Memory tree

Memory tree
Holding the blossom on our Memory tree, a Pink Dogwood, to always remember the tiny life we lost.

Monday, February 1, 2016


I've not written here, or much of anywhere in a very long time.

Though I've not written, things have been in motion. Things are always in motion.

I am now 30 weeks, 6 days pregnant with our 4th child. Altho in my heart, this is our 5th child. I have shared 4 birth stories here, in this blog. Even tho it has been used for little else, I felt this post necessary to place here.

Tomorrow marks 31 weeks. 31 weeks is always a huge milestone for me in pregnancy, because our Jorden was born at 31 weeks. I was discussing the trauma of his birth with another Mama this evening. A Mama who sadly understands the trauma as she has been through something much the same, and is also awaiting another child.

This part of pregnancy always gives me pause. This time more than the others because it has borne so many similarities to my first pregnancy. Similar cravings, a slow rise in blood pressure readings, it's a boy.

Confession time- having another boy has been terrifying. My experiences with my son...
Not just his birth, altho that is where it started. The last 10.5 years have stretched me in ways I did not believe possible. Perhaps comparable to Wesley on the "machine" in the Princess Bride, the sound of ultimate suffering. I have felt it. I have felt it in the pain of my own child, struggling with mental illness. I am not talking about simple ADHD, Autism, or even mild depression. I am talking a young child, with psychotic rages.

Where the Lord has directed our steps, has been to seek healing. Healing, not medication. This has been a long and lonely road. A road not often traveled. Overgrown with dense foliage, holes, and fallen logs to block the path. Some days it's felt quite like walking through Mirkwood, with only slight glimpses that the sun still exists.

It is not a simple task for me to bare my soul. I feel like it is a whine, and we should not whine. But things must be spoken lest darkness overtake me. I have been afraid.

I have been afraid to love my unborn son. A son. My son.

I've always felt the baby we lost to be a boy. I was not afraid to love him. But we lost him. It amazes me still how the events of the past shape the way we approach the future.

I have been afraid to name this baby, or rather to speak his name. His name means strong. In my mind, that means he will face trials. Trials I cannot protect him from. Trials I have no control over. At the heart of it all, that is where the fear lies. It lies in what I cannot control. I can choose to nourish my body to support a healthy pregnancy, but in the end, I cannot control what my body does. I cannot control who this baby is, or what he will face. I cannot shield him. As I watch him dance in my belly, he is safe. Part of me wants him to remain there forever so that he can always be safe. But he will never truly be safe until I lay aside my own fears, and choose to trust in Papa's plan for this little boys' life. Until I learn to trust in Papa's plan for my own life, and the lives of all of my children. Though our road has been hard to travel, it has not been without blessing.

My childs name, is Ethan Abraham. His strength will flow from the very throne of heaven, not from within himself. Though I cannot protect him, there is truly no safer place for him to be, than to walk the road that Papa has set before his feet.

As I type this I have wiped tears from my eyes more times than I can even count. I am reminded that this level of trusting in Papa's plan goes far deeper than the child in my belly. I have spent the last 5 years in the dirty trenches of seeking for answers, and for healing for my sick child. All the while finding healing for myself when I didn't think the wounds still had healing left to do.

The relationship with my eldest son is healing. On both sides. I am learning to let go and trust Papa, as is he learning the same. Trust is not easy for me, but I am learning.

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