Celebrating & Grief

First things first. Thank you so much for all of your prayers and messages. They have been felt and witnessed in so many ways that I hope to share today. This is a bit of a lengthy post so thanks for indulging me as I need to share my heart. I must start with Friday night. My in-laws said they would like to come and watch the kids so Jason and I could go out alone. It was so good. We celebrated that little life lost. We laughed, cried, and just were. We had a great dinner and then saw a movie...good for my heart. Heading to bed that night I wept. I mourned in the quiet of our room...just Jason and I...mourning the thought of never being pregnant again...mourning the thought that I was just sorry it happened and there was NOTHING I could do about it...mourning the "what if's" the questions we don't have to know the answers to yet. Like: What if this was our 4th. Maybe God had called us to raise 3 but have 4. Mourning. My sweet husband just letting me cry. Each of us letting the other handle this in the way that is unique to both of us. Saturday was a day of life celebration. See...Hope Elizabeth (our 3rd) turned one! What?!!! She is ONE! Oh my goodness. We had a few friends and family gathered that afternoon for food and festivities. I was so thankful for that day. Someone commented about the sweet timing of this all! I totally agree. We got to celebrate life the day after we learned of our littlest ones passing! God's grace in that was just that...gracious. I really feel like I was able to celebrate Hope that day. I wasn't grieving our glory baby (what I have begun to refer to this little one as)...I was in the moment celebrating her first year of life with our friends and family. That night there was just a river of tears flowing. It was some of that from the very depth of you weeping. Grief. I have found that there are moments when I can just speak of this and not get choked up at all...and then other moments where the sorrow will just overflow right on out of my tear ducts. I am trying to be authentic in my grief. Meaning if I feel it coming (like I did when I was hugging my chiropractor today...yikes) then I am just gonna let it come...but if I'm doing good...I promise I am not putting up a front and trying to "be strong". Sunday...a time for worship. It was so good. I anticipated that this might be a little emotional for me...worship usually is (shocker)...but then we got to the 3rd song...and the weeping began. I was right next to Jason (that doesn't always get to happen with his role on Sundays) I just laid my head on his shoulder, raised my hands in the air and wept...it was going to be my last day with this little one. My last day to hold it. Let me pause here to say a few things about what I was wrestling with in my heart and mind. See we have some dear friends of ours who the wife is a social worker in Labor and Delivery at a local hospital. She called on Friday night and asked me several questions I wasn't prepared for or even thought possible for that matter. I am going to share what she did...in case there is someone out there who might want to know these things too. She asked these hard and wonderful questions. *Did I want to hold the baby? *Did I want to take pictures? *Did I want to have feet/hand prints done? *Did I want to talk about cremation? What? This totally caught me off guard. I didn't think any of thins kind of a thing was possible with only having carried this one 9 weeks. I had thought those that have carried babies further than me and lost them this would be possible...but not this early. She said she had held an 8 weaker...what? Oh my goodness. I began to wrestle with this. Now she works at a hospital where this might be more possible than at a surgery center where I would be. Jason and I wanted to handle this in the way that was right for us. Not everyone. We knew we would have one chance to handle this process with this child...we didn't want any regrets. My mom gave me some great words as we processed this. She said, "Honey if you can't physically in your hand hold this baby don't worry about that. You HAVE been holding this baby for 9 weeks in the most intimate way anyone ever could...within you...as close to your heart as you ever would be able to...you HAVE been holding this baby. Ahhh I needed to hear that. Ultimately, where I landed was this. I am a very visual person who has struggled with nightmares my whole life. I didn't want to ask to hold the baby because I didn't want to give Satan any opportunity to turn this beautiful thing into a nightmare. BUT...I did want to ask if they could do the footprints of the baby. I went and bought some simple white linen paper and an ink pad...ready to ask...but okay if they say it wasn't possible. Sunday night my mother-in-law came back over to spend the night. As I walked upstairs with the meds in my hand to begin the process...I wept in her arms saying "I don't want to do this. I don't want to say good-bye. I