Never A Dull Moment

On Saturday afternoon, we loaded up the van and made our way to Appleton to visit my family.  My sister just started selling Scentsy and was getting ready for her big grand opening party that night.  If you've ever tried to go anywhere with kids, you know it always takes ten times longer than expected.  I was excited that we were actually doing well on time, even with a "quick" stop at the bike shop...until we were half way there and noticed the driver next to us on the highway trying to get our attention. 

Ted slowed down and the other driver drove up alongside us to mouth the words "your back tire is flat".  We immediately pulled over and, sure enough, our back tire on the passenger side was flat as could be and was giving off a strong burning rubber smell.  Ted searched for the spare tire, but, since our van has stow n' go seats, we determined there was either no spare tire or it was impossible to find.  And, of course, we had bought the van used so we had no manual to look for the location of the mysterious spare tire.  Thankfully we have Roadside Assistance with Geico, so Ted called them up right away...as a police officer pulled up behind us. 

While Ted was on the phone with Geico, I rolled down my window to talk to the police officer, who seemed rather annoyed that we had pulled over on the side of a busy highway.  He couldn't seem to understand why we hadn't just simply pulled off the highway, but clearly there was no way we were driving any further on a flat tire.  He waited while Ted confirmed that a tow truck was on the way, but kept reminding us how unsafe it was to be stranded on the side of a busy highway...as if we didn't already know. 

As soon as we confirmed a tow truck was on the way, we realized there was no way three kids with car seats and two adults were going to fit in a tow truck.  I called my dad and he immediately drove over with his van, but he was about a 20 minute drive away.  The police officer who was noticeably annoyed at our predicament had left and a new police officer pulled up behind us just as the tow truck arrived.  Somehow it was then decided that Ollie and I would ride in the back of the police car while Ted took Valerie and Almanzo in the tow truck so we could get off the highway and meet my dad at the closest gas station. 

Almanzo and Ollie had been sound asleep until the tow truck arrived and were very confused and disoriented when we woke them up.  We told them we were on a big adventure and Almanzo was excited to get to ride in the "big truck" and that Pappi was on the way to rescue us.  It was rather strange climbing into the back of a police car with a huge baby belly and a toddler in a car seat.  It was a tight squeeze and I was glad we didn't have to ride for very long.  Ollie was giggling the whole way and nearly burst with excitement when we arrived at the gas station to see Pappi.  We sure caused quite a scene at the gas station! 

Ted then strapped the car seats into my dad's van and I road with him and the kids to my parents' house while Ted continued on with the tow truck to the nearest auto shop.  The kids couldn't wait to tell my mom and my sister about our great big adventure.  Ted didn't arrive for another two hours and was rather annoyed that we had to replace a brand new tire, but we all laughed about the sight of me with a huge belly climbing out of a police car and the humor of strapping car seats into a tow truck and police car that are clearly not meant for car seats.  It's just another one of those "making memories" moments, because there's clearly never a dull moment around here!

Her Name Shall Be...

A week or so before my 20 week ultrasound for our rainbow baby, a high school friend of mine shared with me on facebook that she had a dream about our baby.  She dreamt we were having a girl and we named her Faith.  She said, "I thought it was so fitting...Having faith in The Lord to provide you with what you can handle, in your body, to grow and nurture another new life, and in your family and friends to support you on your rainbow baby journey." 

I couldn't stop thinking about her dream and when we found out that this littlest one is a girl, the name idea just wouldn't go away.  I mentioned the dream to Ted and we both agreed - it was no coincidence.

Not too long after the ultrasound, I attended a ladies' retreat hosted by my friend Amanda's church.  The theme verses were from Romans 12.  When we came to verse 12, I was nearly in tears.  It was one of the few moments where God has spoken to me so clearly through His word.

"Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer."

