Well, school is out and summer break has begun and I'm already beginning to see that on Monday morning at 9am, the first day of our vacation, I'm going to have three months of this to look forward to...
Lord, help me. Happy Summer!
Monday, May 23, 2011
Friday, May 20, 2011
Lainie
Our precious friend at church, Elaine...aka "Lainie" to my boys, made us something after our miscarriage and I wanted to share about it. Lainie makes baby quilts as a gift for all the new babies at our church. It's a tradition that all the new moms have come to expect and look forward to with anticipation. Each quilt is always signed by Lainie and sewn with love. After our miscarriage, Elaine made me this. She had members of our church family sign it so that I could see it as a reminder that people were praying for us and loved us.
Elaine is a woman who has endured much heartache in her life, yet any time you see her, she gives you a hug and a smile, and when you ask her how she is...her answer is, "I'm blessed." Every time...that's her answer. She has a wisdom and grace about her that draws you in and it's impossible to not feel at home when you're with her. When she prays out loud, it makes me cry. Her voice is comforting and sincere and intentional. She is a prayer warrior and biblical giant and she has a heart for the Lord like no one I've ever known. She loves purple, which is fitting since it's the color of royalty. She is strong and healthy and up until a couple of years ago when the kids would run up to her, she would pick them up! We've adopted Lainie as our grandmother. When I think of her, I think of how, "I'm blessed" to have her as a part of my life. We love you Lainie.
"Her children rise up and call her blessed, her husband also praises her. Many daughters have done virtuously, but you excel them all. Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord shall be praised." Proverbs 31:28-30
My Husband
Forgive me for this post being out of order. I'd saved it as a draft to finish later and I'm just now completing it, so it might mess things up a little.
I was thinking the other day about how I never really blog about Jon. I've been meaning to do this and every time he says something that makes me laugh it reminds me that I need to. A few years back, my best friend Megan started noticing things Jon said that were funny, but really only made sense to him. She began to call them "Jon-isms." Since then, the name has stuck. I'll give you a few examples. Some of my favorites are:
1) You can wish in one hand and poop in the other and see which fills up the fastest.
2) I'm happier than a two-peckered puppy
3) You can "what-if" all day long. What if a frog had shorter legs...he probably wouldn't bump his butt when he jumped.
4) That dog just won't hunt.
5) They screwed the pooch on that one.
6) I think I have a hollow leg.
7) He wouldn't know 'come here' from 'sick 'em'.
8) You can't make heads or tails of it.
9) I bet he's pleased as a mud duck.
See what I mean? They only make sense to him.
Jon is like a really old man trapped in a young man's body. He's the kind of guy who would totally wear coveralls in public if I would let him get away with it. He seems to have a certain way of looking at things that could only come from, one: spending part of his childhood in the country and enjoying the great outdoors, two: hard work, and three: being a laid-back, go with the flow, kinda guy.
He's a reserved personality...which, I...am NOT, so, I guess we balance each other out. He's most comfortable in an old college baseball t-shirt, covered with a flannel, and worn-out jeans. He'd rather go fishing or hunting any day instead of watching sports. He's a loyal, life-long friend. He has a servant heart for anyone in need and has a hard time saying "no." He's handy around the house and with cars, and knows how to fix just about anything with duct-tape. If he doesn't know how to do something, he knows someone that does. He can't resist a puppy. He has a strangely large knowledge of musical show tunes, which scares me a little, but I choose to believe it comes from his mom being a former music teacher. He sings oldies in the shower...which he also he a weird knowledge of. Sometimes he feels the need to perform a few renditions for us, so the kids and I sit and watch and laugh at the "Jon Show." He "rat-holes" money away and has the self-control to do this for years before he spends it. He sneezes so loud that it makes me mad. He's obsessed with his yard and is always on the hunt for the best weed-killer. He has a tender-heart and can cry easily over sad things or children. He's very sentimental. He's a semi-hoarder. He does not care if the house is messy or if I don't wear make-up...these things are not important to him. He loves road trips...they make ME carsick. He can quote any movie he's watched in the last 30 years, but can't remember what I asked him to do five minutes ago. He likes to listen to old Southern Gospel on Sunday mornings. He drinks his coffee black and prefers not to eat breakfast. The bathroom is where he goes to take a break from me and the kids. He needs 8-10 hours of sleep nightly and I do quite well on 6...but, he did teach me to love naps. Autumn is his favorite season and he gets a spring in his step when the weather is an average 50 degrees. He has a laugh he makes only when he's feeling ornery and it make me smile every time. He says, "Oh my goodness", and I think it's the cutest thing. He keeps his commitments and promises and honors that he gave someone his word. His dream would be to work his own cattle ranch someday. He loves to watch Food-Network and decide on new things to cook. He is a good dancer...especially when he does his "Beyonce booty-shake."
