the one i never held

this is for my sweet sister melanie...

it's a gorgeous october day. a friend and i walk to the park with our little ones. i am savoring the blessing of new friendship these days and the fullness in my spirit that fall often brings me. so much good is around us. it's hard to imagine that one year ago i was still frantically working at the coffee shop, eric subbing and going to classes, ezri was one month from being born. we had no idea what where we'd be in one year.

and the year before that, we were devastated. 

my friend's daughter is dumping sand down her back and squealing at ezri with pure joy. we laugh and marvel at their joy as we see her son climb the jungle gym. little haley is exactly six months older than ezri... 

she is as old as my first little one would have been. 

i have no adequate way to explain the sadness and sweetness in my heart when i think of it. at this time two years ago, i only had a suspicion that i might be pregnant. i was. but i was almost terrified to take a test. we found out on halloween actually. we'd met eric's dad in wichita for lunch, i'd not been crazy about the coffee, i'd been moody and miserable at the mall, i think we even had an argument.

but i came home, took the test, it was positive. i walked outside and looked at the empty field across from our door as the sun set. that's where i told eric that we were going to have a baby. we were floored. it was much sooner than we'd "planned"... but it was okay. we knew we wanted this before we even married.

i tell my new friend that we would have had one little haley's age... and she shares about the fear and half expectation she had had of miscarriage. her mom had, so she had thought she would. i knew the feeling well. it happened for me.

we lost our baby in november. 

i was certain i was miscarrying while we were away from home. during a trip to see family and watch a play at our college... surrounded by friends who were so happy for us, i could feel my hope slip away. at intermission the night we went to see the play, i remember walking to the restroom and praying praying praying that i would keep this little life. that sunday we rushed the long drive home and went to the ER... nothing could be done for us then but "wait and see" i waited til the tuesday to go to our previously scheduled ultrasound.

our baby wasn't there anymore.

if you haven't lost a little one like this, it's hard to know what to say or do... we had so many love on us and so many share their losses with us. a beautiful friend who had had a stillborn baby boy was there to aid the doctor when i went for the d & c... i can still see her bright and teary eyes over her surgical mask.

there is no loss like this one. there never will be. i never got to hold her. our little ariel was gone before we knew her. and we wept and cried to have my baby back. i still cry for her. 

today i'm crying for her, and for the little one my brother and sister in law have just lost.

there are never words for it. when we lose anyone to death, we cry for ourselves... we are alone, we have lost someone... and there is no loss like the loss of the babe you marked your calendar for with love and anticipation. we shared that we were expecting early, and i am thankful for that, because we were wrapped in arms of love from around the world.

eric and i will always have moments where we think of her... heaven will be sweeter... i think of her there with grandma donna, and so many others... and today i thank our Creator for the bonds we have on earth that comfort us when our joy must turn to mourning.

a year from the day we found out that we'd lost our first little one, our donna ezri was born. and the joy returns and wraps itself around the mourning... you will never stop wondering about the one you lose, but God gives you new moments of wonder... you never will stop aching for that babe to be in your arms, but your heart will ache with joy and thanksgiving again.

I will turn their mourning into joy; I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow."

Jeremiah 31:13

(un)burden

Source: designspongeonline.com via Stefanie on Pinterest

we're blessed. we're growing. we're rich compared to so many in the world at large. but...

things are tight. and we're okay with that. no, really we are. we've worked hard in the past year and a half to knock out our consumer debt, and now we're (mainly) working on student loan debt. like so many americans our age, we're just plain thankful that we're employed and not homeless. like so many americans, we've struggled with the constant pressure to live beyond our means. the holidays are coming up and i have to confess:

i'm sick of it. i am sick of feeling like i *have* to measure up. that i have to give certain kinds of gifts and make sure that no one is forgotten. that every family member gets something they want... the pressure is looming above me and I HATE IT.

pretty sure that most people who know me are not terribly surprised by that statement. eric and i have talked a lot since we married, well and before too, about what kind of lifestyle we want to have. we're lovers of good things. good food, good books, good conversation and good sturdy things... we love our family time, and we love our spiritual family near and far.

