When You're Fifteen...

 Spencer, 

I don’t think that the 15th birthday is considered some monumental milestone, typically, but for some reason, in my heart, it feels like a major birthday somehow.  Perhaps, it’s because I know what you’ve been through all these years, and seeing you, a wise, caring, humorous, generous, and loving young man, feels like more than just a dream come true. 

I know YOU don’t always feel that way about yourself, but lucky for you, I’m here.

“Cause when you’re fifteen and somebody tells you you they love you, you’re gonna believe them…”

It’s a song lyric. While I know the song isn’t about parental love, as I powered on my iPad to write to you, as you drift off to sleep after an exhausting week, that lyric burst into my mind.  

I love you.

I hope you believe it.

The end of that song goes “But I’ve found time can heal most anything, and you just might find who you’re supposed to be. I didn’t know who I was supposed to be at fifteen.”

I pray that for you, my wonderful son. I believe there is absolute truth in those words.  

I didn’t know who I was at fifteen either.  I do now.

I am your mom.

I am your friend.

I am your safety.

I am your champion.

I am yours.

As you know, I dreamt of you forever. I hoped for you for decades.  I’ve told you more than once, and I will tell you again- you were the miraculous answer to my deepest prayers.

You’re everything I imagined, and so much more…

…and to see joy in your eyes brings me elation that I cannot describe.

Like tonight, when unexpectedly, you were given a gift I’m not sure you dared to dream for, and held your guitar in your hands.  When I handed it to you almost two weeks ago in the guitar shop, I just knew it had to be yours.  I knew I had to make it happen…

..and it did.  The guitar that is years older than you, but somehow was made specifically for you, is yours. And such beautiful moments happened shortly after, when you sat down with your uncle, your siblings, and your cousins, and musical memories formed, filling the room.  I watched you playing, singing along with them, with tears in my eyes.

I know it doesn’t probably feel like it yet, but right in front of me, I’m watching you find who you are. I love who you are.  Quite frankly, you’re one of my very favorite people on this planet.  

The teenage years are complex, no doubt, but I love the general, genuine ease of our relationship.  I love that we can laugh together, cry together, be quiet together, be noisy together… be…. together, and there is no conflict or strife, even on harder days.  It’s a God thing, no doubt.  

When you read this, you will officially be fifteen.   As you go about your days this year, I want you to know I’m still always praying for you- for healing your hurts, for increasing your joys.  I pray that you find deep, meaningful friendships, and people you can call your tribe.  I pray that your interests and passions expand and deepen. I pray that the music you create is rooted in your soul and brings fire to your spirit like it does when I hear you play.   I pray that your sense of humor never fades, and your smile only brightens.  I pray that you feel anchored in who you are and never feel lost in this crazy world.  I pray that you believe only the truth about who you are and not the lies that the enemy wants you to latch onto.

Thank you for the hugs, every day.  You know you hug me more than anyone else in the world, right?  I love it, more than you know.

Thank you for making fun of me and keeping me humble.

Thank you for all of these years.  

You are loved, more than you’ll ever know.

You are worthy.

I’m so glad you’re mine.

I love you.

Forever and ever, amen.

Mom

Let the words flow from my mind through my fingertips

I love to create.  I love photography, painting, coloring, crafting, crocheting, singing, wood burning, and so many other random ways of seeing something come into being by the work of my mind and my hands.

I love writing.  I love writing beautiful words in script, I love writing notes and letters, I love writing down my thoughts and sharing them with others when applicable.  I have kept a journal or a blog of some kind for most of my life. 

Last year, it was spoken over me that I would speak in front of people.  I saw that come to life shortly after, giving a portion of my testimony in front of the women’s group at church, and then by opening up Christmas Eve church a couple of months later.  But, as I’ve said to multiple people, I write more fluidly than I speak.

This year, it has been spoken over me that I would write more.  I haven’t been sure of how that would come to fruition, but I have seen myself writing more and more, whether it is comments in online Bible study and church services, social media posts, little notes, digital artwork, or blog posts, I have been slowly seeing more words flow from my mind through my fingertips.

It’s even been spoken over me that I should or will write a book some day.  Time will reveal that, I’m sure, although I cannot even begin to imagine what I would fill an entire book with.

This morning, I watched church from home once again, still recovering from the after effects of my second positive Covid test and infection at the end of September.  Today, our pastor and his wife, again, spoke over me in regard to releasing writing.  Then, to my surprise, the service was about creativity and how we are all crafters in our own ways.  We all bring things to life.

As I sat and listened and reflected on my own personality and my love of making things, often times to bless other people, I remembered the weekend prior to getting sick again.  

I attended a women’s conference at my friend’s church- the Enough Conference.  This year, it was focused on being equipped and empowered, and reflected quite a bit on the pandemic we are currently living through.  Multiple times, it was asked, “what are you afraid of, what’s holding you back?”  The premise is that we are all living through a scary, overwhelming, unknown time in our lives, but we are surviving and overcoming it all.  If we can get through these days, what is keeping us from our purposes?

I recall, that weekend, wondering what my purpose is.  What am I supposed to be bringing to this world right now?  If I was created for such a time as this, what am I supposed to contribute to this time?  

Those questions lasted a few days, until one night, I laid in my bed, and the words “empowered” and “equipped” kept circling around in my mind.

Years ago, I wrote poetry, frequently, in my bed, in the dark, with my pen on the paper and unable to see what my script looked like until morning. I would let it fly from my fingers without criticism until I refined it in the daylight.

That night, I pulled out my phone, and with very little editing involved, I let the words glide onto my screen. 

