A Little Lesson...in What NOT to Say

We've felt an overwhelming amount of support, love, and encouragement in the past week. Our family and friends have been praying for us and for our lost baby and we couldn't be any more thankful for that. Our hearts are beginning to heal. However, there have been a few moments and conversations in the past few days that have left me feeling even more heartbroken, angry, and confused.

I know how difficult it is to know what to say to people when they experience something bad - be it a death, a job loss, a cancer diagnosis, and even a miscarriage. On the other hand, I'd like to think that most people at least know what NOT to say. I thought I'd share a few examples of what not to say in case you're ever in a situation of offering support and sympathy.

Let me preface these examples by giving you some background as to where most of them came from. Most of you know that I work in an oncology department at a community hospital. Therefore, I work with people who treat and support those affected by a terrible, often incurable, disease. These people tend to be empathetic, supportive, and very aware of what they say to patients. These are also people who understand the importance of privacy - we are governed by a little thing called HIPAA afterall.

Onto the examples. When someone has been away from work for a few days and you've been notified that it's because of a "medical emergency" you do NOT ask them when they return what the medical emergency was. If they offer the information willingly, then it's okay to talk about it. But walking up to someone and saying, "So what was your medical emergency?" is not an acceptable or appropriate question.

And since people can't seem to keep anything you tell them private (even in a place that values privacy), most people already knew about the miscarriage. While some were very supportive and offered great advice, lots of hugs, and great conversation, others felt the need to offer more inappropriate comments. Again, here are a few things NOT to say: "Well, you just got married and you really shouldn't have been trying to start a family yet anyways" OR "Oh, you are way too young anyways... you'll have plenty of time to have kids in your life" OR "It happens to so many women I don't know why people get surprised when this happens" OR my personal favorite "Well, having two days off will certainly help you to get over it". Yes, these are all real comments and if you're even remotely human you may probably be sitting with your jaw dropped, wanting to punch each of the people responsible for these comments. Those were my immediate responses, anyways.

So, there you have it. A few examples of what NOT to say. I'd like to think everyone reading this blog is intelligent enough to know that those are not appropriate comments to make in any situation. The hardest part is often figuring out what you should say. And my advice is simple: tell someone dealing with a loss that you're there to listen, you're there for a hug, you're very sorry, and that you will pray for them. And don't just say those things - mean them and do what you promise.

Heartbroken

For the past couple of days I have been going back and forth about whether I would share the heartbreak of the past few weeks or not. For me, writing is therapeutic... it helps me to process my thoughts and feelings. So here I am, sharing one of the greatest heartbreaks of my life.

Last week when I asked for prayers it was because Dave and I found out the baby we were expecting in September may have stopped growing. We went in for our first prenatal visit, excited to see our baby on our first ultrasound and to learn all about what the next seven months of the pregnancy would hold. During the ultrasound, the doctor told us that the baby appeared to only be at six weeks of development. She told us this meant one of two things: either we were off by two weeks on when we thought we conceived OR the baby had stopped growing and the pregnancy wasn't viable. I cried. Dave cried. She told us to come back in a week and she'd repeat the ultrasound in hopes of seeing growth and a heartbeat.

On Monday I turned 24. I told Dave I wasn't celebrating my birthday this year because it wasn't fair... the baby inside of me could very well no longer be alive and I had to celebrate the fact that I was born 24 years earlier. Call it mother's intuition but on Monday, I just knew that something was wrong. I was angry. Nervous. Disappointed. Fearful. I had spent the week praying like I've never prayed before. Yet, on Tuesday when we went in for our second ultrasound, it was bad news. My doctor confirmed that the pregnancy wasn't viable - there was still no heartbeat and there had been no further development. She gave us three options. Dave and I decided that we wanted to try and let my body miscarry on its own first. My doctor gave me medicine to help induce the miscarriage. I started the medication Tuesday night and by 4:30am on Wednesday I had miscarried. It was the most horrible, painful experience.

We have had the support and prayers of so many family and friends. So many other women have shared their stories with me... it's been helpful to know that we aren't alone in this. We still struggle to understand why this had to happen to us. I know that the next time we become pregnant, it will be different - there will be a lot more anxiety. I know that I will never again get to experience the happiness and pure joy that comes along with finding out you're pregnant because of this experience. After days of crying and asking "why me?" I've realized that God gave me this challenge because he knew I could face it with strength and grace. He has a great plan for our lives that is bigger than anything Dave and I could imagine. Someday we will have a house filled with children - biological and adopted. We will look back on this experience and realize that it was just a tiny speedbump on the journey of completing our family.