Romans 12:12 (NIV)

When we lost our baby Hope, joy was the furthest thing from my mind.  How do you find or choose joy in the middle of one of the hardest storms?  The answer came to me as I sat in an exam room of an urgent care far from home, alone...but not alone.  Even as the darkness of grief set in, I still felt His presence surrounding me and I still believed He is good.  When I walked out to the van where my husband sat quietly waiting with a sleeping toddler and the tears fell hard and deep, I knew He wasn't about to abandon us and that, even though we didn't understand, He is still faithful.  

We named our baby Hope to remind us of the hope we have in Him and it's in that hope that we can choose joy, even when it doesn't make sense.  And it was in holding on to hope and pressing into Him that we have learned to be patient in affliction.  Through every storm we've faced, God has never forsaken us and we know that in all things, even the most painful and hard to understand moments, He will one day reveal how He has worked all things together for good.  

As I read the last part of Romans 12:12 over and over again, I thought of all the prayers we have lifted heavenward through the years, from prayers whispered as we sat waiting and wondering if our firstborn would ever come home healthy to prayers wept as my body bled and broke over the tiniest babe gone far too soon from my womb.  We haven't always gotten an answer to our prayers and sometimes our prayers don't even have words - they are simply filled with moaning and weeping as we lay our burdens at his feet.  But still we've remained faithful to come before Him, knowing that He hears and He understands far more than we do.  

Today, as our littlest one, our rainbow after the storm, is stretching and growing in my womb, I'm reminded that even though our story hasn't always been easy or pretty, there is still beauty in the broken and in the God who makes all things new.  Because faith comes not from seeing or getting all the answers, but from "confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see".  So, as we wait for our rainbow baby, our Faith, to arrive safely into our arms, we still hold onto hope and always cling to faith in the One who knows and understands all our yesterdays, todays, and tomorrows. 

* photo credits: Alissa Lapp of Picture Perfect Photography 

Throwback Thursday Stories: College Days & Crossover Friends

Even though these photos are from before I even met my husband, they are still part of our story.  I wouldn't have met him without this church and the friends who guided and encouraged me through so many of my college days.

My first Sunday at Trinity Baptist Church, I walked all the way from campus doubting myself the entire way there.  I had no idea why, but I felt like God was literally leading the way and simply wanted me to follow, even though I didn't know a single person there and the words of His book were still so new to me.

I walked in the church doors that day dripping in sweat from the long walk and trying to both catch my breath and calm my nerves.  The first people I met were Dick & Jean who greeted me at the door and immediately introduced me to the pastor's wife, Lin, who, recognizing me as a college student, then introduced me to another college student, Jenny. 

Jenny and I shared some small talk, none of which I remember today, and before I knew it church was starting.  I don't remember much about the church service that day or even the topic of the sermon.  What I do remember is how I soaked up every word Pastor Leeds shared that day, because my soul was so thirsty for Truth and it was preached and sung and shared in abundance that day.

After church, Jenny told me about Crossover, the Wednesday night bible study for college students and young adults.  She drove me back to school with the promise of picking me up again on Wednesday and I began counting down the days and minutes.

That first Wednesday of Crossover, I was greeted by warm smiles and kind words.  I joined the circle of men and women who would soon become dear friends and my heart was filled as Jeremy pulled out his guitar and began leading us in worship songs.

As the music ended, Regan began to walk through the book of Ephesians and I remember staring in awe as he spoke verse after verse without even glancing down at his bible. Then, he began to preach with such passion and emotion as my heart again soaked up every bit of truth and grace he shared.  This was what my soul was missing and I could not get enough of it.  

Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights became a refuge for me in the middle of stressful college exams and deadlines and trying to figure out who I was and what the future held for my life.  I began to hide His words in my heart and understand what it meant to walk with Him.

By the time my junior year of college came, I had developed some deep friendships and church felt like home.  I spent Sunday afternoons enjoying lunch and fellowship with Pastor's family...and one Sunday we were all joined by a certain young man who had just moved to the area all the way from Michigan.  But that's a story for another day...

Linking up with Jessica of The Mom Creative for Throwback Thursday Stories.

Throwback Thursday Stories: My Grandma, The Writer

I've spoken often on facebook and my personal blog about my grandma Klein.  She was a writer and is a big part of why words are as much a part of me as breathing.  She could really paint a picture with her words and she could captivate an audience with her stories.