we also feel strongly that less is more.

no, like really strongly.

as in, it's a battle but i am making a conscious effort not to shop "just for fun" anymore. i know myself, and i always end up feeling dissatisfied. i feel the pressure to consume, to buy buy buy... even if what i'm purchasing isn't exactly what i need. how is that good?

we are so concerned in our culture with being green - we're really into emphasizing recycling, so trendy now - and buying (buying!) the right kind of water bottles and baby products (products!) and purchasing (purchasing!) the best reusable grocery bags. ugh. marketing marketing marketing. you are so clever.

and i want the super cute reusable totes from my favorite box store. i want the awesome glass water bottles from starbucks. but i really and truly don't need them. i have a kitchen full of dishes and gadgets, closets full of clothing, unfinished crafts, scarves and umbrellas and christmas decorations. we moved into a house that is about 1200 square feet and were thankful we had attic space to store a box of books we don't have room for and two tubs of sentimental keepsakes that we are not able to part with. but they're just sitting there, like half the stuff we own.

sure, ez needs some socks that fit her and it would be great to be able to buy her another book or that little wooden car in the toy store, but she has all she needs too. i love bringing her into the church nursery and seeing her dive out of my arms toward a room full of toys. it's like disneyland for her because she has *just enough* at home...

we have just enough, and it leaves room for big feelings like peace and contentment. it gives us a chance to delight in the invitation to watch a football game at a friend's house, because we don't have the mental clutter of cable TV all the time. it means that an evening spent watching our baby play and explore a house that is friendly and spare with plenty of room to crawl around in is the best entertainment ever. a clear dining room table means i can put a beautiful meal on it, pull up the highchair, pour some tea and listen to my husband talk about his day. we are rich because we have less.

someday, we will have more breathing room in our budget. debts will be repaid and we will have learned better habits... it's what we're doing right now. right now we are making the choices that will enable us to relax and enjoy being able to save for retirement and our daughter's college (or whatever she wants to do) fund. right now we are learning self control. we are disciplining ourselves so that the gift we give ourselves and our little girl is an enduring one amounting to more than just a few christmases with piles of gifts.

this year, we are opening a savings account for ezri. it's her birthday present. every year we will add to it, and encourage those family members who wish to gift her to consider adding to it as well. there may be a few handmade gifts that i make this year for her and for others, because that is what we can give and it is our best right now. i am hoping we can save and get her a little christmas dress, or a doll ...

but the reality is, she won't remember that. we all know that. we will cherish any and every tangible physical gift we are given and that she is given because it comes from the hearts of those who love us. and we will give from our hearts too.

and in the meantime i will remind myself that i don't have to worry about what others think of my choices, and that most people are supportive even if they think we're odd...

i like being odd. i like being less burdened. i like that i have loved ones who share the burdens i have with me. i am blessed, with less.

connect >

yesterday was the tenth anniversary of 9/11. i know that i'm not the only one who has had that lingering in the back of my mind for the past few weeks... for me, a person who likes to play the memory game and often, it was a chance to look back on a decade's worth of life.

i was 19. college, sophomore year just started, best roommate situation i've ever had (before eric ;), a very questionable long distance boyfriend who would soon become my fiance... acting class, survey of civ, lifetime wellness... and who knows what else.

my long distance boyfriend - the future ex-husband - was in dallas working that semester... we IM'd about the attack. he didn't call me, i didn't call him. funny to think about now in the context of a long past relationship... i see so many of those things as an indicator of how wonky our relationship was. over this past weekend i've heard so many people recall how they raced to find their spouse, their children, their parents... to hold them and reassure themselves. i was on the cusp of being engaged to this guy and all he said, over the internet, was: well, the sh*** has hit the fan now.

seriously?!!

which is probably why when i think of what i was doing on 9/11 i think of the class i was in when it happened, the chapel service that morning and singing "God Moved In a Mysterious Way" instead.

in some ways, i think my life started to explode that fall too.