I love music, especially worship music.  I sometimes think of my own testimony as a worship song, although it’s not really put to an audible melody.  After I wrote these words, I thought of them as worship as well, although they too, lack an audible melody.  I haven’t been sure of what I am supposed to do with these words, so they’ve been sitting in secret for almost two months.  

This morning, I felt it was time to release them.  I wrote this as a reminder to myself on the days and nights I wonder, questions, and struggle.  I have spent many hours searching, and sometimes, I search for so long that I see right past the beautiful, simple, wholesome answers that God provides.

Perhaps you’re out there, much like I was, and have been multiple times, wondering what your purpose is in times such as these.  Perhaps, you wonder who you are inside.  Perhaps, you wonder what your value is in this world.  These words are for you, too.

Let me assure you, you have a purpose, you are a beautiful, treasured creation, and God has a plan for you.  There’s something only you can bring to this world.  You too, were created for such a time as this.  

I pray you know that you are cherished, important, and Loved.

 You tell me that I'm a masterpiece-

A wonderful creation, I am unique,

And I know in my heart it is true,

Because I put all of my trust in You.

But some days, I find myself confused.

I pray and wonder “what should be my use?”

I try to read between the lines

Of the words you write over my life.

I peel the layers off the canvas that you paint,

And inspect each imprint on this clay,

Just to see if I can figure out who I'm supposed to be.

But, when I'm finally still and breathing in 

Your Spirit floating like the wind,

And soak in the gentle melody 

you composed for only me,

I realize it's so simple, I don't need to keep searching.

I'm your beautiful, beloved one,

The sparkle in your fiery eyes,

The one you sent your son to guide 

Into your safe and steady arms.

I am chosen and I am equipped,

Empowered for this time I'm living in,

And nothing I can do will change 

The way you feel about

Who I am:

Fearfully, wonderfully, beautifully, carefully, joyfully, perfectly made.

I am your Love.

I will not live a life of fear,

Because the weapons that I need are here

Inside my heart, soul, spirit, and my mind.

The battle rages all around,

But with you the end of war is found.

Death has come knocking at my door.

I will not cower in its shadow anymore.

Your breath of life fills me to overflow...

When I'm finally still and breathing in

Your spirit, floating like the wind,

And soaking in the gentle melody

You composed for only me,

I remember...

I'm your beautiful, beloved one,

The sparkle in your fiery eyes

The one you sent your son to guide 

Into your safe and steady arms.

I am chosen and I am equipped,

Empowered for the time I'm living in,

And nothing I can do will change

The way you feel about me,

What you see when You gaze upon me,

The person I am called to be,

Who I really am-

I am your Love.

I am made to Love.

So, let me Love.

Acoustically...

Music has always been one of my passions. It's been a true love for as long as I can recall. 

I began singing when I was a toddler, and to this day, my life is (almost an unofficial) musical. Heck, my sister, the other day, said as she walked in the door and I was singing something random "your life really is a musical."

I asked for a guitar for a few years before my parents gave me one for Christmas in 2000. I taught myself to play. I was incredibly self-conscious about it (I still somewhat am) and would stop playing if I knew people were eavesdropping. I never became "that good," but can play a few songs decently well.

The majority of the time, if given a choice, I would prefer an acoustic version or cover of a song over the original. Acoustic music is my real soft-spot.

I am incredibly fortunate that my love of music entwined with the love of my life- Jake. Around the time that I got my first guitar, 40 minutes from my house was a teenage boy who also got his first guitar. I didn't know him at the time, but the coincidence, to this day, in timing, still amazes me. 

When we met, we both were still learning. We played guitar together and learned songs together. More often than not, he taught me, but I do recall teaching him a few, like "Wonderwall" by Oasis, and "Be Like That" by 3 Doors Down. We would sit in my room (usually) and play. We would sing. We would fall in love with music while falling in love with each other.

So many memories of our courtship revolve around our acoustic guitars. He learned to play my favorite songs to surprise me. He wrote me a song once and played it at open mic night as a surprise. I wrote him a song, and recorded a video of it and played it for him. 

I hear many songs on the radio, but instead of the famous radio versions, I hear Jake, singing alone, simply with the acoustic guitar. I fall in love with him every time, even if he's not near me.

Tonight, as I lay in bed trying to fall asleep, I heard an acoustic version of a song I had not heard before, by a cover artist both Jake and I have been find of for a while.  When the music stopped, and I was lying in the silent darkness, I was taken back to college...

I was actually visiting him for a weekend, and we were spending time at his (and his roommates') apartment, when he asked me to pack up the guitars.  He didn't explain, but I obliged his request, and he lead me to a part of the college campus I had never been to before. We headed to the racquetball courts.

And there, I experienced such a wonderful acoustic concert, as he lead me to the center of the court, then went and shut off the lights so it was completely blacked out. Rising through the dark silence was his guitar, as he slowly made his way around the court, playing and singing some of the songs he knew at the time (including Avril Lavigne's "I'm With You,") and the sounds just catapulted to the ceiling and enveloped the entire space. It was electrifying. When he had finished his set, he had me join, and together, we played and sang together, etching the memory into my heart and embedding it on my mind.

It's almost as if I can hear the residual echo tonight, as my eyes finally grow heavy. 

What a lullaby.

I may not play as often as I once did, but Jake still does. He plays frequently, and he plays very well. Both of our boys have fallen in love with the acoustic guitar concerts that have become a part of our life soundtrack. 

where the love spilled out they called it art

Have you ever found a CD that you fell totally, completely in love with?

I have.