I met Jon my eighth grade year. Well...at least this is MY first recollection. He says we were introduced our seventh grade year and he remembers distinctly because he walked away and thought "I'm gonna marry that girl". We shared our ninth grade Oklahoma History class together and became friends...just friends. We chatted on the phone many nights, but lost touch after the summer began. We met up again our senior year of high school when we had mutual friends. That reunion wasn't quite as fond a memory for me being that he offended me and I decided he was a jerk. We were at a football game and this smarty thought it would be funny to try out his latest joke and he told me I had a 'butter-face." Bewildered, I said, "What the heck is a butter-face." Jon got a smirk on his face and replied, "It's when everything looks good...BUT HER FACE." Charming, huh? Come to think of it...I think I'm mad all over again just telling this story. I'll let it slide though since I know that's not true...and since I knew he was in love with me and just being the little boy on the playground who pulls the little girls' ponytail to get her attention...but, that's another story for another time.
Eventually, I gave him the time of day and he won me over. Really, I just got tired of hearing him beg, but pretty quickly I began to fall in love with this man who I met when he was just a boy and I saw that he wasn't like others I'd dated. He didn't talk much, but when he did he said things that really were worth listening to. He knew who he was and didn't try to be something he wasn't. He stood up for his convictions and morals when everyone else seemed to be falling. He loved me for me. He was and still is my best friend. And, when I look back and think about that red-headed, skinny baseball player who sat behind me in Oklahoma History and made me laugh with the 'scrunched nose ugly-face' laugh...I smile. Because now...his hair is starting to turn gray...he's not so skinny anymore...he never became a pro ball player...ninth grade seems like a million years ago...BUT...he still makes me laugh. He makes me laugh really hard...and I still get the ugly face. He still loves me, just for me, and...he's still my best friend. I'm a very blessed woman to be Mrs. Jon Elliott.
I was thinking the other day about how I never really blog about Jon. I've been meaning to do this and every time he says something that makes me laugh it reminds me that I need to. A few years back, my best friend Megan started noticing things Jon said that were funny, but really only made sense to him. She began to call them "Jon-isms." Since then, the name has stuck. I'll give you a few examples. Some of my favorites are:
1) You can wish in one hand and poop in the other and see which fills up the fastest.
2) I'm happier than a two-peckered puppy
3) You can "what-if" all day long. What if a frog had shorter legs...he probably wouldn't bump his butt when he jumped.
4) That dog just won't hunt.
5) They screwed the pooch on that one.
6) I think I have a hollow leg.
7) He wouldn't know 'come here' from 'sick 'em'.
8) You can't make heads or tails of it.
9) I bet he's pleased as a mud duck.
See what I mean? They only make sense to him.
Jon is like a really old man trapped in a young man's body. He's the kind of guy who would totally wear coveralls in public if I would let him get away with it. He seems to have a certain way of looking at things that could only come from, one: spending part of his childhood in the country and enjoying the great outdoors, two: hard work, and three: being a laid-back, go with the flow, kinda guy.
