The Light Is Coming

In the days leading up to the first due date empty of any hopeful expectation, I was quite honestly, not doing well. The whole week prior to August 12th I'd often be crying or fighting back tears with very little provoking. I was reading the book Love Lives Here by Maria Goff, just crying when she'd be talking about her family. I sent my brother an e-mail communicating a decision I knew he wouldn't like, and I tearfully hit send and then cried some more. I don't even want to know what Adam was thinking all week long.

Then August 12th came and went, and it was far more gentle than the days leading up to it. So, I assumed the heaviness of the week was just me needing to get over this hump.

And I did see improvements, but something was still lingering.   

I'm doing a Bible Study on Philippians focused on unshakeable joy. I've been looking at the life of Paul and all of his struggles and his posture and heart attitude about all of it. And I keep wondering what's wrong with me. Something has seemed so off. There has been no sweet nearness to the Lord in this season of surrender and sorrow. I've had to cling to Truth and try to train my mind to believe it because I certainly wasn't feeling it. I've worked to have certain triggers in my days be reminders to turn towards God and be grateful. And in all of this, I'm knowing James 4:8 that says, "Draw near to God and He will draw near to you." And thinking, "Ok! PLEASE draw near, God." I've said to numerous people, the thought of wasting all of this loss is so unsettling. 

I was reading Steven Curtis Chapman's book Between Heaven And the Real World. I got to the part where he loses his daughter in a horrific accident, which of course, I sobbed through. I cannot fathom their loss nor the circumstances around it. He shares about several people mentioning a full blown attack from the enemy on their family. And something inside of me broke. 

For literally the first time since June 11th when I lost our second baby, the thought crossed my mind that maybe the enemy was at work in all of this. And I wept. 

The confusion, the doubts, the wondering if our family would ever grow again, the loneliness, the exhaustion, could there be more going on than meets the eye? Have I been struggling and not even considered the spiritual battle going on? Something clicked.

I'm not saying Satan took the lives of my babies. I am saying the mess and turmoil that's been going on in and around me since then has LIES written all over it. 

And I've had to repent for being complicit with the lies of the enemy. For believing things about God and His ways that are not true. And in a small way, a little fight came back in me. There's been new hope that is weak but there. It's not that all of a sudden I think things will drastically change for my family, but I do have fresh resolve to not let the enemy get victory that's not his.

As this lightbulb moment that I do believe the Holy Spirit allowed me to have has been good, there are still moments of sneaky grief that catch me off guard. And the response for me right now has to be this- gratitude, gratitude, gratitude. I've been given far more than I could ever deserve, and I bow my tear streaked face in gratitude. 

An author I love wrote about this scripture that is now on a 3x5 card in my Bible. "I will give you treasures of darkness and hidden riches of secret places, that you may know that I, the Lord, who call you by your name, am the God of Israel." Isaiah 45:3 

Treasures of darkness. That's a treasure most people don't want, as you can't see it while it's still dark. But it's there. 

And I have to believe the Light is coming, and I will see those treasures! 



  

Sweet Baby

My Sweet Baby,

It's your due date! I can only assume you would NOT have arrived today because neither of your brothers came on theirs. But this morning I pictured what it would be like to see a tiny version of you for the first time, and it made my heart ache in a way I can't even begin to express. I imagined your little self wrapped up snug in a hospital blanket with just your face visible, and I wished with all I had that I knew what your soft cheeks felt like. Perfect, I'm sure.

When I first told your Daddy that I had a baby growing in my tummy, he was immediately over the moon thrilled. Once we knew you were there, there literally wasn't even a second that you weren't wanted. Not even a second. Immediately we made space for you in our hearts and pictured you in our family. Sweet baby, we loved you from the beginning. 