And it was totally unexpected. Well, maybe not totally, but I wasn't expecting it. Maybe that is totally. Who knows. I'm tired, and done contemplating the phrase.

When I was a daycamp director for Shetek Lutheran Ministries in the summer of 2005, my friends (co-workers, what have you) and I were in Sioux City, IA shopping. While there, I came across a music/CD store, and was browsing the discount bin. The CD I found was Edwin McCain's "The Austin Sessions." I already owned two of his CDs and liked them, and thought the $4.99 sticker was quite a bargain, so I purchased it.

I would like to be able to report that I took it back to our host family's house and listened to it right away on my discman, but that'd be a lie.

It wasn't until almost a year later that I finally opened it and gave it a listen.

I remember the setting vividly. It was my college dorm room, spring of 2006. I was an RA that year and had a room to myself. Jake and I were engaged, and he was over visiting. At one point, we were going through my CDs to find some music to listen to, and there the CD was. So, we opened it. Then, I laid down in the middle of my floor and used my red body pillow to support my head. Jake joined me and we laid there listening to the CD in its entirety... more than once.

Immediately, I loved it.

It's a mostly acoustic set (I don't know if there's drums or piano, the CD is in my car currently) but it's mainly guitar, mandolin, possibly banjo (I could look it up, but like I said, I'm tired). I love acoustic music, so it's right up my style.

What I wasn't prepared for was to fall in love with each and every song. I don't know that it's honestly happened to me before this CD, nor after. I like most songs on most CDs I own, but I don't love them all.

Sure, some of the songs on the CD are somewhat dark or somber, but some are really upbeat and bright sounding. And they're all just amazing.

If I recall correctly, after researching the album a long time ago, most, if not all songs, are covers that McCain did of various other artist's music. But, not once had I heard any song before. I haven't looked any of them up since, either.

Sadly, when we moved, I lost my original CD, and it's really hard to find. Brand new on amazon.com, it's over $20. But, because I loved the CD so much, I had burned a copy for a friend or two years ago, and one of my darling friends re-burned me a copy to have at home again, because I've missed it so much.

Even Spencer likes some of the songs. He loves to dance to "Little Girls."

Jake loves the songs, too. His ambition is to learn to play them all.

I remember once, listening to the song "Romeo and Juliet" in Jake's... gold... car (I forget what kind of car it was) in the country late at night while we were driving home from somewhere. I was suddenly overcome with the realization that one day, we'll die, and how I really hope that it's together because I can't imagine either of us having to live without the other.

My favorite song on the CD, however, is called "No Choice." I will leave you with a link to a cover of it by some guy on youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09lpEpK8COg (because it's all I could find) and the lyrics. It's just downright beautiful.

It was a love so big that it filled his heart
Til it swelled and finally burst apart
And where the love spilled out they called it art
But he never really had no choice

Chorus
Whoa, he had no choice
No, he never had no choice
When he gave his river a voice
He never really had no choice.
He was thinking that the pain came much too soon
When he locked himself up inside his room
Well it hurt real bad to write that tune
but he never really had no choice
And there were some who could not understand
When he built those castles with his hands
And he knew damn well they were only sand
But he never really had no choice.

Chorus

Sometimes a man sometimes a boy
And he made some music and he made some noise
But he felt his pain and he felt his joy
But he never really had no choice.
There was a beautiful fire inside of him
As he balanced his way out on that limb
Could've burned right through that branch so thin
but he never really had no choice

(Chorus)

And they all talked about him when he died
They studied and they theorized
But when he was through they'd laughed and cried
And he never really had no choice
It was a love so big that it filled his heart
'Til it swelled and finally burst apart
Where the loved spilled out they called it art
But he never really had no choice

(Chorus)
(Chorus)

Take these six strings and make them sing.

When I was younger, I wanted a guitar. Badly. I think I asked for one at least four Christmases in a row, before my parents were ultimately amazing and gave me one my junior year (I think) of high school.

Why did I want a guitar? Well, when I was growing up, for Labor Day weekend, every year, we went to my parents' friend's farm, for two or three days, and at night, there was a guy, or two, or three, depending on the night and the year, who had his acoustic guitar and people would gather by the bonfire as he played and others sang along. Every year, he'd play "American Pie" by Don McLean, and every year, there'd be mass confusion as to the verses. (I will admit, I know them all and in order...)

It inspired me. I wanted to be like Mike (that's the main guitarist for the campfires of 'yore.. haha).

So, my parents gave me a guitar, and I took it upon myself to learn to play.

An embarassing tidbit: When I first picked up the lesson book, it told me something to the effect of "place your finger on a string next to the fret, but not touching it." My critical reading skills at the time were... lacking, and I placed my finger between the strings, next to the fret, not touchign them, and would get pretty frustrated when I'd try to pluck a string to get a really "pingy" yet airy noise... but don't worry, I figured it out shortly after.

Over the course of a few months, I taught myself to play guitar.

Fast forward. I met Jake. And he played guitar, too. *swoon*

Playing guitar, whether it'd be me alone, Jake alone and for me, or the two of us together, has been a very substantial part of our relationship (in fact, our first "official" date was at Falls Park with both of our guitars. We took pictures (and I can't find one anywhere to show you, go figure, but they do exist))...

...up until a year or two ago, when I nearly stopped playing altogether while I was pregnant with Spencer.

Yeah. I can't claim that I'm proud of that.

Last night (Sunday), Jake asked me if I would play guitar with him. I said yes, half heartedly, as I have been any time I agree to do so lately (which isn't often). Why halfheartedly? I wish I could pinpoint that and give a precise answer, but, I can't. I think it has something to do with the fact that I can't get my fingers to properly form a bar chord, or an F, or any variation of an F, or a B...