homecoming came, and i was suddenly engaged and planning a wedding for spring break of the following year... and struggling with mixed emotions that i never expected when i imagined myself finding "mr. right". he was in texas, because he was on academic suspension from our school, and i was alone in tennessee. i don't think i realized it then, in fact i know i didn't until i returned to the US from Italy in 2005, but i had begun to disconnect.

things weren't what i had thought they'd be, and i was too naive to see why and too scared to get out. and so as the president began to advise us to continue living our lives as usual and to spend spend spend, i began to believe that where i was and how i was being treated was normal. as we buried our shock and horror at what had happened to us as a nation, i buried my normal healthy reactions (the ones he told me were wrong) in shopping for stuff i didn't need with money we didn't have. i quit school. i took prozac. i thought there was something really wrong with me.

my family held on as much as they could... the line stretched from kansas to georgia, my grandmother died in June that year... the line stretched from kansas to Italy, i nearly died in June of that year.

alone in military housing, each apartment a mirror of the other, i took long bubble baths and ignored the laundry and the garbage and the yelling when he got home... i took the dog for walks, talked to my mother every day long distance, and finally tried to talk to my him about how awful everything was. another explosion. he yelled the word "divorce" in a string of irate sentences and left to God knows where, the door slam echoing on the tile. i went upstairs, opened the bottle of perkaset and took it all. there was nowhere for me to go, and (i thought) no one to help me.

10 minutes later, i called the only friend i could think of and she raced me to the hospital. i don't even feel anything when i think about my time in there... i have a memory of an Italian nurse squeezing my hand and speaking soothingly as they pumped my stomach. my heart is only beginning to ache now.

that was June 2004. i was completely disconnected. the hands of strangers brought me back, the actions of our military's employees got me home (i can never praise the chaplaincy and services on that base enough), and i began to wake up.

it took the US until the recession in the winter of 2008 to wake up... by then i was sitting in my car listening to NPR and not wanting to walk across the frozen parking lot to work. i'd been divorced (after a year of working desperately to fix things) since April of 2006... an engagement ring sparkled on my hand again, and i was longing to be home with the man who loved me, listened to me, understood me and who was loved and praised by all my loved ones.

since then, i've been repairing the last walls that were broken. i'm safe, i'm surrounded by those who love me and i even love myself (and that one took a while!), and i have a connection to those who hurt that the 19 year old who wasn't even sure the first reports of the 9/11 were real would have ever had.

lately, these themes of connection>disconnection|reconnection< have been rolling around in my heart, touching on my spirituality, on my choices as a new parent, on our choices as a society (global and national) and my choices as a human being... our hearts stopped when we saw how vulnerable we were and how quickly the world could go sideways, what else could we do but hunker down and bury the hurt with things and anger toward those who hurt us? there are many who have shared much more powerful insight on the impact of 9/11 and what it has done to us as Americans, and as global citizens, for me i have recognized in myself this touchstone... this stone of remembrance that has helped me begin to honor the journey i've made.

"Here I raise my Ebenezer, hither by thy help I've come. And I hope by Thy good measure, safely to arrive at home."

thank you for remembering with me, thank you for connecting.

another letter...

this was initially a guest post submission for a blog i follow... i initially thought it didn't make the cut, but i was wrong (thanks Gina!) ... look for it on The Feminist Breeder this Thursday, April 14.

For Donna Ezri:

Itʼs a warm spring day, the Kansas wind nearly knocked me over this morning while I was sliding you into the Moby wrap to go shopping. You are four months and five days old and your father and I are besotted with you.

Whenever you read this, I hope that you know that to your core. My prayer, with every breath as we sit and nurse in the glow of lamplight or as you lay on the floor rolling and squealing with delight and discovery, is that you will always know you are loved and worthy of it.

A few days ago I decided to write this letter for you. Itʼs gone through many drafts and stops and starts since then. There is so much, a universe I want to guide you through, so much I want to make sure you know. When I see the light and joy behind your eyes, and (already!) the anger and determination there too, I wonder how I am ever going to keep up with you and everything you need.