I'm so sad we won't be meeting here on Earth. I don't even know what it will be like to meet in Heaven. I'm thankful that you'll never ache for me like I ache for you. You've never lacked one single thing. You've only known perfection. You have no concept of what it's like to be missing you. And I love that for you. But I can't help but wonder what that moment will be like when I see you for the first time. I like to think that I'm going to know it the moment I lay eyes on you. 

Being a mom, it's so weird to realize that you've done so much more for me than I ever got to do for you. Typically the balance is tipped so heavily the other direction. But not with you. I only had a few weeks to care for you. But you've brought me to the feet of Jesus over and over and over. You've made me really look at who God is and who His word says He is. You've opened my eyes to see people hurting around me. Baby, God used you to change me. And He's not done yet. This Mama still has a long ways to go, but you'll forever be a part of my story. Our story. You are the catalyst for a greater dependence on the Lord. What a gift! 

I still don't understand why God gave you to us for such a short time, and I'm confident I never will. And that's okay. I do know this- I'm so thankful God did write you into our story. And I'm thankful that's He's trustworthy in all of our sadness and disappointment as we aren't holding you in our arms. 

I love you, my sweet baby. 
I always will.

Love,
Your Mama

To 5 Year Old Nolan

Oh Nolan,

You're five, little boy. You hold up a whole hand when people ask you how old you are, and I'm just not sure how I feel about it. Watching you get older just toys with my heart. While I love seeing you grow and own who you are as a bigger boy, I ache knowing that these little years have slipped by. Time can be such a trickster. 

This past year held a little bit of magic that I hope I treasure forever. I watched you welcome and love Sammy in a way that even Mommy struggled to do at times. You truly loved him and cared for him in a selfless way that I wanted to emulate. You often considered him more important than yourself, and your pursuit of him would not be hindered despite his struggle to connect with others. Nolan, it was unbelievable. I'll never forget your heart for Sammy. I can only hope it extends to the next kiddo that enters our home.

You still have an enthusiasm for life that is unparalleled. You are exuberant and energetic in all things. You take delight in life's simplest joys, and I absolutely adore that about you. 

On several occasions, you were my biggest cheerleader, and it dissolved my heart into a puddle every time. I took on a few baking jobs this spring that nearly sent me over the edge. You genuinely and whole heartedly believed in me and cheered me on. I won't forget putting you to bed, knowing I still had to conquer another dozen cake pops, and you wrapped your arms around my neck and said, "You got it, Mommy! I know you can do it!" I literally cried. And you celebrated my job completed the next morning. Buddy, you are the best!

This year we certainly had our fair share of butting heads. Honestly, kid, your inclination to argue can make my head hurt. But I've tried and tried to tell myself that this can all be for good one day. I sure do hope you argue for what is right and just in your future. I hope you stand up for Truth and defend the weak. Because oh my word, you can wear a person down. 

I love you, Nolan. I feel like I've failed you so many times, yet you love me regardless. You've extended forgiveness when I didn't deserve it, and I'm grateful. Watching you transition into a big kid will probably keep me on an emotional rollercoaster. And I've mostly accepted that.

Buddy, I love you. I like you. I enjoy you. And I'm proud of you. 
Always.

Love,
Mommy

He's a Whole Hand

Nolan turned 5. And he's pretty excited about it. When he came downstairs the morning of his birthday, he was literally running laps around the house, 100% convinced that he was faster. Honestly, I was kind of convinced, too.

This kid went to school for the first time. He went two days a week, and that was just right for him. He thoroughly enjoyed going to school, but every single time we picked him up, he wanted to know what went on at home without him. He had his best buddy in his class, and that made for a very, very fun year. It was neat to watch him grow in confidence and be genuinely excited for what his day of preschool would hold.

He also played on his first soccer team, and HE LOVED IT! He played with the biggest smile and the most enthusiasm. When he scored, he'd look around for people to be cheering for him. Adam helped coach the team, and Nolan would run up to him for high fives every single time. It was so fun to watch him do something he loves.