And, honestly, sometimes I get frustrated playing guitar with Jake, because, in my opinion, he is exponentially better at it than I am. Kind of how he would feel about having a mascara application party with me (not that we have ever done that, nor do I believe it would interest him at all...)- a bit inferior, possibly.

Whatever the underlying reason, I haven't been all that "into" playing guitar for quite some time.

But, because I wanted to spend quality time with Jake, and do something he would enjoy, I agreed.

The first half of our playing together was Jake trying to teach me songs that he knew, while I tried to figure out what chords he was playing by watching him, or he occasionally called them out to me. It was alright, but it wasn't the best time I'd ever had. Though, I will admit, any time Jake plays guitar, or I play guitar (I have a few times since SJ was born), it is the CUTEST and most wonderful thing to see Spencer dancing to the music, or "singing" as we play, or even... *gulp*... trying to HELP us play our guitars (and mind you, Spencer has FOUR of his own guitars). I get goosebumps and practically cry every single time.

While Jake was giving Spencer a bath, I pulled up to the computer, opened the "guitar chords" bookmark folder I had compiled before getting pregnant, and opened a few windows to display songs I used to be able to play from memory and have long since forgotten. Truth be told, if you were to ask me which songs I could play from memory now, I think it'd be... "Time of your Life" by Green Day, and "Wonderwall" by Oasis. Yeah, it's that bad.

But, wouldn't you know it, as soon as I saw the chords for "2a.m. (Breathe)" by Anna Nalick, I picked up right where I left off so many months ago, and belted the lyrics out, playing at my original pace, with my original strumming, like I hadn't missed a day playing that song.

Then, I played and belted out a little "One Sweet Love" by Sara Bareilles. Yup, that one was "good as ever," as well. Huh.

I played a few more while waiting for Jake, including learning a new one "Paperweight," by Schuyler Fisk and Joshua Radin, and after Jake put Spencer to bed, he joined me in front of the computer, and we took turns pulling out a song from the folder, playing it together, and singing. Just like old times.

And it was WONDERFUL. I kick myself for taking such a long break in playing with my husband, and for being such a poo about it when I would play.

Truly, the highlight of our "open mic night" in the kitchen, however (and I think he would probably agree) was when we pulled up "Poison and Wine" by the Civil Wars. I don't remember that we'd ever played it together. I know I book marked it when I first heard the song hoping to learn to play it and sing it with Jake (it's a beautiful duet), but I don't know for certain that we ever had before.

But, when Jake started strumming the rhythm, and I joined, and he sang, and I followed... and then we sang the harmony together... it was FANTASTIC. I am not saying we were the best performance anyone could have heard, and we might not have been even "good" in some opinions, but it felt PERFECT. It sounded symphonic, even without other instruments. I felt like we had stopped time and were holding onto an everlasting moment.

I enjoyed it so much, I asked Jake to do it again.

We played a few more songs, until my fingers felt like they might bleed, and my arm was only playing my "wussy version" of a Bm every time it came up in "When You Come Back Down" by Nickel Creek (Jake played everything, and I only strummed the Bm) and I laughed myself to silly tears.

I woke up this morning, though, still giddy about our concert together last night.

I hope I can hold onto that feeling, and get back in the groove of playing again. I wouldn't want to lose that something special that Jake and I have, after all.

Truth be told, an acoustic version of most any song nearly always ends up being my preferred style. Random tidbit for you.

And, here's a few more "guitar-related" significances from my friendship/courtship/marriage with Jake.
- the first time he ever came to my house, he played guitar, and I have pictures

- he learned to play my favorite song "Name" by the Goo Goo Dolls, and performed it when he randomly surprised me at my parents house

- he learned to play my other favorite song "Crash Into Me" and debuted that at the aforementioned Labor Day gathering in 2003 (I think) in front of a ton of people

- he once came to my parents house and played guitar under my window to serenade me (but I wasn't in my room and had actually run up to the post office and then stayed downstairs until I thought I left my radio on and realized he was in my backyard...)

- he and his best friend broke my first guitar wrestling, and so they chipped in and replaced it and gave it to me for a 4th of July present in... 2002 or 2003. I have it on video.

- our first "official" date

- I gave him a 12-string guitar for his 21st birthday

- we used to play guitar and sing in the racquetball courts at SMSU late at night

- he wrote me a song and performed it for me at open mic night on my 21st birthday

- I wrote him a song, and my friend got it on a webcam video

- and others... but my fingers are cramping.

(PS: I took the photos I included in this entry, so please, don't be taking them.)

It's So Hard.

The Dixie Chicks one recorded an amazing song, "So Hard." In a nutshell, two of the sisters wrote it in regard to their own personal life-experiences with infertility. I think it's amazing for two reasons, the first, that I feel I can relate to it on a personal level and I almost always get tears, and secondly, they helped bring public awareness to the infertility demon.

The song popped into my head a few days ago, after being "out of play" if you will, for quite some time. Specifically, the lines that read:

And sometimes I don't have the energy
To prove everybody wrong
And I try my best to be strong
But you know it's so hard
It's so hard

It's so hard when it doesn't come easy
It's so hard when it doesn't come fast
It's so hard when it doesn't come easy
It's so hard

It felt like a given
Something a woman's born to do
A natural ambition
To see a reflection of me and you

And I'd feel so guilty
If that was a gift I couldn't give
And could you be happy
If life wasn't how we pictured it

And sometimes I just want to wait it out
To prove everybody wrong
And I need your help to move on
Cause you know it's so hard
It's so hard

It's hard. Infertility can kill a woman's spirit and wreak havoc on her soul. Even when you have God by your side, as I feel like I did, it was still "so hard." SO hard. Heart break one month after another, sometimes for years.