When I opened my devotional on Wednesday morning I remembered it was Ash Wednesday. I almost felt a sense of calm about that fact. The verse for the day was perfect for what we had experienced just hours earlier. It read: "He hath bourne our griefs, and carried our sorrows... and with his stripes we are healed" (Isaiah 53:4-5).

This has been the biggest heartbreak I have ever experienced. I pray for our baby and am comforted knowing that he/she is hanging out with God in Heaven. Thanks for all the prayers, support, and encouragement in the past few weeks. It's meant more to us than we could ever express gratitude for.

Playing Mom

For the past four days I've been playing mom to my three favorite kids - Emily, Katie, and Dylan! Dave's gotten in some practice playing dad, too, but mostly I've been on my own these last couple of days. I've known these kids for nearly five years now and I have to admit they are the easiest kids to take care of in the entire world... trust me, I've watched lots of kids since my early teenage years! Needless to say, even with the easiest kids in the world, it's still tough work spending five days with three kids when you're used to just taking care of yourself (and a husband I suppose). In the past few days I have learned some valuable lessons about parenthood:

1. Mom = chauffeur! I've certainly wracked up a few extra miles these past couple of days. Between school pick-up, driving to baseball practice, playdates, church, the grocery store (twice), the movie theater, and both barns, I feel like I should have plastered a Chauffeur sign no top of the Murano and started asking for tips. Now I know why mom's drive minivans and why they carpool for nearly everything!

2. There is a right way to serve every kind of meal. The kids reminded me of this when I made tacos on Thursday night and didn't use all the traditional taco stuff - the tongs for the cheese, the bigger plates, the right shredded lettuce. At least I served the spaghetti dinner right! WHEW!

3. You must learn to like Spongebob Squarepants if you want to survive parenthood. I have always found this show rather annoying but I dare not vocalize that to a six year old. I learned that the show really isn't all that bad afterall - it kept Dylan entertained at 6:30am so that I could squeeze in a few extra minutes of sleep.

4. Sometimes you have to be the bad guy. The kids have never warranted any discipline in the five years I've been watching them but sometimes they do push the rules. Well, come Friday night I had to make Dylan go to bed when it was already a good hour and a half after his bed time. After stomping up two flights of stairs, tears, and a few "you're mean!"'s, I learned that enforcing the rules can sometimes be very difficult.

5. Always make them go to the bathroom before bed. Even if they say they don't have to. Enough said.

6. Kids have a unique view of the world. Today, I told Dylan that Dave was at our house cleaning and doing laundry for me. Dylan informed me that I was treating him like a slave and that men should never have to do those things. I reminded him that good husbands help their wives with chores but he insisted it was still slavery.

And finally, parenthood is certainly easier when the kids come one at a time, when they aren't starting their teenage years, and when the kids are in fact your own. It's been a long couple of days but I've learned a lot and certainly had a lot of fun with the kids. I'm looking forward to tomorrow when I can celebrate a belated Valentine's day with the hubby and enjoy my 24th Birthday...kid-free!!

In Need of a Few Prayer Warriors

"Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer." - Romans 12:12

"But blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in him." - Jeremiah 17:7

"Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." - Hebrews 11:1

I've been reflecting on these verses all morning as I struggle to have patience and to trust in the will of the Lord. Last night we got some news that we really weren't expecting. In fact, it was the type of news that really shook me to my core - caused me to question God's will for my life and the plans that I thought he was creating for us. I wish I could share more details but at this time we have decided to keep this personal in order to process everything that's happening. What I AM sharing is our need for strong prayer warriors to pray for us and with us... pray that in the next week we have the strength to deal with the challenges God brings to us, that we have the ability to be patient and wait for this week to pass, and that we truly trust in God's will for our lives. We have been blessed with the support of such amazing family and friends who have been continually praying for us. I promise to share more details after next week but for now, if you can find it in your heart to fulfill this rather vague prayer request we'd be SO grateful!

D-I-Y

Being a homeowner is wonderful... sometimes. Right now, I'm having a love-hate relationship with our house. I am incredibly grateful that we were able to purchase a beautiful home with lots of room for our family to grow in. But there are certain things about our house that I really dislike right now.

