Sharing (Part 2)

Read Sharing (Part One) here.

It's true. I am pregnant. Finally. But, like all of my other pregnancies, this one couldn't just be easy.

I found out I was pregnant on Mother's Day. What a fabulous gift! This pregnancy would be it! This one would be normal!

Nope.

At my 6 week ultrasound, the tech saw the sack which measured correctly. However, she did not see the baby developing like it should have. It was nothing more than a "yolk" (her words) without a heartbeat. At 6 weeks, there should have been a heartbeat.

The doctor said with a look of sadness on his face that "it was still early" and that "we should wait to see at another scan in a week or so". I knew what that meant. I've already lost 4 other babies. He was just giving me a week or so of hope before my baby would be gone from me forever.

I went home in tears. My next U/S would be at 8 weeks since I was about to leave town for my niece's graduation in Florida. I quickly contacted some of the most reliable, most trusted people in my life who promptly started praying for me and for my baby.

I prepared my mind for the (assumed) fact that I was about to have another miscarriage. I cried. Oh, how I cried. I yelled at God. I even had several moments where my faith wavered. How could God be doing this to us again? I pleaded with God. I remember, the night before the ultrasound, absolutely poring my heart and soul out to God, begging him "Please! Please! Please don't let me lose another!" Verbally yelling this to Him. Then I just decided to give it all to Him. I kind of just gave up that night and said that this baby was His to do with what He wanted, no matter how much I wanted it here. I handed all of my fears and worries over.

I went in to the ultrasound room expecting to hear that the baby was officially gone. I had even made peace with that. But I was in for a shock.

As I stared at the ceiling waiting for the ultrasound to be over, I hear the tech say with shock in her voice "Everything looks great!" Wait... What? "Look. The baby is measuring right on track. There is it's little heart pumping away."

MY BABY WAS ALIVE.

Not only was the baby alive, but it's growth had caught up 100% and it has a strong heartbeat. They seemed as shocked as I was. As I am.

But you know what? I shouldn't be. God works MIRACLES. He works them all the time and I am proof. My baby is proof!

So yeah. I am currently almost 10 weeks pregnant, due New Years. I am announcing this early and I am one to know for a fact that things can change, but I want everybody to know about the miracle that God has done for us.


Because God is good. ALL the time.

Oh, Newtown... We mourn with you.

So, instead of reading about frivolous things or people, remember these innocents who will be spending Christmas with Jesus this year.

• Charlotte Bacon, 6
• Daniel Barden, 7
• Rachel Davino, 29
• Olivia Engel, 6
• Josephine Gay, 7
• Ana M Marquez-Greene, 6
• Dylan Hockley, 6
• Dawn Hocksprung, 47
• Madeline F. Hsu, 6
• Catherine V. Hubbard, 6
• Chase Kowalski, 7
• Jesse Lewis, 6
• James Mattioli, 6
• Grace McDonnell, 7
• Anne Marie Murphy, 52
• Emilie Parker, 6
• Jack Pinto, 6
• Noah Pozner, 6
• Caroline Previdi, 6
• Jessica Rekos, 6
• Avielle Richman, 6
• Lauren Russeau, 30
• Mary Sherlach, 56
• Victoria Soto, 27
• Benjamin Wheeler, 6
• Allison N Wyatt, 6

Pray for Peace

Pray to whoever you kneel down to:
Jesus nailed to his wooden or marble or plastic cross,
his suffering face bent to kiss you,
Buddha still under the Bo tree in scorching heat,
Yahweh, Allah, raise your arms to Mary
that she may lay her palm on our brows,
to Shekinhah, Queen of Heaven and Earth,
to Inanna in her stripped descent.

Hawk or Wolf, or the Great Whale, Record Keeper
of time before, time now, time ahead, pray. Bow down
to terriers and shepherds and siamese cats.
Fields of artichokes and elegant strawberries.

Pray to the bus driver who takes you to work,
pray on the bus, pray for everyone riding that bus
and for everyone riding buses all over the world.
If you haven't been on a bus in a long time,
climb the few steps, drop some silver, and pray.

Waiting in line for the movies, for the ATM,
for your latté and croissant, offer your plea.
Make your eating and drinking a supplication.
Make your slicing of carrots a holy act,
each translucent layer of the onion, a deeper prayer.

Make the brushing of your hair
a prayer, every strand its own voice,
singing in the choir on your head.
As you wash your face, the water slipping
through your fingers, a prayer: Water,
softest thing on earth, gentleness
that wears away rock.

Making love, of course, is already a prayer.
Skin and open mouths worshipping that skin,
the fragile case we are poured into,
each caress a season of peace.

If you're hungry, pray. If you're tired.
Pray to Gandhi and Dorothy Day.
Shakespeare. Sappho. Sojourner Truth.
Pray to the angels and the ghost of your grandfather.

When you walk to your car, to the mailbox,
to the video store, let each step
be a prayer that we all keep our legs,
that we do not blow off anyone else's legs.
Or crush their skulls.
And if you are riding on a bicycle
or a skateboard, in a wheel chair, each revolution
of the wheels a prayer that as the earth revolves
we will do less harm, less harm, less harm.

And as you work, typing with a new manicure,
a tiny palm tree painted on one pearlescent nail
or delivering soda or drawing good blood
into rubber-capped vials, writing on a blackboard
with yellow chalk, twirling pizzas, pray for peace.

With each breath in, take in the faith of those
who have believed when belief seemed foolish,
who persevered. With each breath out, cherish.

Pull weeds for peace, turn over in your sleep for peace,
feed the birds for peace, each shiny seed
that spills onto the earth, another second of peace.
Wash your dishes, call your mother, drink wine.

Shovel leaves or snow or trash from your sidewalk.
Make a path. Fold a photo of a dead child
around your VISA card. Gnaw your crust
of prayer, scoop your prayer water from the gutter.
Mumble along like a crazy person, stumbling
your prayer through the streets.

by Ellen Bass

Why her candle was lit

On October 15, I noticed a friend had a candle lit on her Facebook wall. If you remember my entry from that day, you were to light a candle in memory of your lost pregnancies and infants. I knew my friend (we'll call her Cassie) was pregnant, due at the end of September with her second child, a boy to be named Ethan. Well, I couldn't remember hearing anything about his birth and neither could Timmy (Timmy works with her husband).

I sent Cassie a private message asking if everything was ok because I knew what the candles stood for because I had one lit as well. This is what she sent back:

"Everything is not ok. I went into labor September 29th and when I got to the hospital they couldn't find Ethan's heartbeat. I delivered him at 5 pm. Our hearts are beyond broken and we are just asking for thoughts and prayers as we try to cope/heal/make sense of this. Thank you for checking in and for any prayers you have to spare."

That's what I was afraid had happened when we didn't hear joyous news of a baby's arrival.


So I'm asking you, as I hold my baby girl extra close, to pray for this family. Hold your kids close and pray for all of the families dealing with similar scenarios. Hold your babies close and pray for all of the families who would desperately love to have a baby to hold.


What else can you do in a time like this?

Thankful Thursday-Selah's Dedication

On August 19, a very special little girl got dedicated! She may not know now how important that day was, but she will in the future. Check out the video to see it all go down!

Money Talks - Take the Money and Run (08.19.12) from GSUMC on Vimeo.

If you want to skip the music (where T is drumming), you can check it out around minute 20.

Struggling, but I must write this

Recent events combined with the fact that my eye is much, much worse than when I wrote this is making me just want to cry. And cry, I did. The husband doesn't understand. Other people can't understand. This means more to me than most will understand.

The eye is completely blurry now. I can't even see the computer screen with it, just the light from the monitor. Nighttime vision in the eye is horrible. Without a bright flashlight at night, I can't even go to my daughter's side to help her. I'm constantly dizzy from the uneven vision. I constantly have a headache from it, too. My favorite hobbies, reading and art, have been taken away without the vision. I have a doctor's appointment next week to see if the more serious surgery will help. Hopefully it will.

I'm losing hope. :(

Prayer before meals...

Courtesy of Big Bang Theory


"By His hand, we all are..."
"Fed"

"Give us, Lord, our daily..."
"Bread"

"Please know that we are truly..."
"Grateful"

"For every cup and every..."
"Plateful"

"Amen"

LOVE IT!!! Hahaha!

Hearts beating

I had another doctor appointment today to check on me and baby. Things went well and then the doctor told me to lay back  so he could check on the baby's heartbeat. A few of you guys know how nervous I was that there wouldn't be a heartbeat this time and my hopes and dreams would be dashed again. It took everything to bury those thoughts. The doctor took the machine and pressed it to my pelvis. Nothing. He moved it a bit. Still nothing. My fears started rising again. He moved it a bit more and, still, nothing. He then told me that he was going to check one more place and, if he still couldn't find anything, I would go in for an ultrasound to check again. As I stared at the painted ceiling tile, I started saying a little prayer to God and Jesus, asking for a heartbeat to be found. Asking for the baby to still be healthy. I'm surprised I was still able to keep my emotions under control. The doctor checked a little higher than he expected the baby to be at this point.

A heartbeat! A strong, healthy, fast (doctor said it was about 160) heartbeat! Indescribable joy filled my heart. My baby still has a heartbeat and a good one!

When I got in the car, a song was just starting to play and all of those tears I held back, during the fears and then the joys, spilled over.

*sigh*

It's hard to explain the last post without sounding like a heartless wench. A few things have happened so close together this weekend.

Let me start this by saying, I AM happy for everyone involved. It's just me. I am the broken one.

 I've even tried explain my feelings to the Timmy, but he says "it's been long enough". I "should be over it". It's not like I've been "oppressed". It makes me think that I really am the broken one. I should (always) be over it. Many people in the world DO have it worse than I do. But I still feel like this, and this weekend didn't help.

I saw a pregnant acquaintance Sunday that I've been avoiding and forced myself to make conversation. Sure, I could have avoided more or not even make conversation, but that's not who I want to be. She hasn't done anything to me and I genuinely want to be happy and excited for her. I am, but still. It hurts to see that when they weren't even trying.

But that wasn't the hardest part of my weekend.

I wrote a letter to someone in September. She has hurt me. She has said mean things to me. She has rubbed my face in what that letter was about, even after our loss. This was a big weekend for her, for them. And I am so happy that everything worked out for them and things went extremely well. I truly am. But, now I know for a fact, in a month, I'll be forced to see them and be around them and fake being happy, all while shattering inside. Again, T doesn't understand. He just doesn't understand and doesn't want to even try.

But that's not the hardest part of the weekend.

You long time readers know that I was in my friend's wedding in Florida the same weekend as our miscarriage. This is the same friend mentioned here and here. Well, she just got her wedding pictures back. They are now posted on facebook and the picture of me entering the ceremony, the morning after our night in the ER, learning we were more than likely having a miscarriage if it hadn't already happened at that point, well, that picture is tagged. Now I have to see a picture of myself during one of the hardest times in my life when I log on to facebook. The only way for me to untag myself is to go directly to the picture to do it and I just can't. I can't even look at the pictures from that weekend without bursting out in tears. I don't want to be like that about the wedding pictures of one of my best friend's happiest day. It's not her fault that it was also the saddest day of my life (so far).

That was the hardest part.

So all of this, plus remembering and knowing that I should be freaking huge by now because of a baby (and not because of food). If this is how hard it is right now, July will more than likely be unimaginably horrible. :(

So like I said before, prayers and good thoughts sent my way are (always) welcome.


*Positive things coming to this blog next*



UPDATE: Facebook officially deactivated. I just can't do it. Esp. after the husband just posted a status about one of the things I posted about above while at work! He doesn't even reply to important things I have to say and ask him while he's at work or ask me how I'm feeling if I'm feeling horrendously while he is there. But he can somehow post that. and it's not even a child that is related to him! He didn't even do that when his OWN NIECE was born, yet he posted about this baby while he is AT WORK. He even knew how upset I have been about this from the beginning. Whatever. Facebook is gone. For how long? I don't know. Contact me on here or through email (harper.elisabeth(at)gmail(dot)com) if you need me. In person or through phone also works.

Power of prayers

Strong little Daisy Merrick and her family

Daisy from Reality on Vimeo.