Let It Be So

I have officially announced my pregnancy which is exciting and scary for a lot of reasons, but I wanted to share my pregnancy story, because when the Lord provides a miracle, the world needs to know.

When I was a little girl and grown-ups would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up my answer was the same, and it stayed the same: “A mom”. Even when I had graduated from college and was interviewing with Hospice, when asked what my life goals were, my response was, “I want to get married and have a family”.

When Patrick and I got married, I knew that he wasn't ready to have kids yet, and I assumed that like my mom and sister, I would be pretty fertile. So I went on birth control. I stayed on BC until March 2013 when Patrick decided that he was ready to start trying. I was so excited and started  making baby plans, but of course it did not happen quickly like I thought it would. After a few months I knew that something was wrong, I wasn't cycling like I should be, but by this time I had stopped working and didn't have insurance so I was hesitant to start spending money on fertility treatments. So we kept praying, kept trying, kept being disappointed. For awhile we stopped trying, we needed a break and I needed some time to go before the Lord and ask if I would be stepping on His toes to seek some help. I didn't get permission for this right away, but when I felt a peace about it, I spoke to the PA that works at my Dads office, who is a very Godly woman, and who just happened to have completed her internship with an OB/GYN office. She understood that we simply did not have money to spend on a lot of testing and blood work but she spoke to her former boss and it was suggested that I try Clomid, which is a medicine that makes you ovulate. We started the Clomid in May 2014, and we decided that we would try it for 6 cycles and if it didn't work, we would be done trying and just accept  it. In a nutshell this was my experience with Clomid:

Cycle 1-Did not ovulate

Cycle 2-Ovulated but did not get pregnant

Cycle 3-ovulated, got a positive pregnancy test but lost the baby at 4 weeks 2 days

Cycle 4-ovulated, got a positive pregnancy test but lost the baby at 4 weeks 4 days

After 2 losses I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue with the Clomid, obviously my body wasn't able to maintain a pregnancy and I didn't want to keep putting babies in there just for my body to reject them.

On Monday, October 20^th (the same day my baby niece was born), I spoke on the phone with my sister-in-law Jennifer. I am so blessed that Patrick’s sister and I are so much alike, we have bonded over our desire for natural living, homeschooling, and many other things. I told Jenn about feeling so discouraged and that I wasn't sure what to do anymore. Jenn asked me if she could ask her friend Beth to pray for us. Beth is a close friend of Jenn’s and belongs to the Catholic Church where they have what is called The Novena Prayer. Jenn said that Beth is a strong prayer warrior and it seems that whatever she prays for gets a “yes” from the Lord. We joked that if I got pregnant we may have to convert to Catholicism :)

The next day I got an email from Jenn who was forwarding me an email from Beth, who had written a beautiful prayer and suggested that I ask close friends and family to join us in praying this prayer for the next 9 days, starting October 23^rd.

I ovulated on October 25^th.

10 days later I took a pregnancy test.

It was positive.

2 days later I started cramping.

I called the midwife’s office and basically said “I think I’m getting ready to have my 3^rd miscarriage in a row, I need to make an appointment to figure out what is wrong with me”. The lady that made the appointment said “We are going to think positive and I’m going to schedule you for your first ultrasound”. I thought “yeah right”.

One of the problems with having miscarriages is that when you get pregnant, and you tell your family, you don’t get to announce it in a “Guess what?!! WE’RE PREGNANT!!!” sort of way. You say it quietly with fear in your voice, “I’m pregnant, but you know……just pray”. It’s kind of sad really.

BUT, then you get to say “we made it past week 4!”, and then “6 weeks and I feel like I’m going to puke, and my boobs are sore, and I have heartburn that keeps me up all night, yay!”.

We went to the doctors at 6 weeks and 3 days, and the lady apologized for having to do an internal ultrasound. I said “M’am you can stick that thing wherever you want as long as I get to see that my baby is okay”.