The first is the downstairs bathroom. Back in September I got this urge to tackle our first home project. The wedding was over and everything was unpacked - it was time to start making our house feel more like our home. The downstairs bathroom is a half-bath but it's pretty good sized. It was a cute little room with the exception of the wallpaper. It wasn't that ugly, 70's-style wallpaper that most houses have (probably because our house wasn't even built until the late 80's) but I am a firm believer that wallpaper has no place in the modern home. So with the advice of my parents (who have tackled countless walls of wallpaper removal) I set out to re-finish the half-bath. I figured it would be a weekend project. One day to remove the wallpaper and prime the walls and another day to paint and get everything back in there. Wellllll it's almost five months later and our half-bath is still not done. What was supposed to be a weekend D-I-Y project turned into a nightmare. As we began scraping the wallpaper off we noticed that the wall was starting to crumble... and that we were actually scraping layers of wallpaper, paint, and more wallpaper. Yes, the lovely previous owners of the home decided that removing the original wallpaper was too much work so they would simply paint over it. Then they must have decided to re-wallpaper and alas, one more layer for us to scrape! We striped the walls to the drywall only to find that the drywall couldn't be sanded smooth enough to re-paint. And that's where we left it. We shut the door and put up a lovely sign that reads "Under construction: please use upstairs bathroom". Out of sight, out of mind, right? Ehhh for a while. But now I'm sick of always having to run upstairs. I'm embarrassed to tell our guests that our bathroom is STILL not finished. So, my goal for this month is to finish the bathroom. We will demolish it and start from scratch - new drywall, new fixtures, new paint - new everything! I'm hoping I'll have a finished picture to share soon!

As for the other D-I-Y home projects on my list, the ugly red-walled guest bedroom is next followed by repainting the kitchen cabinets (my temporary fix until we can remodel). In the Spring we plan to do some new landscaping with the help of my green-thumbed parents. And then there's a house full of white woodwork that could use a fresh coat of paint - or at least a good cleaning! Oh the joys of home ownership! The list never ends!

A Little Perspective... and A Little Sleep

For the past twelve weeks I have been facilitating a grief support group for children at a local non-profit agency. Each of the children lost a parent to death - be it suicide, an accident, or cancer. I had seven amazing children in my group, ranging in age from 4 to 8. I was a little (okay, very) nervous at first to be talking about death with such young children. Did they understand what it meant to die? Would they cry all the time? Would I be able to answer all their questions? In looking back at the last twelve weeks, I realized I had absolutely nothing to be nervous about. In fact, those seven children gave me a little perspective on my own life and in the end, aided in me overcome my insomnia (if even just for one night).

Last night we had a big party to celebrate the completion of the program. The kids invited their parents to come to the classroom and learn about what they had been doing for the last twelve weeks. Here I thought they would talk about all the great lessons they learned like "It's okay to be sad" and "I should talk to someone when I'm angry." No, not my kids. Instead they shared all the funny and embarrassing moments of the twelve weeks... like the time the youngest girl farted while we were reading a story. And the time one of the boys glued his finger to the table. Or the volcano activity spilling uncontrollably onto the floor. The parents got a good laugh and I'm sure I turned a nice shade of pink. In the end, all the kids had fun and they all learned how to cope with their parent's death. What surprised me, though, was how much I learned from the kids. They reminded me of the innocence of childhood and the sweetness that comes along with simply not caring that you told the class your mom's most embarrassing habits. They reminded me to be thankful for a life with TWO parents and to not take that fact for granted. They taught me about hope that is so pure and love that is so unconditional.

I admit there were nights when I'd come home from a class with the kids completely exhausted, longing for the twelfth week. There were nights when the kids did so much giggling and acted so darn silly I was certain they weren't "getting it". But last night I was a little sad as each of the kids hugged me goodbye and gave me their hand-made pictures and thank you cards. And the BEST part of last night's celebration: I was so completely exhausted that I slept more than I have all week. In fact, I slept until almost 3am... nearly 5 whole hours of sweet, sweet sleep!! Hallelujah!!

Insomnia

I am failing on my promise to be a better blogger. But I do have a good excuse, or I'd like to think that I do anyways. For the past several weeks, I've been experiencing insomnia. I'm talking true, up all night, haven't slept in days, insomnia. I have never in my life had trouble sleeping. EVER. In fact, my family and friends would tease me about my ability to fall asleep anywhere. I've always had the sleeping habits of an 80 year old: to bed early and up at the crack of dawn. It's worked for me. Until now. I have my theories as to what might be causing this insomnia and I'll share that another time but for now I'm simply sharing this because it's driving me crazy! I spend my nights lying in bed, tossing from one side to the next. I'll spend a few hours on the couch, catching up on infomercials and the occasional 3am re-run of the Real Housewives of Orange County. Sometimes I wake Dave up to join me in my misery because let's face it, who wants to be up all night alone. What's funny is that this weekend I had no trouble taking a short nap in the middle of day... but as soon as the stars fill the sky, no sleep. Insomnia has left me grumpy, exhausted, fatigued, and angry! So, instead of filling my blog with random, sleep-deprived thoughts (pretty much like this) I have decided to stay away from the blog until sleep decides to be my friend again. And Lord, please let that be soon!