Healing

I've cried
questioned
fought
listened
I've leaned on God
on the bible
on family
on friends
I've felt angry
betrayed
overwhelmed
and just lost
I've bit my tongue
lashed out
reached out
and been crossed
I've been disappointed
disgruntled
alarmed
ashamed
but I know God is with me...
I am with God
washed in the blood
surrounded by family
covered in love
I'm lost in the Word
seeking Him more
accepting hugs
rising above

to the moon and back,

I am called to love...

I am called to love

I am not called to judge

There is no grey area

Your sin is no greater than mine

I am called to forgive

I am not called to hold harbor anger

You need the same forgiveness as I

You were given the same forgiveness as I

I am called to be satisfied

I am not called to be jealous

Material things are not lasting

Our rewards will come

I am called to accept

I am not called to condone

My heart is open all

But I am not here to enable

I am called to love the person

Regardless of race

Regardless of sex

Regardless of sin

I am called to be like Him

He who ate with tax collectors

He who did not judge the prostitute

He who died for all sinners

I strive to just love

These words have been swirling in my head the last few days.

to the moon and back,

Daddy

In between my morning job and cleaning job this afternoon, I got a call from my mom. "Jen, I'm in the ER with your dad, can you come get Moose from me, he's getting kid of restless." Umm... excuse me? ER?

Now, a little background on my mom. She's a rock in situations like this, real even keeled. Me, not so much (I don't do well in emergencies). Anyway, mom gets through these situations and is super strong, then when they are over, she takes her moment to break down.

Me "Why is dad in the ER?"
Mom "He was lightheaded at work and having problems remembering things and he kept zoning out. It might be mini strokes."
Me "Ok, I'll be there right away. Is he ok?"
Mom "He seems to be, they are running tests."

So, I rearranged my day and headed to the hospital. My dad is going to give me a heart attack, this isn't his first emergency.

I called Jon on my way there, I was a mess on the phone. I couldn't stop crying. I was praying, crying, texting, praying, crying, facebooking. Not my safest trip somewhere, but I needed prayers for my dad.

I got to the hospital, made my way to his room, rushed in and gave him the biggest hug and just lost it.

They had already done an EKG and blood work. They still planned on doing at least a cat scan. He was also hooked up to an IV with fluids because of mild dehydration. They weren't sure what had happened, but they mentioned mini strokes. My dad was hoping it was just anxiety from dealing with the end of the year inventory at the school. Mom said that he was very disoriented when she got to the hospital, but by the time I got there he was much more lucid.

After the cat scan they decided to do an MRI. The doctor also ordered a sonogram to look at his carotid arteries and an echocardiogram.

And so we waited... and waited... and waited. The nurse came in at 3:30 and asked if the doctor had talked to us. We said no. She replied "Oh, well he was supposed to, but I think he's gone for the day now." What? Really? I mean I guess it wasn't life threatening, because I assume he would have come in, but really, who knows.

My dads friends, Tom & Sandra, came by to pray with him and I can't tell you how much that meant.

The nurse informed us that they were going to keep my dad over night for observations and to get those other 2 tests done. My dad wasn't thrilled, but we didn't give him a choice. She also told us that they were having a neurologist do a consult.

They moved my dad up to a room and the neurologist came in and did a few memory tests and a few physical tests (for strokes). He passed both tests. (I even had a hard time with the memory one!) The Dr said that it could have been a mini stroke which would have effected his memory and made him light headed and spacey; however, he's know more after reading the MRI.

So now we wait... and wait... and wait for answers. I pray with all my heart that it's something minor that can easily be fixed.

I know that I'll never be ready to lose him, but I'm really not ready, yet. He's still so young and has many, many, many more years left.

So, for now, I leave you with this poem I wrote for him for his birthday years ago:

Dad you’ll never realize

The times I cherished being with you

It was late night plays, weekend matinees

And Chinese lunches, too

It was baseball games

Those many nights

Arena football

And hockey fights

It was actions, cuts and strike the sets

It was props and wardrobes , too

It was Dracula and the Pajama Game

And just spending time with you

It’s the way you’ve always loved me

Whether I deserved it or not

You make me feel so grateful

That I thank God for what I’ve got

I hope you have a great day

Celebrating your birth

I hope that at least one person

Tells you how much your worth

to the moon and back,

Why do we do it?

