everyday Ann

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In His Time

A few weeks back the pastor at our church gave a homily referencing the First Reading from 2 Kings about a woman who was without child. The prophet Elisha promised her that “this time next year you will have a baby son.” Our pastor mentioned about the prayer requests he receives from couples struggling with infertility who so badly want to start a family and have children.

He then went on to say that he has seen many times couples adopt and then go on to have one or more biological children. Something I absolutely hated hearing when we were in the adoption process. It seemed almost every other person would say, now just watch after you adopt you will get pregnant. I grew so frustrated with this. Not that I had given up hope or didn’t have faith that with God all things are possible. It was that I had accepted the cross of infertility, let go of my own plans and accepted God’s will.

There we sat in the pew. Our beautiful sons who came to us through adoption, an 18 month old and a baby in the womb who we will meet so very soon. I had to laugh at first, we were the stereotypical family Father was describing. Yet, before I knew it tears were beginning to find their way down my cheeks. It surprised me that I was getting so emotional over what he was talking about, the crosses we carry, not always seeing our prayers being answered.

I couldn’t pin point it. Was it pregnancy hormones. Tears of thankfulness and joy having been blessed with four beautiful children after years of suffering. Or remembering the pain of the cross which we carried for so many years. Reflecting on it more I think they were both tears of joy and those of pain.

The cross was heavy and at times made me feel like I was breaking. A cross carried for seven years, the weight never seeming to lighten. So many moments of crying out to God both in sorrow and in anger. Pleading and wondering if my prayers were ever being heard.

In the pain and waiting God was at work. His plan was being revealed in ways we never could have imagined. Although it seemed my heart was breaking, he was making it anew. When my faith seemed shaken he was strengthening every thread that was left.

Tears of joy, so much joy. Within a 2 1/2 year time span we went from 0 to 4 children. I sat in the pew with my arms and heart full. In awe of God’s goodness. My family created in beautiful ways I never could have imagined. God’s perfect timing. His perfect will. “Remember the marvels the Lord has done.” Psalm 105

In reality not every couple’s story turns out like ours, not every cross is always lifted. Yet God is still at work, his hand their to guide us, his love their to forever sustain us.

To hear the entire homily, select July 2 and start it around 24:00.

Remembering

awareness

If you are on facebook you may have seen similar pictures as the one above posted and shared over the last few weeks. Several years ago this wasn’t the case. In 1988 Ronald Reagan declared October as pregnancy and infant loss awareness month and it seems that finally awareness happening. Women are opening up, receiving healing, finding support and recognizing that their grief is real as so many have suffered alone and in silence.

I have always written about miscarriage prior to having children, so it may appear like I have forgotten or am over it now that my arms are full with my three littles. It couldn’t be further from the truth. The connection between a mother and her baby is real and unforgettable, no matter how small the life may be. The love is real and the grief that follows even more real.

While doing a radio interview before Grace was born the host introduced me as the mother of eight. I had to fight back the tears as I was live on the air in seconds. I had never thought of myself this way and to hear her say it on national radio took me by surprise. How beautiful it was to hear her recognize my babies gone too soon right along with my sons and the baby I was carrying.

Every time I hear of a woman who miscarried or loss her baby, my heart is torn open. The feelings that I think have gone away flood back over me as my heart aches for the mother who is in mourning. Every time I hear of a friend becoming pregnant I find myself whispering the words, please God do not let her lose her baby. So many years later and I still remember. It is a loss I wish no mother would have to experience. A cross I pray no one has to carry.

Daily I ask my babies to pray for me and plead their help as I know they have the ear of God. It may seem like just a nice sentiment, but I know they are in heaven and I can call on them.

Noel, Francis, Simon, Cecilia and Gabriel please pray for us. Until we meet, please look after your mama. I may not be able to hold you in my arms, but I will forever hold you in my heart.

You Are Not Alone

woman waitingIt seems one of the most common things I hear from women who have suffered the loss of a child through miscarriage is the feeling of being alone. Isolated, desolate and alone. Utter loneliness, because it seems no one can relate or understand the grief and the loss.

I am not an expert, counselor or psychologist, but I speak from experience. From the experience of my own loss of five babies, whose lives ended all too soon and from the stories of heartache other women have poured out to me. As I reflect on my own story and those of countless other women, there are certain themes that run through our grief. Although, not every woman’s journey is the same in how they process their loss and move towards healing, I write this to tell you, you are not alone.

You are not alone when you feel that no one understands your loss. You try to hide your grief and move on, not knowing how to process your feelings. You go back to work and to day to day activities as if nothing happened. Acting as if everything is okay you dare not bring it up in any conversation for fear of how others may or may not react.

You are not alone when you feel confused and continually ask, why me? When the confusion wells into anger at your God. A feeling that scares you, as you have never felt this pit of anger before. Any prayer you can dare to muster simply turns into yelling as you cry out to God. At the same time you hold God responsible for not saving your baby’s life and feel as if you are completely abandoned.