The picture popped up, and it was the most beautiful little white spot that I have ever seen.

“Is my baby ok?”

“Baby looks good, measuring right on schedule. I’m not sure if we will be able to hear the heart beat……”

“Bump, bump, bump…….” 

Oh that sound…….its like the sweetest song you will ever listen to. Our baby was alive! Patrick and I were overcome. Until that moment, Patrick had been hesitant to talk about the baby, he knew that every passing day I was getting more attached which meant I would be more devastated if we lost it. But after that moment, of seeing and hearing it, its like we still knew that we may not get to raise this little one, but we would love him/her as hard as we could for as long as could.

Precious.

Today we are 9 weeks and 3 days along, I’m still nauseous a lot and my jeans are getting harder and harder to button, and we are so thankful for all these signs that there is life inside of me growing and changing everyday.

Now I know that it is still early, and that the Lord may not have plans for this baby beyond a short time in my womb, and it is tempting to separate myself and not let my thoughts wonder to things like:Is is a boy or girl? Who will it look like? Will it be crawling next Christmas or will we have one more year with no broken ornaments? Even the scary thoughts like: Will it struggle with anxiety? Is there anything I can do to prevent that?

 But no.

This baby deserves all of me. I am his/her Mommy, and I will love, and cherish, and sacrifice, every moment that this little one is with me.

Sweet Baby, your Daddy will teach you not to be afraid and your Mommy will teach you to pray when you are. 

I don’t know if I will be a good Mom. I have had 31 years all to myself. I enjoy having time alone, sitting and reading  a book, watching a movie, the ability to jump in the car and go somewhere quickly, long conversations with my husband. I worry that I am too selfish now, that it has been too long and I will be impatient and easily frustrated with this little person who will surely turn my peaceful world upside down. But I’m using this time to allow the Lord to change me. Already, this baby has wreaked havoc on life. I don’t feel good, most of the time, I haven’t cooked for my husband in weeks, I can’t get the laundry done or clean the house all in one day because I am sooooooo tired. All. The. Time. But in those moments when I am trying to sit as still as  possible so as not to throw up, I remind myself that this is a sacrifice that I must make for my child. I must learn to sacrifice.  I must.

Oh Jesus, let this pregnancy change me.

I want to share the Novena prayer with you, it is beautifully written and so specific in the requests. I asked several people to join us and even though I really didn't have faith that the Lord would be moved by a group of His people praying, they did. They believed for me and it was powerful for those 9 days, knowing that there were friends and family standing in the gap and asking that the Lord grant this request. I do not deserve such devotion and commitment, but I am so so thankful for it.

 Read this prayer slowly and let it wash over you and know that the Lord answered with a mighty “Yes My Child, let it be so”

O God, Creator of all mankind and of all things, you have given us life out of the abundance of your love. Have mercy on us and hear our prayer.

Son of God, Redeemer of all mankind, you poured your life out for the world because of your love for man. Have mercy on us and hear our prayer.

Holy Spirit, Wisdom of God, you warm our cold hearts and breathe life into our souls deadened by sin. Have mercy on us and hear our prayer.

Holy Trinity, please hear our prayer. Through the love of Patrick and Karen, please grant to them the life of a child. May you bless Karen with the mystery of pregnancy, the strength and tenderness of maternity, the sweetness of infancy, the wonder of childhood, and the happiness of godly maturity. Grant, also, that they may receive all graces necessary to assist their child on his path to eternal joy in heaven.

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name.

Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread,

and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.

Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

We love you and we trust in you, and we offer our prayers to you in the powerful name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

My perspective of the accidental home birth

First of all, let me just say that my sister is the queen of looooooong labors. With all 3 of the other kids, we spent days timing contractions, walking, watching movies, just waiting for labor to increase and go to the hospital. It was because of this history, that when Jenn told me Monday morning that she had been contracting through the night, that I thought, "Ok good, the baby will be born sometime this week".  And again when she called me at 4:15 and said the contractions were 5 minutes apart and getting a little stronger, I still did not give it much thought. When she called me at 8:30 and said the contractions were 3-4 minutes apart and getting more intense, I figured we may have a baby the next day, and advised her to sit in the bathtub for awhile and try to get some sleep.