He's a reserved personality...which, I...am NOT, so, I guess we balance each other out. He's most comfortable in an old college baseball t-shirt, covered with a flannel, and worn-out jeans. He'd rather go fishing or hunting any day instead of watching sports. He's a loyal, life-long friend. He has a servant heart for anyone in need and has a hard time saying "no." He's handy around the house and with cars, and knows how to fix just about anything with duct-tape. If he doesn't know how to do something, he knows someone that does. He can't resist a puppy. He has a strangely large knowledge of musical show tunes, which scares me a little, but I choose to believe it comes from his mom being a former music teacher. He sings oldies in the shower...which he also he a weird knowledge of. Sometimes he feels the need to perform a few renditions for us, so the kids and I sit and watch and laugh at the "Jon Show." He "rat-holes" money away and has the self-control to do this for years before he spends it. He sneezes so loud that it makes me mad. He's obsessed with his yard and is always on the hunt for the best weed-killer. He has a tender-heart and can cry easily over sad things or children. He's very sentimental. He's a semi-hoarder. He does not care if the house is messy or if I don't wear make-up...these things are not important to him. He loves road trips...they make ME carsick. He can quote any movie he's watched in the last 30 years, but can't remember what I asked him to do five minutes ago. He likes to listen to old Southern Gospel on Sunday mornings. He drinks his coffee black and prefers not to eat breakfast. The bathroom is where he goes to take a break from me and the kids. He needs 8-10 hours of sleep nightly and I do quite well on 6...but, he did teach me to love naps. Autumn is his favorite season and he gets a spring in his step when the weather is an average 50 degrees. He has a laugh he makes only when he's feeling ornery and it make me smile every time. He says, "Oh my goodness", and I think it's the cutest thing. He keeps his commitments and promises and honors that he gave someone his word. His dream would be to work his own cattle ranch someday. He loves to watch Food-Network and decide on new things to cook. He is a good dancer...especially when he does his "Beyonce booty-shake."
I met Jon my eighth grade year. Well...at least this is MY first recollection. He says we were introduced our seventh grade year and he remembers distinctly because he walked away and thought "I'm gonna marry that girl". We shared our ninth grade Oklahoma History class together and became friends...just friends. We chatted on the phone many nights, but lost touch after the summer began. We met up again our senior year of high school when we had mutual friends. That reunion wasn't quite as fond a memory for me being that he offended me and I decided he was a jerk. We were at a football game and this smarty thought it would be funny to try out his latest joke and he told me I had a 'butter-face." Bewildered, I said, "What the heck is a butter-face." Jon got a smirk on his face and replied, "It's when everything looks good...BUT HER FACE." Charming, huh? Come to think of it...I think I'm mad all over again just telling this story. I'll let it slide though since I know that's not true...and since I knew he was in love with me and just being the little boy on the playground who pulls the little girls' ponytail to get her attention...but, that's another story for another time.
Eventually, I gave him the time of day and he won me over. Really, I just got tired of hearing him beg, but pretty quickly I began to fall in love with this man who I met when he was just a boy and I saw that he wasn't like others I'd dated. He didn't talk much, but when he did he said things that really were worth listening to. He knew who he was and didn't try to be something he wasn't. He stood up for his convictions and morals when everyone else seemed to be falling. He loved me for me. He was and still is my best friend. And, when I look back and think about that red-headed, skinny baseball player who sat behind me in Oklahoma History and made me laugh with the 'scrunched nose ugly-face' laugh...I smile. Because now...his hair is starting to turn gray...he's not so skinny anymore...he never became a pro ball player...ninth grade seems like a million years ago...BUT...he still makes me laugh. He makes me laugh really hard...and I still get the ugly face. He still loves me, just for me, and...he's still my best friend. I'm a very blessed woman to be Mrs. Jon Elliott.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
This Mother's Day
This Mother's Day has got me feeling a little emotional. I miss my baby. I've been thinking that this month I should be finding out the sex of that little one. I should have a little belly showing. I should be making plans of how to decorate the nursery. I'm lonesome for that baby...that I never knew, never felt kick, never swaddled. But, God reminds me that I have so much to be thankful for this Mother's Day. I've got these guys.
I'm grateful for two healthy, happy children. I'm grateful for little boys who tell me that I'm pretty and that I smell good. I'm grateful that Cole always is the first to notice when I paint my toenails. I'm grateful that Jack likes to draw pictures of the girl superheroes just for me and hang them on my refrigerator. I'm grateful for the flowers (aka weeds) they pick for me every time they go outside. I'm thankful for the dead bugs, plastic army guys, and rocks that I find in their pockets when I'm doing the laundry. I'm thankful for the one-on-one snuggle time they each give me early in the morning. I like to smell their hair, the crease of their necks, and their morning breath.
I love to go in and check on them while they're sleeping. I pull the books and cars and superhero toys out of the tangled mess of blankets. They might stir and stretch just the same way they did as newborns in their bassinet. I tuck them in one last time and make sure they have their animals and blankets. And I stare...just for a minute. I watch them breathe...in and out...in and out. I brush their hair back, and with my finger I draw an imaginary line down their nose and trace their lips and kiss their mouth, and slowly close the door...and wish they would stop growing. Thank you Lord for what you've given...and taken away.
