging out with when we get there. I guess you can write about being a dad. :)