A mother is born.

Throughout my life I’ve struggled with believing that I’m a woman of worth.

I’ve often felt inferior to other women.

I saw myself as a weak woman who was mediocre at best.

I was never smart enough, strong enough, pretty enough or feminine enough.

I have definitely been my toughest critic.

In an almost mystical way, the woman I see when I look in the mirror now seems to be just as she should be.

This seems to come from the most empowering experience I’ve ever had;

pregnancy and motherhood.

Throughout my pregnancy I witnessed my body do all the necessary actions to give life to another human.

I labored for hours on end to bring forth this new life and found strength I never knew I had in the process.

Now as mother, I witness my body once again provide for this child.

I have a new appreciation for my body and my spirit.

I have a new confidence in my womanhood.

When I lost the triplets last year, not only did I mourn the loss of their lives but I also lost some sense of my womanhood.

I think of my triplets often.

I think of them when I look at Emery’s sweet face.

I think of them when I hear Emery’s cry.

I wonder about them often.

Though they were very very young when we lost them, I still feel like I’ve known them for years.

However, I feel like I have finally found pieces of my womanhood that were stolen away from me when I lost my triplets.

I believe I found true empowerment.

True confidence.

I no longer feel the need to judge my body, because I’ve seen and experienced its abilities.

These abilities are sacred and beautiful beyond comparison.

I have gained confidence in my natural abilities to be a mother.

I thought I would be a nervous wreck when it came to taking care of a newborn, but I’m actually at peace.

Someone I trust myself.

Motherhood has made me feel stronger, sexier, capable.

Motherhood has also revealed the love of my Creator and my God in a way I’ve never seen.

I have never prayed this often.

I have never been so thankful.

I have never felt such a need to trust God.

I have never trusted God this much.

Knowing the love I have for my child and love God has for my child has shown me that I am loved just as much as my child is.

This is empowering.

I would have never guessed the journey to motherhood would have this effect.

I am thankful that I was given the opportunity to experience the magic of pregnancy.

And I am thankful that I am now experiencing the empowering role of Mother.

The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new.

Thank you, Creator of life, for entrusting this little girl to me and allowing me to experience the holiness of becoming a Mother. 

My birthing story

I believe the process of pregnancy is the most challenging, beautiful thing I have ever experienced.

Because of this, I would like to share the story of my daughters final entry into the world through her birth.

When I first discovered I was pregnant, I began to read and research all my options as a mother.

Birthing options were of high importance to me.

I wanted to birth at home, but unfortunately our insurance wouldn't cover a home birth.

I then found a small group of midwives who birthed with their patients at a local hospital. 

The hospital worked closely with the midwives and their patients to create a space ideal for natural birthing.

And this became my plan.

No induction, no medication, no interference, just my body doing what it knows how.

At 20 weeks pregnant we had to change our plans a bit.

We found out our child has a 2 vessel umbilical cord as opposed to a 3 vessel cord.

This meant that labor might be harder on our baby than most and therefore we were not going to be allowed to go past the 41 week mark. 

41 weeks came and no sign of baby.

We opted for a non-medicated way to induce called the foley bulb. This way I could labor at home as well.

The foley bulb didn't work.

We then opted to try a gentler medication to entice baby to leave the womb.

For this one I had to be admitted to the hospital and hooked up to monitors.

This medication only took a couple of hours to get things started, so we called our Doula and told her we think it's time.

However, after 11 hours of early labor I had not dilated or effaced. 

Although I was hooked up to the monitors, I was still able to stand, use a birthing ball, squat, etc through the contractions. I spent most of my labor on the birthing ball or standing and swaying my hips with each contraction.

The midwife then made the call that for the best interest of baby we need to start pitosin.

They started little bits of pitosin every half hour, and every half hour my contractions would get more intense and closer together. 

For the next 25 hours the pitosin was used to keep my labor going.

I was handling everything well and really enjoying the process.