hate that this is happening." I went upstairs. Wept more with Jason over the reality of saying good-bye...facing tomorrow...wanting to be brave and courageous...not fearful of the process...I took the meds and fell asleep weeping. I am thankful for the moments when I would wake and praise songs would be going through my head as I fell in and out of slumber. That was a gracious thing from our Lord. Monday morning came. We headed out to the surgery center...I hadn't thought about the other grieving women that would be there that morning. I was filled with prayer for them and their husbands as they were about to endure something awful too. Let me say that while this was an awful part...there was such a graciousness of our Lord to care for me through strangers. Those of you who are in the medical profession...thank you for realizing that some of life just flat out sucks and acknowledging it. So when I went in (the first one of the day) the nurse right off the bat as I was getting ready to sign some papers said "I am so sorry you are here today." Just saying that was filled with such compassion for us and what we were going through HUGE! Then I have to sign a paper that has the most awful word on it (missed abortion) she says again to me "I just want you to know this is a medical term and it is just awful it just means that you had a miscarriage. I am sorry that is the word." Again, her acknowledgment of the situation was HUGE. Then she gives me the clothes to change into and says "Oh I don't like those gowns...let me get you my favorite kind." What...she didn't have to do that...but the Lord had prepared her in advance for what I would need that day and whether or not she was a believer she followed her intuition to say certain things and have her actions match that. She wasn't the only one. The anesthesiologist came over and also said, "I'm so sorry for why you are here today. (but then he would crack a joke) but I've got some great meds for you. You're gonna take a great nap and we will take care of you and it will all be okay." Amazing care...thank you. Next my sweet sweet doctor came to see us. He asked if I had questions. I had a couple and one being about the footprints. He smiled and let me know that the baby really didn't have the information yet to have those fully so that wouldn't be an option. I was at peace with that. I am so glad I asked though. Then we asked about the remains. He said they would be sent to a lab to be analyzed and then would be cremated. That was so peaceful for me to think about. Then we asked if he would pray with us. He said absolutely. The 3 of us held hands, Jason prayed, and we all cried. Thankful for that moment. I was then taken back...had to climb onto the table myself. Didn't really expect that. I found myself thankful that my eyesight is so bad because then I could really make out all the details of the operating room...They were all still so careful with me...so kind. I began to weep. I didn't expect that. Oxygen...kind words in my ear...my doc squeezing my feet...and I was asleep. That might have been more information for you than you wanted. But this is cathartic for me to share. I don't know who is reading. Several of you have (in unexpected ways) commented that you didn't know how our story was already helping you to grieve some loss in your life...or draw you nearer to our Lord...sweet Jesus...that our little glory baby might draw not only us closer to you but total strangers...well then I will be obedient and share my heart...my honest, raw heart. In parting for today...and I know it's been a longish read...I share this. With each of our children we have chosen verses and songs for them. I believe I have shared about the verses before...Jason chose the girls. I chose Wyatt's and now this little ones song. Once we've chosen the verse I will share that as well. Caroline's verse: Ps 86:11 "Teach me your way and I will walk in your truth. Give me an undivided heart and I will fear your name." Her song: well can you guess "Sweet Caroline" by Neil Diamond Wyatt's verse: 1 Chronicles 4:10 "O that you would bless me indeed and enlarge my territory. That your hand would be with me. That you would keep from evil that I may not cause pain." His song: from The Four Seasons "Can't Take my Eyes Off of You" Hope's verse: Colossians 3:23 "Whatever you do work at it with all your heart as working for the Lord and not for men." Her song: by Bruno Mars "Just the Way You Are" #4's song: A friend (Thank you Emily) in a post reminded me of a song I knew way back when and it is a perfect song for our littlest. by the old group Watermark (Christy and Nathan Nockels) "Glory Baby" If you haven't heard this song it is a must listen...especially if you too have lost a little life. Blessings dear readers. Blessings to those of you who have lost a child...grieved their going...and celebrated their life no matter how short...continue in that process...the grieving and the celebrating. I am.