Nolan got promoted to big brother of two for most of the last year. He took in Sammy as his own brother from day one. It was truly remarkable, and one of the most memorable parts about our first foster placement. Nolan has been quite the hospitable little boy for the past couple of years, but it got taken to a whole different level with Sammy boy. It was amazing to watch. 

Nolan's love for sports is growing, and his dad is thrilled. He loves watching football and basketball, and he got to experience his first Braves game. He loved it! He loves shooting hoops, kicking the soccer ball, hitting off the tee, and being a receiver when we play football (calls himself Julio Jones). The kid just loves sports!

We're starting to see some growth in Nolan's fears and anxieties. It's been a good reminder to me that the issues that can seem so frustrating and consuming will not always define our kids. Nolan loved the characters at Disney, and it was literally a paralyzing fear for him previously. He loves the beach and runs with such wild glee, and he used to hate that, too. It's been a relief to see fear and anxiety loosen their grip on him. 

These are Nolan's people (Ezra not pictured). They are his first choice for every single thing. If we lived near the North Carolina Rodriguez family, he'd lose his mind. We pray for all of his cousins every.single.night. When we are about to do something fun, he often says, "I wish Ryann and Alee were coming!" They are the best.

Nolan is turning into a big boy, and I seriously cannot even let myself think about it. This will be the final year that Nolan doesn't go to school Monday-Friday. He's doing one more year of preschool before kindergarten. And I'm hoping we can cherish our bonus year before full blown elementary school starts. 

Some noteworthy conversations that I want to remember.

Isaac: I wish I was a panther (the actual animal).
Me: Well, God made you a human.
Nolan: Isaac, if you pray and ask God to make you a panther, He can. God can do anything.
Me: (thinking to myself, "How do I explain that while God is capable of turning a human into a panther, this is not something God has a history of doing.")
Isaac: I'm going to ask.
Me: (teachable moment lost)

Nolan: When we die will we come back to life like Jesus?
Me: [pauses] Well, when we die, no. If you have a relationship with Jesus and have asked God to forgive your sins, you'll go to heaven.
Nolan: I don't have a relationship with Jesus.
I fumble my way through the Gospel at his level.
Nolan: So, is Julio Jones going to die? 

Nolan from the other room: Every time I make a bad choice, I'm going to thank God that Jesus died on the cross as my punishment. 
Me: stunned silence

This kid. He can argue with a brick wall one minute and be telling me I'm the best mom in the whole world the next. I sure do love him! 

But Even If Not

For the second time this year, I'm approaching a date on my calendar with a little black circle in the upper left corner signaling to me I could start breathing easy. And for the second time, that little black circle reminds me that life is precious and fragile and beyond my control. I'm not approaching this date with sweet relief like I hoped and prayed; instead, I'm approaching this date with a daily fight to have my hope in the One who holds this life together. 

Today, I had my final blood draw to do one last set of tests, and my doctor met with me to discuss what it could look like to move forward. As I waited in the room for the doctor to enter, I could a hear a Mama in the room next door getting her ultrasound. That swoosh, swoosh, swoosh was so loud, and I whispered out loud, "Savor it." I fought to get control of my emotions, as I was determined to not cry this time, I repeated the verse that has become just second nature to pray, "But I will hope continually and praise you yet more and more. My mouth will tell of your righteous acts, of your deeds of salvation all the day, for their number is past my knowledge." Psalm 71:14-15

Adam and I have processed this loss much differently from each other this time around, and it's required an intentional effort to be gracious with each other as we deal with what happened and look to what's next. Since Sammy left, our plan was to re-open our home to another foster placement at the end of summer if we weren't expecting a baby. We now face that reality. Knowing that at this point, we have no plans to try to grow our family with another biological child, we are left trusting God to grow our family as He sees fit. Our hearts are for fostering, and even if another Tomberlin had arrived in August or February, our plan was always to re-open our home at some point. 