But, in February of 2010, we won a battle against infertility, specifically Poly-Cystic Ovarian Syndrome (what they "diagnosed" me with). On November 1, 2010, our miracle entered the world.

Naively, I thought that the heartache and memories of what it felt like to be infertile and to wage that war would dissipate, maybe not completely, but enough that I wouldn't have to think about it or feel them anymore.

I was wrong. Even after having Spencer, it was still hard to see people get pregnant with their second, third, fourth... children. It was hard to hear people say they were going to start trying and that only a few weeks later, they'd find out they were pregnant. It was hard, but it wasn't as devastating as it used to feel, at least. A little less salt on a somewhat healed wound, I guess one could say.

When we decided we were going back to combat against the PCOS, the heartache came back for a while, especially the second round of treatments. I didn't expect the first to work, but the second I had high hopes for. I cried a bit, and moved on more quickly than I did in the three and a half years of irregularity, lack of ovulation, and extremely scarce cycles, before we conceived Spencer.

Third time's a charm, they say, and the third round, we conceived Sprout. I was shocked beyond belief, but of course, completely overjoyed. Though, I had a guarded heart the entire time, and from day one, was terrified I would lose the baby. I guess that's a mother's intuition, maybe, a foreshadowing of the loss that recently occurred. Or, it could be coincidental, who knows. I was worried about it with Spencer, but not quite as much. I remember that this last pregnancy, I was even researching miscarriage and still having pregnancy symptoms while having a miscarriage yet, and things of that nature.

And then, we lost Sprout.

I hope I do not offend anyone out there who hasn't gone through infertility struggles, who has had a baby recently, who just got pregnant, who just announced they were pregnant, who is in the middle of a pregnancy, who is thinking about having a baby... what have you, when I write what is to come. I do not mean to offend anyone with the way my mind and heart feel sometimes.

It's hard, all over again, to see these pregnancies occurring and happening all around me. I have lots of friends and family, from "online only" friends to people I see on a weekly basis, who are pregnant. Oddly, though it kind of makes sense, once a person has a baby, it doesn't tug at my heart strings anymore. Probably because I too have a baby.

But the pregnancy announcements and belly photos and constant reminders that there are people out there continuing to grow a healthy child inside of them sting just a little bit.

I'm not saying I don't want to know about these wonderful blessings, nor do I want to ignore that they're surrounding me, because they do in fact still give me hope. I guess it's a double-edged sword in a way.

Infertility (or other reasons a person can't have a baby) do crazy things to a heart, in that you can be ecstatic for a friend, and devastated for yourself, all in the same instance, regarding the same situation. It stinks. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

I guess some would call it "jealousy" which is another evil monster, and it might be a form of it. But, while I admit I do envy those women who are having healthy pregnancies, I don't do it in a spiteful, hurtful way. I feel that envy in a way that I'm sad for my husband and I in that we just lost a growing baby. I hope that makes sense.

These things are so very hard to articulate.

If I really sit and reflect, I can happily admit that it hurts less now than it did before I became a mother. It's just unfortunate that it still hurts.

Like I said, I hope I didn't offend anyone pouring my heart out there. I don't mean any of this in a hurtful or malicious way. I just... needed to get it out of my system again so I can move on. I don't hate anyone who has it easy, though it's hard to compare that to having it a bit more difficult, of course. I am not mad that others are having healthy babies. I just wish that was my husband and I, too. Hopefully, soon, Jake and I will be back in the "trying to conceive" group of the infertility community, and then, God willing, we'll be blessed with a healthy pregnancy and Spencer will become a big brother. I keep praying. I hope others are still, too.

It's been a week.

It's been one week since I woke up in the hospital, after my D&C. It seems so far away one minute, but then the next, I'm reliving it as if it was this morning that it happened. So is the paradox of life, I guess, where time moves just as quickly as lightning but as slow as one-legged turtle.

I am proud to say that today, I have shed less tears than I have in what seems like ages. Yes, I cried multiple times, but I cried less. Knowing that, I find some comfort.

As I mentioned yesterday, I've been listening to my husband's Sanctus Real "Pieces of a Real Heart" CD as I make my way around in the car. Today, another song hit me. It's called "the Redeemer."

Here are the lyrics:

Sometimes I just want to start over, 'cause everything looks like a wreck
And I need the courage to carry on, 'cause I can't see what's ahead
And there are places I've wished I could be, battles I've wanted to win
Dreams that have slipped through my hands
I may never get back again

But I'm still a dreamer, a believer
Oh, I've lost my faith in so many things, but I still believe in You
'Cause You can make anything new

Sometimes I just wish we could say all the things that are easy to hear
Ignore the injustice we see and explain every unanswered prayer
But I'd rather speak honestly and wear a tattered heart on my sleeve
'Cause in the middle of my broken dreams, redemption is here

And I'm still a dreamer, a believer
Oh, I've lost my faith in so many things, but I still believe in You
'Cause You are the answer, the redeemer
Oh, I've given up on too many things, but I'm not giving up on You
'Cause You can make anything new

I don't have every answer in life
But I'm trusting You one day at a time
'Cause You can make a weak heart stay alive forever
this is where Heaven and Earth collide
I lift my hands and give my life
This is how my weary heart stays alive

I feel like this song also fits my current life situation perfectly. Yup, pretty much every sentence I think was written to apply to me and where I am right now.