My contractions were really intense, lasting for minute and about a minute apart, so my midwife checked to see if I was dilated more. I was only at 4.
So more pitocin flowed through my veins.

Once again, things began to get more intense.

It seemed like we were in this phase forever.

My midwife checked me again.

After hours of active labor, I was dilated to a 5. 

The midwife then broke my water.

And then I knew I entered "labor land".

Contractions were now 1 1/2 minutes long and 30 seconds apart. 

I continued to use the birthing ball, birthing stool, leaning on Ben all in hope that these positions would make baby come faster.

Somehow, I don't remember how, I ended up on the bed, laying on my side gripping the side rails of the bed so hard for each contraction.

I had to search deep in my soul to get through each contraction. 

I was shocked at the sounds that came from me, but those noises helped me cope with the pain as much as I could.

After about an hour or two of contractions this strong, the  midwife asked me if I felt the  need to push.

She kept asking me this and I kept saying, no.

The contractions were showing that we were at the end of labor, so my midwife checked me once again.

I was stuck at 5 cm.

When I heard that I was only at 5 cm, I begged Ben to get me some kind of pain medication.

He kept saying, "you can do it", just like I told him to tell me if I started begging.

The midwife then pulled Ben to the side and told him what she thought was best at that moment.

Apparently my baby's head was titled slightly towards one hip and therefore not putting enough pressure on the cervix to dilate.

This also explains the intense back labor I experienced through some of the labor.

The midwife said that we can continue to try this naturally, but from her experience that would increase our chances of needing a Cesarean.  Or we can try an epidural and see if relieving the pain will make me loosen up and start to dilate more.

We did the epidural.

They also began more pitosin.

Immediately I felt relieved. So Ben and my doula went to get food, my midwife left for a couple of hours and I tried to sleep.

However, about 30 minutes after the epidural went in I started to feel painful contractions again.

I also really felt the need to push.

I paged a nurse since I was alone in the room and when she came in she checked me and said I was only at 7 cm so I needed to avoid the desire to push.

That was so hard to do. The pain kept increasing so I told the nurse that I don't think the epidural is working.

They then tried giving me a stronger dose and it still didn't work.

Finally my midwife came back and the decision was made that we would have to retry the epidural.

In the process of doing a new epidural, we discovered that the hose from the from the first one was kinked.

Just my luck.

At this point I also noticed I was losing a lot of blood so I asked my midwife about it.

She said it's not typical to loose this much blood, but it's not a threat yet either, we just need to keep an eye on it.

After the epidural kicked in I slept for about an hour or two and my midwife came back in to check.

Finally she said the sweet words I was waiting to hear.

10 cm.

Time to push.

Throughout the pushing process, I began to feel the contractions again.

Apparently epidurals are not strong enough for my body.

Rather then them telling me when to push, I told them when it was time.

There were a few times when my babies heart rate went down substantially.

I then heard the nurse ask my midwife if she needed to get hold of the doctor who does Cesarean.

My midwife thought about it and said that this child is low enough that we can do this.

So they gave me some oxygen to help keep the babies heart rate up.

I felt each contraction and each push became more and more painful and relieving at the same time.

After 20 minutes of pushing, my darling daughter was finally born.

The midwife and nurse had a small session of worry as I continued to bleed unnecessarily after delivery.

When things were finally calm, I began to feel blissful.

I was so proud to have accomplished what I did but still disappointed that things hadn't gone has gently as I planned.

After delivery I began to deal with these emotions toward my labor experience.

I am still reliving the whole process and amazed that I experienced it.

Despite my best efforts, I wasn't able to labor and deliver naturally.

However, I did labor for 23 hours without pain medication and I did bring a beautiful new life into the world.

So that's mine and Emery's story.

A few days ago I was saying that I don't want to get pregnant again because of this experience.

But today, as I continue to bond with my daughter and our story, I can say that I look forward to attempting a natural labor the next time around and despite the outcome, I will be proud of myself. 

Birthsong

I heard something beautiful today.