I'm grateful for two healthy, happy children. I'm grateful for little boys who tell me that I'm pretty and that I smell good. I'm grateful that Cole always is the first to notice when I paint my toenails. I'm grateful that Jack likes to draw pictures of the girl superheroes just for me and hang them on my refrigerator. I'm grateful for the flowers (aka weeds) they pick for me every time they go outside. I'm thankful for the dead bugs, plastic army guys, and rocks that I find in their pockets when I'm doing the laundry. I'm thankful for the one-on-one snuggle time they each give me early in the morning. I like to smell their hair, the crease of their necks, and their morning breath.
I love to go in and check on them while they're sleeping. I pull the books and cars and superhero toys out of the tangled mess of blankets. They might stir and stretch just the same way they did as newborns in their bassinet. I tuck them in one last time and make sure they have their animals and blankets. And I stare...just for a minute. I watch them breathe...in and out...in and out. I brush their hair back, and with my finger I draw an imaginary line down their nose and trace their lips and kiss their mouth, and slowly close the door...and wish they would stop growing. Thank you Lord for what you've given...and taken away.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Roasted Chicken with Lemon Potatoes
This recipe may be a little bit time consuming, but if you follow it step-by-step, it is very easy and makes the perfect 'Sunday Family Dinner' and is great for company.
Ingredients:
1 whole chicken*
1 medium bunch fresh basil leaves, thinly sliced
5 T softened (not melted) unsalted butter
2 lemons, zested (1 reserved)
5 garlic cloves, pressed or very thinly sliced
2 scallions, very thinly sliced
coarse sea salt and ground pepper
1 3/4 lbs medium fingerling potatoes*
2 T extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 bunch fresh Italian flat-leaf parsley
1) Preheat oven to 450 with rack set in middle. Remove any excess fat around chicken cavities and discard. Rinse chicken and pat dry, inside and out. Make sure to remove liver and gizzards if it's packaged inside (some are and some not).
2) In a small bowl, combine basil, butter, lemon zest, garlic, and scallions.
3) Starting at chicken's neck, slide hands under skin, carefully loosening skin on breasts and thighs. Spread butter mixture between loosened skin and meat; be careful not to tear skin. Rub hands over skin to spread mixture into crevices.
4) Season chicken inside and out with salt and pepper. In a large bowl, toss potatoes with olive oil, 1/2 t salt, and enough pepper to coat well. Cut reserved lemon into quarters and set aside.
5) Heat roasting pan in oven for 10 minutes. Remove; then put potatoes and any oil left in bowl into pan, keeping potatoes pushed to edges to make room for chicken. Place chicken in pan, breast-side up.
6) Roast chicken for 20 minutes, then remove pan from oven and turn bird breast-side down. Continue to roast for 20 more minutes, then removed from oven and turn bird breast-side up again. Sprinkle parsley over potatoes, then stir to coat with pan drippings. Squeeze reserved lemon over chicken and put rinds into pan. Continue to roast until juices run clear when thigh is pierced with a fork, or an instant-read thermometer inserted in breast reached 160...20-30 minutes.
7) Remove pan from oven; let chicken rest for 15 minutes before transferring to a cutting board. Let rest for 5 more minutes, then carve. Spoon pan juices over chicken; serve with potatoes and roasted lemon.
*I like to buy my chicken from Homeland-they have a whole chicken in a brand called Smart Chicken. It's a little pricier than a whole chicken from Walmart, but it's nice because it's not packaged in slimy water and they trim off most fat.
*Fingerling potatoes I also buy at Homeland. They come in a package in the produce section and I use the whole package.
Ingredients:
1 whole chicken*
1 medium bunch fresh basil leaves, thinly sliced
5 T softened (not melted) unsalted butter
2 lemons, zested (1 reserved)
5 garlic cloves, pressed or very thinly sliced
2 scallions, very thinly sliced
coarse sea salt and ground pepper
1 3/4 lbs medium fingerling potatoes*
2 T extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 bunch fresh Italian flat-leaf parsley
1) Preheat oven to 450 with rack set in middle. Remove any excess fat around chicken cavities and discard. Rinse chicken and pat dry, inside and out. Make sure to remove liver and gizzards if it's packaged inside (some are and some not).
2) In a small bowl, combine basil, butter, lemon zest, garlic, and scallions.
3) Starting at chicken's neck, slide hands under skin, carefully loosening skin on breasts and thighs. Spread butter mixture between loosened skin and meat; be careful not to tear skin. Rub hands over skin to spread mixture into crevices.