And So We Choose to Celebrate

Dear readers...

This morning at my 9 week update we discovered that our littlest one's heart has stopped beating.

I was in for my routine 9 week ultrasound (I have several due to my Type 1 Diabetes). I had brought Wyatt with me because we were going to have a date afterward. I was helping him with something on my phone when I looked at my sweet sweet doctor. He was quiet...looking. I said, "Is everything alright?" He grimaced and turned the screen toward me. I knew immediately. I said, "Oh there isn't a heart beat." He said, "No there isn't Allison, I am so sorry."

Side bar. I have thought about this scenario before. What will I do when someone tells me horrible, terrible news. I have thought often about Michelle Duggar (I am a fan) and the episode that they showed of them discovering they had lost Jubilee. Her first words were in praise to the Lord. I wanted to be this kind of woman. I want my response to the tragedies of life to be praise for and toward our Lord.

I am thankful that the first words out of my mouth were. "Thank you Lord. I am thankful you love this little baby more than we do."

My sweet sweet doctor is a believer. He would just squeeze my leg or foot. He explained that by the size he believes it was at about 8 weeks 4 days. That would've been last Sunday. A great day to go home to glory. You must know I believe that. I believe this child had a soul even in this tiny form. I had already seen and heard the heart beat at 6 weeks 2 days on my first ultrasound. Honestly, I am so thankful I heard my child's heart and saw it even if I will never feel it's beating in this life.

After the nurse left I started crying even more. I looked at my doctor who too had tears in his eyes. He said how sorry he was. I told him how thankful I am that he is a believer. Somehow it makes it easier in that moment. I told him how thankful I was that he was the one telling us and not someone else. I am thankful for the body of Christ.

When we got home we got Caroline and Wyatt together and shared with them that sometimes things happen that are sad and that we have no control over. The doctor told Mommy at her appointment that the babies heart had stopped beating. Now the baby lived with Jesus. My tummy won't get big. We won't bring a baby home from the hospital. They said ok. Then asked when do we get to have another baby? Later in the car Caroline asked this sweet question. "Momma when the baby is in heaven will it look like a baby?" I don't know. I believe we will know each other. Someday. I will know my baby. What it looks like...boy/girl? Our hugs will just have to wait a while to that time in glory.

It is heartbreaking. Yet I will celebrate. I have to. I have to choose this option in the my mourning of my child. Tonight we are going as a family to dinner to celebrate this life. Our kids don't necessarily know why we celebrate...but some day I will explain it again and they will understand. This was a life. A life worth celebrating.

I will have a DNC on Monday morning if it doesn't happen over the weekend. I would covet your prayers for that procedure.

I know many many women have had this happen. I am thankful that to this point this is our first time going through this experience. I will as usual try to be honest about what I am going through. Anticipating that the Lord might just use this to comfort another grieving heart.

I am thankful we chose to tell all of you in the earliest days. Knowing that if we should ever go through this...there would be this community to wrap their arms around us and pray. So...thank you. We are going to celebrate. Join us.

Deuteronomy 29:29 "The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever."

Media Removed...Hello Wyatt

There are things that I think I knew about my kids...and perhaps kids in general. Somehow...in the midst of a hard time with one of them I feel like I forget those things that seem intuitive. So...I thought about whether or not to share...thinking you might say "I know this." But perhaps there is one of you out there who reads this that this idea might make a difference in your little one.

I often find myself saying to my children..."This is my job. It is my job to protect you that's why I don't want you playing in the front yard with out an adult." OR "It is my job to protect you that's why I don't want you jumping off the back of the couch onto your baby sister. It's not safe for either of you." But I didn't take into account sometimes about the mind.

I work very hard to create an environment here at home that hopefully is peaceful, playful, and filled with the opportunity to praise (each other and the Lord). In my efforts to also find the uniqueness of each child and meet those needs be it with discipline, words, time, touch, stories, fun....sometimes the balance gets out of whack.

If you have read any of my previous posts about our dear Wyatt Christopher you know he is all boy. He is 3. He loves to laugh and have fun...and he is testing us with his anger and lack of self-control. In my last post I mentioned that a new sheriff had arrived and we were going to try to teach him to gain some self-control and thrive. While there was remarkable improvement right away...I realized that if I had heard some of his answers to me from other kids to their parents I would think that the kid might be running the show. The spoon began to travel in the diaper bag...I would lay out my expectations before a specific situation...and still although no on the floor kicks, screams, or even all out bursts of tears...there was an underlying growl that seemed to still be surfacing. There was not an acknowledging of disappointment filled with obedient action. He was still saying "NO" and maybe crossing his arms. The HEART issue was still around.

Now...I don't know if you have ever noticed in your children that when they have had a few days of too much TV that their behavior is rough shall we say. I notice it. That is why on most days (not Sat or Sun am) there is one 30 min show that they watch as we are winding down for the night. I totally see a correlation between their behavior and how much TV they are allowed to watch.

This is when the light bulb went off for me. You might be saying "Oh I could've told you that..." well I figured it out for me...and maybe it will help you too.