I was musing with a friend last night, and my cousin tonight, that there must be a purpose to all of this. I mean, I know that God didn't "take" my unborn child away. But, He did receive Sprout. I know that Satan wants me to blame God, and I absolutely refuse. As I said last night (I think) that's a very new thing for me.

And with that new way of approaching this horrific situation, I find that I have hope that there's a real reason for why this happened to us. Not that it's a good thing to have happened, but something wonderful is bound to come from it, if you're optimistic enough to think so.

I think something will. I don't know that I will know about it, but I frankly don't care. I just have to have that hope to help carry through, I guess.

I like to think that my suffering and sorrow will help someone out there someday. Maybe there's a woman out there who lost a child, or will lose a child, and somehow, they'll happen upon my journey, my emotions, my struggles, and my faith. And, maybe that will inspire her.

I know that I've gone through feelings of absolute abandonment and being morbidly alone in the last week or so. I know that I am not, but my demons allow me to think that from time to time. (Sidenote: here's a fantastic quote that I hadn't thought about before, although I use the phrase "my demons" occasionally. It's from the Beth Moore Bible Study I am doing at church called "When Godly People do Ungodly Things." Ah, fail. I can't figure out where Jake put my study guide, so I'll paraphrase. She muses that since Satan tries to mimic God to fool us into following him, he probably sends demons to each individual as God sends Angels to guide and protect us. What a war, right?)

But, I am sure that out there, somewhere, some woman is going through this alone. She may or may not realize God is there, and she may or may not have any other support. I like to imagine that a purpose for my suffering is to inspire or help that woman out there cope with one of the greatest tragedies and losses in her life.

And maybe I'm way off on all of my thinking. But, a woman can hope, right? I feel like I can hope these things, especially if they're helping me to overcome this intense struggle inside of myself.

That's all for tonight. I am exhausted to my very core.

The Power of a Song.

First, let me say that I made it through today, a week exactly since learning of Sprout's birth into Heaven, with less tears than I anticipated that I would have shed. Granted, it started out pretty rough, from 1:30am until about 4:15am, but the majority of the day, I was pretty calm and collected.

I did have an emotional time at Bible Study, which I was "brave" enough to go to, despite some hesitation and barely having any homework done, but having a wonderful table leader and friend in Kyla, who has been a big support during all of this, definitely helps. But, I made it through that with less hardship than I anticipated, too. God is good.

Today, I was driving to Barnes and Noble in search of God and in search of courage (that's where I did what little Bible study homework I finished), and I realized that for the past four or five days, I have been listening mainly to one song on repeat in the car. Jake had left his Sanctus Real CD in the car last week, and there was one song in particular that really caught my heart.

Here are the lyrics:

I wanna know why pain makes me stronger
I wanna know why good men die
Why am I so afraid of the dark but I stray from the light?

I wanna know why You gave me eyes when faith is how I see.
Tell me, is it easier to doubt or harder to believe?
Oh so many questions stiring in me.

[Chorus]
And I'm wondering why.
Sometimes the truth ain't easy to find.
I want to know all the answers, but I'm learning that;
These things take time, yeah
These things take time.

How can success make us feel like failures?
And the harder we fall the harder we try
The more I have the more I need just to feel like I'm getting by.
Oh so many questions in one short life.

And we spend so much time
Chasing our tails
Hopin' to find
Every last answer
To everything in life.
So many questions
Not enough time...


We all want to understand why;
Evil lives and good men die
On the way to Heaven the truth unwinds.
These things take time
These things take time
Yeah, these things take time.

I got to thinking about how I seem to have a pattern of finding a certain song or two for big events in my life, and they end up being played on repeat as I cope with hardships or exalt in joy. A few of the songs on the "soundtrack of my life" as I decided I would refer to it as, are "Martyrs and Thieves" by Jennifer Knapp, from my camp days, "If I Am" by Nine Days, from high school. "Name" by the Goo Goo Dolls, from my high school days. "Crash Into Me" by Dave Matthews, from falling in love with Jake. Those are just a few. I could go on and on, but I won't.

But this song, "These Things Take Time," that's the one I'm playing now. I, being human, want to know WHY this has happened to Jake and I. I want to be able to be done grieving and to be healed NOW. But, I won't know why, and I have to accept the fact that I can't just instantly be okay with it all. That's a short bit on why the song is so meaningful to me.

I feel like I'm starting on the upward climb toward healing. I feel moreso now than over the past week that I will get through this, with God and with Jake both beside me. I need them both, and I am not ashamed to say it.

At Bible study tonight, we were discussing how Satan attacks those who are strong in their faith and who are standing for the Lord. Part of me wonders if that might be part of what happened here. Jake and I conceived Sprout after joining a church, finding a faith family, and after I, personally, feel stronger in my faith than I may ever have in the past, that I can recall, anyway. And then, this tragedy strikes. But, instead of blaming God or being angry at God, or blaming myself, I decide to pray to God and take up at his side to help me get through it. In many other struggles I've gone through in my life, that wasn't the case, and I found myself trapped in powerlessness and sadness, numb to God and numb to myself, for quite an extended period of time. Reflecting tonight at Bible study really gave me hope that I am going to get through this, more easily than other traumas and tragedies and rough times in my life, even though, by far, I think this the saddest, darkest season I have had to face thus far.

That's reassuring.

And I know I've said it before, but I will say it again. I am so blessed by the support, encouragement, and prayers of my family, my faith family, and my friends.

Yes, tonight, I am still sad. I will probably shed more tears over our lost child. But, they aren't tears of hopelessness. And when I wake up in the morning and drive to work, I will hear the current track of my life soundtrack, and be reminded that it's okay to be where I am, to grieve how I grieve, and that I WILL be okay.