4) Season chicken inside and out with salt and pepper. In a large bowl, toss potatoes with olive oil, 1/2 t salt, and enough pepper to coat well. Cut reserved lemon into quarters and set aside.
5) Heat roasting pan in oven for 10 minutes. Remove; then put potatoes and any oil left in bowl into pan, keeping potatoes pushed to edges to make room for chicken. Place chicken in pan, breast-side up.
6) Roast chicken for 20 minutes, then remove pan from oven and turn bird breast-side down. Continue to roast for 20 more minutes, then removed from oven and turn bird breast-side up again. Sprinkle parsley over potatoes, then stir to coat with pan drippings. Squeeze reserved lemon over chicken and put rinds into pan. Continue to roast until juices run clear when thigh is pierced with a fork, or an instant-read thermometer inserted in breast reached 160...20-30 minutes.
7) Remove pan from oven; let chicken rest for 15 minutes before transferring to a cutting board. Let rest for 5 more minutes, then carve. Spoon pan juices over chicken; serve with potatoes and roasted lemon.
*I like to buy my chicken from Homeland-they have a whole chicken in a brand called Smart Chicken. It's a little pricier than a whole chicken from Walmart, but it's nice because it's not packaged in slimy water and they trim off most fat.
*Fingerling potatoes I also buy at Homeland. They come in a package in the produce section and I use the whole package.
Baked French Toast
I got this recipe from Metro Family Magazine last December. I made it for Christmas morning and our lives haven't been the same since. Try it and I promise your family will love it. If they don't...find a new family.
Ingredients:
1/2 loaf of day old french bread
6 large eggs
1 1/2 c milk
1 c heavy cream
1 t vanilla
1/4 t ground cinnamon
1/4 t ground nutmeg
1/2 c packed brown sugar
1/2 c softened (not melted) butter
1 T light corn syrup
1/2 c chopped pecans (optional)
The night before: cut bread into 1" thick slices and place in a buttered 9x13 baking pan. Don't use soft bread, the crustier, the better. Arrange slices in a single layer, over lapping as needed. In a mixing bowl, combine eggs, milk, cream, vanilla, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Pour the mixture over the bread, cover and refrigerate overnight.
In the morning: turn all bread slices over to make sure the egg mixture is thoroughly soaked into bread. Preheat oven to 350. Combine butter, brown sugar, nuts (optional), and syrup, then spread over tops of bread slices. Bake 40 minutes and serve warm. Top with a sprinkling of powered sugar, fresh berries and whipped cream.
Go ahead...slap yo' momma!
Ingredients:
1/2 loaf of day old french bread
6 large eggs
1 1/2 c milk
1 c heavy cream
1 t vanilla
1/4 t ground cinnamon
1/4 t ground nutmeg
1/2 c packed brown sugar
1/2 c softened (not melted) butter
1 T light corn syrup
1/2 c chopped pecans (optional)
The night before: cut bread into 1" thick slices and place in a buttered 9x13 baking pan. Don't use soft bread, the crustier, the better. Arrange slices in a single layer, over lapping as needed. In a mixing bowl, combine eggs, milk, cream, vanilla, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Pour the mixture over the bread, cover and refrigerate overnight.
In the morning: turn all bread slices over to make sure the egg mixture is thoroughly soaked into bread. Preheat oven to 350. Combine butter, brown sugar, nuts (optional), and syrup, then spread over tops of bread slices. Bake 40 minutes and serve warm. Top with a sprinkling of powered sugar, fresh berries and whipped cream.
Go ahead...slap yo' momma!
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Monday
Monday we went to the doctor for our first ultrasound. As I looked at the picture of this tiny baby, perfectly healthy looking, there was no movement...no heartbeat. At almost 11 weeks, the doctor said the baby only survived til 9 weeks before it slipped away. Call it mother's intuition or just plain worry, but from the beginning of this pregnancy I've been very anxious. I blamed it on not feeling the same as I felt with the boys or the fact that this baby was a surprise, but in a way, I knew something wasn't right. Although I know I didn't do anything to cause this, I've been struggling with guilt and racking my brain with what could have gone wrong. Why do these things happen? Why does God give us a blessing only to take it away a couple months later?