But I now know that fostering is H A R D. It's hard and slow and long work. As previously stated, it's worthwhile work. We also know that this does not guarantee us more permanent members in our family. And in the last month, I've had to work ( WORK ) to accept that the picture I had for my family may not ever come to fruition. While people try to assure me that if we are willing to take in children, surely God will give us more, it doesn't really give me any sort of reassurance. Adam has said the number of kids needing a family far outnumber the families willing to take them in. Which is probably true. But if this experience has taught me anything, it's that God's plans don't always line up with ours. 

But even if God doesn't bring us more kids, can I be fully satisfied in Him and live with joy in light of my salvation?

I've read the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego many times, but I've read it again recently. They stand before King Nebuchadnezzar refusing to bow down before his idol, and he makes it clear they are headed for the furnace. They quickly answer with confidence that their God is capable of delivering them from this furnace and from his hand, but they say even if He does not, they will not bow down, remaining steadfast in their devotion and worship to God alone.

I, too, know what my God is capable of, but even if He does not, I will not waiver in my devotion and worship of Him. And sometimes I can say that with confidence. And sometimes I'm asking the Holy Spirit to strengthen my inner being to be confident in that. I've been reading a lot of books on the character of God, and I am sure of this- my God is a good God, and His love for me has not wavered as I've struggled to accept this latest blow. 

God can grow our family, but even if not, my heart is His. My life is His. And I will continue to hope and praise Him yet more and more. My mouth will tell of His righteous acts. For their number is beyond my knowledge. 

Gratitude Rushes In

There's a part of my brain telling me right now, "It's too soon to write anything!" But I'm still a little stunned, and I'm hoping this might help. 

Memorial Day weekend Adam and I found out I was pregnant again. It was a somber realization. I basically collapsed into his arms at a positive pregnancy test, took a deep breath, and sighed. There was no celebratory moment; Adam didn't talk to the baby in my belly like he has the other 3 times we found out I was pregnant. There was a gratitude for new life, but also, a very real understanding that this certainly did not mean we'd be holding a baby in our arms come February. 

Unlike the last pregnancy, I had no initial fears about this. It's probably due to what God did in my heart after the last one. I was nervous as any woman is with a pregnancy after loss, but my eyes were mostly on the Prize. The prize being Jesus, not a baby. Each night I got in bed, I thanked God for one more day carrying our baby. There was very little talk between Adam and I about the baby. He would ask how I was feeling. We'd discuss certain foods I was avoiding (lunch meat, excessive caffeine, etc). But no out loud dreaming of this little one. 

I stayed in a place of mostly thanking God that His ways are better than mine regardless of what happened, but I did at times beg and plead for a healthy baby. Confident that God's Word tells us to ask, I definitely asked. But I also asked for every part of our story to be used for His glory, whatever that looked like. 

Everything unraveled with the force of a wrecking ball on Monday. The loss happened so quickly, I wasn't processing it fast enough. I sat at my in-laws table for dinner knowing that life in my womb was ending. And I just sat there. I knew in the few hours before that it was likely I would lose the baby, but based off my experience in December, I assumed it would be slow. But I was wrong. 

Monday morning I woke up with a little bit of nervousness but mostly thinking we were fine. I went to bed a little shell shocked. Because of routine, I felt like I was supposed to be thanking God for something, but I had nothing coming out. Just tears. 

Because of the nature of how it all happened, the doctor wanted me to come in to be seen Tuesday morning. Adam was able to come with me, and the pain of an OB office while in the middle of a miscarriage is hard to explain. I had no bitterness towards the other women with life clearly growing inside of them. It was just reminder after reminder of what was not in my future. 

We quickly learned that I would need an ultrasound, and I sobbed into Adam's arms. It all feels so harsh but to have an ultrasound felt like too much. Because the doctor also needed to do a pelvic exam, Adam left the room, but he didn't know to come back in when she started the ultrasound. 