I remember how much we loved sitting late at night in their living room watching my grandpa display old slides with their slide projector and screen while my grandma would weave stories of the past into the present.  I can still picture how we would hang on her every word, laughing, crying, and just enjoying her storytelling magic.

She left behind years and years of journals filled with her words, but some of her most precious words are the ones she would write to me every year in my birthday cards.  When my grandpa became proficient with a computer, he would make a big production of choosing graphics and typing out my grandma's words, but before then she would hand write her own beautiful words that made every birthday so much more special.

These two photos are from the front and back of a birthday card from my childhood that seems ordinary, but, to me, it's one of my most priceless treasures.  I know that she would have been one of the biggest supporters of my writing and would have cheered me on the loudest as I continue to pursue my writing dream.  One day, when I finally finish the memoir book I'm writing and hold in my own hands the pages of my own words published for the world to see, I will imagine her smiling as she holds her own copy and bragging to her friends about her granddaughter, the writer. 

Linking up with Jessica of The Mom Creative for Throwback Thursday Stories.

Throwback Thursday Stories: A Bicycle Built For Two

When Ted and I were dating, I had no idea what he meant by training and racing mountain bikes.  All I knew of biking was my old Walmart huffy bike I proudly bought with my allowance money when I was younger and family bike rides on the trails down by the river.  The first time he decided we should go on a bike ride together, he was literally riding circles around me and I felt bad for slowing him down when he clearly had a "need for speed". 

His next scheme to include me on his daily bike rides was for me to strap on some roller blades and skate behind him on one of the local paved trails.  He quickly realized I was far from an athlete and his eyes grew wide when I explained why... 

I was the kid in elementary school who was excused from running the mile and would often walk out in the middle of gym class to take my inhaler before I had a full on asthma attack.  In middle school, my mom began to notice that even going on long walks as a family was hard for me, but it wasn't until I was nearly in high school before doctors figured out I also had a congenital heart defect called coarctation of the aorta.  Our family trip to Disney just months before my heart surgery included a wheelchair for me, because I literally was too weak and tired to walk through the parks. 

The heart surgery made such a tremendous difference that even my asthma seemed to improve - causing us to wonder how many symptoms we had simply brushed off as asthma related.  Still, as a high school student who had never been very active and was also overweight, gym class was terrifying.  I managed to get a passing grade, but I never excelled or pushed myself. 

When Ted brought up the idea of a tandem bike, I thought he was joking.  But the next thing I knew, we were riding on this bicycle built for two and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it.  We spent many date nights going for a tandem bike ride. 

During our first year of marriage, when were struggling to adjust our expectations with reality, the tandem bike was nearly a lifesaver.  At least one night a week, we would ride the tandem bike out on the trails, so I was able to spend time with him and he was still able to continue his training for race season.  We even brought it along on our honeymoon...although one of the two times we rode it during that week was a near disaster; I'll save that story for another day!

The photo above was taken on one of our visits to Michigan while we were dating.  We could just barely fit the tandem bike inside his Subaru.  He managed to bribe me with ice cream to go on a 30+ mile bike ride that weekend.  By the time we returned to his parents' home, his mom and sisters were at the door waiting to make sure I was okay.  We still laugh at the memory of them scolding him for making me ride so far, but their genuine concern made me realize how much they already cared about me. 

Linking up with Jessica of The Mom Creative for her weekly series on Throwback Thursday Stories.

Throwback Thursday Stories: Welcoming Our Firstborn

I shared this picture on facebook today and, while most of my friends and family know our story, there are still many who don't understand how that day was both the best and worst day of my life. 

My husband and I arrived at the hospital early for my induction, a decision we had carefully made after she refused to show any signs of entering this world at two weeks overdue.  It was just the beginning of disappointments for me, because I had planned and dreamed of an all natural, intervention free birth...and, in my naive dream world, I imagined her birth day would be nothing but joy filled.