You are not alone when tension arises in your marriage and your anger soon is directed at your husband, because it seems he’s already over it. You feel he has forsaken you in your need, because this was his baby too. Why does he not grieve the same way? Why doesn’t his heart feel completely shattered?

You are not alone when you begin to wonder if you will ever feel normal again, back to yourself and how life used to be. Questioning the grief and scared it will never leave, longing for the joy you used to have. Clinging to any sense of normalcy as it serves as a glimmer of hope that someday you may feel okay.

You are not alone when you find yourself on the brink of tears at any moment. Whether it’s seeing pregnancy announcements on social media, simply walking past the baby section in the store or a random song, phrase or word that causes the tears to flow and seem to never stop.

You are not alone if you are scared in trying to conceive again. The mixed feelings of hope, yet fear and doubt. Thinking of seeing two pink lines met with excitement and at the same time overcome with anxiety considering the possibility of having to go through this all over again.

You are not alone, so many women are suffering through this together with you in spirit. Allow yourself time to grieve, this was your baby who you already had dreams for. Take time off of work to take care of yourself and process the loss. Have no shame in what you are feeling, for your feelings are real. Don’t be hard on your husband he is grieving as well but in a different way. He wants your joy back as much as you do, but sometimes struggles to express his hurt.

You are not alone, reach out and find community. Other women who have a similar experience can provide a safe haven when you don’t know where to turn. The ache in your heart will never completely go away, as you will always remember the baby you never held, but it will get better and your joy will return. You may never understand why this happened and it’s okay to not have the answers. Just always remember when the tears begin to well and your heart aches, you are not alone.

Bringing Awareness

October is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, it was designated by President Ronald Reagan in October 1988. I was only made aware of this a few years ago. Perhaps I found out because of the increase of technology, wide spread use of social media or having my own blinders removed when my life was personally impacted. I like to think that maybe after all of these years awareness is happening.

With that said you will probably find me doing several posts this month related to the topic. No matter how short the life lived, they have forever impacted your journey and constantly remain in your heart.

It’s important to raise awareness for those who have experienced the loss, those who are grieving and those who never knew how to grieve. Even more so to let them know they are not alone.

Even though one in four pregnancies ends in the loss of a baby, doesn’t mean the feelings are less real or the hurt less deep. Although the intention may be well meaning, the grief can sometimes seem written off by statements made by family, friends and the medical community.

I have found that no matter how many times you experience it, it doesn’t get easier. Yes, you may feel like you can navigate the waters better and know what you need as you go through the process. It doesn’t take away that each time is a loss, because every life is unique, precious and beautiful, not just another statistic.

My heart goes out to each and every one of you that has experienced a loss in this way. You will be in my thoughts and prayers in a special way. During this month may you find more healing, more peace and may more awareness be made.

When You Are the Couple With No Kids

flowerI think one of the more difficult things for couples suffering infertility is the constant reminder of what you don’t have. None of it is done directly, but simply comes with the territory and is just part of the ache that continually stays in your heart.

I feel lately I have been experiencing more of those reminders. Awkward moments when people ask, how many kids do you have or I bet your family is on your case to have kids. Without fail every time…I produce awkward silence…wondering how I should answer. As often as I get the question I am beginning to think I should have already come up with a generic answer by now, a go to response, but I seem to be thrown every, single, time.

I realize a generic answer doesn’t always work depending on the person or situation, but I usually always walk away wondering if I should have said something different or something more. Then again what if I would say too much, the last thing I want to do is make anyone uncomfortable with my answer.

Do I share about the miscarriages, do I share about the adoption, do I share about the desire in my heart to be a mom or do I choose to just be silent? More often than not I choose the latter. A simple no, followed by silence, and I move on to change the topic.

No matter what the situation, the end result is always the same the reminder of what I don’t have. The continual reminder of the road we have been on for the past 6+ years and the feeling like sometimes we are the only ones.

I guess if there is no other purpose to this post, it’s to say I know what you are going through. The thoughts and feelings of wondering what others are thinking about you, hoping you are not being judged, but concealing in your heart your inmost longings.

Couples who experience infertility often suffer in silence, not wanting to inconvenience anyone with their troubles. It’s something that can’t be seen, so it’s not noticed. Often deeply personal and hard to initiate in conversation unless they are asked. It almost becomes a taboo topic.

Now I begin to wonder if my silence in conversations only contributes to it. Perhaps acknowledging the five babies I carried, but never held, would provide an opening in the conversation. An opening for someone else to share their story, their loss and their hurt that they have held on too for so long, but dared not to tell anyone. Perhaps sharing would help another woman find healing.

Although, I always dread what seems like a million questions when we tell someone we are adopting. Perhaps sharing about our journey, even though it hasn’t been easy it is filled with so much love, would inspire someone else. Perhaps it would help them love their neighbor a little more.

As I reflect on what I am writing, I can’t promise the next time the question is asked I will have a good answer. I know for certain though, I will think twice and perhaps maybe allow my heart to help someone else’s hurt.

So for all the times I keep silent, I hope that in some small way through posts like this, the silence will be broken and perhaps someone out there will also begin to experience healing.  Perhaps someone will also feel they are no longer alone when the question arises.