Peanut - A Gift

I'm not one of those girls who had their wedding planned before Mr. Right showed up and swept them off their feet.  I was a hopeless romantic who dreamed of the day I'd meet that man of my list.  List, you ask.  The one I made that included all things I wanted, and all things I didn't, in my husband.  I never dreamed of what I'd name my children or how many I had to have.  Of course, I wanted all this.  To marry Mr. Right and have children.

And in January of 2006, Mr. Right and I found out we were expecting our first bundle of joy.  The best two year anniversary present this girl could have asked for.  We scheduled our doctor visit, saw that sweet little life that was forming in my womb.  We nicknamed him/her Peanut.  The heartbeat...incredible.  In March, after having been on a business trip for several days, I returned home.  We went to our scheduled doctor visit only to find that there was no heartbeat.  After 3 days of blood tests and ultrasounds, my worst nightmare was confirmed.  We lost our little Peanut.

Devastated.

The gift was not only in the little life that stopped forming in my womb.  For days, weeks even, women surrounded me with cards, hugs and prayers.  They reached out to share their stories of loss and grief.  These were testimonies to the grace of God, who both gives life and takes life away.



 A gift.

I never thought I'd be able to handle something like that.  Losing an unborn child.  The greatest gift I received in it all was in drawing near to The Giver of life.  He taught me to trust Him even when it was difficult and I didn't understand. To lean in to His heart when all seemed to fall apart around me.   He has taught me how to turn every blessing He has given back to praise...even the hard ones.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=giw2KfOZf0k

For When Your Heart Breaks

The house was dark this morning.  Six fifteen was earlier than I had wanted to rise but the baby whined and wanted his pacy.  So I rolled out of bed, turning the baby monitor down so that only the neon green light flashed but no sound was heard.  Silently walked to the kitchen as dawn was breaking.  Little by little light began to flood through the windows and I reached over to turn on the coffee pot.  As I looked up and out the window that's directly above the kitchen sink, to my early morning surprise was a momma cow and her newborn baby calf.  Not that it is unusual to see cows and calves in the pasture around our house.  But I haven't seen a newborn calf that close to the fence since we've lived here.  As I watched out the window, the newborn calf tried desperately to stand on its wobbly little legs.  Taking a step here and there, it plopped to the ground again.  And I was ecstatic to show the boys this precious sight as they each rose and came sleepy eyed into the kitchen.

I was no less excited when we returned home from church this afternoon to find another calf was being delivered.  But something wasn't right.  The momma cow had been in hard labor for hours, not unusual, but her water had not broke.  The farmer came over to check her and had to deliver the stillborn calf almost losing the momma in the process.  It was like a train wreck and I was heartbroken over a baby calf.  I could not move my bare feet off the lawn and back into the house for nothing.

Now, I've given birth three times.  Beautiful, healthy babies.  And I know, very well, the pain involved.  Unlike some, I decided I'd just rather not have an epidural.  With each child the pain was different but no less intense.  With each child I've had the joy and privilege of bringing them home from the hospital, spending sleepless nights catering to their very basic needs, enjoying their first words and first steps and watching their very different personalities come through.

But I can't help but think about Peanut.  I've been pregnant four times.  The first ending in a miscarriage.  I was devastated. The longing of my heart was for a child and I walked away crushed.  When we saw that little tiny heart beating on the monitor I was shocked and thrilled.  And we called that sweet little life that was forming Peanut.  Feeling the pain, disappointment, hurt and humiliation was far greater than I even dared to imagine when we realized we had lost what was precious to us.  It was a train wreck that I couldn't escape. 

Maybe you've felt that pain of heart break or maybe you're on the outside and can't turn away but have no idea what to do or say.  Let me say from experience, the outpouring of love and encouragement from those around me both in word and deed was wonderfully overwhelming.   More therapeutic than anything has been the opportunity to share my story.  While the wounds may still be fresh, it is increasingly difficult to share.  However, the power of a testimony can make a difference in the life of another.  Share hope where someone else may need it most.