Why do we do it?

Why do we try to have babies? There are so many risks, so much possible pain, so much possible devastation.

But we still try...

Some of us succeed on the first try (or with out even trying), others spend years and thousands of dollars trying, others never succeed and either choose to adopt or make peace with not having children.

But we still try...

We try even though it may end in miscarriage, we try even though it may end in still birth, we try even if it means that our child will need to be cared for by us forever, we try even if it may take our own lives.

But we still try...

We try even if the finances aren't right, we try even if the house isn't big enough, we try even if we don't have help from our families, we try even if it means losing friendships.

But we still try...

It can be sad, it can be scary, it can be uncomfortable, it can totally change our bodies (hair, skin, shape, etc), it can throw our hormones completely our of whack, it can make us sick for 9 months straight.

But we still try...

Why?

Because it's worth it.

It's worth it for a chance at holding a miracle. It's worth it for a chance at feeling their movements before anyone else knows what's going on. It's worth it for a chance to hear their first tiny little cries. It's worth it for a chance to count their little fingers and toes. It's worth it for a chance to watch them hit every milestone and to see the world brand new through their eyes. It's worth it for a chance to feel unconditional love and to be loved unconditionally. It's worth it for a chance to fulfill one of God's purposes for us as women. It's worth it for a chance to hear them say "I love you" for the first time. It's worth it for a chance to feel the best hugs ever.

Why do we do it, when there seems like there are so many reasons not to? We do it for a chance at something amazing.

to the moon and back,

My miscarriage...

If you follow my blog because of my wit and satire... this post is not for you, as if you couldn't tell by the title. I just wanted to give fair warning that this will be sad, at least if you have a heart it will.

Before I get too far into it, I would at least like to give a few reasons for broadcasting this to the the 5's of people who read this blog. Well, first off, I have said before that I use this blog as a form of therapy for myself. Secondly, I found out the hard way that that keeping stuff locked up is no way to get over it. Finally, this is a subject that not a lot of people want to talk about, so if I can help someone else who can't talk about it feel a little less alone, then it's worth it.

It is a long one...

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On January 25th, before I was even late, I took a pregnancy test. We had been trying so I knew I was within a day or so. Drumroll... A plus sign... What? Pregnant? I have to say I was shocked. We really had only been trying for a month. Man, that was quick, I thought I'd have a few months at least. A flood of emotions overwhelmed me and I walked out to show Jon, he got the biggest smile on his face and I broke down and started crying... Not because I was sad, just emotionally overwhelmed.

The next week we went on a trip to TN to visit friends. We had a great time (other than I was recovering from the flu). However, I did have this nagging uneasy feeling. I told Jon and my friend, Sarah, about it. I really couldn't put a finger on it though. It sorta felt like that feeling when your boss says "We need to talk" or when you get called to the principal's office. I was just feeling off, but I sort of contributed that to the changing hormones.

Over the next few weeks, I still had the feeling but it kept lessening. However, now I was just nervous in general, even more so than with my first pregnancy. Again, I just blamed it on hormones well that and the fact that in my close circle of friends, 4 of them had issues following their 1st pregnancy or issues with their 2nd. Including blood clots, Gastroschisis, miscarriage, and Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia.

I had my first appointment with the midwife and everything seemed to be going well. I felt good, other than the normal pregnancy symptoms; being nauseous, dry mouth, sore boobs, minor headaches and mood swings. She checked me and everything seemed to be right where it needed to be. She scheduled me for my bloodwork and my first sonogram.

I kept up with my eating healthy (as much as the cravings and nausea would allow), I did pre-natal yoga, I took my pre-natal vitamins, I walked, I didn't have caffeine, I didn't drink, I stayed away from artificial sweetners... all of the stuff you are supposed to do.

The day of my sonogram came (which happened to be the day before I had to fly to NY for a company trip). Jon met me at the doctor's office and we waited to be called back. We made small talk with the woman doing our sonogram (she was the same one who did them for us when we had Moose). I laid on the table, adjusted my pants and she applied whatever that gooey stuff is to my stomach. She placed the wand on my stomach and as soon as she did, I knew that there was something wrong.

With Moose, we had a sonogram at 5wks 6dys and we saw him. Even though he was tiny, we saw him. I was 9wks 3dys, We should be seeing something. I kept thinking, "Maybe this is just a really wide view, maybe she has to zoom in." Suddenly, I kept thinking, "that has to be it, right? Didn't they have to do that in the beginning with Moose?"

She said, "I'm going to measure the sac now," *mouse click* *mouse click*. "but I'm sorry to tell you that there is no baby there and I honestly can't say that there ever has been. I'm so sorry. I'm just so sorry" And just like that, I wasn't pregnant anymore... Only I was, or at least my body still thought so.

Instant tears, Jon reached for my hand, stood up and held me. Endless tears...

9 & 1/2 weeks... We had known since weeks, we had already started planning, I bought diapers to start stocking up, we had talked about names... How is it that there is no baby? What had I done wrong?? Then instantly I thought, "Oh God, we have to tell everyone that there is no baby... Why didn't we wait to tell until after 12 weeks?" 

Even worse... how was I going to tell Moose that he was no longer going to have a baby brother or sister?

She said that she had to call the doctor to come talk to me about my options. They walked me into another room and the doctor came in. He said that it's called "blighted ovum" (never heard of it? me either read about it here and here) Bottom line is that there was no baby, no fetus and no fetal pole. Apparently, it's very common, I don't know about you, but that's not very comforting. Option one: I could let my body take care of it on it's own or option two: I could have a D&C. A miscarriage is less controlled, could result in hemmorhaging, infection and you never know when it's going to happen. A D&C is more controlled, quick, sterile and fewer chances of complications.

Hmmm... decisions, decisions... And the doctor is standing there looking at me. I'm crying and Jon's fighting back tears. The doctor says that we don't have to make a decision now, unless we want to, but to me the D&C seemed like the right choice (if you feel differently, that's fine, please do judge or question my decision, it was not one that was easily made). Within a matter of minutes the procedure was scheduled for the next Thursday (March14th) and I had to do blood work for a type & screen on Wednesday because I am RH negative.

In one short hour, I had gone from expectant mother, to a woman who was scheduled to remove the "products of conception".

When I picked up Moose from my moms, I told him about it, I had to, he kept asking why mommy was crying and was so sad. So I told him that the baby in mommy's belly went away. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and said "But mommy, I want my baby brother or baby sister." Just the week before he was talking about all of the things he could teach him/her like how to play, and not potty in their diaper and how to sleep and not cry, and how he could make them laugh by making faces at them because that always makes babies laugh. He started crying and said "Mommy, I am so sorry that the baby in your belly went away."

Don't forget, I still had to go home and pack for my trip. The next 4 days I would be away from my family and would have no time to really process because I would be working a tradeshow for 9 hours and day and I was rooming with a co-worker so I wouldn't have time to myself.

In the times I did get to think about it, my mind immediately started blaming it on something I had done:
   Did I not want it enough?
   Should I not have taken the Tami-flu?
   Did I work out too much?
   Did I not start taking my pre-natals early enough?
   Is the D&C the right choice?
   Could I have done something differently?
   Is it ridiculous that I am mourning a baby that was never there?
   Why do I feel embarrassed telling people that there never was a baby?

Sometimes I hate how a mind works... Sometimes no one is to blame. Sometimes things just happen. God knows that there was a reason for this, and whether I understand it or not, I except it and honestly, I'm with Jon in thinking that I am glad it happened sooner rather than later.

Wednesday came and I had my blood work. I hate needles and Moose knows that, he said "I'll hold your hand so you don't get nervous mommy. I don't want my mommy to be nervous." And when I started crying because there was a possible problem with insurance, while squeezing my neck, he said "Oh, it's ok mommy, I am here for you, I'll always be here for you. Don't cry, it's ok".

Thursday, day of surgery... Up at 5:20am to be there by 6:00am, surgery at 7:30am, no longer pregnant by 7:45am. They brought me back for pre-op and got me ready. Then Jon came back to sit with me. Lots of tears and pulling it together and tears and pulling it together. 

Then, the inconsiderate nurses (not mine, mine were really great) in the hall right next to my bay start talking about how on Tuesday a woman with no known allergies went into anaphylactic shock after getting the versed shot. She coded and then needed CPR and almost didn't make it. Really?? I've never had surgery in my life and this is the convo you have outside my room and the rooms of others having procedures today? Jon stepped out and politely asked them to be a little more sympathetic to the patients about to get the same shot.

After that, they gave me the versed, and hauled me off to the OR. I really don't remember anything after that except sliding myself to the other bed. The next thing I remember was waking up, trying to figure out if I was done or what was going on. They brought Jon back and the relief in his eyes was beautiful.

And that was it... we were done and discharged.

I know that I'm not the only woman who has had this problem nor am I the only one who has miscarried but that brings little consolation. Everyone mourns differently, everyone needs their own outlet, everyone needs support, but more importantly everyone needs to move on. I'm not saying that they need to forget, I'm saying that they need to find a way to look back with love and not with anger or hatred or emptiness.

It wasn't my fault... It wasn't your fault... God knew better that us that the timing wasn't right, no matter how hard that is to see right now.

I'm so thankful that I have an amazingly supportive husband, son, family and friends. Though this process is and will continue to be difficult, they have made it so much easier on me.

I love you all...

...to the moon and back,

www.hypersmash.com

I'm in awe...

 

I have to say, I am completely in awe. I wrote last week about a loss my very dear friend had suffered (read it here). When Sarah found out about the babies diagnosis, her plans for the birth changed drastically, from a home birth to a hospital birth, 4 hours from home. Long story short, she didn't have health insurance and now was going to be strapped with tons of medical bills as well as travel expenses.

That was when another dear friend and I decided we needed to do something. Our idea when from a holding a long distance "baby shower" to raise a little bit of money to help with gas and such, to the possibility of hosting a 5K (way out of our scope of planning) to finally a dance-a-thon. Rebecca had been to several Zumba-thons and Sh'Bam classes and thought it would be a great way to raise money. The idea quickly grew legs and the next thing you know we had a website, facebook page, bank account, paypal account and we were ready to promote.

We started this to help lighten their load. We had no idea what to expect, what we got was amazing. Donations starting coming in through the website, people were sharing the facebook page, sponsors started coming in and donations for giveaways and auction items were overwhelming. We held the event yesterday (the 16th of June), and it went so well. Everyone who came out had a great time and we are so appreciative of the ones who came early to help set up and stayed late to help clean up.

The amount of love and prayers that has been poured out for this amazing family has blown my mind. The majority of donations that have come in have been from people who never even met this family. Praise God, we were able to raise a little over $4,000 to help with medical and funeral costs. There is no way that we (Rebecca, the Jackson Family and I) could ever thank you all enough.

From the bottom of our hearts, thank you to everyone who prayed, donated, volunteered, danced, sponsored and everything in-between.

To the moon and back...

I wandered

I kinda feel like this is my testimony. I've had times in my walk when I've fallen away, felt empty, betrayed, but I have realized that with out Jesus, there's really no comfort, no forgiveness and no healing.

A few years ago, I lost my cousin to cancer. She was a year older than me and at the time left behind a 6 year old daughter. Nothing made sense. I was angry at God. I realize now that everything happens for a reason. Good, bad or indifferent, it's not for us to know why. If we didn't have the lows, how would we recognize the highs?

i wandered the street
empty and broken
a shell of love song
better left unspoken
angry and bitter
a soul full of blame
no light to the world
just a snuffed out flame
seeking some guidance
some comfort, some peace
but the resentment's still clutching
no sign of release
when a stranger reached out
offering a hand
promising life
if i just take a stand
but what good is a life
if it's just full of pain
He said to be washed
with His blood comes gain
forgiveness and mercy
flow from His scars
release from this temporary
life behind bars
bars of pain
of sickness and death
i turned to His face
to be filled with His breath
i reached at His robe
for just a touch of healing
begging for love
engulfed with a feeling
i wandered the street
empty and broken
found peace in my savior
and the love He has spoken

Of love and loss and grieving....

Ok, I stole that title from my bosses blog, but it's fitting.