Sorry if this was mumbled and jumbled. I am exhausted.

Lullabies, Crafts, and Fireworks

I apologize in advance, and in retrospect, that almost all of my blogging lately has to do with Spencer or motherhood. It obviously is one of the very biggest parts of my life, and seriously, it's always on my mind, or nearly always.

Spencer has a CD with lullabies on it that plays in his room, pretty much non-stop, unless we realize it's running during the day and turn it off. It's a collection of songs, mostly that have meaning to him or our family. For example, "Never Grow Up" by Taylor Swift is the first song, for him and for me, because we danced to it right after he came home from the hospital, and it also reminds me not to take anything for granted, even his fussy evenings. Next is, "Godspeed" by the Dixie Chicks, as when I first heard it many years ago, I had hoped for a little boy to sing that song to at night. Somewhere further in the tracks is "A Page is Turned" by Bebo Norman, which was the song his daddy and I danced to at our wedding. Those are just a few.

Recently, I have decided that, since I have the linguistic abilities and some musical skills as well, maybe I should write him a personalized lullaby. Unfortunately, the idea hasn't taken off in depth, other than a few lyrics/melodies I sang to the voice recorder on my cell phone. I told the idea to Jake, and he wrote lyrics to his own lullaby. So, hopefully soon, Spencer will be spoiled with two of his own lullabies.

I happened upon Stumbleupon (or a friend told me about it and three weeks later I joined and started using it), and amidst some of my recommendations, I found a craft blog that I sat and read in its entirety and became inspired. The other day, I pulled out some of my craft papers, and constructed a tree. Yup, a tree. And I enjoyed it so much I started another (which is not yet finished).

It made me miss the days of Jake's big desk (that I was given when we moved in together) that I used for crafting- specifically book binding. Man, I LOVE binding books, but after we moved to Sioux Falls and didn't have room for the big desk, and therefore gave it to his brother, I stopped binding. We didn't have room. Still don't, really, but I found all of my old supplies that I just couldn't bear to part with, and I wish that I had space and time to make a few books again.

Last night, we took Spencer to a fireworks show here in town. He LOVED it. And while we were sitting there sharing our ice cream as Jake ate his own (he couldn't share, because he had peanuts and chocolate), I realized that another of our long-time family-oriented dreams had come true and we were living it right then and there. For as long as Jake and I have been together and discussing a future family, we would say things like, "I can't wait until someday when we show our kids fireworks." And there we were, all three of us... watching fireworks. And it was magical.

And a parting thought... I am ready for a new blog title. I just can't decide on one.

She used to play guitar.

Two weeks or so ago, my husband asked me why I don't play guitar with him anymore. I answered, "I don't play guitar at ALL anymore, not just not with you," or something along those lines.

He asked me if it was because the fact that he's excellent at it (not his exact words) made me feel frustrated or something.

I told him no.

I meant it.

He asked why, and I had to actually dig deep down to find the answer. When I finally did, I told him, "it's because it's not fun anymore. I started playing guitar for me, for fun, but it's not. Not when everyone would demand I play this for them, or that for them..."

It was kind of shocking, actually, that I felt that way, but then again, not really. When people would beg and plead for me to play a given song (any that I knew) I would begrudgingly do it and hope to be done as soon as I could.

When I first asked my parents for a guitar, I did it because I was inspired by someone I saw playing. It looked like fun. I didn't want to perform concerts, I just wanted to know how to play. My parents got me a guitar for Christmas in either 2000 or 2001, I think, and I was embarrassed to play in front of anyone. I was teaching myself in my room.

Gradually, I'd start playing for people, and it was fun, when it was on my watch. But when I'd be asked, I would put up a wall. I have no idea why.

I still don't know why.

But when I pick up a guitar to play for fun, for me, when I want to, it's completely different.

I want to get past it.

The other night, I went to move Ivy (the Ibanez guitar that Jake and I purchased a year or two ago) off the couch, and Spencer saw me. He got a big smile and started bouncing like he does when Jake plays for him. I assumed he thought I was going to play... so... I did...

for the first time since he was born! Holy cow! I hadn't played since I was pregnant. That's nuts!

I played the first song that came to mind, "Hold Me Now," by Jennifer Knapp. When I started singing, he started making "Aaaaaaahh" noises, like he was singing along, bouncing on the floor like he does when his daddy plays. It was obvious that he was excited and enjoying his private little concert.

That felt... well, indescribably wonderful. I loved seeing his face light up for me like it does for his daddy. I too know how to play. I might not be great, and I might be totally bashful and filled with stage fright, but I do know how, and I need to keep on.

In other news, last night, Jake's twin, Jesse, and his friend, Sam, came over to babysit Spencer and give Jake and I a night to ourselves. Jake took me out for some delicious sushi, then ice cream, and then to Best Buy to oogle over guitars, and finally for coffee. It was a lovely few hours away. Rumor has it, we might be blessed with these opportunities monthly. I guess we'll see!

There goes my hero...

The Foo Fighters have this awesome song that my husband just loves. It's called "My Hero." There are various sources that say this song is a tribute to Kurt Cobain, but then others say that's made up, so who knows. It doesn't really matter for the point of my post, anyway. Moving on... It's a pretty fantastic song. I enjoy it quite a bit too. Of course, as is the case with most songs, I prefer the acoustic version. Here's a youtube video of it for those who'd like to listen.

Naturally, since Jake loves the song so much, when I hear the opening, I automatically think of him. However, over time, it's really become a song to me that is about him. Truthfully.