One way I have mentioned in a previous post that we had tried to make going to potty fun for Wyatt was when he went he got to play "Cars 2" on my phone. He would go squeeze out a few drops just at the thought that he might get to play. He would manipulate situations to get to play more. He would pitch fits when it was time for it to end...but by golly it got him on the potty. Here's the light bulb. That phone was wrecking havoc on my boy. He is good at that game. He replays it in his mind. He will recount moves he's made on that game to me like he is living a race himself. I think he was so jacked up on adrenaline rushes...that he needed another "fix" and he would do what was necessary to get that adrenaline rush of a fix. I really believe the Lord laid this idea on my heart. I mentioned it to Jason and said I would like to just try removing this from his day and see if there was any change. Honestly, at this point there was nothing to loose.

That night while tucking Wyatt in Jason and I TOGETHER (that is key I think) talked with him. I told him that Daddy and I had made a decision that we knew he wasn't going to like. We also told him that there were going to be lots of decisions in his life that we would make that maybe he wouldn't understand, that he might be mad with, that would disappoint him...BUT that it was our job to protect him and do what is best for him. We told him that he would no longer be able to play on my phone for anything until we could see him choose to have self-control and respect for those around him. We still expected him to go potty and we could find a different kind of reward...but the phone was not an option any more. He hung his head. There was no fit. There was no push back. He understood.

The next day he did ask in the morning. I reminded him about the conversation daddy and I had with him the night before. He hung his head, grabbed his lovie, and was clearly sad. BUT...there was no fit.

I need to tell you dear reader that I feel like I have my boy back. I hadn't realized how affected he had become from playing a few min at a time a few times a day...it was robbing us of Wyatt. The change has been utterly remarkable I think. Now, this is not to say that we still haven't had a spank or two in there...or a few times up in his room to calm down. But this is NORMAL 3 year old behavior as opposed to the unchecked 3 year old that seemed to be taking over my boy.

Reader...be willing to protect your child even when you know they aren't going to like what you are going to do. It is our job. Have courage. You are in charge. They are not.

You are doing a good work and you can not come down. I hope this has been helpful. Blessings to you dear sweet moms as you are shaping these sweet sweet lives.

A New Sheriff is in Town

First of all let me apologize for the lack of writing. I usually accomplish this task during naps in the afternoon...but as of late I am exhausted with this pregnancy already and am using this time to snooze a bit myself. I also want you to know dear reader that I won't write unless there is something to write about. At the beginning of this process I thought I would try to write 4ish times a week...I am amazed at those "bloggers" who actually have something to say daily. I won't write unless I think it helpful...the Lord lays something on my heart...or Wyatt does something hilarious! Ha!

So for today's post.

There is a new sheriff in town folks. We have been experiencing some of that 3 year old anger, not getting your way, want it my way, angst in this house. It seemed to start little...thought we could "talk" about it...mention the alternative if he didn't change the behavior and then move forward. It wasn't working. You know it seems like it just sneaks up on me sometimes. I will think I have a handle on something...we are moving forward...then I realize...Oh crap! My child is really struggling in the midst of their humanness...sinful nature. Fast forward in my brain 10 years and this is a holy terror of a teen ager who is yelling the "B" word at me as he slams his door.

Now that might seem a bit extreme...but what does anger/temper tantrum look like on a 13 year old? I don't know...don't want to know...thankful for my imagination to serve as a motivator to nip this in the bud (it is bud right?...not butt?).

I have known for a few days something had to give. Then when we got home from small group last night and our sweet sitter gave us the run down...his 4 times on the floor crying over what seems nothing was unacceptable...the kicking...no sir. So Jason and I pow wowed together (this is key reader...I often think I can do this alone I can think of the punishment alone...but including your spouse if you are able is huge...you are both on the same page and I can let the child involved know that we are both on the same page and we decided this together) and came up with the punishment.

I made a specific effort to make sure I was up, prayed, journaled, and felt "covered" for what I was anticipating could be a very difficult day with the new sheriff that is. After breakfast I told Wyatt that we needed to have a conversation and he needed to come with me to the stairs. He was so very compliant. We sat on the stairs and I asked him about his night with the sitter. He told me about it honestly. I asked him if he thought that behavior was acceptable. He said no. I told him that daddy and I had decided he would loose the privilege of watching a show tonight and tomorrow and he would be getting spanks for his behavior last night. Then I explained to him that I made a mistake for not handling this sooner and letting this go on too long until it seemed it was out of control. I apologized for not taking care of it sooner and told him that from here on out, there would be no stomping of his foot, kicking, yelling "But Mommy", or "No Mommy" any kind of disrespect it would be an immediate spank. If he lost it just because something didn't go his way with a sibling or whatever the anger would need to be taken to his room to be dealt with there. I asked if he understood. Had him repeat it to me. Then spanked him for last night.