No whooshing sound signaling a heartbeat, just silence. No light flickering on the screen. Just an empty grey and white screen. While the doctor was relieved to see it empty (meaning no D&C was necessary), I wept. I stared up at the ceiling, unable to look at the screen for even a second longer. I didn't need any more evidence that I was not pregnant, no life was growing.

Because these miscarriages happened back to back, there's cause for concern. The doctor wants to do a 4 week series of blood work to try to get some answers. But answers or not, Adam and I feel like it's time to close the door. Of course, we changed our minds once. It could happen again. But with two healthy pregnancies and two lost pregnancies, things no longer look promising. 

Yesterday afternoon and evening, I felt retrospective gratitude. I'm now extremely grateful (in a different way) that I have Nolan and Isaac. I went and got pizza and popsicles. We had some dancing after dinner. It was basically a little party to celebrate the lives we do have. When they asked if they could watch Peter Pan, "Sure!" Because I can say yes to you guys, I'm going to (not every time, obviously). 

One of the hardest parts is surrendering the future of our family. We thought it would look like 5 or 6 kids. But right now we are thankful for the two we have. God can grow our family how He wishes. And the reality is, God could be done growing our family just the way it is. The thought that I'm just two years away from no longer having "littles" in our home is a little tough on my heart. 

Last night as I snuggled Nolan in bed, I told him that I loved being his mama. He replied, "I love being your Nolan." I held him a little tighter. I had a quick thought of the babies I'd never get to hold but dismissed it. Because I had Nolan right in front of me, a gift I wanted to cherish and savor in that moment. 

I know these boys will drive me crazy, but I hope every time I read this I'll remember. I'll remember to choose to look at them as gifts and tangible grace that I get to love and hold. 

"But I will hope continually and will praise you yet more and more. My mouth will tell of your righteous acts, of your deeds of salvation all the day, for their number is pasty my knowledge." Psalm 71:14-15

Crazy Little Thing Called Grief

Our family got to go to Disney at the beginning of the month with Adam's parents and one of his sisters. It was a truly delightful time, and the boys had so much fun. They talk about Disney one way or another every single day. This was our second trip to Disney with the Tomberlins. Each time we've gone my mother-in-law takes us into a cute little Christmas shop at the Magic Kingdom to pick out an ornament or two (or three this time around). It's very sweet, and I can imagine the boys will be even more excited to put on our Disney ornaments this year. [As in, I'm sure they'll fight about it] 

As I perused the shop, I found the ornament I wanted that would always remind me of this year's trip. At my mother-in-law's prodding, I looked for another ornament. And I spotted this one.

And I cannot explain why, but I got choked up, feeling the loss of the baby I won't hold this summer. There was something about seeing these three little bears that made me aware that I'm always going to be one bear short. Adam's mom and sister asked me why I wanted this ornament, and I said that I felt like it was a picture of my life for a while, referring to Sammy, not the baby I was thinking of. Because those three little boys really were like these three bear cubs from the movie Brave. But in my heart, I was pondering a different little one. 

This incident happened the Thursday before Mother's Day, so I probably should've anticipated a little heaviness with Mother's Day. But I didn't. Not that there's anything I could've done about it, but despite repeatedly coaching myself to be so thankful for the healthy children I have, my mind kept wondering to the one I don't have growing and rolling around in my belly right now. I typically feel almost embarrassed that I still get upset about this miscarriage, especially in light of so much sadness and heaviness around me. Thankfully, going through this has made me so much more sensitive and aware of others who have experienced loss or long to be Mamas. And I reached out to a couple of them to let them know I was praying for them and knew Mother's Day was probably very complicated for them. 

I think the layering of a miscarriage and Sammy's departure maybe intensified each other. Sometimes the sadness still comes out of nowhere, and I guess that's just grief. I'm assuming next Mother's Day won't sting like this year's did. We might have different chaos in the house with a different foster child that will heavily distract me. But I'm glad I went ahead and got the ornament. Even if this year it reminds me that I've got a bear missing.