As I mentioned in my last blog, I had surgery last week to remove a cyst on my tail bone.

My husband has been absolutely wonderful. He not only took me in for surgery and brought me home, but has been working really hard for me to heal.

That means that he's been doing most of the chores and taking care of the baby. Yes, he's basically taken on my role while I'm home, and also his own while he's home, and even went to work yesterday to make sure we would have funds to get us by. He's been working really, really hard.

I don't know how to tell him properly that I appreciate his dedication and loyalty, his love and compassion, and his selflessness as much as I really do. I used to feel like I was quite a linguist, but then I realize that my emotions don't always line up with words as well as I'd like... meaning, words aren't as meaningful as I'd hoped. I've given gifts and planned dates or outings for us in the past to show appreciation, but that doesn't always cut it either.

Maybe I'll let him take a nice long nap. Haha.

Seriously though, he's been the biggest blessing this week.

I haven't been able to move well, sit against my back, bend, and lift things. So, while I feel I've been neglecting Spencer, Jake has really been there. He has given most every bottle, baby food meal, every bath, changed nearly every diaper, picked him up almost every time he was sad, and he has gotten up every single time in the middle of the night, except once last night, because I was up and felt like I could manage.

That's right. Wednesday night, Thursday night, Friday night, and Saturday night... every time Spencer woke, except once.

For the record, Spencer hasn't been a real peach the past few nights, either. It turns out, after Jake took him into acute care this morning, he has another ear infection. That explains the various fevers and waking up screaming multiple times in the night.

I must confess, had it been me getting up every night like that, I can't honestly, with 100% certainty say that I wouldn't have let a comment like this slipped through my lips at some point... something like... "Ugh, I'm just so tired since I've had to get up every time."

I wouldn't have even meant for it to be a slam against Jake, but thinking about it, I'm sure he would feel that way, had I said that.

I can say with 100% certainty, however, that he has not once complained about all the extra work he's been putting in around the house, for me to heal. (Or, if he has, I haven't heard it.) He also hasn't said that I have to get up every single time once I'm completely healed for the same number of nights that he's done it for me. I know I wouldn't say that to him (or mean it if I did say it jokingly, as I really might jokingly throw it out there), but I wouldn't blame him for saying it to me.

That's is FANTASTIC.

He has helped me shower. He's helped me put on pants. Helped me put on socks. Helped me put on shoes. Helped me walk, helped me stand up and sit down. And he's made most of the meals... including warming up those that were given to us and serving them.

Yesterday, he worked. I know I whined a few times to him about how hard it was to be at home with sick Spencer, alone, in pain, unable to take my meds, unable to care for him to the "perfection" I try to attain regularly... and yet, when he got home last night, the first thing he said is "You can drug yourself and sleep now."

So selfless.

This morning, he got up early to shower, and take Spencer to the doctor, and is now at church for both services. Spencer is at the church nursery. We weren't sure I should be trying to lift the car seat into the big suburban and then get in it and drive myself, since I can't lean against this tube and it feels like it's pulling and it's painful when I stretch too bad... so I'm home completely alone for the first time since the surgery. I thought it a great opportunity to write this tribute before I go lie down again (because the pain medications are still making me dizzy and woozy).

I am so impressed. I am so grateful. I am SO FORTUNATE that Jake has been here for me.

He really is my hero. He has been in the past for all the small reasons... this is just another, a bigger reason, that he remains my hero.

"There goes my hero, watch him as he goes. There goes my hero, he's ordinary. Kudos my hero, leaving all the best..."

I love you, Jacob (because I know you'll read this).

Songs to Sing and Dance to

Pure joy is: dancing with your baby boy in his bedroom as he snuggles against your cheek and singing softly in his ear.

At least, that's an example I would give to define it.

Spencer has a cold. It's his first one ever. It breaks my heart to hear him cough, or hear his raspy yet screechy cry throughout the day as he just doesn't feel right.

Often, I sing to him. I sing a ton, every day. I rock him in the chair or sway with him as I stand, or sit.

Today, I decided to dance with him. I don't know why I hadn't before, but it felt perfect the moment I started.

We danced, and he snuggled up against my cheek and fell soundly into slumber. I sang "Never Grow Up," by Taylor Swift, which was introduced to me just yesterday by his uncle Jesse.

As I laid Spencer in his crib to nap, I got to thinking about how there are so many songs I turn to when I'm going to sing to him, and how I wondered if some day, he'd remember them. I know they say musical memory is one of the first types of memory you acquire and it also stays with you the longest, so I am sure he'll remember things like "You are my Sunshine," until he's a very old man, because I sing that song the most frequently. But there are so many others I sing to him, or I play for him that are mainstream songs, and he might not remember any of it when he's older.

So, I decided that not only would I make him a playlist of the songs that I sing, play, or dance to for him, but I will make a CD as well. And I'll put it in the fire-safe box we have for important things like social security cards and birth certificates. And if I add more songs to the repetoire, I'll add them and make a new CD later. I think I'll cut it off to those I frequent the most, in this first year. I just don't know, but I thought it was a great idea, and I'm sticking with it. Someday, I hope he'll appreciate it.

And, for curious minds, here are a few that will be on there:

• Circle Song - Jewel
• When You Dream - Barenaked Ladies
• Godspeed - Dixie Chicks
• A Page is Turned - Bebo Norman
• When You Come Back Down - Nickel Creek
• Never Grow Up - Taylor Swift

I have some more, but I'll leave you to wonder, or perhaps catch, if you're ever around when I'm with my baby boy.