I have no idea what might transpire between the time that I look at you now and when you read this letter. I do know myself, and your dad, and what we are determined to give you... The things we want to teach you are really detailed and really nebulous... Love and understanding of the world around you, and ability to put yourself in the place of others and be willing to do whatever you can to help them... Passion for doing what is right, and determination to stand by your beliefs and be able to explain them without alienating others but opening their minds and hopefully opening your own.

When I think of the you that will read this letter, I see a bright and determined redheaded beauty, maybe 20 years old - maybe 16... and I think of myself at those ages. Your grandparents were born to be parents. They raised me to be interested in the world around me and to become an adult ready to interact with that world fully. I want the same for you. But I know that in the craziness of being a family, and raising you, and making sure you know how to be that person you are becoming, I may not
communicate everything I hope for you.

The world around us is full of beautiful things and difficult things, and all of it is going to shape you and change you and challenge you into being an amazing young woman. I canʼt wait to know you as that person. Never think that I donʼt want to listen to what youʼre thinking and feeling. I canʼt think of anything more important than knowing my family and what is in their hearts. You and your father are the blessing I never thought I would have.

You are at the threshold of life, and there is so much in front of you. If you donʼt realize or know it yet, I am behind you, I want you to excel in whatever you want to do and whatever it is you are passionate about. There may be times, I know there will be, when I will tell you truthfully what I think about things you do or say, but even if it is critical it does not change how much I care about you and the person you are. In fact, I tell you honestly what I think because I love you.

If I could tell you one thing that helped me most in the first ten years of my “adult life”, before you, it would be this:

The only person you can truly change is yourself.

I know, itʼs pretty straight forward, seemingly obvious... and, after living with me for 16 to 20 years, I am certain youʼve heard it a few times. There are some big reasons why this phrase is important to me.

The only person you really have complete “control” over is yourself, and it should be the only person you control... and that alone is a difficult job at times! Changing yourself is something you ought to do for yourself first, and most of the time only yourself. Donʼt let anyone tell you that you are unworthy or make you feel as if you cannot do what you know you can do.

There will be people in your life that you will fall for, that you will love or admire, that you will want to impress for reasons good and bad... they are the people you want to change for, and at times they are the people you think you can change. I have the privilege right now to help shape you and how you see the world, but I would never want to try and change your (already!) vibrant and sweet determined nature for the world. No matter how much you love another person and desperately desire them to change, the most you can ever do is love them and let them know you want to help. You can pray, you can be the best influence you can be, but they must make the choice to change if they need to.

And thatʼs the other thing that I have the blessing of seeing in you: the choices you make, good and bad, that will make you. You will see me make choices too, I canʼt guarantee that they will always be best, but I can promise with all my heart that the choices I make have been and will be with your contentment and happiness in mind.

Right now, the choices I see you make are whether to roll over or stay put, to reach for my coffee mug or to nurse or play... soon theyʼll get bigger and bigger. No matter how big or small, I am your mother and I will always be here cheering you on a praying the best into your life.

I love you.

Thank you for making me your mom.

i am thankful for...

a husband who is a pro at folding cloth diapers and putting baby to sleep

our sweet sleeping little girl

incredible family who pray for us every day

friends that i can still talk to for almost two hours over the phone, who rejoice with me, groan with me, and encourage me

the security that i can only credit God for creating in my choice to just focus on being a mama right now

the blessings that are yet to come, that we don't ever deserve, that God simply holds in store for us because (and I understand this better every day now) we are his children and he will always give us what we need.

__________________

it's hard to believe that ezri is almost 10 weeks old. she's 2 1/2 months... and filling out all of her sleepers and onesies with gorgeous rolls of chub. there is no more beautiful baby, i am mesmerized by her sweet smiles and little "words"... it is truly a sweet time in my life, the sweetest yet. i never knew that this was coming. there is now a part of me that can comfort the broken hearted person i was 5 years ago and rejoice in stepping into a new role that will grow and change with me every day for the rest of my life. the most challenging role i will ever play... and i am thankful for it.