Father Scott, as he smeared perfumed oil on my forehead in the name of anointing and divine influence, 

told me a tail of tradition in East Africa regarding the birth of a child.

When a woman in East Africa is contemplating becoming pregnant,

she will go off in solitude, often times finding a tree as refuge and she will sit, listen and wait.

The woman is waiting for a song to come her, a song that will be her child's.

She may hear the sounds of nature around her, she may hear her own heartbeat and breathing or she may experience rhythms, melodies and words arousing in her mind. 

What she is waiting for and listening for is a song that will uniquely belong to her child. Her child's birthsong. 

Once she has this song, she takes it to her husband.

She sings the song to her husband and they make love. 

Her husband now knows the song.

Once the woman is indeed pregnant she will teach the song to her Midwives.

Now, this woman, her husband and the Midwives know this child's birthsong.

Finally, during the birth of this child and as this child is entering the world, the Midwives will sing the song to the new little babe.

This child comes into the world hearing her own unique song that was crafted for her.

This child grows up knowing her own song.

So much beauty is wrapped in this story.

The mother begins to listen for the uniqueness that is her child before this child is even in the womb.

Although I have not written a song for my children, I have certainly thought of them and I believe I have experienced bits and pieces of them before they were in my womb. 

And imagine being this child.

Your song is learned by many before you even enter the world through birth.

You have your own melody, your own rhythm and your own words as you enter the world.

You grow up knowing this song that is uniquely yours.

Beautiful.

What if we offered all of our children their own 'birthsong'.

We made them aware of their influence on those around them.

We made them aware of their uniqueness.

We made them aware of their importance in the world, because no one else has their birthsong and this song was crafted specifically for them.

I have been attempting to find ways to do this as we prepare for the birth of our firstborn. 

I pray that the wonderful triune God continually guides me in this journey.

And may I remember that I too have a unique birthsong. 

November

For about two months now I've tried several times to sit down and write a blog that perfectly captures the stage of life I'm in right now. I've finally given up on that goal and decided to just let words fall out. We are now 33 weeks along in this pregnancy and a sense of anticipation and excitement is making abode deep in my spirit. We are preparing ourselves, our house, our dog and our community the best we can for the arrival of this child. However, both Ben and I know that no one is prepared for the wonderfulness this child is bringing into the world. This process has brought much with it. It's been painful at times, but mostly a it's been a mysterious beauty that has decorated every detail of our everyday lives. This process has brought us redemption. Witnessing our child grow from the size of a lima bean to a healthy, kicking and hiccuping baby has been the greatest miracle we have ever experienced. After we lost the triplets, we knew we wanted to get pregnant again, but this time we were not going to plan it out or aim for pregnancy. The moment we let go on of control, we became pregnant. We really took something from that experience. This pregnancy became even more redemptive when we discovered that although we were only carrying one baby, there were aspects about this pregnancy that were uncommon in singleton babies but common in multiples. With all of this also came this little ones due date -- November 11th. It was November 1, 2010 that we found out we lost our triplets. The rest of the month was miserable. Going through the physical and spiritual turmoil of a miscarriage destroyed the way I felt about autumn time and specifically the month of November. I remember thinking that November would never end. I am now learning to take a new look at this season and November. Sometimes Ben and I talk about how amazing it would be if we gave birth to this little one on November 1st -- a year after we lost our first babies. I guess we are getting closer to see if this actually happens!
It's been a long, challenging journey into motherhood. This journey has already shook me up and encouraged me to see life differently than I ever have. I don't think I would be able to describe exactly how this has happened but I can say that life is no longer a big picture to me. It's little things. The moments, the scents, the conversations that take place in one day are all I focus on at a time. Relationships with those around me, my community, my marriage, my family and friends, my dog have all become increasingly more important to me. Politics and debates have become more obnoxious to me. Slandering and divisive comments about people make me ache for more of Jesus. As I become engulfed in the most powerful love I have ever known, the love of a mother for her child, the more hate and unnecessary divides I see around me. And as this little one's birthday approaches, the more I feel the presence of God surrounded me and reminding me of what really makes life important. I cannot believe how close we are to meeting this little sweetheart. I am excited for the continuation of this pregnancy process -- for labor, delivery and finally looking the purest, sweetest image of God in the eyes. World, get ready, because of how much this baby has changed my life and the life of those in my mishpacha, I know this baby is bound to spread this love and joy to all corners of the world.