But nothing about her birth story was what I expected.  By mid afternoon, I began to experience horrible back labor and by mid evening I was barely at 5 cm dilated.  My husband practically begged me to agree to some kind of pain medication as I sobbed through each contraction.  I still desperately wanted the birth I had envisioned and I simply felt defeated finally admitting it wasn't going to happen.

I agreed to an epidural and was finally able to rest for a little while, before I woke up shaking uncontrollably.  I was freezing, but my body was burning up.  My teeth wouldn't stop chattering and my head was throbbing.  I had spiked a 105 fever, but I was ready to push.

I don't remember much from then until she was born as fever and exhaustion took over other than the doctor telling me to "push one more time - you're almost there!" over and over for an hour and a half.  Just before the final few pushes, I vaguely remember the doctor's look of concern as her heart rate dropped and I heard him whisper "c-section" to one of the nurses.  That was all it took for me to muster enough energy for those final pushes.

When she was born, she was covered in meconium and I didn't hear her cry.  Nurses rushed to pump out all the fluid and meconium she had swallowed and before I knew it she was whisked away to the nursery when her breathing was still shallow.  This was the only glimpse I had of her until she was almost three hours old...

When she was finally brought to my postpartum room, I noticed her breathing still wasn't quite right, but I was too in awe of her and afraid to say anything that would cause the nurses to take her away again.  I barely got a chance to attempt breastfeeding for the first time before the pediatrician arrived and she was taken back to the nursery.  I knew something was wrong when the pediatrician came to our room without her, but I never imagined the journey we would soon embark on.

It was first thought that she had pneumonia from swallowing so much fluid and meconium.  We began to accept that she would be need a week of IV antibiotics, but would be able to room in with me in an extended stay room.  The first time we went to visit her in the nursery after IV antibiotics were started, I noticed she was very agitated.  The nurses told me I couldn't breastfeed her and I was too naive and exhausted to argue.  As I held her, she stared at me with sad eyes and then became upset when I didn't offer her food for her empty tummy.  The nurse then told us to leave, because our presence and even our voices were too upsetting to her.

I left the nursery nearly in tears, but the tears didn't really come until a few hours later, when we returned to the nursery to say good night before attempting to get some rest.  When we walked in her crib was empty and then I noticed a nurse and a different pediatrician standing over one of the warming tables.  They told me she had started to have seizures and a medical transport helicopter was on the way from a nearby NICU to transfer her there.  I didn't hear anything else she said as I stared at my newborn daughter, whose body was limp except for the tiny twitches from the seizures.  I left the room before the tears came and fell on the floor of my postpartum room in a heap of gut wrenching sobs.

My husband held me and prayed for our newborn daughter and, when the tears finally calmed enough, we called our pastor and then my mom.  The on call OB doctor agreed to discharge me so we could follow our daughter to the NICU hospital and we hurried back to the nursery to hold our daughter while we waited for the NICU team to arrive.  When they arrived, I tearfully handed her over and painfully made my way back to my room to pack.  My husband held my hand and I cried silent tears as we drove to the NICU hospital that night.  We spent the night in the family room of the NICU, my mom curled up on a reclining chair while my husband curled up next to me on the pull out couch and held me as I cried myself to sleep.

The next two weeks were a blur of ups and downs.  When we talk about it now, my husband and I have no idea how we made it through the severe exhaustion and emotional trauma of that time...except for the grace of God, the steadfast prayers of so many, the daily support of my mom who rarely left our sides, and the constant outpouring of love from our families and friends.  As I type these words, it's still hard to explain what those days were really like.  We ran on little sleep and our sole focus was on our tiny princess who had already so wrapped her little fingers around our hearts.  We still don't know exactly what caused her seizures, but, miraculously, we finally brought her home at almost two weeks old...completely healthy. 

Linking up with Jessica of The Mom Creative for her new series on Throwback Thursday Stories.  As hard as it was to write these words, there's something healing in sharing our story. 

A New Year's Surprise

(A huge thank you to my friend, Chris, for the beautiful photo shoot.)