Then here's the crucial part. I throw my arms around him immediately and begin smothering him with kisses and I love you's! This is one of the things I remember most from my mom's discipline...the I Love You's. Hopefully he will too.

So I am happy to report there have only been two more trips to the stairs and on a few occasions when he realized he had self control he would look at me and say in his precious voice, "Mommy, I didn't kick or stomp this time!" We celebrated and high fived!

Kids love boundaries. He is actually thriving today in a different kind of way than I have seen in awhile with him. He can be angry...just not disrespectful in his anger.

This takes time. Lots of time. Which honestly is a lovely thing about getting to be a stay at home mom...I have LOTS of time with them. What are you spending your time on with your children dear reader. Sometimes I find myself spending time with them...but not "ON" them...It is my job to ready them for the world. If this is left unchecked in my son he will be a horrible employee...horrible husband and father...that isn't acceptable to me.

Another prayer this morning was that I would also be able to catch him in several ways to praise him today. That has happened. Thanks Lord for meeting the Hodges crew where we are at today...filling the gaps...shining through.

Take the time. Their future will thank you.

The Chief

A story of how a father loves a daughter...

I had grown up performing at an awesome outdoor theater called Shawnee Mission Theater in the Park. Four musicals would be put on each summer. We could have crowds of up to 3,000 on a big night. It was a great training ground for a young aspiring actor,singer, dancer.

The first show I did was "Annie", playing one of the orphans. My mom (Grace), my aunt (Miss Hannigan), and my grandfather (FDR) all did the show together. It was an Unruh extravaganza...I loved doing shows w/ my mom. In the beginning it was such a great parenting move. It allowed me to do the thing I wanted in a not so potentially safe environment w/ my mom still around. We later did "Anything Goes", "Big River", and "Fiddler on the Roof" together...loved it.

After awhile the theater realized what a great director my mom was and she was hired to begin directing...I still auditioned for shows. The first one I did w/o mom was "Bye Bye Birdie"...such a great time before I left for college. The summer after my freshman year I was cast as Maggie in "A Chorus Line". This was great on so many levels...but honestly I won't remember the rehearsals, dance steps, notes or dialogue as much as I will remember forever how my dad loved me.

One night in performance week I was backstage before the show getting ready, and the director came back and yelled in the dressing room "Maggie get out here." (Now side note, when we were at the theater he rarely called me Allison, always was calling us by our character names). I thought I was about to get notes...or I had done something wrong the previous night...he pulled me over to the edge of the backstage area and said stand here and look that way.

Excuse me...what?

Let me pause to share something about my character...each character has an opportunity to step forward in the show and have a monologue and song. I shared mine with 2 other characters. The song is called "At the Ballet". My particular character shared that her dad ran out on she and her mom when she came home from the hospital with the baby. So as she (Maggie) grew up she would imagine herself dancing around the living room with her arms stretched up high with her dad who was an Indian Chief. He would look at her and say "Maggie would you like to dance?"

So I am standing at the edge of the backstage looking toward this ridge row of trees...it is sunset...I see a figure in the trees. He begins to walk towards me. It is really a long way off. I am confused and the director just keeps telling me to stand there. What I don't realize that has happened behind me is that the entire cast and crew have gathered to watch. As the figure continues to walk toward me I realize that it is indeed an Indian Chief. And of course it is my dad....the introvert...the melancholy...I am crying...He is COMPLETE costume...make up, head dress...he rented it from a local costume company...he approaches me and says, "Maggie would you like to dance?"

We did.

Everyone around us is crying and can't believe this most beautiful moment.

My dad, even though very different in personality...got me...gets me...he took a risk of looking silly...to meet me where I was at. He blew me away. I danced with my dad for several minutes back stage and next to dancing with him at my wedding (which was another incredible moment you might have read on the blog) this is one of the most precious moments I have had with my dad.

What a great parenting moment. My dad loved me well that day.

From that day on any time I did a show I would get flowers from my dad for opening night that said something great but would always be signed from "The Chief"....

Go love on your kids. Get in their world and ask them to dance.

*wishing I had a digital version of this easily available...instead this will have to do.