I got you babe.

For 22 weeks now I have been housing a growing infant.

Each day, week and month brings something new with it.

This past month contains the memory of the first time I felt this baby move.

And now, this child is constantly dancing in my womb.

It's astonishing.

I am grateful for all that I am experiencing with this pregnancy and this transition into motherhood.

I wouldn't trade it for anything.

However, there are times I feel I am being cheated.

At our 20 week ultrasound we were told that our baby had a 2 vessel umbilical cord as opposed to the normal 3 vessel umbilical cord. 

This happens in about 1% of pregnancies.

It can be can a sign of growth issues or anomalies.

Although everything with our child's organs and growth seemed perfect at 20 weeks, we now have to go in for ultrasounds throughout the pregnancy to make sure everything is progressing healthily.

If you research more about 2 vessel cords, it will come up with lots of negative possibilities.

Increased risk of pre-term labor, stillbirth, heart issues and low birth weight.

However, I am throwing all those negative possibilities out the window and enjoying this baby every day that I can. 

Our midwife is certain that this baby is fine, sometimes this 2 vessel cord thing just happens and perfectly happy, healthy baby is born.

No matter what, I am head over heels for this child already.

It just becomes challenging to see so many others experience healthy and normal, but it seems in most areas of my life, I experience the most absurd and abstract things.

I am learning to see this as beautiful as opposed to a nuisance.

And I am learning that there are so many things in life that plans don't need to be made for.

I have seen women who get pregnant, carelessly eat and drink things that could harm the baby, never take prenatal vitamins, do drugs, drink and do all the things a pregnant woman shouldn't -- and yet they carry their baby to term and deliver a healthy baby.

And I have seen women (and been one of them) who pays extra close attention to her health and well being during pregnancy and do all that she can to benefit her child, and yet she loses this baby she has already been mothering. 

At times this makes me angry, but most of all it makes me realize how little control we have over life.

And although I would never encourage such carelessness during pregnancy, I would encourage relaxing more and enjoying each moment as they come.

So this is my new focus as I "prepare" for motherhood.

To stop trying to be so prepared.

Motherhood happens naturally.

Life takes course and we can only alter little things here and there.

We are not directing the ship, we are just on it.

I'm not going to pretend to be some "adult" who has life figured out.

I am a child of God who needs to trust more and stop planning every detail of my life.

Therefore, I will take risks and allow life to surprise me.

I trust that there is nothing that I will experience that will be too much for me and my family and friends to take on together.

If my dear child is born with serious health concerns, I'm glad that it's to a family like mine and not a family that would abandon or mistreat or see this life as any less worthy.

Mother Teresa has said that God never gives us more than we can handle. 

So if it is indeed God giving me this challenge, I will take it on. 

I have enough love, joy and patience to be a superb mother to any child.

So here's to you, my wee one continually doing jigs inside your little home--

We love you uncontrollably and no matter what, full health or some struggles, we got your back.

Lonely Soldier

Tomorrow is my 16 week prenatal appointment.

And for the past few nights I have been unable to truly rest.

This has happened before each prenatal appointment during this pregnancy.

On Monday night I woke every hour starting at 4:00 am, convinced that it was Wednesday and I needed to get up and get ready for my appointment.

Last night, my sleep was haunted with dreams of receiving horrible news about the baby I am carrying.

Throughout the day I am able to be very positive, but when my mind drifts to sleep my fears become vivid.

It doesn't seem right to me.

I feel like I'm fighting these fears and thoughts, but I often am the only one on the front lines.

Not that other's have not experienced this. 

And not that my fellow family and friends haven't mourned and feared with me.

But it seems that why others are planning ahead for this baby, I am overcome with the possibility of something going terribly wrong.

I am letting this fear suffocate my hope and excitement. 

I don't think I have the ability to structure words to describe my love for this baby and the babies I previously lost.

I am also not sure I know how to explain the titter totter I'm on as I walk through this pregnancy.

I was thrilled to discover I was once again pregnant.

Thrilled to see my baby move around inside it's current home and to hear the soothing rhythm of it's heartbeat.

But at the same time, I was plagued with fear and regret.

I was afraid I would once again mourn a most tremendous loss.

And I began to regret that I was not able to travel this far down the road with the triplets.

My mind often drifts to them.

I try to understand why they couldn't be with me now.

Why couldn't I see hear their heartbeats, but I can hear this child's?

Trust me, I am in no way ungrateful for this pregnancy.

I am thrilled and anxious.

But I can't stop this great experience to make me remember a former one that had it's own beauty disguised in pain.

I love my three musketeers.

And I love this little one.

I suppose that this is just not the way I expected pregnancy to be. 

Regardless, I  am trying to soak it up.

 I know that God has destined me for motherhood.

I am confident that I have 3 wonderful, beautiful children waiting for me in the other place.

And I am learning to be confident that this child I am now carrying will leave it's first footprints in the soil of the Earth.

This is unlike any journey I have ever taken.

I thank God for allowing me to grow as I continue to trek down this trail.

I thank God for finding unique little ways to prepare me for this child.

I thank God that my husband is with me on this journey and I am so thankful that God has gifted him to be an incomparable father. 

And I pray that God continues to give me strength, hope and resilience as life ticks on for me and my growing family.  

The dry season

I have been meaning to write for awhile but I've struggled with how to effectively communicate this season I am  currently experiencing.

However, I came across this picture which seems to capture the place where I am.

I feel as if I am stuck in a dry place.

Yet this place is meant to be overflowing, but somehow it's empty.

I could chose to leave such a dry place, but I don't.

Instead I wait and I hope.

I love that the man in this photo is holding an umbrella.

It's like he's saying, "yeah, it's a dry place right now, but wait for the floods".

This is right where I am.

The place I am in is seemingly empty and without life, 

but give it time. 

I hold onto hope knowing that the place I am will once again be overflowing.

Since the miscarriage I have felt this way.

I still am hopeful to experience a healthy pregnancy, but I bring that hope from a place that is dry and lifeless.

This "dry" season has made me realize how much I am past dweller.

I am not much of a future thinker.

I enjoy remembering.

This makes mourning an exceptionally long process for me.

While I've been in this season I have mourned the loss of my three babes.

I have mourned the loss of my own childhood, because of my transition into adulthood.

I have mourned the way life once was, before I knew the pain of losing loved ones.

I am missing being a child and the memories that taunt me so sweetly.

I am missing my first summer of marriage. The sweetest summer I have ever known.

None of this is to say that I am unhappy with my life now.

I am still creating beautiful, wonderful memories with my husband, family and friends everyday.

But they haven't become memories yet, so I can't seem to romanticize them as much as I do memories of old.

My love for memories is one of things that makes me most excited to raise children.

I look forward to creating memories for my children.

I am thankful for the memories my family created with me.

And I dedicate my journey from the dry season to the overflowing one to you and all that I associate with you -- Kansas, thunderstorms, corn on the cob, gardens, goats and horses, chocolate covered pretzels and pumpkin seeds, the Grand Ole Opry, chopping wood, cucumber salad, fishing, ice cream dates with grandpa, breakfast with the g-parents and fireworks over Rocky Pond. 

Do not avert your eyes

When I came across this picture I had to stop and take a good  look. I really thought this was a picture of me as a little girl with one of the Yorkshire Terriers my mom used to breed when I was just wee little one! This young girl even dresses in a similar fashion that I did as a little girl. And I did have my favorite umbrella I would take with me in rain and shine. I just love this picture of a little girl with her dog, so I wanted to share it.

Spring is close. I am anticipating it and even more so I am anticipating summer. The only fear I have for this summer is the month of June. June 1st was my due date. Of course, this date was set before we realized I was pregnant with triplets, so I would probably would have had the triplets way sooner! However, the month of June took on a whole new feeling and meaning when the Midwife told me that was the month I would give birth. Along with the transition into summer comes more days, months and seasons from the time when the triplets were alive. I hate the way time never stops. But I know I have learned from my pain and I am ready for the next seasons. Pregnancy is still so scary to me, but I hope a season of childbearing is not too far in the distance. And with the next seasons I am going to use my experience to give to others. I have signed up to be a photographer for the organization "Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep." This organization is a collection of photographers who volunteer at local hospitals to take pictures for families who experience stillbirth. Although I did not experience stillbirth, I can easily imagine the pain they feel. I know how much I would love to have images of my triplets to look at everyday, but unfortunately they were too young to be photographed. However, I believe that if I experienced a stillbirth, I would want images to remember the face of my little one.
When I talk to some people about this organization, they respond with "I cannot imagine that experience" or "I wouldn't want to see that and have to take those pictures". But I completely disagree. Anyone can imagine that pain, that's what imagination is for. Often it's not that we can't imagine, it's that we don't want to imagine. It's too uncomfortable.
I took the following quote from a blog that has sincerely guided me through my grief, and I would like to end this blog with it.

Real love gets into the trenches of grief and suffering. It imagines. It lets it’s mind’s eye linger. Real love will not avert its eyes. It won’t say, “Your disaster is too much for me.”

Puppies are like babies

This little guy has been a bright bright light in my darkest moments.

Although I have never experienced having a child with me and the responsibility that comes with it, I have a good idea of what feelings come when this responsibility takes over your life.

Puppies are like babies, in that way.

This little guy depends on you to feed him, tell him where to sleep, train him wrong from right, play with him,

cuddle with him, show him love and watch him grow and become independent.

I am already consumed with worry and pride.

I worry about his health, strength and well-being all day, especially when I'm not around.

I fill with pride when I take him to the dog park and he is the best behaved puppy there. He's the most gorgeous puppy I have ever seen. I am so proud of how he did at the Vet, how he plays with other pets and people, how he is being housebroken seemingly easy and how he is always at my feet. 

As I wait to experience a full-term pregnancy and deliver a baby into this world, 

this little guy keeps me more than occupied.

I have always believed in the goodness of all creatures.

This little pup is showing me the love of Jesus unlike anything I've experienced.

I am glad this pup, Zero, is now a part of our family and will be around to welcome home little human babies someday in the future. 

Thank you Zero, for being mama's boy and letting me love you. 

Just a change of time

Once again, music has a way.

It's mystical but frequent.

This song makes my sorrow seem a little less heavy.

I lost my babies, but it's just a change of time.

I will see them at a different time, that's all.

It's just a change of time.

I will have children with me here on Earth.

It's just a change of time.

Time is fickle and meaningless.

Plans are out the window.

Because these things will happen in time. Not the time I planned, but these things will come to life.

Just a change of time.

Day by day, that's how I am living now. I do not know when or if I will get pregnant again. I don't know what my plans for work are when and if I deliver a baby. I do not know what I will name my children, I just want to see and hear their heartbeat first.

Time.

Oh how I've learned patience.

Just a change of time.

That gives me hope.

Thank you, Josh Ritter, for so wonderfully writing what I feel.

He seems to put my chaotic emotions into poetry.

And to my three musketeers - It's just a change of time. We will all be together.

The fullness of eternal life

Yesterday Ben & I went on the normal routine to check our mail.

We got some tax information, credit card offers and one envelope from St. Anthony's Central Hospital.

Both of our hearts dropped when we saw the envelope.

Just seeing the name of the place that we received our prenatal care brought back memories.

Fear was also present as we opened the envelope, it might another bill from the d&c or it might be information regarding my health.

Shockingly, it was none of the above.

It was as follows:

We invite you, your family, and friends to join with others in a shared memorial service to celebrate the life of Baby Edwards'

and others who have been called to the fullness of eternal life.

Thursday, February 17

7:00 pm

Chapel (First Floor)

Immediately tears swelled in my eyes and I saw sadness slowly control my husbands face.

Although we had done our own memorial for our babies,

 we still cannot turn down this offer to share with others the pain of losing little ones.

So we will be there, rehashing our pain a bit, which helps us not forget our three musketeers.

So if you are around and would like to be a  part of this, you are more than welcome to join.

After I read this invitation, I went back to our cozy little apartment and began to write a few things and this is all I could seem to write about:

Everyday I wonder.

I wonder what their faces look like.

I wonder about their laughs, cries and coos.

I wonder about the sparkle in their eyes.

I wonder what games they are playing together in their beautiful world.

I wonder if they are best friends.

I wonder if they ever feel my love from this lonely planet.

I wonder if Jesus has given them names for me and if they are the names that appear in my dreams.

I wonder how old they will be when we are all reunited.

I wonder what their hugs & kisses will feel like.

I wonder so often about you.

I miss you three with every moment of every day.

I cannot wait to end this wondering and finally hold you all in my arms and say your names with my very own breath and hear you respond with "I love you mom."

Josh Ritter - "Girl In The War"

As my body returns to a healthy post-miscarriage state,

I begin to fear.

The time for my body to attempt pregnancy again draws closer.

I have never known pregnancy past 3 months.

It's a challenge to imagine I ever could.

What is even more challenging for me, is to watch my husband helplessly plead with God.

To watch him not have control.

To see him as he waits and hopes and fears, along with me.

I grew up the oldest sibling in a rather large family that lived suffering experience from suffering experience.

I was always the one to take on the pain of those around me and give my all to protect them.

During my miscarriage, it was awful to know that my husband was in a place I hate to be in.

He had to watch as I experience excruciating pain and demolished womanhood.

When I hear this song I think about the position he is in.

Praying and hoping my body recovers and my spirit regains strength.

Knowing that with healthy pregnancy or miscarriage, the responsibility to respond accurately rests solely on my body.

I am thankful that my husband stood with me through every pain and every emotion of our last pregnancy.

I cannot imagine how difficult it was for him to feel helpless, although he wasn't.

We are in this war together.

I needed him each step of the way. And I need him as we enter into a new, frightening and hopeful season.

My dearest Benjamin, you are my super hero. You are a phenomenal husband and exceptional father.

Our three musketeers can attest to that.

letting the world expose your colors

Humanity hides.
Compared to the plant kingdom, the animal kingdom and the galaxies that surround us,
humanity is dull and colorless.
It seems that woven into the DNA of plants, animals and stars is the inability to hide.
There is an undeniable need to awe.
A desire to speckle the earth with beauty, color, mystery.
Birds will show their colors with confidence.
Plants will stain the cold grown with their warm colors.
The sun scatters light in mystical ways, unashamed.
Why do we, as humans, not follow these examples.
We are afraid to let the world see us.
We are afraid to decline the norm.
Why are we afraid to let the world be awed by us.
By our beauty, by our strength.
Each plant, even  within it's own species of plant, is a unique shade, a unique shape of petals,
but it doesn't stop them from decorating the earth.
I am learning how to be human from these non-human creations.
My beauty is my own.
My strength is my own.
And all that I am shines through when I am surrounded by darkness and coldness.
So why hide the darkness and the coldness.
Why prevent ourselves from being exposed to the world.
Why be so fearful of letting others see us in our most painful moments.
It's an inspiration to see a plant push it's way through concrete or snow.
I am inspired.
So, take a look world.
I have known darkness, emptiness, fruitlessness and coldness.
But here I am.
Look, and be in awe.
For I am human, woman to be exact and I am not easily trampled on.
May the rest of humanity catch on to the examples being shown around us.