I don't even know where to begin.  I'm so overwhelmed with a mix of emotions right now.

For the past month or so, I've been struggling with stomach issues again.  I explained it away with one reason after another, but when I threw up on the second day of the new year, I just knew.  I pulled out a pregnancy test and within seconds that one very dark line showed up.  I sat there staring at it, still somehow in shock, and walked out of the bathroom in a daze.

I held it out for Ted to see and he looked at me with a huge smile and pulled me close for a hug.  The kids were getting ready for bed, but not much gets past them.  They demanded to know what was going on and the next thing I knew there was a dance party in the middle of our living room with lyrics that went something like this: "We're gonna have a new baby! We're gonna have a new baby!"

I looked over to Ted once more and whispered, "I'm excited, but also a little scared".  He didn't need to say anything at all, because we both knew that pregnancy after a loss wouldn't be easy.  But then I remembered the word God had already shown me for the year and I knew He was preparing me for this very moment.  I had a decision to make right then and it's a decision I will continue to make throughout this pregnancy: I am not going to live in fear anymore.

Losing our baby Hope broke me and it's something I can't ever forget or get over.  While we are overjoyed at this new little life, there is still a mix of grief because our family will never really be complete this side of heaven.  This month I should be looking forward to the big 20 week ultrasound, but instead my body is just starting a new journey as a new little life is once again carefully knit together in my womb.  It's such a strange place to be in.

It would be so easy for me to fall into anxiety and panic attacks over the what ifs and unknowns when our loss is still so fresh, but I am sick of fighting a fight that's already been won.  God promises victory over every stronghold that weighs me down because He already won the victory on the cross.  He is never surprised by the things that sweep us off our feet and He never leaves or forsakes us no matter how big the storm.    I don't know what the future holds, but He does and I'm going to rest in the peace that is only found in Him.

Pregnancy is hard enough for me without adding in fear and anxiety.  I struggle with severe morning sickness, which is not something most people understand.  A good day for me, almost to the third trimester, is when I only throw up once or twice.  Really bad days mean I can barely get out of bed, because I'm so weak and exhausted from throwing up all day long.  On those days, I can barely eat toast or consume even a glass of water.  And before you ask, yes, I've tried every remedy there is.  During my pregnancy with Ollie, my doctor even put me on Zofran, which really just meant I only threw up once a day.  I lost at least 10 pounds before I finally started gaining weight near the end of the second trimester. 

I don't want to complain, because I would have gladly taken months of this just to have our baby Hope in my arms...but it doesn't make the day to day easier.  We're stocking up on easy meals like mac & cheese and frozen pizzas and I'm taking advantage of every second of nap time. The fact that my oldest two are fairly independent is a huge help, because they are really good at keeping their little brother occupied while I lay on the couch most of the day.  Pregnancy reminds me just how much of a blessing it is to be a stay at home mom, because I don't know how I'd manage this if I still had to work outside the home.  I'm also filled with a fresh gratitude for the wonderful husband God has given me, because when I'm this sick he comes home after a long day of work and takes care of all the household duties I usually manage on my own...and even lets me crawl in bed before the kids are asleep.

I'm also grateful for a very supportive OB doctor.  At my follow up appointment for the miscarriage, she sat and talked with me for nearly an hour and even prepared me for some of the mix of emotions I could expect with another pregnancy after loss.  Last week Wednesday I had my HCG and progesterone levels tested, mostly just to ease my mind, and I can't tell you what a relief it was to hear over the phone that my levels looked great and were just where they should be. 

Today, I had an ultrasound to find out how far along I am and to sneak a peak at our baby.  I cannot put into enough words what it felt like to see our beautiful little baby, with heart beating strong, show up immediately on that ultrasound screen.  I nearly cried tears of joy, because that moment just made this pregnancy feel that much more real and exciting. 

I've thought about keeping this a secret for longer, but then I realized the only reason to keep it a secret would be fear.  No matter what the future holds, this is a new life to be celebrated and loved and prayed for.  So, without further ado, here is our little new year's surprise, due to arrive sometime around August 17: