The Merry Go Round

We had this really amazing home nurse named Terri a few years ago when our son Cooper was first sick.  She came once a week to change his PICC dressing, check vitals and make sure he was doing ok at home.  (Eventually she taught me to do this myself).  I was so overwhelmed with a newborn and a newly diagnosed (Primary Immune Deficiency)  son who was fighting an EBV infection. Life had been a whirlwind for a few weeks between hospital stays and learning to flush IV lines.  Friends were bringing us meals, sending cards and calling to check in, and then suddenly life went back to normal… for everyone else.  And I was so isolated and lonely.

I told Terri about it one day.  You see, Nurse Terri’s daughter was a college student in the middle of battling lymphoma at the same time that she was being our nurse.  (Can you imagine?) She was so good for me.  I needed someone in my life who understood the terrifying moment I was in.  She more than understood.  She told me how life was like a “Merry Go Round.”  We are all on it going around and around until a tragedy strikes, then we get off.  A few friends may get off with us for a while but there comes a day when they have to get back on…back to their own lives.  But you have to stay off until you’re ready to get back on.  It is unrealistic to expect everyone to stay off with you.  But one day you are ready to jump back on…and get back into your new “normal.”

I have thought about this analogy so many times.  Maybe it isn’t really that earth shattering for you, but for me it was very true.  It was true when Cooper was sick, it was true when my Grandma was dying. It was true when my mom was battling cancer last year….and it is true today.  When we are grief -stricken or terrified for the future, whatever the cause I know I kinda want time to stand still for everyone else too…I don’t want to miss anything and I don’t want to feel isolated. I have learned first hand, however, and observed in others that we are really the only ones who can walk the path before us.  Does that make any sense?  We all have our own personal journey.  Don’t get me wrong, I am so thankful that God made us relational beings who need each other, because I don’t know what I’d do without my friends and family. But, we all experience things in life differently.  God has used all of these twists and turns in my life to make me who I am today.

Throughout this past month I know hundreds of friends and acquaintances have been praying for me.  You’ve been sending me messages and notes, texts and phone calls and flowers. I feel so loved and cared for.  Those closest to me have endured hours of rambling about all my fears and have watched my kids for countless hours.  My parents have picked my kids up from school for me so many times because of all the appointments.  I am so thankful.  Our world has briefly stood still around here as we held our breath and waited for test results.

My lung and liver tumors both showed signs of being benign.  Combined with the fact that I have no apparent symptoms to these tumors they will be re-scanned in 3 months.  My breast biopsy Monday came back benign thankfully.  I have some atypical cells and was asked to consider a “chemo-prevention” pill I’d take for some amount of years (sounds too scary).  And of course I am also considering prophylactic surgery since I keep having these problems,  (this was my 6th breast biopsy). All of these things are full of risks and I’m not sure what I’ll do honestly. Lastly, I am having a bone scan this coming week to look at the tumors in my bones.  This is the only thing that has actually been causing me pain.  I have had chronic pain in my hips for the last year.  I was sure I had arthritis or a herniated disk.  I do have disk degeneration but the tumors are a bit more worrisome.  The doctor said a bone biopsy is probably in the works. Either way, it appears that the tumors are causing me the pain. I am ready to get answers, but I’m not sure I really want to know any more…

So, while we hang out off the “Merry Go Round” for a while, I am so thankful for how God has prepared us for this moment.  We have been through other circumstances that have prepared us for this one.  I’m thankful that we are not crushed, by this current affliction. We are not driven to despair.  This reminds me of 2 Corinthians 4:7-18… (take some time to read the whole thing if you can, but keep in mind, Paul is referencing being persecuted for your faith. It just reminds me of how our bodies are temporary and yet we are living for eternity).

“… Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison. as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.” -v. 16-18

The stranger I cried with at Walmart today….

Today at Walmart, I was scanning my few items in the self checkout and noticed a young mama behind me trying to scan her stuff and hold a screaming baby. Her little guy looked to be about two years old and was doing his best to get out of her arms while kicking and screaming “Down” at the top of his little lungs.

In my heart I felt her despair and stopped scanning my own stuff, turned around and asked if I could scan her cart so she could hold her baby.  I noticed tears streaming down her face and rather than holding it together and being strong…I broke down and cried with her….for her…for me…not exactly sure why I couldn’t stop crying.  I just kept telling her the things I always wanted to hear:

1. Your child’s tantrum isn’t bothering anyone else. (Most of the other people around you are parents too and they all understand).

2. He is not as loud as you think he is. (When you are the mom whose kid is screaming, it seems like everyone in the whole store is annoyed with you).

3. It’s hard to go to the store with kids whether you have 1 or 5 with you.  (Not every single time, but I think every mom has at least one terrible experience).

4. It’s okay to cry about it in the middle of the store (this was also for my benefit as I was full on tears at this point also).

I also shared with her that this has happened to me many, many times and I really wished someone had helped me instead of the many other responses I have received over the years. Often our “kid meltdowns” are met with unsolicited advice, eye rolling, laughter, or comments usually pertaining to how I have too many kids. She seemed very thankful.  I am not sure if I freaked her out or really made her day, but I know I did what I was supposed to do.  I felt compelled to help her and instead of giving in to the little voice of fear in my own head, I chose to take a risk and perhaps be a blessing to someone.  I seriously went to my van and cried for 10 more minutes over the whole situation.  It solidified to me that I really want to be a mom who empowers other moms and doesn’t hold them back. If this is one little baby step toward ending a “mommy war” mentality that has crept into our culture, then I am happy to take it.

Handing Him Over

It’s April, and in between two of my kid’s birthdays it’s sort of a somber background noise of remembering one of the greatest losses our family has experienced. I have an interesting time in April every year taking time to remember our son we lost, while trying to celebrate our children whose birthdays happen at the same time who are very much alive.  We make sure to remember and talk about him and visit his grave. My mom always does a great job decorating it with beautiful “baby” flowers. It’s hard to believe he would have been 8 years old this year.  I wrote about the whole thing here last year, but today, for some reason, I have been thinking about the moment we had to hand our little Riley’s body over to the nurses when it was time for us to leave the hospital.

I had three miscarriages before I had Riley (two with D & C’s) and had definitely experienced the horrific feeling of loss when you know that when you wake up your baby will not be with you anymore and these are your last few minutes with your baby.  The whole idea is so uncomfortable for me.  Because miscarriage is so common, there is a lot of pressure to take it all in stride.  To not be too emotional.  I didn’t even know for a few years that two of my tiniest babies are buried in a mass grave that the hospital provides at the local cemetery. I believe it is written inside a thin pamphlet they give you when you leave.

On a side note, I think hospitals are just so unsure of how to handle the loss of  early miscarriages.  Many mothers are not interested in hearing the burial information.  Many are not sure what they are feeling at the time of loss.  Some are conflicted because the pain of knowing and really experiencing the grief may just be too much to handle.  So they just say nothing. It is quiet, it is pretty fast.  It is never hardly spoken of again. I believe many women suffer this type of loss in silence because they can’t wrap their brain around why they are grieving the loss of a child that they never held or knew.  They feel ridiculous for mourning when so many other women have suffered the same outcome.  I know I did.  Like with many other circumstances in life, we wrongly look around and compare how someone else dealt with it and we believe we should be like them.  We also belittle our suffering by comparing ourselves to people who lost a baby later and think “at least it wasn’t that bad” and the whole cycle of suffering in silence continues.  Sometimes sadly, you voice your pain to someone and they share how easy it was for them which only makes you feel worse.  I am so thankful that I was able to mourn those losses without too much shame. I knew from my family members and many friends that an early loss is still a loss and in the end I would heal better for really embracing it. I will say that I have known many other women who seem to genuinely not be as emotionally affected by their miscarriage, I don’t fault them. We are all so different in how we grieve.  Some people accept the idea of death in general more easily than others.  

When I got to my second trimester with Riley, delivered him early, and held him as he died, it was an oppressing feeling of grief.  I had grieved the previous losses, but this was so real.  Laying in my arms real.  In many ways more painful, and in many ways more wonderful because we really got to feel and process those hard emotions and no one expected anything different.

It was more wonderful because of his name.  He was a boy and we named him Riley Alexander!  I never named the other babies I lost real early.  We were never able to get the pathology testing on them due to lab errors both times.  I never even had a feeling if they were a boy or girl, so I didn’t name them.  I have a hard time with that and it’s been 10 years.  I didn’t know how to name them, and it feels strange to do it now especially since there are so many.  His birth was also wonderful because of what he looked like.  It is a miracle to see a baby who is 15 weeks old and looks so perfect.  Seeing his tiny fingers and toes and his adorable nose!  I was in awe and I was in love with him.  He was so TINY.  I wish I would’ve had a good digital phone camera 8 years ago, the few we took with our blackberries were so dark and the one the hospital took was so formal looking with him lying on a white satin pillow with a blue bow that practically screamed death. I don’t ever want to show that to anyone.  I want to remember him wrapped up in the pink and blue striped hospital baby blanket that all my other kids were wrapped up in at their birth.  While I was admitted on the maternity floor, I just didn’t have a camera with me at the time to get good pictures.  If I had those pictures, you better believe I would share them.  I was only in my second trimester and yet he was a very real baby.

We spent the whole day holding him.   They hung a special bear on our door alerting the incoming nurses that our baby hadn’t lived.  We were allowed to leave after about 12 hours, but I did not want to leave him at all.  How could I walk away and leave him there?  With the other babies, I was asleep, I obviously didn’t get to see them and I was very ready to leave. But with Riley, I wanted to remember everything about him, what he looked like, what he smelled like and never forget anything .  I got to raise my other children and this was the only day we had with Riley. But, we had to leave.  It was in fact, our 7 year old daughter’s birthday that day and we needed to get back to her since we were now able to.  We weren’t allowed to stay any longer anyway.  Walking away leaving him laying in the bassinet was nearly impossible. Driving home in silence, with tears that wouldn’t stop was awful.  But, I would do it all over again since I had at least one day with him.  It was unbelievably hard, but his life was validated.  Not by a real birth certificate, even though he was born alive, but in my heart, with our own eyes.

We buried him later that week in his own grave. That was an entirely different difficult experience.   We had to hand him over again.  Forever.  I will never forget the smell of the dirt that rainy spring day.  When I smell dirt, it is immediately what I think about.  Not in a “bring me to tears immediately way” like it did at first, but in a “remembering” way.  It felt so cold and wrong to leave him there alone.  (And that is because it is wrong.  Death is wrong.  It is not what God desired for us to experience when he created us.  It is exactly why we just celebrated Easter!  Thankfully Jesus died for us and conquered death for us all so that we can live forever together again some day in Heaven – Praise Him!)

I hope women will read my story and the many others shared online, and their grief will feel validated.  I hope they will not continue to suffer in silence. I hope they will name their babies, and mourn their babies so that they can freely remember them without shame. I hope women will read my story and reconsider when a life begins, and how easily we believe the lie that this tiny human is not his own entity.  I know stories like mine have existed for years.  I have several women in my life who have shared their awful experiences with me.  I hope that the accessibility of the internet will allow everyone to hear those stories and not wait until you are in this secret sad sorority of mothers who have buried their babies.

Remembering

An orchid from her funeral. She loved flowers and every time it blooms I know she would’ve loved it.

Two years ago last night, I prayed over, prayed with, cried with, read Bible verses to, sang hymns with and slept on a cot beside my Mamaw as she slowly let go of her life here with us over a few days.  It was the most surreal and eternal experience, but deeply sad.  It was overshadowed by joy that her immense pain was about to come to an end.  I’ve only felt that deep sadness and longing a few times in my life, all surrounding the death of someone I had loved dearly. Mostly I just relive those last three weeks (and the last year) in my mind wondering if I had figured it out sooner or gone with her to appointments, would things be different?

She was 80 years old.  For the previous few weeks she had been hospitalized due to significant blood loss and subsequent heart failure as a complication from her metastatic Breast Cancer. She had fought IDC 12 years previous to this return. Being the strong and never complaining woman she was, she didn’t tell her oncologist when she got knee pain and then severe back pain. Her primary doctor treated her for arthritis and she continued to decline. Eventually a PET scan revealed the truth just a few weeks before we lost her.

holding her hand the first night she went into the ER.

After two years, I still think of her every day, cry a few times a week, can’t erase her name from my speed dial.  I go to call her late at night (because I always knew I could call as long as the news hadn’t gone off)! I treasure all the practical things I learned from her, like how to make mashed potatoes and how to can garden vegetables. I could call her and ask her how to do just about anything.  I also pray that the character traits I saw lived out in her of hard work and perseverance will be lived out in me and my children. I am so thankful for the many memories that I have with her and that my children were able to have those memories also.  If I can share any advice from my experience it’s visit your parents and grandparents if you’re lucky enough to still have them.  Call them, soak up any life experience you can from them. I tried my best to make this a priority after we lost my husband’s mom suddenly.  I still wish I had done more.

She was an amazing lady. My heart is thinking of her today.

I loved this kitchen at my grandparents house growing up…many memories were made there.

She was such a cool young grandma! She loved to tan at the beach!

Not exactly what I was expecting

It has been a little over a week since I returned from Haiti.  Much time has been spent journaling and processing what we saw and what God is teaching me through this experience.  As I shared before I left, I struggle with wanting to control things myself and not trusting that God can and will take care of me or those I love.  He was all over this trip.  The things I saw God take care of were so clear.

Friends around me were really processing the magnitude of the poverty and the desperate orphan situation.  I was really struggling with things like our food safety and how to conquer my fear of riding in the tap tap (the truck we took everywhere).  I was almost physically wrestling with my fears of getting lice, getting scabies, getting chikungunya fever from mosquitos (an outbreak there right now)… It took me a few days to relax and realize that if one of those things happens it will cause temporary discomfort at the most.  Around me people were experiencing all those things with no end in sight.  Perspective.

In fact, Perspective was the key thought of the week for me.  The people of Haiti have close to no material possessions.  They have no healthcare available, they have limited educational opportunities, they have few jobs,  they have no economy, they have very little family structure.  I could go on and on.  (These are broad generalizations from  my limited observation).  What they do have….JOY!

It makes no sense.  They are very happy.  They smile a lot, they wave and are extremely friendly.  To this american girl, that was craziness.  On more than one occasion I heard a Haitian person speak of how amazing Heaven is going to be.  How God’s timing is perfect. It occurred to me that their hope is in Heaven.  Not in Haiti becoming better, different, or stronger.  Not in education, money or status.  In Heaven, in the real future.

I love how a group of people can all go on a trip and learn all different things.  I have enjoyed hearing what my daughter and my friends learned, but this was exactly what I needed to be reminded of back in America.  I really struggle with getting caught up in the “now.”  In looking at my circumstances and feeling sorry for myself, comparing my life to those around me, wondering why God has allowed so many painful difficulties in our lives and not in theirs. I’m really not sure why some people suffer more than others.  I can’t wait to ask God that, but I can definitely see how God has used (and is still using) my “suffering” to lead me to a better understanding of Heaven and my purpose here on Earth. It was also beneficial to see suffering on a whole different level.  We visited many people with chikungunya fever and they don’t even have tylenol for pain or fevers.  My son’s chronic illness would have killed him immediately there.  That is all I kept thinking.

As if it wasn’t enough to be able to apply these lessons to my life before, I came home to a new challenge.  While I was away my mom had her annual mammogram, which came back abnormal.  She was diagnosed with Invasive Breast Cancer five days after I returned.

My gut response was “seriously God”???  But I was convicted immediately with what I had learned…I began to replace those thoughts of anger with thankfulness for the medicine we have and the hospitals we are blessed with.  The ability to find cancer and treat it.  Not so in many other places.  I am not trying to deny my “feelings” or say that its not natural to feel that way.  I am just learning that personally I don’t want to live that way.  I spent a few years of my life being angry for our circumstances…and it was miserable. I want to spend the rest of my life learning to have joy that comes from my hope being in Heaven, when the suffering is over for everyone.  Until then I pray that I can “always be joyful, never stop praying. Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18).

My mom has been a trooper.  We have already been to the Surgeon and the Genetic counselor.  The oncologist appointment is tomorrow.  There is no “plan” yet because we are still waiting on more test results.  But she has a very good attitude.  I am learning how to rest in what is known today and not what we still don’t know yet. A lesson that God took me to Haiti to learn to be ok with.

Father’s Day 2014

I am so sad to be missing Father’s Day this year.  Emma and I will be gone.  I am thankful to have my dad in my life still, and to have gotten to grow up with a dad.  Justin’s dad died when he was only four and I know it was a constant sadness for him.  Many of my friends have lost their fathers already (a few just this year), so I am constantly counting my blessings.  My dad has been a great blessing to me this year in his retirement.  My little kids especially have gotten to spend a lot of time with him, and he has been teaching my big boys how to shoot their new bb guns.  (against my better judgement).

We are surprising Justin with an “early father’s day” tonight.  Since “words” are his love language, the kids each wrote him letters or drawings sharing their favorite things about him.  I can’t fully express with words how thankful I am that he is the father of my children.  He brings us all joy every day.  Their letters are adorable and full of meaningful truth about him. I am so excited to give them to him!

He lights the room up with his personality. He is always cheerful (even at 5 am when heading to work).  I am not cheerful until much later in the day. I get a lot of interesting questions from his work friends about how I can manage to “tolerate” his humor and energy on a daily basis.  (thankfully he mellows out as the day goes on).

• I attribute most laughter that takes place in our home to him.  He will manage to get smiles out of us a few times a day even on a bad day. Most frequently by singing 80’s music.
• He is very intentional with me.  From day one, he has pursued me, praised me and honored me in our marriage.  He is very good at publicly making me feel special.  I know for certain that our boys are learning how to treat a woman well, and our daughters are setting a high standard.
• He is very intentional with our kids. As long as they can remember he has taken a different kid to breakfast each week.  They love it.  They are happy to wake up at 6 am and go before school, before everyone else is awake…it is so special.  They are well known around town at the donut shop and Frisch’s.  He uses this time to teach them, challenge them, and listen to them.  Makes my heart melt.
• He really loves Jesus.  From the very first day I met him, he has been passionate about The Lord.  I sometimes think he can’t be serious – he’s that passionate.  But I wouldn’t want it any other way. I hope our kids learn this from him.
• As much as I fear and lack faith, His is that much greater.  He doesn’t spend time worrying about the past or what isn’t in his control.  He trusts God’s plan almost 100% even when it involves the deaths of both of his parents and his having Cerebral palsy (and the challenges it has brought to his own life), even when we lost our babies, and even when Cooper got sick. He isn’t perfect, but I am SO unbelievably thankful that he doesn’t share my struggle in this area.

I could go on and on.  I am so blessed, and I did nothing to deserve such a wonderful man to be my husband.  I tried entering him in the Cincinnati’s hottest dad contest, but He put a stop to it 😦 Next year I won’t ask.

I also wish all the dads out there a very special father’s day.  I will especially be thinking of my friend’s who are having their first one without their dad here.  I pray for comfort for you.

 

 

Remembering Riley

(I started writing this post back in April, it was a little harder than I thought it would be and we had a death in the family that delayed my writing again.  I have written about my children on their birthdays this year and wanted to remember our little boy we had that we don’t get the privilege of raising.  Mostly I share because It helped my heart so much to read other people’s stories of loss when I was going through that myself).  

There are a few kids who I take notice of as they grow up around me.  I remember that I was going to have my baby at the same time.  For all the five miscarriages I had, I know someone else who was pregnant “with me” and we had dreamed and planned for our kids to grow up together.  Even for my son Garrett, whose twin never even had a heartbeat, I catch myself wondering how it would’ve been to have two 9 year olds right now. This unrealistic pattern gets a little shady when I remember that even if that first little one would’ve survived, our family would be very different than we are today.

Obviously my remembering doesn’t change any of the harsh realities we experienced.  What it actually does is validate the life that was our beloved child for a moment in time.  I knew about each of them for some period of time, and therefore as a mom,  I dreamed.  I tried not to because I knew with each pregnancy that “anything” could happen, but I could never stop my heart from loving my child and thinking of him or her and being filled with excitement for the future.  Babies just seem to do that to moms and dads.  I had experienced four first trimester miscarriages between 5-10 weeks along between 2004 and 2006.  Each of those children were increasingly difficult for us physically, emotionally and spiritually.  I had undergone some genetic testing and learned that I had some blood complications and would hopefully find success with taking heparin during any future pregnancies.

      

When we learned I was pregnant again, I quickly got started with my blood thinning injections into my abdomen daily and moved forward with caution. The pregnancy began went so much more smoothly. The heparin was working. Getting into the second trimester was a miracle.  I was coming to accept that our baby was going to make it even though the pregnancy had been so emotional. On a Sunday in April everything drastically went downhill.  I began severely bleeding at church and we rushed to the hospital to find that baby was still seeming fine, but the heparin was making me bleed too much. There was an enormous amount of blood pressing on the baby’s amniotic sac and hospital bed rest would be the only hope to make it at least 10 more weeks. After I was all settled in for my first night alone, I had been chatting with one of my girlfriends on the phone and mentioned the cramping getting really strong but then subsiding. She felt worried for me, but It hadn’t occurred to me that I was having labor contractions. The Doctor had explained that there were going to be cramps because of the amount of bleeding. It grew more and more uncomfortable however I tried to sleep, hoping it would feel better when I woke up the next day. During the night, however I woke up extremely sick and in agony by the time I could press the nurse button I was unconscious.  I only remember parts of the next several hours. The nurse called my husband at some point. He wouldn’t make it in time though. I remember the doctor doing an ultrasound and assuring me that the baby was still alive and in place. But within minutes of that ultrasound, my water broke from all the pressure. A perfect baby boy who was six inches long and beautifully developed was born.  Delivering a baby that you know won’t cry is pretty awful. He was alive at first and moving but he died very quickly. I was holding him in my arms.

Sometimes I am thankful that I was in and out of consciousness, and other times I wish I could remember every detail. By the time Justin got there, the doctor talked to me about getting an epidural because I still needed to deliver the placenta. I just wanted to be put to sleep and they didn’t feel like that would be safe. I was so angry. I didn’t want to be awake to watch any of the rest of it. He finally agreed to sedate me.  I woke up hours later with my baby still in my arms. Surgery had been successful and I was stable. The nurse had taken photos and attempted footprints, however the footprints didn’t turn out well because too much time had passed.  I treasure the photos i have and look at them periodically. We named this son Riley Alexander (the name we had intended on using for a boy already). He was unfortunately born on our daughter Emma’s 7th birthday.  It makes “remembering” a little tricky.

We left the hospital with empty arms. A call from my doctor the next day asking us what our plans for burial would be was a shock, but turned into a blessing to us.  We arranged a burial plot with the cemetery where my grandfather was already buried, and planned a small family funeral for that friday.  We would have to drive to the hospital and pick his tiny body up. The hospital provided and sealed the approved coffin. This step was difficult, however unlike the other miscarriages, we were allowed to grieve his life and our loss in a validated way- simply because I was 5 weeks further along. On the way to the hospital I have a vivid memory of listening to a worship song and grieving while worshipping God and having the hope of Heaven someday with my children. Each of our older children wrote special notes and gave a gift to their brother that friday morning. We prayed together and sang a song of worship. Placing his coffin down in the ground was unbearable.  The amount of grieving that took place in the following weeks and months was unprecedented in our family. I didn’t know how I would move on from such a devastating loss.

Our church had supported us through several surgeries and previous losses, it felt so needy and depressing to be taking from everyone so much.  Our friends had sent flowers on several occasions, I was longing to be past this stage of grief and mourning.  A couple of friends had loaned me books that had been helpful to them.  I devoured them.  Reading about other people’s similar experiences soothed my soul.  I didn’t feel so alone.

I also”connected” with a group of moms on the “Babycenter” website who had all lost babies in April 2007.  It was a random group of women from all over the US and we are still connected now through Facebook.  Having that support group was so helpful.  We were all going through similar feelings, and over the years many of us had more babies and some went through more losses, but the connection has always been there.  We have prayed each other through other tragedies and rejoiced through life’s blessings. When I asked them how they got through that time in their lives these are some of their responses:

“I am not a face to face support meeting kind of girl but I always encourage other women to reach out online or other places for support. I also think another huge thing for me was coming to terms with the fact that even while others may not acknowledge miscarriage or early birth mortality in the same way as they acknowledge other deaths, that it is a death. A life to be mourned. And I needed to mourn it. I still mourn the loss of what he would have been, seven years later. Allowing myself the time and opportunity to do that was very difficult until I came to terms with the fact that my loss was a death of my child.”

“Finding others who were also going through a loss was a big help. Prayer, trying to stay positive and hold on to my sense of humor, remaining hopeful…(all helped me grieve)”

“everyone grieves differently, something that took me by surprise at the time is that I didn’t grieve the way I’d have expected.”

“The pain of losing my 3 babies has lessened, but I will never forget them or stop wondering what might have been.”

“Knowing I had a safe place to be true to my feelings, no matter what they were or if I wasn’t sure what I was feeling, made all the difference to me. I have known others who have walked our path & I always encourage them to find people who are going through it – be it online, support groups, church.”

 

I could give a detailed account of each of the other four experiences losing a baby, and maybe someday I will.  It was always very difficult no matter how far along I was.  It never helped when someone told me that it was “normal” or “just part of life.”  I learned that everyone is different, everyone grieves differently.  I can’t compare myself to anyone else in how quickly they moved on or how slowly I did.  I will probably always think of them and wonder what they would be like today.  I think of my grandma holding them in Heaven and my mother in law especially who never got to meet any of our kids….she has met five of them before we got a chance too…how special is that?

Opportunity to travel to Haiti with my daughter!

In 1996, my life was forever changed with the opportunity to travel with Campus Crusade for Christ (now called CRU) to Albania on an international mission trip. I had grown up in America surrounded by the struggle of poverty my whole life. The poverty and social conditions I experienced growing up helped shape who I have become as a person, but God used this time out of my comfort zone (to a different kind of poverty) in my life to remind me of how vast he is and how his concern for the world is far reaching, beyond my backyard and beyond my understanding.

When Justin and I dreamed about plans for our family, we knew we wanted our children to experience God moving around the world and not just in America. In Acts 1:8 Jesus promises us “power to be His witnesses in Jerusalem, Judea and Samaria and even to the remote parts of the world.” For the first time in our family, our oldest daughter has expressed a desire to do this in Haiti. She and I will be joining 15 others from our church here in Lebanon, OH (Antioch). Our church has sent three teams in the past few years and we couldn’t be more excited to join this one June 14th-20th. As a mom, I am nervous in a whole new way, and God is using this trip to stretch my limits of overcoming anxiety. Most of all I am excited to let the Lord use us for His Glory in Haiti. I know he will change both of our lives there and will even use the trip to grow our family back here in faith while we are away. Prayers would be greatly appreciated for us, our team and for Justin while he manages the other four kiddos on his own.

Our team is partnering with Jesus in Haiti in an effort to meet the physical and spiritual needs of Haitians. Jesus in Haiti has been established in Haiti since 2002 and has a tremendous heart for the lost. Their goal is to share Jesus Christ, help people grow that are lead to Christ and to send them forth to do likewise. The ministry is based on Matthew 5:16 and 2 Corinthians 4:6 where we are told that God fills us with His light through Jesus Christ and are thus commanded to share that same light with those that do not know Him. Some of the “Points of Light” that Jesus in Haiti is involved in includes:

• Victory Bible Church
• Grace Emmanuel School
• orphans that live at the mission home

(If you would like to read more please visit www.jihm.org)

The reason I am writing is twofold: prayer and financial support. First and foremost our team could use an incredible amount of prayer for this trip and those we meet during our time. We know it is going to be both physically and emotionally draining and our strength will need to come from the Lord. Secondly, we are asking for those who feel called to give financially, our team is raising support as a group and the individual cost per person is roughly $1600. That means Emma and I need to raise $3200 together.  This covers food, lodging, and transportation. I know that the Lord will provide abundantly. Any amount would be helpful.  If you feel led to give and would prefer your gift to be tax deductible please make the check out to Antioch. Our deadline to raise the money is May 31st so please pray over this decision.

*Mail your donation to:  Antioch -PO Box 296 – Lebanon, Ohio 45036 – write “Peyton Haiti trip” in the memo line.

Thank you so much for considering “joining” our trip to Haiti through prayer or financial contributions. I have been so blessed over the years to be a part of missions in this way, and I am so thrilled to be physically going on this trip.

Humbly,

Kelli and Emma Peyton

my parents

Sometimes, it’s easier to honor and praise people you are close to after you no longer have the chance to tell them.  We learned this lesson too well 14 years ago when we lost Justin’s mom suddenly.  You think of all the things you said and all the things you felt but didn’t say.  Unfortunately, when we are alive our vision is clouded by pride, judgement, and the junk that comes with being imperfect here on Earth.  The things we admire and love are in there, just sometimes we don’t take the moment to humble ourselves and say them aloud.  In an effort to make sure that doesn’t happen to us again, I will make a feeble attempt at honoring my parents right here. I  know there will be so much more I will want to say then, but I would much rather them know how I feel about them now rather than later.

My parents, Dennis and Sheila, are an example of commitment, hard work, and generosity.  They will be celebrating 44 years of marriage this July, and are entering the beginning of their “retirement” years, which for them means finding new jobs that they can do easier as they age.  My mom has reduced the size of her home – daycare and my dad is now  delivering flowers for our local florist here in town.

My Dad grew up in Adele, Kentucky in the 50’s and 60’s.  He was raised by his Grandparents mostly, his mother (my granny) lived with them on and off over the years.  He was actually the youngest of nine kids.  His parents had gotten divorced when he was very young.  Pa and Mammy (my great-grandparents) had a modest tobacco farm.  They never got indoor plumbing.  (On a side note – it was very fun to visit there as a kid, like going to a different country).  We always joke that my dad is mentally in his 80’s because there is something to be said about being raised by your grandparents.  By high school he needed a change of pace. He was probably a bit much for his grandparents to handle at that time, so his sister, Jan, took him into her home on Sunny Lane, in South Lebanon, Ohio(He was 12 years younger than his sister).  He finished high school with his second family, his two nephews and his niece were very much like younger siblings to him. He remains very thankful for this opportunity.

Across the street from them was a very typical all-american family.  Dad and Mom and two girls.  The Taylor’s.  My dad had just moved across the street from my mom!  My mom was only 12 at the time.  She had lived in South Lebanon her whole life.  In a family very different than my dad was used to.  Her parents were married and the whole family was very close….aunts, uncles and cousins were all one big family.  They rode their horses together in their free time.

I’ll skip ahead a few years, they married very young.  My mom was only 16!  (Gasp)!  They headed off to Alaska with the US Airforce to start their own family. They had a lot of adventures during those first few years and moved back to South Lebanon to start a family in 1974.  Over the next 12 years they had three girls,  I am the middle sister.  My older sister and I grew up there and they moved to Lebanon when our younger sister was in school.

Growing up in the “working class” of the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s was not always easy for us…but I can not imagine how hard it was for them as parents.  My dad worked in a steel cutting factory for thirty years.  The kind of work that doesn’t get sick days.  None.  He worked whatever shift they gave him, which meant working while we were sleeping and sleeping while we were awake for most of my life. His factory shut down in 2003 out of the blue.  He started over from scratch immediately driving a cement mixer.  He loved the freedom he finally had. My mom had a few random jobs but settled in doing childcare in her home.  Not only did she care for us and always have a few extra kids, she was a regular volunteer in our elementary school, a PTO officer, a softball coach, a girl scout leader and a cheer coach.

We asked for everything we ever saw.  We wanted all the brand name clothing, shoes, purses, and makeup our friends had.  We complained about our small house in our small town, and our old cars…Oh, did we complain about our cars.  Seriously, My parents drove a green 15 passenger van at one time because they got it cheap.  We never got it.  With much regret, I would say I really never understood how hard they were working until we were adults. Even into retirement, they continue to work. When those around them plan lavish retirement trips, they will work and when they can’t officially work, they will do odd jobs for people.

 

My parents are extremely talented.  They can fix or make just about anything out of nothing.  Mom is capable and generous with her time, and Dad, well, he is really indescribable.  He is a talented songwriter, poet, musician of several instruments but his real gift is in designing and creating furniture, machines, cars, etc.  A few years ago he even built a small camper from the ground up.  Who does this stuff?  He can’t really have all the credit, because my mom is right in there with him on the work.  They are such a team.  I could tell many stories about the crazy things they have taken on to renovate (it is currently a 1983 RV).

The thing I appreciate the most about them is the way they have served us and others over the years.  My dad has fixed numerous vehicles for strangers, people in need, my friends, for no charge because he can.  He feels it is his way to contribute.  He has built a lot of furniture for us and podiums for our church.  My mom has babysat for us and our friends and waived fees as a way to serve others in need.  Even keeping her own grandchildren requires extra patience as she has already spent every week for the last 40 years watching kids, but she still does it.  They have both helped us build decks, renovate a kitchen, and lay flooring, in their free time.  These are things we would have never been able to afford to pay the labor for at the time. I have two sisters, and they have generously helped them as well in different ways.

Perhaps even greater than all this, is that they really don’t complain.   They didn’t complain that they didn’t get to go to college. They didn’t complain when we didn’t have much money growing up.  They didn’t complain when we called to ask for help at midnight to take a kid to the ER.  They didn’t complain when we asked my dad to work in our house again for the millionth time.  They even cut their vacation short last spring to allow me to stay with Justin in the hospital.

Looking back on my childhood, not only was I one of the only people I knew with parents who were still married to each other, but I am so unbelievably thankful for our modest lifestyle.  I learned about hard work.  I learned that I wanted a college degree.  I learned that I didn’t live in true poverty.  (A mission trip to Albania in 1996 showed me that).   Mostly, I learned that there is never an excuse.  If you don’t know how to do something, you can learn.  If you lose your job, you can get another one.  I still have so much to learn from them.  I hope they know the value they have added to our lives and all of those they have helped over the years with their gifts and talents.  God really has made us all so different.  It’s because of our differences that we all have so much to offer each other. I love my parents and I’m thankful for the opportunity to appreciate them more every day.

Our belated Valentines Day love story

It was 1997.  Having been involved in Campus Crusade for Christ for my first few years of college I had finally been talked into going to a summer project.  I chose to apply to a beach project in Ocean City, NJ.  I had never been there, but several of my good friends had raved about what a great project it was.  It was very safe for me because many Ohio State students were going and I had already known the project directors Jim and Carrie for a few years. Look here to learn more about Summer Projects.

On “Project” we lived in rooms of 4-8 people, and were in bible studies together, then our women’s  group was paired with a men’s group and that was our Impact group.  We did group activities together weekly.  There were about 100 students together from universities all over the US.

While I learned about leadership, grew tremendously in my relationship with God, led a Bible study, mentored a few younger women, I had no idea that I was really going to Ocean City to meet my future husband.  Some people at the time called it “Emotion City,” but I had no intentions of looking for a husband there.  It just happened.

His name was Justin, he was in my impact group.  The first night I arrived on project we had a scavenger hunt on the boardwalk.  He was so energetic, loud and CRAZY!  I didn’t know what to think of him.  Our group was all around awesome, so we had a great summer together.  Nothing in particular happened but we both were drawn to one another. (little did we know that all the guys knew he liked me and all the girls knew that I liked him).  Three months went by so fast, and we left for our respective states.  I left sort of bummed that I might not ever see him again…but I really had peace in my heart about it.

It’s October and out of the blue Justin calls me at my apartment (I hadn’t talked to him since summer) to ask if I’m going to go to the reunion that was coming up at BGSU.  I said yes and we chatted a bit.  I was so excited he had called.  As soon as we hung up he received word from a friend that I was dating someone. He was a little crushed but moved on quickly (this bit of info was not true, by the way). Reunion time rolled around and one of my guy friends tagged along for the ride up to BGSU to visit one of his friends.  When I walked in with a guy, Justin knew this must be who I was dating and he ended up leaving later that evening.  I was so disappointed that he left but had a great time with my girlfriends who had become so close to me over the previous few months.

In the meantime, back in Michigan, Justin randomly ran into an old friend.  He told him about the disappointing evening.  His buddy quickly replied….”that’s gossip man”….”you don’t know she is dating anyone if she hasn’t told you herself.”

While  we were playing board games and hanging out that evening Justin drove back to Bowling Green on a mission to tell me how he felt about me.  He walked in to my friends apartment and asked me in front of EVERYONE if I would go on a walk.  (IT WAS FREEZING).  “Sure,” I said.  He quickly told me how he felt about me…that ever since summer he couldn’t quit thinking about me and he was even annoying his buddies talking about me.  (He was playing a tape of me singing and forcing them to listen to it all the time, isn’t that sweet?)  He felt it would be dishonest to not be upfront about his feelings.

I couldn’t not believe my ears…I was shocked actually.  It was a great moment to admit our feelings after all those months.  We agreed to pray about what to do…since he lived in Ann Arbor, Michigan and I lived in Columbus, Ohio.  I told him I needed to pray about it.  I had a few issues to work out in my mind, so I would just let him know when I was ready.

He agreed and maybe even thought this would be a few days. So he decided to pray for me. Actually he would fast (from eating) until I responded. A few days went by, then a week, then two.  Was she ever going to reply he must’ve thought?

Finally I called him…and told him I would love to get to know him better.  It was so sweet, we had phone dates a couple times a week until our “first actual date weekend” rolled around.  Michigan – Ohio State weekend in Ann Arbor. This weekend would be the scene of my first time getting pulled over as well.  My girlfriend Stephanie came with me and we drove up for the game and my big date.  She was so encouraging.  We actually sang the fight song in the car on the way up.  The scene seriously warms my heart to think of it, I digress…

Buckeye Battle Cry 
In old Ohio there’s a team
That’s known thru-out the land;
Eleven warriors, brave and bold,
Whose fame will ever stand.
And when the ball goes over,
Our cheers will reach the sky,
Ohio field will hear again
The Buckeye Battle Cry-

Drive! Drive on down the field,
Men of the scarlet and gray;
Don’t let them thru that line,
We have to win this game today,
Come on, Ohio!
Smash through to victory.
We cheer you as you go:
Our honor defend
So we’ll fight to the end for O-hi-o.

The game was exciting and ended in a loss for the Buckeyes…so we won’t talk about that.  It was a rare moment in my adult life that Michigan actually won.  Anyway, we headed out to a little greek restaurant nearby, they had no heat apparently, so we froze to death in the brutal Michigan cold…but we hardly noticed.  We were so smitten.  Every date for the next few months could have the exact same description.  We stared at each other and laughed so hard and talked about everything imaginable and nothing at all.

One thing was for sure, we couldn’t imagine NOT being together.  After 4 months, and numerous spontaneous trips to Fricker’s halfway between Columbus and Ann Arbor, he told me he was in love and wanted to marry me!  This was crazy and wonderful at the same time. Four months after that we got married!  I wouldn’t have changed a single bit.  We weren’t finished with college, we had no idea what we were getting into, we certainly weren’t financially stable, but we were committed to loving each other forever.

We have been together nearly sixteen years now and this story seems so fresh and exciting in my mind.  We have loved sharing it over the years.  I know not everyone has a dramatic love story, but I do love seeing how God can bring together two people from Oklahoma and Ohio and you can see how He had been preparing the two of you for each other over a lifetime. We have had quite an adventure in our marriage and I can’t imagine a more amazing man to do life with.

Here are 5 things our story has taught me:

1. Be myself.  The summer we met…I was not looking to impress anyone, and what I got was a husband who liked being with me…not just the me I could sometimes project to look a certain way.  I was just plain old me.

2. Be obedient. Sometimes God calls us to do things for a reason we aren’t expecting.  I would have never met Justin if I continued to run from God’s calling to go on a summer project.

3. Don’t believe gossip. While there is a convoluted story as to why some thought I had a boyfriend, Justin would have never told me how he felt if he didn’t recognize gossip for what it was.

4. Take a chance.  So glad he did!

5. The biblical idea of prayer and fasting is amazing.  It really gave me clarity.  (Acts 14:23) I believe God honors fasting from his children that are seeking to trust him.