4:46 am

and i'm up. have been since 4 am. there's coffee in the press, and i've finished a bowl of cereal - might be time for another... i just gave in this morning. the dreams were no good, and my heart was racing because of my paranoid brain.

i am terrified of not feeling ezri move.

a month ago or so, at the check up before last with the OB, one of the sheets handed to me by the nurse was entitled "kick counts". oh, that is too cute - soon i'll be feeling her move more and more, and i can count the kicks... that's great, right?

wrong.

as my dad observed the other day to my mother when he saw this sheet, "oh great, another thing to make stefanie paranoid."

now, i love the clinic i'm going to and the two OB doctors who are overseeing me and my pregnancy. they are attentive, straightforward and generally great. the one doc took care of me during our miscarriage last year and i could not have asked for better treatment. and they're so good at mapping out what's ahead... yeah, including letting you know how much your baby should be kicking after 26 weeks' development.

10 times in an hour... if you haven't felt her move that much in an hour, they give you a formula for how long you should wait before calling the doc.

so, every time she doesn't move for a while, or really - when i don't FEEL her for a while (she may be moving, and i'm too busy taking orders, doing dishes, baking or serving coffee) - i start to quietly freak out.

it doesn't help that i have that repository of horror stories to fall back on. thanks moms. not that some of it could be helped - life happens around you, and you hear things, and you should so that you can grieve with the tellers - but, this brain of mine conjures far too often. i think it's worse with age, really i do.

so when my heart starts pounding through my skin whilst i fight off a dream about emma thompson having twin nieces in a bbc crime show, and even in my dream i have this underlying track of, "is baby moving? please God, take care of her... reassure me..." yeah. it's time to wake up, tell myself to calm down and breathe, and take care of the gnawing pregnancy hunger... and then she squirms, and punches, and i allow myself to calm down a little.

and i know that the rest of my life will be like this. holding my breath every time the bad stuff passes us by, praying that my little girl will be spared whatever evil i see, and knowing that eventually she will let us know, "i'm okay, i've got this."

because, she's our baby, and that's what she'll do.

and maybe now i'll be able to dream about that instead.

why my husband is better than me

my husband just came in the door, sweaty and grass covered from mowing our lawn. it's 8 pm on a wednesday night. we came home and he said he needed to "cool down" by mowing. yeah.

so, it is not a secret that i have large opinions, larger emotions and lots of energy behind each conviction i express. i like this about me, most of the time. i have also realized in the past couple of years that these things can be dangerous. being invested in things means getting upset when things take a bad turn. it means getting angry and defensive for "your side", and wanting to give people a piece of your mind.

sometimes, that is good. IF you can get it out clearly, concisely and without being overwhelmed by the urge to punch through a wall instead.

my husband stood by my side about two months ago as i faced a fear of mine and talked to someone i would rather have hit at the time. i knew that i needed to listen to this person and the concerns he had. i knew that it would be wrong of me not to, and that if i simply went on angry and defensive without listening to him and expressing my concerns and reaction to his face that i would implode. it was the jesus-y thing to do. eric was wonderful. he quietly stood through my encounter with this person and reinforced the love i wanted to express over the hurt i felt at some of the things that person said and implied.

tonight, he followed a kid (i say kid because he chose to act like one, he's old enough to know better) out of the church building and called him out on something very uncool that he did. he actually stood there and made this person listen to some straight things. this is a kid who thinks he is always right and always wronged. this is a kid who hasn't had the best examples at times and doesn't know how to react when someone confronts him in love over anything he might have done wrong.

i don't know how he did it.

i've wanted to wring necks, and shout at the top of my lungs, and seriously beat up on some people lately. people that i know i need to love, and really really do. that's why it hurts so much when they do and say things that hurt other people i love. i know this sounds vague. chalk it up to a preacher's kid rant if you will. i am intensely proud of my parents ministry and their devotion to a calling that is not easy. they are loved and respected by so many wonderful people. it's amazing how the power of one or two negative voices can knock you down and cut you through. i don't know why it works that way.

and tonight, if i'd been eric, i don't think i would have had the presence of mind, patience and hope in humanity that he had to go out and talk to a kid that obviously has been hurting for a long time. i think all i would have done is yell.

so when i don't get all the negativity and really really don't understand these people i'm called to love, my sweet sweet husband reminds me how it's done.