Now, admittedly, I was having a hard time with the fact that my sister was about to deliver her 4th baby, while I have been trying to get pregnant for a year a half and still have no babies, so if I analyzed myself I might think that maybe I wasn't ready to deal with it yet, and therefore was in denial that my sister actually was moving along rather quickly with this labor. Any how, when Jeremy called me at 9:30 and said "we gotta go, her water just broke", I finally got my tail in gear and threw on some clothes and headed out the door. Thank goodness that Patrick was home and was able to drive me to the Allen house. On the way there, I get a call from my Dad, who I can tell is trying to stay calm, but it went something like this, "She is in transition, she just threw up, she won't let me call 911, WHERE ARE YOU?!" A couple of minutes later, Patrick's pager went off and we hear them dispatch a "Pregnancy/childbirth" to my sister's address and "Dr. Veatch is on the scene". Now, my Dad is a great doctor, I can't tell you how many people have told me over the years how much they love him, but when it comes to one of his kids, he might as well have no medical experience because he just about cannot handle it, probably because he knows all of the "could happens", but it was probably more helpful that Esmond was on scene, then Dr. Veatch. :) A few minutes later Dad calls me yelling "we have a head!" (they didn't have a head) and that was when Patrick sped up to 105 mph. Whew!

After what felt like the longest ride of my life, we finally pull in the drive way and I go running in, to find my Dad, and brother in law pacing the floor, along with Esmond who looks totally confused. Eowyn and Gideon were asleep thank goodness. Jenn was on the floor in her bedroom, propped up against the bed, my mom was sitting next to her, and one look told me were going to have this baby very soon. I told Dad to find me something to suction the baby with in case she arrived before the paramedics. Just as she was crowning, the paramedics arrived and chaos ensued. We had a slight clash of the wills as they came bursting into the room, turning on the over head lights and yelling back and forth to each other. Rightfully so, they came in treating this like an emergency situation, but Mom, Jenn and I did not think of it as an emergency, we were simply birthing a baby. It took a few minutes but they realized that we were not panicking and they calmed down a little. As the baby is making her way into the world, the paramedics start talking about taking the baby as soon as she is out in order to check her out and my mom said "I'm just letting you know, if you want to make it out of this room alive, you will not try to walk away with that baby. You are dealing with a Mama bear here".  I don't think they quite knew what to do with us. :) Baby Noemi finally made it all the way out and into her Mama's arms. She was a little blue and not crying right away, but we rubbed her, and Jenn talked to her and she finally gasped and made a little noise.  One of the paramedics asked if he could take the baby so they could get Jenn onto the stretcher, but she just looked at him and handed the baby to me.

I had been dreading the moment when Jenn asked me if I wanted to hold her because I knew that it would be painful and to look into the face of this tiny baby and it would just be a reminder of what I had never experienced before. But when she was all of a sudden thrust into my arms and I wasn't holding her to admire her or coo at her, but to protect her and keep her warm, it was a healing moment for me. The last 9 months have been difficult, watching Jenn's belly grow while mine stayed empty, and with the other babies, my hands were constantly on her belly, wanting to feel them kick and wanting them to hear my voice, but with this baby, I kind of separated myself from her because it was too painful. So to have this intimate moment with this little creature still covered in after birth and meconium, I imagine was ordained by the Lord. It was very special. Anyway, we got Jenn on the stretcher and out into the den where Esmond got to meet his sister, and somebody woke Eowyn and Gideon up so they came out still half asleep and looking totally confused. After all, when they went to bed, their mom was still walking around with a baby in her belly, and then they wake up to a house full of people, mom on a stretcher, and Tia (that's what they call me) holding the baby. I carried Noemi out to the waiting ambulance and kept her close until Jenn was situated and could take her. I didn't realize that I was shaking until I stepped out of the ambulance and into Patrick's arms.
What a night! The women in our family have this running joke that we are like a herd of elephants, because, when a baby is born to a mama elephant, the other females in the herd are just as protective of that baby as the mama is, and we are like that with our babies. Mom and I were definitely in true elephant form that night as we surrounded Jenn to protect her so that she could focus on what she was doing, and then were fierce in our determination that Noemi stay close to her Mama at all times. I have since been over twice to visit at the Allen house and now I can't believe that I ever had thoughts of not wanting to get to close to that baby, because I love her so much already, she is so tiny and feisty. She has this head full of beautiful bronze colored hair and it sticks out in all different directions :) When I hold her, I don't think about the baby that I don't have, I focus on the baby that is in front of me, one that I can love, snuggle, and spoil just like I do with the other kids. It was the most amazing experience and now I'm ready to do another home birth, who's up for it?! :)