The doctor scheduled surgery for Monday evening since I hadn't miscarried the baby on my own yet. In a strange way, I didn't want to go through with it. I just felt like the baby was safe inside me where it needed to be and I wanted to keep him there as long as I could. I think waiting for it to happen on it's own was just postponing the inevitable and would probably be harder emotionally, so we opted for the surgery. As I woke up from anesthesia, I looked at Jon and very groggily said, "My baby is gone, isn't it?" With his eyes filled with tears, he could only whisper, "Yes."
I'm in mourning right now and I imagine that I will be for some time. I can tell that I am moving through the grieving process because I've passed unbelief to sadness and now the sadness is beginning to turn into anger. I'm angry with God. I'm angry with God for giving me this baby as a surprise if he knew what the outcome would be. I could've done without the whole thing. I'm angry that I had to tell my kids that our baby won't be coming home. I'm angry that my plans for the next six months have completely changed. I'm angry that my body failed me and my child. I'm angry that I did 11 weeks worth of "work" for nothing.
Through all this anger, I still see how God has protected me and blessed me. We surprised Jackson Monday morning by telling him he could go to the ultrasound with us and miss the first hour of school. For some strange reason, he said he didn't want to miss playtime and he'd rather go to the ultrasound when we were going to find out the sex of the baby. For anyone who knows Jack and how excited he has been about this baby, you know that is totally out of character. All I can say is that it was God protecting his little heart and his innocence. I'm thankful that in all my years of being a mother, that this is the first time this has happened. I have a new sense of compassion for women who have endured miscarriages over and over in hopes of just getting ONE baby. I'm thankful that I will be able to get pregnant again. I'm blessed to be in good company of many friends who have walked this path before and understand how lonely it feels. I'm thankful for so many friends and family who have shown their love for my family though meals, cards, flowers, caring for my children and praying for us. I'm grateful for my husband who has everyday sat down and listened to me talk about the same thing over and over because he knows it's crucial to me healing.
As with any tragedy, the world doesn't stop. All around is evidence that life goes on. I still have two children who need me and want my attention. The laundry needs to be done. I can button my pants again. Babies are conceived and babies are born. Bills have to be paid. We're out of milk, and...God is still on the throne...still in control...still faithful.
The doctor scheduled surgery for Monday evening since I hadn't miscarried the baby on my own yet. In a strange way, I didn't want to go through with it. I just felt like the baby was safe inside me where it needed to be and I wanted to keep him there as long as I could. I think waiting for it to happen on it's own was just postponing the inevitable and would probably be harder emotionally, so we opted for the surgery. As I woke up from anesthesia, I looked at Jon and very groggily said, "My baby is gone, isn't it?" With his eyes filled with tears, he could only whisper, "Yes."
I'm in mourning right now and I imagine that I will be for some time. I can tell that I am moving through the grieving process because I've passed unbelief to sadness and now the sadness is beginning to turn into anger. I'm angry with God. I'm angry with God for giving me this baby as a surprise if he knew what the outcome would be. I could've done without the whole thing. I'm angry that I had to tell my kids that our baby won't be coming home. I'm angry that my plans for the next six months have completely changed. I'm angry that my body failed me and my child. I'm angry that I did 11 weeks worth of "work" for nothing.
Through all this anger, I still see how God has protected me and blessed me. We surprised Jackson Monday morning by telling him he could go to the ultrasound with us and miss the first hour of school. For some strange reason, he said he didn't want to miss playtime and he'd rather go to the ultrasound when we were going to find out the sex of the baby. For anyone who knows Jack and how excited he has been about this baby, you know that is totally out of character. All I can say is that it was God protecting his little heart and his innocence. I'm thankful that in all my years of being a mother, that this is the first time this has happened. I have a new sense of compassion for women who have endured miscarriages over and over in hopes of just getting ONE baby. I'm thankful that I will be able to get pregnant again. I'm blessed to be in good company of many friends who have walked this path before and understand how lonely it feels. I'm thankful for so many friends and family who have shown their love for my family though meals, cards, flowers, caring for my children and praying for us. I'm grateful for my husband who has everyday sat down and listened to me talk about the same thing over and over because he knows it's crucial to me healing.
As with any tragedy, the world doesn't stop. All around is evidence that life goes on. I still have two children who need me and want my attention. The laundry needs to be done. I can button my pants again. Babies are conceived and babies are born. Bills have to be paid. We're out of milk, and...God is still on the throne...still in control...still faithful.
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