I could start this blog off with "Wow, it's, like totally, been a really long time since I last blogged. I've been sooo super busy with my crazy important life but I totally promise to be better about posting!" (please feel free to read that in your best Valley Girl voice circa 1983), but I won't. Truth is, life happens and while I love writing, and emptying my head of random thoughts (yes, thoughts, plural, I do manage to have more than one, however, trains of thought quickly derail), I also have family, friends, 2.5 jobs, running and the like that fill my days.

I have had a blog brewing in my little brain about the "Are You Mom Enough" article, but my luke warm opinions about most things coupled with the fact that I haven't actually read past the title of the article, have hindered me from diving into that topic further. I am fairly certain, though, that I am not mom enough when you take into account that my almost 3 year old watches TV, has had his vaccinations as well as tylenol & motrin, was only breastfed (and not exclusively, there was formula in the mix) until 14 months, has had (on occasion) a PB&J for breakfast and navigates my iPhone better than me. But that's beside the point, on to the task at hand.

Tonight, I write of love, loss and grieving...

Love... The love of a gracious God, the love of a remarkable mother, the love of humbled friends. First, there is the love of gracious God who gives peace to a family who needs all of the comfort they can get. He has laid out the plans for them and gives them strength though the pain. Then there is the love of a mother, a love that has no rivals. I don't think you can truly understand it until you become one. I'm not taking away from the love a father has for his child, but I am saying that it is a bit different when you have carried, nurtured and felt the child moving from inside you. We give them our bodies for 9 months and in turn they take a piece of our heart with them on the way out. Finally, the love of humbled friends, who no matter how much they do for their friends, no matter how much they give, they are humbled to have the friend who is in need trying to comfort them through her loss.

Loss... One of my dearest friends and her family is having to go through what no one should ever have to experience, the loss of a child. Just a few days ago, after giving birth, she lost her son (you can read about it here). Throughout the pregnancy and birth, she gave her worries to God and above all asked for His will to be done. God's will was done, and part of His plan for Emmett was unveiled as he was able to be an organ donor and has the opportunity to help save the lives of two babies. 

Grieving... I can never claim to know what she is feeling, but I know that since Thursday night, I have been wandering around in a fog with an emptiness in my chest. My heart aches for them and I hate that we (her friends) can't be closer to help her through this and to keep her mind occupied. It's a very helpless feeling to have so much distance between us and to not be able to be with her.

It's amazing how someone so little can fill your heart so much and how you can be filled with so much love so someone that you never got to meet, hold, talk to or cuddle with.

My prayers continue to go out to the Jackson family, I hope you will do the same.

to the moon and back,

"Be Still and Know I am God"

While motherhood has been the most rewarding, stressful, beautiful, disgusting, hilarious, and bittersweet, it has also left me wondering, "How do I fit it all in?"

How do I fit in time for Moose?
How do I fit in time for hubby?
How do I fit in time to cook, clean and coupon (my new obsession)?
How do I fit in time to work?
How do I fit in time with the extended family?
How do I fit in time to exercise?
How do I fit in time for friends?
How do I fit in "me" time?
And most importantly...
How do I fit in time for God?

What? Scheduling time for God? You mean Sunday morning isn't enough? Oh, yea, Sunday morning... I remember doing something called "Church" on Sunday... prior to having Moose. Where can I find the time to be still and know that He is God?

Since I had Moose, on Sunday's you can find me in the nursery at church. I can't remember the last time I sat through a full service. Moose has decided that if I'm not in the nursery with him, then he must cry like he is being tortured, which leads to other kids crying and stressed out nursery workers and then no one is having fun. So to save the sanity of the poor parent who has volunteered their time, I either sit in the nursery with him, or I take him in the service and leave halfway through because he is wiggling.

Because of this, I have felt spiritually starved. Craving to get lost in His word, but never making it a priority. Tonight, I had the utmost pleasure of meeting with some other moms of little ones (without the little ones) who were also in need of a bible study. I have to say, it was so needed and I am so looking forward to more of these. I left study feeling blessed, comforted, reassured, supported and closer to these women than ever.

I'll leave you with a passage of scripture that was in our study tonight and ask you this, are you Martha or Mary?

³⁸ As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. ³⁹ She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. ⁴⁰ But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”
   ⁴¹ “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, ⁴² but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”

To the Moon and Back,