A Jumbled Mess

I haven’t blogged in a while, mostly because my thoughts have been a jumbled mess and even as I write this, I’m not sure how it’s going to turn out. The past few months have been……..challenging. I started back on anxiety meds in May and am feeling better, although not “normal”.  Deep down I knew that God wouldn't let the meds work completely because then I would miss whatever He is trying to teach me.  I admit when I started taking the meds my attitude was, “Well if you aren't going to heal me then I’ll get better by myself”. Probably not the smartest thing to say to the God of the universe.

But I digress.

This post is not about my anxiety, there is nothing new to say about it, it’s there, it’s not going away, I’m dealing with it one day at a time. This post is about how I am coping in a time where God is being very quiet. There is a song called “Say Something (I’m giving up on you)”, it’s a secular song but Worship Mob did a cover of it and turned it into a cry to God and then added a verse with God’s response. I listen to it a lot because so often I find myself crying out “Say something, or I’m giving up on you!” I know that I never will, because I am His child, I belong to Him, there is no giving up on that, but still, like a frustrated child, I want His attention. I want Him to fix me. I want Him to give me a baby. But He doesn't. He remains silent.

I read  a blog post recently by Natasha Metzler about preparing for the times when God is silent. Natasha says that if during the happy times we are keeping Him in front of us, then when He is silent, we will be able to cling to what we learned in the happy times. She says, "Prepare yourself, friend. Prepare your heart for the silence of God. For there are many things that could never grow if not for dormant winters, on earth and in our hearts". I didn't prepare very well for this. I wasn't expecting another long wait.

There is really no way to describe the emotional roller coaster that a couple struggling with infertility goes through. Month after month, pregnancy announcements, Facebook pictures of new born babies, and your arms stay empty.

And then your sister announces she  is expecting # 4, and you don’t think you will survive it.

But you do.  I am.

It is easy to dwell on the pain in my life but I know that everyone has pain, nobody is immune, and nobody deserves to go through life without struggles. Least of all me.

My sister suffered multiple miscarriages between babies #2 and #3.

A close friend is halfway through her first pregnancy and was diagnosed with cancer.

Two other close friends have lost their Dads.

Everyone has pain. It is a part of this life. It makes heaven seem that much sweeter.

In the moments, where I feel overwhelmed with despair, I ask myself “Do you trust Him, or not?” I know that I cannot trust Him a little, or with only certain things. I must trust Him in everything, big and small. The greatest test of this came a few weeks ago, when I took a pregnancy test and there was a very faint pink line. I was in shock, and felt very hesitant to get excited. We left for the beach a couple of days later where my temperature confirmed it. Patrick was excited, but deep down I knew that I wouldn't get to keep this one. I could tell that my body was rejecting it and sure enough at the end of the week, it was over. I spent a lot of time sitting in front of the ocean praying that God would let me have this one, but then I heard the voice, “Do you trust me, or not?”.  My prayer turned to this: “Lord, I know that if You do ever give me babies, that I will have to trust You with their lives and I will start with this one”. The due date would have been on my birthday.

“God do you really know what you are doing, because that would have been a great birthday present”

“Do you trust me, or not?”

I’m not great at this, I fail. A lot. But I let the words of that song sink down into my soul, “Child I will never give up on you. Child I’m still running after you”.

I don’t have to chase Him, I just have to follow Him.

And for those that think I probably sit at home most of the time and cry, I want to assure you that this is not the case. I figured out a long time ago that if I let infertility be the center of my life, that my marriage would not survive it. So instead of pushing Patrick away and trying to face it on my own, we banded together. We are a team, going through this together and growing closer as we try to stumble through it gracefully. There is a lot of joy in our home, pretty much every day something makes us laugh so hard that our stomachs hurt. We play card games, have tickle fights, and at night I read while he watches an episode of “Deadliest Catch” and then we snuggle until we fall asleep. Then we separate because man, that guy is like a toaster oven! :)

As I thought it would be, this post is a jumbled mess, but, that is me most of the time, a big jumbled mess. I’m so glad that there is Someone who can make sense of it.

Below is the link to that song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xOODYAuf1AA

Sunday

Thank you to those who prayed for me on Sunday and have continued to pray for me this week. I wanted to share what exactly happened on Sunday since I asked you to join with my church family in praying over Patrick and me. During the church service, after Communion, Pastor Jay asked Patrick and I to come to the front where chairs had been placed for us to sit. I was so nervous, I almost felt like I wasn't going to be able to go through with it. I knew that this was Satan, trying to convince me to leave, which told me one thing. 

Something that he didn't want to happen was about to take place. 

As soon as Pastor Jay started speaking, my spirit calmed down and Patrick and I went to the front of the church. Pastor Jay also called Susan and Julia, two strong prayer warriors in our church family, and the Elders to the front. When Susan came and sat down next to me, I looked at her face, she placed a hand right over my heart, and I was struck with a feeling of.........rightness. I felt so strongly that Susan was the exact right person to be sitting next me, intervening for me. What is amazing about this is that a few weeks ago, Susan suffered a major heart and died 3 times before they were able to stabilize her. Ms. Susan is still on this earth for many many reasons, but on Sunday, I got the distinct feeling that one of them was because I needed her to fight for me.

Pastor Jay anointed Patrick and I both with oil and then prayed over us, as the the group laid hands on us. I don't remember the entire prayer but I do recall that Pastor Jay asked the Lord to take this fear and crush it like the shell of an egg and grind it into the ground. I have kept that mental image in my mind this week.

I wish that I could say there was a miraculous healing and I got up "walking and leaping and praising God", but God is not choosing to go about my healing that way. Pastor Jay made it clear that this was only the first step, and that my church family would stay by my side as I walk this road.

I am so so thankful for my church family, I know that those moments were so very significant. Anxiety is hard for people that don't struggle with it to understand but I felt so embraced with love and compassion.

Thank you. Thank you.

For now, I will continue to seek the Lord and ask only for my "daily bread". My prayer is just, "Lord please give me just what I need for this day".

"I cling to you, your strong right hand holds me securely" Psalm 63:8

Psalm 34:4

Listen to my prayer, O God.

Do not ignore my cry for help!

Please listen and answer me,

For I am overwhelmed by my troubles

My enemies shout at me,

Making loud and wicked threats.

They bring trouble on me

And angrily hunt me down.

My heart pounds in my chest.

The terror of death assaults me.

Fear and trembling overwhelm me,

And I can’t stop shaking. (Psalm 55:1-5)

This is very difficult to write, I really don’t know where to start so I will just dive in. If you have read my previous blog posts you know that I suffer with anxiety. This has been a struggle for almost 9 years.

I am so very tired.

I have made it through the last 9 years with the help of medication and little tricks that I taught myself to deal with difficult situations. But now I am tired. I’m tired of mentally making an escape route every time I walk into a store or restaurant. I’m tired of sitting in my car while the battle rages within me. “Can I do it? Yes. No. etc”. I’m tired of feeling like I’m just getting through life, instead of living abundantly. I believe my anxiety is one of the reasons for our infertility and I’m tired of being a childless mother. I am tired of being a prisoner. I am broken, mind, body and spirit.

Patrick and I met with our Pastor this week and his response was exactly what I hoped it would be. “We need to have the Elders of the church, along with the rest of the church family anoint you and pray over you”. Pastor Jay told me that I was being “oppressed” and that is not what God wants for me.

A deep breath.

A glimpse of freedom.

I know that there are so many things going on in this world, so many more important things then me. Which is maybe why it has taken me so long to ask (beg) for help. But I’m writing this to ask you, my friends and family to please join my church family this Sunday morning as they pray over Patrick and me, kneel before the Lord on my behalf and plead for healing. I do not deserve it. I will never pretend like I do, and He may not say yes to this request. But I’m so thankful that I have a church family that will stand up and ask.

“But I will call on God,

And the Lord will rescue me.

Morning, noon, and night

I cry out in my distress,

And the Lord hears my voice.

He ransoms me and keeps me safe

From the battle waged against me.” (Psalm 55:16-18)

Please Lord. Please.

My Valentine

When Patrick and I first starting dating there were many evenings spent sitting on my parent’s couch just staring at each other. It sounds cheesy and I don’t think it was because we were so hopelessly in love with each other, but more fascinated with each other, and with the idea that we had found each other and everything that goes along with finding the person you are going to spend the rest of your life with. At the time, we really didn’t know each other that well, but we just knew each other.  It is a pretty amazing thing that you can shake hands with a stranger and a year later vow to spend the rest of your life with them. No matter what.

When we were engaged people told us that the first year of marriage is one of the hardest, and maybe it was because I was prepared for that, but it was actually the easiest transition of my life. Being Patrick’s wife came very naturally to me, I found joy in the cooking, cleaning, laundry and even paying bills, because they were our bills.

It’s funny how the type of conversations change as a couple enters different phases of their relationship. When we were dating and engaged our conversations centered on the future, making plans, etc. Then you get married and the conversations change a little, focusing more on the present, such as what we need at the grocery store, and did anything good come in the mail. Patrick recently asked me if I knew what to do if the house caught on fire, my response was “stop, drop and roll?” With an exasperated sigh he proceeded to give me the correct protocol, break the window, feel the door…….some other stuff I can’t remember.

And then there are other conversations:

First the one with myself “Karen, just go in, what do you think is going to happen? You can leave if you need to, just go in!” And then a phone call to Patrick:

Me: Hey where are you?

P: Just got home where are you?

Me: I’m at Food Lion

P: You need me to come up there?

Me: Yes

P: Ok, I’ll be right there

And another day:

Me: What were you doing back there?

P: Just working on something, come see

Me: You put the crib together? (Then promptly bursting into tears, because that is what I do these days)

P: I’m sorry do you want me to take it down?

Me: No, it’s beautiful.

Every day, maybe not all day, but at least once every day my husband gives me a glimpse of Christ’s love for me. When I am feeling broken and like I have nothing to offer, he makes me feel not only valued, but priceless. When I tell myself that such a great man deserves a better wife, a wife who can give him children and who isn’t beaten with anxiety, my husband reassures me that he needs me just as much as I need him, and that God gave us to each other, not me to him, and not him to me. I am so very thankful for this gift that God hand-picked just for me. In my wildest dreams I could not have imagined that I would get to be married to someone like Patrick, he is so much more then I dared to ask God for.

It seemed appropriate on Valentine’s Day to write about my “good ole’ country boy” and what a great man he has become. He is strong and intentional in everything that he does. He holds my hand when I am anxious and when I am overcome with despair, and doubting that God will give us children, his faith is so great that he puts the crib together.

I feel so blessed to be his wife.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Love.